The trails were busy on Christmas, and that’s a good thing

I wasn’t alone on the trails on Christmas Day. This cyclist, a hiker in the background, and scores of others were there, too.

This has been a strange holiday season for me, mostly because I worked through both Christmas and New Year’s. It’s hard to get the holiday spirit when it’s just another workday.

But I did have time on Christmas Day to get on the trails. The weather was sunny and mild, and I had time to kill before my shift started. I figured most people would be at home with relatives, soaking in the holiday largesse, and maybe watching “Elf” or something.

I’d have the trails to myself!

Uh, wrong. I showed up to a mostly full overflow parking lot. People on mountain bikes, couples walking dogs, parents herding children… you get the idea. I’d be sharing the trails that day in a big way.

I dig the solitude of trail running. It’s a stark contrast to my city routes, where I’m dodging people, looking out for cars and otherwise surrounded by all the sights and sounds of a busy urban center. Don’t get me wrong, I like my city runs. But trail runs have their place, too. So, I might have been somewhat put off that my trail miles would have to be shared.

But as I thought about it, I changed my mind. As it turns out, the trail system I visited was working exactly as planned. And that’s a good thing.

When I moved to Tulsa in 2011, I’d heard a little about Turkey Mountain, but didn’t know much about it. I spent the next couple of years exploring its trails, and in terms of health, fitness, friendships and quality of life, I can say that the Turkey Mountain Urban Wilderness changed my life for the better. I’ve been advocating on its behalf for more than five years now.

Why it’s so important to my city has a lot to do with where Tulsa is, the health problems the community has, and the opportunity these trails provide. It’s a sorely needed venue for folks to get active. Oklahoma is smack in the middle of America’s Stroke Alley, so you understand the importance of things that help combat the increasingly sedentary nature of the society we live in.

When you think about it, the folks that set aside this land as a wild space decades ago were visionary. They saw the possibilities of what such a landscape could provide the city, other than being a tract for commercial or residential development. There is plenty of that to go around, but not much in the way of a true natural woodlands that people in the city could enjoy.

What’s encouraging is that many communities across the country are seeing the wisdom in setting aside land for human-powered recreation. I’ve seen it in the Denver metro area, and in a big state park south of Nashville. And so many more places. We need it, and folks are recognizing that fact – and acting on it.

So, what the heck. I didn’t get that solitary trail experience, but I got my run, nonetheless. And a bunch of people were out there with me, enjoying the woods, and getting some fresh air outside. I’ll call it a win.

Bob Doucette

Mountain reads: ‘Running Home,’ by Katie Arnold

I’ll admit to being a sucker for New Mexico landscapes. So when I started turning the pages in Katie Arnold’s memoir “Running Home,” I got treated to big dose of it. And then there was this zinger about running:

“People think long-distance running is about speed, about getting from point A to point B as fast as possible, but really it’s about slowing down. In the quiet of prolonged effort, time stretches, elongates. I look around at the hot blue sky, summer settling down on northern New Mexico, and feel my legs moving automatically and do what comes naturally. I run.”

And that’s all it took. I was hooked.

Much of Arnold’s book is about running, and it skillfully loops her earliest running experience back to a more recent memory, tying together a lifetime of experiences involving family, running, and how people evolve.

Like any good memoir, Arnold allows for vulnerability, admitting doubts and fears. And she’s transparent about her family history, which is at once heartbreaking but also common to the experiences of many in her generation: growing up like most families, then seeing things change, balancing jolting new realities while not totally understanding why things turned out as they did.

In the midst of this is her account of a fascinating but complicated father who, during a battle with cancer, must go through the pains of reconciling his own decisions and how they affected his children.

And woven into this is the mechanism that serves as Arnold’s tool to work out her past – mostly questions about her family – and her present, becoming a writer, a wife, and a mother. For her, it’s running, and she’s accomplished more there than most could in a lifetime.

Arnold has been a podium finisher at several ultramarathon trail races, including the grueling Leadville 100 trail race in Colorado where, in 2018, she was the women’s champion. The outdoors has long been an integral part of her life, but it’s in trail running that she found the medium in which to work out her biggest challenges. In between the description of her non-running life are accounts of casual mountain runs, the labors of training, and all the joy, doubt, pain and elation that comes with races, many of which are set in the mountains in and around her New Mexico home.

Arnold paces the story well, not rushing through anything, but providing the right amount of punch to give you a sense of the magnitude of what she’s describing. It’s a common theme among trail runners – using the sport to stay at even keel. But it’s uncommon to see it told so naturally. Nothing is overstated or melodramatic: Life events are told as they are. Her prose ranges from essay to conversational, and that’s not an easy mix for most writers, but Arnold pulls it off.

There are plenty of running memoirs out there, and they all have their merits. As an athlete, Arnold is a person who has accomplished a great deal. But in reading her story, she feels like one of us.

Bob Doucette

Personal safety on the trail: What to know, what to do, and how to carry yourself

Looking down the trail on Cupid Peak. Front Range, Colorado. Everyone should be able to enjoy trails like this, or the streets where they run, without fear of being harassed — or worse. Even so, there are things you can do to keep yourself safe.

NOTE: This is an adaptation of a piece I wrote for the Tulsa Urban Wilderness Coalition a few weeks ago. While it bothers me that we must discuss these topics, it is also a reality. And for further reading, take a look at this article via Runner’s World.

One of the last things we want to think about on the trail is what we’d do if confronted with an unwelcome or hostile person. You’re out there for a run, a ride or a hike, looking for exercise or a retreat away from daily life. A confrontation is not on the agenda.

But the fact is this: The world has a lot of good people in it, but there are some bad ones, too. And sometimes they make their way to our trails.

How do you deal with a situation like this? Here are some ideas:

Keep your car clutter free

The less junk in your car you have to deal with, the quicker you can get on the trails and once done, get home. Most people are at their most vulnerable while fussing with the clutter that can pile up in your car. This is when you drop your guard. A great side effect to a clean car: If there is nothing in the car to steal, thieves tend to move on.

Hit the trail with a friend

The old cliché is that there is safety in numbers. But it’s also true. A person with bad intentions is much less likely to bother a group of people.

When you’re solo, be situationally aware

We love to lose ourselves in the moment when we’re in nature, but it’s wise to keep your eyes and ears open. Be aware of other people. That way you don’t get surprised.

Ditch the earbuds

Music and podcasts are great on a long ride or run, but the problem with that is you take one of your senses out of the picture. This is especially important on the trail, where you might not hear a bike coming behind you, or people around the bend. Earbuds even at a low volume put you at risk for an accidental collision with other trail users, and certainly leaves you more vulnerable to people with unsavory motives.

Be purposeful in your movement

You’ve got places to be, goals to achieve, a pace to keep. Show that. People are less likely to bother someone who is moving down the trail with a sense of purpose and confidence.

Bring your dog

If you have a dog that likes to run or hike trail with you, bring it along. The presence of a dog can be a good deterrent, especially if it’s a bigger dog.

Tell someone your plans

Before hitting the trail, let someone know where you’re going, your planned route, and how long you expect to be out there. That way there is a person out there who knows something could be wrong if you don’t check in.

Trust your instincts, and act accordingly

Listen to that prickly feeling on the back of your neck. If there are people on the trail who make you feel uneasy, reroute to an area that is more open or heavily trafficked. Then find your way back to a trailhead parking lot.

Bring your phone

A simple phone call or text could be vital to alerting friends or the authorities if something is amiss. You can use your smartphone camera to document unwanted interactions, which in turn can be used if the incident is one in which law enforcement needs to be called.

Consider personal protection

Plenty of hand-held devices like pepper spray exist that can be easily carried. Be familiar with how to use it and bring it with you.

If faced with a potential assailant, leave the area as quickly as possible

Make noise. Shout, yell for help, etc. If a physical confrontation is unavoidable, fight back. Strike at sensitive areas like the eyes, groin, nose and throat, using your fists, elbows and knees. You might be in the fight for your life, so there are no rules. An attacker will be more likely to give up if a potential victim becomes difficult to handle. Whatever the outcome, alert police as soon as you can, and be ready to give a description of the assailant, what happened and where.

THE FLIP SIDE OF THE COIN

All these ideas can help keep you safe. But it’s only one side of the coin. As a trail user, there are ways you should handle yourself to prevent the perception of being a threat. Some thoughts on that:

Let others do their thing

Remember that other trail users are there for a reason and might not be open to having their run, ride or hike interrupted, even if your intentions are benign.

A simple “hello,” a wave or a nod are good ways to acknowledge other trail users in an unobtrusive way.

If your greeting, wave or nod is not acknowledged, don’t make a thing of it.

Someone on a hard run or ride might be concentrating on the workout. Don’t take it as being disrespectful. Just move on and do your thing. If the person wants to reciprocate a greeting, they will. If they don’t, it’s their choice – and their right. Leave it be.

Be mindful of trail users who are solo

They may be less welcome to talking to people they don’t know on the trail. Give them their space.

And this should go without saying, but here it is: The trail is not a place to pick up dates.

Any amorous advances toward someone you don’t know on the trail very likely to be rejected and may be perceived as threatening. Save your game for more appropriate places; the trail isn’t it.

One last thing, just to wrap things up: There are remarkably few bad interactions and incidents occurring on our trail systems. But because people are involved, there is always the potential for bad actors to show up. Be aware of your surroundings and take the precautions you believe to be appropriate, and be mindful of how you might be perceived by others you meet.

Bob Doucette

Some good and bad on my local trails

Hi Chi Trail, Turkey Mountain Urban Wilderness, Tulsa.

Summer is about kaput, so my attention has been focused on my local trails. There has been some good and some bad news on that front.

The bad news is this: Some people just don’t understand that you can’t arbitrarily cut down trees on public lands because you don’t like where they’ve been growing.

There is a section of trail on Turkey Mountain called Tree Hugger that gets its name from a skinny passage between two maturing trees that have grown by each other right on the side of the trail. In the past, I’ve likened them to the ski gates you see on slalom courses. It’s not a problem for runners or hikers, but if you’re on your bike, it’s a tight fit between the trees. If you’re not confident enough on your bike to slow it down for a more careful passage — or if you’re too prideful to get off your bike and walk it through — Tree Hugger’s namesake feature might seem like a bit of a hassle.

But you can’t blame the trees for growing where their seed landed, and in any trail user etiquette, it’s bad form to remove rocks, cut roots or hack down trees simply to make your journey a little easier. It’s unsporting, and more importantly, extremely bad ecology.

Well, some jackwagon decided to cut down one of the trees.

I’m not sure who took this photo, but it’s not the person who cut the tree. We also don’t know who felled the tree.

My guess is this person came in at night (or some other time when no one would be there) and cut the tree down, simply so bike passage would be easier.

I won’t mince words. This is the kind of person who rides trails when they’re waterlogged, paying no mind to the damage that causes. Probably the type who never goes to a cleanup day, or a trail work day. A rider of limited ability who is all about “freedom” but absent the concept of responsibility that freedom infers.

The tree is gone, and there’s no repairing the damage. So I’ll put this out there…

Only the landowner has the right to use power tools or cut down trees at Turkey Mountain, and that landowner is the River Parks Authority. Anyone else who wishes to do so needs RPA permission. Otherwise, it’s vandalism and punishable as a crime.

RUNNING WITH THE TOTS

On to the good. I took last week off work, but didn’t go anywhere. I stayed home, and got to do a lot of things I don’t normally get to do because I’m at work.

Something I used to do was run trails with a weekly run group on Tuesday nights. They’ve long been known as the TOTS (Training on Turkey). Well, I work nights. So I haven’t been able to run with this crew for years. I finally got that chance this week.

Well, sort of. I got there late, so I missed everyone hitting the trail. I ran my own route, then met up with the gang at the trailhead when it was over. Most of these folks are new to me — it’s been a few years, ya know. So I spent some time introducing myself to people.

This is what some Tulsa trail runners do for fun after a group run: Compete to see who can get the best crushed can. (Kia Shebert-Smith photo)

Back in the day, we all headed to a taco joint when it was over and shot the breeze. That tradition has changed. Now, it’s simpler — sharing beers at the trailhead. When it’s time to go, everyone crushes their cans, and a contest is held. The can that’s most perfectly crushed wins. The prize? Bragging rights, and a mention on a blog managed by a gal who has taken the responsibility for shepherding the run group.

It’s a fun, laid-back group with runners who are faster and more accomplished than me. I’m used to that. As it turns out, a few of these folks have a thing for hiking Colorado’s 14ers, One of those guys is headed to Colorado as I write this to take a stab at some of the giants in the Sawatch Range. Hey, anytime I get to talk mountains with people is a good time.

The group has changed, but some things stay the same. People gather because they love trail running. They dig Turkey Mountain. They enjoy exploring the Rockies. It may be awhile before I get to rejoin these runners again, but it’s good to know that there’s still a chill group of runners having some fun together while getting their miles.

Bob Doucette

An Outside magazine writer called trail runners ‘lazy’ and ‘parasites.’ Is he right?

A work detail putting the finishing touches on trail rebuilding at Turkey Mountain in Tulsa. 

Leave it to Outside magazine to cause a stir in the outdoor community. In a piece posted online Wednesday, writer Marc Peruzzi posited that trail runners aren’t pulling their load when it comes to performing trail work.

The thrust of his op-ed is that trail running is exploding in popularity, with millions of runners hitting the dirt every year. The problem is, he says, is that they’re basically no-shows on organized volunteer work days, at least when it compared to mountain bikers.

I can find a few faults with the piece. He takes a few swipes at trail runners’ gear, deriding their “short shorts” and running vests. I’ll admit, seeing a runner in that ultramarathoner getup, topped with a trucker hat, can be a little funny. But it ain’t any more hilarious than seeing someone in full cycling kit. Eighties hair metal bands wore less spandex. Just sayin’.

He also maximizes the damage cause by runners (widening trails by running around muddy/watery parts of the trail) while glossing over the wear and tear caused by bikes. He’s not wrong about the trail widening problem, one that is primarily caused by runners and hikers. But go to any multi-use trail and you can tell where the cyclists have been by that distinct U-shape from bike usage. It’s not fair to lay all the blame on runners for trail damage and erosion. We’re all part of it.

And he admits his observations are based on anecdotal evidence. It’s hard to make solid conclusions without data, but from what he’s seen and heard, it’s the cyclists and not the runners who show up on work days to repair worn-down trail sections.

I don’t want to dwell on superficially nitpicking at his piece. I’ll move past the snark and at-times inflammatory language to get to the heart of it: Is he right?

As you can imagine, the comments section was overwhelmingly negative. Outside and the writer took a few on the chin. But some of the responses were interesting.

“Trail runners are some of the most environmentally conscious people round.”

“I give to conservation causes.”

“A lot of races give to environmental causes.”

“I volunteer to clean up the course after a race.”

“Don’t care. We just want to be out in nature.”

“I pay taxes, and if the trails are on public lands, it’s not my job.”

And so forth, repeatedly, ad nauseum. Good rebuttals, right? Well, not really. Here’s why.

It’s fine to give to causes. But those groups might not do anything to help maintain your trails. Being environmentally conscious is great, but it doesn’t mean anything to the trails you use unless you go out and put your ideals into action on the trails you use. It’s great to enjoy nature. But you and millions like you have an impact on your trails. Cleaning up a race day mess is not the same as trail work. And pulling the taxpayer card is just weak sauce.

Still, hundreds of commenters’ thoughts don’t create solid data points for or against the author’s premise. And because of a lack of data to which he admits, it’s a premise that cannot be proven. At least not yet.

So the best I can do here is offer my own anecdotal observations. Here’s what I’ve seen:

Here in Tulsa, we have an active group that advocates for trail users, organizes work days and promotes conservation. The group is made up of nearly every trail user you can imagine. We do quarterly cleanup days and quarterly trail work/maintenance days, and all of it is done by volunteers.

We’ve done studies on who uses our trails. Hikers, bikers, runners, birders and equestrians are the main users, and to varying degrees, they show up on the work days.

But here’s the thing: Over the past couple of years, it’s the cyclists who are punching above their weight. Although they make up a relatively small percentage of overall users, they routinely are at least half or more of the volunteers who show up on those work days, usually armed with their own tools and trail-building skills learned from groups like the International Mountain Bicycling Association. IMBA is fantastic at this, and I’ve learned a lot just working beside these folks.

It’s not like the runners don’t show up. Some do. I’m one of them. But we’re usually outnumbered by the cyclists by two-to-one or more.

What we have going on here in Tulsa is just one place. I’m sure there are other places where it’s the trail runners who are pulling the bulk of the load. And you can bet that it’s the hikers who are the biggest contributors to volunteer efforts with the Colorado Fourteeners Initiative’s summer trail work projects in that state’s popular alpine trail network. But the existence of groups like IMBA (and local affiliates, like our own Oklahoma Earthbike Fellowship) means that the cyclists already have systems in place to do the work and teach people how. They even have grant programs. I’m not sure that sort of organization is duplicated in the trail running world, at least not to the extent as it is in the cycling community.

So here’s the deal: Does the Outside article make you mad? Did you furiously type your response in the comments section? Threaten to cancel your subscription? Bemoan the writer’s divisiveness? OK. But now what?

Prove him wrong. Find a local group that does trail work and volunteer. Show up in boots and work gloves and turn a shovel for a few hours. Help make your trails more durable and sustainable. Be there for the trash cleanup days. Sacrifice a weekend training run or race and get behind a wheelbarrow. Put some sweat equity in your trails.

So many things about Outside’s piece are wrong. (Trail runners aren’t into brats and beer? Are you kidding me? Has he seen an aid station at a trail race?) But I wonder if some of the indignation is caused by folks getting dinged for what they don’t do and don’t like being called on it.

Bob Doucette

Some thoughts about a master plan for Turkey Mountain

Turkey Mountain, as seen from the east bank of the Arkansas River.

Turning back to my home front, there is some news. Tulsa’s River Parks Authority held the first of several public input meetings to discuss what people would like to see in a master plan for the Turkey Mountain Urban Wilderness Area, a go-to place for hiking, biking and trail running right in the middle of the city.

The effort also includes an online survey for people to give their views. Between that and the discussions at these meeting, RPA will have an idea of what the public wants to see.

This is a long way from where we were just a few years ago. We had one rich fella tell us that God told him to build an amusement park on the banks of the Arkansas River, and to cut into acreage on Turkey Mountain’s southeastern flanks. That went nowhere, but in 2014, Simon Properties wanted to build an outlet mall on the far west side of Turkey Mountain’s woodlands. That was a closer call, but intense public pressure against the move eventually sent Simon looking for space elsewhere. What followed by a rapid, concerted effort from public and private entities to secure the land and fold it into a unified parcel that now represents a much larger wild green space than what RPA originally managed.

That leads us to the present. It seems from the first meeting, the consensus is to keep Turkey Mountain as wild as possible. At least, that’s what I gathered from reading this story from the Tulsa World.

I figure I have this electronic space for a reason, if nothing else than to spout off on whatever outdoorsy subject suits me at the time. So you can take my opinions how you see fit. But also keep in mind that I’ve been a regular visitor of its trails for the past eight years, have hiked or ran almost all of its trails and invested no small amount of time cleaning up trails, repairing damaged trail sections and generally advocating for Turkey Mountain’s wellbeing. So while these are just my thoughts, they are informed by some depth of experience as a user and stakeholder. So here ya go, my thoughts on what should guide the creation of a Turkey Mountain master plan…

Hi Chi Trail, Turkey Mountain Urban Wilderness, Tulsa.

Generally speaking, Turkey Mountain should be left alone. What makes the park special are not all the bells, whistles and amenities that other  parks have. It is the lack of these man-made add-ons that attract people to its earthen paths. Where else in the middle of the city can you experience woodlands in their natural state? Nowhere, really. Aside from the trails, some trail blazes and four signs tacked up for safety reasons, Turkey Mountain is devoid of artificial enhancement. You are forced to slow down and take it in at its own pace, or at least at a pace powered by you alone. It’s not climate-controlled, there are no handrails, and if you want to see a specific place, you have to walk/run/bike/ride there yourself. That has an appeal to a lot of people, to the tune of 20,000 to 25,000 visitors a month. If you’re looking for a park with swing sets and ball fields, they exist elsewhere, all over the city. Want a cup of coffee in a lodge setting? Go to Gathering Place. Zip lines? I hear Post Oak Lodge is great. None of that stuff, as great as it is, is needed at Turkey Mountain. It’s a unique place that offers something the rest of the parks cannot – mostly unsullied nature.

Most trails at Turkey Mountain, like this one, are in decent shape. Others plagued by erosion need to be rerouted or closed altogether.

Some trails need to be rerouted, and maybe even closed for good. The trail system was created by mountain bikers decades ago, mostly with the idea of what would be fun to ride. Little thought was given to how well these rough-hewn paths would hold up under human usage and weather-induced erosion. All these trails will need to be looked at with an eye toward sustainability, and that will mean altering their path so they don’t wash out. If that’s not possible, some might have to be closed off for good. I know that might chap some folks, but we want these trails to hold up without washing out a chunk of a hillside. That almost happened on the steep portion going up the Yellow Trail. It’s been mitigated for now, but that and other problem areas remain. Expert trail management will need to be consulted here.

Wintry sunset scene on the west-side trails at Turkey Mountain.

Speaking of expertise, it would be a good idea if Turkey Mountain had its own superintendent. RPA has a decent sized inventory of park land outside of Turkey Mountain, and much of its attention is focused on paved trails and festivals at River Parks Festival West. The needs at Turkey Mountain are much more about land management (forestry, wildlife conservation, trail user safety, etc.) than any other park in town. Having someone in charge of the place – a face that stakeholders could interact with – could help with a number of things, such as coordinating races, conservation efforts, public safety and volunteer work. Yeah, it’s an extra expense for RPA. But I think it would be worth it.

A glorious view on lands recently reclaimed from commercial development for natural preservation purposes. Setting aside this acreage for wild green space was a case of Tulsa doing things right.

Thoughts should be given toward potential expansion of the park, or finding similar places in the city and county where wild spaces can be preserved. Turkey Mountain is being hemmed in by development. Thinking of wildlife, those critters need room to move. Their habitats have a range that is a little bigger than most folks realize. When it gets surrounded by development, those creatures can be living in something akin to a slow-burning siege. Likewise, lots of people love Turkey Mountain, and in some ways, it’s being loved to death. Multiple wild green spaces would alleviate some of that crowding, and given the proven community value Turkey Mountain has shown, more would indeed be better. Green spaces are an increasingly important quality of life factor for people and employers looking for a place to put down roots. Economic diversity is sorely needed here; giving people reasons to give us a look needs to include quality of life amenities that are crucial for community development.

Pedal power? Sure. Motorized? Never.

Lastly, no credibility should be given to making any part of Turkey Mountain open to motorcycle or ATV usage. It’s not safe, it’s bad for the trails, harmful to wildlife and would detract from the user experience. Motor sports aren’t allowed there now, and that’s a prohibition that needs to be maintained permanently.

I’m sure I could think of other ideas, and in time, I might jot those down. But I think these make for a good start. I care about this place. In many ways, I wouldn’t be the same person today if not for Turkey Mountain, and there is a large number of people who can say the same thing. Let’s go about this master plan wisely, remembering what makes Turkey Mountain the great place that it is.

Bob Doucette

Running, and, er, power hiking, the Post Oak Challenge

Body built by burritos. (Phillip J. Davis/Post Oak Lodge photo)

If you remember, a couple of weeks back I confessed to falling off the wagon as a trail runner. It had been awhile since my feet ran on dirt, and I expected the price for my sins to be high at last month’s Post Oak Challenge. I signed up for the 10K on a course that’s known for being difficult, regardless of distance.

I also mentioned that the forecast for the weekend’s races looked like rubbish – lots of rain, which would make a course known for holding water that much tougher.

Boy, was I right on that one.

It was a rainy January and February – Tulsa is already a couple of inches of rain above normal for the year, and the folks at Post Oak Lodge had to cancel Sunday training runs at the site because the trails were too muddy. And then it rained the week before the races. And then on each of the first two days of the three-day race series, including a nice dump the morning of my race.

Post Oak’s course runs through a series of dirt-and-grass trails that undulate on the sides of hills and in the bottoms of valleys and ravines of the Osage Hills northwest of Tulsa. Toward the end of the race, you make two climbs – one that goes most of the way up Holmes Peak (the highest point in a four-county area), then another that meanders up and down what’s dubbed as the Hill from Hell. We’ll get to that in a bit.

I’ve run here before, so I know how muddy it can get. Well, at least I thought I did.

Things started well enough. Everything was nice and runnable. The route took us downhill, things got muddier, but we all plowed through it. Somewhere down there was a creek crossing. No big deal.

And then it started. For the next couple of miles, the trail consisted of a viscous mix of mud and water that resembled lubricant. It wouldn’t stick to your shoes, but it gave you little to no traction. Suddenly this “run” turned into a hike.

There were briefs moments of respite: a dried-out section here, rockier trails there, even a farm road that drained nicely and actually allowed me to run. But then we’d head uphill, the slop would resume, and it was three feet forward, two feet back. Power-hiking resumed.

This wasn’t true for everyone. Fleet-footed runners ahead of me somehow found a way to keep surging ahead, and one of my coworkers in the race actually won the damn thing while clocking in at an 8:30 pace. How, I don’t know.

I groused to myself every now and then, complaining about what had turned into an $80 hike, but eventually got over it and made the best of things. I ran where I could. I hiked when needed. I chatted up fellow sufferers and kept things moving.

Probably my favorite part of the race started on a long downhill on the side of Holmes Peak. I shortened my steps (some of us call it “logrolling”) and zig-zagged downhill, piecing together a nice, long, enjoyable stretch of technical trail running that made me feel like I wasn’t a lost cause after all. But eventually we bottomed out and the slop-fest resumed.

The Post Oak Challenge pins its reputation on another one of its big hills, the Hill from Hell I mentioned earlier. I vaguely remembered its trials, but I figured the worst of it was behind me.

At the base of the hill was the last aid station, where local trail legend Ken “TZ” Childress was serving up Fireball along with the more traditional water and Gatorade. Usually I don’t slam booze during a race unless I’m tanking hard. Just Gatorade for me, being the serious runner and all.

Anyway, the Fireball was particularly tasty. We clicked plastic cups for a short toast and I rumbled up the hill to tackle the last of it.

What I remember of the Hill from Hell is that you meander uphill a ways, then go downhill, and regain all that precious lost elevation one more time before you end the race. The reality is you go up the hill, back down some, up a little, down some more, back up, top out, then do down, circle its upper flanks and finally emerge from the woods to go run in the grass, around a pond and across the finish line.

Making things more fun was the trail was about as slick and treacherous as anywhere else in the race. I bit it hard once, landing on my butt with a heavy splat before regaining my feet and sliding my way forward. Running/hiking in conditions like this looks hilarious because your body is twisted one way while your feet are going somewhere else. It’s a great core workout for sure. But utterly absent of grace or any other appearance of athleticism. Or maybe that’s just me.

When I left the horrors of the hill behind and started the last grassy loop toward the finish, I surmised that now I’d finally be able to run again, but was somewhat disappointed to find that the grass was mostly a shoe-sucking bog that, again, undermined any attempt at speed.

The race ended with 80-something people finishing ahead of me, 60-something folks behind. In my age group, I finished 19^th out of 22.

Ouch.

It could have been worse. I had one friend who fell hard enough that she thought she may have busted her jaw. And I did accomplish both of my goals: to finish and not finish last.

Success!

I look like someone who just got away with something.

Post-race, we all gathered for free grub and a couple of beers while talking about the race, the trail conditions, and the strategies used to cope with it all. I was informed by perennial Post Oak competitors that the course conditions were actually worse the year before.

So I suppose the trail gods did show me a little mercy. My long absence required penance, but it could have been more severe.

And I got the last laugh. Despite the conditions, my miserable finish time, the over-abundance of power hiking, the mud caked in all the wrong crevices, I had fun. You heard me right. This was a good time. I embraced the suck and was rewarded not with hardware, glory or any sense of achievement, but with something simpler – a grin on my face akin to a little kid who did something wrong and got away with it.

Bob Doucette

Confessions of a backslidden trail runner

A scene from the last time I did a trail race. It’s been awhile. (Clint Green photo)

It’s no secret that I like to hit the trails whenever I can. Hiking has been a passion of mine for a while now, and when I moved to Tulsa I found an urban trail area that is built for not just hiking, but trail running.

It didn’t take long for me to dive deep into that. I’d been running some by that point, but trail running was a whole other animal, something that I took to within weeks. I bought trail shoes, joined a trail running group and spent whatever free time I had learning the park’s trail system. Hell, I ran a 25K trail race before I completed by first half marathon. I quickly – and proudly – identified as a trail runner.

Fast forward to the present day. Between those early days of excitement, when getting my dirt on was fresh and new, to now, I’ve put on some miles. Raced a bunch of races. Tripped over who knows how many rocks, roots and stumps while winding my way through the woods. Even repped a manufacturer of trail running shoes for a couple of years.

This brings up the need to confess something. I haven’t been in a trail race in nearly two years.

For that matter, I haven’t run on trails since last summer.

Scandalous, right?

It’s not like I haven’t been running. And it’s not like I haven’t been on the trails. I just haven’t run on the trails. It made me feel like a phony for a while, but then I got busy with other things and didn’t think about it much.

But this weekend, I’m breaking this unfortunate streak. I entered a 10K trail race close to home. I’ve run it before – the 10K and the 25K – and both races kicked my ass. And I’m sure it will again.

I also believe the trail running gods are seeing this as bit of revenge toward me for my lack of fealty. I’m not in great shape, and the weather forecast looks absolutely terrible: low 30s to start, with rain all morning. This, on a course known to hold a lot of water when it rains even the slightest. I predict a lot of slipping, shivering, falling and humiliation on my part. The trail gods’ judgment will be severe for this backslidden acolyte.

So be it. I’ve missed the trail running race scene. Road runners are great, as are their races. But the flavor of a trail race gathering is its own thing – admirable, fun, weird and always a party, even under the most miserable circumstances.

My goals are simple. First, finish the damn thing. And second, try not to finish last. So wish me luck. It’s been awhile since I’ve raced in the dirt. Hopefully I haven’t forgotten how.

Bob Doucette

Work day: Trail repairs, great volunteers and a word about preventing future trail damage

Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go… (Laurie Biby photo)

I’ve been a big believer in taking care of the places that take care of you. And I’m glad we have a bunch of like-minded people here in the Tulsa area.

The Tulsa Urban Wilderness Coalition, partnering with Tulsa’s River Parks Authority, held a trail work day last Sunday at Turkey Mountain. This is different from cleanup days, in that the focus is trail repair.

Somewhere around 30 people showed up. The trails there are popular for cyclists, runners and hikers, but all that traffic, plus the normal wear and tear from the elements, has taken a toll. People using their free time to do some hard manual labor for the trails is a good sign that people aren’t just engaged as users, but also as stewards. Here’s a bunch of pics of people getting after it on Sunday morning.

Rutted trail needs some work. (Laurie Biby photo)

Volunteers getting started. (Laurie Biby photo)

Working on the trail. (Laurie Biby photo)

We were blessed with a huge dirt pile and plenty of people willing to move said dirt from Point A to Point B. (Laurie Biby photo)

Building the base of an improved trail section. (Laurie Biby photo)

This gal was nonstop movement. (Laurie Biby photo)

Repairs coming along… (Laurie Biby photo)

Putting on the finishing touches. (Laurie Biby photo)

We’re several years past the day when the TUWC was formed. If you remember, the organization was born in the wake of plans to build an outlet mall on Turkey Mountain’s west side. Strong advocacy from TUWC members and effective public pressure turned that plan aside, eventually leading the land in question to be set aside as a permanent part of the city’s greatest wild green space.

During that period, the TUWC held a bunch of work days like this, and turnout was strong. We know a lot of that was due to the publicity Turkey Mountain had gotten over the mall controversy. Seeing a solid turnout last week, now a few years after the mall issue was resolved, is a great sign that people still have a sense of ownership of the place where we all like to play. Many of the people who showed up have also been active in developing trail systems in Claremore and Tahlequah, so there is a sense that not only will Turkey Mountain remain a high priority for outdoor enthusiasts, but that the region is primed for growth in outdoor recreation and sports.

There is, however, another issue that has arisen. And this one is not as positive.

January was a wet month here in Tulsa, and the section of trail we were working on was a muddy mess. It made our efforts more difficult, and frankly, I lobbied pretty hard to have that stretch closed for a month or so. It needs time to settle and harden.

In the midst of doing all this work, there were people out doing their thing, including a good number of cyclists. In the muddy sections we weren’t working on, new, deeper ruts were being formed before our eyes.

To be clear, let’s just say it: Any sort of traffic on the trails when they’re muddy is going to cause damage. And I know cyclists don’t want to hear this, but bike traffic on muddy trails leaves the most wear and tear.

I’d offer this: Wherever you live and whatever trails you use, think about the condition of the trails before you go out. A little muddy is no big deal. But if they’re saturated, consider letting those places dry out before you go. I’m happy to do the repair work. That’s going to be needed no matter what. But it makes sense to mitigate the damage by laying off when you know your favorite routes are going to be mud soup. You’ll save the trails some grief, as well as the components on your bike.

Bob Doucette

Oklahoma women running far: Camille Herron sets a 24-hour record, and Bevin Ver Brugge claims a 100-mile first

Camille Herron

A couple of Oklahoma women decided this past week was a fine time to to make their mark. And by making their mark, I mean doing things no one — man or woman — had ever done.

First up is Camille Herron, of Warr Acres, Okla. Camille is a well-known ultra runner who last year set the U.S. record for a 100-mile race at the Tunnel Hill 100 (12:42:39, a stunning 7:38 per mile pace). That record was broken this year, but not one to stand still, Herron broke another record this past weekend, tallying 162.9 miles in a 24-hour period at the Desert Soltice Track Invitational (8:50/mile pace). And by breaking a record, I mean breaking a world record. In doing this, she also broke the 100-mile track record.

Next up is something more local, but also impressive. In Tulsa, runner Bevin Ver Brugge took on a very personal project: that of doing her first 100-mile run on her local trails.

Bevin created a loop at Tulsa’s Turkey Mountain Urban Wilderness that, when done eight times, would give her that 100-mile total. She set about doing it on Dec. 1.

A hundred miles is tough no matter what, but doing this at a place like Turkey Mountain is particularly difficult. The elevation changes aren’t as severe as you get in more mountainous states, but the trails themselves vary from mellow and runable to highly technical, riddled with rocks and roots that make for slow going. Compounding that is the presence of a bunch of fallen leaves, hiding all those tripping hazards.

She completed that task in a bit over 36 hours. But the time is not the record here. While Turkey Mountain is home to plenty of races (including a few 50Ks), it’s believed that she’s the first to run 100 miles there in one go. In doing so, she also picked up more than 9,000 feet of vertical gain — not too shabby in the middle of the Southern Plains.

Watch this video of the emotional finish at the trailhead.