Bitton Training Blog Obsolete! Introducing team Rookie Rampage!

For the readers who have followed my training blog in the past, I give thanks and humbly redirect you to the team blog of Rookie Rampage. Just click on the headline above to see what we've been up to! I am the captain of this all-newbie adventure racing team based in Portland, Ore.

Downhill Mountainbiking at Mt. Hood Ski Bowl

Sure, it felt like cheating, but I loved riding the chairlift to the top of Mt. Hood Ski Bowl several times today and bombing down the trails with my friends Scott Markham and Cristina Fillis. Hard-core mountain bikers would say I needed to earn those thousands of feet of elevation gain, but I think the $24 price of the permit and the lift ticket was money well spent.

The weather was cool and damp, which was perfect in my opinion. I even had a new piece of kit to try out today -- the Ether wind shirt by GoLite. At first I didn't think the ultralightweight anorak-style jacket could do a thing to keep me warm during the 40-degree day we were about to enjoy. Looking across the tiny valley of Government Camp, Ore., I saw snow at timberline on Mt. Hood! As a real shell backup, I stuffed my GoLite Xirtam softshell into the backpack so I wouldn't freeze if the new Ether failed me. To my pleasant surprise, the Ether wind shirt kept me as warm as I wanted to be, whether I was motionless on the breezy chairlift, or bouncing down rocky trails at high speed. Big props to Demetri "Coup" Coupounas, head of GoLite, for figuring out just how light you can go and still have a useful garment.

Riverboarding on My 15th Wedding Anniversary

Photo by Iceman Riverboarder
Jana and Mike Bitton enjoy what little calm water they encountered while riverboarding on the Upper Clackamas River.

Was it a date? Was it adventure race training? Was it both? Jana and I went riverboarding today, which also happens to be our 15th wedding anniversary. With Josh "Ice Man" Lamka of Face Level Riverboarding (www.facelevel.com) as our tutor, we took a short run on the Upper Clackamas River near Portland, Ore. If you know the river, we put in at Fish Creek, and took out below Carter Falls. Ice ran me through this stretch of river my first time on a riverboard, and I agree with him when he says it's a beginner's run with a thrilling ending. Jana disagreed, and just before the second set of rapids, stood up in the river and decided she was done. She hiked back to the car in her borrowed wetsuit, PFD, helmet and booties, carrying her fins in hands covered with funky webbed gloves. "I got a lot of weird stares from people driving by," Jana said when we met back up at the Jeep. While Jana was hiking, I was riverboarding for the second time in my life. I was far more confident this time around. Along for the adventure were my brother David and his wife Tomie, visiting from Colorado Springs, Colo. They had a blast!

Two Days of Paddling at Trillium Lake, Ore.

Photo by Jana Bitton
Mike Bitton recently spent a couple of days practicing his kayak mooves on Trillium Lake.

Over the weekend my family camped at Trillium Lake, which sits at the south end of Mt. Hood near Portland, Ore. I put my strip-built wooden kayak on the roof of the Jeep, then stopped by Next Adventure (Portland's Alternative Sporting Goods Store) to borrow a second kayak from Bryan Knudsen, co-owner of the shop. We got to the campsite, set up, and went straight to the lake.

My brother, David Bitton, and his wife, Tomie, are visiting from Colorado Springs. Dave was eager to get in the boats. We paddled around a bit, then I taught him how to climb back into the boat if you fall out in deep water. He got the hang of it real quick.

The next day, we shared the boats with members of my wife Jana's family. They all had a great time. By late afternoon, most of the family went back to camp, so Dave, Tomie and I hung out at the lake. Trillium Lake is so gorgeous, you should do a Google image search to see what I'm talking about. I'll definately be back!

Six-Mile Paddle at Lacamas Lake

Photo by Jana Bitton
Mike Bitton and Jud Clark relax at the beach in Lincoln City, Ore., after spending a week together working on Mike's kayak that Jud built last year.

Last week my friend Jud Clark came to visit from San Jose. He wanted to help me put foot pegs into the wooden kayak he built last year, and gave to me on a long-term loan. We got the foot pegs in, and even came up with some great deck rigging.

We took my boat, and a second strip-built kayak Jud made, to my favorite local training haunt, Lacamas Lake. Where else can you do all three core adventure racing disciplines (mt. bike, run, paddle) so close to my home? Nowhere else.

We launched and I promptly dumped my boat, filling the cockpit with water. Note to self, buy a bilge pump! Jud loaned me his and within minutes, I was ready to try again. No probelms the second time around.

We paddled the length of the lake (about three miles), then continued up Lacamas Creek for a few hundred more yards. We took a little break to stretch our legs, then paddled back to the place we put in. We were out for two or three hours, so I'm definately counting the trip as training!

The boat is much easier to steer with foot pegs in place. The wind came up quite a bit on the way back to the launch, and with the pegs to brace myself on, I felt very much in control. Thanks, Jud!

Three Mile Run at Lacamas Lake

Today I ran the same route that I walked earlier this week along the Lacamas Heritage Trail. Once there, I turned around and walked for half-a-mile, and finished by running the final mile back to my Jeep. I'm sure this sounds trivial to a lot of people, but run/walking three miles today was a huge accomplishment for me! Several times on the run back, I wanted to stop and walk during that final mile. But I kept at it, and when I crossed the final marker, I felt so great!

One of the things I like about trail running is that it makes me feel like I belong among all those other runners out there on the trail. They only catch a glimpse of me jogging along, they don't know I'm a beginner. For all they know, I may be training for a marathon! I imagine some of the runners I see are beginners, too. Those that are still a little round in the middle like me are probably beginners. The lean and the beautiful ones who pass me like I am indeed walking are probably not beginners. Whether I can become that lean, I do not know. But I do know this: The more I run, the more I feel like a runner. That will get me where I'm headed, which is to a fitter, happier me.

Three Mile Hike at Lacamas Lake

Today I decided it's been too long since I've done any training. To ease back into the routine, I went for a hike at my favorite neighborhood trail along Lacamas Lake. I walked for 30 minutes, which got me just beyond the 1.5 mile trail marker. Then I turned around and walked back. I decided not to do any running, just in case my knees decided to revolt. During my hour-long hike, I saw several fish in the lake, a cotton tail rabbit on the trail, and a deer in the woods about 20 feet off the trail. It was so refreshing to be outside and moving again. The forest is thick along the trail, and ferns cover the ground. I'm so lucky to have this trail so close to home!

Lacamas Lake Memorial Day 5K and 10 Mile

Photo by Jana Bitton (my hottie wife)
Mike Bitton felt so powerful after completing the Lacamas Lake Memorial Day 5K, he struck a Hulk Hogan pose!

I ran my second-ever 5K on Memorial Day in Camas, Wash., one town east of my home in Vancouver, Wash. My wife and 3-year-old daughter came out to cheer me on. In training for the run, I usually would alternate running and walking, and could do about three miles in an hour that way. On race day, though, I was so amped up by seeing other people doing what I was trying to do, that I just ran the whole thing. In the back of my mind, I was hoping to finish in under 42 minutes, which is the time I had on my first 5K, the Nike Run Hit Wonder last year in Portland, Ore. About seven minutes into the race, I found myself having passed all the walkers, and was on pace with a woman who I stuck with for the rest of the race. Her name is Sherri and she's in her mid-50s. Her 20-something daughter had talked her into running some sections of the upcoming Hood to Coast Relay (from Mt. Hood to the Pacific Ocean), so Sherri was out "training." On the final push back to the finish, we had a long hill to climb. Sherri started to walk it, and was actually a little faster than my running (shuffling) pace. We started to coax each other up the hill: "It will flatten out soon," I told her between breaths, not actually knowing where the top of the hill was. "Good job running up the hill instead of walking it," she told me. I suddenly felt energized. How pleasant to have a companion during the toughest part of the run! We finally got to the top, and were elated. Reacing the finish line required about a quarter lap on a the Camas High School track. Sherri's 20-something daughter ran the last bit with her, and my 3-year-old daughter ran the last bit with me. I found fulfilment as a runner in three ways today. First, I beat my old time on the 5K by about two minutes! Second, I encouraged (and was encouraged by) an immediate friend who I may never see again. And third, my family was there to celebrate my second-ever footrace as an adult-onset athlete. What a glorious day.

U.S. National Rogaine Championships

Photo by Cristina Fillis (with help from self-timer)
Scott Markham, Cristina Fillis and Mike Bitton posed for a team photo during the Big Muddy Rogaine 3 orienteering competition near Antelope, Ore.

In a continuing effort to become a more proficient navigator, I competed in the Big Muddy Ranch Rogaine 3 in Central Oregon over the weekend. Though it sounds like a convention for the prematurely bald, a "rogaine" is in fact an orienteering (map and compass) competition.

I stuck with the husband-and-wife duo that took me on my first orienteering event a while back, Scott Markham and Cristina Fillis of Portland, Ore. They volunteer at all the Wicked Adventure Racing sprint races in the Portland area. Our team name for the Big Muddy was Lost and Never Found. We competed in the 8-hour, co-ed category. Other categories included "12 in 24," where teams could spend no more than 12 total hours on the course during the 24-hour race period. The third and final category was a full 24-hours on the course.

Scott and Cris are very mellow people and easy to get along with. They like to have fun, so the time we spent on the hunt for our chosen control points flew by. Our goals were to navigate as efficiently as possible from control point to control point, and to make sure we did not push ourselves so hard that we were no longer having fun. We each had our own map and compass, and we all navigated together as a team.

In a rogaine event, there are many control points spread out over an area so large, it's supposed to be impossible for any team to get to all of them beford the competition ends. Our team hit all six of the control points we wanted to find. I tended to think we were closer to the control points than we usually were, so I always thought, "This is it! Look! This has to be it!" Every time I was premature. So that's one thing I learned about myself as a navigator. I am an optomist. I need to be teamed up with a realist, or even better, two of them, like Scott and Cris. On more than one occasion, Cris set us boys straight as to where we were really supposed to be looking for our control points. Her patient manner and absolutely practical approach to navigation saved us hours of hunting in areas that were not quite the areas we thought we were in.

Before and after the competition, I enjoyed talking to several adventure racers in attendance. Three members of Seattle-based team DART-nuun were there, including Glenn Rogers and Aaron Rinn, who raced together in the 24-hour category; and Matt Hart, who raced in the 8-hour category with Krissy, a rising star on the U.S. ultra-marathon circuit. Ultras are races of more than 26 miles. I also saw members of the Mergeo.com, Missing Link and Mountains Plus (MPGear.com) at the event. It's fun to catch up with so many friends. I'll see most of them next week at the TRIOBA sprint adventure race in Ellensburg, Wash.

I haven't seen the results of the Big Muddy yet, but when I do, I will update this post to let everyone know the outcome of our efforts. The experience was a big confidence builder for all of us, and a lengthy enough amount of time to let us know we work well together. I will compete with these two any time they ask, because I respect them immensely and they took wonderful care of me.

Mazamas Dine in Style at Angels Rest

Friday, April 28, 2006

There's a legendary mountaineering club here in Portland called the Mazamas. They lead hikes all over the region, and, with the help of my co-worker Carol, I joined a Mazamas outing this evening in the Columbia River Gorge. We hiked to Angels Crest, arriving at sunset with the Columbia River rolling out toward Portland and a deep-red sky. All the men were to bring dinner, all the women, dessert. We had an astonishing display of food, considering we carried every ounce of it up 1,400 feet of elevation gain during more than 2 miles of trail. It was my first Mazamas hike, but Carol has been out with the club nearly every weekend since September 2005. I'm sure I'll join her with the Mazamas on more hikes in the future. There's no better way to get out on the trails with knowledgable guides than going with them.

Rogaine Training Hike -- It's Not About the Hair

Photo by Scott Drumm, Columbia River Orienteering Club
Knee-deep in wildflowers, Mike Bitton (far right) tries to keep up with members of the Columbia River Oreinteering Club during an April 22, 2006, training hike.

Apparently, waaaay before the miracle hair-growth medicine, Rogaine (capital "r"), there was rogaine (lower-case "r"), an orienteering sport that required competitors to travel long distances on foot between orienteering control points with nothing but a map and compass to guide their way. That's the kind of rogaine I'm talking about. It's not about the hair.

Today I went with several members of the Columbia River Orienteering Club (whose unfortunate acronym and more common name is CROC) to do a "training hike" for the upcoming Big Muddy Rogaine 3 orienteering competition May 13 in Central Oregon.

We hiked up, across and down Seven Mile Hill, the wide, barren mountain that sits behind the town of The Dalles, Ore. My altimeter said we started our hike at 600 feet above sea level. When we topped out on Seven Mile Hill, to a breathtaking view of the Columbia River Gorge and Mt. Adams, my altimeter said 1,800 feet above sea level. A 1,200 foot jaunt up a mountain is a little more serious a "training hike" than I'm used to! We ate lunch at the top, then made our way back to the car. Subtracting the 30 minutes we took for lunch, the hike took three hours.

When my friend Scott Markham told me about the elevation gain and loss involved in this training hike, it was as if my knees piped up and said, "Hey! Buddy! Did you hear that? Twelve-hundred feet up, and 1,200 feet down. Ibuprofin! Trekking poles! Ibuprofin! Trekking poles!" As you can see in the photo above, I took my trekking poles along for the hike. I also administered Ibuprofin as necessary. Smart set of knees I got! I wasn't even sore after the long drive back to Portland!

Trail Running Comes Naturally During 'Play in the Woods Expo'

Photo by Mike Bitton (with help from the self-timer)
Scott Markahm, Cristina Fillis and Mike Bitton pose for a picture at one of many control points they visited on Saturday, April 22, 2006, during a day of competitive orienteering near Portland, Ore.

Saturday, April 22, 2006


I learned two important lessons while competing last week in my first adventure race. First, I'm gonna have to learn to run. If I don't, I'll never make the cutoff times in the sprint races I intend to enter. Second, I'm gonna have to learn to navigate. If I don't, all that running will be for naught. Today, I practiced both running and navigating, as my friends Scott Markham and Kristina Fillis of Portland introduced me to the world of competitive orienteering.

At the "Play in the Woods Expo" near Portland, Ore., we completed two orienteering courses. The first was a beginner course, the second was an advanced course. The control points were almost too easy to find on the beginner course (we took third place without even meaning to), so after we finished that, we went straight for the most advanced course they had. What a blast! The control points were nearly impossible to find, but we navigated well, and knew we were in the right places, so we ran around through the woods until we found what we were looking for. I had the time of my life! I think we ran a quarter of the time because we were having so much fun.

Scott is going on a training hike tomorrow with the Columbia River Orienteering Club, which put on the Play in the Woods Expo. The hike will help prepare those involved for an orienteering event in May called the Big Muddy Ranch Rogaine 3, which this year also happens to be the U.S. Rogainine Championships. I think I'll go on the hike tomorrow and see what kind of punishment these folks put themselves through on a training hike.

Sailors Pushes, Pulls Bitton to Finish Adventure Race

Photo by Colin Ness
About an hour before the start of the BEAST adventure race, Duncan Sailors (right) and I looked excited to take on the challenge.

On Wednesday, April 12, 2005, I completed my first adventure race! It was the BEAST race in Seattle. It was hard and fun and scary and fast and slow and frustrating and I had the time of my life! My teammate was Duncan Sailors of North Bend, Wash. We completed the course in just under four hours. The race began shortly after 7 p.m., and ended at about 11 p.m., so most of it was in the dark. Our team name, a salute to my current phycial appearance, was Round Man Running.

After a quick orienteering course to thin out the crowd, members of roughly 30 participating teams began a mountain bike section that had everyone cris-crossing what seemed like dozens of narrow hiking trails around one of King County's remotest parks. Duncan and I purposely started the bike leg after all the other teams had left. Because it was my first race, we decided to start slow and taper.

I took a fall almost immediately on an exposed root that crossed the trail. Just as I recognized that the root might be large enough to pose a problem, my wheels were out from under me, and my right shoulder was slamming into a clump of ferns. "Are you OK?" Duncan asked. I was. It was a question I'd hear many more times during the next four hours as I crashed into an endless series of boulders, trees and mud puddles. Duncan was right to make me wear trail running shoes instead of my bike shoes that lock in to my pedals. I would have been miserable at best, and seriously injured at worst.

Many teams struggled to find checkpoint two of the bike leg. As we rolled in to a trail intersection, we saw dozens of bikes lining the trail, and dozens of racers zig-zagging around on foot in the woods around the intersection looking for the marker. Duncan ignored the mayhem and kept his head in the map. After a minute or two, he quietly said, "Mike, get on your bike and ride that way, nice and slow." I did, and I don't think anyone saw us leave. About 20 yards later, out of sight of the confusion at the intersection, we found checkpoint two. Duncan guessed we'd just passed about 10 teams, teaching me that navigation can trump speed in adventure racing.

With my limited mountain biking skills, about a fifth of the super-technical bike section was unridable for me. I'd hop off my bike to slog through 10 yards of 10-inch-deep muddy water, then hop back on. Then there'd be a huge pine tree down across the trail, so I'd hop off to lift my bike over that. I'd hop back on, and soon come to a hair-pin turn I could not negotiate, so off I'd jump again before crashing.

When the trails opened up a bit, I could build up speed. It's a bizarre sensation to zip past trees with nothing but a spot of light 30 feet in front of you to show the way ahead. I alternated between terror and bliss during those "fast" times. Terror because I knew a crash would cause serious pain, but bliss because I felt like a 7-year-old kid on the run from bad guys, and I sensed I was pulling away. At one point, the headlamp Duncan let me use was shorting out, so the light flickered on and off like a strobe light, and often didn't come back on for five or 10 seconds. "I'm doing disco mountain biking!" I shouted to Duncan.

After the bike section came the trek. Usually, this would just entail careful navigation and thoughtful selection of the quickest routes between checkpoints. The BEAST organizers added their predictable twist by requiring teams to answer mind-bending questions at some of the stops. Depending on which multiple-choice answer you chose, you were sent to a different checkpoint. Supposedly, if you ansered the questions correctly, your course would be shorter. The first question was a stumper that teams were wasting 10 and 15 minutes to solve. Duncan and I decided any guess was better than wasting time feeling stupid, so we chose an answer and left. We hit several more checkpoints, only a few of which had similarly rediculous questions. The others simply sent us to other checkpoints and finally, to the finish.

Duncan towed me up a final hill, and made me run the last three or four minutes to the finish. "We're going in hot!" he told me. "You're crossing this finish line as Round Man Running!" And we did. The cheers from the other racers and the race organizers were deafening. We did it! Camera flashes lit up the dark parking lot. Everybody hugged me. Duncan said he was proud of me. It was an awesome moment in my adventure racing life. We beat the 11 p.m. cutoff by just a few minutes. Many other teams had missed checkpoints, so "Did Not Finish " (DNF). We did finish, hitting all our checkpoints in the allotted time. We had a lot to be proud of, and, thanks to Duncan, I had a solid first race to put on my new adventure racing resume.

BEAST Director Roger Michel sent me an e-mail the day after the race to congradulate me. Here is some of what he said:

"Congrats again. This was by far the hardest BEAST race. The added length, tough navigation and technical trails all made it a '2-hour-plus' winning time compared to the usual hour-and-a-half. Looks like you bagged your first one, hopefully not your last!"

I want to wish Duncan and his team, MPGear.com, lots of luck as they continue to train for the Primal Quest expedition race to be held in June and July. As I prepare for my role as writer, photographer and media escort on the Primal Quest media team, I will always look back on my first adventure race to add some personal insight into what the athletes go through in just four hours of their five- to 10-day Primal Quest race.

Bitton Earns Horse Certification

Photo by Jana Bitton (my gorgeous wife)
This week I visited Sister-in-Law Becky's Stables in Sandy, Utah, to earn my horse certification for the BEAST race next week in Seattle. What? No horseback riding in the BEAST? Shucks. Guess I'll just have to use this cert at Primal Quest!

I know, I know, there's no horseback riding section in the BEAST adventure race coming up next week in Seattle. But I had the chance to ride this week, so I took it.

Training kinda goes down the tubes when you're on vacation. Sure, I could be militant about it and go run for an hour, but instead, I took an hour-long walk with my 3-year-old daughter and my gorgeous wife. Yes, I could borrow a bike from my grandpa and ride frontage roads along Interstate 15 for an hour. Instead, I spent an hour with my family taking turns riding a gentle white horse named Sebastian (see above) at my sister-in-law's house. It's spring break. We're road trippin'. And I ain't trippin' 'bout trainin' right now.

Duncan, my teammate for the April 12 BEAST, read with great interest my recent training blog entry about falling off my bike. "Let me save you from yourself right now," Duncan wrote in an e-mail. "You aren't going to wear your bike shoes at the BEAST. You're going to wear your Montrails."

Apparently the trails at the race location are "technical single-track," which to the uninitiated means trails that are narrow, muddy, boulder-strewn, root-crossed nightmares. So my odds of "clipping out" of my pedals in time to avoid EVERY potential disaster are zero.

Thanks, Duncan, for saving me from myself!

Round Man Running

Photo by Jana Bitton (my gorgeous wife)
I had my wife shoot this photo of me today after I finished my hour-long run/walk training in the gravel pit near my house. I asked her to get down low, which resulted in a vivid view of all my chins. This will definately be my "before" photo after I become fit through adventure racing!

I spent an hour building up my running base today. There's a perfect spot for improvised trail running a few minutes walk from my house. My neighborhood sits on the edge of the Columbia Tech Center. The entire developement used to be an operating gravel mine. It is massive. I think it's at least a mile long, and about a half-mile wide. As only about a tenth of the gravely depths are now developed, there's still lots of room for running on uneven terrain, with unlimited obstacles -- boulders mostly -- to dodge.

There's no way I can run for an hour yet, so I decided to take the advice of Runner's World Magazine columnist John Bingham and mix walking breaks in with my attempts at running. Mr. Bingham is a wise man. He wrote a book for beginning runners called "No Need For Speed," and if you have not read it, you should. It's filled with practical advice about how to transform yourself from a couch potato to a runner ready to complete a 5K race (about 3 miles) in 12 weeks.

I left my house with the intention of walking for five minutes, then running at low intensity for five minutes, then taking some deep hits of water off my CamelBack hydration system while I walked for five more minutes. I was a little surprised how easy it was to start running again after the walking breaks. In fact, I thought of shortening the walking breaks, or making my running sections longer. But Bingham warns against intensity increases on the fly, as do most of my adventure racing friends. So I kept doing my five running, five walking, and in an hour, I was jogging up my driveway with a gigantic smile on my face.

I did it! I ran (and walked) for an hour! I had never done that before. The sense of accomplishment is tough to describe. I took on a challenge that I wasn't sure I could meet, and I met it. What's more, I am confident I can do it again. Today's success was just one of many "baby steps" that will lead me to the adventure racing life I long to live.

Failure to Pop Shoes out of Pedals Leaves Nasty Mark

Photo by Ashton Bitton
I've crashed before, but this is the most photogenic one yet. My left handlebar smacked into my sternum, then gouged its way down my belly. Why am I still smiling?

Sunday, March 19, 2005

I continue to train for the BEAST adventure race in Seattle, and today put in some time - probably too much time - on my mountain bike.

I left my house this afternoon with the intention of riding around Lacamas Lake for one hour. I got back an hour and 45 minutes later. That's a lot of time in the saddle for me. I think I have bruises, but there's no easy way to find out.

My bike has special "cleated" shoes that lock into the pedals. Experienced riders don't seem to have many problems with this type of system. In fact, it makes them more efficient, because they can get power not only when they push their feet down, but also when they pull their feet up. For me, though, this special combination of shoes and pedals has caused several crashes.

I should know better. I know I should pop my shoes out of the pedals when I approach a tricky part in a trail, or hit a traffic jam of slow hikers who won't yield, or come up to a traffic light I'm going to have to wait for. I just get so engrossed in the joy of zipping through my surroundings that by the time I realize I must get my shoe out of the pedal NOW, I twist my foot to pop out (doesn't work!), I twist it again (why isn't it working?!!), and again (oh, no!!), and SMASH! Some part of my body has a new boo boo. Today it was my chest.

I honestly took about 30 seconds to untangle myself from my bike, get the shoes out of the pedals, and stand up. How humiliating! I looked around to see who'd witnessed my stupidity. Nobody. What luck! I dusted myself off, took a long hit from my bottled water, and got back on the bike.

The ride down to the lake was gorgeous. I wish I knew all the names of the pine trees and the other trees and the ferns and the bushes, but I'll have to fake it and say the trail has a lake on one side and dense forest on the other, and it is amazing. I can not believe I live so close to a setting so serene.

I got to the end of the lake, rested for a few minutes, then got back on my bike. It had taken an hour to get there. I figured I could get back faster, and so used some of my 28 gears on the return trip. I got back to the trailhead in 30 minutes!

This training for the BEAST is giving me an excuse to do the things I want to do anyway. It adds a sense of purpose and even urgency. I like training because I feel the suffering is for a specific reason. Just going out and doing it for fun isn't nearly as fun.

2.5-Mile Trail Run Painless if You Walk Most of it

Photo by Mike Bitton
This is the Lacamas Lake Heritage Trail. It's about a 5-minute drive from my house.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

This afternoon I went to Lacamas Lake near my home to go for a trail run. There's a trail along the south side of Lacamas Lake called the Heritage Trail. It's about three miles long, so about six the way most runners do it for an "out-and-back."

For a few months now, I've been using the eliptical trainer at the gym for 40 minutes at a time. I figured this trail run would be pretty much the same, but kept my expectations realistic. I would try to run for five or ten minutes, then take a walking break. I ended up running for about 15 minutes, at which time I arrived a the 1.25 mile marker. I turned around and walked for a while, then ran for a minute and walked for a minute, ran for a minute, walked for a minute, until I got back to my car. The whole thing took about 40 minutes.

I'm a lot more comfortable running on a trail than I am on a track, or even the sidewalk or a paved road. Running on pavement feels like punishment. Running on a trail feels like freedom.

There's a 5K race at Lacamas Lake coming up on Memorial Day. I will enter, and with all the training I intend to put in, I will likely beat my previous personal record in the 5K of about 42 minutes. Really, I don't care so much about records or winning. I just like the way I feel about an hour after I finish a run. I feel like I can do anything!

If You Can't Keep Up With Them, Train, Then Join Them

Photo by David Bitton (my brother)
Here's a shot of me hunting adventure racers with the big glass on the singletrack section of the Wicked Ocean adventure race in the summer of 2005.

I've had a blast for the past two years documenting the exploits of adventure sports athletes in words and pictures. I've traveled to Mexico and Colorado, and explored pockets of Oregon and Washington that most life-long residents of the Pacific Northwest haven't even heard of.

I love chasing endurance athletes around. Trouble is, I can't chase them very far. They start running, I start running. They keep running, I try to keep running. They fade from view, I stop, panting, wishing I could have kept up long enough to at least shoot a few more pictures.

That ends now.

I'm training for an adventure race of my own, that I will not be photographing or writing about for a magazine or website. This time, it's Mike Bitton, adult-onset athlete, not Mike Bitton, adventure sports journalist, at the starting line.

The race is called the BEAST (www.beastrace.com), and it's in Seattle, Wash. Lucky for me, my friend Duncan Sailors of North Bend, Wash., is willing to be my teammate for my first-ever adventure race. The race director says fast teams will be done in about two hours. My goal is to finish in under four hours, and to not make Duncan tow me the entire time.

For this BEAST race, the disciplines include trail running, orienteering and mountain biking. I figure if I can train up to being able to run/walk for two hours, I should be OK for the trekking and orienteering parts. I also figure if I can train up to being able to pedal without stopping for two hours, I will not be an unbearable burden to dear Duncan.

And so, with great trepidation on my part, my training as a real-life adventure racer begins.