I've already written here about my preparation, anticipation and excitement that I was experiencing leading up to my first chance of running the Zane Grey 50. As such, I won't rehash all of that now. Instead, I'll tell you a story. It's about being prepared, about being excited, and about maintaining the ability to keep the long-view in perspective when things fall apart. I didn't get into this extraordinary world of ultrarunning because it was something easy to do, nor did I pursue it because it was something hard to do. I do this, because I truly love this sport. The individual challenges, the self-sufficiency, the race day friendships and the lifelong community, these are all reasons why I continue to be a part of the ultrarunning world. Sometimes things in this world go according to plan, other times they do not. This is my Zane Grey 50 2016 story.
Friday was a day full of nervous energy and excitement. I had already packed all of my drop bags, organized my running kit, made food, cleaned the kitchen, raked the yard, loaded everything into the jeep, listened to KEXP, cleaned and processed mulberries for a pie filling, made a double batch of pie crust, cleaned the kitchen some more, swept the whole cabin, watched the squirrels and stellar jays, finished a book, watched a bad movie...all just attempting to pass the time more quickly before it was reasonable to head down the rim and into Payson for the packet pick-up and meeting up with my TTR friend. The minutes seemed to take forever to pass, the anticipation was almost comical. This race has been on my running wish list for years, and here it was, just a day away, I really couldn't have been more ecstatic.
Finally three in the afternoon rolled around and it was an acceptable time to head down to Payson. I ran a couple errands in town and then headed to the Quality Inn where the packet pick-up and check-in was set up. Immediately upon arriving I saw familiar faces. While I have certainly enjoyed (and still plan to enjoy) my time out in New England and Vermont, and while I have met some pretty fantastic folks out there in the running community, I'm biased. Nothing seems to compare to my Arizona running family. Replete with adoptive siblings, first cousins, second cousins, neighbors...every level of acquaintance seems to be covered within this group of people. I finally was able to officially meet Joe, the RD, who I'd been communicating with via e-mail to coordinate the course marking and such. And of course, that fantastic e-mail when he let me know I had made the lottery for this year's race. It was nice to finally put a face to the e-mails and to realize that I had certainly seen him around at other running events. I signed my life away on a waiver, and in exchange received a bag with a race number, a shirt, and some other random goodies. And then the hurry up and wait game continued. I had no idea what time my friend Mike Duer, a really rad human being and fantastic runner from the old TTR group, was planning to show up to the pick-up. He was not running, but he was bringing some TTR runners with him, two of whom were racing. (Spolier: One of them, Charlie Ware, would go on to win the race) While waiting around Michel Carson, another spectacular Arizona runner, was working on a video project for the race and was interviewing some of the bigger names and folks who had been involved in maintaining the trail and such. I was both surprised and flattered when he asked me if I'd answer some questions about my connection to the race and the Arizona trails community. It was fun and helped to pass the time, because as we were wrapping things up Mike and crew rolled in.
signing my life away...
My official race bib
Everyone checked in and race packets in tow we headed to the local Italian spot to do some pre-race eating. We were joined by Pam and Gary, two more TTR folks. Stories were swapped about past race experiences, strategies were discussed for how to approach the race, catching up on life, the standard sort of pre-race/we haven't seen one another in years kind of conversations! I was happy to hear other perspectives about the race course, and to feel encouraged about my strategy. Unlike some of my running pals, I am not super speedy. Honestly, how I ended up with so many wicked fast friends is kind of beyond me. Anyhow, I knew that my experience of the Zane Grey for this year was largely going to be chasing cut-offs. Best I could tell, I would manage to come in to each aid station about 30 minutes before the hard cut-off. I was totally satisfied with this, because I knew I could make it work without being super stressed out. As I've mentioned in previous posts, my training has been decent, but has had some derailments, due to medical mysteries and travelling and such. The other piece of that medical mystery and inconsistency is that, in the process I have gotten even further from my racing weight, and this has been a really frustrating struggle. I'm in decent ultra running shape, but I'm not in my ideal running shape/weight, and I'm working really hard to try and get back to that. I knew it would be a moderate factor in my race day, and I planned for it, but I don't want it to be a constant factor. Perhaps that's subject for a whole other post, I'll leave it at that.
Runners checking in before 4:45
Dinner done and everyone ready to head back to the cabin and get all the last minute race prep taken care of, we piled in Mike's car and headed to his place for the night. We made one last stop at the grocery store to get a jar of pickles for Charlie. If you don't think pickle juice is an amazing electrolyte balancer, look at Charlie's race results and refute that. Yup. I had already pretty well organized everything. I gave my drop bags one last glance, laid out my running kit for the morning, set my alarm for 3:03 am and somehow managed to fall asleep pretty quickly. Before I knew it it was time to get up, get dressed, and get ready to roll out to the race start. All runners had to check in no later than 4:45 am and the race started at 5. The morning was a little chilly, but not terrible. Once we got to the start area I quickly got into the short line for the pit toilet to take care of business, and then checked in with Joe and the support crew, and waited around for 5am. Last minute announcements were made on a bullhorn that I heard bits and pieces of. The fast folks moved towards the front of the trailhead and I milled around towards the back. I knew what my pacing was going to look like, and I planned to run my own race, so no need to get in the way of the speedy folks. Soon enough the countdown began, and then we were off into the approaching dawn.
counting down to race start
Headlamps aglow, off we go
Sun just starting to rise and bring some color to the sky
In addition to the community of runners, another reason I love this sport so much is the time I get to spend out on the trails. Back in 2009 I spent some time working out in this area, and even on the Highline trail, and it was just as gorgeous and breathtaking as I had remembered. It was not, however, as steep as I had remembered! Some more recent work added some swtichbacks to deal with erosion issues on the trail, and as a result the first climb was a lot more gradual than I had expected. This gave me more time to take in the sunrise, to listen to the coyotes howl in the distance, to think about all the challenges ahead of me in the days race, to stay focused, and to trip pretty spectacularly over a fallen tree. It was somewhere around 4 miles in, so the way I saw it, I was just getting the standard trail blood donation out of the way early. I quickly got up, dusted myself off and kept moving. My left leg and knee was a bit scratched up and swollen, but I was still mobile and that was all that mattered. The rocks that had been promised in the race description did not disappoint, there were many and it made for an increased level of focus, which I really enjoyed. As the sun continued to rise I was able to switch off my headlamp and continue to make my way along the Highline trail and towards the first aid station at Geronimo. The hard cut-off for that leg was 7:30, and I was hoping to get there around 7:00.
This. This is why I do this.
Blood donation, sometimes you have to give more to
appease the trail gods.
7:02am, I found myself at Geronimo, and was really stoked at how good I was feeling, especially in spite of the fall. Pam and Gary were volunteering there and it was nice to see them briefly. I grabbed a potato with salt and an orange slice, filled up my water, and kept moving. The next time cut-off was to be at the Washington Park aid station by 10 am, and that was about 9.5 miles away, with about 1,000ft of elevation to gain. At this point there were a handful of runners behind me, and three that had been in visual range in front of me. Due to the twists and turns of the trails, and their leaving the aid station just before me, I lost sight of the three runners ahead. I sipped on my water and kept moving.
This is beautiful, and there are rocks.
The climbing started pretty quickly out of the aid station, and I tried to focus on running up the 'flatter' spots and power hiking the steeper sections. It seemed to me that the trail was pretty wide in that section, more like an old jeep road, but that was about all the thought I put into it. I was feeling good, and I simply continued with my forward progress. A small red-tailed hawk flew across the trail in front of me and there was nothing I could do to stop the goofy grin from encompassing my entire face. This. This is why I do this. For these moments.Down the trail? Surely it was too soon to be on a descent. I knew the profile had some short sections of down amidst the climbs, but I was hauling down this trail. About a quarter of a mile into it I ran into another runner, going the opposite direction. He looked at me and said 'Am I going the wrong way?' My brain just wasn't thinking, at least not about more than 'I need to keep moving to make the next cut-off' so, I shrugged my shoulders, said 'I don't know man, I just saw some flagging right there' and kept going. (If this were a movie, there would be some dramatic, foreboding music in the background of this scene)
I could hear the voices of the people behind me in the distance, so I just kept moving and let the concern that I was on a road and not a trail go out of my mind. After a mile or so, I came to a plateau and looked around me to find one of the orange and black polka dot pieces of flagging to be sure I was heading the right way. I spotted one, and ran towards it, and hung a right down the trail.
Although the descent did give me pause, I didn't pause long and just kept moving. I kept seeing trail markers, and I had certainly not been on this trail, so surely I was going the right way. Surely. Are you getting where this is going? I continued to descend. And I hauled on that descent, trying to create any sort of time cushion with my pace before hitting the next climb, which I knew must be just around the corner. And then it happened. I ran into someone else on the trail. And this someone was Pam. Pam, from TTR, from the aid station, Pam, the sweep. Generally when I randomly run into people I know on a trail or in a race, I say hullo with a smile and maybe even a hug or a high five. I did not say hullo when I saw Pam. I dropped an F-bomb, and some other colorful words, but I did not say hullo. "Whoa, Scout, what happened, are you alright?" - this was Pam's greeting. 'I'm going the wrong way, aren't I?' More colorful language. I looked at my watch, it had been a little over one and a quarter miles since I had started the descent. I couldn't believe it. I turned around and started back up the trail, Pam right behind me. I tried so hard in that moment to hold onto my mental game, to find the strength inside me to just shrug my shoulders, haul ass up that hill, and hope that I somehow still made it under that 10am cutoff, in spite of the additional 3 miles I'd added to that leg. I tried to do all those things, but I did not succeed. Right there, I lost the mental game. Defeated does not quite encompass how I felt. I was frustrated, I was upset with myself for not paying better attention, annoyed for not having taken the time to ask a couple questions of the guy I had run into in order to have made it a half mile deviation rather than three miles. Mostly, I was just disappointed with myself. I had made an error, and I was pretty certain that error was going to cost me the race.
Less concerned with the seconds added by taking a
picture, this one is less blurry, because I stopped to take it
Enjoying the scenery. This place
just feels like home.
My pace going back up that hill could at times have been described as a crawl. I even had a couple moments of stepping off the trail and sitting on a rock. I kept looking at my watch. 10am was getting closer, and
I didn't feel like I was getting close enough to Washington Park. The first couple miles Pam was great and kept trying to keep me positive. She told me it was okay to cuss about it and I had to laugh, because I had been, but apparently not loud enough for her to hear. We talked about the time cut off, making it to Washington Park in time, and whether or not it could happen. There was still a small chance, and then my mental game just couldn't shift. We made our way along the trail, slowly. Pam and I got to know each other, we talked about running, and life and all things between, we also walked in silence at times. My knee was getting pretty stiff with the decreased pace, and while I tried to pick it up, especially on the downhills, I kept getting hit with waves of nausea and having to slow down. Man, I had done an incredible job psyching myself out. Finally, 45 minutes too late, we had made it to the Washington Park aid station. My watch should have read 17.8 miles, instead my watch read 21.
Thanks Pam, I couldn't have asked for better company!
What a detour. I checked out with the radio relay service folks and was officially dropped from the race. I was able to have a brief reunion with Renee and Dallas, two more TTR folks who had been working the Washington Park aid station and were getting ready to head back to Tucson. Gary was also there waiting for Pam, and fortunately they were able to give me a ride over to the Fish Hatchery aid station, where my folks could pick me up.
This could be the part where I wrap up the re-cap. My race was over, time to go home and call it a day, right? Well, I got to Fish Hatchery, saw some more familiar faces, had to recount what exactly I was doing there/why I wasn't running any more. My folks showed up and we drove back to our cabin, I told them how my race had fallen apart, and how while Pam and I were making our way back over to Washington Park, that we had talked about how she was going to be sweeping the last section of the course from See Canyon to the finish, and that she was going to be doing it by herself. So at one point, I suggested to Pam that I would come back and sweep it with her. After all, my legs had planned for 53 miles, so it was nothing to add another 7 and change to my 21. If anything, it would make me feel better about how the day had panned out. My folks were supportive, and just a little bit surprised. I had told Pam that if I didn't show up at the See Canyon aid station by 6:15, that meant I wouldn't be there to sweep with her. Remember, the race started at 5am, I dropped at 10:45, my parents swooped me up at the Fish Hatchery around noon, we were back at our cabin by 12:30...there was still so much time left in the day! So the wrapping up doesn't quite end there, because I still wanted to be a part of this race. I took a shower, cleaned up my leg, put on fresh clothes, made some food, and waited for my folks to return from their lunch. When they got back, we visited with a couple of our neighbors, and my Mom could tell I was ready to go. We coordinated cars and figured out how to leave one at the finish for me to drive back after the race, and also to drop me off at the See Canyon aid station. I got there around 2:30 or 3 and quickly jumped into helping out at the aid station. I just can't help myself. If I'm not running, I tend to volunteer. I knew that the folks at See Canyon, Erin and Rich McKnight, had been at Geronimo, so it had been a long day of volunteering for them. I was happy to help in any way, and they were more than accommodating, letting me help with filling water bottles and the like. It was great to be there and to feel useful. It was also really nice to get to see some familiar runners and cheer them on.
6:45 rolled around and the hard cut-off was in play. The last few runners that made their way to See Canyon in time had gone through, and now it was time for Pam and I to sweep the course. I was happy to start moving again and making our way up the trail. Also, it was kind of comical to me that I was sweeping the same section of the course that my dad and I had marked the weekend before. The weather continued to be gorgeous, as it had been throughout the day. Never too hot, although the wind did get a little gusty at times. We made our way up the trail as the sun started to set. We talked some more and continued to get to know one another. As I had told Pam earlier in the day, while I couldn't have said I was glad to see her when I ran into her in the morning, I was still quite glad that it was her. So Pam, if you're reading this, thanks for making a difficult situation easier to deal with, and thanks for being a lovely person to pass the time with on the trails. We worked our way up, we took down the trail markings, we had a system down of Pam collecting the ribbons and me gathering the reflectors and putting them in a separate bag. We had it dialed. Night fell and our pace slowed a bit as we climbed up the rim. With about one mile left we caught up to the last runner and her pacer, and we swept them in, crossing the line around 9:30p.m.
So, Zane Grey, you won this year. You took me out. You are a tough race, and I know that for some runners, as Pam pointed out, you have become their Achilles heel. Well, you won't be mine. I will do what is necessary to be faster in the future, I will win the race weight battle and get back to where I need to be, I will put in the miles, do the speedwork, and get to a place where time cut-offs will have more padding for the moments where I don't pay attention and add bonus miles. This will, hopefully, not be the last report I write about Zane Grey. It will, hopefully, be the last report about a DNF at Zane Grey.
But I will say, that the Mulberry pie I made was delicious.
Thanks to everyone who volunteered and helped to make this race happen. It was truly extraordinary.
Next up, the Vermont 100 in July. I'm still raising money for that one, so if you can, help me reach my goal, every little bit helps! Please feel free to share my fundraising link (it's right here) with any generous, philanthropic human you know!! I need to raise at least $1000 before race day!
I'm up on the Mogollon Rim, enjoying the quiet and gearing up for my first chance to run the Zane Grey 50mile trail race this Saturday. However, getting here was a bit more of an adventure than I had planned, but such is life. Here's my attempt to fill in the gaps.
Last I wrote I was still in Vermont, training was going well, and I was gearing up to leave Burlington for the majority of the summer. I was also waiting to get my MRI results back to see if there were any answers to the weirdness I'd started to experience in November. The results came in and the initial e-mail I got back from my doc was "Your MRI is essentially normal, we'll talk about it on Friday." At this, I had to laugh. 'Normal' was the worst possible word that could be used to describe me in my not-so-humble teenage years. I made my own t-shirts, including one that said 'Why be Normal?' on it. Yeah, I was that kid. Needless to say, I found it pretty hilarious that my MRI was being described as 'essentially normal,' like, normal with an asterisk. What did that mean? I told myself that I didn't need to worry about it, because if it were something alarming, they'd have had me come in earlier. Turns out that essentially normal for my brain translates to there being some increased flair signals within my corpus callosum. Other bonuses, they found some arthritis in my cervical spine, but nothing to worry about. Being a geek, which I am, I of course had to look up all the random things connected to weirdness with ones corpus callosum...the one most spectacular thing I found was alien hand syndrome. Yeah. I don't have it, nor do I expect to develop it, but folks with severe irregularities within their corpus callosum can develop it, and I think it is fascinating. Take home for me though, I'm good to go, I'm essentially normal, and I don't have to think about any of this stuff for another 4 or so months when I get to have another 3 hour MRI! I am stoked, to say the least.
Training continued to move along pretty well. The weather occasionally cooperated, but there were lots of very cold and semi-wet days, which was starting to bum me out. Fortunately, just as the sap was starting to flow and sugaring season was upon us, we had one glorious weekend of sunny, warmish weather and I managed to combine a long-run with my first sugar-on-snow experience. I had no idea what sugar on snow was, much to the chagrin of my pal Jacsen. He insisted I must come to know this Vermont tradition first hand. I was more than happy to make the journey to an old sugar shack, essentially using it as an aid station halfway through a 22mile out and back run. This, my friends, is sugar on snow:
A view from the run to Palmer's
Est. 1867!!
This is the sap being boiled inside the sugar shack
Sugar on snow= shaved ice, with hot,
dark grade D maple poured over it,
served with a pickle and a donut. In order
to be able to have the full experience,
I ran with my own donut that I could eat.
A very satisfied sugar on snow customer. Also, wearing a tank top and sleeves at 50degrees, does this mean I'm becoming a Vermonter?
Fueled by sugar on snow, I made my way out of Vermont. I packed up my things, loaded up my truck, and started to head West. My first stop was in Morrisville, NY, where I taught a workskills session for the SCA Excelsior Corps program. I led the timber station again, and while I love working with rough timber and showing all the things that can be done with it, the projects are often quite large, where there is no chance that they'll be completed in a week of me teaching people for the first time how to work with these materials. Knowing that I have my own expectations, and can be satisfied with the knowledge relayed. Whether or not the participants enjoy it so much, hard to say. Regardless, here are a few pics from the start of a large Adirondack Lean-to shelter, built with locally harvested Hemlock.
headed back from the worksite
some tools of the trade
Starting to peel the Hemlock
The beauty of a draw knife
Peeling it just like a banana.
Getting the foundation started.
The week of Workskills came to an end and I began the big drive across the country to Arizona. I had figured I'd get it done in 3 or 4 days, with a couple visits with friends along the way. I had dropped some money into my little 1981 VW Caddy truck in order to prepare Chuck (my truck) for the journey. Sadly, Chuck did not get the memo that he had just been spoiled, and decided to freak out with some serious front end/suspension issues smack dab in the middle of the drive, around the Indiana/Illinois border. The whole ordeal was a but Buster Keaton-esque. While driving through some construction outside of Indianapolis, something felt weird and I was worried that I'd gotten a flat or something. Pulled off the interstate, checked it out, everything seemed fine, got back on the interstate. Once I got up past 45 or so mph, Chuck got mad. Not wanting to make a bad situation worse, I got off the interstate, found a tire shop, and had them rebalance the wheels, check things out. After this was done, all seemed well, but I had lost too much daylight, so I chose to call it a day and stayed the night in Plainfield, Indiana. I woke up wicked early, as usual, and hit the road around 6:30am. Plainefield, Indiana is 64.3 miles, via I-70, from Terre Haute, Indiana. Here comes Buster Keaton. First 10 minutes of the drive, nothing to write home about, all seemed fine. Then, Chuck doth protest. The shaking started again and I had to slow it down and ride on the shoulder of the Interstate, rolling along at about 35mph, grateful that it was a Sunday, but annoyed that it was about 6 miles to the next exit. Eventually I made it off the Interstate, checked my road atlas, and created a plan for how to (slowly) get to Terre Haute, which seemed like the next largest town, where I'd be most likely to find some help. I was making progress, about 35mph at a time, and was feeling slightly less stressed about the situation, because I was pretty sure I could make it to my new destination, albeit slowly. I couldn't figure anything out until I got there, so I just focused on the task at hand. Then came the sheriff road block in the middle of my path. Why the road was blocked, I do not know, but this road block sent me off on another detour, that would have me winding through county roads, passing through some really beautiful scenery, which I tried very hard to appreciate. I finally made it to Terre Haute, and inquired at the U-Haul there about renting a small truck which I could attach an auto-hauler to, to get Chuck to Arizona with me. The smallest truck he had was a 20' box truck, and he didn't have any auto haulers...so he called a guy in Brazil. (Brazil, Indiana) I was told that the guy in Brazil could help me out, so I slowly drove the 15 miles East to Brazil. Short version, the guy in Brazil also didn't have any trucks smaller than a 20' available that day, plus he crunched the numbers and the whole deal, even with a smaller truck, would cost upwards of $1700. What? Nope. Nope. Not an option. Okay, it's Sunday. Many places are closed. How am I going to problem solve this? I get back in the truck, drive back to Terre Haute, and wait for Enterprise rental car to open. They open at noon, all of this has happened before 11:00 a.m. I make arrangements with Todd, the stellar dude at the U-Haul, to leave my truck in his lot and either sell it or remove it from there within the month. Once Enterprise opened I rented a little car, shoved all my stuff in it, and drove to Tulsa, Oklahoma. It was an insane day. On a mission to get the rental car returned as quickly as possible, I drove from Tulsa to Flagstaff on Monday, and returned the car to the Enterprise in Goodyear, AZ when they opened at 9am on Tuesday. All I can say is, ultrarunning has helped me manage this sort of insane cross country driving, thinking under stressful situations, and keeping a positive attitude. I am very glad for that, and extremely grateful that no-one was hurt in the process.
RIP Chuck, the Caddy Truck.
Once back to my desert roots, I quickly hit the trails. I had a couple nice days out in the Estrella Mountains while I was down in the Valley, and the rest of my runs have been up here in the pines and aspen of the Mogollon. (For those of you who don't know, it's pronounce Muggy-own) Running gave me time to think, to strategize, and to figure out how exactly I was going to deal with the truck debacle. I posted it up for sale on a few VW forums, and managed to find a buyer. To say I took a loss on it would be the understatement of the month, but I didn't have to travel back there to retrieve it or deal with, so all said and done, I was sad to see Chuck go, but happy to wash my hands of it all. The bigger bummer was that I had been hoping to eventually sell Chuck in order to have money to put down on a Sprinter or Transit that I could convert into a vehicle I could live out of, but those dreams will just have to wait for a later date. So it goes, now I'm just trying to find something I can afford and can partially live out of for the summer. Someday, my vagabond dream of travelling the country to different job contracts and trail races and adventures will be a reality! I know it will!
Enjoyng the Estrella's
Spotted some Saguaro blossoms
Loving the pines above the Mogollon
Perfect place to end a run, at Willow Springs Lake
While in the Valley, I managed to have two nights of really spectacular music. The first show was my friend's new project, called CORANO. The music was solid, definitely could hear the remnants of their old project, but it wasn't so full of reminiscing that you missed the new components. I'll have to admit though, I think that one of the best parts of the show was the fact that it was at a venue that has a new name and a new owner, but was where we all went in high school to see shows. Now it's called the Rebel. Back in the day it was called the Mason Jar. In the Mason Jar days, they would have shows from 5:30-7:30 or 8 for the high school bands, and then they'd kick us out and the big kid shows would start around 8:30. So here we were, in a new-old space. Now the stage is on the South end of the building, when we were kids it was on the North end. In high school I had constantly had my slr camera around my neck, taking photo after photo of my friends and their bands. Now I found myself snapping subpar photos with my phone, but still happy to document. Oh, how far we've come.
Old friends, new music.
CORANO
The second show I went to was the Savages. Wow. I don't even know what to say. I was about 2 and a half people away from the stage for the whole show. Their energy was out of this world, they rocked hard, and I danced the whole time. It was incredible. I held Jehnny Beth up with many others as she crowd surfed above us. I had a stupid grin on my face pretty much the whole show because it was just that good. Knowing that I would be up North at the rim during Record Store day, I preemptively participated by purchasing their latest LP Adore Life, to add to my Savages record collection. I hoped that going to this show would help to get many of their songs and much of their raw energy infused into my body, brain and soul so that I might call upon it this weekend in the challenging parts of my race. Thanks Savages, for an extraordinary night!!
Calm before the storm
Everyone a silhouette
Jehnny Beth crowdsurfing
The curtain call, all four take a bow.
Getting ready for the race, this week, mostly translates to making sure I stay well hydrated, making the right food choices, getting my drop bags organized, a few short little shake out runs, enjoying the quiet of the woods, and watching lots of NHL playoff hockey. Getting the race ready for myself and others included marking the last leg of the course this past weekend with my Dad. Our morning began with an inch of snow on the ground at our place, but we knew once the sun came out it would quickly burn off. The elevation difference between our spot and the highest point of the race is about 1200 feet, and we figured there would pry not be any snow on the course. We had a really nice time hiking our way up the rim from See Canyon to the 260 trailhead. The creek crossing at the See Canyon trailhead was flowing, but we found an easy point to cross. It stayed cold throughout the day, it even snowed on us a little bit, though nothing stuck. I hadn't been on that section of the trail since the last time I had swept the course back in 2012(?, i think) it's since had a re-route, and what I had remembered to be a long 6 miles was actually a long 7 miles. I'm very glad to know that now, so that it won't psyche me out at the end of my race this weekend. Ultimately, I'm feeling ready for the Zane Grey, I'm looking forward to running through familiar territory, on some trail sections I worked on years ago, and amongst some familiar faces, particularly old friends from the TTR group. Thanks as always for reading, look for a Zane Grey race report sometime after next weekend. And then my focus will shift on more miles and long runs gearing up for the Vermont100 in July!! (For which I am still raising money, please share this link with ANYONE, and no donation is too small, every $1 counts, big time.)
Snow on trail marking morning
Where I'll be spending my day next Saturday!!
Our starting point for trail marking
My dad, with his specialized trail marker transport system.
A beautiful spot just off the trail, about
halfway up
Can't wait to get here next week!
Songs I hope to have stuck in my head throughout the race next week:
But I will say, that the Mulberry pie I made was delicious.
