Running uphill

The epic trail run. Yeah, it was epic and it was awesome. I've been getting more and more mileage up in the woods the last few weeks. Because it's essential to the three main races this year, since they're all on trails. But not only that, it is a really fantastic way of motivating one self to run when you're pretty bored of the usual routes around the river and the town. It gives the extra dimension of exploration and the surface breaks up the monotone rhythm of pounding pavement. 


On monday I did a 21 K run up my usual ascent up Blåstein and up to a cabin at 400 meters, but I kept going north further into the forest. It has been ages since I went that far and I really can't understand why I haven't been up there for so long. It's pretty rough and technical after 6-7 K's and some evidence of winter is still left it was a great experience to get up to Skimten plateau at 550 meters where I went often as a kid. I had hell of a way back home as I went a different route I wasn't familiar with. It was exciting as it was tiring when I spent some energy just to get my bearings straight. In the end I got back on track and got down very tired and very happy.

I couldn't get up again for 2 hours after this photo. The
worst thing is that the remote is juuust out of my reach.

This time I was supposed to go for 25 Kilometers and thought that I better take an easier route up to the woods, since I usually start to climb up 200 meters the first two K's after getting out the  door and that's a pretty hard warm-up. So I went for a about two K's on flat pavement before I swung up the hill. Even though I started easy, my legs felt heavy and I got winded pretty fast. So much for taking an easier route. 


And it got worse. 


The Mistake of Going Off the Track, example I.
I planned to go up a ski slope, but instead I went up along a gorge. Surprisingly it went well for the first few hills, even with natures trip wire, roots, laid up along the foot paths. But suddenly I veered out off the main path and out to a bedrock trail. It was overflowing with water from some recent snow melt, I assumed, and I also assumed it was a switchback trail so I kept going. But it was getting very western and instead of backtracking I cut off the trail and went straight into the thick shrub. It was a mistake since it was no paths and just dense lichen. I had to walk because I could feel myself reaching the lactose threshold. 


After a lot of cursing I got back to the foot path up the gorge, and my God it was breath taking watching the roaring stream 60 meters straight down.

My legs were too shaky to get to edge and it's
a nice and fatal drop for my iPhone down there.

I realized I packed too little for this run, because I was really lightheaded and my legs were low on energy on this first climb and I had only brought my hand held water bottle and three servings of energy gel. I sucked down one and hoped that would help some. The trails leveled out some and it went pretty well, stopping only at signposts and once to fill up the water bottle at a stream.  

Gamledammen, top of the climb. Unfortunately the sun bathing bikini  models'
agent made sure I couldn't get a wider angled photo.

I eventually got to more familiar territory and got up to the big lodge Tverken where I decided again to not follow the plan - I wanted up to the Skimten Plateau again, even after knowing it had snowed last night. So, after a quick and not at all thorough study of a mapboard, I raced up the really wet and rocky climb. I was hitting snow a lot sooner than the last time.

Some snow

 ..and

more snow, oh, and don't run on those logs, slippery
m***********s..

..and

******

..and of course

"It's May, goddammit!"

But getting over crusty snow isn't the worst, because after a slight climb and I got to the lovely bog plateau. It's fun and challenging to cross a big wet bog, but it was getting really cold and after awhile it kind of got painful to dip your feet in freezing water when you thought you found a solid piece of earth.

It's wet and it's cold. 

Of course I slipped and went knee-deep in.

Eventually I got through the worst and reached Skimtheia, the highest point of the area and a nice place to have a breather and suck down some more gel and water. I remember biking up here as a kid and I could see alot of bicycle tracks through the bogs, I just can't imagine how it has to feel like to crash and nosedive into the cold water. Though I guess the people biking here have a whole more hand-eye coordination than me. 

Skimtvarden. 

Feeling artistic.

The descent down to Eiksætra was slow and wet and cold, and fun of course. For every meter down in elevation I spent like five sideways trying to not run into more cold water. 

splash!

After a while I got down to Eiksætra which is a big tourist cabin near a lake, with several small cabins scattered around. It felt good to run on a big dirt road again, but I was going to make it a lot more difficult for myself, again. 


The Mistake of Going Off the Track, example II.
I had stopped at a mapboard for a few minutes planning my route back south and decided to follow the dirt road west before going south at a stream. Maybe I was tired, but I left the road too soon up a small track and hit south way too early on something that I thought was a stream, but turned out to be snowmelt on trail.

You can't even see the water trickling down.

So I started on a heavy ascent up to the platou again, off any paths and on a southerly bearing. It was pretty brutal and I decided to never to jump off a trail again. When I finally reached the top of the climb I knew I had chewed off a lot more then what I had bargained for. It was just lichen, marshes and lakes - in other words, wet and cold. I had to avoid the lakes and try for the small knolls. I think I spent an hour just crisscrossing this landscape getting more and more frustrated every time I dipped my toes in. It was getting painful every time splashed into the cold water and I was starting to get really tired. After taking my chances with just going southwest to what seemed like ridge I finally broke out into a narrow, but marked path. I went down along a 50 meter deep drop to one side and dense forest on the other. 

You can almost see Drammen there. S**t, just halfway home.

I stopped and took some photos(something I need to stop doing since it really slows me down.) when I realized that the faint cluster of buildings way down there were in fact Drammen. At least I was going in the right direction, but damn, that's far away. I followed the winding path further south until it abruptly ended up in a hellish scree covered in slippery moss. I didn't dare to take a picture of the wild descent.

I finally found my way to familiar terrain and it really was just downhill from there. My legs were pretty beaten and sore after a few hours too many in the cold bogs, so it wasn't a killer pace. I finally broke through the forest on shuffling feet and stopped in a supermarket gulping down some chocolate milk and some chocolate bars before dragging myself into the shower. All in all a great long run and some nice adventures. Lesson to next time, woolen socks is a must.