Ouachita Switchbacks!!!

It's Sunday evening, and I have finally decided to take 800 mg of Vitamin I to help with the soreness of my legs. Still, I am still a little giddy about the race yesterday. Ouachita Switchbacks was not as much a run for me as it was an endeavor of endurance. It was my measuring stick to see where I am--what I might be able to do. Was it possible for me to cover 18 miles with over 3000 feet of climbing? And would doing that put me out of commission? The answers--yes, and no.

The race takes place on the Ouachita Trail--a trail which spans two states running from Talahina, Oklahoma 223 miles eastward to Little Rock Arkansas. Around 50 miles of the trail is in Oklahoma, and this race covered about 16 miles of that 50. We started in the Pashubee Trailhead campground. Both the 25K and 50K started together, and ran west toward Winding Stair Campground. We'd go 9.2 miles to the Mountain Top Aid Station--a hiker's shelter near Winding Stair. From there, we'd come back. 50Kers would then go around 6.5 miles eastward to their turnaround, which was just past a waist-high water crossing in the frigid Kiamichi River.

Our caravan left Tulsa at 3:45 am and got to the race with plenty of time to spare. I picked up my hoodie and race bib then retreated to out vehicle and tried to get in a 50 minute catnap. That nap turned into a 70 minute nap, and Jenni woke me up with two minutes to get my Camelback on and trot to the starting line. I stated my race about two minutes late, which was no bother to me at all.

Quickly catching up with a party-like contingent of our group, I was immediately in good company. Tammy Cryer was rocking the OU poncho, as it was raining lightly--more than enough to saturate, but not enough to impair vision, or slop up the trailz too much.

A little more than a mile into the race, we came to the Toilet Tree. I am sure MANY a hiker has used this tree for just that.

I tried in vain--I needed a magazine to read. There was no way to flush it anyway.

When we ran here a few weeks ago, the trail was heavily leaf covered. Not so much here though. In the Ouachitas where the mountains run east and west, pine trees grow on the southern side of the mountains and leafy trees grow on the northern side. With 200 runners in the race, most of the leaves were smunched down or kicked out of the way. Running on pine needles is heavenly.

Lisa McManus snapped this picture of me. I was a little overdressed. I had a fleece vest under my Gortex jacket. Shortly this I tied the vest to my Camelback.  I was a little cold, but still quite comfortable when moving.

I moved ahead from a good group of friends, and ran alone for the next few miles. I hit the first aid station (around 4 miles in) and then headed down the hill to the lowest point on the course, and of course a water crossing. 

Instead of trying to find rocks to hop skotch across, I plowed on in. I don't mind wet feet in a trail race. Not a big fan of mud, but wet feet is not so bad. Slipping on a wet rock sticking out of the water might mean a polar bear plunge--not really what I had in mind for this day. 

From here, the course climbed steadily for almost all of the next five miles. As bad as it looked on the elevation profile though, it was a more gradual ascent. I found I could shuffle easily and that seemed to be slightly faster than my walk.

Jeremy caught up with me. He evidently started a bit later than I did. We ran together off and on for the rest of the race.

The trail followed the edge of this stream for around a mile. I was amazed at how green the water was. 

There were several primitive campsites here, but these were not places where you could drive in. You had to load your camping gear, tents, food, cooking utensils, and them pack it all out. Still--I want to come back and spend more time here.

The rain had let up, but it was cloudy, foggy, and mysterious. Clouds at times engulfed the distant mountain tops.

I make no claims to a good pace, but I did push and managed to catch up with Deana. I also started seeing runners coming back from the turn-around. Josh Snyder, Victor Brown, Clay Mayes all sped by like they were out for a leisurely Saturday morning run. Relaxed but FAST. I eventually caught up with Deanna and we ran together for a mile or so. When we got to the top of the long gradual climb, I picked up the pace a little. (Gravity helps the fat man on the downhills.)

I caught up with Jenni and Johnna, and we ran to the bottom and shifted gears for the final ascent up a series of switchbacks on the final climb to the Mountain Top aid station. The climb was around 750 feet, and it seemed to get colder as we went. Bits of sleet and snow was falling, and the mountain was not far from being white.

I hate hearing "You're almost there," when it's still a half mile away with 200 feet of ascent, but someone told us it was "just a few bends away," so we started counting the switchbacks.

Finally, close to an hour of marching, we reached the top. The wind was brisk, and with the dampness in the air, I started chilling. Kate Ellisor was manning the aid stop. She had spent the night there, and I don't know how she kept from freezing. Her dog was wrapped in a fleece blanket, and she seemed happy.

They had a cook stove, but the propane bottles kept freezing up. Getting a campfire started was not working either. Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant could start a fire with wet logs by rubbing two icicles together. Those skills could have been used up here.  We made a shredded cheese burrito Popsicle, which believe it or not, was so delicious. I guess I needed the calories.

We stopped at a scenic vista and took a couple of pictures. Our selfie blocked out part of the vies, so I took a pano without heads in the way.

Down the mountain we were on, up the next one, then down then up--that should get us there. We counted switchbacks on the way down and there were 33 hairpin turns on the way. It was runnable, but with the cold, the occasional rocks and roots, my knee history, and the fact that my legs felt like telephone poles meant my pace was a shuffling slog. 

I had seen pictures of this rock slide, and I thought the "trail" went right up this way. Wrong--although the trail did cross it. It was just a matter of bunny hopping across.

Miss Congeniality poses for a picture.

Here's the area with the green water and lots of fire rings where campsites have been. This looks like a decent swimming hole. Not today though.

The stream crossing--the last one where you basically had to get your feet wet. It felt so good on my tired dogs. 

Some people worry about getting your feet wet on a run--and getting blisters. I did not get one blister, although I did administer a generous amount of Happy Feet to my toes before putting on my Smart Wool socks. This is a winning combination.

Johnna did the wade thing too.

Deanna caught up with us and ran with us for the rest of the race. She took a crash at a water crossing early in the race. She was pretty cautious after that.

The last 2.8 miles seemed much longer. There were no super bad climbs, but the route seemed flat when we ran it in the morning. There would have been no way to get off course from this point on--unless you turned OFF the well marked single track trail onto a two-track forest service road, but it seemed to take us so long to get to the finish that I began to wonder if there was any way we could have made a mistake. But my delirious mind hung onto logic, and we kept pushing on. Finally--finally--we saw vehicles and people, and knew we were about 200 yards away. Johnna took off--gotta look good at the finish. I was not competing, but I still needed to kinds-sorta look good... so I increased my shuffle by 2-3 inches per stride and go to within a half-a-sneaker of her as we crossed the imaginary finish line.

We finished in 7:57. Hey!! We broke 8 hours. I looked at my Strava data to see if I had a notably fast mile, and it never really happened. My splits are embarrassing, so I'm not posting them. Running with a stuffed Camelback, extra clothes, cold temps, gimpy knee, tired legs, aid station stops, stopping for pictures, stopping to pee--oh I have lots of excuses. I'm ok with it. Deep down, I believe I passed the test I submitted myself too. I didn't drop. I had a smile when I finished. I felt good. I still feel good. The one good note--our outbound trip was 4:01. We finished in 7:57 for a negative split--aided by a lot less climbing on the way back.

I'm way impressed by those who did 50K here. I know how I felt after doing 18.5 miles--having to go out for another 13ish, and two 1100 foot climbs?? WOW!!

I kinda-sorta think I'll be back next year--and if I don't beat myself up doing something silly like Athens/Big Fork the week before, I may try getting 50K in here.

Report from a little run in 2012

I ran sort of an impromptu run today at Spavinaw WMA. I needed a good long run, and of course wanted to run it on trailz, and maybe someplace other than Turkey Mountain, although I love it here. A change of scenery is nice.

I posted this map on Facebook mainly because I wanted to do a screen capture for my phone, and talk of where this was and when I was going came up, and although I was not trying to take a gang of runners with me, some company was awesome. Scott Smaligo and Danielle Martin rode up with me and we took out running just after 9:00 am in 15° temps.

I had three layers of Icebreaker on my upper torso, and was plenty warm, sweated a little, but was never too warm. The sun was up and bright, and the skies were postcard blue, with only a hint of breeze a time or two during our run. I unzipped my jacket and removed my gloves to get the right body temps, and the cold was not a factor at all in my run. I'll call it perfect weather and good clothes.

I ran here last summer, and this seems like a super place to run long. It was today. I was a little concerned about there being deer hunters out, and later in our run, we did see quite a few pick-up trucks with dudes all camoed out. They all seemed friendly although one guy said (maybe kiddingly?) that he thought he had seen it all, referring to the oddity of seeing three runners out there in the middle of nowhere.

The course is mostly gravel roads, with a little dirt road here and there. The black lines on the map are good maintained forest service roads with places where the gravel was a bit loose and a bit large. I wore my Montrail AT Plus trail shoes, and they did me well, but the balls of my feet feel slightly bruised after 17.4 miles of these roads. Not complaining, just commenting.

It was DRY there, but early on, we did have one spot that was almost a mandatory water crossing. A good Kodak moment, and then we stepped around it.

I suspect there are around 20-22 miles of good roads like these, and several off-shoots which are not as well groomed. We took one such road/trail, and followed it for a mile thinking we would get a good view of Lake Spavinaw. My map showed it to be a dead end, but I still thought it might connect to another similar trail for a loop, but it did not. So, we had an out-and-back added which included a LOT of rustling through loose leaves. The game management folks just don't rake leaves.

There is another distinct feature to the roads and trailz here. The area includes Hills. We had 6 or 7 significant climbs on the run, and we talked about whether these were worse than Pumpkin Holler. I'd say close, but there are definitely more of them. Look at the course elevation profile down the page--or don't. I'll talk more about it when I get there.

I love running under the pines. It was nice to see something still green. I mentioned while taking pix that I loved doing so (and of course posting them.) I feel it's like throwing out bait--the next time we come up, we'll make a TOT run out of it, and pictures help sucker people in--hills or not.

This is hill number 4 or 5. We ran some of them, and would stop to walk the last little bit if they were real steep. I also use the take-picture excuse to catch a breather.

Danielle almost had Scott talked into walking across this fallen tree. It would have been about a 20 foot drop if he fell. No takers today.

At around mile 10, we ran through an area where a fire had cleared a large area of trees. It was still a beautiful area though. Not sure what these two were talking about--probably the fiscal cliff or something.

This is the start of a 1.5 mile gradual downhill. Fun.

Lots of little ups and downs to go with some of the longer climbs, but a lot of it was runable.

We finally came to an intersection where we accessed our pace/progress/time remaining, and decided to shorten our run. The big loop we had planned would have definitely been longer than 20 miles--maybe as much as 24, and Scott had a commitment at 3:00--so we lopped off the loop furthest west. This move dealt us a long steep hill which we discussed the possibility of there being a McDonald's or a QuikTrip at the top. I even thought we might see the pearly gates there, but we were all wrong.

With the map I had, I never felt lost. The roads marked were good roads, and we never made a wrong turn (while running anyway--I did miss a turn driving up here due to yapping and not paying attention.) Here, I KNEW we must be going the right way since there were TATUR PINK RIBBONS on the trees.

After running through a 2-3 mile stretch on the bottom of a beautiful valley, we had one more climb to get back to where our car was. This climb was followed by a very steep downhill that Danielle ran like a gazelle. Scott walked it, I jogged it, and Scott's walk was faster than my jog. My poor feet were sore, and I was to the point where I was liking the uphills more than the downhills.

This is the route we ran. The loop on the left would have been about twice the size if we had ran it. We might still be out there--ya never know.

And the elevation profile from my Garmin. I like looking at these, but they don't always tell the true story. I will not tell you this was a "relatively flat" course. But looking at this profile, you might think there were NO FLAT SECTIONS AT ALL. Well, there were. The first mile did not even seem hilly. We ran it all. Miles 2-4 were easily runable. Miles 9-11--another good fast section. And even though it looks like a killer climb, mile 14.5-15.5 was right down the bottom of a flat valley. It might have been a very gradual climb, but it was easy to motor even though we were all pretty tired.

This is a fun place to run. I wonder a little about whether we should have been there as I really don't want to interfere with a hunter and his prey. I'll check on the regulations before bringing a TOT group up. And when we do make the trip, y'all better come.

Mojo found

A friend tagged me today with a link to a video about Errol "Rocket" Jones, Trail Running Elder titled The Pleasure and the Pain. The title of course got my attention--anything with trail running in the title does this, but the "Elder" part really tweaked my curiosity.
Errol is a 65 year old 100 miler in the San Francisco area, with several 100 mile finishes on his resume including the Grand Slam. (Vermont 100, Leadville 100, Western States, and Wasatch 100 in the same year.)

Like me, he is in a three-year drought in his finish rate, and is not at all happy about that but he's training hard to right the ship. Errol made the statement that he can't imagine life without running, but knows that that day is coming. In the meantime, he is embracing the suffering, because the pleasure is in the overcoming. This is truth.

Not to go overboard in my comparison to him, but I am disappointed, aggravated, disgusted with my running decline. A nagging knee injury has sucked my mojo away, but the "want-to" has never died. I truly miss running with my friends. I know there will be a day when running is over for me--but that time is not now. I'm happy to say that in the past few weeks, I have laced up my trail shoes and have trotted out a few runs. I am nearly giddy like a new runner--the excitement is back! Rubbing elbows with new trail running friends both new and old, has rekindled my desire. I've recommitted to getting fit, joined a couple of Facebook running and fitness groups, and have spent a few hours snooping my favorite 100-mile-menu. :-)

When will I be back on top of my game? I do not know, but the first wrung of the ladder is January 16 at Ouachita Switchbacks where I'll be doing the 25K-ish run with an army of my trail-running buddies. And my 100 this year, when I pick it out, will be one that I am confident I can finish. I agree to suffer to feel the joy of buckling.

Shark sighting at the Polar Bear Plunge.

Some people have to do crazy things. Sometimes those things might be jumping into a swimming pool on January 1st--when the low temp was 28 degrees. It's actually fun when a few hundred friends show up to do the same crazy thing. And it's always even more fun to do it wearing a shark suit.

Picture by Chris Dial

Mitch Drummond and I were decked out as sharks. He was a little more famous being the Left Shark. I (as the Right Shark) was pointed out as a better dancer, but that almost HAS to be wrong, although I did flap my flippers around quite a bit. Actually, I was out of position here--being on the left. Maybe Mitch really was the better dancer. Tammy (in the middle) was to be Katy Perry, but had a wardrobe malfunction, having her costume just out of reach (actually on the other side of the state) so she was Katy Perry disguised as the blond gal running with the sharks.

Picture by Bland Bridenstine

 We tried to bull our way in to the costume contest, but were no match for sheer beauty like Jenni and Christal. 

Picture by Bland Bridenstine

We made three dives into the pool. Between each plunge was a little bit of running to get us spread out. That worked well except when we got to the water slides. 

Picture by Chris Dial

I went in head first for the first plunge. What a rush!! Our shark suits were actually pretty warm, and even soaking wet, they were warm--but HEAVY!! Between dips, I gave high fives and wet sloppy hugs to anyone foolish enough to get close to me.

Picture by Chris Dial

We had two choices--take the open slide, or the tube. It seemed to me that the tube sent sliders down much faster, and Mitch and I opted for that one. It was pitch black in the tube, and I landed butt down in the pool, and popped back up headless. Mitch helped me pull my head back up over my head. Up to that point, very few people really knew just who was in the suit.

Picture by Chris Dial

For the final plunge, we had to dive to the bottom of the pool to get our medals that they through out for us to retrieve. What a sick idea. It is nearly impossible for a shark to pick up a medal off the bottom of a pool having only FLIPPERS! But I managed, although it took a while.

Picture by Tulsa World

Mitch and I were the last two out of the pool, and a Tulsa World photographer was waiting for us--and we got a write up in the paper. The three of us had FUN. Thanks to Lifetime Fitness for letting TATUR put on this event at their marvelous facility. These are good times indeed.