Black Hills Trip Report: Day One
What to do with a 4 day weekend in February? Go to South Dakota, of course!
When things started coming together for a weekend getaway over Presidents Day weekend, I never imagined we would end up driving north. I wanted to go somewhere within a 4-6 hour drive so we wouldn’t spend all of our time on the road. New Mexico was looking to be the likely choice, but after checking forecasts for several days it looked like the weather would be a mixed bag. Fairly cold and somewhat unsettled. That wouldn’t have been a huge deal, but the weather up north was looking so much better that we decided to head that way.
I’ve only driven past the Black Hills before and have always wanted to go back and explore that beautiful slice of the country a bit more. With a Saturday forecast of sunshine and 50 degrees, the deal was done.
We boarded our dog Thursday night so we could get a nice early start on Friday morning, with the goal of getting to Wind Cave National Park in time for the final tour of the day. It turns out I botched the tour schedule on the website and was off by 30 minutes, but we arrived 45 minutes early so we were all good.
The place was empty, it being a Friday afternoon in February, and we had the awesome experience of being the only ones on the tour. The ranger was in no rush and took plenty of time with us to answer questions and tell us a bunch of cool stories and anecdotes. It was great!
First discovered opening to the cave.
The tour was only 1/4 mile, but at just about an hour long, it seemed just right. They have actually mapped 120 miles worth of tunnels and are still exploring. There are teams that head down to an advanced basecamp of sorts and spend 3 days at a time working out the new passages. Cool stuff.
The tour guide came to the part where they turn off all the lights and have you stand there in the pitch black darkness. As we were standing there talking, she told us to all be very quiet and we would experience something that the early cave explorers got to experience. The ranger was meaning the absolute silence, but after we had been quiet for what seemed like a long time with no sound at all in the darkness Jessica piped up in a quivery little voice and said – fear?? It cracked everybody up including the ranger. Jessica was so sincere, but it was too funny.
After the tour, we drove through Custer State Park at sunset on our way to Rapid City. We stopped and watched a huge herd of elk, 28 bulls total. They were taking turns sparring and put on a great show for us.
This Should Be Interesting…
A running post? Imagine that.
Two weeks to go until my first race of 2013. Might as well kick off the season with a 100 miler!
Things have been pretty quiet running-wise on the blog for the last few months. To sum up my activity since October:
Oct – Raced 50k, broke rib.
Nov/Dec/Jan – Limped through training, ate/drank a lot, got really fat.
Feb – Quit soda, eating a little better, still fat, running stronger.
Too little, too late??
My training leading up to last year’s Antelope Island Buffalo Run 100 miler looked like this:
10/2011 - 195 miles: Slickrock 100, Moab Trail Marathon 11/2011 - 234 miles: Woody's Pancake Run 12/2011 - 295 miles: Lots of training 01/2012 - 276 miles: Ponderous Posterior 50K 02/2012 - 259 miles: Psycho Wyco 50K 1260 total miles 60/wk avg
My training seemed really good last year. 60 miles a week seems to be my sweet spot, and to have that work out as the average for that entire period was very good.
This year:
10/2012 - 142 miles: Lake Perry 50K 11/2012 - 202 miles: Barely hanging on 12/2012 - 184 miles: Barely hanging on 01/2013 - 190 miles: Struggled through 25 miles at Ponderous Posterior 02/2013 - 237 miles: First decent month in a long time 958 total miles 45/wk avg
I have only run 6 times over 18 miles in this cycle vs. 14 last year. I basically crammed another month’s worth of running into last year’s training. Staring down the barrel of a 100 miler sitting on 45 miles a week isn’t exactly confidence inspiring. At least I have no lofty goals this time.
One thing I have been doing with some consistency is my Powerlines workout on the treadmill. I’ve done it 15 times in the past 2 months, and at 1 hour each that is some solid work. The cardio part is getting ridiculously easy for me, but my calves are always holding me back. I wouldn’t say they are getting better, but they are a little less bad lately.
So how did all that training translate to the race last year?
Not that well, really. I was in okay shape, but had a lot of issues in the race, ultimately finishing in 23:38 for 13th place.
The issues –
Coming off a 21:15 the previous October in Moab, I was convinced I could go near 20 hours at this race on an easier course. So of course I started way too fast for me, ran every climb like I was doing an interval, keeping up with (or ahead of) people that are better runners than me, and was dipping into the 6:00’s pace-wise on the downhills. Dumb.
I felt good for 20 miles.
Then I cratered hard.
The next 60 (!) miles were a blur of dehydration, fluid retention, mangled feet, and non-existent legs or energy. To make matters worse, I had not gotten any sleep the night before the race. As in none. Zero. Instead, I laid in my tent listening to the hurricane force winds flapping the rain fly like a machine gun. My back was pissed off in a major way from unloading water jugs the day before. I was a mess.
I finally turned things around a little for the final 15-20 miles and still got in under 24, which I was pretty happy with at the time.
This year?
Who knows… I am undertrained, overweight, and struggling with my chronically injured calves. On the other hand, I am cautiously optimistic and determined to run a whole lot smarter. Relax, no pressure.
My weight has not budged since November and it looks like I will be going into this year’s race 8-10 pounds heavier than last year. That doesn’t sound toooo bad (maybe), but it feels more like 15-20. Really.
I am eating better and have cut out the gallons of crap soda I was drinking. Despite all the running, it just takes forever for this 43 year old body to get the signal and turn things around.
168 last year:
Even that was still 7 over what I consider my ideal 161.
I guess it sounds like I’m pretty hung up on that. I sort of am, but not going to change anything else until after the race. I’m trying to think of this race as a stepping stone to the rest of the year. If I run smart and recover well, I should respond and be good-to-go for the summer. Time to find out!
Using a Camera to Find a Camera
I set out for my Saturday long run a little before 7 AM thinking I would get about 20 miles for the day. Since I was planning on going up Waterton Canyon, I brought the big camera along thinking there might be some bighorn photo opportunities. I got home 3.5 hours later after only covering 10 miles and never making it up the canyon…
I wanted a little extra mileage, so I decided to do an out-and-back through Chatfield before heading up the canyon. As I got to my turnaround spot near the corrals, I heard a burst of coyote howls in the distance. I veered off the trail and headed cross-country to where the sound had come from.
Once I spotted the coyote, I quickly shed my pack and started assembling my DSLR (I carry the body and lens separated because it rides better that way). I got a few shots, then tracked it and another one from a distance as they moved south through the park. This went on for 30-45 minutes and I covered about a half mile in the process. I was having a great time observing and taking pictures, thoughts of my run were far removed from my mind.
Once they got far enough away that photos were no longer possible, I packed up the camera and got ready to switch back into run mode. That was when I realized that my compact camera (Canon Elph) was missing from the pack pocket where I keep it. The pocket is on the shoulder strap and is great for easy access, but doesn’t hold the camera very securely.
I stared back at the vast expanse of ground I had covered and thought; crap.
Since I had been so focused on the coyotes, I hadn’t paid very good attention to the meandering path I had taken to get where I now was. I cursed under my breath as I started back the way I had came, staring at the ground looking wishfully for the needle in the haystack. The camera isn’t anything all that special and could be replaced fairly easily, but there were photos on it that I hadn’t offloaded and I was just generally ticked off at myself for losing it.
As the initial wave of anger passed, some more rational thinking started to filter into my head. I realized there had to be about a 90%+ chance that it had fallen out when I first shed my pack to get my big camera out. But where in the world was that?!?
I walked back to the area where I was pretty sure it had to be and spent a good 30-40 minutes walking back and forth, looking for a dull black object the size of a deck of cards laying somewhere in the weeds. I decided that if I ever found it, I was going to tie a 3 foot length of pink flagging to it…
Frustrated that it didn’t just magically appear at my feet, I finally had the thought to start looking through the pictures I had taken to see if there were any clues. Some of the later ones helped me rule certain areas out and be more confident in my direction, but there weren’t any earth-shattering discoveries. I stared at the first photo I had taken and tried to match the background with what I was seeing before me.
I zoomed in and around on the display, hoping to find some distinct characteristic I could latch on to. It was mostly a patchwork of bare branches with little to differentiate it from all the other patchworks of bare branches in the distance.
I could sort of make out the arc of a larger limb in the background, and that became my target. I searched until I found what I thought was the right tree, then a stroke of genius came out of somewhere as I had the thought to start taking new photos from my current location to see if that helped me dial in the correct spot. It took about a dozen tries, with lots of flipping back and forth between shots on the camera display, but I finally ended up with what looked like a really good match. Then I moved forward and backward, keeping the composition as close as I could to the original photo and got the distance just about right.
I dropped my pack, and even set a waypoint on my GPS running watch for future use if I ended up having to come back later. I started walking away from my pack in the pattern of an expanding spiral, finding the camera nestled in a clump of grass less than a minute later – about 12 feet from where I had taken the final photo from.
This shot was taken from where I found the camera, the starting point of my spiral was just beyond my shadow.
I was happy with that outcome!
Cold and drained from the search, and short on time, I slowly made my way back home.
The Scene Begins 