Interlude: Southwest Adventures

Stepping off the plane in Vegas, I saw slot machines and a strange skyline simulating other world cities. I'd been there previously, though. And just as before, the idea was to grab that rental car and get the hell outta Dodge as quickly as possible. Actual adventure awaited...

Standing on top of Star Dune in Death Valley

I'm planning to flesh this blog post out with more text soon, but for the moment here's our quick vacation itinerary and a whole lot of photos.

Flight Night: Mt. Charleston to the northwest of Las Vegas (starry skies and snow-capped peaks!)
Day 1: Snow and trails and vistas up around Mt. Charleston; Zabriskie Point; Badwater Basin walk; Natural Bridge hike; air b&b in Beatty, NV.
Day 2: Morning hike out on the dunes at Mesquite Flats; Afternoon hike around the rim of Ubehebe Crater in the northern part of Death Valley; night 2 in Beatty.
Day 3: Drive day. En route to Zion. Dinner at a sub-par Mexican food restaurant. Night 1 at resort in Springdale, UT.
Day 4: 15-mile trail run up Angel's Landing and out the West Rim Trail, around the loop and back Telephone Canyon Trail and back to the valley floor. Dinner at the new brewpub. Night 2 at resort in Springdale.
Day 5: 10-mile trail run up on Kolob Terrace on the Connector Trail to Northgate Peaks. Dinner at Oscars (really good). Night 3 at resort in Springdale.
Day 6: 4-mile hike on East Rim Trail, dodging thunderstorms. Dinner at Whiptail Grille during a rainstorm. Beers with Jason and Anne at their place. Night 4 at resort in Springdale.
Day 7: 2-mile hike on Canyon Overlook Trail; 1-mile poke up a slot canyon, avoiding quicksand traps; drive back west; coffee and lunch at River Rock Roasters along the Virgin River; 1-mile hike at Valley of Fire SP.
Flight back: all day.  

Badwater Basin

 West Rim Trail in Zion

 Along the Connector Trail in Zion

Snow on Mt. Charleston, to the west of Las Vegas

first short hike of our trip, to Robbers Roost climbing area

we more or less had the place to ourselves

after the first half mile or so at Badwater Basin

out onto the flats in 106 degree temps... because Badwater

salt polygons

salt polygons

downcanyon breeze coming out of the Natural Bridge hike

Natural Bridge

view out over Badwater Basin from the mouth of the canyon

our awesome airb&b cabin in Beatty, NV

the owner had left out a bottle of wine

morning dune trek

me at Mesquite

Mesquite Flats sand dunes, Death Valley

 Ubehebe Crater, Death Valley

desert blooms at Ubehebe

along the rim trail at Ubehebe Crater

How the West Was Won and Where it Got Us

Zion

heading up Angels Landing Trail

Walter's Wiggles

Zion Canyon and the Virgin River

desert wildflowers

 

West Rim Trail

up the West Rim Trail

climbing the West Rim Trail

climbing the West Rim Trail

running along the West Rim Trail

our highest elevation of the day, along the dry, upper plateau on the West Rim Trail

dropping down the Telephone Canyon Trail

easy running down the Telephone Canyon Trail

coming down some slickrock on the West Rim Trail

passing back through Refrigerator Canyon

descending the middle part of Angel's Landing Trail

westward view up on Kolob Terrace

running along the Connector Trail in Zion

running along the Connector Trail in Zion

stream crossing along the Connector Trail in Zion

running near Northgate Peaks

desert bloom

post-run liquid refueling at Oscars

stormy morning on the Canyon Overlook Trail

Canyon Overlook Trail

Zion

Canyon Overlook Trail

Canyon Overlook Trail, not for those afraid of heights

Wading to avoid quicksand traps in Shelf Canyon

Avoiding quicksand in Shelf Canyon

adventure girl

dropping down out of Shelf Canyon

getting back around the quicksand traps

Need COFFEE!!!

This place is all kinds of terrific.

Valley of Fire State Park in southern Nevada

 The girl liked the desert. 

slot canyons are the coolest

Leaving Las Vegas: Zion from Above

Spring Racing

I've always preferred middle-distance races. In high school track my favorite was the 800m. Not the mile or the shorter sprints, but the neither-sprint-nor-distance 800. And the trail races I really enjoy often seem to be in and around the 10-16 mile range.

So this spring, as I recover from last fall's blood clot episode, I've decided to run what makes me happy (never mind that I wouldn't be able to go longer even if I wanted to... quiet, you!). If it all goes well, perhaps I'll (be able to) bump up to big miles again in the fall. But for now it's a season of my faves: middle distance running races.

First up was the brand-new Black Birch Vineyard 10-miler in Hatfield, MA on March 31. I came in 53rd out of 381, finishing in 1:21:30 (an 8:03 pace). This was a fairly straightforward out-and-back 10-miler, mostly on rural roads starting in the flat part of the valley and climbing for five miles up into the hills. I hadn't run a proper 10-miler in years, and remember now that it's a great place to exercise your pacing skills in the early miles.

finishing the Black Birch Vineyard 10-miler

Next was the 22K short course at the also brand-new Mt. Toby Ultra in Sunderland, MA. I came in 26th out of 51, in 2:57:05. This was a somewhat strange event, as some local assholes came along and moved the marker flags around mile 2 and the entire field of both the 22K and the 50K ended up all bunched together and going off on mile-long tangents in the wrong direction, etc. Somehow we all got back on track by mile 5 or so, and though I wondered how anyone could salvage a good time in conditions like that, some people REALLY ran fast in this one. Before the screw-up I'd been near the front of the middle of the pack, making pretty good time. At the end of the screw-up I was near dead last, feeling some weird sense of responsibility for making sure no one ended up lost. I slowly gained ground again during the course of the rest of the race, but not nearly as much as I thought I would, and ended up right smack in the middle. I didn't feel like I could have gone much faster than I did, especially on the big downhill from the summit, which went straight down the wet and rocky telephone line trail, a tricky descent even in drier conditions. At any rate, I ended up running near my friends Dawn and Jeff for the last few miles, so at least I was in good company. A really bright note about this one: the cave section. For a few hundred feet, about 3 miles from the finish, the course goes into and through a cave that's just long enough to actually get completely dark in the middle. Tom Davidson had set up a string of lights and a couple lanterns in part of it, and it was really pretty cool. Very much a unique and fun novelty part of a trail race course. It was drizzling most of the way and temps were chilly; I wore quarter-tights and gloves and a rain cap the whole way and was comfortable the entire time.

cave lights

finishing the first Mt. Toby Ultra 22K (24K) race
(photos by Jennifer Garrett)

Last race for this window was a short one, the Big Cheese 5K over in Athol, MA. I hadn't run a 5K in years either and wanted to see how it would go. I wasn't quite back in fighting form, but I did alright, coming in 35th out of 318 in 23:55. That's at least a few minutes slow for a 5K for me, but this isn't a fast 5K. There's a couple of short but steep hills, and a couple of long, steady ones too.

that's me in the yellow singlet near the top of the photo,

behind the guy in the red "Trump 2020" t-shirt.

just after the start of the Big Cheese 5K

(photos courtesy of the race)

After this we'll be taking a vacation to the desert southwest for a bit, but after that it's back to New England and a couple of mid-distance trail races I've been looking forward to for quite some time...

Winter's Finest: A 25K Snowshoe Race

By late February a lot of people here in western MA were ready for spring. Not because it had been an especially snowy or cold winter, but because they were just understandably sick of icy sidewalks, AWOL road shoulders, and muscles that won't loosen up sometime in the first mile or five. Many of our trails lacked snow cover but featured exquisitely treacherous ice ribbons better suited for skating than running or even hiking. It had definitely been THAT kind of winter.

But it was a different story just across the border up in Vermont. The southern Green Mountains and adjacent northern Taconics (see regional map) kept collecting snow, as they often do in later winter. Ski areas did well, and snowshoe races continued quietly (too quietly, I fear; I hope they see a bump in numbers next year) throughout the season. Which of course made ME happy, as I'm a well established winter lover.

On Sunday, March 3, I ran the 25K race at the Merck Ultra snowshoe races (formerly advertised as the "Mystery Ultra" earlier in the season) at Merck Forest near Dorset, VT. The race was part of a series put on by Nor'East Trail Runs. The weather was perfect for it, with a few inches of fresh fluffy snow on the ground covering up the occasional icy patch, and the temperatures hovered around 30 degrees.

The Sap House at Merck Forest

The course consisted of two out-and-back segments, one long and one short (both hard). The longer segment climbed steadily up Old Town Road and Antone Road to a cabin in Clark's Clearing, then up a steep part of Antone Road, then down Wade Lot Rd to the cabin in the clearing at Ned's Place, and then up a convoluted series of trails (including a really steep singletrack section) to the top of Antone Mountain (2600). And then back. The shorter segment rose briefly from the aid station at the start/finish area, passed across an open field, and then descended (gently at first and then steeply), to Stone Lot Cabin. And then back. The 25K race included 2 of each segment. Official trail map for the property here.

Snow conditions were really good. You could usually get pretty good purchase on ascents, and you never slipped around too much on descents. Probably the first people out on the 50K race, which started 2 hours earlier than the 25K, had to break trail a bit, but there wasn't that much fresh powder and I'd imagine that it wasn't too much of a hardship for the leaders. I didn't bother wearing gaiters, and didn't need them (although there were a few descents where I kicked up enough powder to get some in my socks and shoes).

gorgeous frosted forest on the way up Antone Mountain

panoramic shot from a vista on Antone Mountain

dropping into Clark's Clearing (photo by Jennifer Garrett)

good snowshoe running conditions! (photo by Jennifer Garrett)

After my first time up and down the mountain, I lingered for too long at the aid station. But you'd have lingered too. Adam and Eliza, the amazing race directors and all-around support crew for anyone doing their event, brought out cups, one by one when needed, of HOT CIDER. Just... wow. The tasty warm liquid was so heavenly and made the perfect temperature regulator / thirst quencher. 

Bernie Gee (winner of the 25K race)

Ditching my hydration pack for the shorter out-and-back spur down to Stone Lot Cabin, I made good time across the open field (windy on the way back) and down the startlingly steep drop through the woods past the orchard. That descent required a notably tough trudge on the way back up. Back at the aid station I re-grabbed my pack (which I didn't top off, and did feel lighter now with half the water already gone) and headed back up the ridge. Then I wasted a precious few race minutes at the outhouse next to one of the trailside cabin... you know what, never mind that last part. Moving on!

the field with a view near Ned's Place

My feet were sopping wet for pretty much the entire second lap. I'm never sure exactly what the cause of that is, whether it's snow melting on my shoes and socks or just hot feet sweating too much. Either way, I do seem to reach a point in longer snowshoe races where I know that the very first thing I'm gonna do when I stop is change my socks. 

While I was out running around the white woods with tennis racquets on my feet (for over FOUR HOURS), Jen moved about the property on her backcountry skis and apparently had a terrific time on her own adventure. Her circuit coincided with our trail for about half of the big out-and-back to Antone, and she took a few photos of us when our paths crossed.

finishing (photo by Jennifer Garrett)

Since there were so few runners in either race, and each person went at their own pace and took different amounts of time at the aid station, etc., it was an inherently solo affair for most of the time. But I still spent a few moments with fellow runners Bernie Gee (who won the 25K), Ethan Nedeau (who was a really fast 25K as a drop-down from the 50K), and Candi Christenson (who has run four other snowshoe and/or mountain races this winter right around the same pace as me), as well as a friendly guy named Matthew and a young guy who'd never run in snowshoes before but did quite well, considering. There were a few guys doing the 50K who astonished me every single time I saw them because they seemed to be running really fast, even up the hills; those are some TOUGH dudes (I saw the leader sitting on the picnic table bench at the aid station with just 3 more miles to go, sighing about being pretty deep in the "pain cave"). 

Thanks to Adam and Eliza of Nor'East Trail Runs for organizing and putting on such a fun event at such a terrific site. I'd heard about Merck Forest for years and am really psyched that I finally got to experience it, and doing something I love at the same time. The course isn't easy, but it's definitely a super fun one to run. 

Results

Winter Wild: Ascutney

It's been a long time since I participated in one of the Winter Wild events... dang, it's been a REALLY long time. Like, since before I moved away from New Hampshire back in 2011, I think (see old blog post here). I guess that's one of effects of moving south. That and having only hiked in the White Mountains once since then. Anyway, this past weekend I broke the dry spell with Winter Wild Ascutney, a 5K night race in east-central Vermont.

On February 16, Jen and I headed up I-91 to the mountain in late afternoon, and I signed up in time to allow myself a good mile-long warmup jog on a loop road at the base of the ski area. I also took a second warmup once I'd put my spikes on. It was pretty cold out, so the warmups were essential for getting me warm enough to consider removing my jacket. Which was totally the right call as you definitely don't want to be wearing too much once you start running up a ski slope.

Snow conditions were highly variable, with everything underfoot from bare ice to a few inches of powder to glazy crust over half a foot of super-soft fluffy stuff. Most of us opted to wear microspikes, though some wore nanospikes, Yaktrax, or snowshoes, and a few brave souls even didn't wear any traction at all (I have no idea how that could have worked). Normally you can choose to use all sorts of gear at the Winter Wilds, but no one was allowed to use skis here at this one since it was a night race and only the lowest portion of the slope was lit up. Headlamps were required the whole way.

 headlamps in the twilight

 that's me in all black near the right edge of the photo

and they're off!

(photos by Jen Garrett)

The start went off right at twilight. The crowd of about 90 racers surged up the slope towards the vague outline of the mountain looming above us in the darkness. Within about a quarter of a mile the leaders had sprinted well ahead of the pack, but most of us remained clumped together as we ran out of breath and slowed to a mere jog.

In retrospect I wish I'd spent a little extra energy to get further ahead here. I didn't have much more in me, but soon we hit a switchbacky section on narrow singletrack and the pace slowed significantly as many of us got stuck behind people who'd gone out too fast. I didn't want to go a lot faster, but I did want to go a little faster. A consolation, however, was that the sight of dozens of headlamps winding up the slope through the trees ahead, lighting up the snow as they went, was an absolutely gorgeous sight. Magical even.

Eventually we reached a long, steady, curving climb up ski slopes, and the line stretched out slightly. I passed a few people but then got passed by a few others, including a couple of awesome young kids (maybe 10 years old?) who were running up with their parents. My watch told me it took just over 20 minutes to climb the first mile. The traction was generally pretty good, though sometimes our feet slipped backwards and the occasional patches of glare ice were a bit disconcerting.

The climb continued, and the grade steepened slightly near the top. It felt like we'd slowed to a crawl. The top of the climb was about 2/3 of the way up the mountain; we began descending from it very quickly once we reached it. The descent was definitely faster, but it took some effort to ensure safe purchase even with the spikes. I could have run with wilder abandon, but I kept thinking about how I've been on blood thinners since November (full story behind that here), and I'm not looking forward to my first bloody injury on them. My second mile actually took 22 minutes.

The final mile was far and away the most fun. Most of it was on swoopy, switchbacking singletrack trail, and again it was a delight to see the lights ahead (fewer this time) bobbing through the woods below. It was a little hard to find the right way when we came back out onto ski trails (and viewing the Strava flyby video reveals a few wrong turns in this area), but I was keeping pace with a young woman named Paige and between the two of us we managed to stay on course with no time lost.

descending under the moon; that's actually me during a warm-up jog

I finished in just under an hour, and had a blast. Jen was at the line, shivering almost uncontrollably as it took me a bit longer than I'd estimated and she'd been standing out there in the cold night air for quite a while. She got some great (if a bit understandably grainy) shots of the start on her phone, though, and I'm really grateful that she was there to support me.

start and finish were at the base of the ski trails (upper left on the map)

There seemed to be a fairly boisterous social scene in the lodge at the end, but we left before the awards. I came in about mid-pack and had no chance of winning anything, but mostly we left because we were chilled and hungry and wanted to head to a restaurant on our way home (we ended up stopping at a place in Bellows Falls). Overall it was a very well run event and I have no complaints at all. If it's on again next year, I'd definitely consider going back for more!

a snowshoe half marathon

Yesterday I ran the Nor'easter Snowshoe Half-Marathon at Viking Nordic Center in Londonderry, VT. Jen came too, and ran the 10K race, and our friends Tom and Laure also did the half. Though it was sunny out, temps were in the teens and there was a steady breeze the whole morning, so it felt quite cold and never really felt like it warmed up much. We had run a 10K race there under similar conditions a few weeks before, however, and dressed accordingly.

finishing loop 3 at Viking Nordic (photo by Jen)

The half marathon was supposed to be 4 laps of a winding course around the Nordic center (with the 10K being about half that), but due to a communication mix-up that I won't dwell on here, the course markings got switched at the last minute and no one ran the first lap correctly. At the next intersection after the mis-marked one runners had to choose which way to go, and then again at the next one, etc. I was in a small cohort of runners with one guy in sight about 50 ft. ahead and the lead woman usually just out of sight around the next curve. I followed them, hoping they were following someone ahead of them who knew where they were going. It wasn't too be, though, and my first "loop" ended up being about 5 miles.

I admit, it felt a little frustrating to be out there climbing up and down steep hills not knowing whether we were even remotely on course, but fairly quickly I adjusted my attitude and tried my best to explain what seemed to be going on to one of the race directors. The faulty marking wasn't their fault, and they rallied and corrected the course as quick as they could. Some people used their GPS watches to adjust one of their loops, though it seemed like no one ended up with the same distance (though who ever does, trail racing?). I decided to just run my next 3 loops as designed, and ended up with a 14.25-mile half marathon. Oh well. We were all just out there to have fun anyway.

(loop 2 photos courtesy Nor'east Trail Runs)

I actually felt really good most of the way. I did need to make an unfortunate time-consuming pit stop after the first lap (TMI alert!), and my energy gel break after the second lap took too long because I needed to cross an icy patch to get to my stuff, but my fitness seems to have returned (see previous blog post) and I never bonked. When I completed my third lap I passed by Jen and her phone camera at the start/finish line; she'd finished her 10K and was standing out in the cold taking pics of the other racers as they came in (getting pretty chilled in the process!). By mile 14 or so I was all alone out there, and I think I might have actually been the last person out on the course.

the first 5 miles are all loop 1

round and around them thar hills

starting out on the last loop, feeling good

I think that might have also been the farthest I've ever run on snowshoes, and I'm really pleased that I came away spent but not destroyed. I did sleep for 10 hours last night, though.

The race directors fully acknowledged the course-marking issue and actually went well out of their way to make it up to us. I'd still highly recommend making a trip to one of their events. The vibe is great, the swag is top-notch, and the snow conditions were and have been some of the best around this winter.

neato icejam scultpure along the West River
on the way home

medical stuff

At some point I need to write about a medical mystery thing that happened to me last year (because this is kind of therapy for me). Comprehensive answers have proven elusive, and since it's been an ongoing assessment I've held off saying anything. But recently a few of the component pieces have cleared up and I suppose now's as good a time as any to plunk down a synopsis.

So, the story so far:

In late summer of 2018, around Labor Day, I found myself experiencing a severe pain in my ribs and had trouble taking complete breaths. Lying on my side hurt a lot, and I even spent two nights trying to sleep upright in a recliner. I also developed a bad cough, and after a worrisome but inconclusive chest x-ray was treated for probable pneumonia. The prednisone made me feel better and I tried some runs, but the slightest uphill made me feel like I’d never run a single step before. It was a pretty weird fall.

When I didn’t really get better after 5 or 6 weeks, I went in for a CT scan of my chest. On my drive home to Greenfield from Cooley-Dickinson hospital in Northampton, I got a call from the head pulmonologist telling me to immediately turn around and go check myself into the ER. It turns out I had several blood clots and fluid buildup (pleural effusion) in my lungs. So that was a little scary.

me, hooked up to more wires than I generally prefer, and sporting some sweet hat-head hair (photo by Jennifer Garrett)

I have to note, the staff at the ER at Cooley-Dickinson was incredibly awesome, and they really made me feel like a rock star. Several of them recognized my name from the trail running guidebook, and I actually got asked, "so, are you THE Ben Kimball?" It made me blush to hear that in front of Jen, who was there with me, but still. Day: made. Trail runners are my tribe, and they are AWESOME.

Between blood thinners, rest, and natural dissolving, the clots began to go away and by mid-November my recovery was well underway (though I still needed to go in for echoes, ultrasounds, a repeat CT scan, and a full-body bone scan). I ran a test "race" (the Ray Brown 9K for K9 at Wendell State Forest) that seemed to go OK. I started to monitor my estimated VO2 Max levels using my Garmin watch and the corresponding tracking app (now I'm addicted), and the number was slowly but steadily inching its way back up from a level that might as well have been labeled "sad / so mediocre, man."

The next round of scans looked promising. The clots were definitely shrinking on their own and the pleural effusion was shrinking too. By the start of the new year I could run hills again, though I was stopping a lot to let my HR recover and make sure I didn't overdo it. So far so good. Today I feel pretty close to being back to normal, though I'm still carrying around some extra weight from all the lack of exercise in the fall.

Last week I had another follow-up chest x-ray and the pleural effusion appeared all but gone. Whew. I still have one more round of scans in another month, but for the moment it looks OK. 

The big question remains, though: why did it happen? There's no obvious answer. I take diggers occasionally while trail running, but I don't recall anything too acute last year. What I DO remember was hitting my chest with the corner of my car door, hard, when I opened it while parked on a slope. The door flew back at me and the sharp metal top corner hit me right in the side. Ouch. Maybe a fracture? Who knows. The bone scan didn't show anything conclusive. My blood didn't show any tendencies towards clotting and there's nothing in my family history. And I was told at my most recent visit to the hospital that I "have the vitals of a teenager" (which I admit made me feel really damn good). 

So, an "unprovoked" blood clotting episode then. Basically for me that means that I get to be on blood thinners for life. Which is fine. I can deal with that. Better than the alternative of another clot. That said, I've already done what I do very often -- cut myself on a briar while on a trail run -- and this was how I bled for about half an hour afterwards: 

my blood is really watery and orange now, and even small cuts just won't stop bleeding;
fortunately I love horror movies, and this is some good gore!

I'm not sure what happens next. I've got my fingers crossed that it was a one-and-done episode, but the case isn't closed just yet. Time will tell. Maybe. 

Another Year Around The Sun

This collage of covers of all the 2018 issues of The Sugarloaf Sun, the newsletter of the Sugarloaf Mountain Athletic Club, brings back a lot of memories for me. Mostly good ones, too, fortunately. You can browse many other back issues of the newsletter from the archive list on the club's website here. 

Enduring the Earlydark Days

Technically the darkest day of the year is the one with, naturally, the least amount of daylight (i.e., Winter Solstice), which was Friday, Dec. 21. But for those of us in the Pioneer Valley region of western MA, the earliest sunsets of 2018 fell on Dec. 8 and 9, when the daytimes ended at 4:16 p.m. For the six days before and the six days after, the sunsets occurred at 4:17 p.m. And for those of us who are in no way morning people, that two-week window from Dec. 2 to Dec. 15 was the true darkest time of the year. I do my runs in the evenings after work, and I’m more affected by that early December time of earlydark than I am by the upcoming mid-January days when it may seem darker (likely due to the limiting factors of ice and snow on our regular running routes).

To be clear, I’m not complaining. I actually like the dark, and don’t mind if I need to bundle up, pop on a headlamp, or don reflective bands to finish a run. It’s just part of life here in New England. And I quite like life here in New England. We come up with ways to motivate ourselves and keep training, and before we know it the earlydark days are done.

Which isn’t to say there aren’t still other challenges. Last year I wrote an article in my running club's newsletter specifically about how I generally don’t find November as tough to take as many others seem to (see p. 28 here). It probably helps that it’s my birthday month, and I’m more or less at peace with aging (we’re human; it’s what we do). This year, however, November tested even me.

With weeks of below average temps and several early snowfalls that took their sweet time melting, we runners had to tap into our Winter Motivation reserves about a month or two ahead of time. Thanksgiving morning races in particular presented an existential conundrum: get up and overdress for running because it was ten degrees out and windy with snow/ice on most surfaces, or, you know... don’t do that. To their credit, many local runners chose the admirable, tough-as-nails option and got out the door. That is a tribe I want to be a part of!

NOTE: This post is an excerpt from a column in the latest issue of the newsletter that I'm the editor for, The Sugarloaf Sun (a publication of the Sugarloaf Mountain Athletic Club). See the rest of that issue here on the club's website: