Return to Desolation

This weekend, I made a second sortie into the Desolation Wilderness near Lake Tahoe. Last time I went there, I injured my foot. I decided to repeat that same loop, but in one day instead of two. The terrain isn’t wild enough to warrant camping.

I did the black loop, and didn't use the red escape route from seven weeks ago.

The total length of the loop is 29.4 miles (50km), with a rough vertical of 4800 feet (1500m). I was aiming to finish this in 7-8 hours, which roughly means I would need to bring 2400 kcal. The trip took me 11 hours, and the food only lasted half-way.

Overall, I’m very happy with both the run and my performance: the scenery was fantastic, I never stopped moving, and I also avoided both injuries and pain. The only thing lacking was my speed, but that was an effect of not thinking when packing the night before.

If you don't care about running nutrition, you should skip to the place marked XXX.

Two factors interfered with my ability to think clearly about my nutrition strategy:

1)  I’ve spent too much money and time in the dentist’s office because of past over-consumption of gels and sugary sports drinks. I now try to eat as much real food and as little sugary food as possible when I run.

2)  When packing, I suddenly realized how small my new hydration vest was. After I packed the minimal gear required for safety, there wasn’t much room left. That made me pick the calorie-densest nutrition I had on hand, without paying sufficient attention to the mix of nutrients.

Based on those factors, I made a snap decision on what to bring, instead of doing some easy math. (Always do the math!). Here is what I brought:

		Units	Carb (g)	Protein (g)	Fat (g)	Energy (kcal)
Almond Butter	Pack	5	30	35	90	1000
Peanuts	Pack	2	12	14	28	320
Clif Shot Gel	Pack	4	48	0	0	400
Tortillas	Pcs	5	60	5	5	300
Provolone Cheese	Slice	5	0	25	25	350
Smoked Ham	Slice	5	0	50	25	350
			150	129	173	2720

2700 kcal should be sufficient for this effort. However, I also should have done the following analysis:

A general rule of thumb for exercise is that we need 0.75 g/kg/hr of carbs and 0.25 g/kg/hr of protein. If I had done the math beforehand, here is what I would have seen:

	Carb	Protein	Fat	Kcal
Need/hr*kg	0.75	0.25	0
Need/hr @ 88kg	66	22	0	352
Hrs fueled	2.3	5.9		7.7

The carbs I brought last only 2.3 hours. Duh. I had a huge breakfast, so I lasted a bit longer than that, but it should have been obvious that my mix of nutrients was way off.

Even accounting for using some fat as fuel during a long effort like this, I didn’t have enough. Here is an alternate hypothesis that I might try out one day.

	Carb	Protein	Fat	Kcal
Need/hr*kg	0.5	0.25	0.15
Need/hr @ 88kg	44	22	13.2	382.8
Hrs fueled	3.4	5.9	13.1	7.1

So, that’s the root-cause analysis of my slowness.

XXX

Now, here is what happened during the actual run.

Thunderstorms were expected by 3pm, so I planned to start early and be back in the car before Thor showed up in his chariot. That thought of lightning was enough to get even me out of bed before 6am. I headed over to Ernie’s and had the big breakfast we all dream of before a run.

Breakfast!

After that, I drove up to Echo Lake and started running at 7:20am. The temperature was about 50F (10C), but the sun was already quite strong. The first 9 miles up to Mosquito pass were uneventful. I remembered the trail as quite runnable, but this morning it wasn’t for me. I was fretting about twisting my ankle on the rocks. Ironically, on the way back I was tired enough to ignore that fear and just roll down the trail.

Going up was slow, but going down ten hours later, I had lost respect for the rocky trail.

Wildflowers by Lake Aloha.

All snow gone from Mosquito Pass. Looking down into Rockbound Valley.

Near the top of Mosquito Pass, my bottles were empty.  Just according to plan to plan. Refill station would be the Rubicon River two miles down hill. When I ran into two ladies in their mid-40s carrying double bottles and wearing ultra runner magazine tees, I thought I'd just check in on the water situation with them.

 One of them told me clearly that there was very little water in the river, and that I ought to make a 2-mile detour to Clyde Lake to fill up. Something in how she spoke (probably that she was very loud) made me think that she was one of those park ranger types that will not give you the truth, but will feed you the information that will lead you to the decision they want you to make. So I went down to check the river out and found plenty of fresh, running water.

 Please don't be that person: respect your fellow adults and let us all make our own decisions.

The mighty Rubicon. Maybe not, but still plenty of water.

The trail in Rockbound Valley was very nice and very runnable. Last time I passed through I was in pain and lost the trail several times. I have now learned the Rule of Finding the Trail: if you lose the trail, it is always up-hill.

Rockbound Valley felt like a well-groomed park. 

Climbing up the granite fells to Velma Lakes was as uncomfortably hot as last time. Around here, I started realizing that I was almost out of food. I was barely half way. I think my body was screaming for carbs, but I kept feeding it fat. That’s how you eat 400 kcal per hour.

My granite highway.

By Velma Lakes I came back to the Pacific Crest trail, and turned south on it. I passed through a radioactive forest, and sat down with my feet in the water of Fontanillis Lake while I re-applied sunscreen, and had my last Almond butter. The time was 1:15pm, and I only had 2 oz of Peanuts left.

Radioactive forest.

Brief relief. (It rhymes!)

I quickly got back on the trail and passed Dick’s Lake, which marked the beginning of a 1200-foot climb that was exposed to the sun. This was my mental low point of the day. I pushed hard but moved slow. Arriving at the crest, I was quite annoyed to look down on the saddle point.

Dick's Lake, Dick's Peak, and Dick's Pass.

"Dick's Pass", 150 feet higher than the saddle point.

South from Dick's pass. Lake Aloha in the background.

Luckily, the views on the south side of Dick’s Pass were amazing. I also met someone who was feeling worse that I did. Both invigorated me.

While snapping these photos, a man in his early 60s climbed up toward me on the trail. I said hi and asked how he was doing?

-          “OK.”

-          “Where are you headed to?”

-          “North.”

-          “Uh-hum. Where are you coming from?”

-          “I started at the border in April”

-          “Wow – that’s amazing! How has it been?”

-          “I dunno. Frankly, it has worn me down.”

Even though I feel sorry for him, it was great to get a dose of reality from a real border-to-border wanderer. The stories of those adventures that get told widely are usually so rosy. This guy was sick of it, and couldn’t wait to bail out at Donner Pass, 50 miles down the trail.

I proceeded down through wild-flowers and greenery, and always managed to find fresh running water when I needed it the most. My stomach was rock-solid throughout, even though I was sweating a lot in the heat.

Leaving Dick's Pass. Heading down to the saddle point.

Overall, I was quite uncomfortable for the last six hours of the trip. However, it was clear that the cause of the discomfort was being upright and in the sun. It didn’t have much to do with my pace. Standing, walking, and jogging were all the same. However, if I tried running up-hill my heart-rate would spike, so that was out of the question.

Heading up toward Lake Aloha.

I portioned out the remaining peanuts to provide salt for the coming few hours, and settled in a rhythm of slow jogging on the flats and downhill.

At 6:10pm I got back into my car. For the last two hours, I had been trying to figure out what I could eat that wouldn’t make me sick. I was extremely happy when I opened the trunk and my eyes fell on my kid’s apple-sauce packages. I squeezed a few of them into my mouth, rested for a few minutes and headed for the beach.

Lake Tahoe sunset.

And that’s where this story ends. Remember to do the math, folks!