Why?

"Why am I doing this?"

I'm sure most runners ponder that most fundamental philosophical question. Usually the pondering starts for me on a long run, deep into a burly week of training. Or in the middle of tough race when I feel myself blowing up. Or when I'd rather be sleeping, or lounging, or eating or drinking. Or spending time with loved ones.

There are also times I put my neck out there and sign up for something beyond my comfort zone. Something I know will push me mentally, physically and emotionally to a new place. A place that is guaranteed to bring some pain.

Such is the case with the Transalpine Run.

"Why am I doing this?"

I've decided runners are either running away from or to something. I like to believe I'm a forward thinker and that it's the latter for me. But when I'm honest with myself, I know it can also be the former.  The Transalpine sure feels like a "running toward something" experience. (Although I've got to admit I'm going to enjoy "running away from" some of the day-to-day stuff at home for a couple weeks).

Patrick and I signed up for the Transalpine for many obvious reasons: The chance for new cultural experiences and to meet interesting people, to soak up the stunning vistas of the Alps, to run in the mountains, to have an adventure together (Patrick and I are good friends but our lives are full and we don't hang out as much as we'd like to).  It sure feels like a "running towards" semething experience. 

But of course there is the obvious challenge of participating in something as daunting as the TAR that gets to the core of my - and I believe Patrick's - reason for doing this.

Our friends and Alaskan running compatriots, Brandon Newbould and Brent Knight, competed in the TAR last year. Accomplished runners, they competed extremely well. But there was something else inspiring about their experience. In watching videos, seeing photographs, and reading emails from them about the event, it was obvious that they were having a powerful and positive experience in the Alps. There were tears. There was suffering. And there was joy.

Brent and Brandon TAR '10

Patrick and I joke that no matter how tough the TAR gets, we won't let it get to tears. Then after a short pause we change the subject and talk about the baseball pennant races, or how our kids are doing.

I was chatting about the race with Brandon the other day, asking technical questions about the course, etc... After a while, Brandon paused and in a tone that

suggested we cut to the chase, he shared these words:

"You're going to learn a lot about yourself."

And perhaps at the end of the day, that is really the answer to the question "why?".

Patrick

me

Treadmill

Now that I'm back at work (2on/2off on the north slope) I have to adjust training to running on a treadmill and/or stairmaster. If you're not familiar with North Slope policy, running outdoors is frowned upon due to safety issues, mostly related to interaction with heavy equipment or wildlife. Staying focused and getting in quality training has always been a challenge, but now that I'm tuned in to higher volume, lower intensity training running on the treadmill has become mind numbing.

Issues I've run into

1. Competition for equipment. The gym at our camp is undersized and equipment is frequently broken. That means that you can't really plan a workout ahead of time. You have to show up and see what's available. It could be a treadmill, stairmaster, rowing machine, or none of these, in which case I usually do some core strength work while waiting. Then there's the guilt factor when others are waiting. So most days I have to shuffle between machines running 30 minutes at a time and just hopping on whatever is available whenever I can. This took some getting used to, but I like to think I've adjusted fairly well. Over the last few months I've been able to consistently maintain about 90 minutes of aerobic exercise every day. Sometimes I can hammer out 14 miles on the treadmill with little or no incline. Other days I only run about 5 miles and crank on the stairmaster.
2. boredom. 90 minutes a day of aerobic exercise can mean hanging around the gym for up to 2.5 hours. After a few days this just gets old, eats into sleep, and I generally wind up needing rest - mostly for psychological reasons. When I was in college I could watch sportscenter reruns all day long. Not so much anymore. And I pretty much draw the line at ice road truckers or any HateNews program. Physical fitness isn't worth the sacrifice in psychological well being.
3. risk of injury. Don't know if anyone else experiences this, but 13 consecutive days on the treadmill wreaks havoc on my legs. Hips and knees suffer the most. I don't know what it is, because I can get to Anchorage and run 20 miles no problem. But getting through those last few days of my hitch can be painful.
4. fatigue. The work schedule is a little tough for trying to squeeze in this much exercise. I usually wake up at 4:00 am and head to the gym somewhere between 5:00 and 7:00 pm. Again, not that big of a deal for a few days, but after a week and a half it gets kind of tiring. And that's to say nothing of the work sometimes just overriding any plans I have for exercise. Some hitches you just get wrapped up in series of consecutive 16-18 hour days and that's that.

I started working on the slope about 3 years ago. At the time I had never run on a treadmill. Ever. I take pride in my ability to get out in any weather and do what I do outdoors. So it took a while to get used to being forced inside, even when the weather is decent. At first I couldn't stay focused for longer than 30 minutes. Then I just started running hard every day, and I was able to maintain for longer. The intensity made the time go by faster. Over the last few months I've been stretching the workouts longer and longer. I guess you could say I've progressed over the years. Or regressed.

I don't really enjoy the incredibly long stuff. I have two more hitches before the TAR and after that I'll probably try to go back to a more normal exercise routine.

Start

Where to start. This actually started a couple of years ago when Harlow mentioned the Trans Alpine Run to me over a beer or a jaunt in the mountains. He had been turned on to the event by Toby, and was thinking of participating with him. The event is run in teams of two. At the time I was intrigued, but knowing that I've never been fit enough to complete an event of that magnitude, never mind teaming up with someone who has credentials like Harlow's, just enjoyed the conversation.

Start again. Last year my brother James and his family moved from Tokyo, where they had lived for a couple of years and where I had failed to visit them, to Ramstein AFB in Germany. This time Heidi and I have talked about it and we're going to make the effort. Next thing I know Harlow and are talking about the Trans Alps again, only this time I'm really pushing the notion.

Not knowing if we'd actually enter the race or not, I started slowing down the pace of my runs, increasing the volume, and trying to spend more time in the mountains. This was all pretty easy because I had increase the volume if I was going to keep seeing new terrain, would have to slow down simply because of the volume. This was in the middle of the summer of 2010.

Start again. Last Friday I ran the Crescent Lake trail (12 mi), then followed that with the Crow Pass Crossing (22), then Harlow and I did the Peters Creek Trail (15), Wolverine from Service High School (15), and Resurrection Pass from Cooper Landing to Hope (38). All told it was about 105 miles over 5 days. Going into it I seriously doubted my ability to even complete that mileage at any pace. Compounding the problem was that I suffered through Crow Pass and woke up really sore the next day. Peters Creek was not fun. Wolverine even less so. But by the time we started at Resurrection Pass I was feeling good again, and when we finished (the longest run I've ever been on) I felt fine.

I've had an amazing year training for this event. I've found new trails and new terrain, seen tons of great wildlife, rediscovered a purpose in running, and simply enjoyed the company of the people that I train with. Over the last week, doubts that I've had in my (and Harlow's) physical ability to complete the event have been squashed. That's a monster step in the right direction.

Now I'm back on the slope for two weeks on the treadmill and stair-master. More on that later.

My window at camp faces east out onto the tundra. It's pretty warm and there hasn't been much wind. The caribou look miserable. Clouds of mosquitoes follow them wherever they go.