The Big Summer Buildup I Crave

How and why I'm planning for ultras and advocating for public lands

Welcome new subscribers. I had an uptick in subscriptions thanks to a mention yesterday in coach Mario Fraioli’s excellent newsletter, The Morning Shakeout. If you’d like to sample this newsletter in addition to reading the installment below, this list of top posts is a good starting point.

Next Wednesday afternoon, I’ll host the monthly online meetup for paid subscribers. This is a casual, supportive group chat during which we talk about running, wellness, and life in general, and sometimes we host special guests. If you’d like an invitation to the monthly Zoom, as well as occasional bonus posts, please consider upgrading your subscription to the supporter level.

Me last Thursday in Boulder, totally focused on my son Kyle.

I was a mess all last weekend.

Exacerbated by too little sleep for three nights straight, I struggled mightily with a transition sparked by our youngest child’s college graduation and my re-entry into daily life following two special trips (to Taos, then Boulder). My 55th birthday and Mother’s Day bookended the university’s ceremony, and those two special days triggered dormant anxieties about being old, washed up, and unimportant in my now-adult kids’ lives.

Objectively I knew my emotional state Saturday morning was exaggerated, but I felt powerless to act or feel normal. My son’s Instagram post made me weepy, and then my husband’s innocent split-second decision to pull into a gas station not of my choosing—the Circle K instead of the Maverick—made me yell at him, “What the hell? Don’t you know that every Circle K has shitty bathrooms?”

Everything made me sad. Everything my husband did was wrong. Every Sirius station played a bad song or broadcast bad news. And the weather was out to get us.

Adrift and confused about how to get out of my funk and what to do once I got out of it, I toyed with spoofing last week’s newsletter (which had the somewhat pompous title, “The Week I Found Focus and Flow”) by writing a post for today called, “The Week I Lost Focus and Flow and Decided to Give Up Entirely.”

Instead, I made this sappy Instagram post (click through to see all the pics)—weeping ridiculously again when I heard the “rock me mama” line in the song “Wagon Wheel”—and went on a run.

sarahrunning

A post shared by @sarahrunning

There’s an upside and maybe even a point to this story: the advice I shared last week actually kicked in and helped. Sticking to certain habits—like going offline and keeping phone out of reach to do some journaling and reading, then approaching my run with low expectations and no pressure—calmed my mind and primed me for a freeing, escapist, ultimately good-feeling run.

I drove to the trailhead Sunday without much of a plan. I might let myself walk a lot or even sit for a bit. I only committed to start and to stay out there for about three hours and see what happens. More fresh snow than expected covered the single track trails, so I decided to stick to a boring but runnable gravel/dirt rural road next to the trail and made peace with that unexpected route change. I could have felt disappointed, but my mantra from the 100K three weeks ago, “It’s all good,” helped me find a groove on that out-and-back road. I ran steadily for 16ish miles.

I spent part of the run reflecting on being an empty-nester with both my kids out of college and supporting themselves, and thinking about the concept of “commencement.” Graduation ceremonies, typically called Commencement, are meant to launch young adults into their future. Why can’t I commence a new phase and be more forward-looking, too?

I’d like to be more like my son, who radiated optimism and excitement about the summer ahead (when he’ll return to a northern Colorado ranch to work as a wrangler) and general positivity about the future, which is such a refreshing thing to witness in today’s general doom and gloom.

With commencement in mind, I thought about the ultras on calendar that build up to my “A” goal in September, the 170-mile Grand to Grand Ultra weeklong stage race. My mind switched its focus to the logistics and visualizations of each race. Instead of thinking “I need to train and get ready,” which sounds like a monumental task, I asked myself, “How can I get in the very best shape and be totally prepared at the start line?” which sounds more like a challenge that motivates me.

Like most runners, I ponder why I keep running and what’s the point of it all. I could write a book grappling with that question. (Oh wait, I am! That’s the central inquiry in my memoir in progress.) I devote much more time to running than is necessary to be healthy. On days like last Sunday, when I run my way out of a funk and end it full of purpose, the point is the structure, process, goals, contemplation, discovery, and ultimately the good feeling that the practice of training and racing gives. Some people experience those satisfying things through their careers, but my paid work never affected me that positively (although writing, when it’s going well, does). Raising my kids did, but now that’s in the past, so I need running more than ever.

I’ll share here an abbreviated outline of my summer training plan. In the comments below, feel free to share what you’re training for over summer and what’s your “A” goal.

The Summer Buildup

Eighteen weeks remain until I travel to Kanab, Utah, for the Grand to Grand Ultra.

Mid-May – June

• Following recovery from the Leona Divide 100K and two weeks of travel that interrupted training, I need to regain consistency and volume (aim for 50ish miles or 8ish hours per week)

• Stretch long runs to 5ish hours

• Increase strength training 3x/week

• Increase vert as high-country trails open

• Do a mini taper of just a week, then Bears Ears 50M on June 22 as a peak long training run; reduce volume to recover the following week

July

• Start pack training and increase pack weight from 10 – 15lbs (the Grand to Grand Ultra is self-supported, so participants carry all their food, sleeping gear, clothing, and required safety items; my pack will weigh a little over 20lbs at the start)

• Log more slow high-country outings around Hardrock; pace and crew Yitka at Hardrock

• Fit in more longish runs on weekdays (3 hours +) on top of weekend long run

• Taper and travel week of July 22; do Never Summer 100K July 27; reduce volume to recover the following week

Ass-Kicking August

• Peak volume: normalize 20-milers midweek and stretch long runs to 6+ hours; get weekly volume to 70+

• Do late-day hikes on tired legs with full pack weight in addition to morning run

• Do heat-acclimating runs in Montrose/Fruita/high desert (find some sand to practice on too)

• Practice with the fully loaded pack

• Finalize food and gear choices

• Feel fully trained and prepared by the end of August, then maintain

September

• Stay healthy, don’t get sick!

• Reduce volume, increase rest, maintain heat adaptation with hot shorter runs in Montrose

• Week of Sept. 16: final taper with travel to Kanab; start Sept. 22

This outline doesn’t show the full picture of everything going on in my life (which includes actual work plus volunteering to lead a local nonprofit, exercising our two horses and caring for all our animals, a trip to a wedding back East, and hiking/camping dates with my husband). The outline does, however, make me prioritize the week-to-week ultra prep.

I’ve run the Grand to Grand Ultra three times (2012, ’14, ’19) and its one-time spinoff, the Mauna to Mauna in Hawaii, in 2017. Realistically, given an undeniable age-related slowdown, I don’t expect to top my last performance when I won it in 2019, but I have other goals that go deeper than a cumulative time.

A final note about the Grand to Grand Ultra: With the recent Cocodona 250 on many people’s minds, I get asked why I’m going back to this stage race rather than getting on the mega-ultra bandwagon with a single-stage race that’s 200+ miles. It’s mainly because I love the event’s location and its self-supported stage race format, which is modeled after Morocco’s Marathon des Sables.

The special challenge of racing every day’s stage, which is a marathon-to-50M distance, then resting at camp, means we’re running as much as we can and pushing for a strong time on each of the six stages. By contrast, at a continuous 200, most participants devolve into a sleep-deprived slog after Day 2 with very little running. I also love the Grand to Grand’s communal camp scene, where all participants—from the elites to the back-of-the-packers—stop, gather, and collectively recover from the day’s stage and engage in conversation, getting to know one another. No one is on their phones because the event is entirely unplugged and off the grid. And lastly, the challenge of going self-supported appeals to me. The event has no aid stations, only checkpoints with water. We have to be extremely strategic and minimalist about the food and gear we carry for the week.

A shot from Stage 1 of 2019 showing my 20ish-pound pack, which held everything I needed for the week. (The event provides only water and communal tents.) Photo courtesy Grand to Grand Ultra

The Grand to Grand introduced a supported category last year also, which is an option for those who want their food and gear transported from camp to camp. Most still do the self-supported category, however. Registration is open until June 30 so it’s not too late to sign up! For more info on how to train and meet the event’s challenges, here’s a podcast interview I did about it:

Public lands spotlight

As trail runners, I believe we have an obligation to care about the wilderness areas we traverse and to help steward them. I’ve been a public lands advocate for the past decade because I care about trails and the nature around them. I also believe that preserving wild open land is critical for biodiversity, and that managing the extraction of minerals, oil, and gas from them needs to be part of the climate solution.

The Grand to Grand Ultra traverses and skirts extremely remote public land managed by the Bureau of Land Management and the U.S. Forest Service. Some of it, like the Vermillion Cliffs and Grand Staircase-Escalante national monuments and the Paria Canyon wilderness area, receive special protection for their endangered wildlife and their special cultural and archeological artifacts. Most of it, however, is unprotected and viewed as a national resource to use, not necessarily to conserve.

Doing the inaugural Grand to Grand in 2012 sparked my interest in this vast open space and what we can do to keep it wild and visit it with minimal impact. I began supporting the Conservation Lands Foundation, the only nonprofit dedicated to protecting and expanding America’s National Conservation Lands, which are specially protected public lands managed by the BLM. I want to spread awareness about the network of relatively new National Conservation Lands, and why they matter, because the public generally doesn’t know much about them; we tend to focus more on our national and state parks.

Three weeks ago, I found myself at the center of a regional controversy that has polarized people in neighboring communities while spreading mistrust and misinformation. It has to do with a proposal to designate nearly 400,000 acres of land in a river canyon, about an hour west of where I live, as a national monument. In a high school gymnasium packed with angry opponents of the proposal, who don’t want the federal government “locking up” or “stealing” their ability to use and mine the region as they see fit, I spoke in favor of the monument designation to protect the area. It wasn’t easy, but I couldn’t in good conscience sit there and not express a contrary point of view. My reasons are summarized below in a draft letter to the editor that I plan to submit to a couple of local newspapers in the next day or so.

If you’re interested in this controversy—which reflects the broader political and cultural issues dividing our country—I encourage you to read this well-written HuffPost article about it. And if you want to see some photos and read some descriptions of this special scenic area, I hope you’ll read my Hanging Flume 50K race report, which takes place in the area that would receive special environmental protection. (This is an awesome grassroots 50K, taking place this year on October 5, check out its website and consider registering!)

The Story Behind the Hanging Flume 50K

Mostly, though, I’m sharing this here to encourage you all to get informed about public lands and wildlife protection in your area. The link above to the Conservation Lands Foundation is a good place to start (on Instagram @conservationlands and @monumentsforusa) and if you’re in Colorado, the Colorado Wildlands Project is a great resource (on Instagram @co_wildlands). I also recommend subscribing to Jonathan P. Thompson’s Substack

The Land Desk

for coverage of these issues.

Thanks for reading this far! Here’s my draft letter to the editor that I’m sharing here first.

Why I Support a Dolores Canyon National Monument

In late April, I attended a public gathering in Naturita organized by Senator Hickenlooper to hear feedback on the proposal to protect the Dolores River Canyon by designating it a national monument. I was one of only two speakers, out of more than 50, to express support for it. I applaud Sen. Hickenlooper and former state Sen. Don Coram for setting a tone of civility and bipartisan dialogue. Their respectful example, however, didn’t stop the crowd from loudly booing and cutting off my remarks before I finished. I’m writing to share what I hoped to express that day.

I have deep respect for the hard work and resiliency of miners and ranchers, and for the history of the region. My grandfather David S. Lavender was a miner and cattle rancher, and in the 1920s and ’30s, he lived in the West End and operated a ranch on all the acreage that became Uravan. Through him, I learned about the boom and bust cycles in the West End. I also have gotten to know the Dolores canyon area by running many miles on its trails and reporting on the West End’s efforts to rebound after the shutdown of the Tri-State coal-fired power plant. I love the landscape and feel for its communities. So why do I support a national monument in the area instead of leaving it as is?

In my view, it’s smart long-term planning to transition to a cleaner, more sustainable broad-based economy, and to protect the wildlife corridors and biodiversity that’s essential for the future of the natural world, rather than carving up the landscape with pipelines, powerlines, and roads. A national monument would not affect existing valid mining claims but would, importantly, protect the environmentally sensitive public lands from future mining claims and oil and gas leases.

A national monument (designated by the executive branch) is perhaps the best and only way to protect the beautiful northern portion of the Dolores River canyon in Mesa and Montrose counties. The watershed’s southern portion would be protected as a National Conservation Area if congressional legislation, which I also support, ever becomes law.

Monument designation would create a much-needed framework for discussion and collaborative planning with public input, as stakeholders create a resource management plan to determine the boundaries and accommodate uses including recreation, grazing, and hunting.

At the forum, some opponents called the monument proposal a “federal land grab” and used “stop the steal” language, which ignores that the fed government already owns and manages the land; that’s why it’s public. All citizens—not just local residents—should be able to have a say and stake in the public lands’ future.

As for locals’ concerns about crowds, it’s important to note that national monuments managed by the Bureau of Land Management are vastly different from national parks and do not typically result in anything resembling a “tourist trap.” They’re kept as natural as possible, with minimal infrastructure. The designation may bring a small and steady amount of visitors, not crowds, for outdoor recreation, which could benefit local businesses from Gateway to Naturita.

Designating a national monument around the Dolores River would protect the waterway and canyon country for future generations while bringing additional resources to the area to care for it. I think that’s a win-win.