The Experiment

Liv, me, El, and Cole on the Airline Trail, White Mountains, heading to Madison Springs Hut in early August 2011.

Okay, I just need to break the ice of such a long absence from posting to my own blog. Life is full of good stuff. Though I try not to write too much about my personal/family life on this post, I do want you to know my elder daughter is a freshman in college and loving every moment of it. My other daughter has adjusted well to her older sister’s departure and is continuing the strong Keene presence on their high school playing fields.


The Ironman Eagleman in June saw my return for a personal record on that course. I was thrilled to have competed and absolutely bowled over that I improved in the rankings. My one-word adjective for my Eagleman experience 2011 is “luscious”. The water was so warm and nice, the bike was sunny, calm, and beautiful, and the run was a bearable temperature with a light breeze to cool us in every direction, or so it seemed.

The summer saw racing the Star on Wednesday nights, racing the log canoe on the weekends, and keeping with a light to moderate activity level of swimming, biking, and running. The families reached the White Mountains in August for some gorgeous hiking. I spent a week in Utah with my sister where I got to do some trail running (Yay!), swimming, hiking, summiting, and mountain biking.

Me outside Moab near Dead Horse State Park about to venture onto my first solo mountain bike experience.  I went downhill for 8 miles here and it took me over an hour.  Some spots I had to walk they were too scary for this flat lander.


Two weeks ago my friend, Pete, and I towed Seabiscuit, my Star, to New York for a Centennial Regatta for the Star class in Larchmont. We had our chance to shine; we even led two of the races, but victory was not to be ours.

The experiment: Two weeks ago I signed up for a half marathon in Chestertown. What was I thinking? I have not been running, and I certainly haven’t run anything close to 13 miles since Eagleman in June. So, as the time drew near, I succumbed to the notion that I would simply make this race an experiment; one where I would do what I could in the hopes that all my other contortions of late would give me the stamina to finish strong. I’m happy to say that I faired well.

However, I made two mistakes. The first was forgetting to roll on anti-chafe protection. I have the worse case of chafe my underarms have ever had because of a rough shirt I was wearing. The second mistake was not eating anything immediately before the race and not carrying any fuel with me. To counteract this mistake I drank Gatorade at every aid station, and that saw me through.

I felt good at the start and quickly fell into an 8:05 pace for the first 5 miles in the warm, windless misty morning. Not knowing whether I would bonk later, I cracked off on the speed, but kept a good 8:15 pace going. All was well until mile 10 when my knee started to act up…nothing too serious, it was just talking to me to slow down. I finished around 1:51 for the 13.1 and felt very pleased with my performance. I didn’t think there were as many as 40 people ahead of me, but there was. I finished 8th of 22 in my 10 year age group. Now, because I am no stranger to injury, I did take it easy yesterday and with my recovery today. I’m very thankful for what I can do.



Me with Mikaela after her 2nd place victory at this year's Chesapeak Man Skipjack Triathlon.  At the same time I was running the half, down south in Cambridge a friend was running her first triathlon, Chesapeake Man’s Skipjack, a 70.3+ Ironman distance. Mikaela swam with us for the first time over 4th of July weekend when six of us met at MRYC for a swim in the Miles River at daybreak. We were wowed by Mikaela’s fitness level and speed in the swim and the bike that followed. I believe it was that day that we convinced her she needed to sign up for a triathlon, so she did in a large way by being 2nd overall for the women in yesterday’s event. So cool!

This is the season for the trails and I look forward to the first fall run at Tuckahoe with friends.

Live, Love, and Serve

Red Pine Lake Trail and Lake, Wasatch Mountains, Utah, elevation 9620 feet.

It was a HOT August, Sunday afternoon and the thermometer on my bike was reading 99 degrees. Becky, Jon, and I rode earlier that morning on our bikes to the Belleview Ferry so that I could hitch a ride to Oxford and sail a log canoe race. We had a great race; winning by a good margin in the light air, but I was beat. The two water bottles on my cages were either warm or empty and I needed to ride the 16 miles home to Wittman. Upon entering Royal Oak a sign caught my eye, and then I saw the table with thermoses of water and lemonade sitting in front of the church. I was forever thankful for the cool libations.

The Royal Oak Community United Methodist Church was providing cyclists with free water and lemonade. They had a few business cards in the box, but that was all the literature there was…except the sign that said, “Live, Love, and Serve.” The four words struck me as simply perfect. Live the true meaning of those words and how could life go wrong?

I’m doing well! I’m not 100% recovered from my back, shoulder, or knee injuries, but I’m doing well and still improving. I’m able to do most anything I want, just not to the extent or intensity I once was,.... yet.

I just returned from Utah where I visited with my sister and brother-in-law and shared 5 days of adventure with them. Four of the five days were spent on trails. My sister’s house sits in a nice neighborhood of well groomed lawns with views of the Wasatch Mountains. Their development butts up to a dell with miles of mulched trails for the runner, cyclist, dog walker, or equestrian lover to enjoy. Within a 10 minute drive you can be in Little Cottonwood Canyon at one of many trail heads that lead to mountain lakes, 12,000 foot peaks, mountain meadows, and rocks for climbing. There are many miles of trails that lead to infinity, so it seems. Cyclists are everywhere on the roads and trails. Trail runners were on the mountain trails where we were hiking for the day. It was totally blissful heaven to be in that atmosphere.

I am pretty sure that multi-time winner of the Wasatch 100, Karl Meltzer, passed us on the trail Saturday afternoon. Earlier we crossed paths with Neil Kaersley, a friend of my sister, who is taking part again this year in the Wasatch 100 as a pacer for his brother-in-law, Mark Colby. (The race starts this Friday at 0500.) There was freakin electric on the trails. Neil and my brother-in-law, Jim, both said they see Apollo Ono, the Olympic speed skater, on the trails regularly. I was totally “amped” up there in the mountains. My mind has been spinning on how to figure out how to spend more time out there.

My sister, Judy, and I hiked Antelope Island, which is the largest island in the Great Salt Lake (GSL). Home to buffalo and antelope, we hiked the Frary trail. Judy sent me on to the peak after getting most of the way there, herself. Alone, I forged on to the false summit where I shortly thereafter got off trail and onto an animal trail by mistake. It looked simple enough to get to the summit; just follow the knife edge until I get there. However, after much risky climbing with Jim’s coveted Alaskan hiking stick in one hand and a backpack on my shoulders, a point came where I said to myself, “do not do anything stupid”. The realization that the limit had been reached came when I found myself perched on top of a knife edge with a 1000 foot drop down either side. My legs were straddling what looked like a steep roof peak. It was a beautiful view, but I was not able to go any further on the rocks without climbing ropes and nerve medication.

The knife edge leading to Frary Peak, elevation 6500 feet.

I carefully backtracked, but was unable to “un-climb” some of the areas I climbed up minutes before. Then I saw a hiker several hundred feel below. We screamed to each other, with me gaining the knowledge that I was “off-trail” and that she was “on-trail”. The executive decision was made for me to attempt to climb down to the trail and have another go at reaching the summit. Minutes later I found myself lodged in a chute with nothing below my feet for 40 feet, hanging by my arms (my chest and arm muscles screamed at me for the next 2 days). I was in a spot. Repeat mantra, “do not do anything stupid”.

I dropped Jim’s stick and watched it land 100 feet below me. Now, with more fingers in use, I climbed back out of the steep chute and found another way down. It took me a while to find Jim’s stick. In the process of all this, which included scrambling down rock scree, a microwave oven, sized rock dislodged because of my antics and crashed down the mountain. I could hear it smashing everything in its path as it rolled down the mountain for the next 2.5 minutes. It was so loud that I prayed my sister couldn’t hear it, for fear she would think it was me.

I eventually reached the summit and called Jim who was in his office. I told him I was “okay” and that I had Judy’s cell and I had reached Frary Peak (it had taken longer than anticipated). Then the voice in my head said, “dance naked on the summit”, so I did (the sole hiker on the trail was 2 miles back; I was alone). Crazy, I know, but maybe it was the altitude’s thin air at 6500 feet.

Later, that same day, Judy and I waded from the beach into the Great Salt Lake. I floated unbelieveably high, just like everyone ever told me. Instead of floating up and down like in a pool, I was able to have head, hands. feet, knees, and stomach out of the water while laying on my back. The GSL is much saltier than the ocean. It is all that remains of the ancient inland sea of Lake Bonneville.

Me floating in the Great Salt Lake

There is so much to tell. Being with Judy and Jim was awesome; adventure during the day, good meals and games at night, plenty of sleep, and a ton of laughs. It was a great break from my wonderful, yet busy, life in Maryland.

With Judy and Jim on the Red Pine Lake Trail, Little Cottonwood Canyon, Wasatch Mountains, Utah.

Monday morning Jim woke me early and said we’d hike to White Pine Lake at 10,000 feet plus. By 10:30 we were 5.5 miles up the trail at the lake looking at mountain goats on the nearby mountain meadow, which was straight up and down. There was ice in places and a vein of snow left over from winter. The trail was spectacular; full of vistas even an artist couldn’t render. Half way back down the trail we saw Neil again and we chatted. The trails were empty considering the number of cars in the parking lot. Shortly after we saw Neil we came upon a bull moose. We were 30 feet from him. He was really cool to watch and photo; a good sport, I’d say.

The moose on White Pine Lake Trail

By day 5 of my trip my legs had adapted well to the ups and downs of the trails and my lungs had adapted well to the altitude. Sunday, Jim lent me his mountain bike and I rode the dell until my heart was pounding out of my chest. It has been a long time since my heart rate was up that high. During adventures, I hiked in my trail shoes, but wore my new Sport Trek Vibram Fivefingers on the plane both ways, and all the time off the trails. They were too new to my feet to risk wearing them on the trail. Upon my return to Wittman, however, I ran 2.25 miles on Wednesday in them with success. I plan on running the Gunston 5K in fivefingers.

I could go on, but I won’t. Good to have some trail-tales this time. My new mantra is now, “Live, Love, and Serve” ~ Michael