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Inspiration

Inside the Pain Face

Feb 2nd, 2012
by dolomitesport.
11 comments

Thomas Voeckler with the Pain Face

This post is going to be a community effort – in other words, at the end of the story, I need your own contribution on this subject -but first, read on.

Recently, while suffering mightily in a race, I actually pondered the question, “What do other people think about in competitive events when they are suffering?” Apparently, I think about blogging. But not just this, I was trying to stay focused, maintain my breathing and be aware of my body to see where/if I could either save some energy or be more efficient at my max for the distance. But all of this only goes so far, at some point the other stuff creeps in; doubt, anxiety, longing to be finished, and fear of being caught. From my years of being a competitive athlete, I know that all this stuff needs to be managed.

What seems like a lifetime ago, I was a young road racer living in Davis, California. One spring I did California’s Visalia Road Race in a full field of 100 plus riders. Alone, with about 8 miles remaining and one big climb, I got away from the group. There, on the last climb, I realized that all my training was for this moment, and we don’t get them so often.

I’d spent the winter riding obsessively, also alone, in miserably wet, foggy and windy conditions of California’s Central Valley. I vividly remember days riding on partially flooded farm roads, where each pedal stroke dunked my foot in brown water. I can still see the rain drops as they dripped from the rim of my hat while I sat changing a flat tire with soaked, wrinkled skin and numb fingers in the muck on the side of some country road. It was no surprise I was the only one out.

In Visalia I managed to stay away, I rolled over the top of the climb and began my descent knowing I had a chance. Inside my head came the voices, “A chase group is coming”, “They are better descenders”, “They are closer than you think”, “How will I keep it together for the flat section to the finish?” This is the stuff that needs to be managed. “Fuck all that, this is why I spent all those hours sitting in the rain and wind.” For perhaps the first time in my life, I was 100% focused on what I wanted, everything else dropped away. Inside my Pain Face was one thing only, determination.

At the bottom of the descent I took the last right turn wide, got out of the saddle and started sprinting the final section of straight road through a corridor of orange trees. Ahead was the finish line and some audible cheers from the meager crowd. With 200 meters to go, I looked back over my shoulder to see the chase group in full pursuit. Every rider was out of the saddle sprinting towards the line. My Pain Face turned into something else when I looked forward again, I was crossing the finish first. From not having anything in my head to having it all, that moment is mine.

Still in a full sprint, I did something that surprised no one more than myself. I didn’t stop, I kept going, straight to my little white pickup where I jumped off my bike, threw it in the back, grabbed my hidden key, jumped in and sped away. What could have been my first big victory salute on a finish line was saved for the privacy of my own car. Maybe I wasn’t ready to get outside my head, I wanted it all to myself.

Ultimately, unless you are a professional athlete, the outcome does not matter – what matters is what goes on inside your head, for that is what you really experience.

My Question to You

What do you think about at times like this? You ultra runners… what are your thoughts at mile 80 when you’re hurting and full of doubt? Or, the ski mountaineering racers on those long and painful climbs when there are someone else’s ski tips on your tails? And you bike racers in a break wondering if everyone else hurts as much as you do as you rotate through to the front? What goes through your head? Are you focused on your body? Managing the stress? Thinking about ice cream? Or are your thoughts scrambled, a little of this, a little of that?

Please, for all you athletes regardless of what you compete in, leave a comment here and let’s hear your thoughts.

Thank you in advance to those the contribute.

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Cycling and The Art of the Stop

Dec 1st, 2011
by dolomitesport.
3 comments

Over the summer I was training with an American cyclist friend visiting the Dolomites. He’s ten years younger, still competitive and hungry for results. At the time I was moderately fit on the bike, so together we rode hard in the mountains. He destroyed me. Back at my place one day I was recalling a story for him when I said, “I was listening to This American Life on my headphones while riding and…” . “Whoa, wait a second”, he stopped me. “You were listening to a podcast and not Slipknot while training?”. This little question made things very clear.

Unmistakable signs of age. They are showing up. I’m trying to convince myself that these subtle little changes are okay, let’s see what the natural aging process does. On the bike, one thing becoming very commonplace, is the Stop.

What is the Stop? It’s simple, it is saying yes to that nagging call of seeing a great spot while out riding, but actually stopping, getting out of the pedals and off the bike, and actually parking your padded, and possibly chamois creamed, rear on a bench/wall/rock/grass or cafe chair. There are few more enjoyable things to do in life. It is a pause while loving something to simply soak it all in, where you are, how you feel, and to really take in where your legs have gotten you.

I’ve known about the importance of the Stop for many years as I had an experience prove the value of taking this time for myself. I grew up bike racing in Sacramento, California. The beautiful American River Bike Trail was my commuting road, my training ground and even as a kid, my way to school. One particular bench became a standard stop. There I sat with friends and drank coffee while bike commuting to work. There I sat and ate a bar after a huge training day and River Ride. There I sat to soak in it all, being an athlete, being alive and out doing what I love.

In 1997, life took me to Alaska where I commercial fished for 6 months. It was a trying and difficult time. Sometimes 40 hours would go by without sleep and the resulting mental state would have me hallucinating to other places, other times. More than any other place I would drift off to was that bench. It was the natural place my mind would seek safety and comfort. Even so very faw away, I had to go to that bench.

Now, I seek out these Stops. Equally as important as the ride’s experience are the little additions I give it. Ultimately, these things are more important than my average heart rate or kilometers ridden. Today I stopped at a bench I know well and felt the warmth of an unusually warm December day dry my sweat after a 500 meter climb. I looked down on my valley, frozen in the shadows yet glowing in the sun, and I simply enjoyed being.

My road home

 

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Buddha on the Bike

May 10th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
17 comments
dp_sella

Dan Patitucci training on the Sella Pass, Italian Dolomites

A couple of years back I had a realization. Riding a road bike was feeling as natural as breathing or eating. Since 1987 I have been training, racing and riding a bike for the pure joy of it – almost everyday. But it wasn’t just a comfort level I noticed, it was something more, the bike was literally a part of me, a part of my life.

2007 Maratona dles Dolomites. Buddha time

Then I read Malcom Gladwell’s book Outliers and discovered his 10,000 hour rule. He says that for any skill, at roughly 10,000 hours of dedication, one “masters” the art of what it is they are practicing. I went back to my pile of training logs, did some math, and sure enough, I was at 10,000 hours.

Now, years later, I still ride and think about this. Mastering cycling doesn’t mean being the fastest or best bike handler, it simply means the body knows how to be on a bike, knows how to make it move and knows how to respond to training stimuli.

But what about my head? As an aging athlete with a lifetime of sports behind me, I am beginning to think about all of this a bit more, to really understand my body, to understand its health and most of all, to understand what it is I am all about. On the bike I sit, often alone, for hours at a time. Pedaling is my discipline, it is also meditation. It is important to practice the discipline, but it is crucial to look inward when doing so.

Uphill, spinning, relaxed shoulders, relaxed seated posture, breathing; I call it my Buddha time. The mind is clear, not doubting, not thinking too much, letting everything go and just pedaling. The head clears, life is simple, a discipline allows this. I return to this quiet feeling in times of stress and it gives me strength. Like the Buddha beneath the Bodhi Tree, the Tree of Knowledge, we cyclists are on the path to our own enlightenment as we sit on the bike processing so many things.

Some sports let us do this, they give us time to think, or to not think if this is what is needed. My own are often solo, in the mountains, where I go to practice what I believe is ultimately best for me. I look back at my own writing and find consistency in what I share; reflections on life, whether it be while cycling, running or backcountry skiing.

I genuinely hope that you, while reading this, can replace each reference to myself, with your own “I’” and “My”. Maybe hitting 10,000 hours really only allows more clarity, or it allows the mind to be a bit more free. But no matter, as long as one is mindfully on the way is what seems most important.

“There are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth…not going all the way, and not starting.” …The Buddha

Stress Management, Pordoi Uphill Time Trial

We’d love to hear your thoughts, feel free to comment below with your own experiences. Thanks.

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Born to Run Ski Bike Climb

Mar 4th, 2010
by dolomitesport.
2 comments

Scott Jurek's foot and shoes after Western States

Now we understand why the question was continually asked of us when we recently visited the US, “Have you read Born to Run?”. Until now, the answer was, “No”.

I typically avoid such books. I don’t read any How to Do anything, avoid “Self Help” as if it were death and entirely ignore any outdoor publications. Why? 1) I don’t want to be influenced by segments of the very media I work within. And 2) A lack of soul from some of these same segments. If I am going to read something it’s going to be either a good book or some favorite blog of someone speaking from the heart. Born to Run was like both.

For me, the book spoke to my own soul by clarifying what I have been processing for many years. What do endurance sports offer than just the sports themselves? Age has introduced me to some small tidbits of wisdom, thinking about these tidbits has given me some clarity, and practicing this clarity has brought me much happiness.

I don’t want to analyze the book or quote much, if this is something you’re interested in and you haven’t already read it, just go get a copy. But, I do want to bring up something as it pertains to endurance mountain sports. It is this idea of training your soul as much as your body.

At some point in the last years my outlook on sport evolved. The idea of “sport” changed to “my life”. I get up in the morning and I go do what I do in the mountains, be it trail running, skiing, climbing or cycling. It finally struck me that this is what I had been striving for. I wanted my life, my work and my passions to all be one and the same. To live my vision of the life I chose to pursue. Amongst all this time, about 15 years, I went to the mountains 300+ days a year, and I worked hard both physically and mentally. What it has given me is an understanding of myself, how I relate to others, and a happiness within both. Born to Run speaks to this. We were meant to run, or, we were meant to push ourselves both physically and mentally, thanks to the fact that we can push ourselves.

For some people, “sport” is an art form, and mountain sports are superb for this. Through sport you express yourself. It brings out the best and the worst in you. Compete and learn even more about who you are. Pay attention and learn some things. As you practice, it becomes apparent that what you are really doing is being creative with living. When I was a fulltime rock climber in the early 90′s I read a quote by the famous Italian climber Manolo, “Climbing is the Art of Movement”. From that moment on I looked at climbing as an art form that I wanted to learn so as to be able to express my own balanced movement. It changed how I climbed and has forever influenced me in my thinking. Identify your passion and then pursue and dedicate yourself to it as an artistic expression of your being. What greater medium can there be than your very own mind and body, their health and strength? The rewards are infinite.

Endurance sports are not going to provide the answer to the Meaning of Life, but maybe they will help us, as individuals, answer some of our own questions as to the Meaning of our own Life.

Scott Jurek and Ann Trason at the Western States 100 Mile Race

Scott Jurek in the 2002 Western States 100 Mile Race

In 2002 I photographed my first Ultra Marathon, The Western States 100. What I saw was as influential as the line from Manolo. I saw what was possible by those pushing beyond supposed limits. I decided I had to experience the same things to learn something about myself.

The first location from where I had to shoot was at about mile 50. I knew Scott Jurek was leading the race and was well off the front. Having never seen a 100 mile race, I suspected the runners would slowly hobble through at only the halfway point of 100 miles and 100 degree heat. With my camera set up and ready to shoot on a long straight stretch, we waited. Finally, our spotter whistled, Scott was coming. I looked through the viewfinder and got ready to focus and fire. But when Scott came into site I quickly realized, this was something special. He was flying. Having just gone through an aid station he was eating and emitting grunts as he forced the food down. I doubt he knew we were there, we were like voyeurs into his private world. The passionate lover of human potential took over in me, instead of making photos I looked up and began screaming for him. Thankfully I managed a few shots and this one, because it is so very real, is my favorite.

Ann Trason in the 2002 Western States 100 Mile Race

The legend Ann Trason, La Bruja, in Born to Run. All of the same feelings and emotions I had for Scott were repeated when, not far behind, Ann came through. These are perhaps the greatest ultrarunners ever.

Scott Jurek after running 100 miles in a little more than 16 hours

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Passo Giau, Duran & Tre Cime di Lavaredo

Sep 16th, 2009
by dolomitesport.
5 comments
09SPcy0120

The magnificent top of the Passo Giau

Thanks to our Guest Contributor Alex Newport-Berra for his description of riding the famous Dolomite passes and his cycling adventures.

Editor’s note… Alex was connected to us through a mutual friend after he expressed interest in spending time riding in the Dolomites. He arrived with his bike and little else, checked into Alta Badia’s Ustaria Posta for 4 weeks, and became a legend on the roads for his power, endurance, and incredibly long days climbing, climbing, climbing. After his rides he would sit in the ice cold river behind the hotel for long periods, letting his legs go numb for the recovery benefits. As it so often does in a small town, word spread amongst the locals of this crazy American sitting Buddha-like in the river. It was also noted how strong he was. Come summer 2010, I bet we see some Italian cyclists sitting in the river. For me it was a joy to meet Alex and get to show off the roads of the Dolomites. He left me with some training to do.

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Alex and Dan riding the Dolomite's Sella Pass

Alex Newport-Berra

There are enough passes in the Dolomites to keep your legs busy for weeks, and when you realize you can climb them from either direction you’ll simply want to double your daily mileage, and when you think about it, why not?  A 140 kilometer ride is going to be at least 70 km of downhill, so you’ve really only ridden 70 km, and with the next espresso always less than 10 km away.

My first trip to the Dolomites was a four week paradise during the month of July 2009.  The roads, people, scenery, and culture had a profound effect on me.  I encourage anyone to find their own time cycling in the Dolomites, whether it be for a few days, a few weeks, or, for my friend Dan, a few months that turn into a few years.

The Passo Giau

I remember the first time I climbed the Giau.  Actually, I remember every time I climbed the Giau.  Probably similar to the way a mother never forgets childbirth, not the most pleasant feeling during the act of it, huffing, puffing, grunting, red-faced, but when it’s all said and done there’s a big smile followed by the words, “Isn’t it beautiful!”

The Passo Giau waits confidently in a narrow canyon, pain disguised amidst the beauty of cascading waterfalls, towering forests, hundreds of year old farming cottages and rolling green hillsides.

My friend Matt had loaned me his iPod and I was listening to Metallica and as I approached the base of the climb. As if on cue, the song “One” started to play in my ears.  “One” is a song about a Vietnam war veteran who awakes to find that he has lost all of his limbs in war and is now merely a torso on life support.  The song starts with sound effects of an army helicopter and gunfire rallying in the background.

Alex

Alex Newport-Berra ear to ear

A simple triangular sign with an exclamation point, “29 Tornanti!” seemed to serve as a sort of warning that I was in for something serious. Already the climb had a reputation in my mind when Dan and Igor both gave me their thoughts on the climb.

The combination of music and mystique had me feeling I was going to battle, entering the front line.  Which, was almost the truth, considering the Dolomites were home to many epic sieges and battles during World War I.

Subsequent ascents were “easier”, thanks to me learning the value of a well timed espresso and knowing a bit more what to expect.  Maybe maternity wards should start administering espresso shots for the mother to be.

Still, the final two kilometers, winding exposed up a high alpine meadow, the summit hut in view, you can’t help but feel you might be picked off by a lactic acid sniper on the cliffs at any moment.

The Tre Cime di Lavaredo

You’ll notice this climb lacks the “Passo” lead-in of the others.  And this is because the road does not go up and over, just up, and then up some more, and then stops with the most spectacular panorama you will get from a road in the Dolomites.

The meat of the climb is seven kilometers, and don’t worry about filling your water bottles at the bottom, in fact, you’re better off just emptying them. 1) you won’t want to be thinking about the added weight  2) you’ll need every inhale for oxygen.

About halfway up the climb, spray-painted on a barrier after an intense switchback, you’ll see written, “Al rifugio del Pirata”, an homage to the late Marco Pantani, one of cyclings most beloved pure climbers.

Alex_Duran

After the Passo Duran and Staulanza

The Giro d’Italia used this climb up the Tre Cime di Lavaredo a couple years ago and if you need inspiration you’ll get it from passing over names of famous cyclists who ascended en route to a stage finish.  (One year they used this climb after an epic stage that included an ascent up the Giau earlier in the day.)

The climb up to the Tre Cime di Lavaredo is the steepest (note – sustained 19%).  On most climbs the switchbacks are less steep than the straight bits, however, on the Tre Cime the switchbacks are steeper.

The view at the top is amazing and worth the extra half kilometer at your max heart rate to get to the top-most parking lot above the hut and lower parking area.  From here the horizon opens up in every direction with the towering Tre Cime di Lavaredo behind, patting you on the back for a job well done.

The Passo Duran

Ascending the Passo Duran from the town of Agordo is the recommended route.  A couple kilometers into the climb you’ll notice painted on the road, the words, “Once in a lifetime”, nobody claims to know the exact who or why behind the words.

One possible explanation Dan and Igor offered is the descent.  Most of the descents in the Dolomites are smooth, well paved, swaths offering plenty of cornering space.  The Passo Duran however requires a bit more attention to the front wheel and speed.  Narrow, rough road, wheel-eating cracks, tight turns, but don’t let this description detract you from the climb, it just means you’ll have a good reason to take the descent slowly, giving you time to enjoy the view of the forested surroundings.

The first time I climbed Passo Duran and saw the words written at the bottom I made a pact with myself to defy them.  And in keeping the promise I like to think my two ascents up the Duran meant I lived two lifetimes during that first trip.

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Alex Newport-Berra doing what he loves, riding his bike uphill

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