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.
Photo by Ashton BittonI'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.
Photo by Mike Bitton
This is the Lacamas Lake Heritage Trail. It's about a 5-minute drive from my house.
Saturday, March 18, 2006This 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!
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.
