Summer Trail Running

La Jolla Canyon, Buckhorn, Mt Baden Powell.

Mt Baldy Run To The Top 2010

2010 was the fourth consecutive year that I've made the Labor Day scramble up the grey mass known as Old Baldy. You would think that having some experience with this race I would arrive at the starting line feeling at ease and confident. Knowing what the course holds in store has led to the opposite reaction with me. Besides the usual trepidation of the lung busting pain that was about to occur an unidentified, unsettled anxiety was hanging around in my head since my eyes popped open at 4AM. My conversation with a fellow runner prior to the race did nothing help: "Yeah, I've heard that people have died doing this race." I was 99% sure that his statement was a bunch of bull and I think he saw it on my face. "Well", he said, "I think something serious happens every year." It was at this point that I wished I brought my ipod.

Long story short I made it to the top despite the various options I gave myself to pull out. Moral of the story yet again is that sometimes one must simply go for it despite those pesky voices in the head. In the end I had a good time both literally and figuratively. The camaraderie of the race, friends, an ice cold beer at the lodge and view from the top made me glad that I rolled out of bed that morning.

2007 - 2hr38min
2008 - 2hr11min
2009 - 2hr09min
2010 - 2hr03min


(headin' back to the lift)

On the way down the trail to the chair lift a grizzled 73 year male participant slipped and nearly slid down the slope. He was more embarrassed than anything else. He said something about his dignity. He cursed his age and blamed his fall on that. I commented that it happens to everyone. He again blamed his age. I thought to myself, “I want to be able to be that active if I am fortunate enough to that age. Maybe not so crusty though”

Tyler: A True Inspiration

I believe the origin of the word Inspire comes from the Latin 'spirar' --- "to breathe life into"

Tyler's courage and attitude continues to breathe life and hope into many...

Working w/ The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team in Training one inevitably comes face to face with loss. There is more good news than bad though as advances are made all the time and, if one is lucky, they get to witness what some may call a miracle. Tyler is our youngest honored teammate at 7 years old. His spirit, humor, and fortitude inspires many. Bottle what he's got and you'd be rich, but the fact is, it is in all of us. We just need to find it and access it.

Holcomb Valley 15 Mile Trail Race 6-13-10

It's been awhile since I've written anything here. Not too inspired at the moment to keep this thing going. The running isn't as consistent as it needs to be as I'm lacking self motivation. I guess sometimes we need a break. Unfortunately that's led to some pound being packed on.

Looking to do some longer trail events in the Summer and Fall. It's time to lace them up and get out there. I'd like to re-introduce some supplemental weight training and x-training to mix things up, help my running and keep the training interesting.

In the meantime here are a few photos from last Sunday's Holcomb Valley (Big Bear) Trail Race. Altitude had me sucking wind in the beginning, but I adjusted. Made it through without hurting myself. The weather was great and the course was beautiful!

Aid Station #2



Exiting Aid #2 / God Bless America


PCT Single Track



Horses on The Course



Big Bear Lake




The Nugget Room

Saturday Morning

"Saturday morning
And who's gonna play with me
Six in the morning baby
I got a long long day ahead of me"

Team in Training since 1988 - The major fundraising arm for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Helping patients and families dealing with blood cancers and changing lives.



Run/Walk:

Disney Half Marathon ~ 9-5-2010
Nike Womens Half and Full ~ 10-17-2010

Bike:

Cool Breeze (Ventura) ~ 8-21-2010

Tri:

National Triathlon (Washington, DC) ~ 9-12-2010
Nautica Malibu ~ 9-11-2010 or 9-12-2010

Hike:

Zion National Park ~ 10-2-2010

BEAT CANCER!

Call 310.342.5800 for more info

OR visit Team in Training's website

L.A. Marathon 2010

"You have to forget your last marathon before you try another. Your mind can't know what's coming." ~Frank Shorter


Snapshots of the 2010 Los Angeles Marathon / TNT

San Juan Trail 50K 3-6-2010

(Above: Finish with the Old Goat Official Race Transport)

The San Juan Trail 50K was supposed to be a training race for upcoming mountain runs of greater distance. Throughout the day I had difficulty keeping the event in perspective. Once the gun goes off it can be difficult to approach a race like this as a casual event. The competitive juices started flowing within the first few steps. On Saturday I was running with the other participants and, once again, competing with the inner demons of doubt.

My training the week before consisted of one aquajogging session to loosen up my back. The Monday before the event I tweaked my back. I didn't throw it out of whack on a rocky trail or doing speed work. I felt the stomach turning back sting getting out of my car. Go figure. Would I be ready to tackle the trails in the Cleveland National Forest? I didn't know and I wasn't going to worry about it. With the expert care of Doctor Smith his wife Robin and his wonderful staff I arrived at the start line with the back not being an issue.




After some searching I found Blue Jay Campground and checked in. The race director, Baz, speaks with a Scottish accent and has the appropriate humor. Upon asking for a different sized race t-shirt he called me an asshole and laughed. It was all in good fun as everyone there seemed to be his friend. I then asked him about the course. "Baz, if my back is killing me past the first aid station is there anyway to get transport back to the start." "You gotta see how you feel at the 10 mile aid", Baz replied. "If you choose to suffer, that's your problem, but I'm not going to suffer." That answered my question. When the gun went off I told myself that I would run the first ten miles downhill to the first aid station and take stock of my body there.

I don't know if it was the technical nature of the trail, my unfamiliarity with it, or a bit of doubt leading into the race, but within the first two miles I found myself face down on the trail. A hidden root found my foot and down I went. I got up and took stock. A few scrapes on my knees, but everything was still working.

Two more miles down the trail and a sniper shot sent me tumbling again. No hunters here, but a loose rock that resulted in a twisted ankle and another date with the dirt. My water bottle nipple was opened and the weight of my body landing on it resulted in a squirt of lemon lime Endura sports drink in my face. The trail was humbling me. "Are you ok", a fellow runner asked. "I'm good, I answered," not really knowing if I was. I stepped to the side of the trail and did a body scan. More banged up knees, but the ankle was good enough to go. Along the trail I went. I'd already fallen twice and there were many miles to go. Self doubt crept in as I made my way to the canyon bottom and stream side. I was intently focused on the trail trying to avoid another tumble and could not admire the beauty of the area. I was having a difficult time of it stumbling on three more occasions. One of those mis steps nearly took me into the water. The pesky naysayer in my head was coming up with excuses and reasons to call it a day.

"It's just a training run"
"If I fall one more time that's it."
"This sucks, Why do I do this?"
"I'm no good at this"

I let the voices talk. Having their say I didn't do much to quiet them, but just kept telling myself to keep moving.

I arrived at the first aid station to a few cheers and a ranger who said I shouldn't leave my skin on the rocks. I assured him that I would pick it up on the way back. Here I met a fellow runner who was not only doing her first ultra... this was her first trail race! "Wow,you sure jump in head first. Good job", I congratulated.
I grabbed a few salty pretzels, refilled my liquids, thanked the volunteers and retraced my steps mostly uphill to mile twenty. I didn't find my skin. I ran the flats and small downhill chutes and power hiked the steep ups. "If I can make it to twenty miles I'll be fine." That's what I told myself.

Along the way back to the twenty mile mark I met up with a runner named Annie. She was plugging along. The company was nice and I asked if I could tag along and use her pace to help me run some sections. She kindly obliged and was very helpful in getting me up the hill at a pace I was happy with.

I reached the twenty mile aid station and grabbed some food. There was Baz the race director. "You have a few more climbs, but this section of the course is beautiful."
With that I left on the final eleven miles. The first climb out of the aid station took place on a fire road, I was happy for this as I here I could take my attention away from the trail and on to the scenary of the area. Here I met up with a runner named Ron. It had been twenty five years since he ran a marathon. Inspired by a friend who ran the Javelina Jundred (Javelina Hundred) last summer, he decided to go long too. He was using this race as training for next month's Leona Divide 50 miler. Having run LD50 last year as my first foray into this long distance (fill in the blank. stupidity, insanity, mental illness etc) I gave him a run down of the course and my experience with the distance. Ron was good company.

The fire road climb brought us to another aid station (Trabuco). While chugging a coconut water (a great sports drink I'll add) a runner came up the trail I'd soon be heading down yelling for help. "There's a runner down the trail about 200 yards and he doesn't look good! He can't hold anything down and is just sitting there!" With that two of the aid station volunteers took off to help with me behind them. They assured me they didn't need my help as the assisted the grey faced moaning runner back to the aid station. In the end he was fine. His experience reminded me of the importance of proper hydration for these things.

I continued down the trail to another stream crossing. Some portions of the trail here were comprised of broken rock making each step not only uncomfortable, but downright dangerous. Fortunately another fall was not in the cards. Here at canyon bottom I faced one more steep climb. This section of the trail is called Horse Thief Trail. I think I know why. If you were a horse thief this would be a good trail to evade the authorities. It is steep and somewhat relentless. A posse might think twice before climbing this one. What was the race director thinking putting this section in the race at this mile mark? To think he called me an asshole for asking for a different sized shirt. These race directors must have a sadistic streak in them as Gary Hilliard the RD for Mt. Disappointment has a similar climb to finish his 50K and 50 mile race.

Along the Horse Thief climb I thought of that quote from the movie Rocky. "Keep moving forward". Perhaps a bit hokey, but it helped.



A light rain developed and winds picked up a bit. Here amongst the manzanita and pines I melted into the pain and doubt and in a sense, accepted it. There was no denying it. This was hard. Once I accepted this, all was good. I wasn't doing the back and forth thing in my head. I was just there. It took me over 20 miles, but I was now enjoying the event. Better yet, I was enjoying the moment.

The final four miles of the course consisted of some small climbs and descents. I made an effort to run some of the ups and not let anyone catch me. I skipped the last aid station two miles from the finish. This final section was all downhill and I was feeling good as I approached the finish.

I crossed the finish line and was greeted by the race director. His enthusiasm is something else. He gave me a hug, patted me on the head and said, "that's a good boy. I'm proud of you."

About five minutes later Ron (the guy who I chatted with on the fire trail climb) approached the finish line. I told Baz that this was his first foray back into longer distances in twenty five years. When Ron crossed the finish Baz grabbed him, hugged him and said the same thing. "That's a good boy! Well done. I'm proud of you."

I went back to my car and grabbed some warm, dry clothes. I settled back into the finish line area and enjoyed a few beers as I watched Baz work his magic on the other finishing runners.

This was a no frills event. There were no medals for finishing unless you placed. Instead I received a long sleeve t-shirt, a few beers at the finish, scabby knees, and memories of a great day.

It turned out to be a great training race.

Happy Trails!


(I paid to run 31 miles and all I got were scabby knees and a t-shirt)

For race director Baz's recap of the day and for more photos click here:
http://www.bigbaztrailraces.com/10/50K-SJT-Mar06.htm

One Step At A Time Is Not Too Difficult

“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air, but only for one second without hope” ~Sean Swarner
(two time cancer survivor and mountain climber)





My introduction to Team in Training took place at a little deli. It was there where I saw my first TNT pamphlet on the community bulletin board. “Wow, run a marathon?” It looked interesting, but once I realized that I had to fundraise I folded it up and thought, “that’s too tough, maybe later.”

As I finished my run at the Rose Bowl one Saturday morning a stranger cheered out to me, “looking strong brother!” Before Team in Training I had been running for a year or two and was enjoying how running made me feel. I ran a handful of 5K’s and was enjoying this new community of active folks. I felt better physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. The loop around the Rose Bowl was one of my favorite routes. It was my only route.

As I walked past the group of TNT singlet clad people on my cool down the gregarious coach who encouraged my finish “looking strong brother” said hello, asked about my running and mentioned an upcoming TNT information meeting. Something about the positive vibe of those crazy TNT people resonated with me.


(Above: Coach Jimmy Dean Freeman, the gregarious coach)

A week later I planted myself in a room at the San Rafael Branch Library and listened as they said that covering 26.2 miles was a possibility. I heard a blood cancer survivor speak at this meeting. She told the story of "The Magic Bullet".... Gleevec. Gleevec is a drug that targets certain/specific cells affected by cancer. That drug was funded in large part by The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

At that time of my life I was in a rut. I felt stagnant and I was allowing old ideas to be an anchor. I wanted to do something big. I wanted to test myself. I wanted to be around a different type of person. I wanted to surround myself with positive and supportive people. The fact that TNT helped others gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling, but initially, TNT was mainly for me for me. My Grandmother Akers lost her life to lymphoma when I was ten years old and that was my closest connection to the cause. I was a kid and I didn’t get to know Grandma Akers as well as I would have liked to. I do remember the toy drawer, the orange sherbet ice cream, and her kindness.


(Above: Grandmother Akers)

When I arrived at the kickoff meeting for the Fall 2005 I was still undecided about whether I wanted to do this crazy thing. That’s not really true. I DID want to go for it, but fear and self doubts ran through my head. I remember the moment I pulled up to the street in front of the kickoff celebration site (Culver City High / home of the Centaurs). I got out of my car and stood there with the door open.  I paused there for a few seconds and entertained the idea of getting back in my car and returning home. I’m so glad I did not follow those limiting thoughts. My desire to do something better for myself and others trumped my doubts and fears. That day the Universe provided me with something that I would need a few years later.

In a nutshell my experience with Team in Training has been life changing. As both a participant and now as a coach, TNT has served as a tool (a support network) to go beyond my perceived limitations. My time with TNT has afforded my the opportunity to be surrounded by some tremendously outstanding people. People who inspire me, have been there for me during some very dark moments and people who have become good friends. Words cannot do justice to what this organization has blessed me with.


(Pre TNT 5K 2003 / Cotton shirt, socks and gym shorts - A 5K was and still is tough, but a marathon?")


(Add a dash of TNT Inspiration and amazing support
~ A 50 Mile Finish @ Leona Divide 2009)

Flash forward to my second marathon with the TEAM (The 2005 Long Beach Marathon). Things were going pretty good when somewhere around mile 22 I developed some gait altering cramps in my legs. I was struggling along when I bumped into one of my coaches. Coach Katie has often been described as the Mom of the TEAM. She’ll lend an ear and listen with compassion at times then, when you really need it, she’ll give you a swift kick in the behind and some tough love. She helped tend to my aching legs and as she peeled off to help another runner yelled to me, “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE HARD”! Those words helped me to embrace the pain and the challenge. As I worked my way towards the finish line a spectator watching the marathon must have seen my grimacing face. He cheered me on from his front yard, “ONE STEP AT A TIME, YOU’LL GET THERE!” Eventually I saw the big white FINISH banner, dug deep and kicked through to the finish. It was a good day!


("It's supposed to be hard" - Coach Katie)

To me “ONE STEP AT A TIME” is the essence of this program. One step at a time will get the shoes on your feet and you out the door moving. “ONE STEP AT A TIME” will help you reach your fundraising goal. “ONE STEP AT A TIME” will get you through injury and illness. “ONE STEP AT A TIME” will get you through tough days on the trail. “ONE STEP AT A TIME” saves lives. Honored Teammate and dear friend Virginia Garner is an example of "ONE STEP AT A TIME."

Twenty years ago there was no cure for her disease. Doctors had to conduct numerous
trials and tests to develop Gleevac (the pill she takes to enjoy her life and inspire others). Doctors had to start somewhere. “ONE STEP AT A TIME”!


(With Van and Virginia Garner @ The Mt. Disappointment 50K Finish)

Our honored Teamate Tyler and his family another example of taking life one step at a time. Young Tyler and his family have been enduring cancer for about 4 years now. Despite numerous setbacks this little boy and his family take it one day at a time. They persevere with laughter, hope and love.

(Our Hero Tyler)

“ONE STEP AT A TIME” helped and still helps my family deal with cancer. I heard the words, “The doctor says I have cancer” in March of 2006. My initial thoughts were ones of pure fear and cynicism. “I’m going to lose my Dad”, I thought. My Dad was diagnosed with a type of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma called diffuse b-cell lymphoma. I struggled with the fear produced by hearing those words for about a week until I thought of the stranger in Long Beach who yelled, “ONE STEP AT A TIME”!

“That’s it”, I thought, “this will get us through my Dad’s cancer!”

My Dad’s initial prognosis was good. “ONE STEP AT A TIME”, one doctor’s appointment at a time we were going to beat this thing and reach the finish line. I shared this attitude with my Dad and he had hope as well.

We all believed my Dad would BEAT THIS DISEASE!

Unfortunately the standard treatment protocol for my Dad’s lymphoma was not effective for him. The chemo, called R-Chop, slowed his cancer, but was not killing it. We moved to a different, harsher chemo regimen. This one worked a bit better but his cancer was stubborn. The third type of chemo that my Dad received was the harshest yet, but it looked to be working.

Unfortunately chemo kills good cells as well as cancer cells and at this point the treatment was taking a toll on my Dad’s body and immune system. An infection set in. The cancer wasn’t getting the best of my Dad, it was the treatment.


(Along the trail we get dirty)

About a week before my Dad passed on my brother and I were cleaning the carport at my parent’s place. One thing that I think really bothered my Dad was losing some of his physical strength. He was a very self reliant, robust man. Seeing the cancer beat him up his body was tough. After cleaning the carport I walked into my Dad’s room and got on a knee next to him as he rested in a recliner chair. I grabbed his hand, squeezed it and told him I was sorry that he had to endure this cancer. We looked at each other in the eyes and tears welled. “Dad, we’re going to beat this thing. Hope is our best medicine.” “I know Ki,” he said. “We’re going to beat this.”


(While coaching others to cross the finish line my support was returned 100 fold with love and support of my teammates, TNT honored Teammate potluck, Spring 2006, Dad, myself and Mom.)


On November 16, 2006 my Dad received his last chemo treatment. I saw him that late afternoon after his treatment and he was very weak.

Despite his pain he said, “you look good Ki.” and I said, “you’re looking good too
Dad I’m glad you are home”. We talked about UCLA football a bit and sat together.

That was our last meaningful verbal exchange. Looking back I think he sensed that his time here on Earth was almost done and that was his way of saying so long.

He went back to the hospital that night completely exhausted. As they put him in the ambulance I gave him a thumbs up and told him we were going to get him fixed up and back home. I truly believed that. At the hospital we discovered his platelet levels were extremely low and his B/P was weak. He also had fluid in his lungs. All of a sudden things looked bleak and I was having a conversation with the doctor and my Mom about heroic measures to save my Dad’s life. I was numb. It's wasn't supposed to be like this.

My hero, advisor, coach..my Dad was leaving this earth.

My Mom, sister and I stayed with him and, although he was out of it, I have faith that he felt our presence. At this point he was in a comatose state. We spoke to him, held his hands, kissed his face and told him to stay strong, that we were here and we love him. He battled to the end.

He crossed his finish line early morning, November 17, 2006.

All along our journey our family “TOOK IT ONE STEP AT A TIME” and never gave up
hope.



During his working life my Dad was a spacecraft engineer at JPL.


(Looking at the skies - Dad a a teenager with his homemade telescope)

Dad had a scientist’s mind. He was always looking for the edge that was going to
help him overcome his cancer. He was always taking notes and documenting things. He did that with his cancer treatment as well. A few days after my Dad passed I was reading his final journal entry that was written early morning on November 16th 2006.

It read:

6:00 am (11-16-06)

Flush intravenous catheter
Flush w/ normal saline
Nurse said eyes look good
*TAKE IT EASY
will take several vials of blood
“I have much courage”



All of us possess hope for good things to come and it takes courage to face our fears and give our best to overcome the obstacles that LIFE throws on our path. Fred Akers had hope and courage, but I gave him a little more. A little more HOPE. I know that helped him with his cancer. There are times that I am courageous and I have hope within me too, but I was given more of those two spiritual remedies from you…Team In Training. Myself and the cancer community are blessed that each of you are here walking, running, inspiring and raising money to end these diseases. Your efforts, actions, and most importantly, your spirit make a difference in the lives of others.... They have made a difference in my Dad’s life, my family’s life and mine. One step at a time TEAM!












With everlasting gratitude,

-Coach Kiley

2010

We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential. ~Ellen Goodman