Climbing and Running

I have an interesting relationship with climbing. To begin, it is my profession. I'm not a professional climber, but I'm a routesetter by trade. My job is to make plastic rock climbs (simulations of the real deal). It's a very cool job, and in my current stage of life it allows me to pay the bills and also attend school.

Being a routesetter forces me to climb. I must maintain enough of a climbing "base" to be able to forerun the routes I put up (at least most of them). Being able to climb at work is convenient because it allows me to spend a lot of my free-time running, or cycling when I get the chance. 

Many of the setters I work with are strong climbers; very strong. In order to climb at an elite, or even high-caliber level, climbing must take priority over all other recreational activities. The same is true with all sports and hobbies. I have struggled with this reality for a few years. 

Typical day at work (ROCK'n & JAM'n) 

I want to be a strong climber. I also want to be a fast runner. Since I am not willing to choose between the two sports, I am neither. 

Which brings me to the focus of my rant.

During the last two seasons, I believe I discovered my niche sport, which is combining my two favorite passions: running and climbing.

Over the last 10 years or so I honed strong enough climbing and running abilities/skills so that I can now mix the two for what I would like to call fast alpine-style ascents of big mountains. The key to quick ascents is possessing a strong aerobic fitness level, and being comfortable on easier rock climbs. When ascending many of Colorado's 14ners, often the fastest routes (and sometimes the only routes) are up 4th, 5th, and beyond 5th class terrain. If an individual is able to move over these terrains with speed and confidence, then a day in the hills becomes much more convenient. This is important to me, because I don't have the luxury of time.  

I discovered that I can accomplish much more with my time now that I've started to train my body for speedy alpine ascents. Currently I can maintain my climbing fitness at work, and spend what extra time I have logging miles on the trail. Not a bad situation. 

I hope that this summer and fall I will be able to leverage the convenience of my current situation, and accomplish the lofty ascents I have in mind...

I don't usually make lists.

When I think about lists, I think of to-do lists, goals, and anal-retentiveness. I don't like making lists because they make me feel restricted.

But sometimes lists are necessary.

If I sit down to write a list, it's because I don't want to forget something, or it's so I can look at it and remember an objective.

This year I am unfortunately unable to do the three races I want to. Therefore, I compiled a list of other goals I hope to check off this year:

• Colorado Trail, Segment #8
• Indian Peaks Traverse
• Maroon Bells, Maroon Ridge
• Flatirons Quinfecta. Double?
• Glacier Gorge Traverse, RMNP
• The Grand Teton, via Owen Spalding 

Some video of the Grand Teton...

Kiener's Route: Longs Peak

This route is sick. I watched a video of this one and decided to do it with only a couple weeks of preparation.

I've climbed many of Colorado's 14ners and oddly enough up until about a month ago, Longs Peak was still on my "to do" list.

Long's Peak is probably the most prominent 14ner on the Front Range. I've read that it is perhaps the most attempted, and least summited 14ner (try to fail ratio) of all the 14ners. Not sure if this is true- but I do know that it's quite a slut of a mountain. If you don't believe me, read on.

I held out climbing Long's for many years due to the fact that I wanted my first summit of this mountain to be via the Diamond. In particular, I had my eye set on the Casual Route. This year I spent more time running than I did climbing, and after dabbling in the ultra-scene a bit, I stumbled across a route that paired nicely with my fitness level and climbing ability: Kiener's.

I've done several alpine routes similar to Kiener's, but none with quite the exposure. Since we climbed sans rope, it was even more... exciting? <--Probably not the right word.

Brian and I got a casual start, leaving the TH around 7am or so (don't remember exactly now). Our route took us up an old access trail that branches off of the main trail right after the ranger station. The word underground is that this trail is used by a lot of climbers and rangers. It is a more direct route to the Diamond, and it eliminates a lot of the long switchbacks on the standard trail.

We were at Chasm lake in about an hour. Once at the lake, we started up to the left of Lamb's Slide, which is a huge glacier we tried to avoid. The conditions allowed us to climb all the way up on the left side and traverse over, above Lamb's (almost without even touching any snow). This seemed beneficial at the time, but the West side of Lamb's was terrifyingly steep, and covered with loose scree. This turned out to be the sketchiest part of the route. A fall here would have dumped us right onto the glacier and sent us down a 1,000 foot slip and slide. After a couple deep breaths, we entered Broadway.

Broadway is an amazingly thin ledge that traverses toward the face of the Diamond. The ledge varies from one to three feet wide in sections and a misstep anywhere on it would send one to Mill's glacier (800 feet below) real quick. I chose not to think about this too often.

The "crux", or most difficult part of the route is a section of Broadway where the one foot ledge is blocked by a protruding boulder. We actually had to bear-hug this boulder, with our hindquarters hanging out over the 800 foot drop. Although this was a section that required mental fortitude, I disagree with it's reputation as  being the route's  "crux". I found that technically, there was far more difficult climbing after we exited Broadway.

After Broadway, we entered some pretty easy climbing up toward the Notch Coulier, then encountered a small route finding issue. We headed too high into the Notch Coulier, and found ourselves on snow and ice, unable to proceed any further. We down-climbed, and after several failed attempts to find a satisfying route, I spotted a section around a small ledge which led to what I assume is the path of least resistance. I wish I would have taken some photos or video to offer some better help to those interested in climbing it. The best I can offer is: Look for a ledge and traverse around it to the North. (Huge help, I know)

We then were back on route and heading up. This section was the best climbing- lots of fun little boulder problems (I will call them) and the rock was super stable. We kept an outcropping up to our right in view and made our way directly toward it. It's the last table-top-like ledge we climbed before making our way up a small boulder field to the summit.

 I could hear voices above us as we approached the summit. I was very surprised by the size of the summit, and the number of people there. We did not see or hear a single party during our ascent, but there were 15 (ish) people on top  and even more there by the time we left. We spent a few minutes enjoying the scenery, and then we departed towards the Cables Route. 

Summit photo.

We weren't sure what condition Cables was in, but we had lots of daylight to waste and figured we could bail off of it if we needed to. That wasn't the case. Cables was perfect (minus a few icy spots that were easily maneuverable).

I'll admit that I spent much of the day worrying about this descent, because I thought the climbing would be much more technical than anything on Kiener's. I'll also admit that down-climbing Cables turned out to be my favorite part of the day. I really enjoyed it! So much so, that I will definitely head up next year to do an ascent of it.

Stopping for a photo about halfway down Cables.

Brian on probably the most technical section.

After exiting Cables, it was a fast, albeit technical romp over the boulderfield to the standard Keyhole route. We merged in with the traffic and bombed off the mountain for a round-tip time of 4:45 (moving time). Given  our few route finding issues, and the fact that neither Brian nor I had been on Keiner's, I think it's definitely possible to head back again next year and get this route under 4 hours. I'm sure there's a much faster way to ascend Lamb's Slide too (maybe some microspikes?). 

This is an amazing route that will for sure go down as my all-time favorite mountain run/climb.

Not a bad day on the mountain!

2012 Leadville Silver Rush 50 Run

Some Background: 

I started training for this race in October 2011. I'm not much of a runner, and was very aware of that when I clicked "register" on Leadville's website.

I have a very small and insignificant history in triathlon. My strongest facet of triathlon is/was swimming, followed quickly by cycling, and slowly by running... very slowly. Nonetheless, it's not as though I entered training for this race as a really fat guy (just a kinda-fat guy).

I love triathlon. I love multisport events, period. I find that I've never been exceptionally strong at one sport, but instead I've always been mediocre at many (this may be due to my inability to stay focused on one thing for too long, and my unhealthy curiosity in all things). This year I am overly busy though- with family, work and school on my plate, I was forced to forfeit triathlon and focus solely on running. My budget only affords me some shoes and some time here and there. 

Let me give a brief history: As a kid, I was first a swimmer, then I ran track, then I did Ironkids triathlons for a few years. During that time I also did mainstream sports like baseball, basketball, soccer, wrestling, and football. In high school I ran into shoulder problems and underwent a surgery that eliminated me from all sports except swimming. Even within swimming I was limited to breaststroke (keep your comments to yourself). After high school I focused my efforts on rock climbing and skiing, with climbing taking up most of my calendar year. 

Then in late 2009 I watched the Ironman world championships on television. A crazy idea started bouncing around in my head, and for my Christmas present that year I bought a road bike and signed up for the 2010 Ironman 70.3 in Boulder, Co. I did well in the event, and from there I was back to my roots; endurance events. 

With this background, naturally I wanted a challenging race, preferably something on trail, in the mountains, with lots of climbing, and lots of miles. The Leadville Silver Rush fit the bill. This year I ran my first marathon (during a training run). I did not train a lot of miles/week (about 25 miles). I ran one 20 mile run (on the Leadville course), one 25 mile run, and one 30 mile long run (about 3 weeks out).

The Race:

It was, amazing. No words could ever capture or relate how perfectly awesome of a day it was.

The night before the race we stayed at Peri and Ed's which was a pretty good mountain culture experience (interesting to say the least). I had a mediocre sleeping experience that evening and before long I found myself awake at 4:30 am, long before the butt crack of dawn. It was dark and cold, and I ate a thick slice of banana bread at 5 am to prime the engines.

At the race start I was surprisingly calm amidst the hustle and bustle of bodies. I was trying not to think about the race too much, and really trying to take in the whole experience. I was there with some great friends and my wife, who ran to the top of Dutch Henry Hill moments before the count-down in order to capture some pictures and video. My plan at that point was to find my wife at the top of the hill and steal a kiss before heading out for the long day.

Coming in for the kiss!

After the kiss, I ran  the first section with my good buddy Robear, who was in from California specifically for the race. We kept a very easy pace to the first aid station and after about the hundredth person passed us, I told him, "We have a long day ahead of us. We'll get to pass many of these guys/gals later. Slow and steady." This turned out to be the case.

Robear with the kiddos shortly after he arrived.

We parted after Black Cloud (the first aid station, mile 7). Robear's lungs weren't quite as acclimated as mine so from that point we each endeavored toward our own vision quest.

As I came into Printer Boy (the second aid station, mile 13.5) the wives (not all mine) were waiting to help refuel each of us. In addition to Robear, I had 3 other buddies running the race. We all trained together at several points throughout the year, booked rooms at Ed and Perri's together, ate breakfast together, and all toed the starting line together that morning. Our plan was to head out as a group, and then separate naturally as we each found our own pace. Oddly enough, we were all separated quicker than planned by the mayhem start up Dutch Henry Hill, and only Robear and I ran together at the start. From the first aid station I ran solo until about mile 30. At this particular aid station, I grabbed a quick bite to eat, filled water, and changed my socks. I was out of the aid quickly with the information that I was 15 minutes or so behind John, Cody, and Brian. "Those guys are cooking it, or I'm really dragging ass," I thought to myself. Then I thought about the hill I had just come down into the aid station. It was a looooong downhill, and I realized I would have to run up that hill on my way back, at mile 35 or so. I proceeded, slow and steady.

The next section of course was up and around Ball Mountain, and over a pass at 12k feet. It was probably the most difficult section of the course for most, but I felt great on it because I trained so much elevation/climbing over the winter. Instead of focusing on the long run, I spent a lot of time running steep stuff. I still did a few long runs (one 25 miler and one 30 miler), but that was it. This paid off, and I made up a lot of time over the pass, and I passed people like crazy on the climbs.

When I reached the turn-around point at Stumptown (mile 25) I ran into Brian. He was just leaving. I asked him if he had seen John and Cody, and he had not. They must have been leading the whole way. He hit the trail and I started looking for the wives. They were not there. I was super bummed because Amber had my Hammer gels. I LOVE Hammer gels and can't eat anything else on long runs, and, I'm currently addicted to the huckleberry and raspberry flavors. The gels provided on the course were disgusting (mostly chocolate and vanilla flavors) and I could barely stomach them. Luckily I discovered something amazing at the aid station; watermelon with salt on it, and this is what powered me to the finish.

As I started the climb back up and over the pass, I was in good spirits. This was mainly due to my run-in with Robear. He was coming into the turn around and looking good! I was super psyched to see him looking so strong, and we stopped to catch up and exchanged some encouraging words.

From there I continued my climb. I passed several people who had pulled off the side of the trail and were puking their guts out. Some were bent over with their heads between their legs, trying to find oxygen. My plan of taking it out easy was paying off. I had a lot of pep in my legs and power hiking felt good. I caught Brian near the top of the pass and we started running down the other side together. He told me to take off and try to get 10 hours, so I wished him luck and gassed it. I powered up and around Ball Mountain for the second time of the day and reached the top (Rock Garden aid station, mile 30) only to be met by a short-lived rain/hail storm. It actually felt kind of nice, providing a little reprieve to my overheating body.

I then began to charge downhill back to the Printer Boy aid station (mile 34.5). On my way I saw John and Cody a few hundred yards in front of me. I yelled to them, "Here comes the SAG Wagon" as I let off the gas and decided to run with them for a few. John and Cody were doing a cycle run/walk thing, so we would walk for a few minutes, then run a few. This was definitely a change of pace, and started throwing me off a little, but we weren't far from the Printer Boy aid station at this point so I continued with them.

We hung out at Printer Boy for a few, and Brian caught up with us. He wasted no time at the station though and we watched as he came, saw, conquered, and left the aid station in a blur. It was a good call, as I was beginning to feel my legs solidify from standing still. "Let's go," I told the boys, and we hit the trail.

A quick pic at Printer Boy, inbound.

We were now beginning the climb up the looooong hill we came down at the beginning of the race. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but we walked most of it. I was feeling pretty good and wanted to run, but something happened suddenly. I decided to call it. This was my first 50 miler, and I decided in my mind that I would come back for another one. As we walked up the dirt road I envisioned myself as an old man, and realized that I wouldn't tell my kids or my grandchildren stories about how fast I ran my first 50 miler. Instead, I would tell them how awesome it was, how beautiful the mountains were, and how much fun I had with the guys I trained for and ran it with. So out the window went my 10 hour goal.

I must say that it would have been a lot easier on my body to continue with my slow and steady running pace, because I trained for steady running. The on/off run/walk thing was really beginning to take a toll on my legs.

The last aid station was Black Cloud again (mile 40) and I got my last fix of watermelon and salt before heading down the home stretch. We bumped into Brian again right as he was leaving the aid. The last 10 miles were amazing and I mean this in the most sarcastic way possible.

It rained. It rained some more. And it rained a little more.

I read and heard rumors about chaffing from many endurance athletes. With only a few miles to go I began to experience this chaffing business, which I'm sure was the result of having completely soaking wet shorts (courtesy the torrential downpour). I will say this about the chaffing experience: it was *indescribably awful!

*Enduring chaffing while running is like rubbing your face on a piece of sandpaper with glass shards glued to it, except your face is your adductor and your shorts are the sandpaper with glass shards.

While I endured the chaffing, we continued to run short distances (really fast) and then walk, run short distances (really fast), and then walk. I told John that I couldn't run that pace anymore, it was tearing up my legs. In reality, the three of us were falling apart. I suggested we try to run it in all the way at a slow pace, which we did for awhile. Then we hit the last half mile or so, which kicked up the back of Dutch Henry Hill. About 100 feet in front of us we saw Brian standing on top of the hill. We were walking at this point, but could hear the finish line announcer and the music. Feeling motivated, we began to run.

The Finish:

Instead of running the beginning of the race together, we ended up crossing the finish line together. Very funny.

The finish line was teeming with emotions that are difficult to describe. My body was strangely out of balance (chemically). I was exhausted, but at the same time, my brain was ready to celebrate. Several times during the race I envisioned the finish line. When this happened, I got really emotional (while I was running). When you put so much training into an event, it's a bit surreal when you find yourself actually participating in that event. It took a couple of days to sink in I think. There were many hugs and high-fives at the finish, but I think everyone really just wanted to get the crap home, take a shower, and hit the sack. It was a long day.

Amber didn't have to do much at the aids. Just seeing her was enough motivation.

Cody, John, Me

Me and Brian.

What happened to Robear?

He finished his vision quest also. Watching him run under that banner was one of the most inspiring things I've ever witnessed. I'm not sure what he found out there on the trail, but I'm pretty sure it was worth it. I'd love to read a recap from him someday.

Hats off Leadville!

Yep, they're real silver! Actually, they're probably not. Yeah, definitely not.

Next year I'll be back for more. Perhaps more mileage also, as I find myself intrigued by the Leadville 100...

Race director Ken Chlouber is correct; 

"You're better than you think you are, you can do more than you think you can."

Buchanan and Pawnee Pass Loop

Ouch.


This one hurt.


I read a few blogs describing this run, but reading accounts from others never really does the hard stuff any justice. This is another one of those endeavors you have to experience first hand to truly appreciate the difficulty. 


After an abrupt four hours of sleep, my alarm went off at 3:30 am. It was too dark to be awake. I managed to put on my smelly running clothes (they've reached the point of no return- that is- they will never smell normal again), grabbed the bag of gear I packed much too late the night before, and walked out the door (still half asleep).


I met up with Brian at the base of Boulder canyon and we made our way up the curvy road to the pay station at Brainard (and as an aside, it's now $9 for a pass!). Anyway, we parked at the Long Lake TH and got out of the car. It was a very beautiful morning and the sun was already lighting the mountain ridges high above us.

Audubon TH 

We hit the trail (or road actually at this point) at 5:45 am. Our plan was to run a short stretch of road over to the Mitchel Lake TH so we could do a counter-clockwise loop for the day. Running this direction was going to be more difficult since it meant we'd have to do Pawnee pass at the end of the day, and it's higher than Buchanan. But, I figured we could just consider the first half of the run a warm-up for Pawnee <-- brilliant.


We started up the base of Mt. Audubon. I've run this mountain before in my younger years, and I must say that it is a great peak for those interested in trying out a big mountain (a good beginner peak) at 13 thousand some odd feet high and nothing too incredibly technical.


After some switchbacks, we came upon a sign  marking the juncture that lead us down toward Coney Flats. Good thing Brian was on top of this turn (like usual) because I was thinking it was higher up. This section was a bomber downhill, and before we knew it, we were at the junction of Coney Flats. We took a quick picture by the stream, while the sun made it's official debut for the day.

Brian soaking up the early morning rays.

The climb up Buchanan was immediately upon us. Steady, gradual climbing greeted us like a cold slap in the face- or maybe that was just the gale force winds. No kidding- the wind was literally 30-40 mph, and was taking our breath away (as if it isn't already hard enough to find oxygen at 11 thousand feet). Several times it swept across the barren tundra, nearly knocking our bodies over.


At this point I was experiencing a weird feeling (which I thought was altitude sickness). I've never had altitude sickness, so I was racking my brain trying to figure out what was going on as I trudged along. I realized I was drinking more-than-a-week-old Perpetuem, and after making Brian aware of my situation, he was certain that I should pour it out and switch over to straight water. 


After we topped Buchanan pass we quickly got moving down the backside, as the winds were even stronger on the summit. As we dropped down, we spooked two huge bull elk in the meadow below us and they bolted across the grass to seek shelter below tree-line. I've never seen an elk run (they're always standing around in RMNP or eating grass like cattle on the golf course in Estes Park). It was an amazing sight to behold, much like all the scenery on the backside of the Continental Divide (which we had just crossed).


I stopped to filter some water (bringing my Katedyne was the smartest thing I did in preparation for this run), and within minutes of guzzling down some fresh water, my system was back on track.


The run from that point on was amazing. We were truly in wild country, seeing only a handful of backpackers (I think no more than 5) from Buchanan pass all the way to Pawnee. The trail was pretty fast, minus a few downed trees that we were forced to maneuver over, around, or through. It was a long and steady downhill all the way to the next junction at Cascade Creek.    

The Cascade Creek junction marked the beginning of the most difficult section, which was unquestionably the climb up to, and over Pawnee pass. It was a daunting trek of continuous uphill, that got steeper and steeper the closer we got to the pass. Near the beginning of the true climb up the pass, we exited the woods and stepped into a large, open, rocky bowl enclosed by the sharp peaks above us. It was quite the sight. The trail was nearly impossible to decipher from below, as it made tight switchbacks up the huge boulder field.

Here's a vid of us starting Pawnee Pass.

Here's a vid of us finishing Pawnee Pass.

The section up the switchbacks was very slow going. After what seemed like hours, even days of hiking, the top of the pass was within sight, and I found a new energy in my legs. The incline faded a bit at the top and the summit of the pass became a wide grassy mound from which we could see all the surrounding Indian Peaks. It was amazing to again be standing atop the Divide! Long Lake was in view below us and we could almost see the parking lot.

Nearly 6 hours had passed since our departure, and all we had left was a bomber four mile(ish) decent to the parking lot. Too bad the temperature was now pushing into the high 80s (maybe even low 90s?), and the wind had ceased. Brian and I stopped for a fast bathroom break to discover we were both quickly heading toward dehydration. I immediately forced down a half-liter of water and nipped that one in the bud. The lower we got, the more the reality of re-entering civilization began to sink in. The trail began to get more populated, and before long we found ourselves in tourist central.

With about a mile or two to go I sucked on the mouthpiece of my Camelback only to discover that I was out of water. Not wanting to stop and filter again, we pressed on, hoping the trailhead would be around the next turn, then the next, then the next. It was the longest last mile ever.

Just when we felt like we were going to collapse, finally, the parking lot.

What a day!

I'm not sure what the stats are, but they're available somewhere. I do know it was around 26 miles, and that there was a lot of climbing. And we clocked in somewhere around 6 hours 45 minutes of run time. 

I will end with this: Whether you're considering running this loop in a day, or you're considering an over-nighter, this trail is AWESOME (and every bit worth the effort)!

I plan to return in the fall, just so I can see the change of colors/ foliage. 

My legs after the beating. Four days later I did Arapahoe Pass and my ankles were STILL unbelievably sore from getting thrashed on the technical! Worth every ache though.

Less is More

The Minimalist Lifestyle...

I read an interesting blog a little while back suggesting the idea "less is more". This is an idea that I am a big advocate of. I'll be honest and say that I often feel like I could use more money (doesn't everyone?), and perhaps since I am neither poor, nor rich, it's easy for me (in my place of moderateness) to advocate. 

I define a minimal lifestyle as: living modestly. And I define living modestly as: only purchasing/consuming things that are necessary. 

 I realize that only purchasing/consuming things that are absolutely necessary is a bit far-fetched, but I believe that when someone masters modest living, all purchases run through the do-I really-need-this filter, (and many items don't make it). In the same breath, I don't think modest living means forfeiting items bought for pleasure either (such as those items for hobbies, recreation, etc). An important aspect of maintaining one's health/well-being forces us each to pursue a healthy level of enjoyment/pleasure in this life (what a hedonist, right?). Finding the balance between what is necessary, and what is excessive, though, is the secret to the minimalist's lifestyle.

Good and bad reasons to go minimalist...

I feel like it's fairly easy to gather that there is, and has been for sometime now, a pandemic of excess in America. This has led some to advocate for minimalism. The minimalist way of life could, however, be adopted in what I think are two unhealthy ways:

1. To many, it could be nothing more than a trendy fad. If you upgrade your house to be more energy efficient, but you can't even remember to turn the light off when you leave a room, are you really an energy-conscience person? No. You're a wasteful consumer, living in an energy-efficient house. It's like those who read "Born to Run", bought a pair of Vibram Five Fingers, started running a few miles a week in them (on pavement nonetheless), to find out they don't even like running (yet alone on a trail, without shoes). Are they barefoot runners? No. Somebody once told me, "living in a garage does not make you a car". 
2. To those who don't have a lot of money, it could be an excuse to point a finger at those who have a lot. It's easy for me to tell someone else they shouldn't buy so much, or they should give some of their money to the poor/less fortunate, or they shouldn't own such a huge house, car, etc. I often wonder if I'd hold the same views though, if my checking account held more money. To live modestly and to limit purchases to necessity is a very difficult thing to do (even when there's not a lot of money in your bank). I can't imagine how difficult it must be for those who have money (that they don't know what to do with).  

Those were just two thoughts that crossed my mind after reading several blogs and watching some videos on the topic.

I think there are many healthy/unhealthy reasons for going minimalist in life. I could rant and rave about the negative effects of consumerism, compile statistics of credit card debt, over-sized SUVs, wasted food, carbon footprints, blah, blah... blah. Instead, I'll just cut to the bottom line and say that the most healthy reason for modest living is... contentment.

At the core of consumerism lies a lack of contentment... 

It's really an issue of contentment.

For some reason, humans are hardwired to compete. For some reason, this nature of competition takes on the form of gathering "stuff". For some reason, gathering "stuff" becomes the unspoken goal of life. Pursuing this goal leads to chronic discontentment. 

This video was on a blog I recently read...

Pretty cool video. This dude is cool. His house is cool. He talks cool. If I wanted to be cool, I would copy him. <--And this is why the minimal fad may quickly come and go. 


The real secret to living modestly is finding contentment, not joining the latest trend. It's not possible to watch a 6 minute TED video, or read something on someone's blog, and all of the sudden find contentment. I think it takes something more powerful; an experience that shows you life in it's simplest form; one that shows you what's really necessary in life.

This was mine...

A few summers ago I was in San Vicente, Mexico, helping some of the locals there do repairs on their church building. Some members of the church offered to have us stay at their home for an evening. This was a gesture of kindness, and we accepted. 

We (myself and one other guy who was helping with repairs) traveled out to a migrant camp and stayed with a newly wed couple. The couple welcomed us into their home.

While we set our stuff (sleeping bags and a change of clothes each) on the dirt floor of their "kitchen", I surveyed my surroundings. The house was a cement square, sectioned into two rooms by one wall that essentially cut the room in half. One side was the "kitchen" and the other side was the "bedroom". 

In the kitchen was a table, with no chairs. There was a single "pantry" which I'm pretty sure was just an old bookshelf. On the middle shelf there sat a can of tomato sauce, a bag of what I think was rice, two tomatoes, a handful of peppers, beans, flour, and a knife. (I will never forget this. If you want to know why, go and empty your entire pantry, and set only the items I just mentioned on one of the shelves). All the other shelves, much like the "kitchen", were empty. There was no sink, stove, refrigerator, counters, or cupboards. Only the table, and the bookshelf.

Next, we stepped into the "bedroom". The couple offered to let us sleep on their saggy queen sized mattress, which was placed directly on the dirt floor, adjacent to the make-shift bed they constructed for themselves (a blanket on the ground). "This isn't fair," I thought, since both of them had to get up at 4:30 the next morning and work a 10 hour day in the fields. Since it was considered rude to reject their hospitality, we consented, graciously.

When it was time for dinner, our hostess invited us outside to sit around an open fire. She placed a metal lid from a 55 gallon drum barrel over the fire and cooked our tortillas (flipping them with her bare hands). I thought many things, like, "Is there still paint on that lid? This isn't very much food. Where are we supposed to go to the bathroom tonight? I hope she washed her hands." (a**hole) <--directed at myself
She warmed beans, sliced the fresh tomatoes and peppers, and in doing so, I realized that she emptied almost all of the contents from her already depleted pantry. The meal was delicious. 
Needless to say, I had a lot to think about when I closed my eyes that night. The next morning our hosts were gone, and I stepped out of that concrete square with an entirely new perspective.

Is it cool to have a bed that folds into the wall? Yes.

Will a smaller, environmentally-friendly house help you discover what's really necessary in life? Probably not.

I know this:
I was briefly thrown in with some people who lived radically different than I did (and had much less stuff) and that experience is what allows me (today) to have a better understanding of what "things" are necessary and essential for me and my family.  It is a constant reminder to me of what real modest living looks like. When I find myself becoming discontent with where I am, or what I have, I recall this experience. It removes me from the craze of consumerism, and boosts my immunity to the pandemic.

If you want to find contentment...

Plan something like this for your next vacation. (There are lots of groups/organizations you could team up with) 

Spring Break in the Mountains

Last Thursday (3/15) I started my spring break <-- sounds weird coming from a 30 year old. Haha.
Anyway-

My goal for this short vacation (if it really is one when you still have to work) was to get into the hills! I didn't really have an idea of where I wanted to run- I just knew that I wanted to escape to the mountains.

A couple of guys from my work were heading up to ski Grays and Torres. I figured that I could just meet them and run while they skinned. Turned out that their plans changed though, due to snow conditions on the mountain. My plan stayed the same.

So Saturday, I was going to head up solo, but Derrick ended up joining me last minute. We had a great day on the mountain! It was a much needed romp in the high country (for both of us)!

4 am breakfast. Ozo coffee and a Bobo's Bar!

Derrick double checking his watch. Yep, that says 5:45 am.

Just after alpenglow.

Derrick approaching the saddle.

We stopped just under the saddle to put on another layer. We were expecting wind at the saddle.

My super sexy trash bag jacket from North Face. It was a great buy!

A quick pick on the summit of Torres.

We didn't end up bagging both summits. Derrick hasn't been training for the Leadville 50 like have. In fact, Derrick hasn't been training for anything at all. He did amazing on the mountain given the fact that he basically came straight off the couch. His legs didn't have any more gas at the saddle, so he waited while I went up Torres. I think he was going to take a nap, but I was at the summit in 15 minutes, and back down in 5. That made me feel better, because I honestly thought he was going to be sitting there freezing in the gale-force winds for an hour or something. 

Trying to move quickly at 14 thousand feet was a rude awakening. The winds were high and cold, and I had to keep my hand over my nose while I walked because I was afraid of frost bite. That put an extra bounce in my step (there was actually no "bounce" at all to be exact) as I tried to get up, and back down to the saddle quickly.  

The next day (Sunday), I was coerced into running Dakota Ridge and Matthews/Winters Park by my coworker. The legs were a little soft, and he was pushing a much harder pace than I was expecting. I hung in, but I was more psyched about the IPA we enjoyed after at GCB (so were my legs).

Monday I ran with the wife and we did hill repeats at the Westminster Rec Center. That is a great hill! Even better, it is only a half mile from her parent's house, which has a hot tub. Sure enough, we soaked for about 30 min after. Aaaahhhh...

Today, I took advantage of the day off from work and ran up Green Mountain. The trail was almost entirely dry, minus a few sections which are shaded at the top. I've only run this peak twice now. Last time it was snowy and amazing. This time was not as cool (pun intended)- but it was fun. My run up was 44 min (on the money), and my descent was 24  minutes (and change). Given that my legs are pretty gassed from the week, I think I could get my time on this run down quite a bit. I found a blog with the FKTs (fastest known times) on Green Mountain. The big boys (including Anton Krupicka) have some pretty amazing times on this peak. I think I'll attempt to get myself into the mid to upper 30 min range by next year. It'll be a nice goal for me, and keep me motivated to run the hills. 

Summit pic on Green Mountain