Site Running

I once had a discussion with a friend about the word "sight seeing".  I was flabbergasted to find out it was not "site seeing" which is the only form of the word that actually makes sense. You are seeing sites. You are not seeing vision. (Yes, I know "sight" also means something worth seeing but "site' just makes so much more sense.)  Nevertheless, the best way I have found to ever actually see a locale is on your feet. Preferably at around an 8 minute per mile pace.

In Chapter 12 of 138,336 Feet of Pure Bliss entitled "This Country is Beautiful" I talk about seeing the country on foot.  To clarify, I also talk about seeing the whole world on foot.  Korea, Italy, the Caribbean.  The more I see, the more I know I have seen so little.

This past weekend I spent sometime in British Columbia. I made my first foray into the province on New Year's Eve last year because my best friend wanted to see some snow (she is from Texas) and I knew Portland wasn't going to get any.

So we hopped a plane to Spokane and picked a random city in Canada to go and play for a day. Cranbrook was our destination and using my uncanny ability to find awesome places to run, I found the Cranbrook Community Forest.  Soft powdery snow and with a temp getting no lower than 18 degrees, it was ideal. (Not to sound old fogey-esque but where in the heck did real winters go? I mean, 18 degrees for Canada in December?! That was sometimes April in Titusville when I grew up! But I digress.)

This time I wanted to take advantage of a rare weekend off and with the weather still nice headed up to points along the coast. Vancouver, Whistler, Victoria, Campbell River and the towns in between were just a few places we hit in Canada. (By the by, holy crap are ferry rides expensive. The two we had to take were about 1/3 of the total expenses for the whole 5 day trip. No wonder people stay put. As an aside, I saw there is a marathon on one of the islands in the Strait of Georgia that requires three ferry rides to get to. Yeah, I'll just by a seaplane, thanks.  Must be cheaper.)

But while the 1400 miles of driving allowed us to see some fantastic sites (thank you very much) it was when we got out of the car and went for little six milers that the true awesomeness showed itself. Granted most of it was planned as exploring for too long just wasn't in the time table, but the nuances of a town or a city are just not seen when you are in a car. Walking takes too darn long.  Being on a bike means you are always about to become fenderfood (trademarked, by the way.)  Running is the perfect blend of safety and speed that allows us to see so much of the world.

It is running that allowed me to check out the Burnaby Lake in suburban Vancouver and learn more about how it is in deed of some serious dredging.

My shoes took me to pay homage to Terry Fox statues in both his childhood home and also where he would have ended his cross-Canada journey if osteosarcoma hadn't taken his life far too soon.

I found an odd bit of art along the Victoria SeaWalk which was hidden from virtually every other view that I would have had if I had not run right next to it.

Once we left BC and headed back to Portland the long way along the Washington Coast, it was oddities like running on a beach in the westernmost zipcode in the contiguous United States that helped break up what would have otherwise been long drives.

After leaving Forks, WA (home of the Twilight saga - I am Team Dane in case you cared to know) and heading to the famous Hole In the Wall we found we could get there and back far faster than the hikers (who looked like they were going on a 7 day tour and not an hour long hike) leaving us more time to go see other things as well.

All in all, obviously a car will get you to places faster and walking will allow you to take everything in more deeply. But nothing quite melds the best of both worlds like a nice jog through the world.

So in just about a month, when I take on my 150 mile Dane To Davenport, it will be a fantastic journey of seeing the Heartland.  From Dane, Wisconsin to Davenport, IA, I will get 150 miles of roads, trails, tracks and paths to take mental pictures of to last me a lifetime. Looking forward to every step!

Karhu Fluid3 Fulcrum Review

Having a partnership with a shoe company has many perks.  One of them is getting advance "copies" of shoes to go on test runs. This can be bad, as I learned previously with another shoe company, as you basically become a guinea pig for prototypes. However, with Karhu, who has been in the shoe business for decades, I love being able to pull out a pair of shoes few have worn and go see what they can do with no worries. That said, as with everything I try, talk about or review, you know it doesn't matter if the product was given to me for free, you will still get my honest opinion. Which is why you will probably be happy to hear that I think the Fluid3 Fulcrum is pretty fantastic.


(And if you stick around to the end of this review, I have a 15% off code for you to use! Exciting!)


I recently read a review of the Karhu Flow 3 Trainer that was quite thorough. I love the Trainer and have worn them in most of my recent races. I just hadn't written a review like about them yet, and after reading his, I don't have to do so - it nails all the things I feel.  But above and beyond talking about the shoe, the reviewer mentioned things that, for the most part, I don't care about. More accurately, they are things I do not think about at first but when pointed out, I think "Yeah, that is pretty cool." Things like the packaging and the slogans and the history of the company which come in pamphlets in the box. Well, since I read that review I started to start noticing those things.


So fresh out of the box, the new Karhu Fluid3 is just snazzy.  Gone are the days when just adding a bright color will make a shoe stand out. As such, somehow, even though the color is a bit eye-popping, it is not  too much of the "Hey, look at my new shoes!"

Sliding them on, they just felt nice.  Then again, new shoes always feel like Christmas. However, wit hthe Fluid3, there was something about the way the tongue of the shoe was structured that it just felt nice and snug. I coudn't notice anything off the top from its appearance that would clue me into to the fit.  I just knew I couldn't wait to give them a test run (or five.)

My intention before writing this review was to try them on some different terrain and over numerous distances and speeds. As such, I did a double digit mile run with them on all pavement, another double digit mile run on a mixture of pavement, soft trail and grass, a track workout and finally a nice 6 mile tempo run.  I figured that was more than enough variance to form an opinion.

I noticed right away that the shoes felt just a touch heavier than the Flow3 I had been running in.  Turns out, the Flow3 is 8.6 ounces (for a size 10.5) and the Fluid3 is 8.9 ounces (for a size 11).  A whopping .3 ounces and my feet could tell the difference. Also, as there were limited models I actually wore a size 11 for the Fluid3 and didn't notice any difference. I might actually have sized up a little bit after 145 marathons.  My uterus didn't fall out but I lengthened my feet. Go figure.

The Fluid3 performed admirably on all fronts. While not sold as a trail shoe and the trails I were running on were extremely light on the "trail" side of things, I didn't notice any marked difference in my performance. Same to say with the track workout.  Normally, I would go with a lighter show like the Karhu Flow Light which Runner's World just reviewed in its latest issue. Nevertheless, they were just as quick to respond to the rubberized track in a set of 400s as they were on all the other runs.  In fact, the first run I did in them was after I finished my Spudman triathlon, drove 8 hours home and ran the next morning.  The shoes felt so nautral and right that I kept forgetting that I was supposed to be paying attention to them in order to review them.

Honestly, if "never once thought about my feet" is the worst thing that gets said about a pair of shoes, then you have got yourself a winner. And that would be about the worst I could say about these shoes. They hugged my foot, yet gave it ample room.  The upper felt light and airy and when you sweat like I do, you want as much coolant as possible.  The fulcrum that Karhu has made famous has been toned down from previous models but still gives you as a runner the being-propelled feeling. I remember reading "I simply can't run slow in Karhus" and I would have to agree.

The Fluid3 are not necessarily for those who need stability as they are fitted more for neutral runners but I wouldn't be surprised if those who over-pronate a touch wouldn't find them to give them the support they need. Lots of negative in that sentence so let me clarify: these might just be for all kinds of runners. (For much more about the tech specs for the Fluid3 make sure to either click on the picture above or scoot on over to Karhu's website and read more.)

All told, it is a really solid shoe. I have already put close to 100 miles on it and plan on getting many more out of it by the time I am done.

In addition, as promised, if you use the code "SEEDANERUN" on Karhu's website, Karhu will automatically knock off 15% whopping percent from your purchase. You can also use that code at Karhu's parent site, Craft, which makes awesome running apparel as well.

This is the review that just keeps on giving! Thank me later when you are crushing new PRs in your Fluid3.

Redneck Aquathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 8; 13th Edition 
1 mile skied, 1250 meters swam, 48 miles biked and 165.9 miles run in 2013 races
Race: Redneck Aquathon
Place: Tygh Valley, OR
Miles from home: 90 miles
Weather: 50-60s; bright sunshine

I now know how to pronounce a whole slew of places in Oregon which would not evident at first glance.  That is one of the wonderful things about travel.

This weekend, while still not boarding a plane for what seems like a wonderful eternity, I got to experience the much drier, much higher side of Oregon (elevation - I am sure marijuana-wise it is about the same), just a few short hours of driving away.

This was going to be a small race but I wasn’t sure how small.  The aquathon was a newly added event to two other triathlons which already existed. One, the traditional sprint triathlon and the other, a very interesting two-looper.  Basically, in this “Pumice Man” tri you swam, biked, ran, then swam, biked, ran again.  Very interesting. I would definitely give this some thought for the future.

But my race was the aquathon.  Given my tough 50k the week prior, I was more than pleased to be partaking in what would be the shortest of the events for the day. A 750 meter swim was followed by a 5k and I could call it a day.

With a 9:30 a.m. start time and no bike to have to worry about getting properly racked, this would be about as close to a running event in terms of simplicity as one could get. I picked up my number and saw I was given bib number 2.  I then noticed there were only 4 competitors. To me, this meant one of two things: they were all ringers or they were all just jumping into the race like I was.  I ended up being somewhere in the middle in my thinking.

Because there were so few competitors I am going to give you their stories.  First was Max Mann.  (If there is a cooler name out there, I don’t know what it is.)  Max was a 14-year-old fish. He darn near looked me directly in the eye which means he is probably going to be about seven feet talk when he stops growing. His grandfather was one of the official photographers for the race and also provided all the hand-carved medals for participants. His grandmother was there to hand out the packets and do sundry other details. To say that I found this beyond cool would be an understatement.  Involvement by a family in and of itself is quite neat.  But to have it trickle up through generations is even more special.

Before the event started I had the chance to talk with Max for a bit and he seemed like such a wonderful kid. I also learned that he would be swimming the swim leg in nothing but a speedo. Apparently they had purchased him a wetsuit but his slender frame made it too baggy. In hindsight, the water was cold but I think I could have gone with just a swimsuit as well.  After the initial shock, that is. Max would end up swimming an excellent leg, throwing in different strokes (I swear) in the middle of the reservoir. I don’t think he was showing off; rather just getting a hard workout in.

Next was Eric Helser.  Eric introduced himself prior to the race.  It was at least his third year doing this race and he had won both versions of the triathlon in previous years.  I figured he would be a tough one to compete with no matter how much he downplayed his swimming ability. Eric told me a great deal about the campgrounds and the areas and I really got excited about the idea of ding the Pumice Man potentially someday. I had a feeling he had some quick wheels on the run and hoped I could get a minute or so on him during the swim to make for the fact that I had zero oomph in my legs.

Finally there was Marie Young.  The only female competitor in the race, Marie was a total trooper.  I didn’t fully catch her story but I did hear she had a lot of biking equipment stolen so more or less decided last minute to just do this aquathon. She seemed to have zero apprehension telling us she would be pulling up the rear of the race to which I had zero problem telling her that if she finished she would be the top female.
That’s what this race was about: showing up.  I have long said that you can never apologize for who comes to race.  You can only compete against those who are there. I think this thought really buoyed Marie a bit.

Fuego Y Agua 25k Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 8; 3rd Edition 
33.1 miles run in 2013 races
Race: Fuego Y Agua 25k
Place: Isla la Ometepe, Nicaragua
Miles from home: 4084 miles
Weather: 80s; humid

It is hard not to talk about this race without mentioning the planned run across Panama three days later.  I say "planned" as it was unfortunately and indefinitely postponed.  More on that at a later date, but suffice it to say that thinking I would be running 50 plus miles in the shadeless 95 degree 100% humidity of a Panamanian highway definitely colored my actions during the Fuego Y Agua 25k ("FYA".)

Simply getting to the FYA 25k ended up being a bit of an adventure.  After rather uneventful flights from Portland to Atlanta and again to Managua, Nicaragua (north of the volcanic island which would house the litany of races being put on that weekend) the trekking begin.  Nicaragua has, for the lack of a better phrase, absolutely no street signs. This can be a problem.  Fortunately, my great friend and fellow runner (and crew member for the Panama run) Shannon, spoke Spanish.  This was the saving grace on many occasions.

Nevertheless, the driving we did on the evening we arrived to find our treasure trove of a hotel with an armed guard which were ubiquitous in this country (seriously, the McDonald's had one) was nothing compared to the three hour tour we would take the next day.


Leaving ourselves "plenty" of time to make the 100k drive from Managua to the ferry taking us to the island of Ometepe, I preceded to waste two hours of that driving more or less in the completely wrong direction. Upon finding out of this snafu, we assumed part of the trip was sunk. We had to reserve that ferry spot for our car months in advance and who knows how many ferries went across each day and how reliable that schedule was.  But with nothing else to do we pressed on.  Arriving 90 minutes after we were supposed to leave we found out two things:

1. There were other ferries leaving that day. (yay!)
2. We couldn't get our car on any them. (boo!)

Upon further questioning, we did learn we could park our car at the ferry station and do a hop on.  Because, as any fan of Arrested Development knows - you're going to have hop-ons. So we eschewed the car and prayed we would be able to get to our hotel, the packet pickup, the start of the race, etc. with no rental car.

On the ride over we spoke to some other runners and found out that the ferry we had originally supposed to be on had been delayed with no real explanation and the one we were on was actually the one we would have been pushed to.  So we should have actually been able to get our car on it. This should have been a harbinger of how these banana republic countries tend to work but we were just happy to be on the boat.

As the ferry crawled along at the speed of smell, we realized too late we were baking ourselves in the rather relentless sun.  Fortunately many portions of our skin were covered and the worst of the burning was limited. Checking into our hotel was a breeze as it was literally (and I do understand this term) the first building on your right hand side as you stepped off of the ferry. The proprietor was waiting for us as we were the last to check in and soon we were introduced to our gulag-esqe room. When the water worked it was only of the very cold variety.  The shower handle was new however, as the still-remaining price tag revealed. Far from nice we were again just happy to have a room and semi-working internet.  That is far more than many people have so we just grinned and bore it.

We gained information that told us that the start and finish of the 25k was just a five-minute walk away as was the shuttle which would take us all to the pre-race dinner.   We spent the rest of the evening meeting new friends, reconnecting with old ones and trying to convince ourselves that it wasn't really as hot as we thought it would be. All in all, as I sweated away, I could not have been more happy I was "only" taking on the 25k.

The race directors for this race outdid themselves when coming up with challenges.  The 25k was made significantly more difficult than in previous years and we soon saw the course description, map and elevation profile of the new race. I assumed this was going to hurt a great deal and was vastly incorrect in how little I would assume it would hurt a great deal (if you follow that.)

After two long days of travel, getting to bed around 9 pm was a breeze. Riding the bus shuttles to and from the dinner allowed us an opportunity to catch sights around the island which we missed not having our car. We wondered if the locals grasped what we were about to do and if they did, whether they even cared. I have mentioned before how refreshing it can be to those of us a little wrapped up in our running to go somewhere that the people either do not know or do not care about what you are doing.  It helps keep everything in perspective.  "Oh, you are going to run 25k or do a survival run.  That's nice.  I have to go plow those rocky fields over there with these emaciated oxen in order to eat tonight.  Enjoy!"

I did not know how well I would do in the race the next day but I figured top ten was feasible. All I had to do was show up and do it.

The Race

Basically, the race could be broken up into three parts- the roughly six mile run to the volcano, the three miles up it and then the six miles back down and return to the finish. My intentions were to be comfortably in sight of the leaders when we got off of the "roads" to head to the jungle staircase of the volcanic mountain of Concepion. At that point, I would promptly die going up the mountain, resurrect myself and then try to catch as many as possible on the way down.  This way of running had served me well at the Jupiter Peak Steeplechase a few years ago and as this race was the closest I had ever come to racing like this, I decided to employ the same methodology.  That race, starting at 7,000 feet and going to 10,000 feet over roughly seven miles, would not be as steep as here at FYA but the distance and total elevation loss and gain were virtually identical.  I assumed the higher starting elevation would approximate the humidity and heat I would deal with on this day.  Or at least I hoped so. To be honest, I had no other choice.

When the gun fired us off from the start, I felt good.  I really did not think I would be all that hot. There was a decent cloud cover to start the race and a breeze here and there. Perhaps it would be relatively decent!

The race course itself was approximately 15 miles long. Eleven of those miles were either flat(ish) or downhill.  There were only two aid stations but they came right before the big climb and then right at the top.  I had an 8 ounce CamelBak bottle which I felt would be perfectly fine. I fell in behind a few runners as a few others shot off in the distance.  Young looking and with no gear whatsoever, I figured they were newbies who would die in about four miles as us "seasoned" vets would real them in.  Virtually no time during these first 5-6 miles did I feel like I was pushing too hard.  I was not surprised to be sweating profusely .54 of a mile in (I checked on my Timex RunTrainer) but I was also not worried.  I simply drank liberally from the bottle and jogged along.

Less than a mile of running in the town of Moyogalpa had us quickly on trails where we would now and later dodge herds of cattle, dangerously thin horses and a variety of other animals shuffling away clandestinely in the underbrush. We had heard talk of cougars and snakes but as the adages goes, I do not have to be faster than those creatures - only the other runners.