Going Cold Turkey

After a good long break from training, I have decided to jump back into things. Ironically it is as the weather changes and I find myself running in the bitter cold. My husband finds this amusing since I am notoriously cold...all the time.

I'm not sure why I choose to run in the cold. Perhaps it is that work has finally slowed down or that our son has settled back into school or that the fall leaves are layered across the road and the sky is a shade of blue that inspires painters. The crispness in the cool morning air seems to quicken my step and I feel alive. It really is a beautiful time of year to run. Even if both sets of cheeks are frozen.

Having run my 1st full Marathon this past spring, many would expect that I could jump right back in, sadly that is not the case. I almost had a heart attack running 3 miles. Now I'm wondering if the Taos Turkey Trot 5k is more appropriate for me right now than a half or full Marathon. For some reason, my diet over the last 6 months of bacon, cheese and a mass consumption of wine, has left me shockingly out of shape!

I think I need to ponder my new training goals now while I drink a bottle of our Refosco wine, it goes so nicely with cheese.

After all, I can't let my body go into shock.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Deadman or Dead Man?

Hello to all you fellow running winos. Jesse here, I am writing the blog today instead of Michele to give my race report on the "Deadman Peaks Trail Run", my first Ultra marathon.

I walked outside the morning of the race, it was cool, not cold (maybe 40°F).  The perfect temp. for a start. David, my father-in-law, drove me to the starting line 8 miles from our B&B. On the way we saw a beautiful bull elk next to the road.., the day should go well. I had been nervous while driving into Cuba the evening before, but this morning I was ready. I got out of the car to go sign in and realized it was a full 10° colder at the valley floor starting line. Luckily, I had packed my running pants, hat and gloves. I could take them off at the first aid station 9 miles in.

This was my first headlamp race start. (Earlier this summer "Taos Marathon" started in the dark, but it quickly got light, it was on the road, and nobody needed headlamps). What an awesome way to start a race. I saw a friend of mine in the darkness,"Scott, what's up man? Kinda cold huh?" It was comforting having a friend out on the course. We started down the dirt road which lasted about 2 miles before turning to single track trail. It was really great to have that room so that most of the jockeying for position was done by the time we hit the trail. I ran with him for the first 3 or 4 miles, until I could no longer keep the pace, knowing I had another 50 miles or so to go. "Have a good race if I don't see you again." "Thanks man, you too." He said. I had made my first good decision of the race, I just need to keep my head in it.

I made my way to the top of the first ridge (mi. 6) by first light. There was a cliff to my left and the valley south of Cuba, NM spread out below in the early morning light. It was just gorgeous and I knew this would be the experience of a lifetime. No regrets. The steepest section of the course was just ahead. A 1.5 mile scramble strait down the side of the cliff. This part wasn't too runnable, though I noticed that those ahead of me seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it. I hooked up with Artem, from L.A., he was walking this section which seemed a bit safe, but definitely a good idea, I would hang with him. Don't beat yourself up too early, my second good decision. From the base of the cliff it was an easy mile or so to the first aid station (mi 9).

We rolled into the aid station and immediately they took my camel-back and asked if I wanted water or Heed. "Half and Half, thanks." Then they handed me my drop-bag and I took off my hat, gloves, long pants, and headlamp. I emptied my shoes of a few pebbles and put them back on. Did I forget anything? No?...OK here we go again. I shouted out "Number 48 out.," this was something I had seen a couple more experienced runners do. The entire aid station thing in this ultra blew my mind. The volunteers were so helpful, I never once had to fill my own camel-back. The tables were full of various goodies; chips, crackers, pretzels, cookies, pb&j, coke, hammer gels, sometimes even beer. They were also rigorously keeping track of each runner. We checked into and out of each aid station, and they talked with other aid stations via walkie-talkie, to  make sure no runners went missing in the boonies. This was comforting because we only crossed 1 dirt road on the entire course.

From there we went through 2 more aid stations and over several more mountains before crossing the Deadman Peaks and down to the turnaround at mile 26.5. The trail was rigorous; alternating between solid rock and sandy arroyos, always with lots of rocks, and plenty of really steep, short pitches. The landscape was incredible; a cross between Painted Desert Arizona and N.M. pine forest, with a splash of Moab, Utah. I ran most of this section solo, in my own zone, listening to my science shows on the ipod and loving every minute of it. I started counting the runners as they passed me on their way back. "Holy cow, I am in 9th place!?!"

I got to the turnaround feeling awesome, maybe the best I had felt all day. There awaiting me was my whole family, my parents, my parents-in-law, my brother and his kid, my wife and my boy. I was so grateful to see them all. I sat down and Michele helped me change my shoes and socks. Angela held an umbrella over me for shade, which felt great. My mom ran to get me snacks from the table. "One marathon down, just one more to go..." I hung out with them maybe 10 minutes and then "Number 48 out." and I hit the trail.

The next 10 miles flew by. With 17 miles to go I noticed that I was starting to feel all the miles in my legs, but I still felt great. I ran into Scott again at an aid station, he wasn't feeling so hot, and was a bit down about it. We talked briefly and then I hit the trail again.

At 14 miles to go I felt a shooting pain in my left knee, it was my illiotibial band, which I hadn't felt in years, but I knew exactly what it was. This made running downhill quite painful and eventually made it impossible. Within a couple miles I tripped several times stubbing 3 toes on my right foot, which also caused a ton of pain. My head wanted me to stop, but I never let myself consider the notion. The pain came and went. I tried to cherish the occasional new view and the way everything looked different with the afternoon light on it.

I got to the final aid station, "you're almost there," a volunteer told me. "only 9 miles to go...". This time, for the first time all day, I wanted to sit down for a bit longer. Several runners came into the aid station as I sat there, making me hurry up. I thought I was in 7th and I really wanted to hold on to my place. The scramble up the cliff was a difficult one and 2 runners were catching me quickly. I kept at it, working hard. Shortly after reaching the top they caught and passed me, chatting with each other as they went by. It didn't seem like they were in as much pain as I was, and they were definitely in better shape. After they passed me I felt like my 9th place was fairly safe if I just kept a decent pace, this was hard to do because the next 4 miles were a steady downhill, and downhill hurt the worst. I slipped down into my own little pain cave with my favorite podcast "Hardcore History with Dan Carlin," and tried my best not to dwell on anything. Before I knew it I was on the dirt road where the journey had started. I didn't recognize a thing, it had been dark before. I turned around and there he was behind me, about a quarter mile back, the runner who could kick me back to 10th. I dug deep, opened my stride, and ran my fastest mile in the last 45.

Crossing the finish line I felt great and started to cry, then I hugged Michele for a while, and cried again. Honestly at this time I felt really good, and it got even better as I sat there drinking some Marble beer, some Vivác Chardonnay...and some Vivác Dolcetto and reminisced with other runners. I felt great about my time, I felt proud of my accomplishment, I left everything out there on the trail. I don't yet know how many more of these I will do in my life, but if the answer is zero, I am glad I did it at least once and glad that Deadman Peaks is the one I did. As it turned out I got 8th out of 53 starters (14 of which wouldn't make it the full distance), with a time of 10:48:08. What an amazing day.

Thank you to everyone that made this possible for me, I love you all.

-Cheers from the Vivác Family!

www.vivacwinery.com

Who's the boss?

I admire people running with a dog on a leash, the graceful animal gliding by their side. It looks like the kind of partnership one hopes they will have with "man's best friend" when they adopt that adorable puppy.

Often when I travel to other cities I witness this unity. It always inspires me to take my own beast out for a run. Unfortunately for everyone that lives in the rural communities of New Mexico, leashes are a rarity, thought of more like an act of cruelty "tampering with the animal's true spirit". Evidently that true spirit is to be a total ass. I have only ever found taking my dog on a run results in dog fights with loose muts attacking us or an insane number of near misses as my spastic beast cuts in front of me or lags behind only to jolt forward into the back of my legs.

I tried to leash train (despite the apparent animal cruelty defense) only to spend the entire time fighting ferociously a terrorized animal hell bent on making me dizzy as he wrapped the leash around me and I had to spin quickly undone to avoid catastrophe!

Needless to say, a run with my dog is like a freak show. It is hard to get your heart rate up when you are standing in the middle of the road screaming profanities at an animal.

So, it is to all of you skilled leash runners that I raise a glass of our Dolcetto in a cheers! It is obvious that you are the boss, I evidently am the mere puppet for my beast.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Where Runs Go to Die

It is a dark, cool morning. The light of the flashlight scans the rocky road. It is quite except for the steady sound of breathing and a single pair of feet falling on the road.

Dirt changes to pavement and cars speed by in a tornado of heated air and exhaust. It is still a pitch black early morning sky.

Pavement is again dirt, illuminated by the brightening sky, and the call of various birds echoing off the surrounding rock mountains.

Ahead is a stretch of road that is called the Mesa. There is no electricity or running water to the smattering of houses here. The road is straight for the most part yet has the ability to become a mirage in several sections. The sun is up in full glory which revels the stark landscape. It is a place where runs come to die. Think of the place where the Onceler lives from the story "The Lorax". It is a place that drives the question "why am I doing this?" deep into one's soul.

Finally after narrowly surviving the war with the Mesa, the road transitions and the homestretch seems in striking distance.

Feet feel swollen and burn like running on hot coals. Toes feel sore and the insteps cramp. Thighs grip onto bone screaming for mercy and the heat from the sun boils what little reserve you have out the top of your head. Streams of fatigue streak your face as sweat pours uncontrollably from your body.

Tears, sobs and deep relief come with the last steps of this 34 mile run.

wait wait wait...you know there is no way in hell this was me right? My husband Jesse ran this run. I ate nutella on waffles while sipping lots of coffee and playing on Facebook!

His run was a test of epic proportions and I hope it tells him that he will not only complete his first Ultra at 54 miles, but will do great! I am so proud of him. I also can't wait till this is over and we can start running together again, I miss my coach.


-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.vivacwinery.com

Fueling the world with Vivác

As you all know, we have these fabulous "Fueled by Vivác" sports shirts that, should you run a race in the shirt and post a photo of you in the shirt with your bib number at the race on FB, we will give you a bottle of wine! Ya, we are just cool like that.

Needless to say, the shirts seem to be more and more popular. In part due to our sponsorships of various races around New Mexico...and of course the wine. Our partnership with Chasing 3 even garnered us an off shoot of our "Fueled by Vivac" with shirts for several of their races being "Fueled by Wine". The up coming Deadman Ultra is sponsored by us as is the Taos Balloon Rally; because even hot air balloons need wine! For Deadman, we feel anyone running 54 miles, off road, in the desert, will need LOTS of wine...and a medic...and more wine.

So, as we blanket the world in "Fueled by Vivác" shirts, spreading the love of running, biking, Tris, skiing...you name it, we have grown more accustom to the conversation of the winery being brought up as we run our races. Usually the conversation is other racers jokingly asking if we have any wine on us at that moment. Being the ever constant marketer, I do consider running with wine in a camel-back so I can give samples and business cards out during the race. Why just run when I could be working too? I like to multi-task.

I digress, what I want to tell you about is the Santa Fe half marathon Jesse just ran on Sunday. He had the usual fun chats about the winery (because we only race in our red, white or black "Fueled by Vivac" shirts), but as he got into the race he found a woman actually running in a "Fueled by Vivác" shirt! Jess approached the Puerto Rico to Santa Fe transplant with "nice shirt!" her reaction was one of zeal and great excitement as she recognized Jess as one of the wine makers and asked to have a photo taken with him. We later learned that Mariela is a wine club member too! How fun is that?

As he continued, passing runners like the bad-ass he is, he found our new Los Alamos friend, Scott, also in a "Fueled by Vivác" shirt, and the team Vivác took full effect. Nothing is more fun than seeing co-racers wearing our winery shirts! Scott will join Jess at the Deadman Ultra in October. I assume in the "Fueled by Vivác" shirt.

Jess finished the race in 1hr 30mins, a PR to say the least and I am pretty sure it was the boost of Team Vivác that gave him the extra kick. Or maybe it was all the wine the night before, you never know, they do call Pinot Noir the fountain of youth wine, maybe it is good for running! Just in case it was the wine, I will pack extra Pinot for Deadman.

Treadmill Training

Treadmills should come with a warning. Not because they are dangerous in the way you are thinking, but because they seriously alter the way you run!

As I stepped onto the treadmill the other day, headphones on and plugged in, channel selected on the near by TV, I found my body settle into the familiar routine of running. The gentle glide under my feet and cushion in my knees, a fan blowing in my face cooling the drops of sweat...ahhh, running.

Disrespectfully the damn thing jerked me into a vicious incline and due to it being a treadmill it decided I would keep my pace as I raced up the "hill" and also due to it being a treadmill, I was tethered uncomfortably close to the operation panel by my headphone cord!

I hate interval settings.

After that ridiculous experience, a long summer of indoor running, and a glass (alright a bottle!) of wine, I realized that I could hit the actual pavement in the cool Fall air. I wouldn't be tethered to anything, but rather feel free to glide on the road, changing my pace any time I wanted. Free to stop for a sip of water rather than the gymnastics jump I execute on a treadmill to escape being jerked off the relentless spinning track. However, the sip of water will now need to be a handheld bottle...that I will have to run with. I wonder if Jess will run with me? I need him to hold my water.

The next day, I hit the road. As I ran, the hard surface wore at my knee joints. My iPod bored me with music that just wasn't quite right. I missed my "shows", the crappy TV I allow myself to watch while on the treadmill; it makes an hour fly by. My water bottle was really heavy too, Jess had not come with me. I also had to sprint from a very aggressive mini dog. I was miserable. That is when I realized it had only been 20mins.

I needed to meditate if i was going to get through this. Deep breaths. Settle in. My body relaxed into the familiar rhythm and like Pavlov's dog, my head gently veered to the left. I didn't realize it for a while, but as my right side narrowly escaped a close encounter with a car, I realized this was not normal. While most road runners stare down the road ahead of them, treadmill runners run with their head off to one side...as trained by the placement of the TV they watch! This does not apply to those of you that go to fancy gyms with the treadmills that have personal TVs. We live in Northern NM where you are lucky to find a gym that has a TV in it at all!

After a Forest Gump type of run, I decided the treadmill sounded appealing again. Like being called home. Running outside had proven to be highly over rated! So I again saddled up, water in my treadmill holster, cell phone in place, headphones plugged in and that glorious crap TV show blaring in my ears. My feet hit the soft whirring track and I was off...comfortable 45 degree turn to the left in my neck.

Suddenly with a loud smack and various groaning, I was pulled from my reverie. Like a fine tuned gymnast, I grabbed the side rails of the treadmill, pushed myself up and sprung my feet to a perfect 10 landing on either side of my spinning track, a slight slack in my headphone tether. I asked the tangled lump of person and headphone cord on the treadmill next to me if they were OK. "ya, ya...just not use to running with my head turned to the side!"
Newbie.

Crushing the Marathon

The Marathon of wine making is Crush. This is the time when we have grapes coming in from vineyards in the southern part of the state, our own private Estate vineyards need to be pruned, netted, harvested and then each varietal needs to be crushed, fermented, maintained, lab tested and aged. In order to make room for the new wines coming in, we need to bottle older wines! We do everything by hand so the bottling, corking and labeling is a lot of work. Mix in our regular duties of running a business and the day to day of distribution, sales, wine clubs and employees, we find ourselves in a scramble...of course we need to do it all with various events, festivals, trade shows and parties thrown in to boot! Now add to that...we have young children.

So you ask, how is the running coming along? What race do you have next? My answer is, I am in it! We literally have a constant freight train of work coming through for 3 months, after that it is more like a scenic touring train...manageable and pleasant. Jesse manages to run during this chaos, but has to do it at 4am! The rest of us try to wring out every last drop of sleep, it is rare and should be cherished.

Today we host our Annual Picking Party for the "Fire Vineyard". This event has gotten better and better each year. This will be the second year that we welcome Chef Ky Quintanilla of Lambert's Taos. Chef Ky is hands down the most incredible, inventive chef we know and his 4 course lunches on our patio are astonishing.

Bright and early, everyone starts picking grapes in the vineyard with the wine makers, which gives you the feeling of truly being a part of the magic you enjoy in the bottle. Think of it as the start of a race where you run as a sea of people, individual yet flowing through the street. Each cluster of grapes picked by your hand will be transformed into art in a bottle.

It is at lunch that you receive the lavish indulgence of that art. Wine generously pours, paired with each decadent course Chef Ky has created. Seated under the apple tress, you are welcomed into our home and our families. It is similar to how 1st time Marathoners find they are part of an inner circle of people that few get to see. We thank each new friend at the end of lunch and send them off with a bottle of last year's vintage of "Fire Vineyard" wine, a reminder of what they have helped make.

So you can see, the Marathon is under way, and while you may ask why we do it, it is no different than the reason why we run. Because we have to.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.vivacwinery.com