Mental Games, Darkness and Mountain Lions

It's been said that ultra running is 90% mental...And the other 10% is all in the head.

It's also been said that a goal isn't really a goal unless it scares you.

Now I don't want to make too much of a recent training run. But there was something different, dare I say special about this run. I felt a sense of victory that I've seldom felt even after completing a grueling 50 mile or longer ultra marathon. And it wasn't just for the mileage (a modest 15 miles), elevation gain (over 5000 feet with over 10,000 of total elevation change) or the conditions (honestly they were pretty favorable but I did spend the last 90 minutes in solitude up lonely, pitch dark, cougar infested canyons).

Rather I think it was the fact that I finished what I set out to do and faced some fears head on.

About a week prior to this training run I decided it would be a great challenge to do an over-and-back on Indian Trail and then follow it up with an ascent of Malan's Peak. Indian is about a 5 mile route if I leave from my house and has a total elevation gain of around 1500 feet. So over-and-back is 10+ miles and 3000+ feet of gain with over 6000+ feet of total change. But it's not all in one climb. It's a lot of up and down on technical, and in this case, snow packed trails through pines, scrub oak and maple, across boulder fields and has vistas of our amazing mountains. It's gorgeous. But also very tough. Following that excursion I would climb Malan's Peak. Malan's is approximately two and half miles and 2000 feet of gain. It's also strikingly beautiful, cut through cliffs and towering pines, with a final view of Ogden that's tough to beat. And then, of course, you have to come down. 

So, that was the plan. I told everyone I could about it so that I'd be accountable. Funny though how the mind works. No sooner than I started the run (OK, maybe even before leaving) I was conjuring up excuses for why I may not finish. I had gear issues. It was colder than expected. My feet were cold. I didn't sleep well the night before. And on and on. But for every excuse I would say 'No Mingo, you're going to do this! This is nothing compared to a 50 miler, or a 100 if you plan on ever pulling the trigger on that!' It was like the cartoons with the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other. I was being pulled back and forth with no certainty as to who the victor would be.

But as with any accomplished goal, as the cliché goes, you just quite literally put one foot in front of the other. I knew these trails very well having  travelled them each over a dozen times so I simply told myself to get to a certain point, then to the next, then to the next and so on.

By the time I completed the Indian trail portion of the day the sun was going down. As I made the turn to start the Malan's Peak ascent I turned on my headlight, passed the last people I would see coming down the trail, and started the slow climb. While my legs felt strong, I was getting a little tired and hungry. But more than that I was getting a little spooked. As I mentioned earlier these canyons have mountain lions that reside in them. Although I've never heard of an attack on a human, each time I'd hear a rustle in the shrubs or a shadow move down the trail, my heart would race and I'd have to calm myself. I was honestly spooked.

Once again the excuses started flooding my mind. "Why aren't you home with your wife?" "What if I'm the first person to be attacked by a cougar? Is that really worth it?" "No one will really care if I finish or not. Who cares if I finish?"

So I reverted to the 'one foot in front of the other' mental game. Or in this case, 'get to the end of the next switch-back' then 'get to the end of the next one'. I knew there were 5 segments to this trail. If I knocked one off at a time I'd be that much closer to my goal. 'Don't run the whole trail. Just take one piece at a time'. And it worked. When I summited the peak I was treated to a stunning view of a silhouette of the moon with just a slivered rim of reddish-white in the west and the beautiful flickering lights of Ogden a few thousand feet below. I took a couple pictures, texted my wife that I was on my way home, and ran like hell down the slippery, snowy trail.

When I got to the bottom of the trail and saw the paved road that took me the 1/4 mile to my home, I threw my arms up in a victorious Rocky-like way. Yes I've run a lot further. I've climbed a lot higher. I've run more distance and time in the dark. But each one of those were during races where my commitment to finishing was based on a registration and a bib number. I've never DNF'd a race and never plan on it. But I've thrown in the towel more times than I can count during training runs. This time was different. I chose to finish when no one other than myself would have cared either way. And really, who else matters? I'm doing this for me. Not giving up, not quitting early, convinces me that I can do hard things. I can take on the next challenge successfully. Whether anyone is watching or cares. This is my training. Training for races. Training for life. Mountain lions and darkness be damned. 

I'm a Puddle Jumper

"Whether the weather is fine, or whether the weather is not; whether the weather is cold, or whether the weather is hot; we'll weather the weather, whatever the weather, whether we like it or not!" - Unknown

I grew up with a kid that only knew one way in life: skis pointed downhill, full-speed, no fear, no cares, no worries...lots of accidents. 
I, on the other hand, didn't have a broken bone as a child. Not one self-induced stitch. No ambulance rides, no emergency room visits. The only trips to Insta-Care were for the occasional flu bug. That doesn't mean I didn't have fun or experience life. Far from it. 

My dad was an adventurer and that means I joined him for many a crazy adventure. We dog sledded, slept in snow caves, climbed snow-capped peaks, ventured hundreds of feet vertically deep into caves, kayaked rivers, backpacked hundreds of miles... Yet through it all, although we faced the occasional hypothermia scare, lost trails and more than one hair raising experience, I didn't get injured enough to have a physical scar to share as a memoir. 

It's because I'm a puddle jumper. 

This realization came to me  years ago but was reinforced as I was out on a last minute trail run yesterday. Tuesday is not a running day for me. But it had snowed overnight and through the morning so there was a fresh coating of snow on the trails above my house. And I learned last year that I absolutely LOVE running on snow packed trails. It's soft yet fast, quiet and utterly gorgeous. Unfortunately, while the east coast has been clobbered by heavy snows, we here in northern Utah (the Best Snow on Earth) have been largely missed. Which means I have had only a few opportunities to run on snowy trails. This means I made time to hit the trails yesterday evening if only for 3 miles so as to not miss out on what may be the last snow run of the season. 

As I cruised down the trail in childlike delight it occurred to me that I didn't splash through the remnants of the melting snow. I didn't tiptoe around them either. Instead, I jumped over them. My feet still got a little wet here and there but not blister inducing, frozen feet sopping wet. Sure, it was for only 3 miles. But whether 3 miles or 30 miles, why suffer unnecessarily? If I can jump over the puddle why would I run through the puddle? 

And this, I reason, is why I have remained largely unscathed (physically. Emotionally is another blog for another day) through my many life adventures. I try to reason out the best course before leaping. I count costs. Some call this boring. I call it smart. After all, while a night spent in the emergency room may be a neat story, a broken bone would sideline me from more adventures. I'd rather jump the puddle. 

Are you a puddle jumper?

So, What's This All About?

I had a friend and client once tell me I'd be a lot faster if I stopped taking pictures and just focused on running. That recommendation came with the assumption that I cared to be fast. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be slow. I work very hard to be a better trail runner and one way I do that is to train for greater speed. But I would never run faster at the expense of missing the glorious surroundings that the trails above Ogden Utah have to offer. And capturing this beauty and sharing it with others makes the run all the more enjoyable and fulfilling.

So, one thing you'll be seeing on my blog are pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. I hope you enjoy. All are taken by me with my iPhone. (For a full gallery please follow me on www.instagram.com/justin_runs_ogden)

But beyond pictures of my runs I'll also be sharing reviews of products I actually have used extensively. Not just tried for a run or two. For instance, I've battled digestive issues while running for years. But I found a fuel that not only gives me consistent energy but never, and I mean NEVER upsets my stomach during a long run. I'm going to tell you about that product. Or what about shoes? Hydration packs? Gloves? Shorts? I use them and I have opinions. Maybe you'll find my impressions useful. 

And since I'm a Ogden native and spend a number of hours a week running our amazing network of trails (primarily on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail network) I'll be able to provide timely and useful trail reports. This will include various recommended routes for running, hiking and mountain biking, trail conditions, and more. If you're looking to get into trail running and you live in the area you couldn't ask for better trails to get started on. We have everything from very steep to flat, technical to clean single track, narrow trails to wide dirt roads. And all just a few minutes from downtown Ogden, the best small town in the west.

I'll also be sharing useful health and fitness tips and advice, race reports, more pictures and whatever else may help my readers. Your input will be invaluable so please feel free to share your thoughts. 

So, here goes...