And So It Begins

Yesterday it spit snow on and off. Never enough to stick, but enough to see. Enough to remind me of that the chill in the air was more winter than autumn. When I went out for my ride I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this was my last day on that piece of single-track. If next time I went I out, there would be a few inches of snow on the ground. And you know what? I was right.

Overnight the snow arrived. I could hear sleet on the roof of the cabin in the early evening, then sometime as I was asleep it turned to snow. This morning, under bluebird winter skies, a fresh inch covered everything. I've got to admit, it was beautiful.



Still, I was disappointed. I had planned a long bike ride today. I wanted to venture on what would certainly be my last above tree line ride out on some jeep trails off Murphy Dome. The new snow put a damper on that plan. I sat for awhile in front of the TV trying to make myself excited about winter by watching the ski movie "Steep" on DVD. But every time I looked outside the sun was glimmering off the snowy branches and the thermometer was climbing above freezing. I succumbed.

I climbed on my bike aiming for an exploratory ride to check trail conditions. I ended up riding for nearly two hours. The inch of fresh snow and crust crackled happily beneath my tires. When I turned up on the trails no one had been before me and the smooth snow looked as though it had such potential. Turns out it did. I rode upward enjoying the near silence of my ride. Where I usually turn off to descend back toward home, I just kept climbing. I watched my shadow on the snow in front of me. In the steeps, shadow-me leaned forward on his shadow-handlebars, his legs pumping, looking strong.

On I went, turning onto the main road where cars had packed down the snow into a solid, if somewhat icy path. Three inches or so had fallen there, 2000 feet above my cabin. I faced the sun now, and it felt hot. I reached down, unzipped my jacket and let the fresh air reach my sweating core. It was perfection, my breath moved in and out in rhythm with my legs. I could have climbed forever, wish that the hill would not have ended. Eventually of course, like all climbs, it did end. I stopped on the summit and looked to the north:


The descent rolled by with ease. I took it easy as I got a feel for how my bike handles in the snow, how hard I can pull the brakes before the wheels locked up, how tight of turns it could handle before the rear wheel slides. I rolled down the snowy road, on down a jeep road, reached some icy pavement and finally slid to a stop in my driveway. Riding my bike makes me so damn happy.


So here is the lesson for the day: When the weather looks iffy, the conditions sloppy, the riding shitty. You're probably right, it WILL be shitty, but it MAY not be. And you just don't know until you pull on your helmet, clip into your pedals and go. Next time, go. Go in the rain. Go out in the snow, and cold and heat. Go ride in the sleet and pouring rain. You never know what kind of ride you will find. Just Go.

Mileage August 26:
Running: 3 miles

August 27th:
Biking: 12 miles

August 28th:
Biking: 12 miles

August Totals:
On Foot: 65 miles
By Bike: 145 miles

How many more can there be?

If I were autumn I'd feel like an inmate being walked to the gas chamber. When the clouds roll in, as they have this morning, I wonder if they won't start spitting snow. The nights are cool and dark, only a few trees still manage to hold their leaves. The landscape has shifted from gold to brown.

Last night, I took a short mountain bike ride in the evening sun. It was a perfect late autumn night. Not a cloud in the big Alaskan sky, and warm for late September. It was later than I wanted when I left the house and the sun was just slipping behind a shoulder of Ester Dome as I ascended a long hill. The sun fell and the last of the light slipped up the aspens shining on the few remaining clusters of yellow leaves as my bike's tires crackled across those that had already fallen. I climbed onward as day slipped into dusk and when I reached the Back Door Trail, I turned my wheels down, released the brakes, relaxed my body, and let the trail carry me as fast as I dared. The single track wound down and down, bounced over roots and over logs, across dips and patches of mud. I grinned, then chuckled, then outright laughed as the wind hit my face and a plume of scattering leaves streamed out behind me.

Oh Autumn, I'll miss you.

25 August Mileage
Biking: 8 miles

August Totals:
On Foot: 62 miles
By Bike: 121 miles

Autumn's Last Gasp

My mental state wanders so far up and down this time of year. One day I'm thinking about the rise of winter and how that makes me look forward to snow and warm clothes and skiing and the aurora borealis and cabin trips and hot wood stoves and.... the list goes on. Other days I think about the darkness and the days that crackle with cold, so cold that my truck's tires have gone square in the night, so cold that breath is sucked out of me when I step outside. The way I get exhausted watching the world through the beam of a headlamp. Then I'll remember the huge star-filled sky and brightest moons and curtains of green northern lights in the night sky, and it all doesn't sound so bad anymore.

In fact, Alaska isn't so dark in the winter, at least not most of the time. Everyone knows we are full of light in the summer but even our winter nights are not so dark. When everything is covered in snow everything reflects. The starlight, moonlight, city lights. And best of all the ethereal green glow of the aurora which can make the entire world look utterly bizarre. Last night I took the dog for a walk and all these thoughts occurred to me. Now, night is much darker than it will be in a month when snow will cover the ground. Autumn can feel like the darkest time of year, maybe that is why these days of increasing darkness are so hard to grasp?

24 August Mileage:
Running: 3 miles

August Totals:
On Foot: 62 miles
By Bike: 113 miles

Oh, and the weekly weigh-in...

Forgot this in my morning's post:

Had my my weigh-in this morning: 232 and 28% body fat. Down 4 lbs since last week and even body fat. Never sure what those numbers mean, if anything... Still that puts me down 8lbs and 2% body fat since I started this whole thing. I'm carrying less weight around and if my math and the scale are right something close to 5lbs of it is from fat. I try not to put too much stock in it, and instead look more at how I feel. And you know what? I feel more fit now than I have in a long, long time.

Evening in the saddle

I was kicked out of the house last night by my girlfriend who was throwing a "no males invited" party. Harsh, I know. But I took advantage of the situation to take my bike for some long moderate miles. I got out of the house shortly after six and decided on a long loop that would be almost entirely on roads (both dirt and pavement). As I started up the first climb the sun was still shining in the western sky but the air was notably cool, almost wintry. On the descent into Goldstream Valley I passed through Fairbanks' inversion. This, for those of you unfamiliar with the phenomenon is when the cool air sinks to the valley bottom and creates a lake of cold stagnant air. Just a few feet above, the temperature can be 10, 15 or even 20 degrees warmer. At speed, on a bike, in the late autumn, hitting that layer of cold air can feel like plunging into cold water.

When I got off the dirt road I'd descended I wandered northward toward the cabin I am about to buy. There was a bit of hill heading up the road in that direction, one I had not really noticed the many times I've cruised down this stretch in my truck or on my motorcycle. It wasn't really difficult, just unexpected, but it did lead me out of the cold air and back into the welcoming moderation of hills. When I arrived at the cabin after my first descent of the rough driveway on my bike, the last of the sunlight was just leaving the surrounding woods and everything had a golden glow. I'd like to say it looked so lovely and idyllic, but really the old log cabin just looked kind of sad. Lonely, maybe. No one has lived there for four or five months and the place and land wants for some human presence. There were no lights on, no music playing, no dogs romping in the yard. The leaves that were still attached to the nearly barren branches looked brown instead of yellow. Lonely, yes, but that will be resolved in the very near future.

After poking around for a bit longer and growing steadily colder, I donned some long underwear under my riding shorts and went out to find the local trail network in the last of the day's light. It was an unsuccessful search. A winter trail departs right from the property but it is much too soggy for riding during the unfrozen months. So I climbed back up the hill and explored around some little used powerline cuts before finding my way back to the main road. I was getting hungry so I pointed my front wheel toward town and spun down the long hill to the bottom of the valley. As I was climbing up the notorious Ballaine Hill it was getting dark and I realized I was wearing black on a busy road. This is not a good combination. Luckily, and for once, I had had the foresight to bring a flashing red light for my camelback and a headlight for the bike. I turned them both on and suddenly felt much safer out on the road.

Road riding is an odd thing, so different from trails and back road paths. I'm not sure what I think about it. I like the speed, the rhythym the continuity but at times I also hate those things.

And I really hate traffic.

After the steep descent back toward town (42 mph according to my GPS) I found my way to the local coffee shop and some much needed sustenance before heading toward home under the now starry skies. Riding in true darkness is not something I've done much of since moving to Alaska. Back in my days as a full-time bike commuter in Olympia, Washington, riding in the dark (and rain) was second nature. But here I've been spoiled by our summer's light and though I hate to admit it, my bike has mostly been relegated to storage during the long winters. Watching my shadow race past me each time I passed beneath a street light brought back a flood of memories of Washington State. I could almost smell Puget Sound in the air.

When I escaped the lights of the main roads I entered the tunnel. The tunnel where everything but where the headlight beam falls is dark. There is no real sense of motion, just the cracks in the pavement passing quickly through the window of light, and the occasional brush on the shoulder that swings vaguely into vision through the milky haze. I looked mostly down, following the white line and watching my knees pump up and down, the knobby tire spinning a blur and my gloved hands working the gears. Riding in such conditions is a nearly dreamlike state, sometimes it can be addicting, others, like last night, it just made me want to get home. So I stepped down a little harder and I went.

23 September
Running: 3 miles
Biking: 24.5 miles

September Totals
On Foot: 59 miles
By Bike: 113 miles

Equinox Marathon Relay

Yesterday was the annual Equinox Marathon here in Fairbanks. This year I opted to run the three leg relay with two friends. 2008 had the biggest turnout of any Equinox. There were more than 100 relay teams and who knows how many hundreds of individual runners. I had forgotten how much I enjoy participating in races. I love the energy of the group, the anticipation and the camaraderie, and of course that spark of competition. The race started in low overcast and some light mist. Cool and nearly perfect weather for running (at least at the start).

I had opted for the middle leg of the relay which is the shortest in terms of mileage (8.2 miles) but has more than 2500 feet of cumulative elevation gain. My friend who ran the first leg took off at a moderate pace when the gun (a huge military howitzer) went off. She kept up a steady pace over her rolling 8.6 mile leg. In her last mile she crashed a bit slowing her pace to finish in about an hour and half. At the bottom of the dome I took off running up the trail. The weather started off well with a very light mist falling in the cool autumn air. Unfortunately it got colder and wetter during the ascent and I was grateful to have worn a fleece vest. Some other runners were not so lucky.

When the trail leveled for a short stretch about mid-way up I lengthened my stride and started to pass runners. I pushed myself and finished the rest of the climb at a good pace. At the top the notorious "Out and Back" begins which can be a demoralizing section for many runners. Somehow it is one of my favorite parts of the course and I enjoyed every step of the rolling trail. I enjoy this stretch because you can see every runner as they pass in the opposite direction. It is a great opportunity to cheer on the other runners (and check out the state of the competition). This stretch is also where many of the individual racers hit the wall. The strain on the faces of those with their noses against bricks was apparent and painful to watch.

On the return I picked up the pace and just rolled along the trail on the outer edge of my comfort zone. I was still picking off other runners, using each I passed as an incentive to push a bit harder. In the last mile I pushed out of my comfort zone and just ran. Despite my gasping there were parts of that last mile when I was sublimely happy. I felt more than good. Euphoric even. When I came down the chute to pass off to my girlfriend who had the final leg, I was grinning broadly and wishing I had a few more miles to go. In the end I finished the leg in 1:47 and change and had moved our relay team up more than ten places.

I stood around in the cold and rain for a few moments watching the other runners before wondering just how I was supposed to get back down to the finish. My friend who ran the first leg had disappeared. And so I ran. I trotted back down the road to another dirt track that meets up with the race route about three miles down the hill. On the descent I just let my legs roll over at a comfortable pace and hoped to beat my girlfriend to the junction. I arrived there feeling strong and felt for sure I'd gotten ahead of her. After a few minutes standing around I trotted on up the trail against the flow of runners looking for her coming my way. I went about a half-mile before realizing she must have been further along than I thought. So I turned around, ran back to the road and hitched a ride the rest of the way down the hill.

I eventually found her two miles further down the hill. She had cooked down the hill clocking fast miles in the steep descent before stalling out a bit in the flats. We live at mile 22 and when we reached our driveway I ran to the house while she continued on the course. I changed clothes and then hopped on my motorcycle to cheer her along for the remaining miles. When I caught up to her again at about mile 24 she was hurting and mixing in periods of walking. By the time she reached the finish, she was toast but happy to complete here 9+ mile leg.

Well we didn't win, but we weren't expecting to. As a team we finished toward the back of the pack and it doesn't matter. I had a great time and today I'm more fired up to run and ride my bike than I was yesterday. I can't ask for more than that.

Mileage 20 September
Running: 12 miles
21 September
Biking: 11.5 miles

September Totals:
On Foot: 56 miles
Biking: 88.5 miles

Another thing about winter...

I failed to remember something in yesterday's wistful and hopeful pre-winter post. I noted the coldness and brutality of winter and the way these coming months can be fun and the comfort of warm wool hats and all. Well I'd forgotten something, a very important factor for the working man. That is how friggin' difficult it is to haul myself out of bed to face another morning of darkness. Yes, the darkness, the bane of a Fairbanks winter. How could I forget you? I guess I'll start stocking up on batteries and headlamp bulbs.

I took today off from exercise and had an easy day yesterday to rest up for the marathon relay tomorrow. I just picked up my bib and shirt. (The shirt is a hideous bright, florescent green.) Despite the shirts I am still looking forward to the race. I may even run along on the third leg as well so I can clock out an 18 mile day. We'll see.

Race report to come.

18 August mileage
Biking: 5.5 miles

August Totals:
On Foot: 44 miles
Biking: 76.5 miles

Appreciating Wool Hats

It has arrived. That time of year when I carry a wool hat and fleece gloves with me more than I carry sunscreen. I have mixed feelings about it. In one sense it is fun to dig out the winter clothes, to fluff up the old down jacket and pull my thick musher's cap over my ears. It is fun to remember how brutal this place I live can be, fun to know I will handle whatever the winter throws at me. But at the same time it is a very sad time of year. These hump seasons are rough, they mean change. And change, for all its beauty and inevitability is difficult. Despite whatever reservations I have about the disappearance of summer, there is not one damn thing I can do about it, so I'm accepting it. I'm going to listen the last leaves fall, and cherish the rain drops as I wait for them to turn to snow. And when I venture out, I'm going to pull my knitted hat over my ears and relish the warmth.

Mileage 17 August
Running: 3 miles
Biking: 9 miles (800 vertical feet)

Augst Totals:
On Foot: 44 miles
Biking: 71 miles

Ahhhh, Alaska.

Caribou antlers and Denali from the new Eielson Visitor Center.

After my long ride on Saturday I took Sunday off which accidentally extended on in to Monday. I blame two friends on that extension. These two had won a road pass to drive the Denali Park road and invited us along for a day of sight-seeing. We've been dealing with the autumn rains here in Fairbanks over the past week and I expected our day in the park to be drizzly, but hopefully wildlife filled. In fact we drove down early in the morning in clearing fog and clouds to arrive at the park entrance under blue skies and last of the autumn colors glowing in the sun. Though all too many hours in the car and all too few on foot across the tundra, it was a day well spent.

Detail of North America's highest mountain.

The Toklat Valley, looking north in black and white.

Returning to Fairbanks late in the day left no time for a run or ride and left me jonesing for some exercise. So yesterday I hit the trails hard on foot. I ran a 3.5 mile tempo run at lunch. It would have been an unremarkable run except for the fact that the first major frost had hit the trees over the boardwalk sending the last of their leaves tumbling to the ground. This made for a very slippery running surface which I learned less than 100 feet onto the first stretch of boardwalk. I was rounding a 90 degree corner when my left foot went out from under me and sent me tumbling. This wouldn't have been bad were it not for the hand rail on my right side. As I fell my right arm came down the rail yanking it hard and abrading the inside of my arm from elbow to armpit. Being the tough guy that I am, I grimaced for several long moments, winced at the scuffed and reddening skin and then ran on (only to wake up this morning with a markedly sore shoulder...ouch).

Yesterday evening after dinner I headed out for another run, this an easy, mid-distance trot. I set an easy pace, what I refer to as my "marathon pace" the speed I feel like I could keep up for a long, long time. I headed down to my local trail maze, climbed a few hundred feet up a long hill, descended through another trail network and arrived home in fading light of evening. It felt, so, so good. After 5.5 miles, I felt like I could have easily just kept on running. This may be the most fit I've been since I ran the Equinox Marathon a few years back. I'm not up for 26 miles yet, but I could do 13 or 15 now I'm certain. It feels good, but I want more.

Finally yesterday was my weekly weigh-in: 236 and 28% body fat. Down a pound from last week and up a % in body fat. I suspected last week's body fat estimate was a bit low. Still all this aims at a downward trend in both figures and that makes me happy.

Mileage: 16 August
Running: 9 miles

August Mileage:
On Foot: 41 miles
Biking: 62 miles

Ester Dome Ass Kicker

The elevation profile. Pretty nasty eh?

That was the name of a foot race here in Fairbanks. I'm not sure it is still in existence but I thought the name was particularly apt for my bike ride today. I pretty much kicked my own ass, but in a good way, if that is possible.

The route. Click on this for a slightly larger version

After the obligatory morning errands I hopped on my bike with the idea of a long ride. I even had the route planned out and knew it would likely be a tough one. Next weekend my partner and I and another friend are running the Equinox Marathon as a relay. I've got the middle leg which is easily the toughest. My section climbs up Ester Dome from the very bottom, then does a six mile out and back on steeply rolling terrain. I haven't been on the whole leg in quite a while and figured using my bike would be a good way to scout the trail conditions for next weekend's race. The start of the leg is several miles from home so I took advantage of the trip there to make another run down some of my favorite single track. I climbed about 800 feet up Ester Dome through my usual trails, then had a fun descent through the forest. On the descent, I rode through swarms of these small black gnats. I'd come out of the clusters of them with bugs sticking to my shirt, shorts, leg hair, and popping of my helmet like a downpour of tiny raindrops. I have no idea what they are, but I'm darned glad I'm not squeamish because at times I had many hundreds crawling all over my body, tangled in my hair and squished like roadkill on my legs.

A nifty old miner's cabin.

When I hit the dirt road at the bottom of the first descent the bugs were gone and I didn't encounter them again. I cruised the dirt road to the pavement of Ester Dome Road and turned left up the mountain. At this point I joined my leg of the marathon course. The route climbed up the pavement for a half mile then turned off on a trail to the right which climbed steeply. So steeply in fact that I hiked the bike for a few hundred yards until the angle mellowed out again. Then up, up, up through the forest and into the now lightly falling rain.

This section was a granny-gear slog at a walking pace. Tedious. A little over half way up the mountain the trail re-joins the now dirt road and continues climbing. Eventually, in the growing mist I reached the first summit, zipped down the saddle and turned off on some narrow single track which winds through a steep climb to the dome's high point. This was the begining the Out and Back, a notorious rolling and frustrating part of the marathon route. It is about 3 miles one way on rutted, muddy and often rocky jeep trails and single track. Though rolling, it descends steadily for the three miles making the return even more grueling. Mid-way down a steep hill I passed the turnaround sign. For some reason I didn't turn and just kept descending down the fun trail for another 1/2 mile. It occurred to me then, wisely, that every foot I descended I'd have to return. So, reluctantly, I turned my bike around and headed back up the hill.

I was a dozen miles and 2500 vertical feet into the ride at this point and was starting to feel it. My heart rate was zipping along as I climbed back up at nearly 80% of maximum. I was getting, as the Brits say, knackered. The few descents gave me some relief, but they were all too short. At some point here, I disassociated and have little memory of the rest of the slog back up the hill until my gasping woke me from my daze a short distance from the summit. There I sped along the level ridge then plunged back down the rocky and fairly technical single-track back to the first summit. I decided to continue down the marathon trail despite the notorious chute which drops several hundred vertical feet off the summit in just a few hundred meters. Parts of this section are too steep and rocky for me, so I dismounted and walked the bike down. At the bottom of the chute the trail turns and skirts along the slope of the mountain. There my exhaustion left me as I released the brakes and flew along through the freshly fallen Aspen leaves. Mud and water flew up onto my face, making me grateful for the rain jacked I'd donned before the descent. In a few short minutes I was back on a dirt road. The last couple of miles were over in about five minutes as the road improved from dirt to pavement and stayed steep. Then, suddenly, still tired and exhilarated from the descent I pulled into my driveway, gasping.

19 miles and 3350 vertical feet of climbing. Whew.

Me, post-ride. Muddy, tired and feeling good.

Mileage:
12 July
Running: 3.5 miles

13 July Biking:
19 miles (3350 vertical feet)

August Totals:
On foot: 32 miles
Biking: 62 miles

Yesterday

It was a bit of a Groundhog Day yesterday. I did exactly the same mileage, both running and cycling as I did the day before, even the same routes. The difference is that I pushed a bit harder both times. Clocked my 3.5 mile run in about 30 minutes and my 8.5 mile (1000 vertical foot climb) mountain bike ride in about 54 minutes. Both a few minutes faster than the day before. It still wasn't a terribly challenging day. (Still, pressing through the steep parts of the climb on my bike hurt like an SOB, though only temporarily.)

I'm getting a bit sad about winter coming. The past few days are the first cool and wet days of autumn and the leaves are tumbling off the trees. Though it is still beautiful here in the boreal forest, it won't be long until the branches are bare. Then it is just a matter of time before the first flakes start to fall. I like winter, I do. I love to ski and this year I plan to take up winter biking, but summer here is just SO damn short, and I hate to let it go.

10 Aug Mileage:
Running: 3.5 miles
Biking: 8.5 miles

August Totals:
On Foot: 28.5
Bike: 43.0

Day's mileage

It took me a bit longer than usual to get into my groove during my afternoon run. I just felt kind of stiff, and a bit of muscle pain in my shins, nothing substantial but it took a mile to loosen up. I felt like I was running slowly, not pushing, just plodding along at a comfortable pace. But when I got back to the office a little over a half hour later I realized I had been cruising at around 9 minute miles, a reasonable pace for a putz like me.

This evening I took the bike out for a ride. I didn't aim to go far or long, and I didn't, but I had one hell of an enjoyable ride. I wound up through my neighborhood trails, climbing 800 vertical feet up Ester Dome in the process. I continued up a dirt road for a short distance before winding down through some really nice, twisty single track and old mining roads before popping out on another dirt road and making my way back home via another few hundred foot climb.

Sometimes when I ride or run I'm capable of disassociating from what I'm doing. (Actually I'm fairly competent at this in most aspects of my life which drives my girlfriend crazy). I allow my mind to wander wherever it pleases. At times it ends up some very bizarre places. Today however my thoughts remained fairly cogent and I got to thinking how Fairbanks has a lousy mountain bike racing scene. We've got one stage race that occurs in June, a mixture of hill climbs, cross-country, skills course, and predicted time laps. But that's it. In my delusions of grandeur, I dream of competing in a 24hour endurance race. Which all got me to wondering what it takes to organize an event like that. And if I did go through all that trouble, would anyone even show up? Any AK bikers reading this? What do you think? Ever organized a bike race? Thoughts?

Mileage:
Running: 3.5 miles
Biking: 8.5 miles

August Mileage:
On Foot: 25 miles
Biking: 34.5

Next Weigh-In

I skipped my weigh-in last week due to my trip to the north slope. Of course while I was up there, I was eating crap and not exercising so I didn't expect today's weight to be all that great. And I was right, and wrong. My weight was up a pound from two weeks back at 237.5 but my body fat % was down by two points to 27%. Since my goal was to lose body fat and not to concentrate on pounds, I'm trying to think about that second number. Still, I can't help but wonder if that was an anomaly.

I took yesterday off. A good thing too considering how tired my muscles were from the past few days of workouts. Today, I'm feeling back up to snuff and already looking forward to a run at lunch. I'm glad I'm not yet experiencing the signs of burnout that usually hit me about this stage in a fitness regime. I'm allowing myself the small hope, that perhaps, just maybe, this time I've got the motivation to follow this through. Gawd I hope so.

What Days!

I may have had a few slack days from my time in Kaktovik, but I'm making up for it. Friday I went for a 3.5 mile run at lunch and followed that up by a very nice, just what I needed, nearly two hour, 18 mile mountain bike ride. Here in interior Alaska autumn is in full swing and the colors are glowing. When the evening light strikes the tree tops but doesn't pierce to the forest floor, it feels as though you are riding under a golden sky.


On Saturday, insufficiently tired from my previous day's exercise I took a ten mile run from my cabin to the top of Ester Dome (climbing 2300 vertical feet) and back home. I ran in the evening, I must have a thing for that sweet light and long shadows.


Atop the dome the views opened up in all directions, showing the yellow landscape of birches and aspens. After a few moments of admiration, I trotted down the dome through a tunnel of leaves.


As I descended through the forest, small views would show themselves through the trees. Goldstream Valley, the fields, tiny houses and roads seemed so far away. I continued down the trail, one step in front of the other. Running down is very hard on my knees so I took it easy through the steep sections. Throughout I enjoyed the sensation of my muscles working as they took my weight, lowered my bulk then relaxed as that foot left the ground and the other struck. I was tired when I finally climbed the stairs onto the porch, and yet felt great, like the weight of inactivity from the past several day had lifted.


Today my partner and I, with a friend, drove up Chena Hot Springs Road. After dropping my bike at the Hot Springs themselves, we backtracked to the Angel Rocks Trail and started up. The trail between the Rocks and the Hot Springs has been on our "to do" list for years and today we finally got around to it. I'm baffled why it took so long. The trail climbs steeply for about a thousand feet, levels out for a brief distance before climbing another several hundred to an alpine ridge. The highpoint is hit at about the third mile and from there, minus a few rolling stretches the trail descends gradually for another 5.5 miles to the Hot Springs. The ridge walk was fantastic with views open in all directions. I was stunned by the mountains I didn't even know existed. Tall peaks, much higher then the surrounding mountains stood up to the East in the distance, and much closer to the southeast. I couldn't (and still can't) place exactly where those mountains are. But I do know this: I want to get there. For every trip I do in Alaska, I find another dozen that need to be explored. Why is it, that I never seem to have enough time? There is a frustration in the end of summer, buffered by the thoughts of winter adventures, and more by the potential of next year.


Finally, as a last note, a great big congratulations to Geoff Roes of Juneau for his first place finish in the grueling Wasatch 100 foot race. You blow my mind Geoff.

Mileage
5 August
Running: 3.5 Miles
Biking: 18 miles

6 August:
Running: 9.5 miles

7 August
Hiking: 8.5 miles
Biking: 8 miles

August Totals:
On foot: 21.5
By Bike: 26

Hiatus and the North Slope

So that was my first hiatus from this blog. It was also a hiatus from all forms of exercise. For the past five days I've been preparing for and then guiding a photography/bear watching trip to Kaktovik. Kaktovik is way, way up there on the Arctic Ocean nestled in the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. It is a cold and windy place in the autumn but it is full of a subtle kind of beauty and a less subtle kind of animal: Polar Bears. They were everywhere, waiting for the community to catch their first whale of the season. At any time during the day we could glass the barrier islands to the north of Barter Island and see up to 20 Polar Bears sleeping the day away on the sand. Then, toward evening, they would awake, amble toward the water and swim to the main island to scavenge whatever food they could find. A couple nights ago we had 16 Polar Bears within 100 yards of the truck we were watching from.

The downside of all this is that I had no opportunity to exercise. Running through Polar bear infested tundra when the bears area all hungry is generally not advised, and there was just no opportunity. I ate crappy food at the hotel and generally accepted the fact that these four days were not going to be good for my training/fitness regime. Still it was damn good for photography:


I've got a lot of calories to lose so I'm off for a run...more later.