Jan. 20th to Jan. 26th

Monday, 1/20, Meredith Ranch Rd. out and back

12 miles, 1:28

Ran from school to the end of Meredith Ranch road and back.  This was a nice road to revisit for my last run in Livingston.  I only wish this road didn't run into private property.  If it kept going, and perhaps connected with Willow Creek Road, that would become the best loop in town.

Tuesday, 1/21--Off

Wednesday, 1/22, Story Hills out and back w/Nikki, Michelle, Harper, Veka

7 miles, 1:15

A fairly casual run in not so casual conditions.  Bozeman roads are pretty icy this week, and I'm late on putting screws in my shoes, so I was running gingerly, and thankful for the relaxed pace.  Even so, I took a hard tumble at one point.  It was snowing for the entire duration of the run, which only helped to mask the ice. 

Thursday, 1/23, Mt. Sentinel Loop w/Jimmy and Jed

13.5 miles, 2:04

I ran from my apartment to the Clark Fork, then ran with the Flying J's up Sentinel, down to a forest road, back to the Clark Fork, and back to my apartment.  It's great to finally be in a town with easy access to the mountains, and runners who value open space as much as running itself.  Anywhere not under tree cover was mostly free of snow, but even the snowy sections were packed down enough to run on.  We had quite a bit of gain, maybe 2200' feet or so.

Friday, 1/24, Pattee Creek

13 miles, 1:40

Another run from my apartment, sizing out the area.  I ran up to the Pattee Creek trailhead, slid around on the Nez Perce loop, then ran up to Deer Creek to check out the conditions for future loops, and flipped it back down the canyon.  Both the Deer Creek and Crazy Canyon Rd. loops seem good to go.  Quads were a little sore from yesterday.

Saturday, 1/25, Deer Creek Loop

18.5 miles, 2:20

I got to experience Missoula's inversion weather for the first time.  Just a few hundred feet above town, the sky was clear, but clouds lingered low.  I took Pattee Creek to Deer Creek, and somehow I missed the turnoff to the Kim Williams Trail, so I ended up staying on Deer Creek until I got into some northside neighborhoods.  It was still a really nice loop, except for the mile and a half or so on the frontage road (even then, there was a sidewalk--Missoula is so pedestrian friendly!).  I added on a mile of exploring the golf course trails by my apartment at the end.

Sunday, 1/26, Bitterroot/Jumbo figure eight loop

16 miles, 2:14

Wow, this place is big.  I had a bunch of trail link ups in mind, but actually decided to cut out some trails once I realized I would already get over 15 miles.  The (shortened) route linked up the Bitterroot Branch Trail to the Kim Williams Trail, skirted the side of Mt. Jumbo on the US West Trail, did a short loop in Greenough Park, climbed up to the Sentinel Fire Road, and ran down the hill back to the apartment.  It was nice to get a bit of steep in towards the end, and to catch the linkup to Kim Williams I had missed on Saturday.  It's gonna take awhile to get to know the trail system here.


80 miles, 11:01

Well, I slowed down this week, but I also added a good bit of elevation gain, which is difficult not to do in Missoula.  Even in January, trail access is still better than anywhere else I've been.  And the running community is kind of overwhelming.  I was able to attend a Brooks "Fashion Show" at the Runner's Edge on Wednesday, and was one of the 100+ runners there.  I hadn't seen so many runners at a non-race event before!  Missoula will be good for me.  There are a lot of trails, a lot of runners, and a great ice creamery downtown, which is really everything I need.

Nikki, Michelle & Harper on Story Hills

Montana Trail Crew cruising up by Sentinel

Pattee Canyon Road

Clark Fork

Fearless deer (this picture isn't zoomed in)

The Sentinel Fire Road

Tunes:

Jan. 13th to Jan. 19th

Monday, 1/13, treadmill and weights

12 miles, 1:21 (3 miles in 23 minutes, weights, then tempo run at 9 miles in 58 minutes)

I'm horrible, I know.  It was snowing and windy and dark out, and I chose not to embrace the elements, but to stay warm and run on a conveyor belt like a mouse.  The only way I can stand to run on treadmills is to do tempo runs.  After a three mile warm up, and doing weights for all of five minutes, I set the treadmill at a 1% grade and kept the run at a 6:27 pace throughout, sweating profusely.  This workout increased my confidence for my first race of the year, the Freezer Burn 10 miler in two and a half weeks.  I'm guessing I should get under 1:03, unless road conditions are bad (which they may well be).

Tuesday, 1/14, out and back to Carter's Bridge from school

10 miles, 1:12

Low sevens feel really good right now.  I had to sneak this run in between a meeting that ended at 4:30, and one that started at 6.  Right as I was getting back in town it finally hit dark, so I ran with my headlamp for the last few miles, and then tried my best to look composed (like I hadn't just run 10 miles) for the meeting.  It's going to be so nice to be on a consistent schedule soon.

Wednesday, 1/15, field running

12 miles, 1:34

I ran from town back up the Swingley connector, and followed some dirt tracks in fields below Livingston Peak for a few miles.  I eventually came across private property, but then followed the fence line (and some dirt tracks) until it took me to a nice downhill headed towards Swingley Road.  Really nice outing, but it would have been better if I weren't fenced off.  One can never have too much land to explore.

Thursday, 1/16, intervals

7 miles, 0:57

The track is no longer snow covered!  Two mile warm up, then 1 x 800, 2 x 1 mile, 1 x 800 with 2 minute rests, followed by a two mile cool down.  I'm actually starting to like intervals (a.k.a. dinner rolls).  They have a much more cathartic effect than a long run.

Splits were 2:47, 5:43, 5:44, 2:49.  Warm up and cool downs were ~8:00 minute pace.

Friday, 1/17--Off

Saturday, 1/18, Convict Grade Rd. out and back
 
20 miles, 2:33

Another windy long run, this time with the second half in the headwind.  I suppose it's good for mental callusing, but my mind still doesn't feel callused, and the wind still feels like wind.  Splits were 1:08 for the first ten, 1:25 for the second ten, though the effort felt the same throughout.

Sunday, 1/19, Fleshman Creek Rd. out and back

14 miles, 1:44

Slightly windy, but Fleshman provides a bit of cover.  I ran from my house to save some time for packing.  More even splits this day, 54 and 50.  Also, the dogs that used to bark at me and nip at my heels weren't out today.  Good day.

75 miles, 9:21

A fast week, full of flat, solo running.  Next week I'll aim to run a little slower, but I just felt good this week and had some time constraints during the week that may have caused me to push it a little harder than I should.  I switched to running in Hokas for the second half of the week, and my knee pain went away.  The Hokas might not have had anything to do with it, but they certainly weren't making my knee any worse.  I've been feeling a little sore after running this week, but have felt ready to go come the next morning.  Missoula and a whole new trove of trails and roads are just three days away!

 Windswept snowpack below Livingston Peak

Running through fields out by Swingley

Crazy Mountains in the distance

 

Some tunes (my packing music):

Jan. 6th to Jan. 12th

Monday, 1/6

11 miles, 1:40, Polar Bear Running Club and Fleshman Creek

I went running with the first outing of the Polar Bear Running Club (an informal group of renegade high schoolers) for a very restrained two mile jog, and then added on nine miles at a relaxed pace, running on Fleshman Creek Rd. and back.  It was fairly dark by the time I got back to my car at 5:30, and I wouldn't feel comfortable running past 5:20 again without my headlamp (or until the days get longer).  My right knee has been hurting a little bit, only when it I'm kneeling on it, but is feeling better each day.  It's probably because I ran 31 miles two days ago without adequate preparation.


Tuesday, 1/7

6.5 miles, ~1:00, intervals with Monte

Two mile warm up, then 2x800s with 1:1 rest, 1600 with 4 minutes rest, 1x800, then a two mile cool down.  The track is in horrible condition right now, with a 4 inch snow drift on the north side, which felt like running on a slippery beach.  It turned the track into more of a trail run for sections, and made our times slow, but also made intervals more fun than usual.  Monte finished a few seconds ahead of me on some of the intervals (not something I'm ashamed of--that kid is fast!).

Splits were 2:53, 2:48, 5:53, 2:53


Wednesday, 1/8

13 miles, 1:54, Polar Bear Running Club/Monte, Swingley Rd.

Monte and I ran out with the Polar Bear Running Club at the beginning, but by 3 miles out it was just Monte, Kelsie and I (Kelsie turned around just past 5 miles in).  We ran over to Veteran's Bridge, took a connector trail out to the Livingston Peak road, and took that all the way to Swingley.  It was almost perfect running weather!  The only issue, once again, was dark, and we ducked into the neighborhoods as soon as possible once back in town to avoid traffic, getting back to our cars at around 5:40.


Thursday, 1/9

8.5 miles, 1:26, Suce Creek with Monte, Paulo

Oy, this was a tough one.  The effort we put out was decent--I wouldn't call it relaxed--but we still didn't even meet 10 minute pace.  We ran from Monte's house into the AB Wilderness, then to East River Road and back.  The snow conditions as soon as we got off the main road were really soft, each step sinking a little bit, and there were a few hills between 200 and 400 feet.  Monte's dog Paulo ran with us, and even he was struggling a bit in the snow!  This was my first time back in the AB Wilderness since September, and will likely be my last time until next summer (another FKT attempt on Granite?).  It'll be nice to get to Missoula, where trails will be a good bit more packed down.

Friday, 1/10--Off


Saturday, 1/11

15 miles, 1:54, Antelope Butte Loop

Woah, today was windy!  35 to 50 mph winds, with gusts of 70 to 80 mph.  I ran against the wind for 5.5 miles, at about 9 minute pace, and then with the wind at my back I dropped it to high sixes for the rest of the run.  The effort throughout felt about the same.  Not relaxed, but not pushing.  I think my PR for this loop is 1:41, and that felt like a push.


Sunday, 1/12

17 miles, 2:56, Sourdough out and backs with the Nothing Sacred Running Club and company

This was a chat and run.  There were about ten of us, some joining midway through, others leaving partway through, and we mostly chatted about our favorite subject: running!  Having one last giant group run before I left was the perfect way to say goodbye to some people, and a good way to form some last minute connections with those I hadn't met yet.  Towards the end I was feeling a little fatigued, probably due to accumulated miles throughout the week.  Afterwards, we all ate bacon and sticky buns and elk sausage and fruit salad and eggs and soda!  The perfect runners breakfast!

71 miles, 10:50


I felt the bump in miles this week, and I think I've hit the point where I need to reign it in a bit.  I'll still keep adding miles for awhile, but I don't want to have any more 11 mile bumps.  My knee has been feeling a little sore whenever I kneel on it, so it's something to keep in mind.  Right now, it doesn't effect my running at all, and hasn't been getting any worse even with increased mileage.  Another good week of running under the belt--this next week I expect to be running in the dark a good bit due to a wonky schedule.  I better dig up those headlamps!  Or, god forbid, I might even get on a treadmill.

Running up the Swingley Connector with Kelsie and Monte

Trying to beat the sunset, Livingston Peak Rd.

Snow covered boulders, Suce Creek

Paulo, digging in the snow for unknown dog-logic reasons

My last visit to the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness for some time

Running Divide Creek Rd., Antelope Butte Loop

The Nothing Sacred Running Group and company

More tunes--a band from CA, in Paris:

Keeping the Log

This is part of my New Year's resolution.  I'll keep a journal of my training/races, in the hopes that I might understand how stupid I am if I end up getting injured.  Or how smart I am if I do well in a race.  This will probably make me think about training more (right now my training philosophy is: run a lot of miles, most of them slow, and take a day off at least once a week).  A more thoughtful training should show itself come race time.


Monday, Yellowstone Trail Rd. with Monte

11 miles, 1:23

A moderately fast outing with a loop back on a gated (but possibly public?) dirt road running parallel to 89.  It was great to get out in Paradise Valley again, and to run at a sub 8 minute pace.  The beginning of the run was fairly icy, and microspikes would have been suitable for the first two miles.  Running with other people is the only way I can convince myself that running on ice is a good idea.

Tuesday, off (ice climbing)


Wednesday,  Convict Grade Rd. with Monte

9 miles, 1:03

This was my first time on this road!  I enjoyed looking at the ice formations in the river, and it was nice to put out a good effort on a workout without running alone.  On the way out, we were able to chat, with the wind at our back, but things got a little more serious running against the wind on the way back.  Mile splits went from 6:40s to 7:10s or so, the fastest longish run I've done in a few weeks.  After 3 miles in, we passed the last ranch, and it was just the dirt road rolling beneath Sheep Mountain.  A good start to the year!


Thursday,  Livingston Loop with Monte

9 miles, 1:16

Ran from the high school on my favorite route in town, which was quite muddy/icy/snow covered in the hilly section.  The relaxed pace felt needed after running at 7 minute pace on Wednesday.

Friday--off


Saturday, Fat Ass Run with Big Sky Wind Drinkers/Andy, Missouri Headwaters State Park

31 miles, 5:27

This was a good early test to see how I'd handle longer stuff, since I haven't run anything over 15 miles since October.  It wasn't an entirely smart decision to run this far, but it worked out well, and was good mental training for covering repetitive terrain (which I might do for 24 hours in late March).  The route was 2.5 k out on trail, or road, and then back.  10 times.  Andy and I ran the whole way together, staying at around 10 minute pace from beginning to end.  After 35k, everyone else had left, so it was just us running repeats.  The wind made going out easy, but coming back in pretty cold and slow.  Halfway through the run, the chicken noodle soup at the aid station started freezing, so I just ate cookies.  A lot of cookies.

Sunday--off


60 miles, 9:09

 

Monte on Convict Grade Rd.

 

On the Livingston Loop

The 5k trail out and back in Missouri Headwaters State Park

2014 Runs on My Mind:

Snow Joke Half Marathon, Seeley Lake, February

Pickled Feet 24 Hour Endurance Run, Idaho, late March

Old Gabe 50k, Bozeman, June

*Missoula Marathon, July

*Angel's Staircase 60k, Washington, August

Mystery Ranch 100, Pony, MT, August

*The Rut 50k and Lone Peak Vertical K, Big Sky, September

*Mt. Sentinel Hill Climb, Missoula, October

*Montana Cup, Missoula, October/November

*Starred races are ones I expect to be competitive, especially The Rut and Montana Cup. 



Some good tunes from Australia:

The Canada Itch

The government was shut down, and I found myself racing up by Canada, perhaps in a desperate attempt to flee the country. 

           

I spent the night before the race in Whitefish, Montana, known to some as ‘Canada’s Tijuana’.  It’s where Canadians go for their bachelor parties, and one of the founders of Google has been buying up businesses around there, targeting joints that can easily be converted into a hairy, wild, bearded Canada party, with probably at least two Red Sox worthy beards. 

            

The race started and ended at Polebridge’s Mercantile store, which has really good, fresh 50 cent cookies (and brownies, amazing brownies too).  We were 40 miles from the nearest gas station, and the dirt road heading to Canada seemed more remote than some Boy Scout camping trips.  It reminded me a bit of Red’s Meadow in the Sierra Nevada, a kind of remote outpost in the midst of a National Forest, in a valley surrounded by mountains. 

The Merc--the only reason I made it back to the finish.  Credit: Myke Hermsmeyer

Prior to the start, I was able to use an actual outhouse for the prerace dump, which I believe was key in avoiding digestion issues (I use whatever superstition I can get).  It also somehow made me feel more Canadian, and I began humming Neil Young’s ‘After the Goldrush,’ and wondered what it must be like living in a country with great taste in music (except Bieber—I don’t know what happened with him).   

           

The race director for Le Grizz, Pat Caffrey, was a prolific climber back in the day, and author of the (original?) Climber’s Guide to Montana, published back in the 80s.  He’s shaped like a giant pear holding a rifle.  While I was in Polebridge, that rifle went off at least three times (once for a test shot, once to start the race, and once to get the attention of a crowd).  The prerace briefing was informal, done five minutes prior to the start—he urged us to resist the temptation to escape to a country with a functioning government, and to not get eaten by a bear.  He also mentioned that we’d be running on Canadian soil, because they had dug a ditch by the border recently and some of the dirt had blown over to America.  Aid stations, course cutoff times, all the usual was left out.  If we didn’t already know where the aid stations were, we’d find out when we came to them. 

Races always go smoothly when the race director has a rifle.  Credit: Myke Hermsmeyer

By the time the shot went off, I was cold, so I went out like a man—way too fast!  I was a fugitive, gaining distance on a pack of pursuers as I high-tailed it towards Canada, maybe to Waterton. 

            

I may have passed an aid station without knowing, but it turns out the first manned aid station was nearly 20 miles in.  This didn’t matter much, however, since my friend Myke was crewing me in a car (thank you!).  A car, by the way, is the best pacer ever—they can drive back and forth, give splits, take pictures, and hold enough gel products to bathe in.

High-tailing it to Canada.  Credit: Myke Hermsmeyer

The course was 50 miles, flat-ish and non-technical. I found myself going at a strong pace all the way to the Canadian border at mile 28, but once the course dipped back south I started to slow (ugh, America … ).  I had seen the land with a functioning government, and, despite my competitive drive, must have felt reluctant to turn around.  So I dipped from 1^st place to 6^th, because government.  I don’t blame Canada.

A beautiful course!  Credit: Myke Hermsmeyer

Caught by the steam train behind me. Credit: Myke Hermsmeyer

Eventual winner Andy Prevost taking the lead at the border.  Credit: Myke Hermsmeyer

Slipping in under seven hours. Credit: Myke Hermsmeyer

  

Le Grizz Gazzette, which has the full results, can be found here

Some thoughts:

Though this was a flatter course than the original, it’s unclear whether it’s easier.  Eight people went under seven hours (there’s never been more than four prior), but, though there were two people who had gone under 6:05 last year, neither went under 6:20 on this course.

Montana award ceremonies are cool.  For the most part, there’s no award inflation (like having the overall winner taken out of age division awards, having small age divisions, etc.), and the awards are few.  Some races, like Devil’s Backbone, have no award ceremony but a post-race breakfast instead, to share stories and travails of the race.  Awards are nice, but it’s great to see a culture that doesn’t give out awards easily, and recognizes that the experience is the prize.  Le Grizz only gives awards to the overall winner of men’s and women’s open, master’s and senior’s divisions (20-39, 40-49, and 50+).  This race also recognizes wit, with this year’s “Government Shutdown” award going to the best remark about the whole mess.  The winning quip was, “If a tree falls in a forest, and a politician hears it, he will blame someone”. 

Flat races are difficult, and hills are my friends.  Why?  Because a 100% runnable 50 miles is tiring, and switching to power hike mode gives a mental and physical break.  It’s why so many Americans are addicted to TV.  Commercial breaks give our attention a chance to recharge and become fully invested in Daryl Dixon’s crossbow skills, or Walter White’s transformation into horribly awesome.  Flat races are not for the attention deficit.

I may have had a better finish if I'd stuck with the pack of five behind me.  By twenty miles in, I was several minutes ahead (and by 30 miles in, several minutes behind), which should have been a warning sign that I was taking it too fast.  Still, dealing with the mental pressure of leading a race was valuable.  Leading is scary, and I look forward to not doing it again anytime soon.  

Canada … I should have gone to Canada, I should have gone to Canada. 

The Tough Nutter

         Nine miles into the race, for a hopeful minute, I thought I had gotten off course.  Surely, I would come across someone soon who would tell me I’m running the wrong way.  Surely, I would act upset but be secretly thankful that I now had reason to drop out.  But sure enough, that damn yellow flag showed up and let me know I was still on course.  I kept thinking to myself that it wouldn’t be too bad to get lost, or to get hurt, or to have terrible stomach issues, because then I would have a good reason not to keep running this ridiculous course.  But, unfortunately, I had a good day.

                The Rut 50k doesn’t feel like a 50k.  It feels closer to 50 miles.  In terms of time, it is.  This year’s winning time of 5:13 was just 21 minutes faster than the record for the 50 mile Le Grizz, outside of Kalispell.  I’ve done the Ridge Run, done Devil’s Backbone, done the Bighorn 100—while some of these may take longer to finish, only The Rut has sections that took some serious internal motivation to get through.  It may be the only race where I’ve actually thought to myself “What the hell are you doing?  You’re being a bad ass, that’s what”.  If none of those other races seem challenging enough (because you’re nuts), then The Rut is a fitting race.  It’s tough, it’s nuts, it’s a damn Tough Nutter (like a Tough Mudder, except the only obstacle is trying to stay sane, and it's more like you're running through the mountains away from a hungry pack of wolves--except the wolves are a fast group of Missoulians). 

                The toughest section of the course comes between miles 17.5 and 22, where you might want a free hand to clamber with.  The ascent, at 2,000 feet of climb in less than a mile and half, averages out at a 27% grade.  That’s nearly twice as steep as most treadmills will go.  Add in loose and slick rocks, add in the altitude, add in circumspect weather and the fatigue of 17.5 already steep miles (in the Ridge Run, you’d be nearly finished), and you begin to get an idea of this section.  After that section, you finally get to the difficult stuff.

                Lone Mountain is essentially a giant pile of loose rock.  Under those rocks are more loose rocks, and more loose rocks lurking beneath those.  It’s like a giant pile of sand, where each grain is dinner plate sized and weighs 20 pounds.  For three miles after the summit, this chossy pile of death is your reality.  Nothing can convince you that the world is a solid place and not falling apart beneath your feet.  There is no trail to follow, only flags (unless the mountain goats eat them).  I was able to tell my distance from other runners not by sight, but by occasional sounds of rocks sliding and tumbling.  There was not running in this section so much as hurriedly trying-not-to-eat-it-and-sliding-shuffling-tumbling my way down the mountain.  I came away with a bent toenail and consider myself lucky.       

                After this, you’re out of the alpine for the rest of the race, and the trails and roads have more secure footing.  The steepest part, however, is just ahead.  It’s funny how all the most difficult parts are in the second half of the race.  One would think it’s a bit sadistic.  I imagine it’s only to make the playing field more interesting, but I think only the spectators would find slopes steep and muddy enough to slide down like some kind of not fun waterslide interesting.  Going up Andesite, runners are directed to a trail that’s designed only for experienced downhill mountain bikers—who take a lift up, who wear pounds of pads, and who somehow don’t die going off ramps in the middle of a thick forest.  Running up this isn’t dangerous at all; it’s just steeper than the rising cost of tuition.  Never mind that you can hear the crowds at the finish line right before going up the hill with portal warped gravity from Jupiter.  It’s there, staring you in the face three feet away, because it’s that steep.

                From the final aid station on Andesite, it’s downhill, mostly.  There’s a series of very gradual switchbacks, heading to and then away from Big Sky.  At each turn away, I felt in danger of becoming slightly more discouraged and slowing down until speeding up again on the turn back to town.  This psychological interval workout went on for about 15 minutes, and somehow no one passed me in this section.  After all these mental games, I finished.  And there was no free soda.  So instead, after having to make a detour to my car for my ID, I had free beer.  She said my age listing on the finisher list wouldn’t count, but I bet if I could grow a beard that would count.

                Afterwards, some people said ‘never again,’ that doing The Rut once was good enough.  It would be interesting to see the retention rates of different races, and I imagine down the years The Rut will have a very select crowd of loyal followers.  I do not hope to be one of them, but I do hope to come back.  I missed my goal time of under six hours by 127 seconds, so there’s a bit of an incentive.  Besides this, there’s definitely some allure in the challenge.  For the first time, I actually felt challenged on a course—I genuinely felt proud for each person who crossed the finish line because I know everyone there had to really try to finish.  No other race has done that to me, because no other has been so tough, or so nuts.  This was my first Tough Nutter.

Going up Lone Peak on race day

I'm a Fan uh Bananuh

This is the story of a Banana Saver.

It is yellow, shaped like a banana, and has a small, royal blue, non load-bearing--just banana-bearing—carabiner.  It encloses your Cavendish in banana-shaped hollow plastic, making it easy to take climbing, caving, rafting, backpacking and have a banana always at your disposal; adventure with the enjoyment of potassium, and the ability to become anyone’s friend, muse, lover, soulmate, when shared with Nutella. 

A Banana Saver, I learned, is a key to success, and saves far more than just a banana.  Reputation in jeopardy?  Quell your ill repute by pulling out a fresh banana, or two if you invested wisely, three days into a backpacking trip.  Others will see your wisdom, prudence, foresight and odd attractiveness.  Nothing is classier than an unmushed banana in the backcountry.  

In Thailand, there is a benevolent ghost called Nang Tani that haunts banana trees, and I know why.  She wants all the bananas for herself; so did I.

Suddenly, I found myself eating bananas everywhere.  I could eat the soft, sweet, leathery-suited fruit on top of a tower in Sedona, wind whipped and thrilled with the view, but more so with the saving of a banana.  Cramps became a thing of the past, and I began to coordinate my climbing outfits to match the sprightly bit of yellow hanging off my harness, wearing banana colored t-shirts.  It would have been preferable to have one banana shirt covered in dark splotches to match the overripe bananas, but one can only get so much in life.  Eating bananas, or Musa acuminata, in the most extreme of places became my recreational sport of choice.

On the day Ethan and I mooned a crowd of tourists from halfway up a cliff in Sedona, I found that, if situated in the front of my harness, my Banana Saver became suspiciously awesome.  Waiting for the climbers ahead of us to stop shit-showing their way up the sandstone, we spotted their camera lying on a backpack and took the time to get a quality picture of my Banana Saver hanging off my belay loop, between my legs.  If the climbers had already seen that terrifying picture, they said nothing of it when we met them back at the parking lot.

The downfall of the Banana Saver came one day when, grabbing the last banana of a bunch, I discovered it had far too much angularity to fit in the molded casing.  This banana was like a boomerang.  Thinking back on the occasion, I should have checked to see if it was genetically modified.  It must have been.  Months of Banana Saving had gone without a hitch, but, here, here was a banana that could not be saved.  It had to be eaten in a less than stellar location.

Nothing can insure a banana’s full potential like the Saver.  It can bring them far away from the fruit bowl, up into the reaches where many bananas have never been.  How many others have eaten a banana on a glacier, or at the bottom of the Grand Canyon; in the darkness of a limestone cave, or at the top of some granite peak?  Before reaching their raison d’etre, all those bananas were unpeeled into a place unlike the aisles, the kitchens, the farms, the city streets that all other bananas know.  I bet they thought they must be in heaven, that they had been saved.

Banana Saver and I on top of Mt. Wrightson