So I guess it's time once again to post an extremely aggressive training plan for my next race. No it's not. It's time to post that I have no intention to train at all for my next race, or for any race after that. I've decided that training is for schmucks. A better plan, it seems to me, is to simply keep myself moderately fit all the time. Then, a few times a year, I will show up at a race I'm not quite prepared for and finish it anyway, because I'm a badass. That's my training plan.
That said, I'm signed up for my first 100-miler next March and I suspect I might have to do a few weeks of something similar to training before that to give myself a good chance of finishing. That race is the Prairie Spirit Trail 100 in Ottawa, Kansas. It goes from Ottawa to Iola and back on a smooth trail of crushed limestone which used to be a railroad. EPIC Ultras and über-race-director Eric Steele are putting it on so I know it's going to be a kick-ass event. It's going to be tough, but barring a blizzard like happened this year, I ought to be able to finish.
I chose Prairie Spirit for my first attempt at 100 miles because of the course and the race director, but also because of the timing. I'm running 24 The Hard Way on October 26th, then I have a few months of down time before Rocky Raccoon 50 on February 8th. (RDG and Soub, if you're free, you ought to come out to Huntsville State Park and see me finish. Mrs. DMG, The Donald Situation, and my mom will all be there and my sister is going to be pacing me the last lap. They would all love to meet you, as would I!) I can spend a few weeks recovering from Rocky, hammer out a few hard runs over the next month, and then have a long taper into Prairie Spirit which is on March 29th. The rhythm is just too perfect!
My goal for 24 The Hard Way, then, is simply to gage how much training I will need to do before Prairie Spirit. I will show up at Bluff Creek Park, Oklahoma City, having done no training at all, and see how many laps of the 0.96173-mile paved loop I can complete in 24 hours. Anything more than 84 laps will put me on pace to complete the Prairie Spirit Trail 100 within the 30-hour cutoff, meaning I would not have to train for that race either. Anything less than 84 laps means I may indeed have to do a few training runs to give myself a decent chance of finishing my first hundred. But I doubt I would ever do that. Training is for schmucks!
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Sunday, August 18, 2013
My Closet
I don't actually have a closet. Fortunately, The Donald Situation graciously allows me to store my outdoor stuff in the back corner of his walk-in closet. The two black and yellow storage totes are new. One holds my tents and my backpack, the other just some miscellaneous camping gear. The yellow duffel bag holds every bit of running gear I own. My grey Paco Pad hangs on the wall behind the door. And of course, my Craftsman tool box is plenty large to hold every tool I will ever need for the rest of my life.
There is no kayak in this closet, stood on its end and bungeed to the closet rod. There are no throw ropes, PFDs, sprayskirts, or helmets spilling off the edge of my toolbox, no paddles reaching to the ceiling. I did not hedge my bets by hanging on to some small piece of kayaking gear. It is all completely gone.
Kayaking was the last activity I got into because I thought the gear was cool, and I had a lot of fun with it. Ultimately, though, I've reached a point where merely owning the gear associated with an activity no longer satisfies me. I need to actually do the activity to really enjoy it. I wasn't kayaking, so I got rid of all the kayaking crap.
In '08 when everything hit the fan, I had a 12' x 30' storage room so packed with stuff you had to climb to get through it. I had a trailer full of mowers and trimmers, a fishing boat mounted to a customized PWC trailer, multiple kayaks, multiple drum kits I couldn't play, tubes for launching fireworks, and a dismantled dog kennel. I had a fucking South Bend lathe cabinet. I can't remember what else was in there. Bit by bit, some by ebay, some by Craigslist, some by garbage truck, the shit disappeared. The stuff in Donald's closet is all that's left.
I'm never going back.
There is no kayak in this closet, stood on its end and bungeed to the closet rod. There are no throw ropes, PFDs, sprayskirts, or helmets spilling off the edge of my toolbox, no paddles reaching to the ceiling. I did not hedge my bets by hanging on to some small piece of kayaking gear. It is all completely gone.
Kayaking was the last activity I got into because I thought the gear was cool, and I had a lot of fun with it. Ultimately, though, I've reached a point where merely owning the gear associated with an activity no longer satisfies me. I need to actually do the activity to really enjoy it. I wasn't kayaking, so I got rid of all the kayaking crap.
In '08 when everything hit the fan, I had a 12' x 30' storage room so packed with stuff you had to climb to get through it. I had a trailer full of mowers and trimmers, a fishing boat mounted to a customized PWC trailer, multiple kayaks, multiple drum kits I couldn't play, tubes for launching fireworks, and a dismantled dog kennel. I had a fucking South Bend lathe cabinet. I can't remember what else was in there. Bit by bit, some by ebay, some by Craigslist, some by garbage truck, the shit disappeared. The stuff in Donald's closet is all that's left.
I'm never going back.