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Running the Sierra Nevada John Muir Trail

Apr 14th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
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Sierra Nevada Endurance Testing Grounds

by John Stamstad, part 2

Sleep deprivation is a pretty fascinating thing. Everywhere I looked, inanimate objects were moving, even the rocks, they just kept shifting around. The big rocks looked like tents, I mean they looked exactly like tents. I would stop and go up to them, usually say, “hello is anyone home” and have to touch it before being convinced that it was rock instead of ripstop.
The mind also has an interesting way of coping with stress. I was starting to get a couple of blisters but in my head they weren’t mine—they were someone else’s. The one on my right heel belonged to a girl at the office which is even stranger because I don’t work in an office. I kept getting mad at her, “would someone please tell her to stop smashing that blister, it hurts like hell!”, or “my god do I have to stop and bandage that for her again? Can’t she do anything herself?”
I stopped a little further down at Evolution Creek and slept for an hour. When I picked up my permit at the ranger station a couple of days before, the rangers gave me the scare talk about bears. “You can’t go out there without a bear canister”.  “You have to camp only where there is a bear box”. Well, I needed to sleep and this was the spot. I put my pack with the food about 10 feet away from me and just piled some good throwing rocks next to my bivy bag. If a bear wanted my food he wasn’t going to get it without a fight—my food was my lifeline. I slid into my mylar bag and slept for an hour without even needing an alarm clock to wake up. My body was totally in tune, I told myself to wake in an hour and despite the obvious serious fatigue, I did.
Evolution Creek can be a treacherous crossing so I wanted to be fresh. Dave Horton had to cross this stream in June when he was doing his PCT record run and the water was up to his chest – it was a life or death effort.
I awoke to cold air and a colder stream crossing but felt very happy to have cold, knee high water. It always makes things easier to think about someone who has suffered more.

Climbing up Silver Pass, just past Muir Ranch, I was overcome by the feeling that I had been there before, everything seemed familiar, I felt like I knew the route. I spent hours thinking about how you could have an intense feeling of deja vu even though you know you have never been there before. Here is the theory I came up with: I had researched the route,  read stories about it, and saw photos, so I had a lot of info about it. What if I had a dream about it months ago that I never remembered at the time. Where do those dream memories go? They can’t disappear completely. Maybe it’s the subconscious memory of those dreams that you don’t even know you had that can lead to deja vu……
I started having some pretty serious back and neck problems at the bottom of Silver Pass. I think the bouncing of the pack irritated an old cycling injury (I had a couple of mountain bike crashes that I lead with my helmet—compressing vertebrae in my neck and right between the shoulder blades). It was a wrenching dull-and-sharp-at-the-same-time pain. When those vertebrae go out of alignment I am just plain miserable. I was chewing ibuprofen like they were M&M’s.  I’d have to stop and with a lot of work I could do some chiropractic on myself and get everything back in line. I started doing pushups, because that would pop them back into alignment, but the last thing you feel like doing on a 200 mile non-stop run is to drop and do 30. I also tried hanging from a tree to put some traction on my back and stretch things out.

That night my sleep deprivation induced imaginary friends came out. I had about 4 alter egos who would help me problem solve, that way I could concentrate on running and they would take care of the other details. It sounds a little crazy to write about it now but at the time and in that state– which is like being a live character in a dream world– I didn’t think anything of it, it seemed logical. And it was actually very productive. One of them suggested that I wear the pack facing forward on my chest. I remember thinking, “Man why didn’t I think of that”. It worked like a charm for my back but the downside is when you wear your pack on the front you can’t see your feet, which means you trip a lot and have to go slowly.

Then my shoes started falling apart. They had completely split right at the crease between the toes and the foot. They were both wide open and in this terrain they just filled with sand. But it is not just sand, it is volcanic sand which is a lot like crushed glass. Not good for the feet. My toes would keep popping out of the shoe completely and I would have to stop and get them back in. And then I would have to stop every mile of so and dump out the rocks and grit. Don’t even get me started on the blisters. The little rocks were making divots in my skin and becoming embedded.
I tried taping the shoes closed but the athletic tape I had just didn’t work very well. If I had brought duct tape I might have been able to close them, but then sealing your shoes with duct tape is just going to cause more problems because they won’t breathe. The only downside of being a product tester is that sometimes you play the role of guinea pig, and you only find out about issues when you are halfway through a 220 mile run in the middle of nowhere. That shoe issue was fixed in production so at least I didn’t suffer in vain.

My back was getting worse. It got to the point where the instant I put the pack on my back, my neck would completely seize up. One of my imaginary friends told me that the whole thing was psychosomatic– I was creating the pain in order to avoid something else, that I was being self defeating. If the trail couldn’t break me then I would do it myself. I didn’t want to believe this, I didn’t believe it, I felt like my pain threshold was higher than it had ever been and that I was totally focused on the goal and what I was doing. It isn’t like I haven’t had any experience with discomfort. I once rode my mountain bike 80 miles with a broken collar bone and separated shoulder, and that was a pleasant afternoon compared to this.
Another friend came to my defense, sort of: “The pain is real, you are not creating it. The military is. They made this pack to intentionally torture you, to see how much pain a person can take. They are recording all of your measurements. They are going to use this data for interrogations.”
Hmm, that would suck. It took me a couple of hours to convince myself that that was probably impossible.  When you are out there all alone, different rules apply and you don’t take reality for granted.
Running non-stop for 4 days and 5 nights isn’t reality for most people so
I just kept pounding the ibuprofen and focused all of my energy on relaxing my neck and back. Slowly I could get it to function. With a combination of relaxation techniques, and alternating the pack front to back, self chiropractic, and pill popping I was able to make progress down the trail.
I was really bummed out because I was moving so slowly. I knew when I started this trail that everything had to go well. I was on a tight timeline, I had to catch a flight and get back to work. It obviously isn’t the way to do a trail like this but I had been trying for two years to run it and this was my only opening for the year, I just didn’t have any other choice. But by getting behind schedule I knew I might have to bail at Tuolumne meadows—just 25 miles from the end. That would be devastating.
My blisters were starting to be a problem. It is hard to train for blister prep when I never get them unless I run more than 100 miles. I used some of those miracle blister packs—the ones you just stick on a blister, they magically heal it, and when you remove them they don’t stick to the blistered skin. Well in the real world it doesn’t work quite as advertised. For one, they are waterproof , which really means that they don’t breathe. I realized this when I smelled the rotting flesh on my foot. I knew I needed to get that bandage off in a hurry and get everything cleaned out. Of course all of the skin came off with the bandage exposing raw meat. I went back to my old school standby of gauze and athletic tape and that worked beautifully.
These lower passes of Gladys and Ruby Lake –lower being only 10,000 ft–were warmer but going up Donahue was brutal—40mph winds and cold. There was nowhere to hide, I just had to put my head down and go. I got over the top and I really needed to sleep, this was my fifth night and I had only slept 2 hours total. I made it down to tree line but it was still way below freezing. I decided to bivy anyway. I pulled out my space bag only to find that it had ripped apart. I didn’t have much choice so I just laid down between two fallen trees for some shelter and wrapped the remnants of the bag around me like a blanket. I woke up an hour later and realized that my legs were so cold they had no feeling from the knee down. When I moved to feel them, my hands were like clubs, so numb from the cold that I couldn’t uncurl my fingers. I couldn’t even get up to walk. After a short panic attack, and a few agonizing minutes, I was able to get some circulation and movement back and I restored calm.  As soon as I could, I got moving and tried to generate some desperately needed heat.  I had 7 miles to go to Tuolumne Meadows, and as soon as I hit the warm sun I stopped and lay down on a rock…….
…..I opened my eyes, and tried to figure out what had just happened.  “Why are you here?” It felt too real to be a dream. I looked all over the ground to find someone’s tracks. I ran up the trail a bit to see if anyone was there. Nothing. I guess that woman was a dream. I have never been so affected by a dream. I never even have dreams…..but this whole run was starting to feel like one big dream…..I started to think about it, what did she mean ‘why am I here’…..and then of course the obvious dawned on my tired brain. She wasn’t asking about the details of my run, she wanted to know why or rather “she” was trying to get me to look at why I run. As it became clearer that I wasn’t going to have time to finish the JMT, I didn’t feel the guilty fear of being a quitter; I didn’t feel like I had failed.
It has nothing to do with running, or checking a trail off my list or setting a record.  I had had traversed 200 miles of an amazing stretch of wilderness, I had learned a great deal about myself, and I had an emotional experience that I simply can’t get in normal life. I came into Tuolumne Meadows feeling incredibly alive. That is why I am here.
__________________________________________
John Stamstad spent 15 years as a professional mountain bike racer specializing in long distance events before trading his bike for running shoes. He is a member of the Mountain Bike Hall of Fame, holds the 24 hour off-road world record and created Singletrack Ranch, a mountain bike instructional vacation company. He is an Endurance Ambassador for Patagonia and uses his vast experience as an athlete to help design their new shoes and clothing.

Behind the Scenes, part 2

by Dan Patitucci

Deep in the forest beneath the south side of Half Dome, we heard the phone ring. “I can’t believe we have service back here”, was the first thought that came to mind, much less whom would be calling, it was John. “You’re where?” …”The Tuolumne Store, I’m done, I’ll be at the store, on the side of the road, you’ll find me”.

Janine and I had run in hoping to meet John along the way so we could run out with him to the finish in Yosemite Valley. Now we were sprinting back to the car, knowing John would appreciate a timely pick up, still an hour plus drive away.

We pulled into the Tuolumne store’s parking lot right at dusk, and there, huddled amongst the boulders was a person so annihilated it could only be the result of 200 miles of running. In the shadows John lay as a dark mass, we helped him up and immediately noted the shredded shoes, filthy and torn clothing and the fact that his feet were anything but usable. “You must be ready to get out of here” I said. “I’m ready for a beer”.

A couple of hours later, after beers and fish tacos at the Mobile Mart, we pulled up to our Bishop house. John was long gone and waking him was tough, getting him out of the car harder still. Here was proof that rigor mortis is possible while alive. Once inside the house, he came up short of the bed, shorter yet to the shower, and collapsed in the armchair, displacing our cat. Once again, he was out. Here, in the light of the living room, I studied him. This was a man who had just run the John Muir Trail and had not slept much at all in 5 days. He looked the part. I have never done anything to push myself to these extremes, but I could imagine that what he felt inside his destroyed body was pure joy. I was left tremendously inspired.

________________________________________

John Muir Trail Photography

To see images of the John Muir Trail, visit our great friend, and professional photographer John Dittli’s website as he has produced the definitive coffee table book on the trail.

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John Stamstad Running the John Muir Trail Unsupported

Apr 12th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
3 comments

A John Muir Trail Record Attempt

by John Stamstad, Part 1

I lay down on a rock in the sun to warm up for a bit and I dozed off. A nice middle aged woman sat down next to me and looked at all my gear. She said, ‘Looks like you have some decisions to make.’ I said yes, I am trying to finish this trail but I have a plane to catch that I really can’t miss and tons of work to get back to and I’m trying to decide if I can/should try to make it. She replied, “Why are you here?” I went into a long explanation of how I was running the 225 mile John Muir Trail and I was doing it unsupported and I was trying to set a record. She smiled and looked at me with warm penetrating eyes, “But, why are you here?” And then she just got up and walked away……

John Stamstad

My run started four and a half days earlier on a cool evening at the Mt Whitney portal trailhead, just outside of Lone Pine, California. The John Muir Trail (JMT) goes for 200 miles and climbs almost 50,000 ft  before it crosses a road—I don’t know of many  trails in the world that can make that claim, if any—and this is in California of all places. Not only does it not cross a road, there are virtually no signs of civilization the entire way. I never saw city lights, I never heard the drone of a highway, and I don’t think I even saw a powerline. For an outdoor person, this is what heaven looks like. The trail is appropriately named after John Muir, who founded the Sierra Club and played a significant role in creating the National Park System. I think it is very fitting that the most significant point-to-point trail in the US is named after the most significant naturalist, and it is an absolute miracle that this wilderness is fairly unchanged from when Muir was exploring it in the late 1800’s. We all owe a lot to John Muir.

The Sierra Nevada’s Perfect Mountain Trail

I started thinking about running the JMT a couple years ago when I first heard about its existence. I really couldn’t believe that something like that existed in our modern world. I knew I had to experience this amazing section of wilderness.  I read up on previous attempts to run the trail (although as John Muir said, “One day’s exposure to mountains is better than cartloads of books”). Tim Tweitmeyer and a group ran it with some support and finished it in 5 days 10 hrs (from Yosemite south to the top of Whitney).

Ready, set, go. The John Muir Trail

Buzz Burrell and Peter Bakwin ran it in 2000 in 4 days 15 hrs (from the Whitney portal north to Yosemite) using a  support crew and were blown off the course near the end because of a major storm, but still finished in record time. Peter went back and ran it again in 2003 and set the record at 3:22. Keven Sawchuck went there in 2004 and set the current standard of 3:21 (with full support crew, from the portal to Yosemite). I make the distinction of level of support because I think it is important. There is a very big difference between carrying a big pack with lots of gear and running with the bare minimum, and having a crew cook hot yummy meals for you, take care of your feet, drive you to a hotel, and give you moral support at the lowest moments. I actually had a discussion about support levels with some elite ultra runners and one of them didn’t think there was much of a difference between a self supported run and a fully supported one. And actually he thought he could go faster self supported. Anyone who thinks that has never done anything ‘out-there’, never dealt with starvation issues, and has never gotten lost or injured with no one to look for them. When you do something solo you start with a nervous ache in your stomach: did I forget something? What happens if break an ankle, or twist a knee? Do I have enough food?  What if I get hit with snowstorm? This angst is quickly replaced with the adrenalin rush of knowing you are facing the trail, the elements, and yourself and nothing else—the world is simplified.
I was planning on doing the JMT self supported, meaning that I would not have a crew but I would make stops to buy food along the trail. Not that buying food is easy—in 220 miles there are only 2 stores (both towards the north end of the trail), and one place where a package could be mailed.
Then a few weeks before I was going to do my run, I heard about Reinhold Metzger. I called him and asked him about his record for doing the trail with no support. He did it in 5 days 7 hours (from the top of Whitney to Yosemite) and carried everything he needed; he didn’t even stop for a coke. That is so hard core. I am a firm believer in recognizing the precedents of athletes that have come before you. I knew I had to do the run unsupported even though it would certainly make it harder and slower because I would have to carry much more weight, and I didn’t have much time to train for that added weight. But it is a much more pure way to do it and much more in the spirit of John Muir—just you and the mountains. Anytime you need a car to do a wilderness run, you are missing the wilderness part of the experience.

John Stamstad running the John Muir Trail through Evolution Basin

The  route starts with a 6,000 foot climb from the Whitney Portal trailhead up to the peak of Mt Whitney—the highest mountain in the lower 48 at 14, 491 ft. Actually the proper JMT starts at the top of Mt Whitney, but you can’t start at the top of a 14k mountain without climbing it first. I was geared pretty light for crossing that type of unforgiving terrain: 18.5 lbs total, most of that food. I didn’t carry a sleeping bag or pad, just a Patagonia down sweater, Grade VI rain jacket and pants, some good gloves and a space blanket bivy sack. As I started up Whitney I realized I might not have the extreme heat issues that other JMT runners have written about. I knew right then that it was going to be cold. I have had a lot of experience with cold though. I’ve ridden my bike the whole 1100 mile length of the Iditarod Trail in Alaska in winter, so even though I had the bare minimum for gear, I was confident—I knew I had just enough. There is a great saying up in Alaska, “you tend to pack your insecurities”. It is always a fine line between carrying too much and too little. The less you carry, the less you need to carry because you are moving faster and get through it in less time. But if you don’t bring something that turns out to be necessary, it can lead to major problems. I’ve always believed in being pretty conservative when it comes to gear. I think it is really irresponsible to go out into the middle of nowhere unprepared, have something go wrong and have to rely on other people to rescue you. And when other people have to help you, you are putting their health and well being at risk.
Summiting Mt. Whitney as a warmup
The trail to the top of Whitney is 11 miles long and it took me just under 5 hours, which I thought was pretty good with a full pack and at a very easy pace. But after the top I really started to feel the chill. I was running with every piece of clothing I brought and I was barley warm enough. My feet were even getting cold, but the kicker was that my water bottles were freezing while I was moving. I knew that meant the temps had to be in the low teens or even single digits. That is scary cold when, mentally, you are still in summer mode. I had to keep shaking my bottles to break up the ice and then when I wanted to drink I had to stop or at least slow way down and hold the spout in my mouth to warm it up for a minute and thaw it out. My finger tips were getting frost-nipped from holding those bottles. And drinking near freezing water doesn’t exactly warm you up from the inside.
I ran straight though the night—sleeping wasn’t an option at those temperatures up high. While climbing 3000 vertical feet up the 13,150 ft Forrester Pass, I realized that the stream water, though cold, was warmer than 32 deg. So whenever my bottles froze I would just stop and thaw and refill them at a stream. It was a painfully slow process that was brutal on my already cold hands, but at least I could keep going.
The descent off of Forrester was really chunky and slow, and very hard on the body and feet with the heavy pack.
Glen and Pinchot, both at about 12,000 ft, were next up. Everything is a 3000 ft climb around here, and that wouldn’t even be that bad if they started at sea level but out here the low valleys are still 8 or 9,000 ft high. The terrain is incredibly sparse, most of this is above tree line, so it is just rock as far as the eye can see. With nothing to eat up there, the animals stay away; I don’t think I saw anything other than squirrels and a few buzzards the whole way.
The next morning I was on my way up Muir Pass. This is the real ‘hump’ of the JMT. It is about the 100 mile mark, and the last high pass. On paper the trail is all ‘down hill’ from here. The dry air was killing my throat and sinuses. My throat was so inflamed it was hard to swallow and my nose was constantly filled with dried blood. Structurally I felt perfect, I only had one small blister, and while I didn’t feel super fast, I felt like I was on ‘auto-pilot’ mode—I could run forever as long as I had enough food and water. I ran into Dan Patitucci on the backside of Muir Pass. He had run over Lamarck Col to meet me and do some photos for Patagonia. I was surprised I didn’t meet more people on the trail, and even more surprised that people really didn’t stop and talk. You would think that hikers who might go days without seeing another person and would really take the opportunity to connect with another human for a few minutes. Rarely did anyone say more than hello, and barely made eye contact. But I guess it is a different breed that does long trails, and the JMT and PCT thru hikers do it specifically to get away from people.
By the time I reached McClure meadow, down the valley from Muir Pass I had gone 2 nights without any sleep, and was on my intended pace to do the trail in  4 ½ days. It had been a big mistake to start this run at 5pm, it meant that I would have to do an extra night, and the nights proved to be cold and slow.
……to be continued

Behind the Scenes of Stamstad’s Record Attempt

by Dan Patitucci

“Sir, the John Muir Trail is not a day hike”.

This, from the overweight, under experienced desk ranger at the Lone Pine Ranger Office upon hearing that John did not intend to camp on the 220 mile trail. I was gagging on laughter as she went on to explain to one of the world’s best endurance athletes how the Muir Trail requires weeks of walking and camping. John, in his usual stoic way, listened patiently and politely. Finally he fessed up, “I’m running the trail, I’m not stopping, therefore I am not camping.”

The Ranger excused herself to call her supervisor. A square peg had walked in and did not fit into her round hole of bureaucratic training. To make a decision, she would need the help of a superior. A short time later she returned with newly drawn up regulations for John to read over. It stated John would not camp along the way, for if he did, he would need a bear canister. He agreed and together we exited the air conditioned building with permit in hand.

An hour later, on an unusually cold autumn evening, he stood at the Whitney Portal Trailhead seemingly unconcerned by the rapidly approaching darkness and cold night. On his back he wore a large Patagonia hydration pack bursting with high calorie foods, hopefully enough to get him to Yosemite National Park along one of the countries most demanding trails. He looked down at his watch, clicked start, said, “Cheers”, and was off. I watched him float away before turning to my car to drive home.

Two days later I woke early to get a head start on my own day. The plan was to run over Lamarck Col, through Evolution Basin and up Muir Pass where John said he would likely be passing at a specific time. The Sierra, in typical fall fashion, were spectacular and my own long day in was blissful. While heading up Muir Pass I saw a crouched figure ahead, descending awkwardly and slowly  - but nevertheless, the figure was running. It was John, exactly on schedule.

Upon connecting it became immediately apparent that he was in a bad state. His neck was killing him, his mouth was filled with sores from being stressed & eating odd foods, and of course he was utterly exhausted after running 100+ miles with no sleep, much of it over 11,000 feet. All of this in addition to having spent two nights out in well below freezing temps.

Being an unsupported attempt, I could give him nothing but encouragement. I could only watch him in his effort. It was a thing of beauty to see a man so driven to succeed. Together we ran through what is arguably the Sierra’s most beautiful valley, poor John unable to raise his head. I made some photos, told him a few jokes, and reminded him that Janine and I would be there at the end for him. Once again I watched him float away, halfway finished, and again I too turned on my own heels and ran my puny 15 miles out.  …..to be continued

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The Hard Man Woman PB & J Sandwich

Mar 15th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
17 comments

Thanks to Alex Newport-Berra for his second contribution to DolomiteSport. Alex is a great friend and remains the fastest man I have seen on a bike. He has his own blog which I find to be one of the most creative and fun sites in my list of bookmarks.

At the end, we’re throwing out a challenge to all those getting through Alex’s post, read on and enjoy. And for our European friends, it is truly time to learn something from these wise words. Remember who was fastest on the passes in 2009 – I hear Lance even lives on these – and the fuel of choice was…..

The PB & J (for Europeans: Peanut Butter & Jelly – yes, the horror, but read on)

by Alex Newport-Berra

First, an antipasta…

Whether it’s a pre-rando race plate of Mama’s pasta and Tiramisu at Ustaria Posta, a post ride Italian pizza the size of a bicycle wheel, or a simple, yet elegant stop at the top of Passo Staulanza for a mid-ride ginseng espresso and pastry energizer for the next pass, it is clear the Patitucci’s grand adventure lifestyle requires substantial fuel. And with Dan’s stamina and power some might confuse him for a horse, except that his palette is a bit more refined. A man, especially one with Italian blood and a Swiss wife, can’t live on oats alone.  Among all the amazing photos of far-off mountains in all seasons, interviews and insight from inspirational athletes, stories, and each new post to their site, I find the Patitucci’s talents whetting both my appetite for adventure and the unique cuisine they encounter as a result.

However, there seems to be a bit of a hole as the main caloric ambassador for the Patitucci’s U.S. adventures is, beer. The recipe I share with you here is the foundation, the traditional mountain adventure food of Americans everywhere. From the dirt-bag climbers living out of vans to the lift-junkies in Aspen to the diligent cyclist putting in long base miles for the season.

For all the European readers, with limited access and esteem for peanut butter, feel free to use Nutella and that fresh loaf of bread you picked up this morning at the local bakerei.

The recipe itself is quite detailed, explicit, and a touch obsessive, but it comes down to one thing Italians and many Europeans know well, a passion for food that fuels a passion for life in the mountains!  And, when cooking, or in any technical mountain pursuit for that matter, it is not so much the ingredients you use, rather it is the process, your intention, and precision of execution that dictate success.

When I was young this sandwich was my weekend fuel of choice for mountain bike rides in the woods.  In high school this PB&J fueled my good friend Matt and I on many climbing and hiking adventures that I’m sure put both our Moms on edge.  When I was in college it was with this sandwich I courted the most beautiful woman on campus.  In my early twenties, sick, weak, and chock-full of pain killers after an ACL surgery gone wrong, this sandwich was the only food that aroused my palette, and so it was this sandwich that nursed me back to health, strength, and bike riding vitality.

And now, the main course, the true hard-man/woman’s PB&J

Ingredients:

2 slices of your favorite sandwich bread (take the slices from the middle of the loaf, this will ensure you have the moistest, biggest, pieces of bread.)

Pure, natural fruit Jam

Natural, 100%, crunchy peanut-butter (Jiffy, Skippy, or any other brand with anything other than peanuts and salt is NOT ACCEPTABLE, you might as well use drywall spackle if you’re planning to make it with a brand that ends in “y”.)

Tools:

Butter knife.

The biggest, sharpest, knife in your house.

Plate.

Hands.

Mouth.

Make it:

It is crucial you follow these instructions exactly.  It makes a difference.  This recipe is one part tea ceremony ritual, one part artistry, and one part highly calculated PB&J foreplay.  And with the PB&J foreplay in mind, it’s worth informing, “do not eat, taste, etc. any of the ingredients during the construction process, your “first bite”, should really be, your first bite.”

Have at the ready your PB and jam because once you pull the slices of bread from the middle of the loaf they immediately start losing their fluff, moisture, and goodness, and you want those babies fresh for your first bite.

Place both slices of bread on the cutting board, one above the other, not side by side.  Seriously, this is not some sort of abstract impressionism; you just can’t be putting your bread all willy-nilly wherever you want.

Cradle the lower slice in your hand, spread a thick, 3/8 inch layer* of jam on its surface.  The spread here is finesse and it’s all in the wrist, this is where my childhood tennis and golf lessons came in handy.  Make sure the middle area is just a little thicker.

*a rather long, though necessary note about spreading thickness: unless you are an engineer or of another profession that works with a ruler on a daily basis, it is imperative you educate yourself on what 3/8 of an inch honestly looks like.  If you know your fractions you’ll realize I’m talking almost 1/2 inch here.  Go, now, and find a ruler, familiarize yourself with just how thick 3/8 inch actually is.  Yes, that IS a lot of PB and J.  And that IS the whole point.  The PB&J was not intended for the modern wave of caloric fear and scrutiny.  This is the kind of sandwich Sir Ernest Shackleton, Eddy Merckx, Reinhold Messner, or The Statue of Liberty would be proud of.  It is a blissful, positive, life-affirming sandwich that Oprah, Weight Watchers, Subway, or the muddled “Vogue” magazine calorie-free chocolate sauce psyche would not approve of, and is simply not prepared for.  So do you get it now?  Don’t skimp it.  Let the 3/8 inch beauty and size be fuel for a grand adventure, a long day in nature, a chance to trust that what’s in your stomach will serve as a foundation for an amazing experience to come, one without fear or worry of growing hungry, tired, or weak, mid-way through your efforts.  Or split it with a friend.

Place the lower slice, now covered with the prescribed layer of jam, on the plate.  Now, there will be some residual jam on the butter knife.  This is good.  Wipe the knife clean on the upper slice in two diagonal swipes, creating a faint “X” on the slice.

Cradling this slice in your hand spread a thick 3/8 inch layer of PB, again, a little thicker in the middle.  I’m not going into the crunchy vs. creamy debate.  Honestly, creamy PB is like buying a white Porsche, or Fabio and Heidi Klum wearing board-shorts and a muumuu to the photo-shoot.

Carefully position the PB slice on top of the jam slice on the plate, ensuring the edges line up with the precision of an elevator door closing.  Flip the sandwich over so the PB layer is now on the bottom.

Things are getting steamy now, dark hued jam oozing, rich peanut butter smells wafting in the air, the soft texture of moist bread grazing your open palm. And this is good, remember, “do not eat, taste, etc. any of the ingredients during the construction process”.  Food foreplay heightens the senses, appetite arousal, so the first bite is sweet, salty, crunchy, moist, orgasmic bliss.

The final cutting of the sandwich is where I got to secretly live out my desire to be a sushi chef.  I always admired the intention and focus they put into each cut, and their gleaming, larger than life knives.  This cutting process is where I used the biggest, heaviest, sharpest knife in the house.  Pick the sandwich up from the plate.  You will notice the wonderful heft of the sandwich, the glory of your true 3/8 inch* layers of love.

Place the sandwich back on the cutting board, jam side up.  Lightly tamp down the top side of the sandwich by moving the knife in a diagonal position and direction from the lower left corner to the upper right corner of the sandwich.  You are tamping, not smashing.  Some jam and PB will ooze out the side, this is ok, and where the one contradiction to the rules comes in.  Pick up the sandwich and lick clean the edges.

You will either be highly attracted to, or highly suspicious of, the tamping process.  Though, as a wizened Italian grandmother said to her quivering grandson before his first confessional, “I don’t care what you believe, just do it!”  The tamping process firms the moist mid-loaf slices of bread and creates uniform layers of bread PB and jam.  It also allows the bread to hold up to the mastication process a few seconds longer so each bite is a true amalgamation of bread, PB and jam, resulting in a heavenly, sin-free, experience.

At last, you are ready to “plate” your creation.  Make sure the cut line is going from the upper left hand corner to the lower right.  No garnish, no accessories, this one stands alone.

As you look with awe, wonder, and lust, you will be amazed at your feelings of affection for what many deem a simple stand-by.  Sweet chanting in your mind has become louder, perhaps vocal, as you find yourself muttering between swallows of mouth-watering pre-bite saliva, “It’s time baby, it’s time.  Let’s eat!”

If you’re intending to transport this beauty I have found that a good wrap in foil is really the only way to contain it properly as most “sandwich” baggies won’t come close.  Where, how, when, you enjoy this sandwich is entirely up to you, and the adventure it fuels.

___________________________________

>> DolomiteSport Photo Contest <<

We’re looking for the perfect PB&J photo in one of two forms. There are two categories in which to play.

1. Design : We’ll consider Alex’s principles of construction and rate according to design and presentation – this will be the overall prize and the winner will receive a Smartwool NTS Baselayer system courtesy of our fun loving friends at the wool clothing master.

2. Consumption : For those not so talented in food photography, this is the category for you. The winning photo will be chosen based on the effects/aftermath/mess of eating a finely crafted PB&J sandwich. The winner will receive a stack of DolomiteSport stickers along with a napkin.

Please post photos by April 1 to our DolomiteSport Facebook Fanpage

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Nina Silitch US Ski Mountaineering Team Member

Feb 12th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
1 comment

I just wanted to say thanks to Dan Patitucci who invited me to write this post for Dolomite Sport. Like Dan & Janine, we too are expat mountain enthusiasts. My husband led me to the Alps 10 years ago and we are still here with a family of two young boys who also share the same passion for living and adventuring in the Alps.

Ski Rando Racing in Europe | by Nina Silitch

Nina at the Pierra Menta World Cup

I grew up alpine ski racing on the hard packed slopes of Sugarloaf/USA in Maine and then quickly switched to Nordic skiing while at Dartmouth College, more because I think I was tired of freezing my tail off at the top of the start box in sub zero temps in my GS suit. Always a sucker for a new challenge, I took up telemark skiing in 1992. This free heel fix stuck with me for 12 years, really until I moved to the Alps. Then my husband said to me, “you really should try randonee skiing, it is what they do here in the Alps. I have seen more Americans come over to do the Haute Route (Chamonix-Zermatt ski tour) on their tele skis and be miserable. Not because they are not good skiers, but because the snow can be very tricky on descents and days are long and the legs just get spent.” So I took his words of wisdom, got myself a mid fat rando set up with Fritschi freeride bindings and women’s Scarpa magic boots. I was good to go for my first Haute Route in 2003.
So you are probably wondering…did you like it? Did you miss telemarking? For me, I thought… I could never make the switch. Well, I did love it. It took a little while to get used to the feeling of not being locked down, but soon I got used to it and loved the feeling of carving on groomed trails and floating through fresh powder. I was hooked and ready for the new challenge of randonnee skiing.

Ski Mountaineering? Ski Running?

What do you call it? Here in the Alps we call it randonee skiing. Also known as ski touring, or ski mountaineering or ski alpinisme or rando racing. I must say I have never heard it called “ski running” but hey, maybe that is a new word that is taking off somewhere in the world. The cool thing is that the sport is taking off worldwide. Sure, the sport has its roots in the Alps with the Swiss, Italians and French, but also with the smaller Alpine countries as well. In the US, it is still a very young sport. One could compare it to mountain biking when it first started in the US and look at it now. It is going gangbusters!
This is a sport that appeals to all levels of skiers. Racers or non racers. The Swiss do a great job of encouraging everyone when they host races and this same movement is taking off in the US. There are often A courses and B courses. The B, also known as the “fun pop” category is typically done on heavier gear. The A course is the lighter weight race division also with more distance and elevation gain. In the US, Pete Swenson, director of the United States Ski Mountaineering Association and also director of the COSMIC rando race series is very aware of the need to draw in more people into the race rando scene and working hard to grow the sport.

Nina on a boot pack section

The sport is not yet an Olympic Sport but is on the docket to be in the Olympics in 2018 if all goes well. The bottom line, it needs to grow exponentially worldwide. The sport will not become an Olympic sport if there are only the alpine countries competing. We need to grow the sport in the US and other smaller nations to show that more countries are present. This year the World Championships will take place in Andorra. Already there are many new countries that will be present, including the US and Canada but also Korea, China, Japan, Portugal, Greece, and Russia, just to name a few. We are calling all youth!!! Parents we need your help! Give it a try. Start a local club. Youth 14 and up can race, but the younger ones can certainly ski tour. I was just at a World Cup in the Dolomites and there were children from the local ski club, around the age of 10, cruising around in the their ski touring set ups cheering people along! What a great opportunity to give to your kids! Kids who have alpine raced or are strong skiers as well as kids with a Nordic background are perfect candidates for the sport.

Nina kickin' it to a Podium finish at Mt Saxonnex

In fact, that is how I fell in love with the sport: it combines, endurance of cross country skiing/ running/ hiking, the thrill of technical mountaineering, and the speed of alpine skiing. The transitions that take place throughout a course make it an exciting way to travel through our alpine mountain playground. What a stellar combination!

The national teams for the majority of the countries such as Switzerland, France, Spain, Italy, and Austria are all nationally subsidized. This covers the cost of travel, race entry, equipment and national team gear. Some of these athletes are members of the army and are actually paid to train. Not a bad deal, eh? The United States Ski Mountaineering Association is desperately seeking a big sponsor to help the athletes reach their goals and cover their costs. At the moment all athletes are responsible for everything out of pocket. Any ideas on this would be greatly appreciated.

Surely, racing is not for everyone, and when I started I did not race at all, but enjoyed solely the pleasures of touring in the sunshine, a break at a pass with a thermos of hot tea, a good salami sandwich and some good ol’ Swiss chocolate. While living in Switzerland I did my first night event, an uphill race on heavy touring gear. These races were held at local ski areas, starting around 7pm after work and always followed by a traditional Swiss raclette or fondue. You were guaranteed great ambiance, people of all levels keen to get a good workout and a nice meal in good company. I forged along in my heavy gear (in the US, I would be in the heavy metal category) while snowshoers and elite light weight people whizzed passed me. Finally I fulfilled my husband’s quota of 6 races on heavy gear and I got to invest in some lighter skis and bindings. After that I felt like I was flying on my skis! Really it does make a world of difference.

The night uphills led to a little more each year for me. The winter after my 2nd son was born (2007) I was hooked and wanted to do more. There were team races in 2 or 3 person teams, individual races up and down in off piste and stage races over a period of 4 days. Now, 5 years later since my 1st uphill race, things are different. When I go out for my ski it is often not for a casual tour, but I have a goal for the workout – maybe an endurance session or intervals or recovery depending on the training for the day. This season my goals are: the World Cup circuit, with many races in the Italian Dolomites, as well as on the volcanic Mt Etna in Sicily, the World Championships in Andorra, the famous French Pierra Menta stage race and lastly the famous Swiss ski mountaineering race, the Patrouille des Glacier.

Nina, Lyndsay and Tara at the finish of the 2008 Patrouille des Glaciers- in our Crazy idea suits- very flashy -designed by Valerie Coltera who has a great eye for keeping the feminine style to a suit

Women and Ski Mountaineering

Nina making her way through a boot-pack section of a World Cup with the Mont Blanc range in the back ground. Here you can see her race set up: Ski Trab Duo Race Aero skis, Swix CTS2 carbon poles, Pierre Gignoux carbon boots, Petzl helmet, Dynafit pack and Women's Roxy goggles from Eyeshop

Like all mountain sports there are not many women in the sport of ski mountaineering but I hope I can help change that. I hope that through my example, I can help empower women to get out and enjoy the mountains by taking on a new challenge of their own, like ski mountaineering. This year I helped found the Chamonix Ski Alpinsme section, a new section of the Chamonix Club. Already we have 25 members, 8 of which are women. We have some beautiful race suits made by Texner- we will be in the hottest pink suits on course!
If you are going for a touring set up that is lightweight but also will carve some great turns down, consider: Ski Trab Freerando Light Skis, Dynafit speedlight bindings and Garmont women’s endorphin boot. My friend Meg is new to ski mountaineering and wanted a lighter set up, she loves the endurance of skinning, but still enjoys making the turns on the downhill. Her goals this season are doing some longer ski tours, but she may race the occasional uphill race.

My race set up:
Ski Trab World Cup Race Aero skis with Dynafit titanium race bindings, Pierre Gignoux carbon boots, Swix CTS2 carbon poles with a biathlon grip. I am now racing with a CAMP pack and have a Petzl helmet. I have one of the lightest set ups around, but I am racing 1-2 times a week.
There are some great suits out there for women. There are a few race suits made by Crazy Idea- very sexy and beautifully designed by a women. Another great women’s line is Wild Roses- For Women by Women- They know how to make technical, feminine and functional clothing for the mountains.

I love the sport of ski mountaineering and I hope to share my passion for it with others. Of course I would like to help the sport grow in the US and worldwide so it can reach the Olympics. Surely, it is not easy raising two young boys, running a household, training at an elite level and working on the side. In fact it is very challenging at times, but the rewards are huge and make it all worth the effort. For me, it is not so much about being a super mom, but to be a great role model for my children and to share with them what they can attain in their dreams if they work hard. I hope that our story can inspire some of you to follow your own dreams or at least get out and try ski mountaineering! Thanks for reading.

Nina training for the Engadine ski marthon in Switzerland. Really, there is a baby in that pulk, maybe even a future ski olympian

Nina Silitch Bio

Nina is a member of the US Ski Mountaineering Team. She helps raise awareness for good health through sport and gives back to the community through philanthropy. She is the Vice President of the Chamonix Ski Alpinisme Club. She lives in Chamonix, France with her husband and UIAGM mountain guide, Michael Silitch of High Alpine and their two sons.

To follow her news visit: FastSkier or Silitch Family or on Twitter .

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Shopping Cart Enlightenment

Feb 8th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
7 comments

When I asked Alex Newport-Berra if he would like to contribute a mountain sport post to DolomiteSport, I had absolutely no idea I would get a story about a shopping cart. Coming from Alex I can understand his seeking enlightenment, but through a shopping cart? Well… this is his genius and exactly why I asked him to write in the first place for in addition to possessing the strongest cycling legs I have ever had the frustration of being dropped by, he also has an equally strong creative skillset in photography, writing and general thought. I truly love reading what he has to say. More of his work can be seen at his own site: Building Boats.

I Like Firewood

European inspiration

Endurance adventure athletes pair enlightenment with masochism.  The sweet with the salty, like the peanut butter and jelly sandwich stuffed in a rucksack for a summit snack (for all my Euro friends out there who don’t give PB its proper respect and don’t even stock it in your grocery stores, replace with Nutella).  A typical outing can involve riding 100+ miles on the bike while maintaining the dignity to sport shaved legs and lycra shorts with a built in crotch-cuddler.  Or maybe it’s a 4 a.m. start, swapping sunbathing weather for snow, omitting the Gucci speedo for a Pata-gucci shell and the electronic chic of an avalanche transceiver.

Yet for all the salt, sweat, suffering, and sacrifice we endure, there is always the luscious, mouth watering, jaw dropping, sweet reward: a day alone in the beautiful bosom of Mother Nature, perhaps exploring new roads with new friends, or the freedom of a simple focus on body, breath and movement, hour after hour.

It was on a winter afternoon when I found myself with the familiar taste of salt in my mouth, pushing an empty grocery cart, miles from its linoleum floored home, towards the local mountain. The previous week, at the end of a long road ride, an abandoned pile of firewood rounds in the ditch got my attention.  What got my attention even more was noticing later the crumbs of bark that were the meager remains of Old Man Winter feasting on my firewood pile.

The intention to train for a specific race or adventure eases the lactic acid burn, and I have plenty more on my list of “things-to-do”.  Justifying my idea of a shopping cart turned firewood hauler seemed perfectly logical and resourceful, and a good bit of cross-training.  People whizzing by in their cars were obviously the “Gold’s Gym” type.  Their confused faces blurred by as I loaded the cart to the brim, three miles from the nearest shopping center.


The trip back to my woodshed was mostly downhill, fortunately, since the wood was still pretty green, making for a heavy load.  The welds of the shopping cart squeaked and moaned, my hair and smile flew crazy with the wind.  Eventually I arrived victorious, bogging down the small wheels in the loose gravel driveway.

I unloaded and started savoring the sweet: winter fuel free of charge, bombing the last mile down smooth asphalt to return the cart, putting the cart back in the parking lot corral and imagining the story it was about to tell to all its metallic friends who were forced to spend the day under fluorescent lights and bar codes, a resourceful use of my body, sweet warmth to share with friends, food, and stories past and stories to be.  And a moment, when, a few weeks later, at the end of a day of mountain biking, I stand in the middle of my driveway, wielding the noble mountain man phallic known as a “splitting-maul”, taking a deep inhale between focused, zen-like chops, to observe the mountains’ rugged silhouette standing in front of a golden ember sunset glow.

Don’t tell Igor Tavella, but I’m preparing for a Despar shopping cart assault on Dolomite switchbacks.  Those Sud-Tirol folk are keen firewood stackers, and I imagine come summer there will be huts on the Sella ring in need of a few cords.


Feeding the beast, stoking the fire, fueling the flame, each adventure keeps the flame strong for the next.  The mountains have taught me many lessons, one of the most powerful being the truth of balance.  So with this, fellow bikers, hikers, skiers, and more, yodel loud and rejoice!  Whether it’s a wintry trip to the market or a full-on alpine escapade, the saltier your adventure, the more sweet the reward.

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Professional Road Racing Training Tips

Feb 5th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
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Training for a Granfondo? Perhaps the Maratona dles Dolomites

Post courtesy of Bruce Hendler at AthletiCamps: High Quality Coaching and Performance Cycling Camps, based in Northern California. Bruce is an old cycling friend of mine with whom I spent many hours pedaling and racing alongside. He has become a legend of cycling wisdom thanks to his vast experience and passion for the sport of road racing. I know as fact that he can help prepare the aspiring road racer who dreams of personal results at a Granfondo. With AthletiCamps training program or cycling camp education, you will be well prepared for endless uphill kilometers in granfondos such as the Maratona dles Dolomites.

_____________________________________________

Rubens Bertogliati

Its time to bring back a Pro-shop edition with two new guest professionals; Rubens Bertogliati (Androni-Diquigiovanni) and Vladimir Efimkin (AG2R.) I had the pleasure of working and riding with them this past couple months and was able to have some good discussions about their training and racing. Rubens is the current national Swiss time trial champion and has worn the yellow jersey in the 2002 Tour de France. Vlad has finished 11th in the Tour and won stage 9 in 2008. He won the Tour of Portugal in 2005, and has numerous professional accomplishments. Both are looking forward to having good seasons and are super friendly and outgoing.

Q: As we go into the new 2010 season, what types of things are you doing to prepare for the long and very difficult season? Are you changing any of your preparation?

RB: Normally the season in Europe or Italy starts at the beginning of February. As usual I start training on the bike about two months before. In the first month I do free body exercises, swimming, and a little bit of running as well. Then I will

Vladimir Efimkin

increase the number of hours on the bike. I arrive in January prepared to do 6-hour training rides. Normally on the bike I concentrate on 3 important factors: force, rhythm, and endurance. Force is to develop power; rhythm is to have a good spinning frequency and endurance is to have a good capacity for long distances. Of course, balancing everything with specific structure is the trick that we focus on.

VE: For me, from a training standpoint, I am pretty much doing the same things I have done in the past, as they have been successful for me. The season is long and hard and I must separate myself by not “getting too serious” too early. It’s funny, you see me on our rides only eating simple food like bananas and small sandwiches. The reason I do that is I will be eating “race food” for about 8 straight months! We also talked about massage. Pretty much all race season, I am on a table getting massages, before a race, after a race. With a schedule that includes 80+ races, I need a break right now, so the timing of getting serious is important and that point usually happens at the team presentation and training camp. During this part of the year, I still train, but more as a prep for the more difficult training.

Q: How do you define success for yourself this upcoming season? Do you have individual goals, team goals? How do you as an experienced athlete measure your success?

RB: First of all it is important to arrive at the races well in form. Then my goals are absolutely the Swiss championships and the Giro d’ Italia. The team goals are important (maybe you have to help one of your team mates in the general classification of a stage race.) I can say that the team goals are focused around all the races in Italy. Surely my individual goals are to win as many races as possible, concentrating on the time trials and on the breakaway stages. I think that first of all you have to be happy about what you have done in the race and before the race, then the results are secondary.

VE: I think for me, it’s about improving on results from the past, as knowing my previous accomplishments allows me to set realistic and attainable goals for improvement. Of course, team goals are very important, but as individual riders, we must look for our opportunities and a good director will help guide an individual’s effort that blends with team goals. But first and foremost, we are professionals and we must respect the team. Being a professional on the same team for a couple years, we already know the big goals for the year, mainly the Tour, which I am very excited about after having bad luck in 2009.

Summary:

  • Training is changing at all levels. Both Rubens and Vlad stated many times that training is changing at their level of the sport or at least for them. Gone are endless miles of volume and substituted is some form of monitored structure . Professionals cannot sacrifice volume, but they are now balancing that volume with structure. Adding this element can allow them to track progress (just like amateurs), and give training some meaning along with motivation to improve.
  • The workouts. When you ask these guys what types of workouts they do, it’s basically no different than anything most amateurs do. It’s just that they do the workouts with more hours and of course, higher wattages. In other words, there is no “secret” workout for the pros, just because they are pros. It’s about understanding your goals and most importantly, their environment while developing a program that allows them to succeed.
  • Picking races (and goals) you can excel at. At the level of the sport these guys are competing, they choose goals that suit their riding style. It’s taken them years and years to fine tune this aspect of their career. As a coach, this is an important topic to discuss with amateurs. We try not to stereotype riders to specific styles of races, but try to focus on overall fitness level, especially when starting out in the sport. Most of the time, good fitness can overcome the statements of “I cannot climb” or “I cannot time trial.” Successful riders at the local and regional level compete and do well in all types of race environment.
  • Training prepares you to race. I think one of the most important lessons we can learn from Rubens and Vlad is that their training prepares them to race. If they have not prepared the body to race, then the season could be a disaster. If you race too early (and try to race often) and are not physically or mentally prepared, it can have a negative impact on your season. From a physical perspective, early stress will fatigue you enough that your body may not recover. From a mental perspective, not doing well doesn’t really help morale. A lot of new (and experienced) racers compete way too early and we see this all the time. They wonder why they don’t improve and a lot of them leave the sport quicker than they got into it. Rule of thumb: the longer it takes to get fit, by following a good training program, the longer you stay fit.

    • Again, thanks to Rubens and Vlad for their help in this article. I think the major take-home messages here are pretty obvious. First, make sure you are prepared to race before you race. A good solid training program with specific goals is key to any successful season. Two, there are no special workouts. You have to define your goals and track your progress throughout your training and racing.

    About Bruce
    Bruce Hendler is a USA Cycling Coach and owner of AthletiCamps in Northern California. For the past 9 years, he and his experienced team have helped athletes of all levels achieve their goals in the great sport of bike racing through cycling training camps, cycling coaching and performance testing. To contact AthletiCamps, either give a call at 1-866-370-6516 or request more information at the Contact Us page.
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