The Last Stage and Epilogue (epi-blog?)

So I have spent most of the last week in the South African bushveld where the elephants roam wild and the internet and cell service are endangered.  Now I am sitting at London Heathrow after an 11 hour flight from Johannesburg, waiting on a flight to Seattle and then home to Bend.  In between between leopard spotting from the Land Rover and some overindulging at meal time, I have had some time for reflection.

First off, I want to thank everyone for their comments on the blog and their kind words of support.  Really, it meant a great deal to have your good thoughts behind me.  Secondly, it appears that I have been misspelling Radmir’s name throughout my posts.  I’m sorry Radmir!  I’m sure you didn’t want to be carrying that extra vowel around.

The last stage was a roughly 5km sprint through the sand dunes and onto the beach.  The starts were staggered with the faster runners starting later, so most of us were out together on the last couple of kilometers of sand.

At the gun, Ben took off into the dunes like a rocket.  Before most of us could get our legs into a trot, Ben had a 100 meters on us.  I followed Radmir into the dunes, trying to find the best possible footing in the chopped up sand.  We ran the crest of the first dune around and then descended to the flat so we could appreciate the headwall of the area’s largest dune, which, of course, Carlos had us running straight up.  I hit the dune hard, with legs churning, but quickly ground to a controlled crawl.  But once on top I found my footing, as well as a clear view of the Atlantic Ocean, the beach and the finish line.

I caught Radmir as we left the dunes and pushed hard, trying my best to reel Ben in.  We dropped down to the Swakopmund River bed one last time and then popped up on a rocky, seaweed strewn beach.  For a few seconds, I thought I might have a chance of catching Ben at the line, but then he lit the afterburners and it was all over.

I dipped down for a few splashes in an ocean wave and then ran the gauntlet of flags once again to the finish line.  Nancy met me at the line with a huge hug and the race medal.

And, just like that, after 22 months of planning, over a thousand hours of training, and nearly 23 hours of running 240km over some of the most beautiful and unforgiving terrain in the world, the Namib Desert Race of 2021 was done.

Naturally, I am pretty happy with my result.  Having never done anything like this before, I had no expectations of how well my legs would hold up over the course of a week.  But I knew, from watching past races, that if I could run 10km an hour I would be near the front of the race.  And I was training to run back to back 4 hour days at 10km an hour over mixed terrain.  As it turned out, said pace would not have been fast enough to beat Ben, but somewhere along the way my legs came up with a little extra speed and endurance.  I finished about 20 minutes ahead of Ben for the week.  Roughly the equivalent of Usain Bolt edging Justin Gatlin in the 100 meter dash by a couple of chest hairs.  

I am grateful to Ben and Radmir and Jeff for the stiff competition.  While the Namib Desert Race of 2021 was one of the smaller races in the series, I feel that the sharp end of the race was as competitive as any.  Every stage, I was out there, trying to chase someone down.  The race was still up for grabs going into the long march, and I am thankful my legs felt good that day.

But the Namib Race, like any of the RacingThePlanet Stage Races, is about much much more than how fast a guy (or gal) can run.  Every competitor is facing down their own fears, and writing their own story of struggle and conquest.  And the the longer a competitor is out on the course, the hotter the sand gets, and the harder the struggle.  Friendships grow on the trail and in camp, camaraderie forms, and the individual becomes part of a larger body moving forward every day.  Laughter around the fire pit at night helps put to bed the aches from the day’s journey and prepare for what is coming the next morning.

One night we were huddled around a table sharing stories and a hunk of cheese that Max no longer felt like carrying (god bless you Max, it was the best taste of food I had all week).  One of the local drivers walked by and proclaimed amazement at the nationalities represented.  He said, “Look! There’s a Brit, a German, a Russian, an American, a guy from Belgium (Olivier is actually Dutch) and an Israeli (at first he said, and a Jew, but after an awkward pause, followed by Eyal’s laughter, he corrected himself).  Someone said we were practically the United Nations, and our driver uttered a few expletives about the UN and then, gesturing at our table, indicated that, “This, this here is what the world needs.”

And maybe our driver has a point.  Maybe the world’s leaders need to get together around a campfire after spending the day crossing 40 kilometers of desert on foot, with the prospect of another 40 kilometers the next day. And the next.  Then, maybe, just maybe they could focus on a unified approach to the problems human beings have brought to our little planet as opposed to their individual political agendas.  Call me a dreamer.

And I’m almost home.  Thank you for sharing this amazing journey with me.  I’m going to lay low for a few days.  Hang out in the woods with the dogs.  And figure out what comes next.

Stage 5! The Long March!

So the long march was 2 days ago, but they couldn’t get the computers up at camp yesterday.  So for the sake of the blog I will forget that I have had a shower and several beers as well as another short stage.  And I will do my best to recollect the simultaneous beauty and agony of the long march.

The sun was already peeking out of the clouds when we left on Stage 5, so it looked like it was going to be a scorcher.  A lone jackal surveilled us from the ridge as we left camp.  I took it as a good omen, that there was life in the desert, even if the jackal was probably trying to figure out if we’d be carrion anytime soon.

Frode and Liss led out again, closely followed by myself, Ben, Jeff and Mabasa.  We could see what looked like a small hazy mountain range in the distance, and we had been told that checkpoint 2 was on the peak with the tower.  But first we had to cover 10km of open desert with variable sand and some rolling hills.  As usual the landscape was breathtaking, or maybe that was just trying to keep up with the Norwegians.

Liss, Frode and Mabasa took a longer stop at checkpoint 2, so Jeff led out at a good clip.  I had taken a nature break before the checkpoint, so I trailed out.  Jeff had an agenda for the long march.  He had to make up 30 minutes on Radimir to get on the podium, so he was trying to drop Radimir early.  Radimir had not had the best night and was looking a little peaked at breakfast.  But he hung on valiantly.  The next bit took us up some gradual climbs of shiny sand to some large holes in the ground where at one time they were quarrying marble.   And then there was the long grind up the hill (mountain) to checkpoint 2.  Being a grinder, I slowly chugged up the grade and arrived at Riitta’s checkpoint out front.  Carlos had promised a jaw dropping view of the ocean, but the morning fog was still in place, so we couldn’t really see the sea.  But the view was amazing and expansive, and didn’t make me feel remotely close to my destination.

I was worried that we would have to continue higher onto the rocky trails up to communications tower, but fortunately Riitta pointed to a sandy chute descending behind her, she yelled “Be careful!”, as I passed through.  I slid down the first chute without too much difficulty, but then I passed a discarded chemical toilet, which may have been a harbinger as the rest of the descent scared the crap out of me.  For a couple of hundred meters we bounced between sand chutes and huge boulders with 10-15 foot falls if you missed the flags that Carlos had left to guide you to little ledges to navigate around the drops.

Jeff came bounding by me like the experienced mountain runner he is, followed by Ben.  Radimir caught up with me just as things leveled out into a rock pile and he gave me the thumbs up as we looked out onto the flat to see Jeff and Ben about a half km off in the distance.

Radimir and I ran off into open desert punctuated by sparse vegetation and the occasional roller.  The sand was soft enough for a little give, but solid enough to push off—ideal running for me.  Radimir gradually fell back as I tried to make up the gap with the guys in front.

By checkpoint 3, at the road crossing, after having to crawl through a meter high tunnel under the railroad tracks, I was back with Jeff and Ben.  

For the next 20 kilometers we ran over a mind blowing variety of open desert, generally gradually downhill with some rolling terrain.  We ran through soft sand, harder sand with pebbles and some compacted aggregate of small pieces of quartz that was packed to the consistency of concrete.  For a kilometer or so we ran up and down over black mounds of shale that protruded up from the sand like the back of a serpent.  The sun was blazing on us, but the wind from the Atlantic Ocean became progressively stronger, keeping us from over heating.

At checkpoint 4, Ken had a surprise for us.  A relatively cold can of Coke!  After 4 hours of tepid lemon lime electrolyte drink, the brown syrupy goodness went down like a magic elixir.  I chugged most of the can and dumped the remainder into my bottle of scratch.

After checkpoint 4 we wound our way into a river bed and some softer sand and then in and out of what I think they call a sand mine.  (I’m not sure what sand is mined for, but if you need sand, Namibia appears the place to get it.)

We came into checkpoint 5 (the “overnight” checkpoint, with hot water and a place to sleep for a few hours) just a little early for dinner.  I asked Samantha if my bath was ready, and one of her volunteers brought over a teapot... I told him I didn’t think I’d fit.

Somehow I managed to transit through the checkpoint a few seconds faster than Ben and Jeff and I found myself momentarily alone on a sandy track headed for the twin black shale hills (Black Mountain?) in the distance. I was alone long enough to run the scenarios in my head: continue at our even pace and wait for them to catch up, or, put the hammer down and see who still had game.  I chose the latter.  The first question, of course, was, did I have game?  We’d been running for 5 hours, and over 200km in the last 5 days, so the old legs were feeling an unprecedented level of fatigue, but when I asked for a 9 minute mile, they said yes.  Game on.

For the next few miles Ben and Jeff hung on just a hundred meters back, but inch by inch I slowly opened the gap.  I just about missed the flags going up into the saddle of Black Mountain, but caught it and pushed up what would be the last climb of the day.

From the top I could see an expanse of shimmering white sand with dunes and the ocean in the distance.  I could see the Swakop River off to my right. I knew that Camp 6 and the day’s finish was in the dunes.  It looked like a long way off.

I dropped back down to the River and visited Sarah at checkpoint 6, and then the course headed towards a highway overpass a few kilometers distant.  At the overpass I got to run on pavement for a couple of hundred meters.  I have to admit it felt kind of nice to run on a stable flat surface for a while.  Sam was on the overpass with words of enthusiastic encouragement (and to keep me from playing in traffic)!

And while this race was transpiring, another race was going on out of my view.  Nancy had spent the night at the O.R. Tambo  Airport in Johannesburg because Airlink wouldn’t take her Covid test.  After her overnight Covid test failed to materialize, she had taken a rapid PCR that morning and barely caught the only flight to Walvis Bay.  Her driver drove her to the border of the dunes where one of the race 4x4s came to rendezvous.  I had told her that the soonest I would finish the long day was 4pm (as I was expecting an 80km day and it turned out to be about 70km).  As it turns out she made it to the finish line about 30 minutes before I came in just before 3pm.  The thought came into my head, what if she misses the finish because I was trying too hard.  Would she be angry?  The course wound it’s way through some lesser dunes and I could see the flags, then hear the drums, then the finish came into view and Nancy was standing there!  Relief flooded over me, we had both made it.

One of the local girls did the victory dance that I was too tired to perform and I got a long anticipated hug from Nancy.

Jeff came in a few minutes later, followed by Ben.  Radimir came in about twenty minutes later after struggling on his own for over 5 hours.  He was able to hold on to his lead over Jeff in the overall race standings by 5 minutes.

All in all, an amazing day. A beautiful desert. Stiff competition. The longest distance I had ever run. And the love of my life waiting at the finish.

Last night at the ostriche farm was not my best night.  I just couldn't seem to get comfortable, or figure out which end of the tent was highest.  So I only got a few hours of sleep in fits and starts in between trips to the porta-potty.  But that's one of great things about getting older.  A good night's sleep is usually followed by a crappy one.  But I was warm, well fed and fully hydrated, so I really can't complain (although sometimes I still do).

Good morning Swakopmund!

After some frantic packing, a precariously timed COVID test (thankfully negative), and over 40 hours of travel, I have arrived in Swakopmund, Namibia.  Happy to be here. Really happy. 

I used to be able to sleep on airplanes.  One of the many things I could do when I was thirty that escape me now.  Fortunately I was able to get some solid sleep last night.  Until 4am.  

But I’m feeling pretty good now after a little jog on the beach.

My task this morning is to get my freeze drieds and powders moved over from their heavy original packing to lighter, more packable plastic.

I am thankful that all my race gear and food made it here intact.  (Although the multiple packages of powder stoked the suspicion of several TSA officers, the one in Bend swabbed almost every packet for explosive residue).  But it could have been worse.  One of the volunteers was transporting freeze dried food for a couple of racers and his bag was impounded by Namibian customs officials.  Last I heard he was being levied with duties equal to roughly half of the cost of the food!

 I am also happy to report that all my food and stuff fit in my 25 liter race vest (with a small front pack).  Somehow it feels heavier than I imagined.  

The last final hurdle is another COVID test this evening.  If that’s negative, then I can go out to Camp 1 tomorrow afternoon.  Just in time for forecasted high winds!  Should make for a peaceful night sleeping in a tent! 

Rumor has it that the potential for high winds has made Carlos rethink much of the course.  And the rumors seem to indicate that these changes are not going to make the run any easier.

But, maintaining ignorance has always worked well for me, so I figure it will be what it is and I’ll see it when I get there.

Through happy coincidence, I wound up sitting next to Jack Fierstadt on the flight to Walvis Bay.  Jack is a veteran of many RacingThePlanet ultras and a wealth of information and tales.  Jack also has the notoriety of being the only racer here older than I am. 

Anyway.  Hopefully I haven’t picked up any stray virions in my travels.  I have been so nervous about this COVID test that I wore a medical grade N95 mask for most of my hours of travel.  We will see if my paranoia pays off if tomorrow I find myself one step closer to the start of the race.  Wish me luck. 

Some of you have asked if I am doing any fundraising along with the madness.  And, as a matter of fact, yes, I am trying to raise money for patients undergoing cancer treatment at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance  (which is where I received treatment for my NK cell lymphoma).

Feel free to help the cause.

I may be crazy, but I think this race might actually happen, and I may actually be able to complete it.  Knock on wood.

Just a few more hoops to jump through:  I’m looking down the barrel of 40 hours of travel and dealing with British Airways changing my flights every few days, not to mention the Covid testing requirements of 4 sovereign nations.  I went and got a practice Covid test (it was negative!), and the turnaround time was under 24 hours, so if I time things right I may be able to pull off travel to Namibia with just one test.

Trainingwise, I’ve begun a hardcore taper.  When you are out plodding through the woods hour after hour until your feet bleed and your mind goes numb (or vice versa), the idea of a taper might sound really good to you.  But when you actually start the taper, you find yourself with all this extra energy and time and nothing to do with them.  You can only spend so many hours a day on the couch.

I’ve been taking some long walks with the dogs.  And getting our little ranch ready for winter.  And stressing about race details.  Should I wear the clip on front pack (it’s an extra 120gm, but the weight equalization makes the whole load more comfortable)?  What’s the best adhesive to glue the velcro for the gaiters onto my shoes (I’ve been using “shoe goo” with moderate success, but is there a better option)?  Am I going to have enough calories to survive the week?  (Fortunately, I have been gaining weight since starting the taper, so I should have a few extra calories stored in strategic places.)

I am thankful to have made it to this point healthy enough to compete in a race like this.  I am thankful that Nancy is putting up with me during this long process.  I wish all of my fellow competitors, as well as the race team, good health and safe travels.

See you in two weeks!

When I first started thinking in earnest about running the Atacama Crossing Race it was 2019.  I was thinking that running this crazy desert race would be an appropriate challenge to commemorate 5 years cancer free.  I thought it would show that I had taken on the cancer (in my case, NK Cell Lymphoma) and come back stronger.  And I thought maybe I could raise some money for patients going through cancer treatment.  But I was worried that planning a celebration of 5 years cancer free before actually passing that date would be overly hubristic and tempting fate.  So I put the race off until 2020.  And the pandemic put that race off until 2021, and then 2022.  And now I am 3 weeks from the start of running the Namib Race as Plan B.  Last week, 7 years ago, I finished my 4th and final round of chemotherapy.

Somehow the grand gesture I had in mind has morphed into just another minor detour on the path to survival.

The past year has brought devastation and despair to humankind.  Healthcare systems have been overrun, millions of people have suffered and died, and loneliness and isolation have reigned.  In my own little part of the world, both of my parents died.  If not directly from Covid, the imposed isolation contributed to their demise.  Nancy, the love of my life, was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2020 and had to struggle to get treatment for her cancer while hospitals were cancelling "elective" procedures (like cancer surgery) due to the pandemic.

One of the competitors, on a race I served as medical director, said that he decided to run the race after googling “hardest thing a man can do” and what came up was a 4 Deserts multiday Ultra.  I haven’t tried this on Google.  And I haven’t run the race yet.  But I can tell you that the hardest thing I have done wasn’t an athletic event, or even going through radiation and chemotherapy at the same time. By far and away the hardest thing I have ever done was trying to be of any use to the person I love most as she was being treated for cancer.

When I started writing this blog, I thought I’d be highlighting my epic battle against cancer.  But now, with retrospect and insight gained over the past year, I’m coming to grips with the fact that there wasn’t really any epic battle.  I was just another guy doing what needed to be done because he didn’t like the consequences of not doing what needed to be done.  I am thankful for the cancer doctors and nurses and pharmacists and radiation technologists and nutritionists who knew their stuff and got things done for me.  And I am thankful for the love and support of my family and friends that carried me through the darker times.

Which brings me back to the fundraising thing.  It seems a little trite to be out pushing one charity over another right now in the face of all the need that is out there.  You know if you have any money to contribute, and you probably know a hundred places where that money could do some good.  I did start a GoFundMe page over a year ago.  It raises money to support patients who have to come and stay in Seattle to get specialized cancer treatment.  I do believe this is a good cause, especially now when cancer patients are having trouble getting the care they need due to overcrowding at the hospitals.  So, if you are in a position to make a donation, it would certainly be appreciated.  Or you could make a donation to your local cancer center.  If you are in Central Oregon, you could make a donation to the St. Charles Cancer Center (where Nancy is getting her care).  Or you could make a donation to TeamRivs and support another ultra runner, Tommy Rivers Buzey going through NK cell lymphoma.  Like I said, the need out there is huge, please find it in your hearts to support a cause you believe in.

Nancy and I spent the last few days on the Oregon Coast.  In addition to fish and chips and the soothing sounds of breakers on the beach, I was there to practice running in the sand.  South of Florence and North of Coos Bay lies the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area.  It is, according to the website, “one of the largest expanses of temperate coastal sand dunes in the world.”  Sedimentary rock from the coastal range has been eroded into fine grains and washed out to sea by the rivers and then thrown back on land by the winds and the tides to form sand dunes.  In other words, there’s a lot of sand, and it has been sculpted into interesting and challenging shapes.

The Oregon coastal sand is of finer grain than how I remember Namibian sand.  And, since it has been raining on the coast, more damp.  These two factors mean that the sand is more compact, and, for the most part, easier to run on.  I was able to find sand that had been chopped up by foot traffic, horses, or dune buggies and this sand was softer and more unstable to run in.  And, as the dunes get steeper, the sand becomes less compact bringing on the familiar “one step forward, two steps back” phenomena known to desert runners.

So I was able to spend a couple of hours a day plodding across the sand, climbing carefully up the dunes and sliding down their backsides.  I worked on what I think my best sand stride is: quick tempo with a flatfooted strike. It’s still more work than running on a firm surface, but I think it’s doable.

I was a little worried that my chosen shoe, the Hoka Carbon X would be a little stiff for the sand, but they seem to handle the sand well.  And my Raidlight desert gaiters worked well to keep the sand out.

I’m looking forward to seeing the course and finding the surprises Carlos is going to throw at us.

With less than a month to go before the Namib Race, I thought it was time for tuneup race, so, this past weekend, I found myself running the Bend Beer Chase!  55 miles running in between multiple breweries in Central Oregon.  Fortunately, the Beer Chase is a relay, so I only had to run 2 legs (7 and 6 miles), which left me a bit of spare time to taste the beer samples.

Most of the relay teams were made up of 6 runners, but I only have 4 brothers, so we were forced to run the relay with only 5 runners.  Fortunately, I didn’t get stuck with the extra leg.  Another thing that set our team apart was an average age of nearly 59 and a running history dating back to the early 1970s.

After months of slogging through the woods with a pack trying to keep a 6 minute kilometer, it felt good to leave the pack behind and push the pace for a few miles.  According to Mr. Garmin, I managed to run my fastest 10km of the year.

And the team of brothers did pretty well too!  We finished just out of the top 10 (11th out of 113 teams) and second in the masters category. We managed an 8:10/mile average pace.  Not bad for a bunch of old guys!

                   Team Ripper: Crow, Iggy, Hu, Lars and Hans

After a year of loss and isolation, it was good to get together with my brothers and celebrate life in the best ways we know how—running down the road and hoisting a pint.  I am thankful that I have such good men as friends and brothers and that, despite our challenges we are all still healthy enough to tie our own trainers and get out and pound the pavement.

Cheers!

I won’t be carrying a charger in my pack, so my electronics will be somewhat limited.  I won’t be carrying my iPhone or a camera.

I will be wearing a Garmin Solar Instinct GPS watch.  Hopefully, with a little help from the sun, the battery will make it through the race. 

And I have found a small, 30gm, MP3 player that, on Amazon, claims to have a. 72 hour battery life (but, in actuality, has about half that).  So, at least for the first few days, I will have some music to temper the voices in my head.

And so, I will need a playlist!  So, if you have any suggestions, I am wide open.  (Well, not completely wide open, Tony, Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond isn’t going to make the list, Ba Dum Bum Bum, ‘cause it just doesn’t have a beat that I can run to)

I have pretty eclectic tastes in music.  And I can run to a wide variety of musical genres, as long as the song has an unrelenting back beat that kind of syncs with 180 steps per minute.

Some songs that work for me:

Edge of Seventeen (Stevie Nicks)

I Gotta Feeling (Black Eyed Peas)

Take it Off (Ke$ha)

Party Rock (LMFAO)

Jai Ho (AR Rahman)

Buster Voodoo (Rodrigo y Gabriela)

Lust for Life (Iggy Pop)

Hey Baby (Pitbull)

Dreamer (K’naan)

Halo (Beyonce)

She Loves You (The Beatles)

Closer to Free (Bodeans)

Waka Waka (Shakira)

Anyway.  You might be seeing the trend here (the trend being that there is absolutely no trend!).

Or you could pick songs for the playlist that have titles or lyrics more appropriate for the task at hand:

Train in Vain (The Clash)

Beast of Burden (Rolling Stones)

Run Baby Run (Sheryl Crow)

Running on Empty (Jackson Browne)

Before They Make Me Run (Rolling Stones)

Born to Run (Bruce Springsteen)

Horse With No Name (America)

99 Problems, But Jockitch Ain’t One (Jay-Z)

Walk This Way (RunDMC and Aerosmith)

It Keeps You Running (Doobie Brothers)

I’ve Got Sand in my Shoes (The Drifters)

There you have it.  As I said, I am wide open to suggestions.  Tell me what you think ought to be on the Namib Race Playlist!

34 Days to Go!

Last time I checked in the skies of Central Oregon were toxic from the smoke of fires burning in the Cascades and down in California.  Today I am happy to report that, after some rainfall over the weekend, the skies are crystal clear and the air is breathable again.  The precipitation has also left some new snow in the Cascades (our little alpaca ranch overlooks the 3 Sisters volcanoes) signaling that ski season is on its way!  

The Alpacas are happy because the rain has perked up the grass in their pasture which was looking a little parched as the irrigation district has been rationing our water the last last month or so.

But, much as I would like to get excited about getting the boards ready for ski season, first I need to get through this little test of endurance that we are having in the Namib desert.

Speaking of excitement.  I was also pretty jazzed to see the announcement of the 2022 Race in Lapland!  Nancy and I spent a week in Lapland in the fall of 2018 and were in awe of the landscape.  

And the Northern Lights!

Finland will be an amazing place to run.  I have been asked if I have signed up yet.  Not yet, but definitely thinking about it.

But first…. This little jaunt in the desert.

The good news, for my legs at least, is that it is time to start the taper!  I’m sure everybody has their own theory about when and how to taper for a race, but mine is taper early, taper easy.  It’s not like I’m just going to sit on my butt and eat bonbons for the next month.  I’m still going to be out there 5-6 days a week.  But I am going to gradually reduce my training load from abnormal to normal and then finally to minimal.  I was out in the woods running or hiking for 14 hours this weekend (counting Friday).  I’m definitely feeling the fatigue today—in my joints and muscles and well as my head.  Hopefully the taper will allow some of my stressed connective tissue to heal and harden.  And allow my immune system to ramp up for the challenges of traveling to Namibia.  

Today's training?  Rest Day!  I think I'm going to like this taper thing!

Powders, Snacks and Supplements

Before I go any further, I should remind the reader that, as I pointed out in one of my earlier postings, in 2014 I underwent radiation to the head and neck which, among other things, killed off almost all of my taste buds.  I have been working assiduously over the past 7 years to stimulate the growth of new buds and to train the survivors how to appreciate the gifts that food and beverage bring to the palate, but you need to understand that my sense of taste is impaired.  At best.  So if you hear me saying that something is “tasty” or “yummy,” you should probably take this with a grain of salt.

And speaking of a grain of salt.  Electrolyte supplements are on the Mandatory Equipment List.  Either salt tablets, capsules or powders.

As I mentioned earlier, the beverage choices at the Namib Race will be limited.  Water or, well, water.  The question is whether or not to bring some sort of powder or powders to mix in your water.  Me, I am going to be packing powder.  Over the years, I have tried just about every sports electrolyte drink out there:  ERG, HEED, Gatorade, Tailwind, Perpetuem, Nuun, Fizz, pickle juice.  And the product I’ll be going with is Skratch Labs Hydration drink mix in lemon-lime.  Everybody’s taste and gut is a little different, but I have found that I can drink Skratch all day.  Skratch was put together by Dr. Allen Lim, a PhD in sports physiology, working and traveling with pro cyclists in need of a better beverage.  I go with one scoop per bottle and that gives me 80 calories and 380mg of sodium.  Seems to work for me.  At 360 calories per 100gm, it will take almost a half kilogram of Skratch to get me through the week.

On a side note.  As a part of the medical team, and only to avoid placing an IV drip (which is a one way ticket out of the race), I have given skratch to two competitors who were unable to keep anything else down.  They both were able to keep skratch down and finish the race.  Not a scientific double blinded study by anybody’s standards, but it adds to my belief that Dr. Lim makes good stuff.

Skratch also makes a recovery drink that I like.  Most sports physiologists will agree that it is important to get some sugars and proteins (the ratio is argued, but it’s probable somewhere near 4:1, sugar to protein) into your system as soon as possible at the end of prolonged exercise.  Skratch recovery is pretty much chocolate milk in a powder.  With some vitamins, electrolytes  and probiotics thrown in to make it proprietary.  And it tastes good enough to be something to look forward to at the end of a long day.  Skratch recovery has 200 calories in 2 scoops or 400 calories in 100gm.  I will be carrying a quarter kilo of this.

Skratch has also recently come out with a new product:  Superfuel. Superfuel packs 400 calories into a bottle.  But it take 7 scoops of powder (105gm) to do that.  So it’s a little heavy to use as your main beverage.  Superfuel has a secret ingredient:  cluster dextran.  Cluster dextran is reportedly a slow digesting form of dextrose (sugar), which allows you to dump calories in without blowing up your gut.  Coming from the medical profession, I try to shy away from things called clusters, but this stuff isn’t too bad.  I don’t think I need a bottle with 400 calories, though, so I have been experimenting with sneaking a scoop or two in with my regular scratch to boost the calorie count just a bit.  So far, the results are promising.

Given that I am getting my food from Yorkshire and my powders from Boulder, Colorado, I’m going to source my snacks a little closer to home.  Picky Bars are made where I live, here in Bend, Oregon.  They were developed by professional endurance athletes who live and train here.  And they are yummy.  At 400 calories per 100gm, they come in a handy 4-5 bite size bar that can be gobbled on the run, or savored back in camp.  Picky bars are made of pronounceable real food ingredients, sit well in an active stomach and come in a variety of flavors.  My favorites are Moroccan your World (with turmeric, ginger and pistachios) and Smooth Caffeinator (with hazelnuts, chocolate and coffee).

If it gets really hot, say 90 degrees (32 deg C), I may need to add in a little more salt than the 380mg in a bottle of Skratch.  For this I will be carrying some salt tablets, probably Salt Stick or Endurolytes.

I have also been experimenting with a supplement called Vespa CV25.  This is a synthesized peptide based on a food secreted by wasp larvae that allows the adult Japanese Giant Wasp to fly 50 kilometers a day, kill other insects, chew them up, and fly the chewed ball of goo back to the hive to feed the larvae.  (Kind of like CrossFit for Hymenoptera)  The idea is that this peptide will help me metabolize body fat while I am exercising, thus giving me more energy without having to consume food.  My coach Jaime swears by the stuff.  My friend Mary, who is an ironman triathlete as well as an endocrinologist (which means that she probably still remembers the Krebs Cycle from medical school and understands how to apply it), thinks that Vespa CV25 is pretty much snake oil.  One way to improve the placebo affect a substance may have is to make that substance expensive and hard to get, which CV25 is, so it may all be placebo.  But I have been getting good results with CV25 and it is lighter than food!

And, finally, I’ll be bringing instant coffee.  As a long time shift worker who works all shifts, my circadian rhythm is pretty much nonexistent.  As such, coffee is how my body knows that it is morning.  Unfortunately, alcohol, which is how my body knows it is night time is not allowed in the desert.  So I will have to muddle through.  

You may be wondering about all this recent blog activity.

Fact of the matter, it is fire season here in the American West, and it is not healthy to go outside.  So I have been channeling my excess energy into blogging while I wait for the sky to clear.  I’m not sure how to enter blogging about running as an activity into training peaks (and it is unclear what TSS--training stress score--that blogging incurs).  

Food! 

Suffice it to say, people aren’t signing up for the Namib Multiday Ultramarathon because of the food.

Breakfast Buffet options on the Namib Race:  Hot water.  Cold water.  (Not an espresso machine in sight.). Dinner buffet:  same.  Lunch:  not even any hot water.

But food is the fuel on which we run.  And, the beauty (or agony) of it all, you have to carry what you eat.  The Mandatory Equipment List requires that racers carry 14000 calories of food, or 2000 calories per day.  The average human being burns 1500-2000 calories a day just staying alive, at rest.  This is called basal metabolism—the calories that keep our heart beating, our lungs moving air, our kidneys processing urine, etc.  This means that if you carry the minimum number of calories in your pack, you are fully prepared to spend the week at rest.  Unfortunately, the race organizers make this darn difficult.  Racers will be burning 300-400 calories an hour hiking and 400-600 calories an hour running, more or less, depending on their size and their pace.  Which basically means we will all be starving (if we carry only the minimum required food).   

So the food challenge is this:  How to carry as many calories as possible while adding as little weight to your pack as possible.  And this comes down to caloric density.  Or how many calories can you find in a set weight of food.  Dieticians will tell you that eating calorie dense food is bad.  You want to load your plate with fruits and vegetables which are not calorie dense.  And they would be right.  Unless you have to carry your food on your back.  There are 34 calories in 100gm of broccoli.  This means if I want to fuel myself with broccoli for the race I would be carrying 41 kilograms of cruciferous veggies.  That isn’t going to happen.  

So maybe I will load up on the most calorie dense food available: Butter.  At 700 calories per 100gm, 14000 calories of butter will add only 2 kilos to my pack.  There it is.  Done.

                                            14000 calories in just 2 kilos! (I'm not counting the butter dish)

Unfortunately I am not keto-adapted enough to survive on butter for a week.  I would be pooping myself and not be able to fully take advantage of all those yummy calories.  

And so I will have to find a more edible compromise.  And in general that means freeze dried meals.  Most freeze dried meals carry from 350 to 600 calories per 100gm.  I have been backpacking and climbing since the 1970s, so I have eaten my share of freeze dried beef stroganoff.  And I will say that the Expedition Foods Beef Stroganoff is as tasty as any.  (Once again, I am not a sponsored athlete, I have paid for and personally tasted every brand I mention here). It is not as if I can’t get good freeze dried food here in Central Oregon.(Expedition Foods are made in East Yorkshire and come to me by way of Hong Kong, or is it the other way around?).  I can wander down to REI and take my pick from a large and diverse aisle of backpacking foods:  I can get freeze-dried organic, I can get freeze-dried gourmet, I can get vacuum sealed vegan.  And I can get at least 3 varieties of beef stroganoff.  But I am going with Expedition Foods for three reasons:  they come in 1000 calorie meals (Mountain House beef stroganoff, for instance, comes 560 calories, which they call 2 servings, to a package, and only has 450 calories per 100gm), they are on the upper end of the calorie density chart, and they taste pretty good.  

                                           594 calories per 100gm!  Woot!

So here’s my 14000 calories:  One 1000 calorie breakfast (usually porridge with berries and cream), and one 1000 calorie dinner (I’m partial to the chicken tikka with rice), every day for 7 days.  On my ‘fatigue block’ weekends I have been trialing this menu and my gut seems to take it in stride.  I think it will work.  Sorry if that sounds pretty dull.  If my meals average 520 calories per 100gm, that gives me 14000 calories in 2.7kg.  Which means I have roughly another kilo to fill with drinks and snacks!

Plan B

Sadly, the 2021 Atacama Crossing Race has been postponed to 2022.  Even though Chile is probably one of the safest places in the world to visit right now, we can’t get in without a 7 day quarantine (I personally would have taken the quarantine as my taper, but I don’t think most of the racers would have been able to meet the requirement).  I can’t say that I blame the Chileans.  They have a good thing going.  

I think I said a few months ago that among my revised goals for the race was to train hard enough so that I wouldn’t die in the desert, but not so hard that it would break my heart if the race was canceled.  So my heart isn’t broken.  But I was pretty bummed.  I’ve been having vivid dreams of running the salt flats  with the crinkled desert surface extending off into the surreally azure Atacama sky with Licancabur hovering above the sands like a gray ghost.  I was so looking forward to getting back there.  Even if I had to run the salt flats as part of the deal.

I may still show up in San Pedro de Atacama a year and a month from now.  And I may even be in better shape.  But it is hard for me to let all the training I have done this summer go.  (I’m not really sure where training goes when you stop training, but I do know that at my age, wherever it goes, it disappears breathtakingly quickly).  I mean ski season is coming, but the hours spent trudging the dusty trails only partially translate to speed on snow.

And so.  Plan B!

The Namib Race is still set to start on October 24th.  Namibia has just been downgraded from a 4 to a 3 on the CDC travel list, and I intend to be there.  I was part of the medical team for the 2018 Namib Race, so I have history there as well.  Namibia is a beautiful country with beautiful people, and I look forward to returning.

                              2018 Medical Team!  Pearlly, Cassandra, Nancy and Bryan (and some old guy)

The race format will be the same as Atacama, but the experience will be different, with different challenges.  There will be more sand.  Namibia has the biggest dunes in the world, and I am sure that Carlos the course director will have us climbing as many dunes as he possibly can.  They have changed the course since I was there in 2018, so I have no first hand experience with the course, but I am sure there will be sand.

                                                          Setting the 2018 course

                                                                            lots of sand

 Running on sand requires anywhere from 25% to 100% more energy than running on pavement.  It's kind of like running a never ending uphill.  And the technique is a little different.  Sand requires a shorter, quicker stride and favors a flat footed footstrike.  Just like the aboriginal peoples of the arctic purportedly have 100 different words for snow, I’m sure the desert runners have delineated 100 types of sand.  Soft sand.  Packed sand.  Wet sand.  Quick sand?  And there is probably a different technique for every kind of sand.  The trails I run in the Oregon high desert often are often packed sand, but not the bottomless sand of the Namib.  I’m going to have to go find some dunes to practice on.  This may involve some travel to the Oregon coast.  I’m sure that I can find some sand dunes there!

The Namib race is at sea level, more or less, which is good for me (better than 2-3000 meters in Chile).  And it is likely to be warmer than Atacama, especially at night.  So sleeping should be easier.  (It could potentially be hotter during the day, however.). And as far as I can tell there won’t be any river crossings, unless Namibia gets some unexpected October rains, and, at least from my standpoint, dry feet are happier feet.

So Namib Race 2021 it is!  I will have to say that I was so, so, so looking forward to a taper in September, but for the prospect of getting to race, I will happily put off my taper until October.  One more month of over-volume training.  And you guys are going to have to put up with another month or two of this blog!

The Gear Thing, Part 3?

Last year, more than 18 months ago, when I started this blog, I was obsessing over gear:  What to bring, how much it weighed, how much money was it worth to save one ounce, could you really brush your teeth if you cut the handle off your toothbrush (and would you really want to if you are having to poop in a hole and all you have to clean your hands with is 2 ounces of alcohol gel?).  And I’m still geeking out over this stuff, but I have made most of the decisions and I pretty much know what’s going into my pack.  Mostly.

But first off.  Let me just say how FREAKING AMAZING IT IS TO BE WATCHING THE RACE GOING ON IN GEORGIA!!!  Go Reinhold!  Go Isabelle!  Go Georgia the dog!  Go everyone!  The pictures have been amazing.  (Looking a little muddy though!). But it is giving my heart an extra boost of joy to see a Racing the Planet Ultra taking place after this long and painful hiatus.  I wish I was there.  Even if just to man a checkpoint or pop blisters in the medical tent.  But I am thankful for all the work that went into putting this race together and making it happen.  I wish all the racers in Georgia success, happiness, good health and safety in their endeavor.

And so back to gear.

As I mentioned before, it all starts with the MEL (mandatory equipment list).

The big ticket items that I will be going with include:

—Raidlight Revolutiv 24L vest (superlight, no padding to be found anywhere, a polyfilament ratcheting adjustment system that welds the pack to your body, and half price when Raidlight USA had their going out of business sale)

—Z-pack’s 3/4 zip 30 degree down sleeping bag. 900 fill down.  Practically a piece of art!  Weighs in under a pound.  Comes with a bungee tie down to keep it from floating away when you aren’t using it.

—Patagonia ultralight down sweater.  Already had this.  Could’ve spent $400 to buy a puffy that weighed an ounce or two less, but decided to spend the money elsewhere

—Raidlight Hyperlight MP+ Hoodie Jacket.  Also half price at the aforementioned going out of business sale.  Superlight.  Fabric so insubstantial you can literally see though it.  But it should keep me dry.  In the driest place on earth.  (If I was racing the Georgia race, I’d be wet right now)

—Petzl e+Lite Headlamp.  Two of these.  Superlight (1ounce) but not super bright.  If we are out together after dark and you have a big, heavy 4000 lumen headlamp, expect me to become your best friend.

—Thermarest NeoAir shortie sleeping pad.  Not on the MEL, but something to keep most of my old and tired bones off the cold, hard ground.  (and a Sea to Summit ultralight pillow, okay, so I need a pillow)

—Raidlight R-go bottles.  Not the little soft easy-flask bottles that came with the pack.

—an extra shirt, pants and socks.  Some 2XU recovery tights.

--hat and gloves

—and all the other stuff that you can get on amazon: sunscreen, alcohol gel, mirror, compass, red-flashing light, plastic poncho (the videos from Georgia are showing a few folks sporting these!), bivy-bag, blister kit, ace-wrap, etc.

So as of today, the base weight (every thing off the MEL that I will be carrying, not wearing, except for food and water) of my pack and gear is a little over 3 kg (about 7 pounds).  And I haven’t started cutting the handle off my toothbrush or cutting all the tags off my gear, so I am hopeful that I can shave another gram or two off my base weight.  My goal was to have a pack weighing in under 7kg, so that still leaves me with almost 4kg for food and water.  Food, glorious food!  The stuff of life!  (And a blog post topic in its own right)

A few more thoughts about feet and footwear 

As I may have mentioned, I have never run one of these multi-day ultramarathon thingies, so anything I put up here on this blog is just my musing about how I think things will work.  It shouldn’t be taken as race tested advice.  I have, however, worked on the medical team for 6 Racing the Planet races, so I have personally looked at hundreds of gnarly looking feet and popped thousands of blisters.  I think it was Riitta who said she was looking forward to seeing how well I managed my own blisters.  And I told her I was looking forward to limping into the medical tent and sticking my dirty bloody feet in some poor, unsuspecting doctor’s face.  (Not really).  I wish I had some wisdom I could pass on that would guarantee a blister free race.  (But I don’t). 

Many racers swear by “pre-taping” their toes and other sensitive areas with paper tape, cloth tape or, in extreme cases, duct tape.  I suspect that the racers for whom this works don’t come see me in the med tent.  The unfortunate ones for whom this doesn’t work come in with blisters underneath the tape.  Problematic at best. 

The experts at RTP and elsewhere (John Vonhoff, Fixing Your Feet), recommend running in shoes 1-2 sizes larger than your usual size.  This allows extra room in the shoe for tape, socks and the inevitable swelling that comes from pounding the heck out of your feet for hours.  But, if you don’t fill this extra space with something (socks, tape, fluid), your feet will slosh around in your shoes, and this in itself will cause blisters.  I personally, will be going from a 10.5 to an 11 in US sizing.  I would recommend spending some time running in various sizes of shoes to determine what degree of sizing up is right for you.

I have noticed that we don’t usually see the race leaders in the med tent.  I have asked them what foot secrets they can offer to prevent blisters.  Most of them will say, “I don’t get blisters.”  And my question would be, do they not get blisters because they are in front, or are they in front because they don’t get blisters?  One wonders.  As best as I can gather, they don’t get blisters because they have put in the miles of training necessary to win an ultramarathon.  And they have worked out the shoe-sock combo that is best for them.  And then there’s scar tissue.  Scar tissue is my secret weapon.  In training I run until I get a sore spot, and then I either stop for the day or stop to readjust my shoe or sock.  Then I let the sore spot heal up and form a little scar tissue.  And then, hopefully, that little bit of scar tissue keeps me from getting a blister there in the future.  In any case, chances are pretty good that you will get a blister or two in training—and this would be the perfect opportunity to get out your blister kit and play around with what’s inside and figure out what works best.  You will thank yourself later.  (And the medical team will thank you as well).

And, almost as important as the shoe choice, there is the socks choice:  1 pair, 2 pair, thick, thin, with or without toes, and, of course, what color do you prefer?  Tassels?  I have tried running with a thin liner sock under my running socks.  This works well, up to the point where it doesn’t.  For me, two pairs of socks doubles my chance of getting a bunched up bit of sock rubbing where it shouldn’t.  I prefer a single pair of medium thick socks.  I like the injinji toe socks in that they provide a little bit of individual protection for each toe.  But you have to be careful that the toebox of your shoe has the room to accommodate the extra fabric.  The other problem of the toe socks is that it takes 5 times longer to put them on than regular socks.  More when your toes are sweaty or dirty.  You don’t want to be that guy that’s still putting on his socks when the gun goes off.

And, finally, there are those funny looking gaiter thingies.  The last time I was at Atacama, the guy who won, Mo Foustok, wasn’t wearing gaiters.  But then, I swear when he ran across the salt flats his feet barely touched the ground.  Whenever I run in sand, however, my shoes fill up every 100 meters, and, if I don’t stop to empty them, it gets so I can’t run any further.  And, even in the non-sandy bits, gaiters help keep dirt and rocks out of your shoes.  I can’t say definitively that cleaner feet are less likely to blister, but, in the medical tent, it seems like the dirty feet are the one’s with the worst blisters.  But going with gaiters does mean extra weight on your feet.  Even with ultra-light gaiters, say 40gm each, if you take 250,000 steps in the course of the race, it will add up to 10,000kg of transported weight.  Plus they’re funny looking.

                                                                        without gaiters

                                                                            with gaiters

                                                                        under the gaiters

As you can see in the pictures, the gaiters definitely keep my feet cleaner!

These are the Raidlight desert gaiters that velcro onto your shoes.  I will say here that the pre-stick velcro that comes with the gaiters will not stay stuck to your shoes, and if you glue it on, the foam backing will fall apart.  Better to get non-sticky, non-foam velcro hooks and glue them onto your shoes.

Footwear

One of the most important decisions that needs to be made is what exactly I am going to be wearing on my feet when I go trotting off into the Atacama Desert.  As you can see, I’ve got a few choices lying around in the garage.

(It should be painfully clear to the reader that I am not a sponsored athlete, so while I will be mentioning a few shoe brands here, I won’t be receiving any renumeration, or even free shoes.)

For years I ran in whatever was on sale at the shoe shop (in the days before the internet).  Converse.  Nike.  Tiger (now ASICS).  Adidas.  Brooks.  I ran the way I learned to run, with a long stride and a heel strike.  Then for years I was plagued with achilles tendinitis, so I wasn’t able to run much.  Then I fancied myself a bicycle racer for a few years, and I didn’t run at all.  Bicycle racers don’t run.  It’s bad for the legs.  When I did start to run again I taught myself to run with a shorter stride and a midfoot strike.  I found this was better for my Achilles tendons.  With the new technique, I needed a shoe with a little less drop (the amount of height loss in between the heel and the forefoot of a running shoe).  I tried the Newton for a time, but I kept getting hung up on the little rocker of tread under the forefoot.  I tried a pair of Hokas and found the sole rocker compatible with my new stride, and I have been running the Hoka since.  Mostly the Clifton.  I like the level of padding in the sole and the shoes seem to fit my feet well.

Unfortunately, the Cliftons are not the longest lasting shoe.  The guys at the shop suggest that you change them out every 300 miles.  And I have found that in gravel, or more abrasive terrain,  they will break down even faster.

The obvious Hoka choice for trails would be the Speedgoat.  The Goat is built with a sturdier upper, more supportive lacing and a grippier and durable tread on top of a cushy amount of foam in the midsole.  I have run through a few pairs of the Speedgoats and feel comfortable in them on trails.  Although I will say they do have a little less room for the toes than some of the other Hokas.

So Speedgoat it is.  

Maybe.

You will probably have heard about the carbon fiber plate technology being introduced into running shoes in the last few years.  The physics of the plate, I believe, is to absorb some of the energy of the footstrike and then transmit that energy into the pushoff as the shoe leaves the ground.  Nike introduced the Vaporfly and promised a 4% boost in times.  Naturally I bought into this, as I have mentioned before, I have no moral qualms about buying speed.  I will admit to being skeptical.  I even told the gal at Footzone that I’d be bringing the shoes back if I only ran 3% faster.  In 2019, however, I ran the vaporflys in a half marathon and my time was almost exactly 4% better than my best half marathon time from 2018 in non-carbon shoes.  Obviously, there were a lot of variables:  it wasn’t on the same course, both halfs were run in duathlons, after a 56+ mile bicycle ride on different courses, I was in different training phases, etc.  But, still, at my age, when you are getting faster a year older, that’s a win.

Hoka makes a carbon plate shoe.  The Carbon X.  And I will say that, even though it was not designed for trails, it is currently my favorite shoe for road or trail.  There isn’t much in the way of tread, so the Carbon X is not a good choice for wet, muddy trails, but I don’t see much of those conditions here in the Oregon high desert, and I don’t expect them in Atacama (famous last words?)  And I am no physicist, but I suspect that the carbon plate energy transfer doesn’t do you much good in sandy terrain.  At my usual pace, I don’t think the carbon plate makes me any faster, but what I do notice is I get better and faster recovery with the carbon technology.  So I feel this would be an advantage in a multi-day event.

The Carbon X is also not the most durable shoe.  But I have been able to run 400 miles (about twice as many as recommended by the guy at the shoe shop) on them before the carbon plate starts to poke out of the sole.

And, as is to be expected, just about the time I got used to the Carbon X, Hoka decided to improve them.  The X2 added some changes to the sole, particularly the heel, and they re-engineered the tongue as well.  The new tongue is stiffer with a rubberized backing which, over long distances, seems to cause skin breakdown over my anterior tibialis tendon.  So I had to go out on the internet and buy up all the X1s…

Anyway.  There it is.  I will probably show up in San Pedro with more than one pair of running shoes.  I may make a race day call as to which shoe I go with, but I will probably be out on the trail in the Carbon Xs.  Or the Speedgoats.  If you find me sitting by the side of the trail cursing a blown out sneaker, well, you can say you told me so.

Training Plan

(Note:  this should not be construed as THE training plan for the Atacama Crossing (AC), merely my musings as to what I should be doing in what little time I have left to train.  I should also say that I’ve left the actual details in the capable hands of a professional, Jaime, my coach from Laughing Dog Coaching)

This is what I am thinking about!

1. Walking:  Much as I would like to run the entire race, chances are pretty good that I will be spending more than a little time walking across the Atacama landscape.  As such, I will need to be comfortable walking, so my plan is to walk a few miles in the woods most mornings with the dogs, and Nancy if she’s available.  Not only will this strengthen my stride, but it allows my mind to wander and seek its own exercise.  
2. Running:  The AC is, after all, a race.  The amount of running I can accomplish will determine whether or not I can be competitive in the race.  As I have mentioned in my other postings, my old legs can only take so much of this running stuff, so I will have to be judicious and intelligent about the miles I do put in.  My plan is to run most of my mileage in weekly blocks of 2-3 days.  These little blocks will hopefully simulate the fatigue of a multi-day race and get my legs used to going out to perform even when they are achy and tired.  Most of my running will be at an aerobic (Zone 2 for you Training Peaks geeks) pace with occasional bits creeping up into Tempo pace (Zone 3).  
3. Cycling:  As I’ve mentioned before, I still identify as a cyclist (even if my bicycle racing career was less than legendary).  My friend Jay once told me that “the bicycle is the wheelchair of the older athlete,” and I will have to say that the Guru Praemio titanium racing bicycle Nancy got me for my 50th birthday (even though I asked for a Red 1961 Porsche Speedster) rescued me from a path to certain obesity and immobility.  So my plan is to continue cycling.  I will use longer rides to add to the ‘fatigue blocks,’ and I will throw down some intervals on the bike as well.  At my age, high intensity training needs to be taken sparingly, once or twice a week at most, and I find that I can control the intensity better on the bike with the numbers on my bike computer than I can while running and trying to look at my watch.
4. Strength training:  Every coach and athlete will agree that strength training is an essential element to any training plan.  But no one can agree on what the best form of strength training is.  As a 125# cross country skier, I was traumatized early on when my coach tossed me into the weight room with the hockey and wrestling teams.  I will say that the best strength training program is one that you will actually do, 2-3 times a week.  After years of trying and then failing to follow through on various modalities, I have finally settled on the Vasa trainer.  While it was designed for swimmers, it is basically a poor man’s version of a Pilates Reformer.  The Vasa Trainer allows me to perform 20-30 reps of 10 exercises 3 times in under an hour.  Exercising most muscle groups while focusing on the core.  Without a trip to the gym.  Sold.  
5. Stretching:  Again, an easily ignored (at your peril) essential.  My failure to properly stretch over the years has brought prosperity to several physical therapists.  Brenda Rode, my current therapist, likes to say, “length is strength.”  I try to stretch twice a day.  On my morning walks, after the muscles have warmed up, I do some static stretches of my hamstrings, quads and calf/achilles.  3 sets of 20 second stretches for each.  Before I go run, I spend about 5 minutes performing dynamic stretching:  hopping, skipping, soldier walking, knee to chest walking and heel to buttock running.
6. Rest:  All of this training stuff causes trauma.  And the best way to recover from trauma is rest.  I will be resting as much as possible.  At least one to two days a week.  Sleep is good too.  Unfortunately, as we age, sleep becomes a more erratic and difficult goal to attain.  To make up for some of the sleep I’m missing at night, I’m having to resort to the old guy hack of taking naps.
7. Nutrition:  While I won’t be giving up burgers or beer like Ben(!!), I am going to focus on a healthy diet, as plant based as I can tolerate.  Additionally, I will be tracking the calories I burn during exercise and try to replace those calories as soon after exercise as my GI tract will allow. 
8. Race Specific Training:

1. Terrain:  The AC course takes the competitor over sand dunes, through rivers and slot canyons, across salt flats, bare rock and jeep tracks.  While I have been doing almost all of my running in the dirt, over the next month I will be seeking out more unstable terrain to simulate the course.  Maybe I will even get my feet wet!
2. Race Nutrition:  In addition to experimenting with various electrolyte concoctions and energy bars (expect a report soon!), I have been adding in some instant oatmeal in the morning and freeze dried cuisine the night before!  yum.  
3. Grunge practice:  Nancy isn’t liking this, but I’ve been going several days without washing my running kit.  When it crawls on its own to the laundry room, it is time to wash it.  I haven’t tried going several days without washing me.  I guess that’s next level.
4. Sleeping on the Ground:  Part of the AC challenge is to get up and perform after sleeping on the cold, hard ground all night.  I’m going to start throwing that element into the ‘fatigue block’ mix.
5. Backpack:  I’m up to running with a 5kg pack.  I will have to up that by a couple of kilos over the coming month.  Then I plan on backing off.
6. Altitude:  The AC starts out at 3000 meters, but descends to 2000 meters early on.  I live at a little over 1000 meters and train up to 1500 meters.  So I think I can handle the altitude.  I’m not thinking I’m going to have to start sleeping in an altitude chamber.  But I will have to look at my travel options to see if acclimatization is an option.

There it is folks!  You heard it here first (or 3rd, or whatever).  If you are training for the AC, feel free to borrow whatever looks good.  Or comment on the absurdity of it all.