webmaster mike's blog

Thanks, A, for the fun and continued absurdities.

Many of us have dreams.

Some of us share them.

Very few of us act upon them.

Allie Ostrander, a high school freshman in Alaska, had the wherewithal to act upon her dream.

An incredible cross country runner, Allie had the idea of creating a summer cross country race series that would not only seek to engage the community, but also provide funding for a worthy cause.

Together with the Kenai Watershed Forum, Allie used her Caring for the Kenai project to use her summer race series to raise money to combat Reed Canary Grass, an invasive species that destroys salmon habitat.

Long before the races were to begin, Allie contacted me to help. She needed online registration for the races, and a way for people to easily sign up and pay. I set up the registration for all five races, which were to be run on consecutive Wednesdays at 6 pm. We spent some time (with her dad’s credit card) making sure everything worked as it should.

As the first race drew nearer, I thought my responsibilities would increase. I volunteered to help during the first race day.

I arrived ready to organize people, lend my expertise, and mollify those who would otherwise be lost without said expertise.

I wasn’t needed. Not even a little bit.

I arrived to see tents set up, tables full of volunteers checking racers in, music amping up the crowd, and a race course fully flagged and ready to go.

I asked Allie how I could help. She paused, trying to think of any place she hadn’t already accounted for.

“Could you make sure people take the first turn at Moose?”

I was happy to have a Very Important Task. I would be the only thing standing between people making the turn or plunging ahead and being hopelessly lost in the hinterlands. I went to the Moose trail turnoff, where I was dwarfed by a giant orange sign indicating the way. I was completely superfluous, but at least I was in a great spot to view the race. As over 60 runners stormed past, I made my way upstream, where I thought I could help by moving some signs for the second lap. As always, Allie was way ahead of me.

I missed (and was likely not missed at) the second race as I had to work late, but thought I would actually try and race the third installment.

As you know, I’ve been trying to become a better runner. From my triathlon training, I have good lung capacity and my heart is strong, but it turns out I’m not a very efficient runner. So, for the few weeks leading up to the races, I’d been going to the Tsalteshi Trails and attempting to strengthen my running muscles by running slowly for longer distances.

Race 3 would be my test. During the Tri the Kenai, I posted a very slow run time of 23 minutes, which saw me slip at least five places in the rankings during the run alone. I had a very specific goal of an under 22 minute 5k, even though the course would be different, based on Allie’s proclivity to make each race harder than the last. The first race, incidentally, was the exact same course used for the triathlon. Each additional race became increasingly difficult.

I felt pretty good during Race 3 – my first running race since getting near dead last in high school.

I finished 11^th overall with a time of 20:39. Over 100 people participated in that race. I had done far better than my expectations, but knew I wanted to do better still. I set a goal of an under 20 minute 5k.

For Race 4, I had been suffering from shin splints, so I joined a group of fun runners and even helped pace another friend of mine. She did really well, and that made me (and my shins) quite happy.

I had kept my recalibrated goals for the fifth and final Salmon Run Series race, but unfortunately, this was to be the most difficult race yet. Not only was it longer than 5k at over 3.25 miles, it was mostly on Tsalteshi’s most feared course – the Bear. I knew that pacing myself properly would be key. To that end, I chose a runner who had bested me by a decent margin during Race 3, and planned to attempt to keep up with him as long as I could.

The race underway and the faster runners streaking ahead, I kept just behind my target, and I fell into a comfortable pace. He was faster on the downhills, I was faster on the uphills, and we were generally the same speed on the flats. I had a bit of a lead on him up until the downhill on Bear, where he caught up. We were dead even at the flat spot before the huge uphill climb.

“Are you ready for this?” He asked.

“I’ll never reveal the Wu-Tang secret.” I responded.

Actually, I forget what I said, but I think I made noises of general agreement.

I knew this would be my chance to get a lead on him, so I attacked Bear with wild abandon. I do love hill repeats, and knew my strength was in the uphill sections. Back up on top, I had amassed about a 30 second lead, but we still had flats and downhill to go, so I knew I couldn’t rest easy.

Sure enough, I could hear him slowly reeling me in. He was right behind me with all but a slight uphill and long downhill to the finish – I had to make a move.

I began my kick (See? All that time watching track events during the Olympics comes in handy) on the uphill, hoping to surprise him with a sudden increase in speed. I reached the top and began sprinting inelegantly downhill toward the finish. I knew he was the better downhill runner, but I managed to hold him off and finished a mere 3 seconds ahead.

My time wasn’t great, 21:30, but not terrible considering a long course (my 5k time would have been around 20:30) and it being the Bear – Tsalteshi’s oft-feared climb.

More surprisingly, of nearly 80 people in the race, I placed 4^th overall. I was thrilled.

In addition, my shins felt better than they had previously, and despite some horrendous blistering on my foot, I managed a good race and my highest heart rate ever recorded – over 200.

So, my heart still thinks I’m a teenager.

And with that, it seems I’m dreaming…

The reality though, is that Allie’s project brought awareness and community involvement in a great way, for everyone. All thanks to Allie for making her dream a wonderful and inspirational reality.

I’m not exactly sure what I was thinking.

Down in San Diego, pondering the possibilities of a job as Webmaster for a school district up in Alaska, something was grievously wrong with my grasp on reality.

To wit, I imagined me getting up, going to work, coming home, reading or perhaps catching up on movies and television, particularly during the dark winter months.

I could learn to juggle, do crossword puzzles, cultivate Bonsai trees, learn to speak Jive. A myriad of possibilities flashed through my mind. An 8 to 5 job, no entanglements, scads of free time. What couldn’t I do?

Turns out what I couldn’t do is any and all of the above. Somehow my free time became learning to cross country ski. Then teaching P90X classes. Then training for swimming. Learning how to road bike. Running hill repeats. Doing triathlons. Hiking mountains. Adventure racing. Running races. Mountain bike trekking… Things I never imagined doing whilst in Southern California.

I’ve been with KPBSD for a year now. This, if any, seems like a good time to ponder anew.

Since my weekday schedule seems to more or less bereft of free time, I thought I could put relaxation on my To-Do List during the weekends.

As you might imagine, this, too, was a complete failure.

Weekends are active for me. It’s the best way to explore this amazing state. The sun’s up most of the time these days. Sometimes you can even see it.

The weekend before last was a sun filled affair with pleasant people, beautiful scenery, blooming wildflowers, and a death march.

It began innocently enough; a planned mission up Skyline Trail, across the ridge and down to Upper Fuller Lake and the trailhead. 13 miles of hiking. Couldn’t be too difficult, right?

Wrong. Skyline itself is a bit of a trek. Not even two miles, but it’s more or less like ascending muddy stairs for said two miles. But the view is incredible. There were six of us, and we quickly fell into different groups according to hiking speed. I ended up hiking with a Liz, a former Peninsula resident and pro cross country skier. She runs marathons, and liked to hike like she had left ice cream in the car. We quickly made our way around the ridge, leaving the rest of the group behind. We talked about cross country skiing, training techniques, and diet. Well, Liz did. I focused on trying to hear her over my ragged breathing. Five hours after starting, we had completed the trek.

Finally, here was my chance to recuperate, to finally start trimming Bonsai. Alas, no.

The next day, I decided to give my hiking muscles a break. I jumped on my mountain bike and went up Resurrection Trail to Juneau Lake – a round trip of nearly 20 miles. I’ll make a quick aside here to note that the muscle group used primarily in hiking, we’ll call them “legs,” is precisely the same group used whilst biking.

Mine, however, began to falter, at times even flail, earning the new title of “flegs.”

Monday morning, my flegs were flummoxed.

I tried to recover as best I could during the week, but instead I tried my hand at “Active Recovery,” which is the ill-fated theory that the best thing to do for muscles in need of recovery is give them more to do. I ran for three evenings in a row, including the Salmon Run Race 4.

I had nearly recovered enough by the weekend to feel inspired to do the entire Resurrection Pass, a nearly 40 mile mountain bike trek from Hope to Cooper Landing.

It was amazing. Breathtaking scenery, marmots bounding hither and yon, and hemlock trees that look like Alaska’s version of the Bonsai. Perhaps here, then, I can enjoy my idle time. Midway during a five hour trek through the wilderness, a brief respite to behold the beauty of nature. This is what my free time has become, and I couldn’t be happier with this development.

Besides, learning Jive is exceedingly difficult.