Things Ultrarunners Know: Animals

To complete tthe series of Things Ultrarunners Know, here is a repost of one on animals from 8 Jan 2011:

 

 

 

(Meadow vole image credit Wikipedia)

(Deer mouse image credit Wikipedia)

The other day, while running, I passed a road kill on a local road near my home. What made it a bit unusual was that it was a small critter, either a mouse or a vole.

One would think that a road-killed animal of such small size would have been completely smashed, but this one was not crushed; it was only slightly bloody about the head. But very dead.

That struck me as strange, meaning that the mouse-like animal would have been struck--but not run over--by a vehicle tire, as though it ran into the side of the tire. Now, I’m sure that it can happen that way, but my mind immediately thought “hawk” and I looked up to see whether I was under a tree or telephone pole where a raptor may have just dropped its partially eaten prey.

Nope, turns out I wasn't under any such perch, so the dead mouse or vole was in all likelihood just a road kill. But when you hear hoof beats, you think horses, not zebras. A hawk being involved seemed more likely than road kill, but I was wrong.

Why even bother with this pretty mundane story? Because it points to another example of what we ultrarunners know and “regular” people don’t. You see, we know local fauna in a way that most people don’t—we see dead animals up close on the roads. And we see live ones out on the trails and the roads. Without having taken a single zoology course, we ultrarunners have a pretty good idea of who in the animal kingdom lives nearby.

We know, for instance, whether the local cat population includes cougars, bobcats, lynxes, or none of the above. Or the difference between a skunk, an opossum, a raccoon, a beaver, and a woodchuck. How to distinguish between a red and a grey fox. Whether the deer is a whitetail of a mule deer. That the local large hawk is in all likelihood a red-tail, or how to ID one of the smaller raptors. And whether any bears (grizzly or black) live locally.

You get the idea. I plan to expand this theme of Things Ultrarunners Know into a series of posts on other disciplines such as meteorology, astronomy, geology, and hydrology, as a minimum. I previously did a post last May on this theme, about rain and getting wet.

We are a pretty smart bunch. Or at least observant.

 

 

Things Ultrarunners Know: Astronomy

Here's the third installment of Things Ultrarunners Know.  I previously posted on Things Ultrarunners Know: Astronomy here.

In the big picture, if you are a serious Ultrarunner, you will be doing some of your running at night.  And if you know something about astronomy you will be fascinated for hours at what you can see with the naked eye.

The most basic is the moon and its phases.  I find that I am particularly aware of when the full moon is, and whether the lunar phase is waxing (gettign bigger as it heads towards full) or waning (getting smaller as it heads towards the new moon)

I've posted a lot about things pertaining to the heavens. If you scroll down to the lower right, to the SEARCH box, and type in astronomy, you'll get a number of hits.

Science aside, my favorite philosophical astromomy post is this one about Walt Whitman, here:

   When I Heard the Learned Astronomer

   When I heard the learn'd astronomer,

   When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,

   When I was shown the charts and diagrams to add, divide, and measure   them,

   When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,

   How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,

   Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,

   In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

   Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.

By the way, the Perseids meteor shower is upon us, with the peak expected to occur the night of 12 August.

Things Ultrarunners Know: Meteorology

Here's the second in the series of Things Ultrarunners Know.

This is pretty simple: if you are going to run long distances and be out there for hours, it helps to know what the weather is going to be.  As a minimum, you need to know which local source of weather information is best and most likely to be accurate for your situation.

For example, one can always go to The Weather Channel, but I find that my local NBC affiliate, Channel 25 in Hagerstown, MD, is usually spot on and better than more national type resources.

Beyond the forecast, obviously, your personal observations are also critical--what's the humidity?  Which direction is the wind coming from, and at what speed?  I find that in the summer I tend to run east more often, so that I can enjoy the cooling westerly breezes as I finish my run.  In the winter, I tend to run west first, into the teeth of the wind to get it over with, then cruise home with the wind at my back.

One final note: especially in the early morning or evening, I love to experience what I call micro pockets of air: areas where you feel a distinct change in temperature or humidity.  Usually this is associated with a low spot or depression where cooler air tends to pool.  But sometimes in the morning you can be running along in the coolness, then top a small rise, where the air has a noticeably warmer feel.

 

Things Ultrarunners Know: Hydrology

[photo by Gary, Greenbriar River near Durbin, WV]

For some time I've wanted to do a series of posts about some of the ancillary disciplines that Ultrarunners get at least a bit proficient in, as a result of our backcountry running passion.

I, for one, am extremely cognizant of surface streams.  Here where I live in south-central PA, the underlying rock strata is limestone, which is soluble and can contain very complex subterranean drainage systems.  In the area surrounding my home, there are only a couple surface streams, and those issue from limestone springs.

As I run I like to look out across the farm fields to scope out the slope of where rainfall will drain to.  Around here, rainwater usually flows across the surface for a bit until it reaches a gravitational dead end...then it slowly seeps into the ground to join the water table.

At some later time it will re-emerge as a spring. All these hydrological  characteristics are called karst:

Due to subterranean drainage, there may be very limited surface water, even in the absence of any rivers and lakes. Many karst regions display distinctive surface features, with cenotes, sinkholes or dolines being the most common. However, distinctive karst surface features may be completely absent where the soluble rock is mantled, such as by glacial debris, or confined by one or more superimposed non-soluble rock strata. Some karst regions include thousands of caves, although evidence of caves large enough for human exploration is not a required characteristic of karst.

Anyway, I wonder where the water goes.  Of course, in the backcountry, we need to be alert to potential water sources if our run will keep us out longer than the water we carry will hold out.  In that case, we need to know where the safe-to-drink springs are, or stream water than can be treated with a purifying agent.

Things Ultrarunners Know: Astronomy

In looking back over my posts here at Mister Tristan, I see where a frequent topic has been night running and astronomy (see here on astronomical distances, here for Orion (and specifically the star Sirius), and here for the Perseid meteors, to cite 3 examples). 

I can't see how anyone who runs at night can fail to be awed by the heavens and want to learn more, much more.  I find myself constantly consulting various astronomy sites to learn about what I was seeing.

One of my favs is Bad Astronomy for an eclectic view of astronomy.  Another with more of a layman's approach to understanding what you see in the night sky is Tonight's Sky.

For example, last weekend I was thrilled to see the juxtaposition of Jupiter and the Moon.  I had noticed the bright planet very near the moon, but did not know for sure without checking that it was Jupiter.  And Venus is particularly bright this week, low in the eastern sky before daybreak.

Of course, no post about astronomy and Ultrarunning would be complete without mentioning the U.S. Naval Observatory's site for Sun and Moon data.   I use this site regularly whenever I travel to see when local sunrise and sunset will occur.  When you click over there you will notice the term "civil twilight."  For ultrarunners, the practical definition is "when can I run without a flashlight?" 

You can start about half an hour prior to sunrise and be able to see well enough to not not kill yourself sans flashlight.  On the other end, it's the drop-dead time when you better be out of the woods or you're in a heap of trouble.

To use the Naval Observatory site you plug in your location and date to get a customized result.  For example, I know I will be in Everett, WA the end of July 2011 for a conference.  So on Sunday, 24 July, sunrise is at 5:35 am, with civil twilight beginning at 4:57 am.  So I could start a run around 5:00 am without a light.  At the end of that Sunday, if I'd choose to run late, the sun sets at 8:55 pm, with civil twilight ending at 9:33 pm.  So I could aim for an 8:30 pm finish and have half an hour cushion before full darkness.

Oh, and the moon will rise just after midnight early that Sunday morning, be at its highest at 7:55 am, and set at 3:49 that afternoon.  It will be waning, and be about 35% full.

 

Things Ultrarunners Know: Animals

(Meadow vole image credit Wikipedia)

(Deer mouse image credit Wikipedia)

The other day, while running, I passed a road kill on a local road near my home. What made it a bit unusual was that it was a small critter, either a mouse or a vole.

One would think that a road-killed animal of such small size would have been completely smashed, but this one was not crushed; it was only slightly bloody about the head. But very dead.

That struck me as strange, meaning that the mouse-like animal would have been struck--but not run over--by a vehicle tire, as though it ran into the side of the tire. Now, I’m sure that it can happen that way, but my mind immediately thought “hawk” and I looked up to see whether I was under a tree or telephone pole where a raptor may have just dropped its partially eaten prey.

Nope, turns out I wasn't under any such perch, so the dead mouse or vole was in all likelihood just a road kill. But when you hear hoof beats, you think horses, not zebras. A hawk being involved seemed more likely than road kill, but I was wrong.

Why even bother with this pretty mundane story? Because it points to another example of what we ultrarunners know and “regular” people don’t. You see, we know local fauna in a way that most people don’t—we see dead animals up close on the roads. And we see live ones out on the trails and the roads. Without having taken a single zoology course, we ultrarunners have a pretty good idea of who in the animal kingdom lives nearby.

We know, for instance, whether the local cat population includes cougars, bobcats, lynxes, or none of the above. Or the difference between a skunk, an opossum, a raccoon, a beaver, and a woodchuck. How to distinguish between a red and a grey fox. Whether the deer is a whitetail of a mule deer. That the local large hawk is in all likelihood a red-tail, or how to ID one of the smaller raptors. And whether any bears (grizzly or black) live locally.

You get the idea. I plan to expand this theme of Things Ultrarunners Know into a series of posts on other disciplines such as meteorology, astronomy, geology, and hydrology, as a minimum. I previously did a post last May on this theme, about rain and getting wet.

We are a pretty smart bunch. Or at least observant.

Things That Ultrarunners Know (Part 1)

So much of our effort in civilization involves staying dry….yet so much of our effort as ultrarunners involves being wet. Besides getting rained upon, we do some big time sweating, to say nothing about routinely wading across creeks with not much of a thought about getting our shoes wet.
This past weekend, for example, I ran a 10 miler on local roads, and as I went out in the late morning I could see that the skies were threatening. Since the air temp was about 70 F and cold was not a concern, my only concession to possible rain was to wear a baseball cap (which I often do anyway). That way if it did rain I could pull the brim low over my eyes and keep the rain off my glasses.

Well, some 5 miles into the run I encountered a hard downpour that lasted a couple miles, followed by a lighter rain the rest of the way home. I could see in the eyes of the drivers of the passing cars that they were thinking, “That poor guy, he’s all wet!” or “He’s nuts!”

While I certainly was drenched (I love that word), I was not nuts. In fact, despite having a down day physically (my legs just felt flat and lethargic), my mental attitude was one of loving the freedom and feeling of running in the rain, careless of puddles, enjoying the pelting warm rain. See, “civilized” people just don’t, by and large, spend time in the rain sans umbrella—It. Just. Isn’t. Done.

Imagine how many millions (billions?) of dollars are invested in the umbrella, poncho, slicker, hood, and hat industries to keep us dry. I tried to Google some data for the umbrella industry but came up empty, but the figure has to be high. I trash a couple umbrellas annually, to say nothing of purchasing outerwear for the times that I don’t want to get wet.

So add this to the list of things that Ultrarunners know and the rest of the word doesn’t—the sheer exuberance of running in the rain.


I wanted to embed the famous clip of Gene Kelly dancing the title tune from Singing in the Rain, but You Tube won’t permit embedding for this one. So you’ll have to click over here to see it. Believe me, it’s worth 4:05 of your time…just imagine a muddy trail instead of the street scene….

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8zaxTZ4OFg&feature=related

(photo credit here)