Running to the House of the Sun

David and I left Lahaina early and made it to the Maui Mall before 5:00 am. I headed out immediately and David stayed to get his gear ready. Right away I knew I had too much stuff. I was running no heavier than I normally do on trails during training, but trying to carry weight and jog roads is always insane. I quickly dropped into a hard pace, and basically maintained that pace the rest of the day.

Photo's of the run

David passed me just as we hit Pulehu road less than two miles into the run. I tried again to jog, but it was a no go. My right ankle was bothering me, I was tight, and I had a list of things I could complain about if I bothered to become concerned with them. We ran down the dark Pulehu cane road, first pretty much alone, and then, as the morning came upon us and it became closer to dawn, the early morning traffic started to barrel out of the hills. Most people are cool and if they can they will give a runner or a biker as much space a possible. But the guy who will kill you either doesn't see you or is one of those kind that sees you, and gets worried about crossing the line into no traffic, and damn near hits you for nothing. When cars are doing over 60 on bad back roads it becomes a bit of a burden. My progress was a bit slower as I dodged off the road when I could.

I usually run on the left as required in the race, but traffic was so heavy, and the guys so nuts, I was forced to the right, and just kept an ear out for traffic coming up the road.

It was slow going up Pulehu, and traffic only dropped off as we hit Pulehuiki; that section of steep ups that never seems to end. I pushed hard telling myself that this was a place were I could catch up on David and powered to the top. It was still slow. I just had too much water in the pack, and too many emergency items to keep my weight down. I made the turn onto the Kekaulike Highway at about 3:30, at least 30 and perhaps 45 minutes behind my best race pace.

It was light by then, and the lowlands were beautiful. The Haleakala was shrouded in clouds. I could look down on Kahalui, and the Wailuku plains. The ocean was turning from gray to a dusky blue. There were plenty of birds in the trees of the small farms along the road, a goat here, a cow there. One old Japanese lady was tending her small patch of strawberries, another woman was wandering her gardens with a pair of binoculars looking for birds. I waved to people, said good morning, and they would stare at me briefly as I strode hard up the hill past them.

The turn onto the Crater Road is always a relief. The traffic is reduced to park almost only park visitors. The road is better, with a bit of a runner's lane, and the views are tremendous as the pasture land blocks nothing. I worked my way up the first miles of the road that wind throught the last of the housing lots. And about mile two I passed a nice looking woman walking her dog. I was half hoping she would ask me to come to her house for a cup of coffee. (Nothing like a smelly runner in your kitchen!). But she didn't, and I hurried by her after a brief hello.

I made the second water cache and downed a large portion of a container of gator-aide. I was jamming potato chips into my mouth when I turned to find that the lady I had recently passed was once again right behind me. It was a testament to the slowness of my pace. I burped loudly in surprise, and with barely a nod to her I took off again. At every switch back I noticed the woman was still just behind me. I was still fantasizing that cup of coffee and at each turn I half watched to see if she would offer that out as an alternative to the long haul up the road. Then somewhere on a long switchback she disappeared.

I ran on and looked up along the ridges trying to find David. On one of the long stretches with a view up the mountain I spotted his white shirt--who else would be walking the road? I noted the place and pushed on trying to get to the spot. It took me twenty minutes to climb the five or six switchbacks to where the road showed the dark cut into the side of the mountain. I pushed on hoping David would become discouraged, or get tired, or bored. My only weapon was a steady pace. When we had eaten at Da Kitchen, I had told Les I would be relentless. It was time to live up to that statement. Every time the road sloped up I pushed harder.

It's maybe six to eight miles of switchbacks up to the ranger station. You can look up the hill across the pastureland and see the road high up, almost beyond distinction. Occasionally a bus or a car would move like a small white bug across the hillside. I put my head down and just pushed on, while watching the dead and dying earthworms that had come out onto the heat of the road in the wetness of the mountain night slowly disintegrate under my feet. There were tens of thousands of worms on the black shinny asphalt. Some still trying to find their way back to the side of the road, most just memories of what they had been. And there were hundreds of cow plops. It seemed the cows, too, came onto the road at night to warm themselves in the heat of the dark road. All along the side of the road there was evidence of their night gathering. Looking down as I forced my stride, my best understanding of the climb was cow plops and dead worms. The views were everywhere, but only occasionally noticed, the road was the center of my universe. The cantered side a growing aggravation, the running water, the mud, offered distractions, and the white line at the outside of the lane marking the edge of my narrow 'right of way' world.

At each switchback one has to make the decision to stay left, as the race rules require, or to move to the right. When there are a hundred people on the road it is easy to stay left on the hairpins that bend and cut through the hillsides up and to the left. When you are alone, the thought of somebody cutting the corner is always with you, and bikers are often reluctant to get into the road. It can be dangerous rounding the blind bends.

I also knew that David was cutting the corners when he could. It was his style. If I was going to catch him, I had to run his race. I gave each long rightward bending switch back a good look, and where necessary I slipped across the long expanse of road to the top of the next long straight.

There were cows grazing up the hillsides. They ignored the cars, but found me note worthy. They would stop their grazing and stare blankly at me as I moved past. I talked to them, made noises, called them. They just looked at me, their heads following my progress. Only a few seemed ready to move toward me. I'd moo at them and they would shake their heads and trot away, looking for more peaceful forage.

Rounding on right hand switchback I came upon a family pulled of to the side of the road. The father had a tourist book on the hood of the car and was talking intently on the phone to a tour agent. The young son was standing at the back of the car, the trunk up, getting something to eat. For a moment I thought he was ready to offer me something. We exchanged greetings as I went by. The old man was saying "So basically every price has increased from the ones that are advertised. Well what about the 'Wild' dolphin Tour is that still open? I ran on thinking about the meaning of such a tour. Wild dolphins were Mahimahi. Did that mean you got a nice fish sandwich? Or if were porpoise they referred to, what did one do to ensure you got to meet wild dolphins.

I ran on, making the turn, coming past them 100 feet below me. The father now haranguing his wife about the prices and the need to find some kind of tour for the afternoon. The woman walking the dog strode past them. It just seemed stupid. The whole fucking island lay below them and this nerd had to have somebody take him on a planned event to fill his day. But many tourists think swimming with the dolphins....the mammals not the fish, is something everyone does when they visit Hawaii.

I was alone most of the time as I pushed up the switchbacks. The occasional bike riders would fly down past me, a few of the slower ones offering a 'Good Morning!' That's another event many people plan for Maui. They get a ride up the mountain and then coast down. It seems a bit stupid to me. But I am sure there were not many people who passed me in cars or on bikes who would have willingly traded places. One in a hundred would do what I am doing, maybe one in a thousand. The rest wanted to coast down the hills, applying the brakes, getting some thrill over the drop. The tours are fairly well managed. I passed a group getting ready, and the guide was instructing them on the hand signals he would be using. Most had vans following them down. There were only a few markers on the side of the road noting where some poor soul ended his trip off to the side of the road.

The slopes became wetter as I climbed. The hillsides were flushing water, and the streams flowing stronger than I had ever seen before. It started to get a bit cold, but the long sleeve running shirt was still sufficient. The mists came in occasionally, the fog dropped down the mountain at intervals, but for the most part the weather stayed up higher, and above 6500 feet. Three was a great view of the west end of Maui. I could occasionally look down and see the slopes I had climbed. At a few points I could actually see the entire route. With a telescope I felt I could look right down and see the House of Pancakes sign at the edge of the Maui Mall, where we had started.

My legs were holding up well. I had a bit of a problem with my left foot, which is normal. I stopped occasionally to pull the sock up to eliminate the hot spot I felt on the heel. I knew I would not escape unscathed but I have learned that one much react immediately to heat on the feet. it is the only way to survive a long run. Other than that I was feeling good and just working on my concentration. When I get good concentration my thoughts become quiet and I live the steps. The miles move by about every fifteen minutes, and I watch the hours slip by. One hour, become like the last, one mile similar to the previous, each step a concentrated stride. I monitor my reactions, my feelings, and make minor adjustments, and then take the next step.

It became cooler and more windy as I worked my way up the switchbacks. Near the top, at the point where the road works it way along the mountain toward the Park entrance, it became chilly. I pushed on. By then Charles and Stella had come up the hill and were acting as an aid team. At one stop I ditched a lot of my excess gear. My load became lighter and my stride easier. Charles and I joked about where David was. He had stretched out his lead to almost a half-hour. I realized I was going to have problems catching him. I joked that we needed some really cold weather. It might discourage him. I needed some help from mother nature.

We hit the park at mile 25 and it had been my plan to ride through the gate with Charles and Stella. Charley handed me a five dollar bill and told me to walk through. I had to fight the cars to get to the pay window. "I'm walking here asshole!" I pushed on toward the lower visitors center. I spotted David high up on the switchbacks and pushed. At the visitors center I stopped to put on my running vest. In 20 steps the mists had rolled in and it was twenty degrees chillier. The walk up the switchbacks into the park became dark gray corridors with limited visibility. Most people slowed for me, others just ignored me, some seemed to come at me. Nasty stuff. My yellow clothing helped to keep the cars away from me.

At 7500 feet it got cold, the water was rushing and dripping off the mountain sides. The streams were flowing. The Mountain was heavy with water. Cars sprayed up thick curtains of water off of the water flowing down the road, augmenting the mists. I ducked my head and pushed on.

Suddenly the clouds were gone. The sky was blue and the heat of the sun was a relief. I marched down the road feeling better. I hit the switchback, turned the corner and down the hillsides came a wave of cold foggy air. In moment I was damp and chilled again. I strode on breathing rapidly to compensate for the thin air.

I don't know what I was thinking about. I enjoyed the shrubbery at that roadside, the waterfalls and seeps, and watched the occasional birds, kept an eye out for the traffic, monitored my pace. I was focused on catching David. But it was a slow motion chase. I didn't want to stop long for anything as I knew I could not make up the time once I had lost it. The stops at the car were quick affairs, taking 30 seconds and no longer. A few brief words, a few gulps of water, grab something to eat and walk away munching on it. I'd wave and think Charles and Stella as they passed me.

What struck us all was how routine the run had become. I remember when I made a big production about running the Run to the Sun. Now David and I were doing it with limited support, and making good time. We had both matured as Ultra runners, and the distance was no longer intimidating. Each of us just pushed on, facing each new hardship with determination and persistence. We were getting to the top, we just had to keep moving. Charles and Stella had saved my ass on the Mauna Kea squared run, but this one was much easier. I was ready for the cold a bit more, and seemed more ready for the altitude. But it was a shorter run. We were doing 36 not 58. Twelve, twelve and twelve, is a lark compared to thirty-five , twelve and twelve. And Mauna Kea was another four thousand feet higher.

I hit eight thousand feet and knew I was about an hour away from the end. The mile markers were hitting 18 and it was 22 to the summit. The air was thinner, the mists cooler. At once switchback David called down to me from above. It didn't seem that far ahead. Less than a mile, perhaps. I pushed on, jogging a bit when I could. I was feeling better than I did in the morning, but the altitude was robbing me of my strength. I hyperventilated, forcing more oxygen into my system, the chill air beginning to hit my lungs. I switched to nose breathing, hoping my sinuses would warm the air. I'd run for fifty yards, stride on, run again when I had the energy. All the while I knew David would be pushing harder now that he had seen me. Time was running out. I could gain a few minutes a mile, maybe ten over all. He was at least ten ahead of me. He was going to beat me if he didn't break down completely. I knew he was not going to fall apart. I settled for a close second and kept pushing. Now I was racing the clock. Clawing back time from what I calculated as an over 10 hour finish when I had been at the bottom of the crater road. Now 19 miles up, I was shooting for a 9:30. Push, I kept screaming to myself, push and keep going.

The clouds were whipping up and down the mountain in ragged streams of white and gray mist. At one point I passed through a stream of mist heading down the valley, while just ahead of me another band of cloud moved just as quickly up the mountain. In between I found a clear area where the sky was almost blue. Then it was gone, the wind whipping at my face, and drops of rain spattering the road. Now and then the Sun shone and the gravels glistened, the glass volcanic chips of rock sparkling in the brownish red soil. High on the barren slopes occasional silver swords grew, their curving leaves giving them a ball like appearance.

I was hoping the weather would clear as I reached the summit ridge, but it only got worse. The fog and clouds closing in and the road disappearing in front of me. I knew there was a jog to the right and the final climb to the visitors center. I pushed on looking for the ridge and the switchback. My hands were cold. At the car I pulled on a pair of gloves and tied my Lost Soul fleece to my waist. I pushed on. David was only fifteen minutes ahead.

The visitors center lies below the true summit. If you don't know that it is an unpleasant surprise. Almost another mile of up lies before you. The altitude sign says 9500, and you have a mile and 500 feet to go. Difficult even in good weather. It was blowing, misty and very cold. I pulled my bandanna up from around my neck and put it over my face, hoping to warm the air going into my lungs. The wind whipped directly in my face. I could not run. I forced my breath and push on with my stride, leaning into the wind, hiding my face, ignoring the chill. Finally I saw the access road to the Observatories. A jig to the right and the final hundred feet of up. I pushed through the grey clouds and wind. I hit the parking lot, the ground leveled, walked toward the steps, called to David, and he and Charles and I went to the top to get a few pictures at the summit lookout, where the sign reads 10053. I had made it to the top in nine thirty.
It was my fourth summit of Haleakala. I breathed a sigh of relief and silently made a date to meet the spirits again in a few months time.

I was satisfied with the run. I had maintained constant effort over the entire distance and I had never bonked. It had been almost 9.5 hours of constant effort. I had done it without apparent injury and was in a state at the top where I could have gone on much longer. I had achieved my goals. David had beaten me. I credited that to carrying far too much weight at the beginning. I could have carried 50 ounces less water and would not have gone without. I could have dropped some other stuff as well. If I could have jogged along the bottom stretches I could have cut my time and been near even with him at the crater road. If I had been insight of him, within a quarter of a mile or so , I don't think he could have held me back. But that is the way these competitions are. David did a great job of keeping it together with little long distance training. I'm as proud of his effort as I am of mine. There are not many people who could make the thirty six mile run up the Haleakala a fairly ordinary day run. We both did that. It was a great ending to the Year, a wonderful way to bring in the new one.

I have a date with the Mountain in March. I hope to break 8:00 by then. We will see.

Final Run of 08

I'm headed to Maui to do a Run to the Sun with David. 40 miles of good stuff up the mountain. Should be fun.

Tens again and again

Fish and I did a ten on Friday evening, getting out of the hills as dusk settled in, and then I got up early and did another ten at five in the morning. Reverse trek loops. And this evening, Saturday, we are headed out again for a twenty, a trek loop. Hoping to finish up by about 2:00 am so we can get some sleep. Lots of reasons for this; a major power outage screwed up Fish, and I was supposed to work and then didn't. I would have done a....yeah right...I was glad to get out last night and even more glad to get out this morning.



Rains from a strange easterly have made the rails a mucky mess. Everything is slick, wet, deep in mud, or just puddles. It is cold up there, and we have to keep moving or we chill quickly. I didn't take any Ibu on these two marches and it could be felt. Lots of pains in the legs, and arms. Very instructive. This morning I felt so sore it took me three hours to do what I normally do in two. And I was ranting as I went down the trail, pursued by off trail, or demons of illusion. Bad scene to be out there like that. But I got through the ten on my own, and revisited what a forth lap will feel like. Great place to be, wonder people to meet out there. Came home and had night mares and felt much safer and more at peace with myself than out there on the trails. It was a rough set.


Last night Fish took me on a side trail and we went hunting for a lost bottle. Interesting trail but very slick and slippery. We came down a steep hill and found ourselves looking out over the edge of a seventy foot waterfall. It was dry but the fall was still there. Then we be began a climb up a fifty foot wall of mud. About 30 feet into it I just said 'Enough'. My shoulder is still bothering me, it was raining and threatening much worse, I didn't mind going up but I dreaded coming down. I don't want to hurt my shoulder now with only three weeks till HURT. So we bailed and headed back up and out. Back on the trail we finished up the ten, or perhaps twelve.

l got home and had some sleep on Saturday and was ready to boogy by the evening. We ran into another heavy batch of squalls and it was very wet out there. Slick in places, and shedding layers of mud in others. But we push on and did a 6:29. But it was hard. We walked the entire 20 and I had gut cramps that creeped up on me as we headed out of Paradise. I think its the old goo that has been in the bottles in the car. Shit is literally gut wrenching. We did a 2:20 into Paradise, a 1:55 on the Paradise-Jackass, and a 2:20 or so on the Paradise to Nature Center. We were standing on the grassy knoll with 1:30 to make a 6.5 and just slipped in.

It was wet everywhere. Fish called it Crocodile water up on Pauoa Flats. The hillsides were flushing and everything was under water. Manoa was the same. It was the first time running the HURT loop that my feet got cold from the water. Cold clear water you could almost drink was flowing everywhere. The high ground was windy and chilly. Lower down the flats were muddy and slippery. We just kept pushing . I limited my thoughts to what I could see in the beam of the light. Didn't let myself think about getting in or out of the valleys. Just pushed each step as hard as I could go.

Gut is cramping.....got to run.

Thirty is better than Twenty

I met fish at the Water Tank and we headed up toward the Nature Center around 10:00pm or so with the intention of doing forty miles, or fifty, or sixty---it was that prerun optimism that lets you look out at the trail ahead of you and laugh and be optimistic about the grind that surely awaits. At the nature center we ran into Joel and Steff as they unloaded the car and set up their stash. We talked a bit and then wished them well, knowing we'd seem them on the trails.

I told Fish that I was doing six and a half's. I was specific about it, and had decided that I would not be pushed. Let fish loose and he can do a five or better. I was not going to let myself get into running into the dirt. We moved up Hogsback and it was hard, I was sweating and carrying an extra load with a bottle to stash at the Map Room. That and all the other odds and ends I had on me made the pack heavy, and the climb hard. We hit the top at 2o, which is OK. But my knees felt the extra weight and I had to go slow down the staircases and up twisters. It was slow but steady going. I had decided to do the entire distance at a walk.

The times unfolded about as planned. We were to the top of Tantalus road at 55 and to the three-way at Manoa Cliffs Trail at 1:15, to the Map Room at 1:30, and over to the Pie Stand at 1:4o. We pushed down into Manoa, my knees hurting a bit, and not taking the strain well despite the reduced weight of my pack. The darkness was less a problem than the general nature of the run. I had worked until 8:00, and eaten a meal at Hospice. The Pork Adobo was not going down well.....or perhaps you could say it was going down too well. I made a mental note not to eat Pork Adobo, particularly pureed Pork Adobo before runs. My gut knotted a bit voicing its approval of that decision, but not liking the burden of dealing with the night's mistake.

We made the bottom by 2:25. A bit slow. We did the turn and headed back out from Paradise and up the grind. Manoa Falls trail was coming at me hard. We passed Steff, Bozo, and Joel at about 11:00 minutes in. They were making time on us. I lowered my head and just tried to chug up the trail. I pushed hard up the Ahuilama, taking it as fast on the up as we had on the down, and made the top by around 3:15, better than 50 considering our brief break at the bottom. We were at the bench by 3:28 or so, which was roughly an hour out from the Paradise turnaround.

The trails were in good condition. Some mud, but the rains of the last week had washed the slime away and it was a fairly easy climb, with only the mud holes and the upper flats to offer much mud. We pushed through that stuff accepting the coating on our legs and the dampness on our feet. We were moving at roughly a six and a half our pace, and we had not once broken into a jog. Even Fish remarked that it was extraordinary, considering we were walking. But then there are not many people who could walk that pace. It takes constant concentration, and one has to push at every opportunity. There is no rest, there are no breaks, and the grind is constant. Speed is constant. We make up for a slower pace by just pushing by the rabbits as they munch their bars at the standard break points.

Anyway we moved down into Nu'uanu and my knees were hurting. I mentioned to Fish that I was going to take it easy and not push. Overall it cost us about five minutes and we were down in closer to fifty than forty-five. We were back out in about the same. My gut was not happy with me. I stopped to take an antidiarehials at the bench. But I was not feeling good. We kept pushing. We made the Map Room at 5:15. We pushed down Manoa Cliffs and I could feel myself slowing down. We were at the bench at the top of Hogsback at 5:55 or so, giving us 35 minutes to get down. In daylight and running parts of it this is possible. Walking at night and with a few problems, it is not so possible. It is an issue I needed to face. If one is to do a 6:30 at a walk then my times are a bit off. I need to come up with about 15 minutes from other sections of the trail if I am going to walk the loop in six-thirty. It bears consideration.

I didn't have time for consideration and we pushed down crossover and then down center trial. We arrived at the Nature Center at about 6:35 or so. I had failed my test, but not by much.

We sat there getting ourselves together. rewatering and contemplating the next move. I told Fish I was hurting. I asked him if he was going out if I bailed. He shook his head. He needed the distance, I needed to run in bad shape. I told him I'd do a reverse trek, a 10 miler. That would make thirty. I downed a couple more pills to ward off the impending explosions from my gut. We headed out and the Hogs Back whacked me across the head like it often does at times like this. Slow, but you got to understand what going up that climb is like when you really feel bad. It brings new meaning to the word grind. I sent Fish ahead hoping he could pull me up, but he just left me in the dust. Gone in a flash of light. I trudged on alone. We made it to the top by 25. We pushed on. I kept hoping for a surge in my energy. It didn't come. We made it to the top of Tantalus in just over an hour. Then things began to come right and we pushed into the three-way at 1:18 and hit the top at the map room at 1:30. Once again I had an hour to get down. We pushed. It was getting light, and I don't remember where we could see. It was funny because the quarter moon was shining in the morning sky and it gave the impression of a dawn. We were making time and I began to jog and at some points do a long lopping trail run. At the switches into the strawberry quava at the end of Manoa Cliffs I got a bit of a lead on Fish and tried to ditch him. I pushed on hard and kept leaving him. We ran into a bunch of boy scouts cutting bambo in on Moleka. I just excused my way through hoping Fish would be more polite. I ran hard through the bamboo, around the corner, and to the bottom of the switch back. I was hoping to be to the top by the time he made the bottom. He was coming at me before I was up the first switch, and caught me twenty yards down the top of the trail. we pushed on hard. Dancing the roots of upper Moleka, and then onthe the Makiki Valley trail. Pushing hard and getting down to the Bench at 2:00. Once again I was hit with the problem of making the bottom in thirty from the bench. It can be done, but not when I am doing twenties. I have to have 40 minutes at that point, at least. So I need to go back and figure out where I can get 15 extra minutes. It will be interesting, considering how fast I had been running to catch up on the lost time from the first sections.

Time lost is gone. It is almost impossible to run it down. It can be done. I can do a 50+ on the last section but I can not do it regularly. If I needed to do it to finish the race I think I could, but it would be dangerous. I believe I did a 60 in 2007. Finishing the last loop in about 6:30. I need to budget 1:15 or more from the Maproom, to make it a good 6:30 at a walk.

Makapu'u Ups and Downs

Don and I met for our weekly Makapu'u run this morning. It is always good to spend time talking and moving with Don. He is one of the few people who can put up with my sense of humor and not become offended or just fail to understand what I am getting at. The walks always seem to involve some kind of rant on my part. I think its an opportunity for me to vent, and Don rarely misses the opportunity to encourage it. Mostly its economics. I have called this crisis as far back as the Badwater training a few years ago. The only thing I believe i missed was the size of the Hedgefund resources and their impact on the dollar when they went in search of liquidity.

Anyway we did a couple of ups and talked about Don's year end trip, and his physical state, and the coming HURT. We did a couple of ups and called it a day as he was not feeling all that hot.

The new year will see a move back to Kuli'ou'ou and some heavier training.

Running for a Cause

Last Weekend a friend of mine, Paul Sibley attempted to run 16o miles in a ‘Round Oahu and Honolulu Marathon combination. He did this to raise donations for and awareness of a cancer victim’s plight; a young boy named Trevor Sims, from Louisiana, http://www.CancerRunner.org. Paul is a recent cancer survivor and his fight was a long and arduous one.

The weather became dismal, and as the night wore on it became clear that Paul was suffering the effects of Rhabdo, a kidney problem related to his extended exercise. Despite this he pushed on, only calling a halt when the long isolated stretch of Kaena point meant a lack of road support for hours. The risks to continuing on in his condition just became all to apparent.

It is always hard to do the right thing, sometimes even harder to determine what the right thing is. In this case Paul did the right thing twice. As I posted on the HURT site, Paul is our Hero not our Martyr. We don’t need to see him crumpled up on the side of the road or spending time in a hospital to believe in what he did, or the beauty of that effort.

I have often been asked why I don’t run for a cause. I never have a satisfactory answer. I don’t feel comfortable with it, and I go on the assumption that what I do in life should be enough. Then I consider the possibilities of what I could do, and wonder why I have not tried to help the Hospice cause. In some ways it strikes me as a commercialization of my deepest enjoyment, running. Yet I certainly do not regard what Paul did as any kind of commercialization and give him great credit for carrying out a praiseworthy and honorable act. Given my plans for the next few years, perhaps I need to look into making my running more than just a personal pleasure. It's a hard call.

Speed Racer....and the cliff at the side of the trail.

This was a post to the HURT site that I felt compelled to write after seeing half a dozen good friends lose their 'regular' status because of injuries related to trying too hard too soon to go too fast without much training. It is also a response to the recurrent 'injury' posts on the Ultra list from people who seem unwilling to face the reality of their bodies.

This is a comment that is not based on any particular runner’s experiences, and is not directed at anyone. It is a general lamentation based on some observations I have had over the past years and meant as a point of contemplation for all of us as we continue to meet the challenge of our ultra running ambitions.

There are some simple anatomical facts that many people do not seem to understand. The first is that muscle tissue is compliant. Muscles are relatively responsive to our demands and will grow, or shrink as need be over a matter of months. They are ‘red’ tissue, which is highly nourished by rich blood supply.

Tendons and Ligaments, and even Cartlidge are less responsive. They are a ‘white’ tissue, which receives much less blood supply and they are very delayed in their response to increasing demands. One of my professors of Physiology commented that tendons and ligaments take as much as three to five times longer to respond to changing demands, and lag behind at increasing rates during rapid muscle growth.

Bones are not static but are indeed organic and responsive to physical demand. Bones take even longer to respond to changed demand. Increased stress will increase density and broaden attachment points for growing larger ligaments and tendons. Increased area for cartlidge is also possible. Cartlidge is not regenerating but may, over the years, form broader firmer bases to support increased activity and stress.

Now, with this in mind, picture your leg and its attempt to respond to the desire to be an Ultra runner. You get out there and do ten and it hurts. You go home and your muscles respond and get a bit bigger. You go out again a few weeks later and you can do that 10 with far less muscle pain. You may even be able to go faster. However, your tendons will just be registering a need to increase in size. Your bones may be aware of a change in activity and demand.

As you continue to work on your hill climbing and running your legs begin to change their form. Standing in front of the mirror in Dionysian style you admire your progress and plan for ever longer challenges. Your tendons are just awakening the need to grow and blood and nourishment begins its long slow journey into the white tendenous and ligament tissues. You bone cells have registered the increasing impacts and slowly, very slowly, the cells begin to divide and grow. Far off in the future you will have tendons, ligaments, cartridge, and bone density to match the needs of a ten-mile jaunt through the hills.

But you are absorbed in the size of your muscles, and the resiliency of your heart, and the sound of the air moving through your expanding lungs; all tissues that respond rapidly to need. In months you are doing twenty and dreaming of your first Ultra. You got it. You can keep pace with those old gray haired long-winded guys who always seem to trudge along at the back of the pack. You begin to run past them, to charge out and run with the rabbits. It’s not so hard. You have put in the work and you deserve to be running with the rapid deployment team. The words of caution from the old gray-backs sound like sour grapes. You don’t need to run with them any more, and you don’t need to listen to words of caution, you feel fine.

But in your body, the tendon growth is far outpaced by the muscle tissue growth. The ligaments are still those of a short distance runner. Bone tissues and density are not that different from the first day you started moving up a trail. You don’t realize it, but you have built yourself an overpowered racecar. A giant motor mounted on a frail frame that can power over a course, but lacks the shocks to deal with the bumps, and the heavy frame to resist the impacts of hitting the wall.

But luck is with you and you place well in shorter races. People encourage you to continue. Some tell you a fifty or a 100K or even a 100 miler is in your future. But you don’t understand what they are saying. You are still a Speed Racer, a short distance long distance runner; the kind who think 5K is cross-country. Words of caution go unheard. “If it hurts, stop doing it.” Sounds like capitulation. It doesn’t matter that the guys saying that are the long lived, the veterans, the finishers of many 100s. Like a Samoan Radio you know only two speeds; Off and Full On.

As verification of your effort you feel your ability to climb hills increasing. You can charge ahead of most of the people you first struggled to stay with. Muscles continue to grow, now far out pacing your support tissues. Finally muscles are pulling at tendons far beyond their capacity to respond, or you are hitting the downs so fast and hard that bones are feeling the impacts beyond their support capabilities.

This precarious rise in ability reaches a crescendo as pain in tissues becomes ever more present. Ibuprofen becomes a vitamin. But the ‘Just do it’ motto, draws you in and you listen to some super asshole star with super human abilities, and discard the cautions your own body is sending you with increasing urgency.

Then it happens. You are doing a down and ‘Phittttt’ goes a tendon in your leg. You go from being a super star in your own mind to wondering how the hell you are going to manage to limp off the mountain. Or you ignore what is tendon and ligament pain in your knees until the underpowered tissues slip and cartridge damage occurs in your joints. Or you suddenly have severe leg pain that is finally diagnosed as micro fractures to bones in your foot or leg.

You go from being an up and coming superstar of Ultra running to being ‘What’s his name that used to come out with us?” You may limp back out, but now you are wrestling with a major injury and it just won’t go away. If it backs off a bit you quickly charge down another hill and rip up weak tissue some more. And those old boneheads are still out there, at the back of the pack, enjoying the sunsets and sunrises. Feeling the leaves wet with dew brush their faces as they saunter along doing a twenty every week.

You really want to excel. You are willing to work at it but your body just won’t respond the way you want it to. But wait. You got this all wrong. You are looking into the wrong end of the telescope.

The fact is that you are not responding to your own body that way you need to. In your search to do it all right now, you have forgotten that at 30, or 40, or 50 years of age the body takes a long long time to develop the infrastructure necessary to do long hard trail running. How long? Two, three, five years is not out of the question. Vastly overpowered muscles can reap havoc on support tissues, and you can do damage to yourself even when you go at half throttle. It takes time. It takes lots of time; years and not months.

Despite all the clowns claiming otherwise it is not a matter of getting through the pain, it is a matter of listening to the pain. Because pain is your body telling you what a real asshole you are. Assholes are muscle tissues. Boneheads are support tissues. Bones, tendons, ligaments decide what you do over the long run. Muscles just get overpowering and screw you around.

How many of you young punks have to wreck your running careers with unnecessary ‘Fast Guy’ injuries before you begin to learn to listen to your own bodies. There is enough going on out there on the trails to hurt and maim that you don’t need self inflicted wounding to occur. I know trail fuzz often clouds my brain, but I’m really saddened by the number of ‘what’s his (or her) name’s?’ we see fall by the way side when it just is not necessary. Stick around, slow down, relax and let the years help your body understand that Ultra running is a part of your life.

Hope to see you on the trails....it will mean I'm still alive.

Mikem, Ph.D., MS, BS, LMT, CNA (for those who are impressed by academic compulsiveness)

December 14, 2008 at 12:18 PM Permalink

If we had a boat, we would still have been bailing....

A 38+Mile training run through wind, rain, fog and water hazards....Saturday 12/13/2008

It was a great day on the trails on Saturday and there were about a dozen people out despite the pending Marathon. Conditions were a bit muddy in places, and Pauoa was a snake filled pool, but it was a bit cool with the cloud cover and everyone was making time. But things slowly began to fall apart through the day as one after another of the runners had to drop for various reasons. It was only the stalwart rabbits like Maricio and Larry who seemed to be getting done what they set out to do. The rest of us pushed on as the winds on the ridges began to chill sweat soaked bodies and the skies grew steely and darkened. At 2:00 PM it was twilight and almost dark enough to haul out the lights again. An unsettling quiet crept in with the clouds that hugged the high ground.

I was running with Judy Carlucci and we were making good time, sticking to our 6.5 loop times. We were only held up by that sick water fountain at the nature center. Need to establish a water drop down there if that is what we got for water. So we finished our Trek loop and finished our HURT loop and were pleasantly surprised to find Cheryl waiting for us at the Paradise Gate. She popped the trunk and we huddled under it to eat and suddenly the skies tired of their threats and just let loose in an awfull display downpour that turned the road into a river. We huddled there, eating and fixing gear as tourists stumbled out of the trail-head, soaked and stunned by the deluge.

It was there that we learned of Paul's problems. Great try Paul! An inspiration and a great achievement just as it is. Hope you are well and recovered. (Paul was doing a 165 Mile attempt which included the Honolulu Marathon. He was forced to quit at mile 85 do to kidney problems and symptoms. He had promised his wife he would at least be sane with regard to his organs....)

It let up a bit, and we headed out again. It was wet and often muddy but not slippery. I pushed Judy hard stamping up behind her, breathing hard, threatening to tell her my thoughts on the gold market. It was the economics that got her to the top in fifty. By then it was raining again. Pauoa was deep, The bamboo channels up to our calves, the snake fields lakes of dirty brown water. All we needed was one of those crazed nature guys to be wadding around looking for the biggest python. Turning the corner it got windy, and by the ridge at Nu'uanu it was gusting hard, chilling us deeply. Judy kept saying she was from the Northwest now and her house was colder than this. But she didn't walk around her house in a wet shirtsleeves HURT shirt. I kept promising that when we hit the bottom of Five Minutes it would warm up. It did but suddenly unloaded on us once again. The hillsides began to disgorge water, the clouds dropped low, it became hard to talk to each other.

I've been through it before, and it seemed ok. Serious but not threatening, But the cold was getting to Judy, and she began to loose the line, and make the difficult spots treacherous downs. We passed Dougy Justin at the lookout and they were not looking to happy. Steve had phoned to tell them about flash-flood warnings, it was raining in big heavy drops, running out of the trees in water falls, but they had been up and down Nu'uanu and were going to go up and down Manoa to get their 50. It was unsaid that in this storm Manoa Cliffs was a Red Zone. Bad place be. And Kalawahine showed deep gullies that would be running and hill sides that were sliding and trees falling over. No need to be there if you didn't have to be.

We pushed on into the Enchanted Forest, and the rain got worse I joked with Judy that it was only really bad when you could scream and not hear the sound for the train rain. Judy was showing signs of early hypothermia; and as much as she wanted to complete the run, she had overloaded on the harsh conditions. We turned and headed back up, fording streams, and crossing waterfalls. Water was coming off the hillsides in torrents. Beyond the bench, in the last section of the Nu'uanu trail it was a stream, as was the Flats itself. Few roots, just one vast pan of water. The bamboo trenches were torrents, knee deep, but not dangerous. We were using lights as the darkness had descended quickly. Manoa Falls was roaring, creating its own wind storm as we pushed by and headed down the valley. We had not been out for 10 minutes when a harder rain swept through the valley, confirming the our decision to bail.

Almost a Loop

Cheryl, Rex, Judy Carlucci, and I met at Paradise at around 2:15 and headed out for a loop on Wednesday, December 8. I have a great many pictures of the first sections but finally stopped because of the dark. It was a slow and relaxed loop, with a lot of trail chatter and just the kind of thing my knees were looking for. Since we were heading out of Paradise and going to Nu'uanu my timing was a bit off. I just let the clock run and didn't bother to check it much. It was a beautiful day and we were having a good time.

Rex left us at the bench, and Judy and Cheryl soon were off ahead of me as I stopped to take a few pictures. At the bottom Cheryl took the short cut and I doggedly stuck to the hurt loop trail. I was hoping to catch them on the up, but that didn't happen and I fast walked my way to the top and back toward the maproom. It was looking like it might be a decent loop, or at least a sub-seven, and I pushed a bit on the Manoa Cliffs section. By then it was getting dark but the reflected light in the sky kept the trails in dim light. I didn't have to put on my light until somewhere along the cross-over. It was interesting to walk through the darkening forest, the birds were singing in almost every tree it seemed, and then suddenly as I rounded the top at Smokies, it was dead quiet. Then the night noises started. I pushed on trying not to use my light and only turned it on going down washboards and into footprints. I stopped up at the top of center trail and got out my headlamp.

Half way down Center trail I ran into Cheryl and Judy. They had gone down Hogback with the intent of meeting me on Center. Then we turned around and headed toward Mangos. We hadn't gone 100 yards on Nahuina before we met Mariann. We went on toward Kalawahine, along Kalawahine, stayed on it and cut off the switchbacks to the Map room and the Cut-off trail to Pauoa. At the Kalawahine trail head we headed back toward Manoa, and moved down Ahuilama. We finished at about 8:30. Which would make it a sub seven hour pace. That was my goal.

Its hard to put much into these diary like entries. However I do want to record them, as a means of logging the work that I'm doing toward HURT.

Devon has done in his knees. It is a sad thing. He tries too hard. I don't know why people can not listen to their bodies. The idea that you can power through pain is just bull shit. Fast people think this is some kind of wisdom. For the average man it is just great destruction.

Fast people may be physically superior and faster, but they are really quite stupid as a group when it comes to simple common sense. I think they often give bad advise because they are afraid slow people will catch them some day. Which they do, because slower runners last longer on the trails. We all face injury and pain. The critical point is to distinguish the two. Often they are synonymous. I've been running for years and my body continues to adapt to the stresses and strains. It is not an overnight process.

Yet Another Night 20

Tiss the season....for running through the jungle night. Friday December 5, 2008. This was scheduled as a forty, but we ended up doing a twenty. My knees were a bit sore, I fell, and Marico had a very weak ankle.

The loop started slow, with Fish hanging back from me, and my body rebelling at the need to climb the Hog Back. It was hard going up the first two sections of the ridge and I began to get a bit of a wind by the time we hit Too Steeps. At the Darkside I was surprised to find that we were on schedule. Pushing a bit harder we hit the top of Hogback at about 20. OK. But the down through Staircases was hard, and my knees were not happy right from the start. I could not get myself to go. I tried to get Fish to go ahead, but he seemed to know that if he left me I would just flake. Instead he hung back farther, allowing me to set my own pace, and keep him at a distance. A sly tactic that motivates me to push to widen the gap. I can surprise him on occasion and actually loose him around a corner or up a hill. But Fish is just cruising and when he downshifts he is right back up to me.

We pushed hard up Mangos and Nahuina, the trail in good soft conditions with only the occasional muddy pit. We hit the Kalawahine trail head at 55. I was satisfied. Fish spoke with Maricio and he would be coming down the trial to meet us. I pushed kalawahine hoping to hit the Junction by 1:15. We ran into Maricio and he fell in behind us. I was at the Junction by 1:15 and pushed up the switchbacks to the Maproom. It was a beautiful night. The light of the city lit our way in places, and then it was utter darkness in the ravines. We hit the maproom at 1:25 or so and I just dropped down into the cutoff without a stop. Hitting the flats I danced across the roots trusting to luck to get me through. No stop at the Pie stand, and just keep going down into Paradise. It was 2:00 hours at the Falls. 2:15 at the parking lot.

We turned and moved back up with barely a stop. We were back at the falls at 2:32, and up to the top quickly. I pushed on and we hit the bench at the grassy knoll at 3:15. I knew Marico was having trouble as he was hanging back, but I'm the slow one. I knew if I stopped I'd just loose the pace and fall behind. I kept pushing, keeping an eye out for his light, and knowing we'd pass at the bottom. We were at the turn around before 4:00 and headed back out.

Times became a bit unclear here as we were pushing, up the hill, then pushing the trail out of the grassy knoll. We reached the Map Room before 5:00. A sub-six was in my grasp. We just powered the Cliffs trail. It was raining and windy. It got slippery and both Fish and I were sliding here and there. I took a major down, mostly landing on my butt and back. But I used my arm a bit when I hit and it jammed it. I got up hurting, but the adrenalin of the fall gave me a bit more energy and we pushed on.

It was the same run I have done in the past weeks, but just a bit faster. The trails had been trimmed and that helped. The weather was perfect. I could smell a sub-six and that was important. We pushed on through the bamboo, the cliff trail, into the forest of Moleka, and down toward the bench. At the bench my clock read 5:35. It was 5:45 near the top of the Center trail and then with a final mad push we dropped into the Nature center at 5:54

My PR for a night loop I believe. It was a good six hours of hard concentration. None of it was particularly fast. It was just constant, never stop, never waiver kind of a run. The downs being just a bit faster than the ups. The long ups being just a minute or two slower than the downs.
Hard stuff. But I did what I wanted.

My knees are bothering me, and I believe it is a tendon issue. I will be massaging it a bit more in the coming days. It concerns me that I have not done a 40 in a long time. My longest run run was about a 43 at the Peacock. I need to get in a few fifties before the HURT. But a 5:54 felt good. Like I said to Fish. From now on its slower loops until the HURT itself. I've done my speed training. Now its just endurance, and time on the trail.

Don and I do Makapu'u Repeats

Well this was not a run more than a long walk, but for Don it marked the beginning of a long awaited comeback. It was nice to get out there with him and march up the hill to the Makapu'u light and stand there on the lookout, watching the colors of the sea change, and just talk in that relaxed kind of way that runners do when they take a bit of a break.

For Don it marked the first time he had gone out running without Neo, his port, embedded in his chest for a long time. He brought Neo along so I could take a look at it. A blue plastic kind of valve about the size of a pacemaker. The nastiest part of Neo was that he connected to a tube that was inserted in his carotid artery. That always had Don just a bit on edge about moving fast...Hell to pay if you fell with that little thingy squirling around in the artery that supplies your brain.

We walked and talked about running, the unpleasant side effects of the last chemo session, the goals for the next few months. This Wednesday morning run has been a tradition for years now. It was nice to enjoy it once again.

We did two loops up and down. Walking by the tourists and hikers at our brisk pace. The breezes were light, the ocean was beautiful, the recent rains had greened up the hillsides a bit. Makapu'u is a nice little workout if you make it fast, and a pleasant walk if you just want to talk and loosen up. We choose the latter today.

An Over and Back

An over and Back is from Paradise to Nu'uanu and back. It takes between three to four hours and entails two very rugged ups and steep downs. What is level is generally very technical given the roots and rocks. Pictures of an over and back. (http://picasaweb.google.com/mmuench01/MonicaSSunday#)

I did about half of this in the dark. Manoa is always hard in the dark and even more treacherous than normal. I did a 4 hour turn. Nothing great but I had a few phone calls and an occasional good slip or fall.

I was running in my Addidas Supernova Trail 5's which I really like. This version is not that hot but it is good. I had on two pairs of socks. Inginge toe socks under a pair of Thurlo running crew socks. I was running with a camelpack with a full bladder.

This was a solo run. It was not hard but I'm very tired. It rained yesterday and I managed to catch some non-rain time. Trails were beautiful in general, with patches of mud.