Chris Wristen

After weeks of considering, it was time to make a decision.

Registrations for the Pikes Peak Ascent surpassed the 1,850-runner capacity, but the website showed applications were still being accepted. It turns out they overbook due to no-shows, but it was clear that time was running out. It was time to decide: Go up, or stay home?

After carefully filling out the registration form — if there’s a mistake, or if your qualifying race and time don’t check out, you’re out of the race and you lose your entry fee — I hit “send.”

Chills shot through my body as I waited for the payment to process. Then it took three days of waiting before my name showed up on the confirmation list. My information checked out. My spot is reserved. This is going down … well … up.

The Pikes Peak Ascent is a trail half marathon to the summit of Pikes Peak in Manitou Springs, Colo. It’s 13.32 miles of distance and 7,815 feet of vertical gain to the peak at 14,115 feet.

It’s not until Aug. 20, so I have about 4 1/2 months to prepare, but nerves already are setting in.

How do I prepare to run at altitude when I live at about 800 feet above sea level? The starting line is about 6,000 feet higher. How do I prepare for up, up, up, when I live in the flatlands of Kansas? Am I getting in WAY over my head?

I’m extremely fortunate to have friends in the Trail Nerds and Trail Hawks who have conquered Pikes Peak already, so they’ve provided training tips and confidence. Still, what makes me nervous is the unknown, and it’s an unknown that simply can’t be solved without stepping to the starting line and tackling the mountain, step by step.

Pie is a powerful thing.

It makes us do crazy things like gorge ourselves long after our stomach is full because, let’s face it, pie is oh so yummy.

It turns out pie has even greater powers — like convincing us to run half marathons.

Yes, pie — and its less delicious partner pi — were the combination that inspired Lawrence Trail Hawks president Laurie Euler to create an original race in honor of Pi Day, March 14. The day celebrates the mathematical constant π, which is shortened to 3.14.

Laurie selected the Saturday after Pi Day, March 19, to conduct the race at the Riverfront Park in Lawrence. The race would be a celebration of pi, and the reward for finishing would be lots of homemade pie.

I’m not a big fan of math, but I do love pie … so that’s how I found myself at the starting line Saturday morning for the Pi-Day River Rotation Half Marathon.

It was to be my first half marathon. In fact, prior to Saturday my longest race was the Run Toto 10-miler in February. I handled that race well for the most part, although I battled cramped calves for the final two miles. Since then, I’d upped my mileage and focused on improving my overall nutrition and hydration.

As far as race preparation is concerned, I thought I was as prepared as possible for my first half marathon.

I downed three liters of water on Friday, so I was as thoroughly hydrated as possible. I had lasagna for dinner on Thursday and salmon and veggies for lunch on Friday, so I’d loaded up on carbs and then eaten light enough to avoid any stomach disturbances. I had a new, modified toe spacer I put together to support my ailing big toe joint on my right foot.

Heck, I even ran the full course two weeks ago on a race preview run. I’d covered the full distance — the course is actually 13.7 miles as opposed to the half marathon distance of 13.1 — and I’d finished it in 2 hours and 19 minutes (not including break time between loops on the course), so I knew I could run it, in about what pace, and avoid my nemesis calf cramps as well.

Perhaps all of the preparation made me a little overconfident. I ate well in advance, laid out my gear the night before, slept decent, woke up early and didn’t feel rushed Saturday morning on my way to Lawrence.

The temperature was a cool 42 degrees for the 8 a.m. start at Riverfront Park. The trails were dry. Wind was light, maybe 10-15 miles per hour.

Eager to get started and get the blood flowing, I started too fast (as always), and I knew it. Still, I felt good and relaxed, so I didn’t slow down much even though I knew that might be asking for trouble later.

Should’ve listened to my better judgment.

I reached the midpoint of the first five-mile loop in about 22 minutes, about two or three minutes ahead of where I thought I should be. Still, I felt good and kept going.

I rolled through the five-mile aid station in 42:06. I’d expected to get there in around 48 minutes. While beginning the second loop in reverse, I downed one of the water bottles from my belt, slurped down a chocolate Clif Shot and kept going.

My left calf started to feel a bit sore at mile eight, but that’s normal for me. I was aware of it and stayed attentive that the pain didn’t spread to the Achilles. I continued to pace behind two other runners until we reached the 10-mile aid station in 1 hour and 25 minutes — very close to even splits for the first two loops.

I was pumped. The goal was to finish in about 2 hours and 15 minutes. At an 8:20 mile pace I was going WAY too fast but still feeling good. A sub-two-hour time looked doable heading back out for the final 3.7 miles.

A half mile into the last loop, I felt a pinch in my right calf. Then the left.

Uh oh.

Over and over, my calves began to clench any time I tried to have a normal stride. I’d slow to a shuffle for a minute and then return to my usual stride. Time and again, the calves began to cramp. The 8:20 pace plummeted to almost 10-minute miles.

I didn’t feel dehydrated. I hadn’t consumed enough water during the race, but I felt overhydrated at the start and downed all three of the small bottles on my belt during the race. Heck, I never even felt thirsty.

Maybe I didn’t drink enough after all. Would a sports drink have been a better option? Maybe I was so tempted by the pie waiting at the finish line that I’d simply run the first 10 miles to fast. Regardless, I’d taken my hydration for granted, and now I was paying for it.

All of my preparation and confidence got me through the first 10-plus miles, but the last three were my punishment.

Those final miles were like reliving the last two of the Run Toto 10-mile race in February when cramps forced me to hobble my way to the finish line. Using downhill segments to stride out was no use, a late kick to the finish line wasn’t going to happen. The two-hour mark arrived about 200 yards from the finish line — a goal for another race, I suppose.

I shuffled down the home stretch and through the finish in 2:01.21, still far ahead of where I thought I’d be but not a totally satisfying time knowing my calves let me down.

Still, I was pleased overall. My first half marathon is in the books, I ran faster than I’d planned on — and the homemade pies were a wonderful post-race treat. I had a slice of one known as a cranberry-something-or-other. I assume the something-or-other was the secret recipe, because it was incredible.

I’ve rehydrated and refueled plenty in the days since the race. I’ve soaked my feet in buckets of ice multiple times and had bags of ice on my knees. I’m not quite ready to go again, but I will be soon.

I’m anchoring the final 8.7 miles on a Brew to Brew relay team next weekend, and yesterday I signed up for the Free State Trail Half Marathon April 23 at Clinton Lake State Park. There won’t be pie after that race (I don’t think so, anyway), but there’ll be another assortment of treats — and hopefully this time there’ll be a sub-two-hour time to show for it.

When it comes to natural beauty, Kansas isn’t exactly Colorado in terms of large rock formations to gawk at or mountains to scale.

But it turns out Kansas has its own version of Garden of the Gods … sort of. Last month when I was initially planning to pay a visit to Kanopolis State Park while in Salina to cover the state wrestling tournament — an idea that was scrapped when a snowstorm rolled in — trail running friend Nick Lang recommended also visiting Mushroom Rock State Park.

He insisted it wouldn’t take much time, but that it would be time well spent.

Last week, I returned to Salina to cover the basketball state tournament. This time the skies were sunny and the temperature was unusually warm for early March. I tossed my hiking boots in the trunk and made plans to head to Kanopolis.

I set out early Friday morning from my Salina hotel, and when I was about five miles outside of KSP I saw a sign for Mushroom Rock State Park. I made a right turn and drove about two miles down a dirt road.

Suddenly, there it was — all five acres of it.

Mushroom Rock State Park is Kansas’ smallest state park, and it’s exactly what its name implies. It has a few big rocks that look like mushrooms. The formations are sandstone and sedimentary rock that have been shaped by the elements.

Only a few formations exist, which is what makes their existence in the middle of a field so bizarre.

There wasn’t much to do at the park besides gawk for a bit, snap a few photos, take a bit of video and then head back down the road toward Kanopolis. It was worth taking a peek, though, and will be a good picnic stop on future trips to the area.

There’s nothing wrong with mixing business with pleasure, as long as it doesn’t interfere with business getting done.

With that in mind, this week’s trip to Salina to cover the Class 4A basketball state tournament became a bit more fruitful today when I made a long-awaited trip to Kanopolis State Park to check out some of the state’s most famous hiking trails.

Originally I planned to make the trip to Kanopolis — which is about 35 miles southwest of Salina — two weeks ago when I was in town for the wrestling state tournament. A snowstorm dampened those plans, however, so I hung my hopes on having better weather during state basketball.

The team I’m here to cover, Basehor-Linwood, won its first-round game Thursday, meaning I’d be in town for the rest of the weekend. I cranked out a story, column, photo gallery and video highlights Thursday night to make sure my Friday morning would be free to play on the trails.

I set the alarm for 6:15 a.m. A sunrise start would be important to make the most of my time at Kanopolis and still get back in time to cover a 3 p.m. game.

After a quick shower, breakfast and a half hour of watching the morning news to get the full scoop on the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, I hopped in the car and hit the road.

The thermostat in the car rose into the upper 40s, and eventually the 50s, as I drove. The sun was shining. I put the windows down and smelled the fresh air blowing across the prairie.

I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect March day.

Kanopolis turned out to be as refreshing as I expected. I paid my $3.70 for a vehicle day pass, and then set off in search of a trailhead. Kanopolis has about 25 miles of trails, including the regionally famous Rockin’ K trail that will be trampled by trailrunners in just a few weeks at the annual Rockin’ K Marathon.

Rather than roaming the open plains, though, I opted for the Horsethief Canyon trailhead so I could get the best of both worlds: Prairie panorama and nature in its element.

I didn’t log nearly the mileage I’d anticipated, maybe five or six miles of hiking at best, but it took a solid three hours because I found myself stopping constantly to look around, soak in the scenery, climb into caves and snap photos.

The highlight of the hike was horsethief canyon itself, a box canyon where the Pawnee Indians hid the horses they’d stolen from a Cheyenne village in the 1800s. The canyon had steep walls on three sides with only one way in and out so the horses couldn’t escape.

It’s an incredible place with so much to offer anybody who loves spending time outdoors and, in particular, hiking. This may be Kansas’ natural beauty at its best.

It’s a day trip that definitely was worth waking up early for, and it’s a trip I look forward to making again soon.

Four days ago, I completed the longest distance race of my life.

The 10-mile loop at Wyandotte County Lake Park thoroughly kicked my butt with ankle-deep snow patches and icy, packed-in areas, not to mention the steep hills that burned on the way up and included out-of-control switchbacks on the way down.

Two final miles with cramping calves left my brain feeling a bit out of balance once the race was done. The sense of accomplishment was massive, but the urge to run again was wiped from me.

Anything I’d done to prepare for the run was quickly rejected.

That healthy diet that helped me drop 10 pounds since New Year’s? So long.

The urge to go out for a Monday night run? Goodbye.

Saturday night’s dinner included an entire frozen pizza and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. Sunday was a repeat performance — with a Starbucks venti mocha poured on top of it.

Gross, huh?

My throbbing calves and aching back made the living room couch much more appealing than a trip to the gym or a slippery jaunt through the park on the melting snow.

Today, however, the post-race hangover finally wore off. I fired up the blender for a frozen fruit breakfast smoothie, pulled my clean running gear out of the drier and tossed my running shoes in the trunk. The temperatures were supposed to push 60 degrees. Time to get back on track.

Work got done early today, and I knew the trails at Shawnee Mission Park had been closed the past few days due to mud, so I hopped in the car and headed to Lawrence. Nick, Gary, Amanda, three dogs and I did an easy 3.6 miles at Clinton Lake. The legs felt fresh and responded like I hoped they would. No tightness. No soreness. No pain — other than when a few of the screws in my shoes (a bit too long … rookie mistake) poked all the way through and stabbed my big toes.

I could’ve probably run six miles and felt good tonight. I couldn’t believe it.

Soooooo … Tonight I signed up for the Pi-Day River Rotation Half Marathon on March 19 in Lawrence. It’s along the Kansas River “Sandrat” trails, a mostly smooth stretch of trail with some rolling hills but nothing too serious. It seems like a good option for my first half-marathon. Just like my 10-miler on Saturday, the goal will be simply to finish. If I surprise myself with a faster time, that’s a bonus.

Anyway, one personal-record distance is done. Now it’s on to the next one.

The small, aluminum dog tag hangs proudly in my living room tonight, the reward for surviving the PsychoWyco Run Toto Run 10-mile trail race Saturday morning at Wyandotte County Lake Park.

Moments after crossing the finish line, Bad Ben — the godfather of Kansas City trailrunning and all-around badass — was there to greet me with a smile and firm handshake before handing me my prize.

Run Toto Run 10-mile

To the non-runner, it might not look like much.

To me, it’s gold.

It’s a long-term reminder of the pain and punishment my legs endured, and it commemorates the longest race I’ve ever completed.

It’s a milestone and a stepping stone. I plan to run a trail half-marathon this spring, and I want to earn one of the understandably larger, shinier, heavier medals that go to those psycho enough to take on the Run Toto 20-mile and 50K options.

The greatest obstacle to completing one of those runs may be mental, because I can’t fathom just how hard it must have been to do a second or third loop on the course. The 10-mile loop was challenging enough.

I had an idea how tough the course would be before the race even started.

While riding the shuttle from the marina parking lot to the starting line, I saw trail markers in the woods nearby. They were in the same location as last fall’s Veteran’s Day four-miler — a race which included the steepest hills I’d ever run. Those same hills marked the final two miles of the Run Toto loop — only this time they were coated in snow.

The knowledge that a rugged finish awaited remained stuck in my mind every step of the way.

The morning began with temperatures in the 20s and they rose into the 40s as the day went on. Still, multiple rounds of snow during the past three weeks left the entire park coated in white. The trails were no different. Depth ranged from ankle-deep snow to well-packed but icy. I screwed my shoes for the first time ever — and thank God for that. Even with a dozen screws drilled into the bottom of each shoe, footing was still tricky on icy patches, steep inclines and out-of-control, switchback declines.

The slippery footing, along with the constant ups and downs made it difficult to maintain pace. Balance was a constant battle.

To help combat the course, three well-stocked aid stations offered plenty of drinks, snacks, smiles and encouraging words from an incredible support staff.

The final five miles were labeled with distance markers every half-mile counting down to the end of the loop. It was an unexpected but welcome inclusion because I could eye my watch and the signs and finally settle into a steady place. Plus, it allowed for a mental countdown to the finish line.

Some of the trickiest inclines were in the final half of the loop, whether it was a three-foot step-up that required grabbing onto trees for support, or fallen trees that had to be climbed over. All the while, I knew the hardest part remained in the final two miles.

Sure enough, those final miles were as tough as I expected — but not for the reasons I remembered. The steep, rocky inclines and declines had to be dealt with, but the greater problem was that my calves began cramping moments after I passed the eight-mile marker. The muscles tried to lock up every fourth or fifth step, forcing me to hobble to maintain balance before ultimately slowing to a shuffle. Suddenly, those final distance markers couldn’t arrive soon enough.

As luck would have it, right about that time I caught up to some of the 20-mile and 50K runners who’d started an hour earlier but were running at a slower pace. We exchanged words of encouragement, and I adopted their pace for a bit to get me through the final few minutes before crossing the finish line and receiving a smile, handshake and dog tag from Bad Ben.

My hope was that I’d complete the 10 miles in around two hours, although ultimately I simply wanted to finish.

My final time was 1 hour, 53 minutes.

I was relieved to be done, but I was far more content a few moments later thanks to another dose of generosity from the race organizers and support staff. A literal smorgasbord of post-race goodies awaited us, from peanut butter and jelly or Nutella wraps, to water and energy drinks, fruit and cups of hot, homemade soup. Talk about a treat!

Run Toto is the farthest race I’ve completed so far, and it’s without a doubt the hardest race I’ve ever participated in. It’s also the most well-organized and well-staffed race I’ve done. Every last detail was done well, and it made for a motivating and memorable experience.

I’m already looking forward to next year’s race — but until then I’ve got my hard-earned dog tag as a reminder.

Egypt has been on my list of potential travel destinations for the past few years, so I’ve followed the uprising in Cairo with great interest for the past 18 days.

What’s going on there? Why is it happening? How poorly have the people been treated? What are their demands? Why is this taking so long? Why doesn’t Mubarak seem to get it?

So many questions have filled my mind.

I’m not a Middle East scholar, but I do my best to try to understand what’s happening.

The first order of business most mornings has been to flip on the news to get the latest information about what’s been happening in Cairo. During the day, Al Jazeera English’s online broadcast has been on in the background of my computer. The last order of business at night has been watching CNN.

Somewhere in the hours between turning off the TV last night and flipping it on this morning, Feb. 11, something changed. Mubarak decided to resign. The official announcement came about an hour after I got up this morning and I’ve been glued to the TV screen since then.

The celebration in the streets … MSNBC’s Richard Engel swarmed by happy Egyptians sending out their messages to the rest of the world … all of it incredible to watch. What it ultimately will mean remains unknown.

Will a peaceful, more prosperous country arise? If the people’s peaceful nature throughout the 2 1/2-week revolt is any indication, they’d like for that to be the case. Will a group with more sinister goals hijack the movement and create a worse situation? Only time will tell.

The resolution — in the short term, at least — has made me all the more curious to travel to Egypt at some point in the next few years. History was made today, and so much more will be made during the next few weeks, months and years. It’s something worth experiencing first-hand, while still visiting the traditional historical sites such as the Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx, sailing down the Nile or camping in the White Desert.

Intrepid Travel continued to offer it’s Egypt tours on its website throughout the uprising. It will be interesting to see how those trip itineraries might change as the country changes as a result of the events of the past 18 days.

Single-digit temperatures and occasional near-whiteout conditions swarmed Darin, Tim and I during our six-mile snowshoeing adventure on Dec. 30 in Breckenridge, and the video taken during that trek is finally finished.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe just how snowy it was — or how cold.

Tim’s eye nearly froze shut.

Frostbite was a serious risk.

Good times were had by all.

Enjoy the show.

Ten days removed from a 10-mile trail run, something became disturbingly clear: My training had fallen off … big time.

There were a combination of culprits — a brief battle with a stomach bug that floored me for a couple days; the work schedule had picked up; and of course the frigid temperatures made it much easier to stay snuggled up inside on the couch.

That last explanation is what bothered me the most.

Sure, I’d been sick for a little bit. That’s a fair excuse. Good health is important if training is going to be effective. And the second explanation also was OK. Content is necessary to fill papers, and sometimes that means sacrificing some extra time.

But too cold? Really?

Come on now, God invented layering and merino wool for a reason, and you’ve got plenty of it.

That little nugget of truth put my legs back to work Wednesday night.

Kansas City was just digging out from Tuesday’s blizzard that dropped at least a foot of snow in my neighborhood, and the temperature was just 4 degrees — plummeting rapidly toward zero and below. Most roads had been just mildly cleared, and most sidewalks had yet to be touched.

I finally came to the realization that none of that was cause for concern. I had an old pair of Salomon trail-runners that were perfect for conditions like this. Plus, as a bit of a gear junkie, I had layers upon layers to choose from to guarantee my survival for at least a few miles in the frigid air.

First came the Under Armour cold gear, and then a pair of running tights. Next, some Icebreaker 200 weight long johns. Then a ski mask and stocking cap. On top of that went the jacket from my rain suit — perfect to hold in heat around my core.

Oh yeah, and a pair of Smartwool hiking socks, some lightweight gloves and my iPod.

Perfection.

For four miles and almost 45 minutes, I looped the surrounding neighborhoods. The terrain varied from 100-meter stretches on the paved road to 50-meter stretches in knee-deep powder that sucked the already thin breath out of me.

Other than a five-minute period about a mile into the run, I was toasty warm. In fact, only the fatigue caused by trudging through the deep stuff kept me from doing another mile or two.

Lessons for the day: It’s good to be a gear junkie, and cold weather’s no excuse to be sedentary.

Kilimanjaro served as my primary source of motivation for the first half of 2010, and in a sense that’s the case again in 2011.

No, I’m not headed back for a second trip up Africa’s tallest mountain — although I would love to if my budget allowed it — but the fitness gains that Kili training provided have set the tone for 2011 to be a year on the run.

Miserably tender patellar tendons that brought me to a halt for more than three years healed during Kili training. An agonizingly weak lower back turned into a sturdier trunk.

Conquering the mountain opened the door to tackling more physical challenges in the months that followed. Trail running became part of the regular routine during the last half of 2010, and four races were completed. A sub-50-minute 10K and a snowshoeing/ski trip to Breckenridge were the final highlights of a year full of obstacles tackled.

So far, 2011 is shaping up to be even more productive.

Frigid weather and snow haven’t kept me off the trails much. Friends in the Lawrence Trail Hawks invited me to the annual Frozen Fat-Ass run on Jan. 8, and the legs logged 9.6 miles.

Tonight, as Snowpocalypse 2011 dropped 5-plus inches of snow (more continues to fall as I type) , I logged a 30-minute training run in ankle deep snow and 12-degree temperatures.

In less than three weeks I’ll take on my longest race ever — the Run Toto Run 10-miler at Wyandotte County Lake Park. And if that goes well … a half-marathon will follow.

The race calendar continues to grow. Many miles will be logged. Unlike 2010 when most of those miles were spent climbing up, a majority of the 2011 miles will be spent going out — out through the neighborhoods, out to the park, out into the woods to wind along the trails.