July 25, 2013

Review : Camelbak Marathoner Vest

  • Type : Hydration
  • Use : Road / trail running 
  • Price : $100

Introduction
As I try and test more hydration vests, I come to realize that more isn’t necessarily better. In the increasingly crowded space of hydration products, it seems like every company out there has come with a solution of their own. Don’t get me wrong, some of them are really good, especially if your budget is unlimited, but I’ve come to find it’s not the exotic, fancy features that make a really good hydration vest.

I’ve said it before, my usual point of reference when testing a vest is the Nathan Endurance, which I about wore to shreds. It convinced me that a good vest needs to fulfill certain imperatives, such as:

  • Quick, no-hassle bladder management (filling, fitting, cleaning)
  • No or minimal swinging and sloshing
  • Leak-proof
  • Lightweight
  • Optimal storage

Even though Camelbak's Marathoner vest felt, at first glance, like the little brother of the Ultra LR, I gave it a good couple long-distance runs in various environments to see if it was up for the task.

Road and trail test
The first obvious difference between the Marathoner and the Ultra LR is bulk. At two-thirds of the weight, the Marathoner actually feels like less than half of the bigger, more backpack-like Ultra. It uses the simplest of designs; two shoulder pads connected to the bladder by a single v-shaped adjustment strap. The 2-liter (70 oz) pouch itself is also a standard, upright design, with the signature huge screw-in cap that makes all Camelbak bladders instantly recognizable.

Adjusting the vest is key to making sure it stays comfortable and won’t swing around. This is done by removing the bladder and sliding the shoulder pads in or out, then securing them with Velcro bands. The double frontal straps can be adjusted by sliding them along most of the length of the shoulder pads, then adjusting the clips. I think there is enough room here to fit any chest type, a feature female runners of all sizes should very much enjoy.

Even though the Marathoner sheds the two belt pockets found on the Ultra, it offers ample storage space with its two very large chest pockets, which can easily accommodate extra bottles if needed. The genius of the Marathoner resides in the mesh fabric that covers the shoulder straps. A slit in the fabric allows you to slide anything you want inside the shoulder pads, from extra gels to arm warmers to a set of keys (and they won’t jiggle).

Analysis
Wearing and using the Marathoner on the run is a breeze. It sits very lightly on the shoulders and doesn’t swing around. It features two clips to hold the drinking tube along the right shoulder pad, but I prefer to use only the upper clip, then run the tube across my chest and hold the bite-valve with the bungee cord on the left pad.

I never suffered any shortage of storage space, even in longer runs up to 20-25 miles. The mesh pocket on the back can even carry an extra piece of clothing if needed, which makes it suitable for trail runs in changing environments. When running in the city at night, I also appreciated the multiple reflective bands in the front and the back of the vest.

Where the Marathoner really shines, in my opinion, is in the bladder management. I’ve said it before, the proprietary Antidote system is probably the best in the industry, with its click-valve to remove the drinking tube without any spills and its huge screw cap that anyone, even an exhausted ultra runner in their darkest hour, can easily operate. Furthermore, since the Marathoner’s bladder is the standard, vertical type, it’s even easier to remove and replace than the “lumbar” version of the Ultra LR, which is sometimes too exotic for aid station helpers to quickly figure out and can prove a hassle.

Conclusion
I have come to like the Marathoner better than the Ultra LR, as it is simpler, lighter and offers plenty of storage for my needs, with the added benefit of being significantly cheaper. Whereas the Ultra LR is somewhat unique as a mix between a vest and a pack, I think that runners who have the luxury of owning both a vest and a running backpack will appreciate the lighter weight and simplicity of the Marathoner on their long runs, whether on the roads or trails.

High points
  • Simple, efficient no-frills design
  • Excellent bladder and click-valve system
  • Multiple adjustments for an optimal fit
  • Clever mesh pockets along the shoulder pads
  • Very appealing price at around $100

Low points
  • Maybe not as roomy as other, larger vests






The equipment for this personal review was supplied by Camelbak free of charge, without any conditions.

July 22, 2013

The Train of Life

Photo credit: Sylvie Vachon
Usually, when we go for a run, we answer a call from our bodies to go out and play, breathe and enjoy some time out in nature. Yesterday, hundreds of runners answered another type of call. We gathered in the village of Nantes, where about two weeks ago, a train filled with gasoline was left unguarded for the night, broke loose from its brakes and started a deadly descent to the town of Lac-Mégantic, where it derailed, exploded and killed in excess of 50 people, most of whom were enjoying a happy night with friends at a local bar.

Since that fatal night, all we hear about is desolation, grief and destruction. A local journalist and runner, wondering what he could do to bring at least some measure of relief to the disaster-stricken people, decided to call upon runners from all over Quebec to bring moments of kinship and support to our brothers and sisters of Lac-Mégantic.

The symbol was powerful; instead of a train of death hurling down the hill from Nantes in the night, a lively, colorful train of running people took the same route under the sun to bring much-needed hope and smiles, if only for a brief moment.

I was unsure I could make the trip until the very last moment, when my friends Nick and Josée suggested we share the ride down and join other friends on site. It took only a few minutes before we bumped into Jack, Sylvie and a group of friendly runners we ended up running the whole distance with.

Photo credit: Robert Skinner, La Presse
Among the crowd, running people from everywhere, men, women and children alike. There was even a stop that was planned at the 8k mark, so that the group could pick up non-runners and walkers who wanted to join the demonstration.

Upon entering the town, rows of people had lined up to welcome us, waving, smiling and wiping tears. We smiled back, cheered, blew kisses and gave high fives all the way, until the crowd and the long line of runners blended together in the town’s park where, for a moment, it seemed that all was right again on the hills of beautiful Mégantic.



Readers who would like to help in the emergency efforts at Lac-Mégantic can donate to the Canadian Red Cross Relief Fund.

July 12, 2013

Game Changers

My friends at Tribesports have asked me an interesting question. They are in the midst of a feature they call “Game Changers”, which tries to highlight the exceptional people who have had such an influence on their sport that they actually brought some change into either how the sport was played or how it was perceived.

As an example, they mentioned Roger Bannister, who ran the first sub-4 minute mile, explaining the he had proven to Humanity that we could be faster than was reputed impossible, if we worked hard enough for it.


Then they asked me if I knew a Game Changer in running. It didn’t take me very long to answer. Not only do I know one, but I actually had the privilege of running with him and spending some time in the land he helped the rest of the world discover. I am, of course, talking about Caballo Blanco, Micah True.

Let me start right away by saying he would hate this article if he read it, scoff and call it all sorts of awful names. He would say that having an influence in the world of running is the last thing he wanted, that people should make their own minds and blaze their own paths. And that, in part, was the true genius of Micah; never would he tell anyone to do anything. He just did what he did, followed his heart and his vision and waited for no one to follow.

Caballo Blanco started ultra-running over 20 years ago, way before it was cool and probably before it was even recognized as a sport in itself. He would just hit the trails and run for hours, exploring the capabilities of his body and mind, reflecting on many things and setting his fiery heart back to a peaceful state. All the while, he was also looking for purpose, for a higher meaning to life. He was convinced somehow, there had to be a way for running to become not only a way of life, but the essence of a meaningful existence.

He kept running for years with this idea in mind, reflecting, searching, until the day providence made him cross paths with the Tarahumara. Within a couple hours of running with Martimiano Cervantes in the 1993 Leadville race which would change everything, Micah discovered a civilization that was in almost every way aligned on his yearning for a different world.

He never saw the Tarahumara as superhuman, half gods or anything of the sort. He recognized them as brothers and sisters, and felt a deep kinship with these proud, yet very humble people who kept mostly to themselves, favored peace over conflict and lived quietly in harmony with the earth. And in all the following years, when he travelled to the Copper Canyons and slowly made contact with the Tarahumara, it’s his humble respect that served as an ambassador and, ultimately, as the gateway to a most unusual connection.

When he was introduced to the world, clumsily, by an otherwise fascinating book, his reaction was not to live out his newly-acquired fame or to try and build a fortune around it. He simply, humbly recognized that he had been given a voice, and he decided to use it to carry a simple message. After years of exploring, by himself, with others and among the Tarahumara, he had distilled the essence of running down to a powerful principle, a philosophy so pure and simple that it stood in only two, small words.

Run Free.

Go out into the world. Use your body as the vehicle it was always intended to be. Reawaken your DNA’s memory and make one with nature. Explore. Do not relinquish your own judgement at the profit of the experts or the merchants of the time. Make your own mind. Fail. Then try again. Invest time and effort into your running, with an open heart and a true interest. And you will get more than you ever expected.

He spent the last years of a life too short spreading this message, not by trying to convince anyone, but by incarnating it. The bridge he had created with an amazing people, he shared with an open heart as well with a vast family of kindred spirits from all around the world, which he christened “the most crazy”, the Mas Locos.

He left this world richer than when he joined it, with a cultural and spiritual connection so strong that he is recognized in Tarahumara culture as a genuine member of the tribe, as a true brother. His humble vision and philosophy, shared and spread by the Mas Locos, lives strong today as the race he created continues in the same spirit and more people every year join the ranks of those who run free, the Running People.

When you encounter a runner today who doesn’t wear a fancy GPS, doesn’t follow a training plan and is keener on talking about the experience of their run rather than the time it took them to complete it, chances are this person has been influenced, in some way or another, by Caballo Blanco and his beautiful, important message.

July 1, 2013

The Keeper of Memory


"My name is Kenan. It's easy to remember, it's like the camera, Canon. It's just not written the same."

Oh, God, I thought. I wasn't overly excited to be on a bus tour to start with, now I'm almost regretting it. I'm surrounded with various kinds of tourists, none seeming too interested with what our guide was about to say. However, standing alone under the blasting sun of Turkey's summer, talking with a soft voice, the man seemed unfazed.

My Belle and I had gotten to Eceabat, the gateway village to Gallipoli, not an hour before. Both interested with the history of this legendary First-World-War battlefield, we quickly realized there was no other way for us to visit it than to get on a tour bus, something I honestly dread.

"I have been a guide to many visitors over the last 27 years", he said, listing various high-ranking officials from all over the world. "I have been a university professor here in Turkey and I spent almost all my life researching and reading about Gallipoli."

Now here's someone who knows his subject, I reflected. But before I could start really fathoming what it means to dedicate one's lifetime to a place and time in History, Kenan started telling an epic tale that would last - and keep me captivated - for a full 5 hours.

With a calm, yet confident voice, he resumed the world's history of the early 1900's and the politics of the times. Insisting only on key events and actors, he managed to link together dozens of political, historical, geographical and tactical notions that shed a clear light on why this faraway Turkish peninsula was so important and coveted by the many powers of the world.

I was spellbound. Fascinated. Knowing how easy it is to get lost in details, I couldn't help but be amazed at the ease with which the man was going forward, back and sideways in History to guide a bunch of ignorants through one of the most important events of the last century.

When it got down to the fighting accounts, it became evident to me that I was having the privilege of being taught by a true scholar, a man of immense knowledge who never lost sight of the genuine human meaning of the events he is explaining.

Never glorifiying battle, he went on to describe the tragedy, the horrible loss of life on both sides, the abysmal misery that prevailed during the siege and the birth of both the Turkish legend Ataturk and the first sense of Australia's national identity through its military involvement.

As the story unfolded, Kenan made sure to highlight the utmost important aspect of Gallipoli's somber history; shining beacons of light at the worst hours of darkness, acts of profound humanity in the middle of hellish nonsense.

He told the story of an unknown "Johnny Turk" who got out of his own trench, deadly bullets flying everywhere, to pick up an agonizing enemy and carry him back to his side, then returning to his own trench. He told another story of a an Allied soldier who started singing in the trenches every night, stopping only to let a Turk from the other side, mere meters away, offer songs of his own for nights in a row until he got killed and all trenches became silent.

Tales of acts not of military bravery, but of deep humanity and kinship that instilled an unheard attitude of respect on both sides, even as the fiercest, cruelest of battles raged on for months.

As we visited a memorial cemetary called Lone Pine, the visitors spread out to take pictures and walk around a little bit. I sat down on a rock wall next to my guide and spent some silent, contemplating moments in his company, then I turned to him and bowed my head.

"You are a Keeper of Knowledge. What you do is very important." He humbly smiled and nodded. "I wanted to thank you for sharing your knowledge with me." Nothing more was said.

When the time came to leave, he gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder, pointed his head to another hill and simply said "Let's go."

The rest of the day went on, with Kenan calmly explaining the unfolding of one of the worst military endeavours in modern history, always giving emphasis to the importance for Humanity to learn the crucial lessons this event held for the future.

Through war, the man was giving a lesson of peace. Through tales of international significance, he was shedding light on the unwavering flame of humanity that lives inside the humblest of individuals, no matter how dark the hour. Through knowledge, he was acting as a barrier of wisdom to prevent anyone visiting this site from being engulfed into military rhetoric or the false prides of national heroism.

On our last stop, he told a quick tale about a trench runner, an unarmed soldier whose responsibility was to carry messages to and from the trenches. As the tourists were spreading out to take their last pictures before day's end, I went to Kenan and asked about the runners again.

"That's what I do, you know. Run."

"Hmmm. Very good. I used to be a shot putter when I was younger. Very active", he replied.

"Ah, a strong body AND  a strong mind", I said, smiling.

He looked at me with a tender smile, yet straight in the eyes. Like he needed to remind me of something of extreme importance. As gently as always, he came closer to me, marked a pause and gave me my final lesson for the day.

"That's what Hitler said."


This post is an homage to Mr Kenan Çelik, whom you can find most every day at Hotel "Crowded House" in Eceabat,  Turkey.