A very well planned run...

The Disclaimer: Mom, you might not want to read this, because sometimes I push the limits, and I know that worries you from time to time. This was one of those limit pushing adventures,  just skip to the end, and know that ultimately it all worked out.

My solo Mt. Bigelow Ascent/Descent run actually started on Monday night. I put together a drop bag with extra food and snacks, a coconut water and an entire gallon of water to leave up at the top of Palisades trail at the Palisades visitor center. You see, things were already off to a great, well planned start. Dawn and I drove up the Hitchcock Highway,winding our way out of Tucson and into the cool air of the Santa Catalina pines. Aside from my drop bag goodies I had also gathered a picnic dinner spread, which I looked forward to eating under the stars. By the time we got up to Palisades it was nearly dark, the visitor center was closed, and I needed to figure a bear proof place to keep my drop bag over night. Well, the pit toilets across the highway must have been serviced relatively recently, as they didn't smell too horrible, and were clean. Making sure the door shut tight, I left my drop bag in there with a duct-taped note with my contact information and estimated arrival time. Such planning, such foresight...I must be a logistics coordinator or something. It was pretty chilly at Palisades, so we drove down the highway a bit, found a nice vista and had our picnic. We made it pretty short, as I wanted to get back into town, back home, and to sleep. So far, so good.
I got home, laid out my clothes for the morning. Put a bag of clothes to change into after the run together, filled my water bottles and water bladder, got my breakfast together, double checked the contents of my Nathan pack, set my alarm, and went to sleep.

Good thing I'm an early riser

I had set my alarm for 4:03 a.m. Or so I thought. I woke up and my bedroom seemed lighter than it should be, especially since I had yet to hear my alarm. I checked the time and it was 5:08 a.m. I checked my alarm...did I hit snooze or dismiss in my sleep? What had happened...oh, it was set for 4:03 p.m. Dumb luck. I was hoping to be on the trail by 5:15, since I knew it was forecast to be a hot day, but I figured I could still make it onto the trail no later than 6:45, thanks to my early rising tendencies and pre-planning. I threw on my clothes, grabbed my gear and my breakfast and jumped into the Sami.
I made it to the Sabino Canyon visitors center around 6:20, bought a year-round pass, and got ready to roll. I used the bathroom, double checked my water/food situation, looked good. I had 1L in my bladder, and two 16oz. handhelds. The weather was starting out perfect; a little breezy and relatively cool, probably in the low 60s. I wanted to keep a good pace on the Bear Canyon trail section of my run so as to start my climb into higher/cooler elevation as the day started to heat up. I figured it shouldn't take me much more than 4.5-5hours to get up to Palisades where I could load back up on food and water, and then head back down.

Sign from the Sabino Canyon Visitors Center

Start of Bear Canyon trail

Running through the canyon
The weather was perfect. The sun still had yet to make its way over the canyon walls and in some places I was actually a bit chilly. I was moving along at a decent pace, not pushing it too hard, but not loafing around. My legs felt good, my feet were finding the trail without too much difficulty, and scrambling over rocks and creekbeds were just making it all a fantastic trail experience.

Nearing Seven Falls

The snowfall from a few weeks ago that the TTRs doing this run had to deal with led to some residual water in the creeks leading up to Seven Falls. It was gorgeous. Still, all going good.
I made it to the Bear Canyon and East Fork trail junction in good time, I think I was a little more than 2 hours into it. I was starting to get a little hungry, but not ravenous, I figured I'd use the Palisades/East Fork trail junction as a goal, and kept trucking along. The nice bit about that section on East Fork is that a lot of it is downhill, even if it is just a teaser prior to the 2500+feet of climb awaiting you on Palisades. I took it for what it was worth, and just flew along the trail. I was in my element, and having a great day. I rounded a corner and could see the trail junction. Maybe 1/4 of a mile away, I could almost taste my blueberry fruition bar, I had just drained the last of my water from my Nathan pack bladder, but still had both of my handhelds. Looking good.

And then the trail gods smote me down.

Maybe I was feeling a little too good about my planning and how my run was coming along. I certainly would not categorize my mental state as cocky, but apparently the Pusch Ridge Wilderness felt the need to take me down a notch, and boy did it ever.
The trail junction in site, something caught my foot and I went flying. We're talking reminiscent of superman here folks, it was incredible. (Once again, thank the universe for handheld waterbottles!) One thing I've learned in trail running is how to fall, and how to minimize potential damage. Arms out, palms (waterbottles) down, elbows not locked...and I hit the ground.
SPLOOSH!!!!! My fall was so wonderfully spectacular that the force of my impact, which was largely absorbed by my two handheld water bottles, then subsequently led to the vast majority of my water bursting out of said bottles. Okay. Get to the junction, sit down, eat some food, take stock of things, decide what to do.

Oh, how I wish I had been more excited to see this sign.

Taking Stock.

Sitting down on the side of the trail, I was surprised to see the lack of damage to my body from the fall. Nothing to write home about, some dirt, a possible bruise or two, no blood, no bones...good stuff. My shoulders felt a bit tense from taking in the impact of the fall, but nothing a few shrugs wouldn't take care of. I grabbed my fruition bar and did my best not to inhale it, my body was ready for some calories. Then I looked at my water bottles.
The force of the fall and the SPLOOSH! was greater than I had realized. I sat there, looking at the remaining inch or so of water that I had in each bottle and tried to figure out what exactly I should do. Behind me, I had about 10 miles through an increasingly hot canyon, or what should have been (according to my calculations) about 6 miles of vertical climbing, but into cooler weather. What to do.
This is that space in which you try and make what you feel will be the best and safest decision for your day. I knew I had food and water stashed up at Palisades. I knew that much. I didn't have anything back at the Sabino Canyon visitor center, but the Sami was there, and I could then drive that up to Palisades and pick up my stuff. This would also involve resigning to cutting my run short, and coming back to it another day.
Well, I'm not much of one for cutting things short if it doesn't seem necessary. My logic went kind of like this:

• I had already drank slightly more than a liter of water, I had hydrated really well the 2 days leading up this run, and I was feeling good
• I still had water in both of my bottles, and though it wasn't much, I thought surely it would be enough to ration on my way up to the top
• I was really looking forward to completing this entire run, and was extremely reluctant to bail on it in any way
• It was cooler on the way up, therefore requiring less water
• I would be doing more hiking on the way up, as opposed to running, and therefore requiring less water
• Though I may not always like to admit it, sometimes it just comes down the fact that I have a stubborn streak

So, I decided to head up to Palisades. I knew I could pretty much kiss my goal time goodbye, but that was fine by me. I figured if I just went along, slow and steady, I'd get up to the top, rest, refuel, rehydrate and return back the way I had come.

Silly, silly, Scout.

Somewhere, about a mile or two from my decision at the start of the Palisades trail, my day started to fall apart. The inch or so of water that was left in each of my handhelds was looking to be less sufficient. It was windy and my sweat was evaporating almost instantaneously. I was doing my best to hike with my mouth closed, breathing through my nose, so as to not dry out my mouth too much. I was rationing my water in small sips, and trying to stay positive. Maybe my blood sugar was low, maybe I was starting to get dehydrated, maybe I was frustrated with a well planned run throwing me for a loop...not sure what exactly it was, but I found myself going slower and slower up the trail, stopping every mile or so to sit down, which is just not my style. It felt like I was getting nowhere fast. I was trying to appreciate the beauty of the views around me, but something wasn't right. Perhaps it was just knowing that my water rations were small that my body decided to act as though it was in dire straits, I'm not sure, but my mental composure was starting to disintegrate, and it was getting more and more difficult to make positive forward progress.

A beautiful view from Palisades, almost to the Pines, Tucson far below me, but unappreciated at the time.

 
Time was dragging on. I felt myself starting to weave on the trail, and knew I just had to get through the last couple miles and up to Palisades. A new game plan could be hatched from there. My phone had made its little ping noise a few times while I was in the canyon and making my way up to Palisades, so I figured that in a worst case scenario, I could just call someone to pick me up from Palisades, assuming I made it there!
That 6 or so miles...it was actually closer to 7. It was slow. It was painful. It tested my mental mettle. When I saw the towers getting tangibly closer, and then came across this sign, I was extraordinarily relieved.

.4 miles to all my aid I had stashed at the top

Yup, that's me, the giant pink triangle right there.

Where I'd come from. What's a little elevation, eh?

The adventure is over...or so I thought.
I slowly made my way over to my stashed drop bags. They were still there, and I was glad for that. I took them across the highway to sit in the shade at the visitors center, and figured I could use their phone to call someone in case mine didn't have a signal.
Well, my phone didn't have a signal, in spite of my pleading and pointing it at the towers. Summerhaven was a mere 3 miles up the highway, but my body was done. I had definitely reached a point of dehydration, and although I gulped down my coconut water in record time, and drank about a 1/4 of my gallon of water as I snacked on an apple and some grapefruit, my body was done. I would not be running back, I may be stubborn, but I'd like to think I'm not stupid. Why not just use the phone at the visitors center? Oh, because it was still closed. Funding cuts I'd imagine. So, now what?
There was a fair amount of traffic coming up and down the highway, I figured I'd stick my thumb out to hitch a ride an hope someone would answer the call. If the car that pulled over seemed creepy, I'd just ask if they could make a phone call for me, if it seemed safe, I'd go with it.
Lots of cars went by. Some even waved. None stopped.
I was about to give up hope and a truck pulled over. A very nice older gentleman named John offered me a ride, and I accepted. I would guess he was in his 70's, he was coming into town to get some lag bolts from the Haba store in town to use on the cabin he was building up in Summerhaven. He had had two cabins up there before the fires, but both had burned. Now he had one that wasn't quite large enough for his many grandchildren and great grandchildren, so he was expanding. As we wound down the highway he asked where I was headed. I told him I was trying to get back to my vehicle at the Sabino Canyon Visitors Center. That wasn't really where he was going, but he figured he could drop me off at the base of the highway, and I could find my way from there. Being extremely grateful for the ride, and not wanting to look a gifthorse in the mouth, I offered him many thanks again, and said that would be fine.

A very long urban adventure.

While I'm sure it could potentially be very entertaining to read, I'm going to cut the adventure short here and simply say, the road that should have gone straight through didn't, after wandering in a neighborhood area that was taking me further and further away from my destination all I wanted to do was get near a bus stop or something. No one was available to pick me up, and I just wanted to get back to the Sami. One more good Samaritan later, and I got there. This time chaperoned by a former Army Special Forces officer who recognized I was in sorry shape and in need of assistance. You see, he currently contracts out to train pilots how to survive in the desert, and he could tell I was surviving, but not happy about it. My skin was exposed and getting scorched, my spirits were close to defeated, and I just wanted my adventure to be over.
Again, I left my second good Samaritan with many thanks, happily returned to the Sami and the Sabino Canyon visitors center, and took stock of things.
It was 4:45. TEN hours from when I had left it. What an adventure.

Lessons learned

• You can never have too much water in the desert. In the future, I'll fill my hydration pack up to the full 2 liters, and I'll start by drinking from my handhelds, not the pack, in the event of any unexpected and water robbing falls.
• Know  when to say when. I still stand by my decision to ascend. While turning around would have avoided the snafu of returning to my vehicle, I think it would have been much hotter, the mileage was longer, and I think it could potentially have put me in a very bad space.
• No matter how well you plan things out, something can always go wrong. Learning how to gracefully (and safely) roll with the punches can really reduce your stress levels. Stressing yourself out will do nothing more than that, and quickly take a toll on your body.
• I had done some things right: people knew where I had planned to go, I had stayed on my route, and if I hadn't found a way back, it was not a mystery as to where to look for me. ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS let someone (preferably multiple someones) know your planned route.

Okay Mom, you can start reading again

My Mt. Bigelow Ascent/Descent was cut short this go round, but next time I'll find someone to run it with me, and I'll make it happen. Though, it will likely have to wait for the fall and cooler weather. I'll be redeeming myself in the Santa Catalinas this weekend with our TTR run of the Catalina peaks. It'll be tough, but there will be aid and other folks out there with me, so I think it'll be just what I need to get my trail confidence back. Not that it was all completely lost, but there was certainly a dent put into it. I'm running tough trails, which challenges me mentally and physically, all to get me prepared for my first 100K which is fast approaching. I know that I will be ready.
 

Zane Grey Highline 50miler

If you run ultras but you haven't volunteered at one, what are you waiting for?
 Maybe its that you can't see yourself standing there, on the side of the trail, all day long resisting the urge to run after that last runner whose water bottle you filled. Maybe you're too busy, you only have the time for races when you're racing them. Maybe you don't even like the volunteers who show up, who stand by the side of the trail, all day long, feeding you boiled potatoes and refilling water bottles, offering chairs when needed and words of encouragement when you're prematurely thinking of throwing in the towel. I mean really, who needs those obnoxious people and their bizarre buffet tables of bananas and pb&js, boiled potatoes next to bowls of salt...igloos filled with cold water, deflated coke, and electrolyte drink. Why won't they just let me run miles and miles through the woods without their help?!! Oh yeah, because when I signed up for a race I knew they'd be there, and I knew that, if I hit a low point, the next aid station just might be what got me to the finish line.
So, I ask my question again: If you run ultras, but you haven't volunteered at one, what are you waiting for?
This past weekend I had the pleasure of volunteering at the Zane Grey 50miler. I was helping out at the last aid station at mile 44, and I also had the privileged to be the course sweeper. (For those who don't know what that means, no I did not take a broom to the course, this means I ran the last 6+miles into the finish behind the last runners who made the 18:30 cut off from the mile 44 aid station.)

Spending all day, on the side of the trail, resisting the urge to take off running
First and foremost, let me say, it was gorgeous. Mile 44 is right before the Christopher Creek water crossing and near the See Canyon trailhead in the Tonto National Forest. I convinced my friend Dawn to come up to the mountains with me and spend a day doing more or less nothing...other than picking me up from the 260 trailhead once the race was finished. She kindly obliged and spent much of the day around the creek, and catching a glimpse of this weird ultrarunning thing I do, and the other crazy fantastic people who do it.  Frank Cuda, the host of the Juniperwood Ranch Runs, was the Aid Station captain and a very nice guy. The first runner came through at a scorching pace, making it to our spot around 12:10p.m. Now the day had begun. The runner was Geoffrey Roes of Colorado, and he went on to an impressive first place finish of 8:13.35. Since our aid station was crew accessible, many runners had people there supporting them, which also made for a fairly large cheering section for all of the runners. There were times that the crowds made it a bit difficult for runners to see where exactly they were supposed to continue down the trail, but no one lost their way completely. If anything, they may have passed through with just a little more fanfare than expected.
It was a pretty hot day, even up in the mountains, and many runners suffered as a result. Dehydration was a definite concern, but we faithfully filled water bottles, and handed out ice and encouraged runners on their way.
I knew that some of my TTR pals would be there, and even saw Renee and Dallas on the drive up to the Rim country on Friday, so as the day went on I looked forward to seeing Renee. Sure enough, she rolled into the trailhead in the afternoon, having been the crew support for Dallas back at mile 33. She said he was having a good race, that Mike was hanging on, and Sarah was looking strong as usual. When we were pretty sure Sarah should be close to coming into mile 44, I asked Renee if she remembered what Sarah was wearing. 'Oh you know, her big floppy hat and some orange shorts.' One of the other great aspects of the mile 44 aid station was that you could see runners up on the ridge before they zig-zagged their way down the trail to our set-up. Sure enough, before long, there was a floppy hat and some orange shorts. 'GO SARAH!!!' Renee, Christy (Mike's wife, sorry if I'm spelling your name wrong!) and I started cheering for Sarah. When she made it down I offered to refill water bottles and get anything from the food table if she wanted it. She thanked us all for being out there and joked that if she was so recognizable from a distance she must really look ridiculous. Not ridiculous Sarah, just awesome! Once again she turned in an impressive performance and finished 3rd overall female for the race, in 11:42.47. (If you'll recall, I first met/wrote about Sarah at my Pemberton race, and I said she looked fast...I was right.)
Mike made his way into the aid station a bit after Sarah, he shook his head and said he was done. This race is burly. I can tell you that much. Mike's the other 'fast looking' guy (who was also fast!) that I met at Pemberton, but between the heat, the terrain and the distance, it was just too much for one day. Still, a super impressive performance, this was the furthest Mike had ever ran, so a huge congrats to Mike for testing himself on a gnarly stretch of trail. 
Okay, something happened here and the computer deleted all I had written about Dallas. I'm not sure why. I will simply say that he came running down the trail all smiles, and he left the aid station smiling. He had a great race and a strong finish of 13:11.50. Dallas, I'm sorry man. I wrote more about how awesome you are, but it was eaten by technology.

And now, we wait.
The moderate disadvantage to having fast friends is that, when you're crewing an aid station and waiting for the last runner to come through the aid station, you might not know that many folks. I was starting to get antsy. I'd been at the same spot since 10:30a.m. and I knew I wouldn't be leaving it until sometime after 6:30. Runners came through in fits and bursts. Water bottles were filled, chairs were provided to tired bodies deciding whether or not they could go on. As 18:30 grew closer and closer, family and friends waiting for runners grew anxious and worried, wondering if their runner would make the cut-off. And why are their cut-offs, you might wonder? Ultimately, it comes down to safety. Although there are days when you're running real close to them and you might find them arbitrary and cruel, they do serve a real purpose.

18:15, how many more will make the cut-off?
Somewhere between 1800 and 1815 a familiar bright pair of shorts came down the trail and I was excited to see Karl Groll, a runner from Tucson whom I'd met at the Old Pueblo. We finished the OP about 10 minutes apart from one another, and I was glad to see that he was still running strong. We chatted a bit, he told me of how he was nearly convinced to drop the race before mile 33, but how another runner had convinced him not to drop, and he was glad he'd kept on going. I was glad to not see him on the trail later as I swept it, so I knew he had finished. He kept putting one foot in front of the other and finished in 15:24.00. Nice job!

And the cut-off grew closer and closer... the last runner through the cut-off, Nancy Farries, looked worried about how close she had cut it, but ready to go on. She had friends there to crew for her and they looked worried about Nancy not having time to refill her water bottles, having just come in at the cut-off and the Amateur Radio Relay guys looking tough and enforcing the cut-off. I grabbed her water bottle, asked her if there was anything else she needed and went to get it from the aid table. Her friends looked at me, a bit worried, I think afraid that I was breaking rules. I broke it down for them this way: 'Look, I'm the sweep, the last thing I want your friend to do is go out on this trail unprepared, get herself in a bad way, and then have a dangerous situation on my hands. We have time to refill her bottles, she's past the cut-off, I'll vouch for that, and I want her to finish strong and safe.'
They looked relieved, and sent their friend on her way. It wasn't until she was out of site that I asked her friends what her name was, in case I ended up on the trail with her, I wanted to know her name. They thanked me again, told me her name was Nancy, and I told them we'd see them at the finish.

FINALLY!!! I get to run! (well, sort of...)
I didn't leave right at 1830 because, secretly, I did want to get to run a bit. I knew the first 2 miles out of the aid station were tough and climbing, so I wasn't expecting to fly through it, but I needed to get my blood moving. I double checked that I had everything; headlamp, first aid kit, water for myself, extra water, a jacket, my phone...all there. Time to go.
I headed down to the creek and crossed it with no trouble, didn't even get my feet wet. I started up the climb and could see there were two runners in front of me, one of them was Nancy, the other I had yet to meet. I hung back behind them while there was still a fair amount of daylight. I didn't want them to feel pressured by my presence, I wanted them to have their own race. As daylight continued to fade I stopped snapping pictures with my phone and made my way closer to the runners. In spite of the nearly full moon, headlamps were still necessarily turned on, and I didn't want to have either of them go off the trail on my watch. They were both going to make it safely to the finish, that was my job, and I wouldn't let them (or the Race Directors) down.
Some pictures I snapped before it was too dark: (Again, sorry for the quality, still relying on cell-phones, one of these days I'll get that fancy camera.)

Looking back along the trail towards the rim

The sun starting to set

Yellow flags mean you're on the right trail!

Still working with sunlight, stopping to strike a pose.

Looking back up the trail again, the moon starting to peek through the trees.

The moon rising.

Can you find the runner in the dark? It's Mark!

Everyone's got a story
As I said, I had been hanging back for a bit, mostly just keeping an eye on the runners and making sure they were staying on the trail. I closed the gap significantly as it got darker and we ended up in a more densely forested section. At one point my presence was obviously recognized as Mark, the runner in front of me, told me 'Just let me know if you want to pass, I'm afraid this is my fasted speed in the dark.'
'Well, I appreciate the offer, and you're moving just fine. As it is, I'm the sweep for the course, so you can take a nap in the middle of the trail right now and I still can't pass you. I'm just here to make sure you get there safely.' He chuckled at my offer of a nap and kept moving along. Its a hard thing to tell in any race if the people around you are off in their own world in a good way, or if they are hoping to have conversation. Sometimes conversation serves as the perfect distraction in an ultra, it makes the time pass more quickly and the miles seem shorter, other times it can do just the opposite. So, I followed Mark's lead and jumped into conversation here and there. The standard stuff, where are you from, what do you do, is this your first time out here, etc.
As the miles continued to pass under our feet and we continued to talk about races we'd done or aspired to do, I got a little more of Mark's story. You see, just three years ago Mark found himself in a place he didn't want to be: trapped inside the body of a 300+ pound man. Knowing he needed to do something drastic to turn his life around, he had bariatric surgery and vowed to make a real change. Not long after his recovery began, a friend told him he should participate in Pat's run, a 4.2 mile run created by Pat Tillman's family to honor their fallen son. After that, as Mark said it, he was hooked. He found more races to run, longer distances to tackle. To date he has run three 100+mile races, and a total of 167 races since his surgery. Truly, Mark is a champion. I was so impressed with his story, I knew I needed to share it here.
Ultra running, more than anything for me, is about testing your own personal mettle, pushing those limits, seeing what you can handle mentally. I write this in the midst of an insanely busy week of work, with a schedule that shows little hope of chilling out until I head to California in a month for my first 100K. And I know as I run those trails that I will meet more champions, and hear more incredible stories, and create more of my own. This is why I keep running, this is why the distances keep getting longer and this is why I volunteer whenever I can, because someone will do the same for me, the least I can do is return the favor.

HUGE Congrats to all the runners who challenged themselves this weekend with the Zane Grey Highline Trail 50 miler. Results can be seen here.

Slacking again!

I promise that when I fail to regularly write in this blog, it is simply because I am very busy doing other important things. Like, the hurry up and wait game. That's something I've been doing a lot of. Practicing patience, that's been another big one. Working a lot, as usual. And running.
Although, admittedly, the running fell a bit to the wayside for about a week there, and it was starting to drive me nuts. Every time I tell myself I'm too busy to run, it rarely takes more than a week for it to catch up with me: I feel sluggish, I feel I lose focus, I'm distracted, more irritable, and less patient...hmm, you think exercise is a productive and necessary part of my life worth making time for? Yeah, me too.

So, last weekend's TTR run through the snow (yes, SNOW!!!) was unfortunately missed. The looming potential of a government shutdown was directly affecting my job and the amount of work I found myself needing to get accomplished over the weekend. I was still hopeful up until late Saturday afternoon, as I sat in my office with a long list of things that had to get done before 6:30a.m. Monday morning. It just wasn't worth the stress, so I e-mailed Dallas and backed out of the run. I was bummed to have to do that. In an attempt to make up for the disappointment of missing out on another beautiful and fantastic TTR run,  I really stuck to my schedule of running to and from work throughout this week.
Some reasons I do this, no matter how long the day has been or has the potential to be:

An incredible sky and a red face...we may have had snow on the mountains Sunday morning, but it was 80degrees on the run home Monday!

Oh, that desert sky. In spite of genuinely missing the ocean, I do love this environment. This snapped on the run into work, Tuesday morning.

This weekend I'm looking forward to volunteering at the Zane Grey Highline Trail 50 miler. Its more or less in the backyard of the mountains I spent much of my childhood summers in. My family still has a place up on the rim, and I can't wait to spend part of the weekend kicking around the cabin with my folks. Of course, there will be some TTR's running the race, and I'm excited to be able to return the favor of an enthusiastic and supportive familiar face at the mile 44 Aid Station. Dallas and Mike are both running, along with Sarah. Dallas and Mike were incredible at the 25mile Aid Station for the OP, so I will gladly return the favor of smiles, cheers and snapping pictures. I'm excited and honored to be one of the final sweepers on the course, so I'll get to experience the beauty of the last 6 miles, and support the last runner to what I hope will be a solid finish. It is sure to be a long day, but it will be wonderful. Hopefully next year I'll be one of the race participants!

Well, that's a brief update. Other things on the horizon...I need to finish the mural out at the garden, we're having a huge Earth Day celebration out there next Friday...so, definitely a little crazy leading up to that, but I will be sure to give a full report after it happens. Also, continuing to run, of course. My first 100K is just around the corner, almost exactly a month away! And, I'm glad to say I've found a ride from the SB train station to the race with my new Ultra-running friend Tiffany. We met on the infamous ULTRAlist, and have both enjoyed each others blogs. I'm excited to meet Tiffany and her friend face to face. The BTR run is sure to be beautiful and a great time!

Hope this finds everyone well and enjoying the springtime!
Oh, nearly forgot, since it seems to be a bit of a habit of mine, sharing music that's been stuck in my head, here's this weeks installment. (Since I missed last week, I'll make it a double whammy!)

 This one a nod to last weeks budgetary difficulties. Watch out Washington, I'm going to get my sidewalk chalk!

This one just for good measure. It's music I like that keeps me moving.

Okay, one more, it's not music, but man, where was this gym when I was a kid? Props to my bro Christian for passing this one along:

Sick, sick, sick....maybe I'll try practicing by bounding and bouncing over cacti...