The Bear 100: Unmasking the Impostor

"I just decided to do it and then went and did it" 

- Me to anyone who would listen Post-Bear - 

"No one on the corner has swagger like us

Hit me on my burner prepaid wireless

We pack and deliver like UPS trucks

Already going to hell, just pumping that gas" 

- MIA - Paper Planes -

Have you ever heard one single song for 34 and a half hours?

I have.

Have you ever thought you were something other than you are despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary?

I have.

Utah Mornings - Me

Putting the Bear 100 into proper context I feel like it was kind of my coming out party. I'm a rudely privileged person and I go through life in some intoxicated level of comfort, but I've often had this nagging feeling that I don't belong, that I'm not "enough" for some of the things that I purport to be. Not least of all Ultra-marathons. Not a race goes by where I don't think that I've scraped through by the skin of my teeth, or somehow dishonored the tradition by not being properly prepared and being the guy who barely makes it in rough shape.

Wikipedia (yes, I know...) defines Impostor Syndrome as... "a psychological pattern in which an individual doubts their accomplishments and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a 'fraud'." That about sums it up; this sport I love has been for me an exercise in living this truth and hoping against hope that I might someday trick myself into thinking something different about myself.  If the Bear 100 did nothing else I think it finally might have put that to bed. I spent a lot of time this year getting right from injury and made plans for the aspects of the Bear that would pose new and exciting challenges vs. what I had experienced before. I showed up healthy, rested and focused on what I had decided to accomplish. And you know what? I just went out and accomplished it.

I paced smartly from the start, easing into the early miles and climbs, dutifully consuming calories even when it seemed like a bad idea. I studiously replaced calories expelled in distress, I micro-managed digestive issues and bargained with myself on what I really needed, what I could withstand and what I could consume. And then, when the early investments I had made in myself started paying off I hit the switch. If the numbers are to be believed I gained 65 places between mile 61.5 and 100. It was easily the most exhilarating part of the race (of any race), compounded by the unexpected appearance of friends and an escort with 8 miles to go. Everything hurt and nothing hurt. I just did it.

I've never felt more validated by any running experience and perhaps some of that is to do with taking the step of tackling such a goal alone. No crew, no pacers (except unplanned, after the conclusion was beyond foregone) and nowhere to hide. It was all me, and I would either be enough or I wouldn't.

Falling into run - Ely Gerbin

There isn't really a direct antonym for impostor, but if there was I would probably now call myself that, because now I sort of get the feeling that it's what I am.

2015: A Retrospective

On the eve of the Orcas 50k, as with any race, I find myself rabidly consuming race reports from the previous year. The course is fairly well etched into my being at this point - having participated 3 out of the last 3 years - but I always like to share in the experiences of others to try out a new perspective. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon my own report. It is fun to read and re-live this former glory and it makes me feel its perhaps worth picking this whole blogging thing up once more - if for nothing more than posterity.

Updating some of the lists on the right made me realize that I hadn't really given myself space to reflect on the deeds of yesteryear and the growth and progress that resulted.

Ticking off DNS after DNF initially made me doubt myself. Early 2015 was something of a comedy of errors. A false-start or a soft-launch? I'm trending toward the latter as I stand on the precipice of my 2016 'running season'. There are tales in there that I could no doubt tease out. Like digestive system lessons at White River or a phantom jackal encounter in the deep Siskyou at Pine to Palm. If you know me I've probably shared many of these tidbits, and if not then we should probably grab a beer some time.

I'm moved to contemplate the cyclical nature of life. Humans seem to crave renewal through repetition. Be it in their personal lives, political landscape, sporting endeavors or the very fundamental nature of time itself. Orcas Island is fast becoming this for me. It feels like an old friend that I'm bursting with excitement to visit and at the same time like a stern teacher ready to dispense wisdom, truth and justice. I will be measured, I will be examined, I will prevail. But there's probably something about me that changes as I emerge from the fog of the Rosario Strait each February.

Right now sitting in the comfort and warmth of civilized Seattle I can almost feel something in me arcing and buzzing as it prepares for its yearly pilgrimage. I can almost smell the moss. Life and Running are for me cyclical endeavors and I'm increasingly thinking that in this respect Orcas Island is that sweet spot where you can almost see the Ouroboros devouring its tail...

...oh, and this year I got into Western States.

Unpacking the Orcas Island Experience (Warning: Nonsense!)

Photos by Ian Burton unless noted

Some of the best things in life are free, like having your super swell girlfriend accept your marriage proposal. Others are damn hard work and sometimes require monumental effort (presumably like nurturing and sustaining said marriage). The Orcas Island 50k ranks somewhere toward the latter end of that scale.

The view from the deck of our Island abode.
Not pictured: Whales, Ferries, Running, Proposal...

Island days run like mainland months it seems and as I sit here having just this evening physically unpacked from Orcas I find myself still pondering how to mentally unpack a year in the San Juan Islands. It would be easy for this to simply be a pro forma race report with a rote blow-by-blow of how the race went for me and what it means in the context of my training and or goals but somehow the 10th iteration of Rainshadow Running's iconic race pair took on a greater meaning for me.

It was sometime around when the lottery was held that I blocked out Jan 30 - Feb 8 on my calendar for the Orcas 25k & 50k. I had a couple friends set to run the 25k, a couple friends and myself scheduled to run the 50k so why not make a week of it? Of course as it turned out I had significantly more than a couple friends with which I rode the ferry, was provided various lodgings by, shared in chili, rib, loin, bacon, egg, potato, beer and baked goods feasts with. And even more teammates and new and old friends who ran tough trails in alternately scintillating and foreboding conditions and shared yet more feasting on pizza, beer and ill-advised dance moves (on my part at least). And then there were the choice few with whom I shared a Doe Bay soak and Schvitz.   Finally there was the one who accepted the aforementioned proposal of marriage - thanks for topping the perfect Island experience and rendering the actual running outcome an academic footnote.

Doe Bay Spa & Soaking Tubs - Not to be missed!

All that being said there was a lot of running had by a lot of stellar folk, a lot of hard battles waged and won on the trail, Team 7hills, replete with exquisite new singlets courtesy Seven Hill Running Shop and Pearl Izumi had a Monster showing with a staggering 40% of the top 10 and solid showings across the board in athletic prowess, fortitude and smarts (knowing to call it quits and lick wounds). Particular shout-outs reserved for Phil 'I smell a comeback' Kochik and Chris 'gutting out a tough one' Barry!

Also, major props for Andrew Miller's repeat victory; perhaps not as statistically unlikely as a Super Bowl repeat but.... no, it's still too soon. And it's always fun to see a couple former Sounders out there, with Roger Levesque posting a stout #28 and Nate Jaqua nabbing 2nd place - watch out for these pro's! The women's race appeared to contain even more intrigue this year with a reportedly breathless sprint between 2nd and 3rd place finishers Olga Nevtrinos and Emily Morehouse in the final seconds.

Feeling strong and smooth coming out of Mountain Lake Aid
Photo - Glenn Tachiyama

As for myself, armchair punditry aside, I had a bit of a mixed day. I was running well and what I thought was smart coming through Aid #1 at Mountain Lake. I had taken ample hiking breaks on the road section and let the race flow by me as pace dictated. I felt like I was running my race and not getting swept along as I so often do. Hindsight would lambaste me for not taking salt at Aid #1, but I am not sure this was solely to blame for my eventual capitulation. In any case, it was rumored that there weren't S-caps to be had here. Around mile 12, on the muddy bomb down Pickett just a couple shy of Aid #2 my left calf began to cramp up. It was never greatly debilitating and a quick stop and stretch seemed to do the trick. But it kept coming back. I took a couple of S-caps provided by a fellow runner and things eventually seemed to resolve. But I think even by Aid #2 it was too late. Stubbornness had caused the rest of my leg to compensate in ways I wasn't trained to do and before long descending became something of a chore and borderline painful. By about mile 19, somewhere between Mt. Pickett and North Arch I was calculating where I might need to bail in order to most quickly engage in pizza, beer and begin my recovery. Seeing Gretchen killing it out there and getting roadside cheers from Joe and Ann buoyed my spirits and banished such thoughts.

Some soul searching and stretching at the South End Campground - some 2-300 yards from Camp - yielded a seemingly insurmountable left knee area ache on the downhill. But at the same time nothing was amiss on the uphill, I was still hiking like a true mountain man (Phil tells me the correct term is Lumbersexual). Getting some timely stretching advice and encouragement from Dave Melanson (of Project Talaria) and his friend Mary made me believe again and seeing Glenn at the bridge was the icing on the cake even if the slippery bridge and my leaden legs rendered the resulting photos somewhat tepid on my part (nothing but love for the awesome work you do Glenn, I'm just waiting for the day when I have something to contribute to that too!). I was officially back on track... until I wasn't.

Once out of sight progress to North Arch was achingly slow in the literal sense. But then again once things turned uphill hope was restored. A pep talk from friends and family at Aid #3 and a boatload of snack foods gave way to a rationalization that most of the rest of the course was climbing (FALSE!) and so off I went to the Power-line Climb and damned if it didn't feel great and I didn't start to pass people again... until it and I actually didn't. Somewhere around the top of the Power-line my climbing legs gave out and what I'd thought to be a manageable hamstring issue turned out to be an IT band. Much like my first time out, the otherwise unparalleled cruise from Power-line to Mt. Constitution ended with a peg-legged crawl to a car ride down from Aid #4. But it was OK. Somehow it didn't matter and it was just as enjoyable as it could have otherwise been.

I'm healing up already and I think that despite stubbornness and suggestibility I didn't too any long-term damage. The calf is already well on the mend and my thoughts are with the broken wrist and punctured Achilles tendon (?) that were sustained elsewhere on the course. By comparison I can handle a week or so of being humbled by a flight of stairs or a gentle slope. I'll sure as hell be back at it in no time and I'm not going to wait to block out that week for 2016. Although seeing as we live in the future these days I'll actually just set it to be a 'recurring event'.

The running, the pizza, the dancing, the spa, the feasts, the rest and all the love you can handle are what awaits the intrepid Island traveler. There's so much more to a week in the San Juans, but for that I'd have to spin you a yarn over a run, a beer or both.

#Team7Hills + finery - join here and check out the shop!
Photo - Glenn Tachiyama

The Orcas Island Chamber of Commerce Salutes you!

Camp Moran - site of much finishing, high-fiving and general cavorting

Another one in the books - DNF 2 of 2 for 2015.
I'm coming for you Gorge 100k, and this time its personal

Carkeek 12 Hour Tomfoolery

I hadn’t ever run a time limited race before. I’ve sure trained at Carkeek Park a lot though, seeing as its right on my doorstep. It is a great North Seattle park, a mini trail-oasis. Perfect to get your fix of trails and a decent bit of vert with some 423 feet per 1.93 mile loop without sinking most of a day driving out and back to a trail head. Its the urban equivalent of Mt. Si repeats; you can never do just one.

So it was with great enthusiasm that I signed up for the Carkeek 12 hour as I’d missed out on the reputably sublime Cottontail 6 & 12hr in the spring. Matt & Kerri Stebbins put on these two awesome local races in addition to all their work with the ever growing Rainshadow Running and managing their own trail stewardship non-profit Endless Trails. Knowing Matt and Kerri from Rainshadow events and the Trail Running Film Festival I had expected awesomeness, and I’m happy to say I was not disappointed. The care and time that these two put into their events is as warming and satisfying as the delicious soups that were provided by local participants and friends. What’s the best part about the Endless Trails ethos of fun and encouragement toward EPIC LOOPS? Well that would be the general infectiousness of it all. I am certainly not entirely a Halloween humbug, but I’m often hard pressed to get into the spirit of costumery. Needless to say, not only did I bring a costume to the Carkeek 12 hour but I rocked that baby for at least 2 whole loops. The jury is still out on this but I’m starting to think that a terrycloth robe might not be ideal performance wear despite rigorous testing. Regardless, the dude abides. I don’t know about you but I take comfort in that.

I guess there was some running involved and I’ll do my best to make some sense of that. In the context of the 2014 season, this race was supposed to be everything it purported to be. My time to relax, take stock and think about all the things I’ve achieved this year whilst celebrating the community that I’ve so enjoyed becoming a part of. I made a deal with myself that I would keep going as long as I was still enjoying myself and gosh darnit if I didn’t stick to that.

The race had one of the more leisurely starts in recent memory. Part of this was due to the fact that the start line was a sub-5 minute drive from my home, and another part was the relaxed attitude of the folks present. There were many that ran in costumes both from the start and for the entire duration. There was a short briefing pre-race (tips on how to not get lost in the expansive acreage) and then we were shooed out onto the trail. I was futzing with my headlamp or mug or something because I was last onto the trail. I caught myself trying to play catch up and passed a couple of people heading from the start to the first climb of note (the south ridge stairs provide one of the two (or three if you want to quibble) real climbs in the loop). I leapt up the first 4 steps and then checked my aggression at the door. What the hell was I thinking? This wasn’t the time, the place or the race to be acting so foolishly. This was to be the first of many ‘revelations’ I would have about running a timed loop course. I would sagely opine to anyone who would listen: “I figured it out, it doesn’t matter how fast you go we’re all going to finish at the same time.”

I can proudly and honestly state that after that first burst of misplaced enthusiasm I did not run another step of uphill (well alright, except for the less steep ones but shhh!). I stuck it into easy gear and cruised along as swift as my body would take me. It didn’t help that my hamstrings and glutes came pre-trashed from a perhaps ill-advised midweek circuit training boot camp with Team 7hills and the fine folks at Ian Fitness - Magnolia (a great resource for cross training and I look forward to getting strong with them over winter) but I found a rhythm that I felt I could stick with all day if needed.

The first 4 or so loops were gone in the blink of an eye. Starting before dawn will do that. I had strategized (still not quite able to let it go!) on stopping every 2 loops for the first 10 loops and then stopping every loop thereafter to feast, cavort and otherwise schmooze the aid-station table. Conditions had other ideas however. The first loop was far too warm for the jacket I’d rolled out with, the second loop was my designated feasting loop and the third was when I dropped my headlamp off. On the 4th I kind of just reflexively pulled into the aid station and managed one tortilla chip before I realized I didn’t really need anything. My plan was falling apart. From loops 4 through 10 I managed to right the ship and get on my 2-loop stopping schedule. After loop 11 it was costume time! I had made the mistake of leaving my bathrobe in the car on the other side of the parking lot. The glasses were there, Larry’s homework was nicely corrected in my North Face duffel at the aid station but I’d forgotten the bloody robe! Well I was invested now so I had to go get it from the car for the full Dude experience. I got there and saw my 2Toms Sports Shield (the best performance lube in sports IMHO!) sitting on the passenger seat. Oh crap… there’s always something that gets missed. It wasn’t a wet day, the weather cooperated superbly but still there was a nagging feeling that the humidity and my sweat level could lead to some issues. I decided to apply to the danger-zones and went out for a couple luxurious lounge-worthy loops of Lebowski-inspired loping.

Two loops in the costume and it was time to kick it a little. Grazing at the park shelter I sampled some amazing soups, partook of excellent snackage in the form of chips, bagels and oodles of leftover Halloween candy and before I knew it the 6 hour runners were starting to show up and look all clean and limber all over my sweaty gorging festival. Not wanting to be made a fool of I took off for another loop after checking in with my buddies Glenn, Chris and Sophie and I was actually pretty happy with how I was running still. Only two or three 6 hour folks managed to pass me on that first loop even though one of them happened to be grossly overweight, wearing jeans and sipping on a Coors Light tall-boy (spoiler alert: it was merely a pretty involved and expertly executed costume, I think he ran for at least 4 loops in it).

It was around this time that I noticed a tingling feeling in my thighs… ummm, I mean I had started to chafe. My absent-minded preparation had led to a deteriorating situation. Applying lube 11 laps in was too little too late. I was undone by my old nemesis once more (at least my nipples remained mostly intact). This was somewhere around loop 14 and I was developing a bit of a cowboy running gait. The next stop was a long one and I sat down and dipped an entire bagel in my Mr. T mug of soup. I was pretty content but then Vivian Doorn (she of the excellent WA ultra-pedigree and indomitable midnight Cascade Crest 100 roadside support) told me it was time to go. No question about it just ‘come on, time to go’ and to be honest I didn’t have it in me to argue. It was time to go. Sitting around wasn’t going to do me any good when I inexplicably had an arbitrary distance goal to achieve (the Stebbinses are experts at convincing you to round out your distance). I ran alongside her for a few yards then got all competitive and plowed through for two loops without stopping but the chafing wouldn’t let me be. I managed to power through the first 7 or 8 hours with busted glutes but for the next hour I was laid low by the raw force of friction. After 16 I was starting to hit that magical threshold of ‘keep going as long as I was still enjoying myself’.

Cassie turned up on her Saturday run and we chatted and shared tales of our day - hers were less repetitive. She joined me for loop 17, it was nice to have a fresh person to talk to and at some point Chris and Sophie turned up too but they were too spry for me. Cassie left me halfway, and right after I saw some park employees disemboweling salmon that had erred in their run up Piper’s Creek into shallow water I realized I was done. I recalled the sight and sound of them thrashing around fruitlessly earlier in the day. It was a 50-50 shot and they had chosen wrong. They sure kept trying to swim in inch-deep water though. It is kind of tragic in a way and I wonder if through that they missed their chance to spawn. Perhaps their gutting was an act of mercy in the end. I’m sure there’s some lesson in there and perhaps a greater philosopher than I can tease out some relevant correlation to our lives as ultrarunners or in general and the dull, pointless thrashing of a fish in shallow water. For my purposes it will suffice to just fall back on some kind of circle of life nonsense…

...where was I? Oh yes! Fun and frolicking on the trails of our fair city. Loop 17 and the fun part was transitioning from the running to the socializing. As such I was done. Matt, as it his wont, had other ideas and encouraged a ‘short loop’. This devilry is created, I presume, with the sole intention of giving the organisers a convenient way to goad tiring runners into doing just that little bit more, and so I did. 17 Carkeek loops and one short loop, I had 2 or 3 hours left on the clock but it didn’t matter. I wanted to keep enjoying the experience and the way to do so was to kick back and shoot the breeze with old friends and new. Also, delicious soup.

As proceedings came to a close it became clear that Adam Hewey’s record would stand for another year, so he sloped off to crack some champagne and slowly but surely the ranks of retiring revellers swelled to breaking point, allowing for mass goading of the leaders into short loop after short loop as the seconds dwindled. Special mention to winners Alex Swenson, Kay Allen (12 hour), Chris Barry and Abbey Hendricks (6 hour). Your Count Chocula was well earned.

So I was left to reflect on all I’ve achieved this year in my relatively short running career (if one can call it that). I’ve been busy in 2014, racing or volunteering at least 1 ultra race per month all year. I’ve bested old PRs and smashed personal distance goals but I think the lasting thing I’ve gained from it all is the sense of community that trail running folks bring to the table. The Carkeek 12 hour race experience served as a perfect microcosm of that for me and I bet the Cottontail will too. Bring your pride, bring your goals and bring your tenacity, but most of all bring your sweetest mug and your funniest costume and prepare to be supported, cajoled and fed until you just about can’t take any more. I know I’ll be back. Oh and did I mention, delicious soup?