Wholistic Fitness

Before i take you along with me during Race Day and invite you to share some fantastic professional, poster quality images of me suffering on the race course (be sure to click to enlarge the photos), out of respect, let’s take a m(om)ent to honor what is far more important… Tsoodzil, the Blue Bead Mountain…the Sacred Site of YOUR Pilgrimage to do the Quad with me, next year!

Mount Taylor (US Army engineers named it for President Zachary Taylor in 1849) is a composite rhyolitic to intermediate (latitic) composition stratovolcano that was active >3.3 to 1.5 million years ago (Perry et al., 1990). In this aerial photo by Kirt Kempter, you can see that my beautiful Tsoodzil is an east-facing amphitheater.

Like all of us as we age, She used to be much higher than Her current crown of 11,301′. However, She will still challenge your body, mind, and true spirit next year, when you toe the Start Line of the Mt. Taylor Winter Quadrathlon with me…WF Master Student Michael “CeRAMa” Cerame has already been inspired by my tales of Sweat and Sacred Spirit up and down Tsidool and has vowed to take Pilgrimage to Her next year…will you? I will put up a Taylor Training Cave in our WF SanghaLounge to help all of you who wish to take Pilgrimage to Her next year…the race course starts
to Her upper left on the dry mesa of Grants, then, you can depict Tsoodzil’s characteristically svelte south shoulder ridge; that’s what you will be snowshoeing up…it looks like this once you get there:

Ananda, cranking on the summit headwall as the floor of the southwest falls beneath her snowshoes…you’ll be quite high, in more ways than one, when next year, you reach this point in the Quad!

Ananda at the summit of Tsoodzil (spelled different ways, this spelling is Navajo for…the Blue Bead Mountain.

Mount Taylor is one the four sacred mountains of the Navajo, one of the others, you know very well and graces the masthead of DL and iDL; Doko Ooosliid or Mt.Humphreys, the peak in my backyard here in Flagstaff. The Spanish settlers named Mt. Taylor “Cebolleta”, or tender onion, and later San Mateo. The mountain is a vast eroded volcanic massif which towers more than a mile above the desert plateau of central New Mexico. Here She is, like always, protecting the town of Grants, New Mexico. Though not as spectacular as many of the peaks in say, the nearby San Juans, this volcano has captured my spirit like few others…and i used to be a sponsored mountaineer…so, i’ve climbed a few here and there. I TAF it’s the Kachina Spirits which mesmerize my efforts up and down Her that may partially account for my love affair with The Blue Bead Mountain. On Race Day, i reached the summit of Tsoodzil from this spot in 3 hours and 9 minutes. Next year, i am going to demolish that by nearly half hour, i swear i will. and you? before judging ANY mountain, one must be brave enough to sweat up to Her crown chakra as fast as possible…then and only then does one truly know a mountain’s spirit. No…, sucking on Oxygen or using sherpas of ANY sort (mechanized or human) does NOT count! Self-reliance and self-propulsion are the only fuels allowed for the spiritual ascensionist!

RACE MORNING:
in the pre dawn highly vibrating pranic ocean known as Brahmamuhurti (Hour of God), i go through forty-five minutes of an Early Morning Ritual including Neti, Pranayam, and a modified version of Rock Vinyasa (available on DVD in my pro shop) with significant time in sirsasana while running pre-race visualizations.

down to the complimentary breakfast at the Comfort Inn lobby where i slither into the nervous crowd of quadrathletes…as a multi-record holder, i am known in this small circle of athletes and though i practice politeness as any WF Warrior is trained, i shield my energies from dissipating in too much pre-race talk. i have half a bowl of oatmeal, some fruit, and an egg. my nerves and the Pranic Saturation from my Early Morning Ritual will not allow any more physical foodstuffs. from here on out, it’s gonna be PowerGels and PowerBars and PowerBar’s EDURANCE Hydration fluids. i do all my eating and drinking the few days before an ultra race. the morning of the Race, i need to stay empty to channel the Pran. the following SUNRIDER Herbs are ingested: Action Caps, Sport Caps, MetaBalance 44. then comes the MAP (formerly BioBuilde) Amino Acids…these are key.

hang out in my motel room. an inch of fresh snow has fallen overnight. this is go(o)d. means a slower course as the Run segment will be soft. winds are already stirring. the Bike Down will be into side and head winds. i meditate. a feeling of deep thirst for sweating upon my beloved Tsoodzil washes over my padmasana and i feel no hindrance capable of stopping me from performing my best upon Her Sacred Slopes…

START LINE:
i line up front row. embarrassed. though i am a Champion here, it’s been years since i have soloed this monster. making matters more dramatic, i haven’t ridden my bike since last fall. around me are sport-specific duathletes; Xterra Champions that put in 20+ hours per week on their bikes and running. i know from experience how hard the Big Boys like Middaugh, Black, and Sullivan (who are all here) are gonna go right from the gun. the key to Taylor is sell yourself on the Bike Up, Run Up, Ski Up, and Shoe Up…then, just empty out, unplug the cork, and release downhill…you’ve got to be on the Bike Down before the gale force headwinds arrive typically 3.5 hours from now.

the gun goes off. i take the wheel of fellow Flagstaff outdoor athlete; Dustin Phillips…a multi champion in both cycling and mountain running. it’s his first time at Taylor and, like many, i’ve offered free counsel on what gear to take and race strategies to engage. a former Cat 2 roadie, i take his wheel and begin to buckle down the hatches of my screaming ego as our lead group screams away from Grants at 27 mph. my heart rate leaps to 181. it’s gonna be a looong morning.

i shatter at 10k into this 42k event…that’s okay, i tell myself; ANT MEDICINE! PATIENCE! i’ve hung onto the lead group to get me into the first foothills where i can close the Cave of Pain door, retreat inwardly, put my head down, work the Mantra and just limit damage on the next 4 miles of true climbing. i went beyond my aerobic zone already, now, i must refind it and tempo climb. the road surface is icy. at sections i must not press the pedals too hard; the back wheel slips and i could go down in a flash.

“Many dreams come true. From this, it follows that dreams are not meaningless regardless of being scolded as being a “day dreamer.” Fact is, until Enlightenment,
we are all zombies in a wakeful dream state; that’s what the largest circle stroke on the OM symbol signifies. The WF Yogi uses multiple disciplines to shatter the dream state and Awaken toward the meaning beyond dreams.” – attacking the Chase Group nearing the first of six transitions; the Bike/Run Transition.
click to enlarge. photo by www.naggan.com

i am climbing with the remnants of the Lead Group. the wind is whipping; odd for the Bike Up. i average 8 mph on the 12%+ upper section. Dustin has hung with the big guns and is already ten minutes up on me. that’s okay; ilg is not here to win, ilg is here for Sacred Pilgrimage and to be Brave as possible. at the top, i attack our group of 5 and get a slight advantage going into the Run Up but blow it all on a lousy transition.

then, the Run Up; my weakest segment.

last year, my world-class Teammate; Lisa Goldsmith hammered up this Run Up section in 44 minutes. it would take me over an hour. forcing myself into a Yogi Squat every 20 minutes to relieve the neural sacroiliac pain from my 25-year old pelvic combustion, i relied upon Mantra and Ant Medicine as i squatted in the sizzling torture chamber known as my right hip/lower back. i could only watch one athlete after another pass me as i sat squatting. easy to feel sorry for myself. a lifetime of doing sports in sheer inner agony instead of being able to focus on fluid mechanics and floating breath.

three women pass me. then a one-armed guy from southern California.

then, comes a parade of runners passing me that have all the running elegance of drunken WWF wrestlers.

i sit, squatting in my pain. Ant Medicine. Trust. My karma is my karma. Be Patient and keep a goin’
keep a goin’
keep a goin’

Mantra my anchor.
Breath my savior.
Ishta my grace.

the miles actually go by fast…odd for running 12 minute miles. the final mile is the workhorse mile; it’s steeper than steep. and i am just hoggin’ it. so too are others. i pass 3 other hogs schleppin’ up this final section…too bad by now i’ve been passed by legions. i reckon i went from a strong top 20 at the end of the bike to about 40th place right about now.

that’s the downside.

the upside?

i can actually can smell “my events”…the snow events, the Ski and Snowshoe…right up around the next headwall……so i hog it like i’ve never hogged before and pull myself into the Ski Up Transition, somehow calm and confident while probably near 40th place…

SKI UP:
last year, i shot like a rifle bullet up this section after receiving the baton from Lisa in 31 minutes. this year, prefatigued by the Bike Up and Hog Up through a snow covered run (i wore YakTracks for traction while running on the snow covered road), it took me 8 minutes longer. though during my Run Up i seemed to develop an allergic reaction to elegant form, here, ilg came into his own and i could literally feel Vishnu’s Hand on my lower back as i began the ski up. Vishnu’s Hand not only erased all my pain, He pushed me up the 2-mile section in an invisible acceleration of Spanda…Divine Vibration. i began tracking other athletes right and left on the ski course and got my Randy Moss on in a big way. i saw the athletes in front of me as mere “debris”…an arrogant term i developed after winning the Overall Team and Pair Championships over the past three years. when i start seeing other competitors as “debris” then i know i am young again, i know i’ve got the CHI in my back pocket. and i do.

SNOWSHOE UP:
last year’s time was 21 minutes. this year, as a Soloist, i’m only 5 minutes slower and am still just going fishin’ baby; i’m just reeling in debris like a garbage collector on Monday morning. i ain’t Snowshoeing; i’m flying without wings just like my DVD title. at the base of Summit Headwall, that roaring white wave of 600′ which protects Tsoodzil’s crown, there is an Aid Station called, Edge Of The World. there is water here. as well as Jack Daniel shots.
“Hey Coach!” i hear one of the volunteers shout at me above the wind…i’m famous in the oddest places…
“Hey!” i call back as i slow for some water…
” You’re doing great! You want a shot of Jack’s?”
“Sign me up, my friend!”
“You got it, my man…here you go…it’ll cure whatever ails you!”
Reflecting on the volume and amplitude of lower back pain i had just run through, i took his words seriously and slammed down my Jacks;
“Bottoms up to the top!” i said to my mask’d and tundra-jacketed friend…
“hook me up with another when i come back down, okay?”
once a German, always a German.
“You got it, boss…now go git that summit!”

i step around the Edge and stare into the looming face of the Summit Headwall…an ever diminishing line of “debris” lined up like, well, ANTS, working their way up and down from the summit.

drawing senses inward,
latching onto my Mantra like a ghetto Dobberman gone mad, i strike a huge
pace snowshoeing up the massif. i draw confidence from my Snowshoe racing
this season and start hammering up the wall. concentration becomes deep. i refuse to adjust my pace to the slower tempo by those in front; “Go Sell It On The Mountain,”
the thought comes to me as my head spins from my effort and the Jacks to go with it.
“Wow,” i thought, “That would be a great title for my DL…the Sangha will love it,”

fractured Mantra = fractured performance.
i snap the ego leash hard; back to the Mantra…

i reach Tsoodzil’s summmit 3 hours and 9 minutes after blasting from the Start Line,
and now…
it’s all downhill…

SNOWSHOE DOWN:
last year: 8 minutes, 15 seconds.
this year: i absolutely blow it in the transition, futzing around with getting on my ski boot with frozen fingers; 10:24

The Ski Down course in a good snow year…

SKI DOWN:
last year; 13 minutes and 40 seconds; the fastest of all.
this year; 15 minutes and 58 seconds; i am just flying down the ski course at warp speed. i am forced into several very sketchy, high speed passes of “debris” floundering about.

“ON YOUR RIGHT! ON YOUR RIGHT!!!” i scream at one. he is shaky on his skis and freaks out…
i do a trick move to pass him and the motherfugger STABS ME with his ski pole tip!!! i’ve still got the rip and bruise in my left upper IT Band…

i blow by him and think, “I’ve been fuckin’ SKEWERED BY DEBRIS!”

“Serves your yogi ass right for calling those Noble Warriors ‘debris’,” came Vishnu’s Voice calmly from within.

RUN DOWN:
i fear this section; in year’s past i’ve had legendary battles with my back pain as i have tried to hold onto top 20 finishes during this relentless 5-mile descent from snow to mud before seeing the promising glitter of the Bike Down Transition.

this year, same damned scenario. with Vishnu’s Hand i’ve somehow clobbered my way into the top 20 and am stoked yet extremely nervous about the promise of debilitating pain which makes the Run Down for me seem like the Serenghetti Plain and i, the wounded Wildebeast that always, always gets chased down and killed by the omnipotent predators.

this Pilgrimage is different however. i begin flying down the first mile, then the second goes by…soon, i’m running with with only two miles left and no one behind me still! i must have FLOWN on the snow events! Mantra, Mantra, Mantra numbing my pain. i press onward, inward, and ever downward to my Bike…my glimmer of release from this yoga of concussion…

“Whatever the type of disciple, he should follow the commands of the Inner Guru. His attitude must be as if some unknown, unseen Force compels him to do his most Difficult Work. It is ignorance to waste energy in judging whether he or she is qualified or competent to undertake the task of the spiritual journey. The true yogi must Trust and just do that which frightens he or her the most.”
– running through my inner Bardo Realm at the 50 Kilometer point during the Run Down. photo by www.naggan.com

i hold on for dear life…desperate to reach my Bike before the others come chasing me down on this run…i turn around and see a pride of lions chasing me…they are closing fast; run, ilg, RUN!

one mile to my Bike, my flying carpet outta this Hungry Ghost Realm. i’ve been passed by three racers…Team and Pairs…then another Soloist…“not in my Age Group” i quickly calm myself…patience..Ant Medicine…keep running…

A quarter mile to my bike and i get chased down, caught, and passed by some clown in my age group…GAWD I HAAAATE THAT!!!!!

try as i might,
his pace is too strong, though floppy.
“what an idiot,” i think, “that f@#ker is going DOWN on the bike!”

see, it’ moments like this one why i don’t buy all the contemporary Studio Yogi crap that says Yoga is all just ‘Divine Grace’ and other Lovey Dovey Delight bullshit. to me, after 3 decades of combining yoga teaching with national-class mulitsport competition, the REAL YOGA, the real UNION with our accumulated lifetimes as survivalists comes out in full, unmitigated instinctual animalistic CHI in events like Mt. Taylor which pushes every conceivable ego button on your torn and tattered body, mind, and spirit. after 4.5 hours of racing at an average heart rate of 174, you tell me how gawd damned polite you are when some lame ass mofo who runs like a dweeb passes you within sight of your Bike! in fact, if you ever see me be polite to you if you do that to me? just shoot me and put me out of my non-110% of selling myself on the mountain misery, okay?

BIKE DOWN:
Hell hath no fury like an ilg on a Bike Down charge from Tsoodzil’s dizzying heights. i’m railing the upper turns like a friggin’ Porsche…42 mph, and faster still.

at mile 2 into the descent, i recognize a fallen warrior. he was the guy that was hootin’ and hollerin’ like a madman coming down from the summit just as i was topping out. i smiled at the time…must have been the booze…i thought to myself, “wow, that dude is HIGH! i am very happy for him, but he shouldn’t waste so much energy on happiness until after the race.” i really did think that.

now,
here he is…a mangled, broken heap in the ditch. someone was standing over him. sirens in the wind. wow. amazing how effective a race can be as a microcosm of life’s journey; one moment we are as high as a kite, on top of the world, the next? KaBoom! grounded into the visceral toughness of surviving.

into the headwind i stayed low on my tiny aerobars, a definite yoga posture. i picked up a couple of other cyclists in front of me, but they didn’t know how to hold a strong paceline into the wind so i attacked those mofos as well. solo, into the wind, roaring toward the finish line; my goal was now to break 5 hours…

then,like a mirage…
there in front of me,
with only a mile to go…
i could make out the clownish jersey of that Age Group dude that passed me just before the Bike Down transition on the run.

he was about 45 seconds in front,
i hunkered even lower into my aero position, thankful for all those HP Prop Workouts…

i got within 30 seconds of him…half a mile to the finish…

the police cars and pylons appeared…a few people stood on the sidewalks cheering…
15 seconds in back of Mr. Clown, i studied his form as he cornered the right hander…he did not know about cornering…i took the corner like a crit, and drew Clowny within a few seconds of me…up ahead a tiny hill, then a sharp right hander then 300 meters of rough road to the Finish…

i waited,
i stalked…
i felt the Animal inside…
i was Wolf…
using my final allotment of Ant Medicine for the day, i PATIENTLY waited until the tiny little hill, and…
ATTACKED LIKE FUGGIN LANCE ARMSTRONG at L’Alpe d’Huez!!!!

i blew by him soooo hard my draft shook his bike sideways,
i dove into the final corner and rocketed toward the Finish Line
like i was,
like i was…

well,
young again.

and on this day,
on this Blue Beaded Sacred Mountain?

i was.

***

“I took my love and I took it down
Climbed a mountain then I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the… snow covered hills
Well the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky…
What is love?
Can the child within my heart, rise above
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life…”

– lyrics of Landslide, by Stevie Nicks

***

Coach,

Congrats on the Mt Taylor race. It’s your Wild Flower. Racing is like a
magnifying glass that gives us the opportunity to examine how we react in a
moment, a moment we have spent time preparing for. Examining that moment and
the outcome is a g(o)od thing.

Your report gets me pumped up for my Catalina Marathon. I left something on
the Buffalo half course. I don’t I know what the day will bring and a g(o)od
experience is on the way.

We left off at Rock Vinyasa with my Buddha.

Namaste and all my Love,

NWSM
Pasadena,CA

***

Dearest Coach,

Thank you for being my Coach and teacher. My prayers and mantra will be with you as you embark on your solo effort this weekend.

I dedicate this to you:

No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies
half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge.
The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, amongst his followers, gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith and lovingness.
If he is indeed wise he does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.
The astronomer may speak to you of his understanding of space, but he cannot give you his understanding.
The musician may sing to you of the rhythm which is in all space, but he cannot give you the ear which arrests the rhythm nor the voice that echoes it.
And he who is versed in the science of numbers can tell of the regions of weight and measure, but he cannot conduct you thither.
For the vision of one man lends its wings to another man.
And even as each one of you stands alone in God’s knowledge, so much each one of you be alone in his knowledge of God and his understanding of the earth.

Kahill Gibran

Namaste my beautiful Coach Ilg,

ceRama
NYC