75 Days - The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a person's determination

Hey guys! Thank you for visiting my site. Those of you who know me are well aware of my ongoing running obsession. This site is devoted to telling the tales of the adventures that come with my ultra races. To learn more about myself and ultrarunning, keep reading!










"Sweetie?"

If this experience of being sick has taught me anything, it has taught me that our health is our responsibility... no one elses. Doctors are there to be a guide, but you really can't depend on them alone to cure you. Sometimes it is important to take matters into your own hands.

Tomorrow morning is it... the Leona Divide 50 Miler take 3!
Back to the doctor again on Thursday. When would it end? Well, it did... on Thursday, finally.
I sat in Dr. Hacopian's office, waiting nervously. I'm not sure why I was nervous... I've never been swayed too much one way or the other by my doctor's opinion of my condition. But she had always been really supportive of my goals, even if they had seemed a little out of the ordinary. She examined the results of my spirometer test and went over my chart.

This morning, I walked into my first official gym since I began CrossFit. I thought I was in an alternate universe as I watched zombie gym rats monotonously and slowly moving weights back and forth on the machines, and reading magazines as they rode on their stationary bikes. Boy was I about to make my entrance.

"Alright kids... when the music stops, take a seat. If you end up having nowhere to sit, then you are out."I like being controversial. I like doing things that raises people's eyebrows. I like it even more when I am able to prove a point by doing something completely out of the ordinary.
I'll admit, I'm a little down, at least as far as ultrarunning is concerned. Between a DNF last weekend, my crew falling apart for KEYS and the inability to train due to my lungs, things have not exactly been going as planned. But that's just it. Being successful in this sport requires you to be able to think on your feet and problem solve. The ability to work through the unexpected can make or break you. I have some decisions to make.






"I think I choked," I admitted honestly to Coach LeClair in class yesterday.
I layed on the floor of my bathroom this morning, feeling as close to death as possible. I was wheezing and coughing, my legs were shaking as I crawled towards the toilet feeling as if any moment I was about to lose the sushi dinner that I had the night before. I glanced down at my stopwatch... 21:51. Could that be right? Had I really just PRed my 5k by over 2 minutes?
The rain poured down on my little Toyota Echo as I fought through traffic to get to Ojai. I glanced at the car to my left. A well put together businessman chatted away carelessly on his bluetooth. His wife was probably home making dinner. The car on my left was full of 3 young beautiful girls, maybe wannabe actresses. Their evening would take them somewhere different. Maybe to Hollywood to dance their cares away in hopes of being 'discovered.' I turned my windshield wipers on high as I watched the predicted arrival time on my new GPS get later and later. What was I doing?
Named after Southern California's Santa Ana Canyon and a fixture of local legend and literature, the Santa Ana is a blustery, dry and warm (often hot) wind that blows out of the desert. In Raymond Chandler's story Red Wind, the title being one of the offshore wind's many nicknames, the Santa Anas were introduced as "those hot dry [winds] that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen." Local legends associate the hot, dry winds with homicides and earthquakes, but these are myths.
No one can really predict the whens and whys of the Santa Ana winds. The only thing predictable about them is their unpredictability. They can range from hot to cold and create a great deal of damage.
In class this morning, Coach LeClair asked us all to come outside for our warm up. What today? I thought. Indian runs? Sprint 800 meters? "I want you all to find something red and bring it back," he said. I quickly eyed a fellow classmate who was wearing a red jacket. Could I run faster than her? Probably, but when I caught her she would most definitely kick my butt. Hmmm.... "It cannot be something that you or someone else is wearing," continued Eric. Had he read my mind? "It cannot be something from your car and it cannot be a stop sign. These doors close at 10 minutes. You have that much time to get back here with your red object. Go!"
As we ran through the darkness, a beautiful red sunrise teased us in the distance. Too bad I couldn't bring that back. What was it that they say..? "Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in morning sailors take warning."
It feels like a time for warning. I am not sure why exactly but change is in the air. I feel it as clear as that crisp cool air that flowed in and out of my lungs as I fought to find my red object this morning and I feel it as distinctly as the Santa Anas that blow in at night, beating the tree branches against my window. It is a strange time for all of us right now.
Tomorrow night will be a night of great adventure. I will not be curled up in my bed, sleeping soundly as I usually am on a Friday night. If all goes as planned, come early Saturday morning, I will finally stumble into my apartment, enjoy my warm covers like never before, listen to the rain that promises to visit us for the next few days and sleep with a Shih Tzu and a large, well earned Round Table pizza by my side. I wonder how early Round Table delivers. Details of my adventure to come!
I hopped around the gym, holding my left foot in pain. I knew that my squat thrusters weren't perfect, but there was really no reason that Coach LeClair should have clubbed me in the foot with the 45 lb bar. Okay fine, maybe he didn't beat me. It is possible that he was actually on the other side of the room when I dropped the bar on my foot. After a short break, I laced back on my shoe and headed back in. I went straight for the bar again. My toes had hurt a lot worse than this at about mile 75 of Javelina and no bones were sticking out so there was really no reason to quit. Coach expected me to finish too, I could see that in his eyes. Kellie came over and talked me through my last 15 or so and then it was off to the bar as I clumsily attempted 30 pull ups - 'attempted' being the key word there. At the end of the WOD, I felt like I had completed a little ultra.

On Thursday night, as Andy and I enjoyed a great sushi dinner, a text message came through on his phone. "They announced our start times for Coyote Two Moon," he said.
The race director, Chris, assigns groups based on what he thinks your finish times for the course will be and all 100kers are given a time that will force them to run through the entire night. The 100 milers are given one that will make them run through two nights, hense the 'Coyote Two Moons' name. I automatically logged on to the computer as soon as I got home. I was in K3, which would give me 20 hours to finish the course. Let me put this in perspective. I was given a 4 hour handicap to Donn and Brian was only given a 2 hour handicap to me. I was honored by Chris' faith in me but scared, to say the least.
Two trails and two different sets of friends awaited me as I rose from my bed on Saturday morning and welcomed my weekend. I met Andy at his place a few minutes before 7 and shortly, we were covering Sierra Madre on foot. After dropping my car off at the trailhead we ran to the start of the Mt. Wilson training. Coach LeClair lead us in some hill repeats on steep terrain just left of the trailhead. I tried to stay towards the front of the pack, but I was also holding back a bit since I knew that afterwards, I would have to spend most of my morning keeping up with Andy. After two repeats, Andy and I ran to Gary Hillard's house, the race director for Mt. Disappointment. Today he would host a run up Mt. Wilson in association with a picnic for the So Cal Ultrarunning Series awards. Andy and I, along with a local man named Dave, were assigned the task of marking the course.
Running with the two of them was a stronger pace than what I was used to running on my Saturday mornings, but at the same time, it was completely manageable. I know that Andy was running slow due to the fact that he was still recovering from HURT so he was not up to his usual speed, but as we ran, I relaxed my legs into every stride and every push of my muscles. This was my pace now. It was actually rather nice.
As we ran back down the mountain, familiar faces past us on the way up. We were the first ones to arrive at the picnic.
"Summer!" a familiar voice called out. It was Jill, a talented ultrarunner that I met at Mt. Disappointment. Jill is a neat person. She is a beautiful woman in her early 40s who looks like she is 30. She is always dressed in bright colors and cute running skirts, but don't let her outward image fool you. She kicks ass on the trails. "We are in the same group for Coyote!"
Oh thank God, I thought. It would be challenging to stay with Jill, but if I could manage it, I now had a friend to take me through the night. My nerves were suddenly calmed.
After the picnic and awards, I headed off to work a few hours before enjoying an evening of UFC fighting... wow, it surprised me how much I actually enjoyed watching that!
This morning, I met Kathy at the Backbone Trailhead. It had been too long. She was running with a group called the New Basin Blues and they welcomed me into their club immediately and even gave me a waterbottle. We were off for a 10 mile run, which was coincidentally about the same distance that I covered the day before, but what a different day it would be. I will let the video tell our story!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tT5ISQMBxRY&feature=channel_page
This weekend reminded me of the importance of running with others and adjusting my pace accordingly. My year of running is not just a commitment to myself, it is a commitment to Donn at San Diego, Dmitry at Western States and Dean at Badwater. That is a wide range of ability levels including strenghts and weaknesses that I need to prepare myself for. Regardless, some days are about pushing your body to extremes and training hard, and some are just about enjoying the day and the people that come with it. Sometimes the day is simply not about you, and by accepting that, there is something greater to be found.
Have you ever seen one of those horror movies like Jeepers Creepers or Silence of the Lambs where the killer plays soothing calm or classical music as he tortures his victims? It always makes the scenes that much more terrible. That's how I felt this morning in my CrossFit class as Coach LeClair opted for some Bob Marley as we were lead through five rounds of 21 push ups, 21 hanging knees to elbows and 21 double unders (or 42 singles). There was actually a point during my horrible attempt at push ups at round 4 where my arms were failing and I couldn't for the life of me make my mind work with the rest of my muscles to keep from 'peeling up' that I actually wished I could be one of those horror movie victims instead because really, all I would have to do in that scenario is lay there.

It was the Monday before New Years and I struggled with my bags aboard my Delta flight back to Los Angeles. Sammie was of course a nervous wreck as I slid her underneath the seat in front of me and packed away my laptop. A thin, runner looking guy took the seat next to me. As I tried unsuccessfully to keep Sammie from chewing through her carrier, we began to make small talk. His name was Mike and he was an ultrarunner too. In fact, Avalon was going to be his first 50 miler. His goal was to run the Angeles Crest 100, hopefully this year. We ran into each other during the race and last night, he located me on Facebook. And just like that, another new friendship was born.

I get very frustated with sick people. Not the legitimately sick ones that have done everything to take care of their bodies and still end up with something going wrong once in a while, but the people like my coworkers who I see munch down McDonalds every day and catch every cold and flu under the sun, forcing the healthy folks to cover in their absense. I certainly don't suck down fast food, but there is such thing as not taking care of your body by pushing it too hard, and that is what I have done.
Russell Hays
As a slightly more conscious version of myself begins to remember the events of New Years, I realize that I left out so much, and yet how could I possibly retell what I experienced out there? January 1st for most people is about making resolutions. For the people that surrounded me that day, it was simply about living out commitments. I had fun running around that track, pushing myself to extremes, chasing other gifted runners and seeing how I stacked up, but I felt lucky and honored to be spending that time with the people that were out on that course.




It was a cold morning, colder than Southern California usually sees. The mountains behind our CrossFit facility were painted with snow from the storms that we have had the past few days. Coach LeClair sent us out for our warm up and I opted to run. I was out the door quickly, following another strong runner in our class. Being the ultrarunner in the group, I couldn't let him beat me around the block. I stayed on his heels, but he was fast. As I rounded the last corner, I felt my air passages start to close up from the exertion as well as the cold air. "Crap," I thought. "asthma attack."
"SOS," said Coach LeClair as 8 tough men and 5 just as fierce women gathered around him on a cold Saturday morning. "That is what we have traditionally called this class. It stands for 'Suffering on Saturdays."
As I bent down in my closet this morning to pick out a pair of shoes accomodating to my Ridgecrest blister, I realized for a split second that I might be stuck. My legs didn't want to push me back up and my arms let out a little 'Screw you!' in their own way when I tried to utilize them. In a slow 'I just ran 50 miles' sort of way, I inched my way up.



The student becomes the teacher becomes the student... if you are living life the right way I think this is constantly the case. If you are always learning, you are never passing along your knowlege. If you are always teaching, then you are ignoring the words of wisdom surrounding you each day.



It might not actually lead you to where you think. You may end up somewhere better...
My good friend and ultrarunning mentor Dmitry told me that if I could manage a 100 mile week about 6 weeks prior to Javelina, it could potentially take my time in the race down by an hour. I have been pounding the trails, pavements and tredmills since Saturday in attempt to make that happen. As of this morning, I am at mile 73, with 1 night and 3 days to go to finish 27 more miles. Seems like not such a great task, huh? But in all honesty, as far as I have made it, my legs are tired, I am mentally spent and I wonder how much longer I can keep up this act. I am starting to think that Dmitry told me to do this for the mental aspect rather than the physical one.

It was September 13th - a day that my friends and I had been waiting for. This was the day of the Angeles Crest 100 miler. I remembered back to the year before when I paced Mike. It was hard for me to keep up with him, even as just a pacer. Today 3 of my friends would take on the brave task of pacing as well.

It was approximately 2:45am on Sunday morning when I was woken by a tapping on my window. It took me a few minutes to realize where I was. I looked outside of my rental car and there was Dmitry's first leg pacer, peering in at me and shining a bright flashlight in my face.
I was exiting on Santa Monica Blvd, headed towards the hospital when my cell phone rang. It was Jean.

Eight years ago, when I took my road trip from Atlanta to LA, I was looking for some kind of sign that I was supposed to stay here. I had a fresh lotus flower tattoo on my back and as we drove through Hollywood, suddenly I saw a huge lotus festival going on. I knew I was home.

I am at mile 40 of a 50 miler right now. It's one of those tough, Mt Disappointment type races and I am in so much pain that I can hardly put one foot in front of the other. I want to quit. But because I have been here before I can see this for what it is. I know that mile 50, although it seems so far away, it really isn't at all and at the end of this race lies clarity and happiness.






I am writing this on hotel stationary because I do not want to forget a moment of this day. Today has been the best day of my life. Tomorrow promises to somehow be even better. I am in a hotel in Furnace Creek, 17 miles from the start line of the infamous Badwater Ultramarathon.






I could not be more excited about the decision to run my first 100 mile race. After almost a week long break, I am back in full swing, upping my mileage. Fortunately I was off early enough last night to make the drive out to Phidippides for an evening run.


On Saturday, 8 adventurers take off for different conquests. Brian, Bob, Jim and I will tackle the Wild Wild West 50k, the Frog and the Moose will also take on parts of those trails. Donn and Ko head up North to run the Miwok 100k. There will be many stories to tell after this weekend. It has been an exciting month to say the least. I never thought that I could complete 3 ultras in the span of 6 weeks. This weekend will be a fun run with friends, no focus on time, just on pure enjoyment.

It is a question that all ultrarunners are asked from time to time. I think the general thought is that if you have to run 50 - 100 miles, what exactly is it that you are running from? A bad childhood? A dead end job? For me it is none of those things. I like to think that I am running towards something. Everyone has something that makes them feel whole. The most that we can hope for in life it to find that thing, embrace it and use it for all it's worth. And this is what defines an ultrarunner.





"Hey guys... should we tell all those people driving to church down there that God is up here?" We all stared into the Easter morning sunrise that rendered most of us temporarily speechless."Ah... and there it is!" said Jim. I gave him a questioning look as he continued. "The Phidippides retirement home. Isn't it beautiful?"

Brian and I drove home from our dinner at Sante (his new favorite restaurant) around 9:30 - a late hour for us. But with daylight savings occuring the day before, it did not feel so late at all.

It was exciting to me to travel all the way to Florida for a race. I am so used to showing up to an ultra now, practically knowing everyone. I knew this time would be different. As I walked into the race briefing and up to the front of the room to obtain my goodie bag, I remember thinking, 'Wow, this is my first race in a very long time where no one here even knows my name." My thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind me...


Hi Jason
Last week I broke my toe. This week I switched from the 50 miler to the 100k.


I left my house at 5:30pm to be able to make it to Phidippides by 6:30. Usually it is only about a 30 minute drive, but tonight the rain would change that. The usual dry and pleasant weather in Los Angeles had transformed itself into a somewhat heavy downpour of rain. While 'normal' people were rushing home to have dinner and sit in front of the fireplace, Donn, Jim and I fought traffic to be able to experience each other's company for a late night rainy run.


It was somewhat terrifying to start another 50 mile race, especially after what had happened on my last attempt. But desire as well as fate brought me there to that little island off the coast on California. I needed to check my fears at the door and concentrate on why I was there. One setback would not keep me from pursuing my dream of running Western States.
The topic on the ultra list this weekend has been DNFing - and ultrarunners, all in their competitive spirits, tried to prove which one of them best qualifies for the title of 'king' in that area.

Dean,
Anyone who has read one or two of my blogs definitely knows my opinion on this matter. I remember a year ago, sitting at the ESPYS Awards myself, thinking about how sad it was that a man like Dean Karnazes would never be recognized in an award show like this. This year, he proved me wrong.
It was about 2pm on Saturday in a beautiful place in Pacifica, California when I finally heard those three magic words that every girl longs to hear from her boyfriend: "Yes, you're tough."





Okay, it has been a while. And frankly, we have some catching up to do.
As I stood up in front of about 30 people on Sunday to give my mother away, there he was - the one I call my 'gay boyfriend.' There was a certain happiness in what my mom was doing, marrying and committing to spend the rest of her life with a really great guy, but seeing Chad out there reconfirmed to me that there was a certain happiness in my choices as well. Even though I have made the choice to be alone, I am most definitely not alone.