Priorities

My wife has been getting into the Enneagram lately. I haven't taken the test or read the book (mostly out of stubborn resistance to being labeled), but she's been trying to identify my number. She thinks I'm a one - sometimes called a "perfectionist." To be clear, I don't display OCD tendencies or beat myself up when things don't work out exactly as planned, but I think she's right. One manifestation of this personality for me is difficulties in making big decisions.

We all buy shoes, clothes, an occasional car, groceries. You ever stand in the bread aisle for 5 minutes deciding which bread has the best nutritional value for the money? I have. I will research running shoes for MONTHS before buying a new pair. I'm trying to maximize the bang for the buck. Sometimes I get it right and sometimes I have buyers remorse. I'm getting better, and I have realized that if I wait until I actually need something, I can make a good decision quickly and CHOOSE to accept my decisions. For instance, I needed a new car about a year ago. In rare form, I found and purchased a new one in about 2 weeks time. That's probably slow by some standards, but I could have taken YEARS to make that decision.

Buying things is pretty minor though. It's just a pair of shoes or even a car. There's not a lot to lose if the decisions doesn't work out. What about really big decisions though? Here lately, I've been doing a lot of budgeting and future planning, thinking about things like retirement, life insurance, saving for a house. Big decisions with big implications. It's stressin' me out y'all, and there's a good bit of "paralysis by analysis" trying to find the BEST decision.

How much do we need for retirement? 20% of income? 25%? How much life insurance should we buy? 20yr or 30yr? And how the heck can we buy a house AND save for retirement AND still live the life we want in the present?

So over the past few months I've been digging into these questions. I've read books, listened to podcasts, scoured the internet, and revised and revised budget. And I think I have finally found the answer - there is NOT a right answer. Really - I've sure looked at a lot of "expert" commentary, and it's all over the place. No wonder it stresses me out if it confuses everyone else too.

Strangely, the lack of a right answer is somehow liberating for me. HOW? Well, there is no right answer because all of our plans for the future are simply feeble attempts to control something uncontrollable. We're grasping at smoke. I don't know when I'll retire or die or what the rest of my life will look like. No matter what I choose, it will be a GUESS. A guess. I'm hinging my future stability on guesses! It's laughable actually. There's something like 25% chance I'll be dead by 67 (social security retirement age), and a similar chance of being disabled before then. I'm supposed to bet on whether I'll be alive or able to work? Pretty absurd right?

Here's the deal: we cannot and do not control the future, so we better get used to it. I'm trying to. A lot of that process is reminding myself of scriptures.

A man’s heart plans his way, But the Lord directs his steps. (Proverbs 16:9)

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. (Matthew 6:34)

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

We have a loving God who promises to take care of our future. He has already taken care of the past and is taking care of the present. This is not a recipe for laziness or a laissez faire attitude about responsibility. Rather it is a loosening of the chains, a shucking of the burden to control every aspect of our lives. Make the best decision you can, fully recognizing that ultimately the outcome is not in your hands.

So what am I gonna do about retirement planning? Well, I've run some comparison numbers - low and high estimates of need for retirement savings and life insurance. We'll probably settle somewhere in the middle with a strategy that will ensure we're taken care of in the future but will not enslave our ability to enjoy the present. We're made for eternity, which means our time here on earth is miniscule. Think about that. The way we spend our time, energy, and money reflect our hearts. Let's set our hearts on eternal things and let that inform our earthly priorities.

Living a Dream or a Nightmare?

Ask yourself for one moment what your feelings have been on the eve of some act involving courage, whether it has been physical courage as it is commonly called, or moral or intellectual . . . what has happened to you? If it has really called forth courage, has it not felt something like this? 

I cannot do this. This is too much for me. I shall ruin myself if I take this risk. I cannot take the leap, it's impossible. All of me will be gone if I do this, and I cling to myself.
And then supposing the Spirit has conquered and you have done this impossible thing, do you find after that you possess yourself in a sense that you never had before? That there is more of you? . . . So it is throughout life . . . you know "nothing ventured nothing won" is true in every hour, it is the fibre of every experience that signs itself into the memory.
--J.N. Figgis

We had hiked for nearly 3 hours over boulders and through brush, following the magical rock pile cairns that appear out of nowhere. We had turned away from the "fast" 5th class "approach" already and were now looking at what was described as "the best option."

I beg to differ.

This option started with a smooth slab climbing out of the creek to a ledge. From that ledge overlooking the valley, we trended up along more exfoliating slabs. It was on that seemingly endless stretch of slabs, nearly losing my hat to the wind, that my emotions got the best of me. The upper walls seemed to crash down on me, while the rock under foot seemed to slide away to the abyss. The worst part was knowing there was no retreat. My only option was to keep shuffling into the unknown. And this was only the approach?!

One year ago, I found the Live Your Dream Grant and immediately sought to apply. I was in a bit of a dry spell regarding climbing. I had completed most of the first two years of pharmacy school, kept busy with studying, working, and organizational commitments. Even though I live just an hour from some of the best sport (and trad, I would argue) climbing in the world at the Red, I had not been climbing much. In fact, I had turned back to running to provide the challenge and activity I often crave. Qualifying for the Boston Marathon had become my focus, a goal towards which I worked for nearly 10 months. Coincidentally, the grant application was due about when I would run my qualifying race. I would need new goals after the race, and the pull of the vertical was growing strong again.

Qualifying for Boston in DC. Though I qualified, I did not make the time cutoff for registration which gave me more time to train for this climbing trip!

Blake and I started climbing at the same time in the same places with the same influences. We cut our teeth on Tennessee sandstone and learned to appreciate traditional climbing and on-sight style from our mentors. Some of my first climbs were multi-pitch trad at Lumpy Ridge. We both had our share of ignorant and sketchy newb situations. With that background, it's not surprising that we both developed a desire to climb bigger, badder routes.

My tick-list includes mountain routes, such as The Beckey-Chouinard in the Bugaboos, The Casual Route on Long's Peak, The Scenic Cruise in the Black Canyon, long free routes in Yosemite, routes on the Incredible Hulk in California, and ultimately routes in Patagonia. Climbing those routes seems like flying to the moon sometimes. Many of them require diverse skill sets - moving fast, simul-climbing, glacier travel, route finding, and a lot of general mountain sense. Those are skills that the single pitch routes of TN and KY and even the short multi-pitch of NC cannot develop.

Learning the ropes of multi-pitch climbing on an early trip to Lumpy Ridge

Red Rock Canyon in Nevada is a climber's playground, though, offering a smorgasbord of bouldering, single pitch, multi-pitch, aid, and adventure climbing with easy access from a major city. It seemed like the perfect location to take the next step in elevating our skills. Our big goals for the trip were to climb Levitation 29, Epinephrine, and maybe Inti-Watana; to avoid being caught in the dark; and to accumulate 5000 ft of vertical climbing over a week. We would take some rest days and fill out the week with shorter, easier climbing. This plan would provide lots of experience with long routes, efficient belay transitions, long approaches, navigating descents and rappels, and building a general tolerance for long days.

So if I was following my own plan, then why did I feel crippled by fear and anxiety?

Our week started by diving right into multipitch routes in Black Velvet Canyon. We climbed The Gobbler on the first afternoon followed by Sour Mash on day 2 for 10 pitches total of 5.9 and 5.10. We climbed well together and the routes were high quality, but I was not feeling great. Maybe it was the shady, windy canyon or maybe it was adapting to a new environment. Regardless, the prospect of climbing 10+ cold pitches on Epinephrine later in the week did not sound nice. I wasn't ready for that and had all but written it off by day 3. I needed some confidence boosting.

What a beautiful place with relatively easy access.

Blake following an upper pitch of Sour Mash, I believe.

On the following day, our rest day, we hiked into Oak Creek Canyon to scout Levitation 29. Despite being several letter grades harder than Epinephrine, the relative shortness, bolted nature, and ability to retreat made it much more appealing than Epinephrine. Despite nearly breaking down on the approach, we made it to the wall, and I was ready to hoof our gear right back down! In what I consider the first of God's mercies, we met Dave and Erin, two Canadians rappelling Levitation. Their energy, encouragement, and kindness of showing us an easier approach (the 3rd, long and slow option by the giant pines) was just the nudge I needed to leave our rack and rope at the base.

One of the few relaxing moments on our exhausting "rest day."

I had to force this smile big time.

That night, I struggled to dig into my anxiety and fear, and I prayed hard. I asked for safety and protection but mostly peace of mind, so that I could fully engage my surroundings. This following verse brought me much comfort, and I wrote it on my arm as a reminder.

Yet those who wait for the LORD Will gain new strength; They will mount up with wings like eagles, They will run and not get tired, They will walk and not become weary. Isaiah 40:31 (NASB)

The next day found us back at the base after a 4:30am wakeup. Our snack break put us 2nd in line behind Ryan and Jake from CO, but those turkey and avocado wraps hit the spot. Over the next 6 hours, we climbed and rappelled the first 7 (and supposedly most worthwhile) pitches. The weather was perfectly sunny and calm, the setting stupendous, and the climbing high quality and fun. We could not have envisioned a better day (except for aiding the crux)! Our ascent was even christened by a couple stunt planes diving through the canyon. They made climbing look boring! Climbing Levitation was the jumpstart I needed. In my daily call to my wife, I could finally say, "I'm having fun!"

Approaching Levitation as the sun makes its appearance in Oak Creek Canyon. We basked in the sun all day.

This photo makes our 3rd class approach look terrifying. You'll have to trust me it is much easier than it looks and much more mellow than the 1st two options in the Handren guide. The two giant pines marking the start of the slabs can be spotted off Blake's right shoulder. They truly are massive and really stand out.

Blake getting started on the somewhat tricky first pitch.

Blake following somewhere mid route. The route starts so high, so we really felt out there. The position is pretty spectacular. Only if he'd worn better colors...

Cruising and feeling good mid route.

That's the crux coming up - fist jam to THIN face.

Can we be done now? I was really pleased to climb all of my leads on-sight, including the P2 11a roof and some 10ds.

Excited to have accomplished our goal! We rappelled after P7, feeling content with climbing the best pitches and not desiring to walk off.

Having started so early, we had plenty of time to leisurely hike out, shower, and chow down in town.

Having accomplished one of our big goals and feeling pretty wrecked from the 12 hours of hiking over the past 2 days, we slept in and spent the day cragging. What a contrast! The second pullout felt like the Mecca of spring breakers. In fact, climbing felt like a spectator sport at times, as more people seemed to be standing around than climbing. I have no complaints about the climbing, though. The short routes of the Gallery and the shady routes of Sweet Pain Wall were a lot of fun. The best part of the day, though, was chowing down on the remainder of my CHICKEN PARMESAN STROMBOLI from the night before. Fried chicken covered in melted cheese and marinara sauce baked into a hearty loaf of deliciousness. I'm pretty sure every other climber was jealous (as they should have been). That's my ringing endorsement for Mark Rich's Pizza down the road. Getcha some!

Special delivery! Sending fuel.

At that point in the trip, we were starting to find our groove. We finally developed a knack for understanding where to climb based on the sun/shade conditions. Moreover, I think we both desired to do something a little more adventurous than Levitation 29 and the face routes of Black Velvet Canyon. Adventure Punks caught our attention. It's 5 pitches are almost entirely trad protected and run through several crack systems, all at a consistent 5.10 grade. The most notable pitches bookend the route. Pitch 1 starts with a 5.9 slab runout to a hollow flake, and pitch 5 finishes with an offwidth (supposedly great if you have the gear).

I told my partner, Blake, the night before that I would not lead the first pitch. I'm not about decking high above a valley, several miles back in a drainage. He volunteered, a decision I think he later regretted. Ultimately, we decided to take an alternate crack start to the left of the first pitch that led to the same anchor. It was certainly not as aesthetic as the P1 flake system, but it had (OK) gear. The trail of blood drips we followed all the way to the base of the route may have impacted that decision. Yikes.

Mescalito is such an adorable little cone. Who wouldn't want to climb it? Adventure Punks is down the left canyon on the left wall.

This hike felt short and mellow compared to the slog down Oak Creek.

The climb begins on the small ledge in the bottom half of the photo and works up to the thin flake system. There's no nice way to put it; the flakes are NOT bomber and a fall could be pretty ugly. We took the crack system on the left that angles in above the flake system. It certainly was not a stellar pitch either, but the leader would not take a ground fall. The rest of route climbs the left facing corner above, though it's far from a pure "crack" climb.

Surprisingly, Adventure Punks was one of my favorite experiences of the trip. The climbing was not especially exceptional or even straight forward. The rock was often friable or hollow. The gear was frequently thought-provoking and sparse. Despite all these challenges, I really enjoyed the route. In fact, I think the challenges and my responses are what made the route fulfilling. I had been anxious and tense up until Levitation. Now with some confidence and comfort, I was finally embracing difficulties. In describing the route to our wonderful campsite companions, Steve and Kelly from Tahoe, I used the term "engaging." Adventure Punks brought the best out of me and required me to channel the focus described in Arno Ilgner's The Rock Warrior's Way. For example, the last pitch we did, pitch 4, finished with an aesthetic 5.10 finger crack. When reaching the finger crack, I was almost out of gear and still had about 25 feet to go. I was able to wiggle in a medium size stopper at the bottom of the crack and then a tiny, 0.1 BD X4 cam a few feet higher. This was the decision point. I could hang. I could downclimb. Or I could push on. All at once, I was committed and moving, replacing thought (and fear) with action. Climbing the last few meters high above that small cam to clip the chains was the most rewarding pitch of the trip for me.

Pitch three may be the most crack of the four pitches we climbed, following a finger size dihedral.

One full day remained. We had already achieved some of our goals, including climbing Levitation 29, doing some adventurous trad climbing, practicing efficiency, and covering lots of ground. As we ate dinner with Steve and Kelly, we considered some long routes and potential linkups. Steve told us about his past experiences and favorite climbs. About 9pm, as we were wrapping up the evening, the call came. I wanted to climb Epinephrine. Feeling like an addict or someone going back to an abusive relationship, I broke the news to Blake. All week we had found reasons to not climb Epi. It had been cold and windy, but the temps for the following day were near 80. It was LONG - double the length of anything else we had done, but we had been moving well together. Were we volunteering to suffer? In some ways, I think the spontaneous decision was beneficial for my mental state. We hurriedly packed our bags and got to bed for our 4:30am alarms without much time for anticipation.

Nothing gets a body going in the morning like some epinephrine. 

Epinephrine was full value. We ended up 3rd in line, beat again by Ryan and Jake from Levitation. Due to some delays, stuck gear, and general slowness of chimney climbing, we did not get on the wall until 8am. The first 6 pitches through the chimneys went smoothly, if slowly. I drew the 2nd, crux chimney, which required calf-pumping feet-to-back stemming. The pitch was actually fun, including underclinging around a large flake and then pulling through a flaring, overhanging crack. Again, I found myself with slim pickins for gear as I approached the belay. With no hand pieces or slings left for the final crack, I settled for a stopper clipped with my scavenged nut-tool carabiner and hoped the rope wouldn't pull it out.

Blake following the long middle chimney which can be broken into two pitches, if desired. It was really fun climbing with good gear. I appreciated having a #5 through the bottom section.

To be honest, much of the climbing blends together. The chimneys were physical, as always, and the climbing above was pretty easy with high exposure. The overall experience was exceptional and the best way to end the trip. The ascent took us ~10hrs, done in 12 pitches, plus simul-climbing to the last traverse. [Note: There are no anchor bolts for the last two belays. Simply head forward and right from the top of vertical climbing on the path of least resistance on mostly 3rd and 4th class around the corner to the catwalk before the finish tree. We simuled with minimal gear in gritty rock.] It was there that I had another Jesus moment. The traverse was much easier than it looked but both the preceding "5.4 step" and the finishing traverse are incredibly exposed, no-fall, YOU'RE GONNA DIE (if you slip) terrain. I knew I just had to get to the tree, and then it would be over. It felt good to finally stand on a summit!

At the TOP!

Whatever happens to these logs?

Made it to the main canyon trail as the sun set, avoiding any wandering in the dark. The party behind us did not make it down until 1:30am. I'm sure they are tougher for it.

About 1h 45mins later, we were back at the car, just after sunset. The rest of the evening consisted of downing some beers, gorging on Mexican food, and appreciating our full-body soreness. A solid night's sleep and some easy cragging the next day rounded out a phenomenal trip.

Already I can sense my memories and emotions morphing and shifting. The anxiety, fear, and uncertainty are slowly yielding to fonder memories and fulfillment. I wondered all week about what adventure means to me and its place in my climbing. This was my vacation, and I spent much of it learning how to suffer. Is that what I really want? "Type 2 fun" was the name of the game. That's exactly what I signed up for, though. The purpose of the trip was to help me develop the skills and mindset for tackling big, long routes in hostile environments. In that regard, this trip provided everything I desired and more. It challenged me in ways I did not expect (mostly exposure). I imagine spending more time on exposed 4th class terrain is the only way to overcome that discomfort.

My weekends this spring  and summer at the Red most likely won't be filled with groveling up offwidths or bushwacking to find the obscure and forgotten routes. I have some nice splitters and clip-ups to tackle first. In a little time, though, once the scary moments have faded some more, I will be yearning for some more struggle. It's too early to even say what is next, but somewhere there is a challenge waiting for me to heed the call.

I want to thank the American Alpine Club for supporting this trip through the Live Your Dream Grant. How cool that an organization helps fund both groundbreaking alpine first ascents and the average Joe's climbing trip.  I will definitely remain a member and encourage you to join AND apply! I know I gained more from this trip than I even know at this point and look forward to applying on future big climbs!

The Climbing Details

• Day 1 - The Gobbler, 10-, 3 pitches
• Day 2 - Sour Mash, 10-, 7 pitches
• Day 3 - Levitation 29 approach scouting, 
• Day 4 - Levitation 29, 11c, 7 pitches
• Day 5 - Rest/Cragging - Calico Hills, 2nd Pullout
• The Gallery
• Sweet Pain Wall
• Day 6 - Adventure Punks, 10b, 4 pitches
• Day 7 - Epinephrine, 9, 12 pitches
• Day 8 - Cragging - Calico Basin
• Cannibal Crag

What I Learned

• How to trail and rappel with a tagline
• Keeping an organized belay with multiple ropes
• Coiling ropes in saddlebag fashion is very useful for windy days
• Hanging belays are a pain. Try to avoid them.
• Don't fight the conditions. When it's cold, climb in the sun. When it's hot, find the shade.
• Don't pass a nice rappel station. Investigate the best rappel options before the climb.
• Beware parties above you and falling gear
• On approaches, retrace your footsteps if unsure
• It takes some time to get acclimated to a new place

Perched on the Elephant

The Story

My first significant climbing trip was to Estes Park, CO, for multipitch trad climbing. I signed up through my college outdoor rec department on a whim. I didn't have gear. I didn't lead. For most of my life I'd barely been above sea level. Despite falling on 5.7 slab and bailing on 5.8 cracks, the feeling of being up high in the mountains seduced me. Now I've been climbing rocks for 7 years. I've spent most of my time in the Southeast climbing single pitch routes, but the tug of the mountains has never ceased.

Somewhere on the book of Lumpy Ridge in 2008. I had never been somewhere so impressive, climbing cracks while looking at the mountains.

The Bugaboos, Incredible Hulk, Patagonia, and Yosemite are the places that draw me. Places that will challenge me mentally and physically. Over the years, I have slowly acquired more skills in the mountains. Fortunate to have traveled to some great American climbing venues, I've been able to tick off maybe one bigger route per year. Each time the routes and approaches are getting longer, bringing me one step closer to the big mountain routes of my dreams. For several years now, the Elephant's Perch of Idaho has been on my radar as one of those stepping stones. I first saw the beautiful golden face and overhanging diamond in 2009. I've been to Idaho five times for family vacation, and the Perch has continued to wait for me.

Thankful for this log bridge being in place this year after turning around at the creek last year.

All the waiting and preparation made the ascent all the sweeter! I enjoy that part of the growing process. Every now and again I'm able to snag a harder-than-usual route, perhaps a nice onsight, and it is exciting, but I know I have gotten away with something. On any sort of project or goal route on which I have spent a lot of energy (physical or mental), the ascent feels earned. Trusting the process has allowed me to not rush my climbing. The project list is long, for sure, but I plan on climbing a long time, and I look forward to improving every year for many to come.

Looking up at P1. I found the climbing to be blocky and discontinuous up the gully with an occasional thought-provoking move. With the pitch moving quickly and not experiencing much rope drag (not much gear), I kept going past the mantle move and into a shallow crack system to belay (just below the nice, flat belay ledge of P2, unfortunately).

Each route teaches me something new. Getting a rope stuck (while leading) on the Flatirons taught me something about protecting a route and problem solving alone on a face. My first foray into Idaho climbing, on Super Slab, taught me how to retreat and to not overestimate my abilities or heed my ego. Devil's Tower taught me the benefits of racking light (because I brought too much). The Nose of Looking Glass taught me the importance of conditions (as we froze). The Mountaineer's Route of Elephant's Perch taught me how to string together a long day. 

I was expecting the day to be tight, requiring us to make it shuttle to shuttle in under 12 hrs. With 3+ miles of hiking each way and 6 pitches of climbing, I knew it would push us, and it did. We ended up climbing the route in about 7hrs, reaching the top at 5pm, leaving only 2 hours to traverse the mountain, descend, and hike out. The simple gully walk-off was much more of an issue than expected. The route finishes relatively low on the shoulder. While the taller routes top out and allow a ridge traverse down to the gully, we had a long traverse on the backside to reach the ridge. Due to slabs and snow patches, we also had to descend (and hike back up) several hundred feet of ledges and talus. It took an hour to get to the gully, leaving us no hope of making it back in time for the last shuttle. Our saving grace was our family, who were able to keep track of our progress via cell phone. They took the last shuttle back and worked on arranging a later shuttle to retrieve us and save us the 6+ mile hike around the lake. We made it back to the dock at 8:30pm, about 13hrs after arriving, waterless, and dragging. Two gatorades, a nice dinner, and a hot soak later, I slept like the dead.

I hate to say it, but the long day and tough descent took away from the positive climbing experience for me. I kind of felt like I could not take the time to really celebrate and take in the ascent. In fact, it's taken me over a month to write about it simply because I have not been that excited. I am trying to realize, though, that if I want to reach my goals, I have to accept the good and bad - the long approaches, offwidths, exhausting days, parched throats, and poor conditions. Sometimes you have to climb the junky pitches to get to the good ones! I desire the full mountain experience after all. Otherwise, I'd just stay at the crag. So little by little I get smarter, faster, and tougher, and one step closer to my goals.

The Dirty Details

Low snow fall and a hot summer allowed for our early season attempt in mid-June. The log bridge was in place (thanks locals!) and only patches of snow covered the trail. After taking the first shuttle across Redfish Lake about 7am, we reached the wall a little before 10am. I tried to eat some sandwich but my stomach was still in knots. Action is often the best treatment for anxiety, so we set off.

The first pitch gully climbing was relatively mellow and quick. I opted to climb as far as possible for efficiency and linked P1 and P2. Given the broken and easier climbing, I sparsely placed gear, and the rope drag was not much issue. The top of the second pitch offered some heads up climbing moves - climbing out of the chimney/gully over an overhanging block and then traversing to the mantle. Unfortunately I set a semi-hanging belay in a shallow crack system just above the mantle. That left us just below the large ledge belay below P3. It made for a less than ideal first multipitch belay for my partner!

Our second pitch then brought us to the bolted belay below the triple roofs. The climbing was very nice mellow cracks and edges. But the real money was coming next pulling around the roofs. The Perch is already pretty high as it sits in an alpine cirque at the edge of a bigger valley, so the exposure is amplified. The juggy side pulls and underclings of the roof lead right to the arete and lots of air! That was the most I've smiled on a route in a long time! The rest of the pitch is scrappy gully climbing below the diamond.

Coming up to the belay below the triple roofs.

Our 4th pitch was the face below the diamond. Finding a protectable start was the biggest challenge. I found it best to start almost at the top of the gully and then to traverse back out left some, following discontinuous flakes up the face. The top offered either crack climbing up a detached flake/block on the right or airy climbing up the arete. I opted for the flake which felt secure enough and setup our semi-hanging belay right at the arete with beautiful exposure. It was at that belay that our family made it up into the cirque and got some great shots.

 

 

 

  

Climbing next to the diamond is pretty special. It is massive and entirely blank! Plus the next two pitches offer the best and most continuous climbing on the route. As I climbed the fingercrack dihedral of the next pitch, I just wanted to keep climbing. It is probably even possible to run the 5.9 finger cracks of pitch 5 all the way through the crux of pitch 6 for one rope stretching pitch of stellar crack climbing! As I led it, however, I set the belay right where a prominent horizontal crack connects the finger crack on the left with the blockier original route on the right. In truth, I did not notice the horizontal until after I had set the hanging belay in the finger crack. My partner was not appreciating me missing all the nice belays. The crux fist crack bulge came next. I found the climbing to be very secure although the most strenuous of the route. After the crux I opted to run it all the way thru the offwidth type section to the top of the technical climbing.

Really fine climbing towards the top of the route.

  

Elephants Perch Conditions - Summer 2014

I have been going to the Sawtooth Mountains near Stanley, ID, since summer 2009. My wife and in-laws have vacationed there for close to a dozen years now, and we typically spend a week in the area annually. During my first visit, my wife (who was working in the area at the time) took me up to"Shangri-La," better known as Saddleback Lakes below Elephant's Perch. We made an ill-fated attempt at climbing the Central Gully of Super Slab on the approach to Saddleback [that trip is covered here].

It's steeper than it looks. Free-soloing to the first tree was ill-advised.

As a young climber, I was amazed by the towering golden face of Elephant's Perch above me. I hoped that one day I would be able to measure up. Five years later, my brother-in-law and I established plans to highjack one of the vacation days to attempt Mountaineer's Route. I watched mountain project like a hawk and contacted The Elephant's Perch shop in Ketchum for recent updates. Due to the nature of our trip (a family vacation), we were opting for a single day attempt. We would catch the earliest 7am boat shuttle across Redfish Lake, hike the 2-3 miles in, climb the route, and hopefully catch one of the last shuttles back. We figured that would give us adequate time for the nine pitches of the route. If not, we could suffer the slog back to the parking lot around the lake.

Obligatory shot. One cannot resist capturing the beauty of this place. MR is around to the left.

We would be there during the last week of June. Knowing that was pretty early in the alpine season, we expected some snow on the approach and summit, along with potential for higher water levels and potentially cold temps (40s + shade). In preparation, we borrowed two ice axes just in case.

What Conditions Did We Find?
The boat ride is wonderful and the hike is mellow until the traditional creek crossing. In the past, I had crossed on a natural log jam (shown below). This time, however, the heavy runoff had washed out the logs leaving no way to cross. I had read about a potential crossing farther down, so we walked a few more minutes around some bends until the woods opened up some and approached the creek for a look. At this point, the creek was deeper and slower moving. Someone had strung a hand line between trees above a partially submerged log (shown below).

So much for the crossing.

The new, slightly damper, and more adventurous crossing.

We ultimately decided to not risk falling in with packs. The low lying position of the log plus the wobbly hand line wigged us out, and we were thrown quite off guard by the situation. Later in the morning, I successfully and quite easily crossed the log without a pack, confirming my suspicion that we simply wimped out. In fact, we saw several backpackers coming out from the lakes via that crossing.

Scouting Mission
Our plans were foiled and we enjoyed a nice hike into the valley instead. The hike is probably my favorite of all the Sawtooth hikes I have done and reminded me of the Tetons. The trip was not a completely waste as we had fun and were able to take some photos of the route from a rarely captured angle. From the lakes, most of the route is not visible.

This Year
We are headed back this year and hope to make another attempt. Unfortunately, we will be there even earlier, but it seems like snowfall has been a little lower. Perhaps we'll luck out. At least I will feel confident using the hand line this time!

Route Photos Below:

Topo of the route from http://web.stanford.edu/~clint/eperch/mtneer.gif

The whole face, with the MR going up the left side of the diamond.

The top of the route. Click and zoom for more detail. There seem to multiple options next to the diamond: easier but looser in the gully (in the shadow) or harder, more direct cracks on the face.

Lower/Middle route below the diamond. The triple roofs appear to be in the big triangular shadow down low followed by going around the corner and then up to the base of the diamond. The first 3 pitches are not really visible due to their right-facing nature. 

Creek crossing with hand line and partially submerged log. The creek may be fordable just upstream but don't be fooled by the clear water. It is actually probably 5-6ft deep.

Informative trip reports:

https://www.kuhl.com/borninthemountains/portfolio/trip-report-elephants-perch-mountaineers-route/

http://chossclimbers.com/testing/us/idaho/sawtooths/mountaineers-route-on-the-perch/

I Qualified!

That's right! Last weekend, both my wife and I qualified for the Boston Marathon 2016. I ran 3:04 and she ran 3:26. Overall, it was a fantastic weekend with college friends, and it was so fulfilling to complete this yearlong goal!

The Weather
We knew going into the race that it would likely be rainy. However, the temps were pretty good - 50s. While water can add some weight, I thought I still had a chance of running a fast time with good temps. After all, I nice day of running has been rare this winter. I opted for light and fast clothes - singlet and shorts and ball cap. It worked out well, and I never was very cold minus some tingly hands and forearms which I am used to.

Race Breakdown
It was amazing how fast the race went by. With so many people and changing scenery, the miles ticked by. I started in corral 2 and was at the 5k mark before I knew it. Through the initial miles, my pace was too fast (6:30-6:45) but I was feeling good minus a slightly heavy belly from one too many Grab the Gold bars in the morning. In those initial miles, all the half and full runners are mixed together, people are jockeying for position, and it is easy to get caught up in it.

For the middle miles, I fell in with a consistent group of runners. I kept edging up next to a tall, college-age kid running my pace, so I finally asked him what time he was going for. He, too, was attempting to BQ, and on his first marathon attempt too (he did)! We cruised together for ~8miles, through the halfway point, 16, 18, etc. I think it really helped to have a partner through those miles to keep me consistent. We knocked out 7:00 miles one after another. I kept thinking about Scott Jurek, the famed ultrarunner. In one of his early attempts at the Badwater Ultramaraton through Death Valley, he collapsed halfway through, completely spent. He convinced himself that the only way he could finish is if he approached the rest of the race as brand new, like he had started over. He went on to win and set a new course record. I told Geoff, my new partner, at 13.1, "brand new race," and we started the countdown from there.

Eventually I left Geoff and headed out solo. I was still holding steady paces, but starting to feel the fatigue coming in during miles 18-20. Having only single digit miles left kept me moving. Due to the heavy belly, I delayed my first gel until about mile 10. About mile 19 I choked down another 1/2 gel or so. I was feeling OK in energy but wanted to delay the "wall" as I progressed beyond my longest training run of just 16miles. These miles were tough because the half- runners were gone, the bands were rare, and the crowds were absent. I think it's in these middle miles where mental focus and toughness are important to bridge the gap between the adrenaline of starting and the relief of nearly finishing.

The last 10k were both hard and exhilarating. It's only 10k to go. At that point in a marathon, I have run so far and so long, I think what's another 40 mins?! The course winds through a park across the river from main DC and the finish for the last few miles. I was pretty isolated with just a couple runners in sight. My legs were feeling tired, and I dreaded a debilitating cramp. Plus, the second of 2 significant hills occurred from miles 22-23. Man! There was a lot of self-talk going on. "You can do this. You are doing this!" "Keep the pace, Gary, keep the pace!" "Come on - just keep going."

Throughout the last 5-10k, my pace was still good even as the effort increased. I even dropped a 6:40 mile at mile 19. The hill at 22 got me though, and dropped my pace back to 7:19. Some downhills gave some relief and took me back under 7:00, fortunately. In the last 2 miles, I was just hanging on, struggling to put one foot in front of the other. The last 1.2miles were at 7:28 pace. I knew I had done it, though, which kept me going. Coming through the finishing chute, I was very calm, content, and fulfilled. I think I gave a little fist pump even.

Post Race
It was truly amazing how it hit me so abruptly as my legs stopped moving. Running 3hrs and then...STOP. My legs nearly buckled. I ducked for my medal and just took a moment in that position to collect myself. I considered going to the medical tent. In fact, if it weren't raining, I probably would have laid down.

I felt like an alien in the finisher's area. Half finishers were swarming everywhere, fresh off running half the distance in the same time as me. I shuffled by tables, grabbing chocolate milk, water, pretzels, bananas, and gatorade. I gratefully welcomed a wrap of space blanket and asked the volunteer to open my water bottle for me. My cold hands had become claws. Picking up my "finisher's jacket," a real nice piece of swag, I again required assistance to get it zipped.

Our friend Caroline came in at 3:17 and my wife at 3:26. While waiting, I consumed liquids and shivered uncontrollably among the crowds with umbrellas and ponchos. A concerned volunteer asked me if I was OK, and spectators opened my gatorade for me. I watched the girls finish, and we all rendezvoused with our friends Mike and Devon. Mike swiftly took action, stripping our wet clothes and providing dry replacements. I kept imagining myself holed up in a snow cave in the mountains, spooning with a partner, trying to survive through an unplanned bivy.

Wrapped in aluminum-plastic skirts and shawls, we shuffled our way to the Metro Station and back home to rest. Our hosts provided a delicious post-race meal of homemade blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs. We all showered, lounged, and recounted our tales of glory from the morning race.

What now?
It was such a life-giving weekend! We enjoyed the company of friends, sharing in suffering and celebration. Having all four of us meet or exceed our goals was really special and allowed us to be smiley and cheery all day! We immediately started making plans for Boston.

Monday, our friend emailed us about how hard it was to return to work, back to normal life. Setting and working toward a big goal requires such singular focus. Last spring, I was inspired by this same friend and a professor to try to BQ. My wife and I both had to drop over 30mins off our PRs, and we hadn't run a marathon in 3.5 years. We worked really hard and made a lot of sacrifices. Sometimes it was very rewarding. Sometimes it was a chore. We kept at it and it kept us going through a dreary winter. We're in the best shape of our lives thanks to this goal.

I think we are all kind of at a loss as to what to do now that it's over. All the hard work over a year cashed in for a 3-3.5 hr experience. It's really pretty strange and somewhat anticlimactic. We want the high to go on forever, right? Post-race I'm stuck between "never running another marathon because it hurts so much" and "I bet I can go faster in Nashville in 6weeks." Visions of grandeur rise up like carbonation to replace the completed goal as it drifts into memory. I'm grateful for the ability and privilege to run and to climb and to be fit. It's incredibly rewarding and satisfying to push myself and see what I'm capable of. That is why I started this journey trying to BQ in the first place. It was all to answer the question: "What am I capable of?" For better or worse, that question is never fully answered, and the journey is never-ending.

This week is my spring break, which has afforded me time to recuperate physically and mentally. I'm climbing 5 days here at the Red River Gorge, and it feels great to get vertical again. I have climbing goals too, and look forward to really investing in those, but I cannot escape wondering what else I can do on my feet. I will likely give another hard effort at the Country Music Marathon in just 6 weeks. I'd like to lower my BQ time to increase my chance of being admitted to Boston. Who knows? Maybe I can go even faster ;) This time I plan on running more consistent paces and holding back for the first half. Hopefully, I will have some plans for next April in the northeast!

Another Pair: Kinvara 5 Review

The old cliche states one cannot fully know another without walking a mile in his shoes. It turns out, one cannot fully trust a shoe review or hype without trying it for oneself. Case in point: my experience with the Saucony Kinvara.

The Kinvaras seem to be a wildly successful shoe for Saucony and a trendsetter for minimalist(ish) shoes. Glowing reviews abound on the intrawebs. Being a researcher, I dug and dug and was fully convinced that the Kinvaras would be perfect for me. I even tried some on a few months ago at a local shop but chose the Brooks PureFlows instead. Even then I planned to buy the Kinvaras if I did not fall in love with the PureFlows.

That is exactly what happened. The PureFlows were not perfect, so after about 400 miles, I purchased some Kinvaras to try. I intentionally purchased from RunningWarehouse.com so I would have the option of returning the Kinvara if they did work out.

First Impression
The Kinvaras are light and streamlined. I like the feel of the shoe and the stride. However, I sounded like a cantering horse in the shoes for the first 100miles or so. Click clack, click clack. I could not figure out why. The soles are almost entirely foam and I am not a big heel striker. While the shoes were quick and light, the cushioning is vastly different from the PureFlows (read nonexistent). That is how it feels. Perhaps the foam is denser but there is not much plushness or noticed absorption of shock. I figured I could deal with the noise and firm strike for the marathon, and I started using the Kinvaras for my marathon pace and faster runs.

After Some Time
It did not take long for me to notice some increased soreness in my legs. When my PureFlows started rubbing on the inside of my big toe and midfoot, I switched almost entirely to the Kinvaras. Soon thereafter, I developed significant soreness in my left calf, ankle, and foot. One day I could barely walk in the morning. I chalked it up to making the shoe change and figured I needed some time for my legs to make the transition. In addition, I was in peak mileage (over 60mpw), so maybe the soreness was a byproduct of that. Regardless, I continued using the Kinvaras and holding onto hope.

Finally
The final straw happened this past week. Due to record-setting snows, I was forced to run on the treadmill 4 days. On the 3rd day, I developed a pea-size blister on the side of my big toe. I don't remember the last time I got a foot blister. The next day, I made 8.5 of a 16miler indoors before relenting. I had developed an identical blister on my left big toe. I could not identify what was causing the blisters, but I cannot risk that happening in the marathon.

Overall
I wanted to like the Kinvara and tried hard to overlook their flaws. Like a relationship, we were "slow dancing in a burning room." No matter how hard we tried or for how long, we just weren't meant for each other. The leg soreness, lack of cushioning, and blisters are evidence (albeit circumstantial) that the shoes are not working, and I cannot take that risk with the race.

What now? I have the same pair of PureFlows with almost 500miles on them. I've been surprisingly impressed with their durability (much better than the kinvaras). I know they work, so I am strongly considering just sticking with them through the next 3 wks (that's it!). Why spend $70 on a new pair to wear for a couple hundred miles if the old ones are working? I think I'd rather stick to them and save that money for something else (maybe some trail shoes)! Hopefully they last and don't irritate my feet too much (calluses are building).

I'm glad I used Running Warehouse and will be mailing the shoes back this afternoon.

My First Epic

Climbing chalk is sometimes referred to as powdered confidence, and many of us cling to it like a child's blankie before facing our own potential boogie men on cliffs everywhere. What about new gear, though? Don't you feel stronger and braver from slipping on a fresh pair of shoes? Doesn't the fresh snap of unblemished cams lead to thoughts of running it out (and paradoxically not using those same cams)? I know that is all true for me, but I learned it the hard way during one of my first multi-pitch trips.

The cliff was relatively short, not to mention slabby, and it was a beautiful sunny day in the Sawtooths of Idaho. Riding high from reuniting with my new girlfriend after a couple months apart, I was not alarmed by the late hour. We had a plan that we were going to keep! She had just graduated and was spending the summer and fall working at a guest ranch. I was a year behind and spending my summer in Leadville, CO, learning the ropes of being an Outward Bound instructor. I'd been honing my trad skills for the past year in Tennessee, had received further instruction and practice through OB, and was (in my mind) fully equipped with a new trad rack through my prodeal. After a brief demo of how to remove my new gear, we were ready to make our first multi-pitch ascent as a couple!

Our progress was initially delayed by a middle-aged, local couple bailing from the second pitch. Amateurs. Surely we would easily dispatch this backwoods 5.7 in the next couple hours, possibly with them even witnessing our prowess. Then we would celebrate with pan-cooked pita pizzas, creek-chilled wine, and starlit skies.

The first pitch followed a shallow runoff groove choked with dirt. Rather than grovel up that, I decided we would ascend the clean, adjacent slab. Given the easy nature and lack of gear, we would simul-free-solo. We tied in, and both set off up the 5.6/5.7 slab. Fortunately it was easy climbing but the slab arced upward as we climbed higher toward the tree ledge. About 85% through, my girlfriend got spooked. I talked her anxiety down and traversed to the tree ledge to offer a belay. Good thing we were tied in already. We would see that tree ledge again.

The second pitch followed a shallow corner up to a jumble of tat around a giant choked chockstone. Suddenly I found myself in the same spot as the previous party. From the belay cave I could not tell where to go for the 3rd pitch. Without a topo and with little multipitch experience, I swallowed my pride and we set to descend. Thus began one of most tense experiences of my climbing experiences.

A half-rope rappel from the belay cave could not take us the full pitch to the tree ledge, but I remembered there were two pitons about  four feet apart mid pitch. I rappelled first set a belay using the two old pins. For the next rappel, I sent my lady down first. The rope was thread through a screwlink on the bottom pin, while I backed up the rappel with my body and a runner to the higher pin. She recalls how stern and quiet I was during the experience. I imagine now that it was probably to hide my foolishness from her. Safely reaching the tree ledge, I don't think she realized the gamble I took rappelling from the single pin with no backup. I was grateful for the "near miss" of the situation.

It was nearly nightfall and cold by the time we made camp that night. Our celebration was dampened by fatigue, fright, and a lack of matches. We drank unchilled white wine and choked down our cold, lunchables-style pita pizzas before turning in.

My wife and I have gone on to successfully complete (and bail from) several multipitch lines since then. I've acquired more gear, and sense, and we always carry an extra lighter in our first aid kit.

When Running Isn't Fun

It's week 15 of 18. This is the last big week of training, peaking at 65miles before trending down to race day. That's the good news, because I'm tired, and I don't really want to run any more.

The training has really worn on me, but in surprising ways. My muscles have rarely ever been sore, even after the hardest workouts. Man have they been tight though! Over the past few weeks, my calves and achilles have gotten ever tighter, requiring diligent rolling and stretching. I woke up one morning this week and could barely walk due to foot pain. After rolling my sole with a racquetball all day at school, it slowly loosened up, but I skipped a workout because of it.

Overall, I've been able to deal with the aches and pains. Compression gear, rolling, stretching all really help tightness and soreness, but they don't make me feel any stronger. The longer I train, the more frail and unstable my legs feel. I step on a patch of grass and tweak an ankle! It has made me really miss trail running and regret running exclusively on pavement.

More than leg soreness, time management has been the major obstacle. On top of school, work, marriage, and surviving, running consistently is difficult! To put in 10+mi in the middle of the week is hard physically and logistically. Up to this weekend, I had 16 straight days of work, school, exams, or combinations of the three. The cumulative load of everything has hurt me most in quality of sleep and rest. I've been able to make most workouts but I've been generally exhausted, and I've noticed the effect on my quality of running. With soreness and stress, I've missed my weekly mileage for the last couple weeks (peak weeks).

Hopefully, the last few weeks of tapering will give me the rest I need to succeed in the BQ attempt. At this point, I'm having doubts, though. Have I run fast enough? Have I run far enough? This was going to be the benchmark week for me, especially with the last 16miler this weekend. Here we are on Monday, though, receiving about a foot of snow. That does not bode well for the week! Shoveling snow is roughly equivalent to running 8miles right?

Compression Gear

Runner by day...

Ladies know the sexy and supportive feeling of tights, leggings, hoes, and spanx. Even the men out there (at least those willing to admit it) know the feeling of strength and power associated with some under armor or football pants. There's a reason superheroes wear tights!

In my own effort to gain superhuman strength and speed, I purchased a couple compression garments for this marathon training season - the CW-X Stabilyx Tights and Smartwool Graduated Compression Socks.

Look how cool this guy looks! Don't you want to look cool too?

Far less sexy form of compression garment.

Background
I wore under armor back in high school much more for the sweat management than anything else (perhaps besides looking good). Now compression gear is making a real move into the mainstream with promises for better performance and recovery. I've known about CW-X and their muscle and joint supporting claims since my first foray into distance running back in 2008, but I was too poor and too self-conscious to buy any. Fast forward 6 years and I started really considering them. Why?

As much of my current running and body maintenance does, it comes back to Kelly Starrett of MobilityWod.com. In his book Ready to Run he illustrates the uses of compression gear in promoting blood flow, lymph flow, and therefore recovery. With his encouragement and reading some of the peer-reviewed research, I became convinced that compression could benefit me, so I bought some socks and tights.

It should be noted that the science and benefit of compression gear is not yet entirely settled. It seems evidence is strong for compression socks promoting recovery and blood flow, hence their use in bed-bound hospital patients to prevent blood clots and in those suffering from edema (e.g. the elderly). However, the results are mixed whether compression socks improve performance. I've not looked at research regarding compression tights, but if the lower leg compression is graduated, it should have a similar effect. I cannot say how scientifically sound CWX's muscle and joint supporting exoskelton (if you will) is. I can speak to my personal results though.

CW-X Review
There are a few standout features of the tights.
(1) Support: Compared to basic running tights (e.g. one layer of consistent stretchiness, CWX offers much more support. The comparison is like a regular car seat vs a racing bucket seat or soft handshake vs a firm handshake or (for the guys) boxer-briefs vs straight briefs. My basic Asics tights fit like tight pants but don't particularly support me. They feel sleek for sure but not like a shrink wrapped support web of my legs. That's what CW-X feels like, particularly around the knee joint. That support feels good - powerful, strong, tight.
(2) Material: My basic tights are one consistent layer of shiny slick stretchy material (lycra?). The CW-X tights have multiple layers of a softer, tougher feeling material. The support network is over the top and seems to provide extra tightness, reinforcement, and support. The result is a tighter, more substantial feel to the pant. That extra thickness and matte finish leave me less self-conscious about going outside in my skivvies.
(3) Warmth: Simple - being somewhat thicker, I comfortably wore these tights alone down to about 20 degrees F. The wind can cut through them, making wish I had some windbriefs. Being winter, I have not run in them in temps warmer than ~45F.

Smartwool Compression Socks
I have zero complaints about these socks. I wear them a few hours nearly every day post run and sometimes all day before or after a hard workout. I have washed them maybe twice now. They have held up well, don't smell, fit tightly, and are comfortable. I prefer wool and found these on major internet sale, which is what persuaded me to go with them rather than a big name compression brand.

I decided to buy socks rather than sleeves because I thought I would use them more regularly. The jury is still out on whether compressions benefits during performance, so I did not think I would run in them. Since I was not going to run in them, I was not worried about getting them dirty quickly or them working with my regular running socks or wearing out from running wear. This allowed me to buy only one pair to wear as much as possible and afford the ability to wear the socks with normal clothes just fine (mostly as dress socks and not having to put a sleeve over or on top of other socks). I saw no advantage of a sleeve.

Results
They look good and feel good BUT DO THEY WORK? That's a very difficult question to answer. I have not organized a self-trial comparing them in the same workout to another pair of tights. Even trying to do that would have too many other factors to be apples-to-apples. However, I do credit them with decreasing my soreness this season.

It has been rare that I have been sore the day after a run this season despite doing track work and tempo intervals for the first time and ramping up mileage relatively quickly. How is that? I'm not in better shape. I think it's because I am using these pieces of equipment (along with committing to mobility work). I wear my CW-X tights for nearly all my hard workouts: track, tempo, and some long runs (total of 2-3x/wk). I wear the socks after almost every run. Very often I'll come home sore and worn down, but after wearing the gear for a few hours and getting a night's sleep, I rarely ever have morning time soreness after a workout.

I cannot say that the gear has definitely improved my recovery or made me better able to handle my increased training. I believed it would; that's why I bought it. And I do believe it has, which is why I recommend both.

Come March 14th at DC, I hope it's a bit chilly so I can wear my Stabilyx Tights, and I will definitely being wearing my Smartwool Compression Socks on the plane before and after!