HR Workout Thoughts

Typically I've kind of zoned out (no pun intended) when I've heard talk of heart rates in training. I don't "train" to speak of and I rarely race, although I like some challenge to my running.


However, something caught my eye recently in GZ's post of his discussions with Lucho on training, and that was the phrase "utilize fat as fuel". This stood out to me because it fits with my low-carb diet, and I find the physiology behind low-carb eating logical and effective.

I've also been trying to fit that diet into running, an activity that historically has worshipped at the altar of carbohydrates, in the form of carb loading before races, using gels for energy, etc. I found the notion of training the body to use fat as an energy source very interesting.

And of course there's the overall advantage of increasing base conditioning and the ability to maintain a given speed for longer. I'd like to begin pushing that envelope a bit.

So, recently I've spent some time absorbing posts on this topic with more interest.

Wednesday I did my first run in a long time using the Forerunner 405's heart rate monitor. The last time was on La Plata Peak a couple of years ago. I had never really attached actual heart rates to the perceptions I've had at different running speeds until now, but there were some definite correlations between my experience and the concept of maximum aerobic heart rate (MAHR). Observations:

• Using the calculation of 180 minus my age, my MAHR is 131 (+/-5 bpm). I sorted out a final value during the run, and chose 135 because it's right below where I start having to take occasional deep breaths to catch up on air.
• When I felt the need to take a deep breath, I knew I was pushing 140 bpm and getting out of range. Like clockwork. That's good, because it gives me some intuitive measure of heart rate without a monitor.
• On the relatively flat eastern sections of Bluestem and So. Boulder Creek (west of Highway 93) I was at about 7:30 pace downhill and 9:15 uphill at 135 bpm. Taking the average of the two paces, I figure that's about 8:20 on level ground when fresh.
• The center of my target (131-ish) is pretty much what I've typically regarded as my "endurance" pace, because it's sustainable over a long period. That makes perfect sense now.
• Trying to keep a constant heart rate made for really slow uphills, and downhills that were at a faster tempo than I expected.
• I like the fact that this gives running at a slow pace some purpose, rather than just being slow :)
• I also like the fact that it provides a reason to run at a pace that is comfortable and enjoyable. MAHR pace was already my favorite running speed. However, I was running harder uphill and not fast enough on downhill to maintain that HR consistently.
• Apparently MAHR is the pace I tend to run uphill at high altitude. When I wore the HR monitor on La Plata my max was 149 even though I ran a significant amount of it (slowly). I find it fascinating that this number is so close to the number from this evening. Obviously I just dialed back my pace until I was aerobic, based on how I felt, without knowing about MAHR.

Wednesday's run was 5+ miles, and I look forward to doing some longer runs with the monitor to see the interplay between HR and pace over different terrain and distances.

Tracing A Wildfire

Last night on the drive home, on Colorado Public Radio, I heard some answers to a question that had occurred to me lately in the wake of recent Front Range wildfires: how do investigators pinpoint the source of a forest fire amidst all the charred remains?

This interesting interview provides some insight from Forest Service special agent Brenda Schultz, for example:

• The height of the char on the various sides of trees gives an indication of the direction of the fire. The higher side of the char is the direction of the wind (i.e. from low to high), and therefore the fire.
• At the start of a fire, the flames are moderate and burn the base of stalks of grass, and the stalk can actually fall facing towards the source of the fire.

Grass stalks pointing to the center of the fire? That's wild. In burned areas such as Pine Valley Ranch and Green Mountain in Lakewood, all I remember seeing is homogenous burnt earth and/or tree stumps. I'll have to look more closely next time.

Three Sisters Bouldering

I had family in town this weekend, so activities deviated somewhat from the usual weekend outdoor schedule. On Saturday, it was a trip over to Red Rocks for a short hike (we had 2- and 5-year olds along). Afterwards was lunch at a very busy Woody's in Golden, which violated both my low-carb habits and my usual spirit of moderation, via the $9.99 buffet. It was garlicky, IPA-washed heaven. However, I was so full that I could not muster a trail run even several hours later.

Instead, after a mellowing walk in Golden on some brand-new paved trails, I drove up to Alderfer/Three Sisters in Evergreen. I ended up bouldering a bit, and at some point decided I'd climb to the top of each rock formation in the park. Rather than 3 sisters, this ended up being more of an extended family, with at least 7 distinct rocky outcroppings.


The formations are very moderate but fun climbing. Here's the view from the rocks near the upper parking lot:


This rocky shelf was part way down. It would make a nice patio if I lived on these rocks:


Second up was an outcropping just downhill from the first, which is across the trail that passes behind the main formation:


From the same rocks, this is the view over to the 3 Sisters:


To get there, you take two trails through the pine trees in between, and the trail gradually slopes upward and passes in between the leftmost two outcroppings. I think this is from the first sister's "neck":


A couple of times late in the day I've seen a red fox doing bouldering of its own on the easternmost sister, and I half expected to see it. It didn't make an appearance. I'm not sure if it lives here, or just hunts here, or both.

At this point I frankly lose track of which rocks these are, but each one was slightly different and interesting. The view from the top was high enough to be fun, but exposure was minimal. There's a trail in somewhere in those trees:


This is the view east towards Evergreen:


The view on the way down, of the middle sister:


Another view east with Evergreen Lake visible in the shadows:


Sitting on these rocks, listening only to dogs barking in the countryside, and to the crunching of granite gravel under distant feet, is amazingly peaceful.

By the time I got the last couple of formations, my pizza child had subsided, and I started jogging between them, and was able to run back to the parking lot. It seemed that against all odds I would eat again another day.

Objectivist Round Up

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Flatirons Silhouette

Not a dramatic scene, more in the spirit of Monet's haystacks, or Caspar David Friedrich, than an archetypal western Romantic like Thomas Moran. But from this bluff, you feel the space between the overlook and the mountains, the expanse of the sky, and the falling quiet of evening.


I'm grateful to have already had a lifetime of great runs and hikes in those hills, in just the past 4 years.

And from the look of it, you would never know that this was taken from a pull-off on busy Highway 93 south of Boulder. Almost every time I go by, at all times of day, someone has pulled over to take a picture. No wonder.

Colorful Bear-itory

This picture is from Boulder's Gregory Canyon, at the beginning of the Saddle Rock trail. This is near where people were watching a black bear forage a few weeks ago, causing me turn around and take an alternate route. There are berries, and apples such as the ones in the upper center of this photo, right above the trail (and dropping onto it). Bear scat is everywhere here.


The trail winds through this overgrown bear heaven, and I'm just waiting to run around one of these blind corners some day and get a nice furry hug.

Hence my habit of clapping or otherwise making noise when I run through this stretch.

But I do like the colors. Colorado doesn't have a lot of red fall trees (they're mostly yellow), but there are quite a few red bushes and plants in the fall. Sumac is one, Poison Ivy (yay!), and various other plants. On Sunday Buchanan Pass was flush with ground cover in various shades of yellow, orange and red. The aspens are already turning in the Indian Peaks. Fall is off to a good start.

Meadow View At Dusk

This is the view from an opening in the pines along the Meadow View trail at Elk Meadow in Evergreen, CO on Tuesday. The views from the hill over the meadow and Highway 74 change all day/year long, so I don't seem to tire of it. That's Mount Morrison in the background.


This was a short run on sore muscles from a long run on Sunday. I took Monday off and did a lot of stretching and rolling, so there wasn't much tightness, mostly some soreness on the outsides of the quads where they blend into tendons. I felt pretty strong.

Buchanan/Pawnee Loop Run - Reactions

Wow. This run was tough.

On Sunday I finally ran the Buchanan Pass/Pawnee Pass loop described by Anton Krupicka above and others such as Jaime at Always Running Trails, and Jim P (Jim ran it in the opposite direction, which I would now recommend as the better choice, since the ascents get smaller in that direction).

I wanted to post my reactions first, because they're fresh in my mind, and prepping the many photos will take a while. It was a cloudless day, so that should bode well for photography.

I'm happy to have completed this run -- by sunset (!) -- which was my primary goal. I was prepared, had estimated the time, packed perfect gear except for the wind jacket (it was too hot, no need for that), and even bought a Katadyne Hiker filter, since I knew my two bottles of water wouldn't last. I sure hope it worked, since I drank about 7 bottles of filtered water ;)

Although some of the scenery was typical and familiar by now, the Cascade Creek valley was simply unreal. Lone Eagle Peak (below), and the surrounding mountains are like something out of a dream. They are toothy, rugged and tower over the valley. Here's a taste:


However, this loop was hard. Quite frankly, I was nearly in over my head on this one.

It's the first run I've done in a while that I would not call "fun". Worthwhile? Yes. Enjoyable at times? Absolutely. Spectacular scenery? Definitely. But "fun" is just not a word I would use for such a difficult trail run, which nearly had me on my knees approaching the top of Pawnee Pass. I really felt like I was at the end of my rope at that point. So, a different descriptive terminology applies here. Here are the stats:

Time: 9:46:39
Distance: 26.46 mi
Elevation Gain: 6,828 ft

I was expecting 7:30-8:00, because I've been estimating about 150% of what competitive trail runners run on certain trails. I'm going to have to revise that percentage when the trails are longer and/or involve more vertical, because I'm just not that fast uphill. I'm simply stunned that Anton was able to run this in half the time I did. I hit the Cascade Creek junction (halfway) at almost exactly his FKT.

I knew this because I had his splits taped to my topo map, to make sure I was on track time-wise. That was a somewhat depressing thought at the time, because I was so far off on my estimate. It wasn't until I was within sight of Pawnee Pass that I realized I would make it before dark (I carry a headlamp now on long runs)!

For those of you who are thinking of running this loop, for comparison I think I can safely say it's harder than a Pike's Peak summit (which is similar in distance), and there are a couple of reasons why.

1. First, much of the terrain is not great for running; Pikes Peak is like a paved bike path by comparison. There are the trademark Indian Peaks round rocks on slippery gravel. There are willows to scrape your legs, tree roots to trip you, and trails so narrow and rugged you wonder if they've been used lately.
2. Second, the run has ascents in inconvenient places. I ran it counter-clockwise, so Pawnee Pass came last at about mile 21, and it wiped me out. And I was hiking by that point. Granted I don't do this all the time, but compared to Pikes which is "all" downhill in its second half, it's tough. This should illustrate why:
   
   
   Then again, if you are training for Leadville, it's perfect.

I recommend reading the above bloggers' posts, because their observations were echoed perfectly by my own experience. From Anton:

This is an absurdly arduous and scenic classic circuit through the heart of the Indian Peaks Wilderness

Trust me, the word "arduous" echoed around in my head quite a bit during my nearly 10 hours on this loop.

More later.

Devils Thumb Run

This is about I run I did in August in the Indian Peaks, up the Devils Thumb trail and around and over past Rollins Pass. The Devils Thumb trail has a nice variety of terrain, you can see over to Winter Park from the Continental Divide (upper left in the GPS track image), and I had never been down the other valley and wanted to see what it was like.


Total time was 4:44:40, distance 16.46 miles, gain/loss 3,329 ft.

This run starts from the Hessie Trailhead which is a bit of a liability in the summer on the weekend, because it's incredibly popular. This was the scene in the late morning by the time I got there:


Imagine SUVs and full-size trucks driving in two directions on the remaining dirt road, trying to pass each other. Needless to say I folded my side-view mirror in, and even then only made it by a couple of inches. It was nuts. I parked on a shady curve a little ways back down the road, on a wide shoulder, away from other vehicles!

If you have a really high-clearance vehicle, you can risk the murky, boulder-laden creek and park at the real trailhead in the meadow. However, there was a boulder that I guessed was at least 12" off the creek bed sticking out of the water, so didn't consider it.

The initial part of this trail passes through some really nice flat meadows as it follows Hessie Creek. This makes for great running and pleasant hiking with open views. I've seen people camping in the meadow; a great place to stop:


The trail follows several miles of jeep road as it gets higher and higher. You start to see the cliffs along the side, steep alpine meadows, and there's a mysterious spot where it looks like oil is leaking out of the ground naturally. There's a sheen to the water and it's stained the rocks brown. This view is from below Jasper Lake:


Jasper Lake itself is the destination for many hikers and campers. There are numbered campsites off the hiking trail, and there are always plenty of people here:


Some ingenious person created a chair on the lakeside out of a tree trunk and some rocks:


Above Jasper Lake, the terrain is a series of short rolling hills with hidden alpine meadows and ponds. It's hard not to get a good photo up here in nice weather, there's just so much material. The Devils Thumb rock formation is on the back of this unnamed ridge:


This is the view at the end of the valley. The trail goes up over the ridge off-screen on the far right, and the Corona Trail follows the ridge behind the peaks in the back. The return trip is to the left, two valleys over.


This is the view in the other direction. Note how nice the weather is at the moment, because that is about to change.


Below is another view of the ridge on the right, with the Devils Thumb sticking out on the left. If there's one truth that holds about place names, it's that every wild area in the U.S. has to have geographical features named after the Devil, preferably his body parts.


After getting about halfway up the ridge, I took this photo looking back down the valley:


Next is a view looking to the left from higher up on the ridge, almost at the top. I really like the rugged terrain up here. The trail meanders along some very steep slopes, and some stretches have drops right next to the trail, perhaps at a 70-degree slope; rugged, rocky terrain falling away to the valley below. If you are afraid of heights, it may not be the best trail for you. It's not death-defying, but it's enough for me to feel the tingle of adrenaline as I look down.


The view behind me, back towards the valley:


On the other side is the Fraser Valley, with the Winter Park ski area on the far left. This ridge is part of the Continental Divide. When I ran this trail the first time, due to my geographical unfamiliarity I had no idea this view was on the other side! It's 180 degrees worth of valley view like this:


At this point you can begin to see the weather deteriorating. It wasn't as apparent from the other side, but rain was brewing to the west and south. I sat down on the grass and had something to eat and drink, and then started out on the ill-defined trail. The only thing that marked the trail was a few widely-spaced cairns and the fact that the grass was trampled. I had also seen another runner head down this way:


I ended up catching up with him (he was taking it easy and I was running steadily), and it turns out he was a guy named Bruce who lives in nearby Nederland. He was planning on doing some fishing at King Lake, and had a collapsible rod in his pack. So, that's a 10-mile trail run over the Divide to fish. Man, you gotta love that; that's what I call a good day in the mountains!


This is the view towards Rollins Pass, which are the roads in the very back. It's always a surprise to hike or run and long way in the mountains, then find someone in a Jeep sitting there in a parking lot, having driven up a road in relative comfort.


The next photo is of King Lake. I was going to run to the end of the wooded valley in the back, which is about 2/3 of the total return trip to Hessie.


Bruce ended up bailing on the fishing due to the incoming weather, and we ran the King Lakes trail together. We were close in speed although he led most of the way; maybe he didn't want to be dropped on his home trails by a plains-dweller like me. Not that I could have; I was pretty beat by then anyway, and my legs were pounded. I probably could have used a bit more water. I stopped several times to stretch and that kept my legs from getting too tight and pulling my knee cap out of alignment. I find this usually gets me to the end of the run with little in the way of side effects such as tendon or knee pain. Tightness causes Devils Knee ;)

The terrain around the lake is very uneven and interesting, with lots of willows and alpine vegetation, and small lakes. Too bad I didn't have the blue sky in the background any more, it would have been even more beautiful. Some day.


Here's a close-up of some of the flowers:


After 10 rugged miles, the King Lakes trail seemed long. I was glad to have a fellow runner to keep my mind occupied and off my tired legs. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice wooded singledtrack trail, and it would be perfect on a hot sunny day, or during light rain showers, but it's also less varied than Devils Thumb.

I don't have any pictures of the return trip because I was trying to keep up with Bruce. I found that I tended to run rough terrain more slowly, and flatter terrain more quickly, than he did. So he didn't pile up behind me on the muddy and technical stretches, I was content to follow behind him by about 15 yards. For me it was a bit more than easy conversational pace anyway! At the end of the trail we parted ways, he to his bike and me to my motorized vehicle.

Yeah, a bike. Addendum: Bruce biked from Ned to Hessie, then trail ran 10 miles up and across the Continental Divide so he could go fishing. Nice! I'm no slouch, but I think he was in better shape than I was.

This was a satisfying run on great terrain. Next time I'll take fewer breaks and see if I can improve on the time a bit. Garmin Connect had me at 45 minutes of just standing around, although as I've said before, Garmin and I don't necessarily see eye-to-eye on what constitutes "running". I don't think the web site is really geared towards trail running, with its vertical, twists, turns and hiking, which probably seem like stasis to its speed computations when compared to road running. Whatever. Speed is just icing on the cake. In the end, it's the fun that matters.

Objectivist Round Up

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Praying Mantis

This Praying Mantis was next to my car when I got back to the parking lot at White Ranch after my run Wednesday. It was getting dark, so I set my flashlight down on the ground to photograph it, but the pose makes it look like a security light caught it in the act of trying to sneak away.

Excuse me, do you have some identification?
It seemed more interested in my flashlight than the camera, and I could hear the sharp points on its arms scraping against the lens. Probably looking for the "off" switch. After taking a close look at its weaponry, I'm glad I'm a lot bigger than it is.

Hsieh On ObamaCare Re-Education

Dr. Paul Hsieh, a Colorado doctor and an advocate for freedom in medicine, has an essay at PajamasMedia.com on the efforts of the Obama administration to redefine opinion on their disastrous pet health care bill. One of the strategies is to make their intrusive coercions seem more palatable using nice, friendly words. Hsieh comments:

Liberal media outlets like National Public Radio are now trumpeting the supposed virtues of the "medical home," where primary care doctors and specialists theoretically coordinate their expertise to provide comprehensive, integrated care for patients. Even the phrase "medical home" has a warm-and-fuzzy feel. But under ObamaCare, "medical homes" will instead likely be used to control costs by using primary care doctors as gatekeepers to restrict access to expensive tests such as MRI scans, or to specialists such as cardiologists and orthopedic surgeons.

Patients will be herded into these new "medical home" plans under ObamaCare laws, which will start limiting employers’ ability to continue offering their current health plans.

Similarly, the government will nudge doctors into working for "medical homes" via a combination of financial rewards and penalties. Once there, the government will specify how doctors must practice and what "quality" measures they must meet in order to get paid.

Hence, under ObamaCare "medical homes" will be more like "medical government housing projects."

What a great characterization. Through all the complexity and politically manipulative verbiage, there is really only one thing Americans have to remember: all the grand medical schemes being proposed limit your choices by law. We are being asked to move from a medical industry that has been hampered and damaged by government-enforced lack of choice, to one that is even further damaged and restricted. It cannot work, on principle, no matter how much you tweak it.

The problem never was freedom. The problem is that the medical and insurance industries have not been free for decades, if ever.

Does anyone who grew up dealing with a family doctor in the 60s and 70s -- when you actually had a long-term, personal relationship with your family doctor (a lucky few may still have this) -- seriously think that we now have less government in medicine? So how can freedom be the cause of the industry's ills? The answer is clear: we are being told the opposite of the truth. The truth is that government intrusion is the disease, and freedom is the cure.

Two Shots Of Galbraith

I did a short but intense run at Mt. Galbraith at a strong pace Tuesday and felt good. This was a PR for the loop from the west parking lot.

Time: 46:32
Distance: 4.17 mi
Elevation Gain: 914 ft

P.S. - While getting ready for work, I noticed I have a nice pink abrasion on my shoulder from where I tagged a 5-inch tree trunk on the way down. Bam!

This is the view south from the back side, with Lookout Mountain in the background. Downtown Golden is in the valley, and all of metro Denver is on the plains to the left. It's mostly mountains to the right. You can tell the prevailing wind direction from the branches on the pine tree; it looks like it's being blown, but the wind was still when I took this picture.


This is near the parking lot at the end, with the sunlight rapidly disappearing.

Big Bluestem/South Boulder Sunset

On Monday evening I did my first run in a few days after a break due to a cold. I wanted something where I didn't have to worry about footing, since I'd been taking some cold medicine and wasn't sure of my balance yet. So, I picked the Big Bluestem and South Boulder Creek trails, which are relatively flat*. It turned out to be a non-issue, but better safe than sorry. I lucked out and got a light show as I ran along the foothills:


Views like this are why I run outside the city, flying down old farm roads instead of bike paths and sidewalks. I've run my share of bike paths over the years, and they can be great too, but I definitely gravitate towards the open spaces when they're available. Plus, dodging the cow manure helps with foot dexterity.

*It ended up being 700 feet of gain/loss. It's flat for around here.

Down Time

My sore throat from Tuesday developed (as it nearly always does) into a head and chest cold the rest of the week, so I've been taking it really easy this weekend, i.e. no running. I'm pretty sure that any intense activity would only aggravate the situation, and I can still feel my body fighting the infection, which I think I'll dub "Antero Flu". A long day of playing at that mountain last Sunday, and driving to and from, is what stressed my body out enough to succumb.

I woke to an utterly cloudless day yesterday, and realized that on one of the most perfect weekends of the year I won't be doing any outings in the mountains :( From yesterday:


I didn't see a single cloud all day long. Not on any mountain, on any horizon; nowhere. The last time I saw that was when I was driving to Santa Fe, and at sunset the glow from the sun behind the horizon stretched upward in a totally featureless glow so lacking in detail that my eyes were playing tricks on me, and I was imagining patterns that weren't there (no, I hadn't consumed any psychoactive substances).

I slept 12 hours each of the last 2 days. Hopefully that will help and I can get going again this week.

Meanwhile, I've been doing mundane things like backing up my photos to DVD. I have network attached storage (NAS) that I back my laptop up to, but I also need to take some snapshots onto more permanent -- and possibly off-site -- media, because things can and will be deleted. Once I accidentally zapped a year and half's worth of images. Ouch. Admins, beware of the robocopy.exe "/PURGE" switch; it can bite you hard.

I managed to have a nice lunch at Southern Sun. The new batch of Wet-hopped XXX Pale Ale is awesome.

And I went for a walk on the trails near Chautauqua, just meandering all over, avoiding two groups of incredibly loud male students who sounded like they decided to get drunk and go for a hike. Must be a CU pastime. Lots of apples on the ground, which always makes me nervous, but no bears today. Probably scared away by the students.


These blue asters were out, which reminds me it's time to check the Big Bluestem trail, because that whole field is nothing but blue chicory. I hope I'm not too late again.


Well, time to get moving and out of the house.

P.S. - Note to self: try getting the 12 hours of sleep the first two days of the cold, instead of several days into it after it's flared up. It's just hard for me to stay put, what can I say?

Castle Rock Run

This is a run I did on vacation, to the top of a rock formation north of Durango, CO. The run occurs mostly on the Elbert Creek Trail, but near the top the trail branches right and tops out on the cliffs above Highway 550. The satellite imagery shows winter, but there is currently very little snow on the mountains and the cliff bands are covered with green aspen groves.


Total distance was 5.16 miles, time 1:29, elevation gain/loss 1,644 ft.

This is a great hike/run within a short distance of Durango that gets you into some higher terrain without actually going all the way up to Engineer Mountain or the passes. The trailhead is not readily visible but is to the left of the gas station before Purgatory Ski Area, 22 miles north of the light at 32nd & Main Ave in Durango. The trail is marked "Elbert Creek Trail" and you go through a couple of cattle gates to get in.


Castle Rock is the formation in the middle:


The first part of this trail consists of switchbacks through aspens, which would be amazing in the fall. I really need to plan a trip at the end of September some time, because this entire hill side would be lit up in shades of yellow.


After several switchbacks up the front of the hill, the trail heads around to the left and up a valley. At roughly mile 1.7, the trail passes an old cabin and empties into a meadow that is often full of wildflowers. This time I happened to hit it during sort of a lull, but there were still flowers to be found. This meadow contains the first steep parts of the trail, which I usually hike instead of run:


This is the view looking back down on the meadow before disappearing into the pine woods above:


The trail then ascends through the woods for a while, where the feeling is distinctly more alpine, with rocks, moss, mushrooms, and cooler temperatures. It's also where my brother nearly crossed paths with a bear and her cubs, and made a hasty retreat.


At this point the payoff is near, and it's only a couple of tenths of a mile to the edge of the cliffs. When you finally reach the top, you get an amazing view down on the highway and across the valley to the Needles. If you zoom in you can see the tooth-like Pigeon Peak in the middle.


A view of the slopes below and to the left:


This is the view up the valley to the left. The dark peak in the middle is the humbly-named Potato Hill. The town of Silverton is in this direction.


This is the view down highway 550 towards Durango, with Electra Lake on the left:


I would start on this trail early in the day, because these hills get lots of weather in the afternoon, like clockwork. I was caught in the wettest hike/run of my life on this trail last summer, when I failed to heed the gray clouds above (I was also hiking with family instead of running, which affects the timing of course). When it rains, the middle of the trail turns into a stream all the way down and gets pretty slick in places, notably the meadow at the top and certain steeper areas in the woods. Or, go when the forecast says only "Sunny" rather than a certain percentage of rain. That usually means a dry day even up in the mountains.