Blue Whale run

Each year--usually in the fall, a group of RunnersWorld friends assemble on 11th Street aka Route 66 and make a trek eastward toward Catoosa to see the Blue Whale. It's a 31-mile round trip and is a good training run for an ultra that someone may or may not have in their near future.

Thanks, Isabel, for the pic

This time around, 12 runners met at the Quik Trip at 11th/Utica Ave and headed out around 6:20. 

Me--I had dead legs, and it took a couple of miles to get loosened up and out of the suck zone.

Old Route 66 is packed with landmarks. The old Rose Bowl is one and sadly is in a state of disrepair. I am afraid one day, I'll run by and see it leveled.

Quik Trips are our aid stations, and we pass five on the way out--every three miles +/-. There is one stretch between Garnett and the Catoosa QT where there are no quickie stores--about a six-mile dry run.

This year, Tammy Cryer set up an aid station about half way between. She had taken requests and had a well-stocked table of goodies. My favorite-pickles and Oreos stackables were on hand and I partook liberally. She also has pickle Popsicles which really hit the spot. 

We reached the Blue Whale in around 4 hours--not really a land-speed record, although stopping at each QT and hanging around the aid station adds up. Our moving time was actually not that bad. We averaged 13-14 minute miles for most of the way out.

Thanks, Lynna, for the pic

Any banked time was spent at the Whale, taking pictures and such.

The blue whale is a cool place, and especially so at night.

My new phone seems to do a great job with night pictures-compared to what my 6S that recently died could do.

We spent around 15 minutes here goofing around.

Funny-I have never been to the blue Whale during the day.

Back at the Catoosa QT, I decided to catch a ride back. Thank you, Roman. I had K-taped my knee, and that was an experiment with satisfactory results. I also wore my stretchy knee wrap, and it was getting uncomfortable. I rationalized that stopping at 19 miles would leave me energy for some hill repeats today--but right now it's raining, so we'll see how that goes. 

Take the long way home

After Do Wacka Do, I headed out purposing to always turn south or east. 

 Yes, I like black and white pics.

This was my only ghost town-ish sighting--I took several pics and this was the best f the bunch.

 Long country roads that go right over the end of the earth--I likes dis.

 And another. I swear there were Mountains on the horizon.

There they are!! You could actually see these from Do Wacka Do. These were near the quaint town of Granite.

 I wanted to just drive u to these mountains--they actually were not near as big as they seemed to be from a distance. I guess it's because everything is so painfully flat.

 I think it's dead now.

 Getting there. Would I get to climb? Would I Want to climb?

 Umm----no.Looks like a good rattlesnake habitat.

Let's go this way. And yes--more of the same.  I ended up in Granite, and did a boring jaunt down the east side of Lake Altus. From there, I violated my always south or east rule and headed west and noticed Quartz Mountain State Park. It showed they had hiking trailz, so of course, I had to go.

I found one short dirt trail, and it was way overgrown. Besides the ticks and chiggers who were perched and ready to bite, a sign also warned of biting rattlesnakes. This seems like a really good winter-time trail.

I followed the road on around and found what must have been a lodge.A nice place. The trailz here were well-groomed concrete and asphalt.

Well, I got out and checked them out. I was wearing flip flops, and decided to do a little bit barefoot. 1.8 miles later, my feet felt revived.

I drove around just a little more, and headed on to find my next adventure, and what an adventure it turned out to be. I was driving north, and noticed an old gray headed man with a back pack hunched over walking very slowly downhill on the narrow shoulder of the road.The road north did not appear to be leading to anything of interest, so I turned around and pulled up alongside this old man. Rolling the window down, I asked if he was okay or needed any water. He said he was fine and just lived about 100 feet away, pointing back over his shoulder. He said something about his spark pugs being all messed up in his truck and needed to get parts. He was wearing denim overalls, a flannel shirt, a  windbreaker jacket, a quilted ball cap, and a cheap backpack that looked like it had nothing in it. I offered him a ride, and at first, he said no, and then maybe--if I could just give him a lift down to the highway (about a mile away.) "Where do you need to go," I asked. "Hobart," the reply, "but just get me to the highway and he'd hitchhike from there."

I had no idea where Hobart was--actually I thought he said Hubert, and that was one heck of a long ways away. 'Which way is Hobart?" pointing east and west. "East, but you don't need to bother," I told him I was wanting to go to the Wichita Mountains, and it just as well have been Wichita Kansas. Then, I told him it was kind of near Lawton, and we were getting dialed in. t turns out that Hobart was kinda/sorta on the way, and I convinced him to get in. (Please note: This story does not have a gruesome ending. Nothing weird happens. I did not rob him for his backpack. He did not pull a knife on me. I didn't get foul smelly stains on my car seats.

Hobart was 17 miles away, and this dude got to talking and it seemed like it was 117 miles away. He was hard of hearing (and well, I am too-but not as bad as he was.) He came from Oregon where he was a laminator and cabinet installer. Oregon inducted a lot of government regulations for construction contractors and being a headstrong old codger, he bucked the system and ended up having no clients and income, and it was just those damn liberals who ruin everything and it's all about greed, and America is losing all its freedom. What I said in two sentences took him 14 miles with me driving 65 mph to say-loudly. thought about asking if he was ready for America to be Great Again, but thought better of it.

Th second part of his life story was how his wife of 28 years divorced him. She was 22 when they got married, and he was 18 years older than her. She just upped and left him when he became jobless in Oregon. Go figure. He moved to Oklahoma because he saw where he could buy a decent trailer house for about 10% of what his trailer house cost in Oregon. And how here, he was hired by two Korean women who owned a lot of motels in the area, and he was their handyman. He was given the assignment of remodeling a building they had recently bought on 10 wooded acres, and they were gonna turn into a resort near the Quartz Mountain State Park. I felt the conversation was going into more depth about his relationship with these two women and was cringing at the thought of opening another chapter in his book.

Finally, we got to Hobart, and he asked for me to drop him off at a quickie sore on the corner. I offered to drive him to wherever he actually needed to go, but the store was good enough. I was glad I helped this man. He did say he was having severe back pain and was gonna have to get him some of those Doan's pills. It was a wee bit on the warm side, and he was overdressed. And he would probably have never gotten a ride hitchhiking, and it would have been a real problem for him to walk from where I picked him up to the highway and especially back uphill to wherever his trailer house was.

On to the Wichitas. I found a route that entered the park from the west side but noticed my low fuel light flashed as I neared the turnoff. Uh oh. So, I got Siri to find me a nearby gas station some 12 miles away--a small detour. This pic is a rocky outcropping of a hill near the trail head for the Elk Mountain Trail. I have been on about a mile on the other end of this trail system, but need to come here when I have time to spend a few hours.

This is Elk Mountain in all its splendor. You can also link u with Charon''s Garden, and see Crab Eyes, and Apple and Pear--unique rock formations which are well worth the hike to see.

This woolly guy looked up to see what the hay I was doing, and then just chilled while I worked to get a camera angle where I could see him through this old tree.

I made a quick stop at the Parallel Forest and made a video. I'm not sure if it will load up in this blog format. Apparently, if you put it on Youtube, all is golden.

I wanted a Meersburger, but there was a quarter mile of cars parked up and down the road to the Meers Corner, n a line of people out the door. so I went to Medicine Park instead. Driving through, I decided to just take my chances in finding something on the way home. Billy Sims BBQ fit the bill, and I even got to watch a little bit of the OU game while waiting.

I want to get a BIG group of friends and camp here 
and run all weekend sometime soon.

Do Wacka Do. I wacked out

Do Wacka Do was this past Saturday. I have missed only one--I think. This is one of my favorite runs, and if I'm counting right, I have only missed one. This year, I had grand plans of running the 50 Mile. I had my mobile aid station right by the path into the start/finish, and took the one-hour early start. I camped and was somewhat restless. But at 5:30, I got dressed, got myself all lubed and fueled, and stumbled over to get my packet, and still managed to start 6 minutes past the official 6:00 early start. I am pretty sure I was the only one to start early--but I felt I needed it. I had a good 45 minutes of running with the headlamp--not so much to see the trail (actually gravel roads) but to see any rattlesnakes that might be slithering out to catch a few early morning rays.

I had a good 30 minutes of running before first light and 45 minutes before the sun peeked over the horizon. Temperatures were forecasted to be in the mid-80s--a good 15 degrees cooler than most years. I have had a rule (excuse) for NOT doing the 50K or 50 miles if it were over 90 degrees. There is absolutely no shade anywhere on the course save an aid station tent or crawling under a cactus--if the rattlesnake would share with you. 

With a 54 minute head start, and my shuffling pace at around 17 m/m average,  I thought I'd be caught by speedy 25k runners by the time I reached mile 5. At mile 4.5, a guy passed me running like a kid with new sneakers. He had a solid 10 minute lead on the next runner, but after that, I was continually passed all day. I do love this course. It has a lot of gradual uphills and downhills--and then it has hills that seem to climb right up to heaven. There are several climbs from 120-180 feet, and the toughest climbs are short but every bit as steep as climbing 12 flights of steps--gravel covered steps.

It's easy to take a good picture here--just hold up your phone and push the button. Every picture is beautiful.

Besides the steep uphills, there are miles and miles of gradual downhills. I planned on pounding these, but bad mojo joined with a sore-ish knee and kept me at an 18 m/m shuffle pace. Still, this pace could, in theory, get me to the finish line.

This was a lonely run. Other than a few people who spoke as they passed,  and a few friends like Scott, Chrissy, and Krystal who stopped to chat, and Lisa and Andi from Arkansas--I was mostly alone. In years past, I have run the entire race with a friend. Three years ago, it was Susan Melon Westmoreland. The next year, I ran with Shorty. Last year, I ran with Misty.

So, I had lots of time to think. I crunched numbers, calculated my pace and how much it would decline on the subsequent laps, how I would stack up against the cut-offs, and how my current pace would serve me in my upcoming 100-miler.

And I took a few pictures. I peed. I stopped at only the last aid station (Since I was an early starter, the first three aid stops were not yet manned.)

It became clear to me that I would be barely within the time limit on finishing my second lap, and with any slowdown at all, or if I stopped to eat or spend any extra time at all at the start/finish, I could kiss my hopes of a 50-mile finish goodbye. I was okay with that. A 50K run as a training run 4 weeks before my big race was fine.

So I plugged along. I  had not really eaten anything, and fortunately, I had brought a Clif Bar and  5-Hour Energy with me.  Nibbling and sipping, and popping a couple of Hammer caps, and I was able to keep the faith.

A mini-grand canyon. Or as Scott put it--a Real Leap O'Doom.

My knee--that sometimes lets me run worry and pain-free--decided that today I was not gonna run inclines like this. Uphills and downhills were manageable but slow. Hills what also sloped to the side were my undoing. It seemed like things were gradually getting a little worse. Each step had a bit of a twinge. If only I had brought my knee wrap. It was back at my camp.

So, my mind kept on processing. One voice in my left ear said to be happy with 50K. Get back to the halfway point, eat, drink, take my super-energy drink, put my knee wrap on, take some Ibuprofen, and just go. Focus on keeping my pace steady. The voice in my right ear said to play it safe and stop at 25K. Eat, drink, shower, and spend some time on the way home ghost-towning and picture taking, get home early, maybe go for a run Sunday.  And then there's the person who lives between the ears thinking both scenarios suck. I needed a 50-mile run. My meager effort of using races for training was going to pot. Someone would say "but 16 miles is amazing," and I'd wanna crawl under a rock. Ugh.

My final 2 miles in the loop were my last official two for the race. I sat in a chair away from everyone, except my buddy Lynna came over to chat with me. I didn't eat, although I did drink an orange juice. A hot shower later, I felt fine and decided to pack up camp and listen to that voice that mentioned the ghost towning and picture taking. Click here for that post. Lots of pictures,and a story that no pictures could convey.

Congrats to my friends who kicked ass in all the distances. Victor cruised to an easy win in the 50-me. Rachel Coulter sped to an easy win in the 25K. Chris Schnell seized the opportunity to win the 5-mile. I earned another DFL sticker. But good things still await me-I believe that.

Sizzlin' Sasquatch 2017

RJ and Summer Chiles put on this 3-day event each year where you can run 5K, 10K, half marathon, full marathon, or 50k each day of the Labor Day weekend. The race has grown a  little each year, and I can see it growing leaps and bounds in the future. This year they added a 24-hour team relay for Saturday, and I was invited to be on a team. So, my plans included a spot on the TZ Zombie Shufflers, and then running some distance the next day depending on how I felt.

I intended to get off work early and bring my camper, but delays at work and not having the camper up and ready made me rethink my plans so I set my alarm for 3:00 am and drove down supa-early for the race. I got there with time to spare, got my water bottle filled, stuffed my pockets with electrolytes and snacks, and headed to the prerace briefing. Our 5-man team included Lynna Gilstrap, Jamey Zuniga, Abby Ivey, and Clint Green. Another group of friends made u the team of Some Like I Thot--or something like that. They had Mike Rives, Leaha Kopp, Steve Zuniga, Alicia Bell, and Jeremy Harrison--a stacked team to say the least.

I chatted it up with friends, took a selfie with Chrissy--who was planning on a half for each day. The race started at 6:00 am--still dark and no signs of sun-up.  The course was 3.53 mile loops on trailz through the woods and across some grassy fields. You never ran more than a quarter mile before something changed--in the woods, up a hill, over some rocks, beside a pond, a screaming downhill-it was never boring.

Jamey ran first on our team, and Leaha was first on the stacked team. They stayed together for the first loop. I ran the second loop for our team and took off like a shot. Jumpin Jeremy tracked me down and I ate his dust for a few strides before he was out of sight. That was the last time we led the race against them.

The sun peaked out at me as I ran up the first of many slight inclines (I hesitate to call them hills--I'm like that.) It truly seemed like there were a lot more gradual downhills than ups, and I ran what seemed like a fast loop for me clocking a 42:10--an11:57 pace. That pace would slow as the race went on.

I only took one picture on the first loop as I was trying to do well for our team. I did take a few on the next loop. This is what most of the trailz were like. Mix in a few roots and rocks here and there.

Rocks like this. In case you ever got lost, once you reached this turn, you knew where you were at. (Yes, I ended a sentence with a preposition. Live with it.)

The last turn into the finish line each loop inspired running. There was always hooting and cheering from volunteers and even from opposing teams. I was 58:26 on my second loop. My legs seemed dead for the first mile, then I came around. Each loop I picked up the pace for the last 1.5 miles. Between my loops, I set up my camp--a small tent and a longer-than-expected blow-up mattress.  At least I had a chance of catching a nap between loops during the night.

My third loop was 46:19-an improvement-a 46:40. My fourth was 1:01:10. Fatigue was setting in. After this loop, I ate some dinner--absolutely delicious hamburgers and potato salad. There was also some drunken peach cobbler, but I did not go back up to get some. I heard it was amazing. I then decided to take a shower and try to catch a few winks. Between 11:00 and 2:00, I managed to sleep but it wasn't very restful at all. I rolled out of the tent, and somehow the order of the rotation had changed. No biggie, but I didn't know when I'd get to run again but somewhere around 3:00 my turn came up. Steve Zuniga (from the other Tulsa team) and I walked a loop. Then Cint took the next loop and I fell asleep in a chair. When Clint finished his loop, he said we were through there was no way anyone could finish the final loop in the time we had remaining and even if we did, we were not gonna catch the team ahead of us. He mentioned we had an hour and 10 minutes, and I just sat n my chair like a slug. I should have gone out on that last loop. Here I am--supposedly training for Cloudsplitter, a tough 100 miler--and I would not get out of my chair. But we did finish 3rd out of four teams. The Some Like It Hot team took 2nd, running 99.4 miles. I do not know how many loops or miles we did. The results should be finalized tomorrow.

I sat in my chair, kind of beating up on myself. I wanted to sign up and run something, but I also just wanted to go home. Maybe I'd just run a 5K and quietly leave. Then the RD, Mr. RJ Chiles came over to me and asked me if I wanted to get some points. These are big words--perked me right up. The points of which he spoke are Oklahoma Trail Dirt Series points. The Dirt Series includes 23 trail races across Oklahoma. You get points for each race you run or volunteer in, and bonus points for top 10 finishes. I do a lot of races. I RD and volunteer in a lot of races. I will never win the series, but I could crack the top three with a little luck. He told me that the marathon field was weak (like there was only one male signed up, and he had not arrived. It turns out that he did show up and dropped down to the half, and another marathoner took an early start and was not eligible for awards. So--it I ran and finished, I'd get the win-participation points and first place points. Now if someone says that's cheese, I would honor anyone getting points for an official race finish if they were the only finisher. Plus, I had run 17.5 miles the night and day before, and the temperature was gonna reach the mid-90s. Then he said if I won, I'd get The Yeti Cup. Now remember--I was still half asleep with no coffee. I heard Yeti Cup and thought of like The Stanley Cup--a huge monumental trophy coveted by many. I was out of the chair in a flash, getting my water bottle full, tieing on a bandana, plopping my headlamp on my noggin, and pinning on a race number in seconds flat.

Somewhere during the second loop, it hit me that the award was a Yeti Cup--not a trophy, but a stainless steel cup that keeps ice for days. I have several. It's a super nice gift, and yes I wanted another. I felt silly, but hey--the jokes on me and I'm sharing my folly with you.

Five laps Saturday, and now seven laps and an out-and-back. So doable. My attitude turnaround went like this. 

1. I now had redeemed myself (from my own self-scrutiny) and now felt good about my training.
2. I'd get some good points towards my Dirt Series total.
3. I'd win a race. (Of course, I would also have another DFL.) 
4. I NEEDED the miles as preparation for Cloudsplitter. I ended up with 43.85 miles for the two days and ran them sleep-deprived.

While Saturday was mostly cloudy and in the mid-80s, today was sunny and in the mid-90s. When the trail was exposed to the sun, it was rough. Due to nipple chafing, I ditched my shirt-so if you are easily nauseated, you might want to skip the rest of this blog-post.

I met up with Mike Rives after a loop or two. Mike is also on the Cloudsplitter team--there are eight of our group going out to run this 100 miler in Virginia in five weeks. Mike ran at least 7 laps in the relay and was now running 50K. His training is going well. We ran together for most of the day and nearly solved all of life's problems.

Here we are crashed out at the start/finish aid station eating a bite and rehydrating We picked u Abby, who decided to jump in on the marathon four hours after the start. She is RJ's sister and even if she finished into the evening, it was ok. She would run with Mike as he finished his 50K.

The three of us leave out after a much-needed aid station stop. I had three more loops to go. Mike had four. Abby had six.

Mike had acquired a healthy coating dirt-sweat. This mixture dries, and then is remoistened by more sweat and then more trail dust. Downside--it generally takes two scrubbings to remove it. Upside--ticks, chiggers, and mosquitos cannot bite through it.

My race went well. I handled the heat just fine. The race never seemed like a drudgery. Maybe it was the good company. Maybe I was just in a good place. I finished in 8:39. Strava gives me a 7:10 moving time. I guess that's their version of auto-pause. It's a slow time, although I was not pushing the ace except the last half of the last loop. That pace is adequate to get me to the finish line at Cloudsplitter, except Cloudspitter has easily 6 TIMES MORE elevation per mile. You will hear more about Cloudsplitter in future blog-posts.

Thank you, Chrissy Whitten, for staying after your race to help at the start/finish and taking such good care of us hot runners, and taking great pictures. Chrissy was second place in her half marathons Saturday and Sunday and got the win on Monday.

Nexxt year, I would like to see more of my friends here. I'd love to have Dana here as she would love these trailzz. And I want to run 50K/50K/Marathon for a total of 88.4 miles. Come with me--camp, run, eat, drink, sleep, repeat.