Better living through chemistry?

An interesting article in The Post about the consumer's ability to discover one's genetic disposition towards speed and power versus endurance.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/genetic-testing-for-sports-genes-courts-controversy/2011/05/09/AFkTuV6G_story.html?hpid=z2

Thoughts on MMT

I have many thoughts swirling in my head after this weekend’s Massanutten Mountain Trail (MMT) 100.  The thoughts generally center on my performance, thoughts about my peak training phase at the precipice of tapering before the race, thoughts on the performances of a few others and on the race itself.

Firstly, the race itself.  MMT: what can I say?  It's so great, in a it-hurts-so-good sort of way.  It’s competitive, it’s hard, it’s quirky, it’s fun, it’s local (to me), it’s cheap.  It’s everything good you would hope for and expect from a race that you rearrange and prioritize so much of your life to train for and dedicate towards.

Regarding my performance, as I have told a few people in conversation since Saturday, I’m pleased with my finish time; however, I can’t help but feel that I didn’t quite reach a slightly higher level of potential I know I had within myself on race day.  One who finishes MMT under 20 hours doesn’t have much to complain about.  Now that I am officially one of those fortunate people please bear with me as I complain for just a moment and then carry on with some sort of semblance of a race report.  MMT delivered upon to me two blows which, after the halfway point, slowed my leg turnover considerably and I have a feeling reduced my overall time by at least an hour.  The first blow was my own fault and a rookie error.  Bodyglide or Vaseline?  Prepping early Saturday morning before the race start at 4am I chose the latter and later, after running all day in sweat soaked shorts, thanks to the humidity, paid a considerable price in pain in my war against chaffing.  It is hard to imagine a simple choice, Bodyglide or Vaseline?, made several hours earlier, in the comfort of a hotel room in a small valley town by the name of Luray, Virginia as having anything but a minimal impact on an overall race performance, but please trust me when I tell you, it does.  Vaseline, I now firmly believe, breaks down and dissolves away in sweat more easily than Bodyglide.  The second blow happens a lot to runners during mountainous 100 mile races; my quads locked up.  Not much to say about that other than it happened.  For those unacquainted with the inability to walk downhill, much less run, without a jolt of pain firing like a cannon up your legs with the placement of each step and having the jolted pain surrender to the guardsmen at your quads door with nowhere to pass so it gets stored within like some sort of pain library, please trust me here, too, when I say it sucks.  Had I front loaded too many miles immediately prior to tapering?  Were my quads not conditioned enough?  These are two very distinct and opposing questions.  I can’t say that I know the answer at this point but what I can say- the good news is- is that MMT’s quad thrashing will leave me better prepared for the pounding of running down mountains later this summer.

The 4am start at MMT is new this year.  I rather like a 4am 100 mile race start.  To me, a 4am race start in the dark when I am fresh, not only provides a small nudge of motivation to get to bed earlier the day before but increases the likelihood of less night running during the evening of the race which leads to a faster time overall.  MMT’s front field spread out immediately at 4am and I found myself running with Karl Meltzer and David Frazier.  We ran together for the first four miles and then Karl took off through the night over the rocks, not long after Moreland Gap aid station, like the goat that he is.  David and I continued running together, never more than a few moments behind Karl at each aid station, and it wasn’t until Veach Gap aid station, mile 40.7, when I eventually pulled away from David on a climb.  At Habron Gap aid station, mile 53.6, I learned Karl’s lead had accelerated to 11 minutes.  From Habron I mustered the climb to Camp Roosevelt, mile 63.1, unsuccessfully trying to quench my thirst while not over drinking at the same time and having to stop and pee so much.  Reaching Camp Roosevelt I felt comfortably ahead of David but not quite ready to surrender to a best second place finish to Karl.  Jon Allen met up with me as a pacer at Camp Roosevelt and we were back on the trail after only a moment or two of me re-stocking trail rations, thanks to another round of invaluable servicing by my crew, Gaby, my Mom and my sister Joan.  Sadly, I lost more ground to Karl entering the next few aid stations, Gap Creek (mile 68.7), Visitor Center (mile 77.1) and Bird Knob (mile 80.5).  I had lost more than a few steps in my running.  It was easily noticeable and at this point it became clear: catching Karl would not be in the cards for me.  Second place, however, felt firm.  So did a sub 20 hour time.  A sub 19 hour time?  Maybe.  I tried to wake up my quads on downhill sections running into the Picnic Area aid station, mile 86.9, but I figured upon arrival, just after 8pm and though it was still light out, my opportunity for finishing under 19 hours wasn’t going to happen.  Knowing that, the fact that David and any other trailing runners were far enough behind not to pose a true threat for second, and the fact that my quads were trashed I didn’t have much pressure to go hard.  Jeremy Ramsey subbed in as my pacer at the Picnic Area and we cruised it in, in a very slow split time of three hours and 35 minutes or so for covering only 14.8 miles.

A special thanks to my support crew, Gaby, Mom and Joan, who always seem to have such a good time at these events.  Jon and Jeremy run’s with me as pacers were helpful and fun.  We laughed a lot.  I only wish there was more of my quads left for them to work with in terms of making the race more exciting, say by chasing Karl or a faster time or something like that.  Especially Jeremy since I picked him up so late in the race and my quads were worse off than when running with Jon.  I felt like a trainer holding back a thoroughbred.  He was a trooper, though.

To me, Karl’s performance at MMT was certainly strong but he likely could have gone a bit faster.  And maybe he would have had I been able to scare him into doing so.  Sorry, Karl!  Eva Pastalkova’s female course record time of 22:30 and sixth place finish overall benchmarks a new standard at MMT and she will now be forced to run with an even larger bulls-eye on her back at future races.  Congrats to Eva on such a strong performance and for her reported ear-to-ear smiles throughout her run.  David Frazier is on fire.  He finished third in a time of 21:25, and MMT was his first real 100 mile race.  My prediction is that once David truly taps into his own potential the rest of us are screwed.  It is hard to categorize Evan Cestari’s fourth place finish time of 21:32 as anything but a huge success.  There are no mountains to train on in Wisconsin, his current home.  In July Evan and his girlfriend, Rebecca, will move to Morgantown, West Virginia which means his game will likely bump up considerably.  One thing is for sure, West Virginia has mountains.  Morgantown is also close to Virginia which means Evan will be crossing the Virginia border for races, forcing us Virginia runners to further bump up our game as well.  The long and short of this is that the competitiveness of ultrarunners in our area is spiking.  I love it.

In the end, MMT serves as a confidence booster.  Since I managed to sneak away with a sub 20 hour finish time and know I had more energy to go faster, had only my quads allowed, not only will 2011’s MMT serve as another true adventure experience but a lesson in what is possible going forward.  Ultrarunning is mental.  Readers of this blog know this as fact.  Like most things, a large part of the mental focus necessary to achieve ones goals in ultrarunning comes from confidence.  Confidence in oneself, and everything that goes with it.  Confidence is the biggest producer.  The top sales guy in the company you work for.  The guy who gets it done in the 11^th hour.  Confidence is the resource you fall back on when you’re out on the trail all on your own, 75+ miles into a mountain race in a land that is far away from home, distinctly unlike your normal surroundings and looks nothing like your backyard.  In the wake of MMT my confidence meter has shifted.  I am now even more excited for the next race: Old Dominion on June 4^th.  Speaking of which, I am privy to very exciting news concerning the potential competitiveness of the field taking shape at Old Dominion.  More on this coming SOON in another post.

MMT

The guy below in green...  He looks human.  I don't know...  I have my reservations.  Guess we'll see on Saturday.  Cheers to everyone toeing the line!  See you soon.

Halloween colors.  2009 MMT post-race.

Correlating

This weekend’s end marks the completion of any developmental race-type training prep for the first half of this year.  Friday night’s 25+ technical mountain miles of long climb tempo repeats (3 x 4.25 miles w/ 2,750 ft elevation gain) followed by Saturday’s 35 miles and 9,000 feet of climbing pretty much sealed the envelope on a voluminous week of running 110 miles.  The next two weeks will consist of tapering and hopefully getting slightly more rest than usual.  Late June will officially usher in summer and with it another ramp-up phase in training, this time designed with the Leadville Trail 100 in August in mind.  Until then I will absorb and enjoy the taper-race-recovery, taper-race-recovery cycles preceding and following Massanutten and Old Dominion.

When it comes to running in general mostly I am a self-conscious type which I suppose in a way more or less motivates me to work under the agency of some sort of measurable improvement program.  To improve, as I see it, work, work and more work is the cornerstone of such a program.  I’ve worked hard to get to the point where I am now in running- because I work hard to allow myself the luxury to run the way I want- and it is pleasing to recognize that, this year, I haven’t skimped in said training one iota.  In fact, I’ve run every single day since before the New Year.  Each day’s run has been a reaffirmation to improvement, to honing the body and mind as best as possible given my age, genetic disposition, geographic location, etc.  With the exception of working through my teen and college years, saving as much money possible to fund college, at no other time in life have I deliberately given so much to one individual pursuit outside of daily priorities (family, work, education…) and, to me, therein lies poetry.

Even prior to my teen years, as a small child as far back as I can remember, I often worked with my older brothers cutting, splitting, hauling and stacking firewood from fallen or dead trees in the forest behind our home in Richmond, Virginia.  We worked together during the warm months, gathering firewood, to prepare for the cold months when the giant wood stove in our basement, the “Papa Bear”, would burn and keep our family warm.  As an aside, my siblings and I share fond memories of returning to the basement after many hours sledding in the backyard with neighborhood friends and tossing our wet snow gear around the Papa Bear.  A gobbling of lunch, a mug of hot chocolate and, perhaps, a game of Monopoly and it was soon time again for more sledding.  Thanks to the Papa Bear our snow gear was always returned warm and dry, perfect for heading back out into the cold.  Each year growing up and into my adulthood I continued gathering firewood, sometimes working with my brothers, sometimes working alone.  Not a single winter passed when the Papa Bear failed to keep us warm.  And to this day in my parents’ home, the home of my youth, thanks to the efforts of my eldest brother, the Papa Bear still burns each winter.

The early formative years of my youth is when I learned the true value of hard, physical work and, also, to enjoy it.  Currently, though my [career] work requires mostly gabbing on the phone, sitting behind a desk or a windshield I often return to my hard, physical laboring roots to prepare, build and create.  I love it; I will always love it.  Such work produces lasting satisfaction and a certain tiredness that feels warm and genuinely deserved.

So far, this year’s training has helped me to realize something poignant- I am still the same person who, as a child, helped his older brothers gather firewood for the Papa Bear.  Only now, the majority of my physical laboring hours are more focused on trail and mountain running and fitness is what I stack for the greater good of future use.  This is how I see my current state of training preparation and how it is a natural byproduct of my upbringing.  What I do now, by which I mean to say how I choose to spend my time, is very similar to time spent as a youth: working and preparing.  This is a comforting, proud feeling.  One of which, of course, I will work to preserve.

Buck Hallow

This past week started off with a bang in Boston as I watched Gaby cruise to a PR finish on tired legs, a bum IT and nine days out from a 3^rd place performance at the Bull Run Run 50.  Gaby’s realistic goal was to reel in a sub 3:30 and damn if she didn’t cross the line in 3:29:55.  Cheers to her for hanging tough the last few miles after her IT had given out and energy spoils were all but depleted.  And, again, thanks to the good people at JetBlue, our generous and courteous travel, accommodations and race registration benefactors for the long weekend, per Gaby’s fortunate winning of the JetBlue Boston Marathon Extra Mile contest.  For me, as a spectator of the Boston Marathon for the second year in a row, it is easy to see why the race enjoys such an illustrious reputation.  The energy and the atmosphere throughout the city for the duration of the event is nothing short of electric.  Plus, any opportunity to visit New England, particularly in the warmer months, is an opportunity worth taking.

The beginning of this past week also signaled the four week countdown to Massanutten, which meant I only had two weeks of real training left, followed by a two week taper.  So, on Monday, the mile piling continued.  Also intermixed in the week I included a little fast stuff.  Some hill stuff.  Three two-a-days.  Three days over 20 miles.   And, finally, culminated the week this morning, with- I am somewhat embarrassed to admit- 143 miles in total.

Aside from running 143 miles (which is a significant marker for me and more than I have ever run before in a week or would like to continue running on a weekly basis) and spectating Gaby at the Boston Marathon, two other memorable running events stick out from the week.

1.       The first annual WUS Donut 10k (more like 6.9 miles).  Martha organized a real treat for WUS runners on Thursday night with a hilly, out and back dash to DuPont Circle, on a dog legged shaped course, from WUS HQ whereby runners must stop midway, scarf down six Krispy Kreme glazed donuts, then turn around and run back.  Not only did I consume eight donuts midway in a grossly fast time but also then cruised to race victory where upon I enjoyed a final victory donut, bringing the total to nine.  Admittedly, competition at the Donut Run was a little light.  Not many of the real eaters, fast WUS runners or fast runners who can really eat were in attendance.   Hopefully they’ll show up Thursday for the Beer mile, which, again, Martha is hosting.  My status as first place finisher at the Donut Run, says Martha, elevates my seeding to #1 at the Beer Mile.  A few dozen runners are poised to show up so Thursday may or may not be a two-a-day for me.  Meaning, I’m brining my game, WUS peeps.  That is all I have to say about that.

2.       36 miles, three back-to-back 2,750 foot tempo climbs straight up a very soppy, technical Buck Hallow Trail to Mary’s Rock and 9,000 feet of climbing in total added another solid long run to the bank yesterday morning.  Another run like this next weekend and it’ll be all she wrote for training runs until sometime after Old Dominion on June 4.

Speaking of Old Dominion, I was told first hand by another runner (a definite contender) that he is registering for the race.  I truly hope so.  It could be that this year the field at Old Dominion will be the most competitive it has been in years.  This is exciting news.  Unfortunately we’ll never know who all is running until the night of since the Old Dominion race director doesn’t post an entrants list.

And, finally, speaking of Buck Hallow, the title subject of this post, this is a very special place.  No matter how many times I’ve managed to leave my DC house on a Saturday morning in pre-dawn darkness and rain, heading west bound for the Shenandoah National Park (SNP) and the Buck Hallow trailhead at the base of Thorton Gap along the south side of Route 211, I am always in awe once I arrive to discover a ceasing rain and an opening sky.  I find it hard to ignore this kind of fortune and am very grateful for it.  The trails themselves here in this particular section of the SNP, however, are not for the faint of heart.  They are steep, at times very technical and cross in many directions the deeper into the forest one goes.  A map is a must.  A few water bottles and proper food supplies are a must.  Sure, you can keep a run short with an out and back or a loop up to the Appalachian Trail and back, but then you miss out on the real treasure this area has to offer for trail running.  This treasure includes bursting streams and waterfalls tumbling down the hallows, with water suitable for drinking at high elevations (in my opinion), well maintained and debris-free trails, 3,000 foot climbing or descending options, access to the Appalachian Trail and, best of all, unspoiled and wild mountain-scape vistas with no visible human built obstructions.  I have run 30+ milers at Buck Hallow on several occasions and each time barely scratch the surface in terms of covering available (and realistic distance) terrain options (from my car).  In fact, to this day, there are so many miles of trails I have yet to experience because they finger off in so many directions and seemingly go on forever.  Another treasure at Buck Hallow is the Thorton River.  This crystal clear, spring fed river, which crashes down the mountain gap, often paralleling 211, flows right by the car lot and offers an excellent ice bath after a long day on the trails.  If you live in central, northern or western Virginia, or are a visitor to the area, and have yet to visit Buck Hallow I strongly encourage you to do so.  Buck Hallow, without a doubt, has made me a better runner and after each time I visit I depart with even greater appreciation for the SNP and the mountains in Virginia.  I am confident it will do the same for you.

The Matt Woods show

Saturday morning's Bull Run Run 6:30am race start came and went in a hurry.  So did Matt Woods.  Matt pulled away so fast at the start all I could do was admire his effortless stride for only a few moments until he was gone into the woods.  David Frazier and another runner [with a beard] immediately gave chase and I began running in earnest with fellow WUSsie, Aaron Schwartzbard.  Aaron and I ran the first few miles together and carried on a bit about various trivial things until he slowly dropped back and I found myself running alone.  At this point it was mile five or six into the day's task, running 50 miles in the woods, I was in fourth position and was in mood to push hard in an attempt to catch the lead pack or put distance on Aaron and the others not far behind.

It was also on this section of the course when the nastiness began, and by 'nastiness' I mean mud.  The previous few days of rain saturated the lower lying valley trails.  Roots, rocks, logs, etc. I don't mind.  What I do mind, however, is mud.  The first section of Bull Run is an out and back with a turnaround at mile 9.4, aptly named "Turnaround".  Not long before reaching the turnaround I see the front runners coming back towards me and timed David, running in third, with a 6:15 gap on me.  David was moving along sprightly seconds behind Matt and the other runner and I was more or less surprised to see how efficiently each of them negotiated the mud.  Shortly after the turn around- here is why I don't like running in mud- I managed a serious f*k up and superman slid on to the muddy trail, muttering "ssoooonnn offf aaaahh biiitttccchhh" as I slid on my chest and belly across the soupy spring soil.  Several runners coming towards me in line for the turn around witnessed the entire act.  Hopefully it provided a good lesson in proper foot strike management for them, in addition to comic relief.  For 10 years growing up I was a baseball player.  Every spring and summer that is what I did- I played baseball.  I can tell you with 100% certainty that I never pulled off a more perfect slide in all my years stealing bases or attempting to maneuver around catchers going for home plate.   My slide eventually came to a halt and I rose in shock gazing at the mud pie I had just made of myself.  I then started running again.  Not much else I could do.

Covered in a slowly drying mud cake-like shell, I ran back in the direction I had just come, eventually completing the out-and-back section as I passed through the start area, Hemlock - mile 16.6.  From there on I continued running alone, occasionally catching glimpses of Jack Pilla and Adam Hill in the distance cresting over or running down a bluff from whence I had run only moments earlier.  Somewhere around mile 20 I passed a runner (whose name I still do not know) and found myself in third position.  I figured holding pace with Matt Woods over the preceding miles likely did him in but wasn't ready to count him out so I kept my head down and pressed forward up and down the hills.

At Fountainhead aid station, mile 28.1, I was 5 minutes behind second place, which I figured was David.  The Gu gels and Cliff blocks I ate throughout the race tasted good and everything else felt pretty good so, again, I kept my head down and pressed forward.  Shortly before I entered the Do Loop Matt was on his way out, breezed by me and said "that sucked".  "That" being the notorious "Do Loop" section of the Bull Run Run course, of course.  "Great", I thought.  Not more than 10 seconds later I looked up and saw David 150 yards up the trail.  I sensed he was gathering his energy a bit before pressing on through the Do Loop.  I entered the Do Loop aid station, mile 32.5, as David exited then caught back up with him moments later.

It was at this point that David and I set about running together for the remainder of the race.  I stayed on his heals through the Do Loop, which consisted mostly of narrow, poorly navigable trails and steep gullies.  Upon exiting the Do Loop I responded in kind to David, taking the reins at the front and from then on we continued pushing each other up and down the hills and back along the muddy trails paralleling the Occoquan river.  We were intent in our shared purpose: thwarting Jack and Adam's surging attacks at our second and third positions.  It was still possible to see them from time to time on distant bluff trails, trailing hungrily for position.

The remaining miles of Bull Run went by quickly and like all good things the end eventually came.  David and I climbed the final ascent back to Hemlock, and ran side by side for the remaining half mile.  Was a jockeying for second about to ensue?  I wasn't sure.  The pace naturally picked up until the finish line was in sight.  As the revelers cheered us on I looked at David and asked "should we give them a show?"  As he opened his mouth and before he could complete his first syllable which began with an "Eeehhhhh..." a wide open, quad bursting sprint broke out between us with 100 yards to go.  My heart beat shot up and I felt the heat pulse through my chest, arms and legs like an electric current.  I was a foot or two in front of David but he caught up to my immediate right within seconds.  The finish line was so close.  Bull Run Race Director, Anstr Davidson, was standing directly on the finish line about to get run over as the two of us steam rolled directly towards him.  With a final kick of adrenaline and another wave of surging body heat I stepped on the gas with whatever I had left and crossed the finish line with David immediately to my right.  I collapsed onto the ground seconds after crossing the finish line, actually somewhat sad the race was over, but definitely glad not to be sprinting any longer.  Did I actually finish ahead of David and come in second place?  I'm not sure.  I don't think so.  We tied.  The good news is David is running Massanutten next month so we'll have another opportunity to run with and against one another.  (Other Massanutten runners take note: David will be a contender.)  I hope to God not to replicate a finish like that, with David or anyone else, after 100 miles running through the Massanuttens.

David Frazier and I, stride for stride, sprinting to the finish.  Look close.  He is immediately to my right.  Photo by Robert Fabia.

Long before I finished the Matt Woods show was over and I learned that a new course record belonged to him in a time of 6:08.  Pretty amazing, I think, considering the muddy conditions over so many miles.  Gaby finished as 3rd female in 8:06, which is also a stellar accomplishment.  Our buddy and fellow first-place-winning WUS Coed team member, Ragan Petrie, finished as 2nd female in 7:52.  Annette Bednosky won the race with a time of 7:39.  Such impressive times for the top three ladies!

All in all, considering the state of my training and lack of proper tapering for the race I am pleased with the result.  Plus, my body has never felt so good immediately following a 50 miler and that is a healthy sign for a soon-to-begin long summer of 100 mile races.  In the Bull Run Run 50, the VHTRC continues to demonstrate its reputation for quality races and even better post-race parties and socializing.  This race is a classic for several reasons and a must-do for any and all devoted front, mid or back of the back-type ultra runners.


Inspecting what is left of the mud shell, amusing Quatro and David.  Photo by Robert Fabia.

 

Aces!  Matt Woods, a happy WUS.  Photo by Robert Fabia.

 

Me, Gaby and Ragan.  WUS Coed team, sans Keith Knipling.  Photo by Bobby "Cross Fit" Gill.



There's Keith.  Photo by Robert Fabia.



Woodley Ultra Society!

Saturday’s Bull Run Run 50 team event should add even more levity to what will be a great time on local trails in Northern Virginia.  The registered Woodley Ultra Society’s (WUS) teams will have other cohorts scrambling; esteemed [de facto] WUS Prez, Keith Knipling, caused something of an in-group hullabaloo thanks to resourceful last-minute runner allocation aimed at vanquishing all other companies.  Here is the page for all of the registered teams.  Keith, Ragan, Gaby and I represent the coed team front as, you guessed it, “WUS Coed”.  Kerry, Justine, Michele and Zsuzsanna comprise the WUS female squad, creatively titled “WUS Female”.  The male squad, of which there are two, “WUS” and “WUS2” (we need a new name czar), round out the entire WUS ensemble with Aaron, Matt, Mario and Mitchell on one team and Doug, Tom, Art and Joe on the other.  The biggest stand out named above has to be Matt Woods- look for him to cross the finish line first in my estimation.   The other runners named above are all strong and hopefully everyone is excited and ready for a good time and a valiant effort.  Saturday will be my first go at racing Bull Run, much less running over the trails, so I am doubly excited.

The plan for the next few days is to trim down the mileage prior to Saturday and attempt a mini-taper, if that is possible.  I fully expect not to be tapered but do plan to run strong for as long as I am able and to serve “WUS Coed” to the best of my tired legs’ abilities.  Sunday morning’s run, followed by a rather intense yoga session at Down Dog in Georgetown, capped a healthy training week at 112 miles.  On 6am Saturday morning I arrived at Buck Hallow, just west of Sperryville, Virginia off of Route 211 in the Shenandoah National Forrest.  It was dark still so I ran to the top of Route 211 without a flashlight, crested at Skylike Drive, then branched south on to the Appalachian Trail and up to Mary’s Rock to catch the sunrise; it did not disappoint.  This venture also rewarded another prize: not far below the ridgeline two inches of fresh powder laid ready in wait.  From the top of Mary’s Rock I cruised back down along the east side hallow trails practically to the base of Old Rag then up again to the Appalachian Trail, north back to Mary’s Rock, and finally down the technical 3.5 miles or so to Buck Hallow.  30 miles, 5 hours 20 minutes, 7,500 feet or so of climbing and I was back at the car.  Overall, it was another glorious day in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  I maintained a casual and pleasant pace the entire way and enjoyed the scenery as much as possible, which explains why I managed to roll my left ankle for a second time in only three days.  Thankfully it feels much better and doubt it will be much of a concern by this weekend.  Saturday’s last romp in the snow for the winter of 2011 was as equally surprising as this evening’s very warm run in a singlet.  Go figure on the spring weather around here.

Here is a neat little tune aptly named Blue Ridge Mountains, by Fleet Floxes, which –in the video- pictures many a mountain that are distinctly non-Blue Ridge.  But I’ve always enjoyed this little ditty.  And here also is to the many more runs in the Blue Ridge Mountains this spring, summer and fall.  Snow, heat, rain or sunshine, it doesn't matter, I'm looking forward to them all.