rec.running war stories: your most memorable run

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Question:

I run one local "hill" which is 500 feet/mile and 5 miles long and it’s a nice pull. 1,000 per mile would be a bear. Now I see where you get your speed/strength from. — Doug Freese "Caveat Lector"

Response:

We started at 6:30, and after a half hour or so, got into a good rhythm, about 17:30/mile pace.

I hike 14′ers at 3 mph. I dont have to worry about tripping over rocks, and can enjoy the scenery. My main purpose of runing to be in shape to hike fast in high mountains. Then a strange thing happened to me at about mirror lake–I started listing to the left, which really did a number to my already precarious balancing act. Must be some kind of inner ear thing.

I’ve "hit the wall" on Whitney and other very long hikes. Around six hours or 18 miles in the hike I start feeling rather fatigued. Thew secret to altitude work is gradual conditioning. The snow season is near the end in the Rockies. FIrst do a couple of treeline hikes at 12,000 then some 13ers then 14ers. No headaches or nausea then.

Response:

Used to get up there myself, being an alum. I still recall seeing an occasional wooly black tarantula sauntering across the paths! This was a good place to go for a run, or for a few beers and some star-gazing after hours. The Stanford Observatory was a hangout of mine for a time.

Response:

Hi Donovan: If you like hills, the Mt. Baldy 50k east of L.A. (my favorite race) has two big climbs: 6,000 ft of climb in 6 miles, topping out at 10,032′ elevation (miles 2 – 8), and 4,000 ft of climb in 4 miles to the same peak (miles 15 – 19) I run it every few weeks ( when runnable: it’s still snowed in) to grow some red blood cells. –Dan Stumpus

Response:

About half of my 8,000 runs in the last 27 years were in the foothills behind Stanford. Before they they closed most of it off, it was a wonderland of grasslands, hills, and lakes. Not to mention crabby cows and poison oak. Some rare days you’d have extraordinary weather conditions. For example, seeing the glass buildings of San Fansico rise above a cotton blanket of fog like a fairy city in the clouds. And then have the sunrise light them on fire like torches. I’ve made it a point to run in scenic areas of national parks. There have been many breath-stealing scenes around a bend or over a rise.

Response:

You guys were hiking, or were you running?

hiking. I’m thinking that running must exaggerate the altitude effects greatly. Have been packing and hiking well over 12,000 feet a number of times without much effect, but haven’t tried "running" at that elevation as far as I can recall.

i guess so. if you’re running, you get relatively less time to acclimatize. not to mention the extra stress on the body due to running uphill. but my point was that even though you could train for whitney by going up 10,000 ft summits twice a month, it is not guaranteed to be helpful at 14,000 ft. this is regardless of whether you’re running or hiking. jobs

Response:

I think I’m giving up on the Fourteeners–every time I get above 13,000, dizziness overcomes me. I run a 10,000′ peak every couple of weeks with no problems at all. This harrowing tale of Dan’s is kinda scary — you’d think altitude would be something you could train for, and it sounds like he does train for it — but it seems he gets hit with the vertigo, dizziness and imbalance

nonetheless! An experienced climber friend said that he had the dizziness/balance problem but it went away when he did 4 or 5 weekends of climbing/hiking at 13-14,000′. I run Mt. Baldy (10,000) regularly in the spring and summer. I even led the Baldy Peaks 50k race to the top of the mtn in 2002, and felt strong. That isn’t high enough to do it, and you’re only in the 9000+ elevations for an hour and a half or so. I have to admit, that would freak me out enough that I’d probably have asked a doctor to check me out. Have you done that, Dan?

No. I figured I just pushed myself too hard. I worked the mountain very hard, pulse was 170+ for much of the way up, pulse pounding in my ears, and I was hyperventilating at the top. This is not good for the brain, by the way. Since all symptoms cleared up by the time I got down to 4,500′ I figured it was AMS (acute mountain sickness). –Dan

Response:

No. I figured I just pushed myself too hard.

Yeh. No kidding ("Then a strange thing happened to me at about mirror lake–I started listing to the left."). Well, I guess you never know your limits until you cross over them, eh?

Response:

my story might pale in comparison to most, but i’ll never forget a summer run i did a few years ago. it started bucketing down rain only a few minutes into the run, but i kept on going. and this was to be a long run of about an hour and a half to two hours. when i got to about the half way point, i decided that it was time to stop under a shelter near the beach to wring out my socks and shirt. with all of the others seeking refuge there – watching me do this. okaaaaay. then i set off again, and the rain only came down harder. and lightning was flashing around me. it was a bit scary but mostly just a wild run. that’s when i somehow learned to enjoy running in rain! guess i went a bit looney that day. and as i neared home i realized that the wet fabric of my shirt, heavy with rainwater, had rubbed against my nipples to point of making them bleed. yuck. it didn’t hurt but it freaked me out a bit. and i guess that run was what sorta toughened me up for my first marathon, which took place in a heavy rainstorm. it wasn’t so hard to get through that after all. Cam

Response:

Inspired by a trip to San Francisco, I came up with this topic. So, rec.runners, tell us about your favourite training run. You may choose to either describe a particular run you only performed once in a crazy moment of inspiration, or you may describe your favourite running route of all time or a particularly interesting race that you entered, though I have a slight preference for training runs since we already had a racing thread. Will post more about my running in San Francisco later today…

After the first two days of the conference, my colleagues had for the most part had some time to explore San Francisco. So I decided to take "bids" on insanely steep hills from everyone — I asked everyone where the best hills were. I was staying near Embarcadero center. I had the following input: (1) West bound up California Street, to the top of Nob hill. This was long hill with slope increasing from moderate to insane. (2) Nob hill approaching from the South. A steep climb. (3) Lombard Street. As it happened, it was possible to incorporate these 3 in the one run (in the above order). So off I went. First I decided I was going to do these like intervals, running pretty hard. So the first hill was California Street. Nice way to get started. It was much like a typical San Francisco hill. Everywhere else in the world, hills gradually increase slope, then slope up at a uniform grade, then slowly flatten out. In San Francisco, the grade keeps increasing — first it is much like a normal hill, and then the hill will increase in grade to the point of insanity, and it will not flatten out until you’re almost at the Summit. From the plane, parts of the landscape looked like a piece of paper that had been crumpled and then flattened out. So by the time I was midway through California Street, I was running right up on the balls of my feet, much like one does during a sprint. It is simply not possible to midfoot strike up these hills, they are too steep. Next on the menu was Nob Hill from the South. I broke this up into blocks and ran it in strides, one or two blocks at a time to accomodate the traffic lights. But the best was yet to come. I continued North until I ran into Lombard Street. When I got there, I was on a Summit, just above the part where it winds. Lombard Street goes up what is one of the most insane hills even in San Francisco. It is so steep that there is a block of it where the road zig-zags its way up the hill to avoid the impossible slope. Because it really is zig-zagging, and not a gentle back-and-forth cut across the face of the hill, the grade is still quite good. I started a block before the windy part. One thing I liked about this hill was that there was no cross-traffic to worry about, so I could run it quickly from top to bottom. By the time I did this, I was dead tired, but then when I hit the flats and downhills, I was flying with very little effort. Apparently, I’ve dug up grade information. It looks like I didn’t get the steepest grades, but I did get some of the better ones. http://www.sfvisitor.org/travelmedia/press.asp?rid=98 Lombard: 18% Nob Hill South: 22.2% Despite the fact that Lombard was "only" 18%, the clear run over two blocks (the block before the winding is also pretty steep) and the fact that the winding makes the block a little longer made that one a winner. Hyde Street likewise gets into the early 20s, one of the first hills there that I tried. Based on the above URL it looks like there are a couple of blocks that go into the 30s, I suppose I’ll have to go back there some time … Cheers, — Donovan Rebbechi http://pegasus.rutgers.edu/~elflord/

Response:

Speaking of SF, I ran the US Half Marathon in SF last October and happened to take a throw away camera which resulted in the following interesting picture: http://www.latimes.com/features/outdoors/la-os-featweek4nov04-hnmz42k… 4744.photo or http://runsf.com/ The only race I know of which goes over, under, and around the Golden Gate Bridge. I highly recommend it!! Steve S.

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Inspired by a trip to San Francisco, I came up with this topic. So, rec.runners, tell us about your favourite training run. You may choose to either describe a particular run you only performed once in a crazy moment of inspiration, or you may describe your favourite running route of all time or a particularly interesting race that you entered, though I have a slight preference for training runs since we already had a racing thread. Will post more about my running in San Francisco later today… Cheers, — Donovan Rebbechi http://pegasus.rutgers.edu/~elflord/

Response:

Looks like a nice course. I had the opportunity to run around that area, along the waterfront, though I only got as far as the foot of the Golden Gate (was staying at the Embarcadero center) Must say the race looks pretty tempting even if it is on the other side of the country. Cheers, — Donovan Rebbechi http://pegasus.rutgers.edu/~elflord/

Response:

It was the time I went running with an old running partner who for our whole lives had been my inspiration to run, and we had this brutal trail route that was under power lines, and was pure up and doiwn hills, and he used to take great delight in running circles around me (literally) while I gasped for breath. Then after not seeing him for 5 years, we met up and decided to give the old course a run. Well little did he know I’d run that course almost 3x a week for years, and I was ready, he wasn’t… I don’t ever remember so completely dominating anyone in a race. I absolutely danced around him, ran backwards, and LMAO at him while he turned blue. Afterwards he made no excuses, and he congratulated me on my conditionig, and on how far I’d come since my 3 pack a day habit. It was a triumphant moment, my "white moment". I saw him the other day after 12 years, driving his cab, puffing on a marlboro, 30 lbs overweight. Oh well, I rule!

Response:

I think I’m giving up on the Fourteeners–every time I get above 13,000, dizziness overcomes me. I run a 10,000′ peak every couple of weeks with no problems at all.

This harrowing tale of Dan’s is kinda scary — you’d think altitude would be something you could train for, and it sounds like he does train for it — but it seems he gets hit with the vertigo, dizziness and imbalance nonetheless! I have to admit, that would freak me out enough that I’d probably have asked a doctor to check me out. Have you done that, Dan?

Response:

Not me! All my memorable/crazy/inspirational runs require censorship. All the others would put you to sleep. — Doug Freese "Caveat Lector"

Response:

we set up an overnight base camp at 11,700 ft and started off for the summit. within a couple of hundred feet altitude gain, one of the guys dropped out. then, around 13000 ft, another dropped out since he started feeling as if he was going to pass out. we waited to make sure he was alright, sent him down to a lower altitude, and continued – three of us, including me. when we finally reached the summit, the other two got hit by mr. altitude. i was the only one who didn’t get it.

You guys were hiking, or were you running? I’m thinking that running must exaggerate the altitude effects greatly. Have been packing and hiking well over 12,000 feet a number of times without much effect, but haven’t tried "running" at that elevation as far as I can recall.

Response:

I once started out at about 8:00 am on a Saturday morning from downtown Culver City, California, then ran west along the Ballona Creek to the ocean and turned south through Marina del Rey, Playa del Rey, past LAX, El Segundo, and the subsequent beach cities along the meandering beach "bike" path. It was such a beautiful cool day, and without thinking that I had a light prevailing ocean wind at my butt as I headed south, I just enjoyed the scenery (girls in bikinis is a form of "runner’s high" I’ve never seen discussed much), the sound of the ocean, and the weather, and I kept on going on down to Manhattan Beach, Hermosa Beach, and eventually even Redondo Beach. What the hell, I was feeling GOOD as I ran. Somewhere still short of 10:00 am I stopped at a drinking fountain, took a look at my watch, and realized I was probably about 14 miles from home, and had nothing with me but my watch and a lone house key. This didn’t leave many options, and I realized I had stumbled into running a "marathon" (and then some). I was a little intimidated at that point, because I believe I had never run more than about 14 miles at once at that age. So, I bit the bullet and headed back north up the path at once. Well, for those of you familiar with the Pacific Coast, the coastal breeze typically makes it a fair amount easier to head south than north (if you ever doubt this, take an extended bike trip along the coast, where the effects of the wind are exaggerated), and I soon realized I was going to have a much slower trip back. My city-by-city pace of the outward leg became more like step-by-step soon enough, and when I reached my turn I had never been so glad to see the Ballona Creek trail turn back off the beach and head inland — something I normally regretted a bit. Yes, the last 4 or 5 miles of this run were difficult for me indeed, but at least once I turned off the beach I was no longer fighting the wind. I believe I had run probably about 28 miles or so (never really measured it?) without having headed out planning to do so, and without water other than what fountains I found. No food, that’s for sure. I got back sometime still close to noon, and my girlfriend’s comment was "Where have YOU been?" Geez, how should I have answered that? ("Out running" doesn’t quite cut it, but it’s probably what I said). My legs were VERY stiff afterwards, but this run told me I could run marathons, obviously, and I have kept up my running habit in the many years since, so it had no harmful effects.

Response:

Here’s the account of my last harrowing run up Mt. Whitney in the summer of ‘02. It’s about 11 miles to the top, starting at 8600′ elevation and topping out at about 14,500′. No, I have no plans to run that sucker ever again… Guys: Three of my crazy mountain runner friends and I decided to run up Whitney last Friday. Two wanted to take it up at a slower pace, so Steve and I gave them a 30 minute head start, figuring to catch them by trail crest (about 9 miles out at 13,800′) We started at 6:30, and after a half hour or so, got into a good rhythm, about 17:30/mile pace. We jogged the ups, ran the rare flat/down sections, and walked up the steps. We passed many day hikers who had started in the wee hours. After about an hour and 50 minutes, we got to trail camp at 12,000 feet, took a solar powered potty break, and started trudging up the switchbacks. This is where the fun begins, as many of you know. We walked the curves and jogged many of the straights of the 100-odd switchbacks. As I climbed to 13,000, I started to get dizzy. This is just what happened to me last year. Oh well, push on. It was in the 40’s, with gusts of 15 mph. I was wearing a waterproof shell over a light longsleeved knit top, and running shorts. By the time we got to trail crest, I was pretty cold. Steve and I both had frozen faces–our lips were so cold and numb that we couldn’t form "B" and "P" sounds. Bill, one of those who had started earlier, strongly hinted that it was pretty cold, and we looked pretty bad–how about cutting the thing short and jogging down from trail crest? But Noooo, we had to press on. Fighting dizziness and the cold (the wind chill must have been in the 20’s), we fought our way to the top in about 3:45. As soon as I stopped, I started shivering. I dashed into the hut, and began to shake violently–even my shoulders were quivering. Fortunately, one of my friends had an extra pair of sweat pants, and two of them sat pressed against me as my body temperature rose enough to stop my shivering. I was more than a bit scared–and mad at myself for not bringing warm clothing. I should have had a wool cap, another top layer at least, and sweatpants. I don’t think I’d be writing this without my friends. Finally, we started down. All three of us were so dizzy from the altitude that we couldn’t jog down, so we carefully picked our way off the peak. My friends thought more than once about the possibility that they could lose their (impared) balance and fall on the *wrong* side of the trail. I pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on each foot placement. I haven’t heard much about dizziness/vertigo problems on the Whitney list. Is it a thing only suffered by middle-aged runners? Finally, we made it to trail crest, and the switchbacks. Unfortunately, we were still too dizzy to run, and hiked down, assuming that things would return to normal at about 12,500 (where the dizziness began). Unfortunately, that didn’t happen for me. Everytime I sprung off to start running, I got a huge jolt of nauseating vertigo, so we hiked, and hiked and hiked. Then a strange thing happened to me at about mirror lake–I started listing to the left, which really did a number to my already precarious balancing act. Must be some kind of inner ear thing. My faithful friends walked me down. I was helpless, and reduced to a crawl–thank God for friends! I had to *crawl* across the log stream crossing, and fell at another crossing despite being held by my buddies. A very strange experience, feeling strong, but being unable to balance. We eventually got down–walking all the way. That is a heck of a long way to hike. Epiphany: It is 2,000,000 times easier to jog those 11 miles down! P.S: After the ride down to the motel and a couple of aspirins, I was walking straight again, and the dizziness was gone. Bill, who turned back at trail crest (13,500), ran all the way down, felt great, and had a burger and a beer or two at the Portal Store while waiting for us. I think I’m giving up on the Fourteeners–every time I get above 13,000, dizziness overcomes me. I run a 10,000′ peak every couple of weeks with no problems at all. –Dan

Response:

Inspired by a trip to San Francisco, I came up with this topic.

so, SF inspired you to entitle this thread "war stories?"

Response:

so, SF inspired you to entitle this thread "war stories?"

No, I’m sure the title is intended to draw Roger Hunter out of "retirement" for another of his fascinating (if off-topic) Rhodesian military tales!

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