Run Swiftly Through the Low Points ~

We all mourn losses.  Give your life enough years, and you will mourn many too, if you haven't already.  I'm not very old by any means, but I feel that I've had more than my fair share of loss.  I try to tell myself that loss makes me stronger.  It makes me appreciate the good times even more.  It's good to feel low because it makes the highs feel even higher.

A couple of weeks ago was Mother's Day, and as I wrote before, I took it even harder this year than most years.  Not really sure why, as my life has been going really well lately.  Maybe that's the time when [God, the universe, etc.] decides to knock you down a notch.  That's what I feel like happened to me.  I found myself on the Wednesday after Mother's Day still crying about my mom.  Not sobbing uncontrollably, mind you.  Just getting a bit teary-eyed a couple of times a day, and missing her.  I started wondering what my problem was.  It's times like this that I turn to my friends for support.  I have some great friends.  My girlfriends are the best, and take me out running and to coffee, even when they have other plans for the day they seem to fit me in and take care of me.  This type of friendship is even more appreciated because I don't have a mom to turn to.

I also had just been on a great trip to California with my running partner of the last year.  We had an amazing long-weekend running the trails of Mill Valley and eating good food.  We attended a wedding reception in Napa.  It was a great weekend with lots and lots of miles.

After getting back from the California trip soon afterwards was Mother's Day, and soon after my running partner seemed to not really want to run with me anymore.  I invited him on a couple of runs and he said no (he said yes to one, but seemed out of sorts and not very interested to run with me).  He set up runs with other people and didn't invite me along.  I took it personally.  Despite being a physically strong person, I am emotionally pretty sensitive.  He was running with other people and I was running by myself, so I started running with other people too.  But I wanted to run with him.  I couldn't figure out what was going on.

I had a few 20-milers stacked up on my training plan, and I figured it would be easier to motivate and get through them if I had friends along.  I invited a handful of friends, my running partner of the last year being one of them.  A day later, I got a curt reply, something to the effect that he would be running similar mileage, but that I was too slow of a runner for him to go out with... huh?  I took offense.  I admit it.  I reacted defensively and emotionally.  How could I not?  I was missing my mom and I just wanted to go run with my friend.  Here he was being what I felt was insensitive and selfish.

Needless to say, the conversation turned brutal.  The more I reacted to his insensitivities, the more harsh he got.  I can only explain this as him trying to assert some "tough love", which I was not in any place to accept.  I was too hurt, and the more the conversation escalated, the more hurt I became.  He would "text bomb" me, saying that, "This is how it is.  No negotiations.  You are not allowed to comment, as I will not respond to your texts if you reply."  What?!?  I am still trying to understand this flip in his attitude.  A supportive friend and running partner over the last year has suddenly, inexplicable dumped me.  Some of the things he said to me were downright cruel and not worth repeating.

It hurts.  It's sad.  All I can say is, whatever he might be going through to display this type of behavior to a friend, I feel sorry for him.  It's unacceptable as far as I'm concerned.  You don't treat friends like that.  I asked for a little bit of support and explanation and I got, "I'm too busy for you and I'm not willing to listen to your sob story."  Wow.

I've received a lot of support through this from other friends which is very comforting.  It will take some time for this sting to stop burning.  I absolutely hate it when friendships fall apart.  I want to believe that there is a bigger reason for this.  I want to know if I could have done anything differently and supported him more, but I'm resigned to the fact that he is angry and I may never know.

Lonesome Heart ~ Mom's Week?

Doggie destruction ~

As I struggled with the bobbin on the sewing machine, I thought to myself, "Mom would know how to fix this!  Stupid sewing machine.  This is the most finicky sewing machine I've ever used!"  I struggled with it for 20 minutes, then finally got it to work.  I was attempting to sew up the holes that my dog had chewed in my backpack, the one I use everyday to go to and from work and carry my lunch.

My mom taught me how to sew.  We spent countless afternoons sewing in the "little room", a den in our Michigan farmhouse.  She also taught me to pack my lunch everyday.  It's rare to have a day that I don't bring my own lunch to work.

This Mother's Day hit me a little harder than most years.  I'm not really sure why.  I started out getting some old photo albums out so that I could scan and post some photos, and ended up crying, looking at how happy I was alongside my mom and the rest of my family.  I really miss being a kid growing up in the Midwest.  So much has changed.  Ahh, adulthood! It feels kind of surreal to think that we live this life trying to find a purpose in it.  Meeting new people and thinking of our future and our past.  I do like to think of how past and future collide in the present.

Patch job ~

Why was I sewing up my backpack at 9pm?  I had gone to an Honors for Nursing banquet (I was an invited guest, for my efforts as a preceptor for the University of Utah College of Nursing) and figured I would talk my friend Suzanne into going (she was also invited, but a little on the fence over whether she wanted to go or not).  Unfortunately, the dogs did not want me to go, and I had left my backpack by the front door on the floor with the remnants of my lunch in it.  The smell of traces of food on the Tupperware were too intoxicating for Franklin to ignore, and he took the pack out the dog door into the back yard and proceeded to dismantle...

Franklin wearing my name tag,
attempting to make me smile.

I was so frustrated to find what I did when I got home.  I'd just had a lovely (free) dinner with friends and gotten a free umbrella, too!  And I come home to 3 pounds of organic sweet potatoes gone, a Tupperware chewed up, and a favorite backpack with holes in it.  I threw the backpack in the trash, but then retrieved it and resolved to put my skills to work on it.  The whole time, as I struggled with the sewing machine, I thought, "Mom would be able to figure this out if she were here!"  And I scowled at the dog and told him how disappointed I was in him.  I took off my name tag from the dinner and stuck it on his head, so that I would laugh at him instead of continuing to be angry.

I got the backpack patched up (after a couple hours of work).  It actually was a good project and sharpened my sewing skills up again after not using them for a while.  I'm pleased with how things turned out:  the backpack, and my life.

Suzanne at the Nursing banquet,
showing off her new umbrella.

Run for Your Mother ~

(l to r) Judy, Mom, and me ~ look at how fast
we are going!  I'm carrying an umbrella
because it was pouring rain.  1979 Kalamazoo Klassic 10k

As many of you know, my mom is the one who got me to start running.  She and her friend Judy (our neighbor) were absolutely THE FIRST moms in our area to start running on a regular basis and take part in races.  My brother and I grew up in rural Michigan in the 1970s and 80s.  Moms were really moms back then and pretty much stayed home and took care of kids and cooked and cleaned from what I remember.  My mom ran probably about 20 miles per week, drove the school bus (it was a manual transmission diesel), AND did all those other "mom" things.  She was a pretty amazing lady.

Hey, I earned that orange slice!  Being an 8-yr-old
spectator is hard work.

And she didn't just run 5ks (I don't think they even existed back then, although there were kids' races called "Fun Runs" which were about 1 mile and not all that much fun, as I remember.  I got just as worked up back then before races as I do now.  I remember being super-stressed because I was afraid I wasn't going to get back fast enough to see my mom at the start line of her race.

ca. 1980 Borgess "Run for the Health of It" 10k
(Some random guy next to my mom.)  She's killin' it!

My mom and Judy read Jim Fixx's "The Complete Book of Running" which was the first book of its kind to outline the health benefits of daily running (or "jogging" as we liked to call it back then).  She even got Mr. Fixx to have his picture taken with us at the Borgess 10k one year (my brother and I pretty much had no clue who this guy was, but we stood diligently next to him and smiled for the camera).  This was after Mr. Fixx had lost like 200+ pounds through diet and exercise and before he died several years later of a massive heart attack.

But I digress.  This post is about my mom and how she instilled her love of running in me!  So to this day, I run, and I love it.  I often think of my mom and what a pioneer she was.  I think of her every time I run.  Today is Mother's Day, and I'm going to do something that we both love(d) best ~ run.

Happy Trails!

Stefan & me with Jim Fixx.  Our mom was
all starry-eyed.  "There he is!  Let's go get your picture
with him!"  She didn't get her picture taken with him...  we
were like, "What?"  OK, Mom!" (eye-roll).  Makes me laugh
thinking back on it.

A post about work that I'll try to turn into one about running ~

Honestly, I've really been debating whether or not I should write this post.  Because it's more about work than it is about running.  But maybe I could find some way to make it about running, too... so I'll try.

I've been at my current job for about 5 years.  At the onset, I only worked a day or two a week, pretty sporadically, and didn't expect any benefits.  I was kind of going through a mid-life crisis where I had quit a 7-days on, 7-days off nurse practitioner job managing inpatients at a hospital (which was my first job after getting licensed) which was an absolutely awful job.  I was happy to have a lot of free time where I could just run lots of miles, work once in a while, and build up my credit card debt.

Over the past 5 years, I've worked more and more at my current job, typically averaging somewhere between 20 and 30 hours a week, which I think is plenty of work if you have the part-time (unpaid) job of running around in the mountains 10-20 hours per week.  Some might say that I should work more, but after watching my parents work so hard for so many years then only to have major illness affect them from enjoying the things they wanted to do (but never got to do) in their retirement, I've decided to live my life a little differently.  I get the bills paid, anyway.  I have a couple of part-time jobs to fill in some of the financial gaps, too (also un-benefitted).

So imagine my frustration when every Summer Semester (because my job is dependent upon the college population) my hours get cut back to once a week for various reasons, but then whenever someone goes on vacation they want me to cover their hours.  I end up working the hours.  I end up covering people and feeling a little bit used.

The thing that really hits me in the gut is the amount of benefits that I'm missing out on.  I'm actually really OK with paying for my own health insurance out of pocket (because it's high-deductible and probably works out to be cheaper per month).  But my colleagues get to enjoy:  health insurance, paid education hours (many of which are required to retain a license.  Providers typically turn this into a vacation and go to places like Hawaii for a medical conference), half-price classes at the University (to further their education, or just to learn something new), paid vacation hours, paid sick time.  It starts to really add up.  I figure I am missing out on at least $8,000 per year in benefits.  There are a lot of people in the same boat as me.

Why doesn't this change?  Because organizations who are "required" to pay benefits to employees after a certain amount of hours per week (20+, in this case), hold employees below that limit.  When my medical director went to the administrator to ask on my behalf if anything could be changed to offer me benefits, the administrator replied that he should cut my hours to below 18 per week.  Nice, huh?  This from an administrator who earns upwards of $300k per year (I looked it up).

I don't really need more money.  My life is good the way it is.  But I can't help but feel a little bit under-appreciated.  I'm happy to have the free time to go and run when I want (see?  I was able to bring this post back to running after all) but to do a really good great job and have patients appreciate you and know that their good outcomes are in part because of something you did or said to them and to get repaid with lack of benefits and a lower-than-average wage for your job type (I forgot to mention that, too) just hits me really hard.  I start to think that maybe I really am not worth more.  Maybe I made a mistake choosing the job path that I did.  Maybe I should have done something else with my life (Mid-life crisis, anyone?  Nah, I already went through that.  I'm really ok with the majority of my choices.  I have a pretty darn good life).

Maybe I'll go for a run to make myself feel better...  that typically seems to work.  Can't hurt, right?

I've also got a new job prospect lining up that will hopefully work itself out here in the next couple of months...  I'll keep you updated.

Community and a Toolbox

I'm headed off to bed, but I wanted to get a quick post off, because a couple of things (good things) have been in the back of my mind and I've wanted to push them to the fore front, because they are important.

As we head into "race season" it occurs to me, yet again, what an amazing trail-running community we have here in Salt Lake City and along the Wasatch Front.  I'm a new member of a running club that is based in Ogden but has a few Salt Lakers ~ it's a small club, and I feel so fortunate to be a part of this group.  It's so important to me to find running friends that have similar values to mine:  running for the love of it, enjoying trails and lovely mountains, and often partaking in a little bit of debauchery.  We are truly "Happy Utah Mountain Runners", even when the trail is strewn with bugs (midges:  thousands if not millions of them... ) we smile and laugh and build memories on the experience.

Another example:  I'm on the race committee for the Speedgoat 50k, a trail event up at Snowbird, Utah.  I am overwhelmed with gratitude as I think of not only the race committee (and race director, in particular) but also the 80+ volunteers who will come together to support over 400 racers this year.  The event has grown over the last seven years from a small-time local event to a big-time internationally known one.  And the local trail-running community comes together to make it happen.  I pretty much get chills just thinking about this amazing assembly of people.

And yet, with all of these people, thousands of them, I still really revel in my solitary trail runs.  Well, not quite solitary, but many times in the company of my two dogs, Franklin and Artemis.  Two aging Golden Retrievers who still, somehow seem to manage to put together 20-30 miles per week on the trails and in the neighborhood with me.  I know people recognize us.  I smile and nod and sometimes wave as I pass other runners.  We are a cute pack, the three of us, and I treasure every mile with my dogs.

And as I talk about how wonderful things are:  how supportive our trail-running community is, I think of a few certain people who are not able to log the miles that they want to right now.  After reading a friend's post in The Injured Athlete's Toolbox, it's so easy to think of ourselves and our plans and our healthy, happy trail-running groups and forget to check in with others who might not be doing so well.  Some who might be nursing little injuries that might go away in a week or two; and others who will be on a lengthier path to recovery.

After reading the blogpost, the content hit me really deep.  I wish I had had a resource like this when I was injured, recovering from knee surgery in 2007.  I do know what it's like to be injured.  I know what it's like to have everyone talking about their favorite run (or ski, or bike) and feel so frustrated that you can't do the things that seem so easy when you are healthy.

I know I'm not supposed to compare, but I think of my own injuries, especially the more significant ones and how easy it is to feel alone and a little bit (or a lot) down, depending on the situation or how much support you have or what blessed distractions you might have to keep your mind off of your injury for a little bit.  As an injured athlete, you might feel like you will never be able to log the miles again that you want to or that you once did.  It's important to have perspective and not get too mired down in the negativity of an injury, but who doesn't do this?  Being injured is tough.  And to this, I say:  love an injured friend today.  Take the Injured Athlete's advice and don't talk about your race plans or how well you did at that last event.  Talk to the injured friend and offer them friendship that has nothing to do with running (or their activity of choice).

We are blessed to be healthy and together on this Earth (well, and it is Earth Day after all).  As I think of how fortunate I am to be me and living this life of mine, I like to think of my friends and what it might be like to be living that life of theirs.  I'm so fortunate to have the friends that I do.  They help to keep me grounded and maintain perspective.

Zion 50k Race Report~ in the company of friends

This race report is dedicated to my friends:  new and old.  I had a really rough day at work on Thursday and considered not going to my race in Virgin, Utah this weekend.  Friday morning was punctuated by frustration, sadness, and a few tears.  Stress that did not deserve a place in my life.  Thankfully, I drove to the race with a very optimistic friend, who took my mind off the maladies in life and helped me to reframe my outlook.  Throughout the race on Saturday, I told myself to just, "think positively" and to "smile, even if you don't feel like it".  Here is my report on how that went.

So, I already mentioned that I drove down to Virgin, Utah with my friend Britta.  She told me that she was trying to be more positive about people, not talk negatively about them, and be more positive, in general.  I can be a pretty negative person.  Most of my good friends know that.  I usually blame it on my half-German descent.  Spend any length of time in the town where my father grew up and you start to pick up on the fact that people talk sh*t about each other and don't bat an eye at the fact that they do so.  It's a problem.  You start focusing on all the bad sh*t in the world and how horrible things  might be if "A" leads to "B" and it's all just a load of hypothetical crap.  It's really not worth wasting your energy on 99% of it.

So after a communication break-down at work, which I like to blame on the fact that no one in my clinic ever wants to be criticized or they will defensively fly off the handle, I was in a pretty frustrated, bad mood.  I went to do a Girls on the Run site visit as an ambassador on Thursday afternoon and experienced the positive energy of over a dozen eight- to ten-year-olds which helped to put me back on track from the negativity that I had experienced earlier in the day.

Then Britta and I drove to Zion on Friday.  Then meeting up with some friends on Friday night for dinner, which turned into a bit of a fiasco because the credit card machine at the restaurant we went to wasn't working and we really just wanted to go to bed because we had to be awake at 4:30 to get to the race start... Yeah.  Isn't there some saying about "the best laid plans... blah, blah, blah... "?

I was determined to have a good race despite the fact that I hadn't run much elevation this winter and had only just barely been able to put together three solid weeks of training at 40 miles per week.  I would go to the start line with a smile on my face.  A forced smile.

I got to the hotel and took a shower and watched a couple of episodes of Modern Family.  I read my book for about an hour and started getting sleepy, so I decided to turn out the light.  I fell asleep quickly and slept soundly.  How do I know this?  Because I woke up in a panic at midnight when the hotel alarm clock went off.  Rookie move.  Forgot to check that.  I tried not to let it affect my sleep, and told myself if I had fallen asleep easily once, I would do it again.  Reality is:  I tossed and turned for 30-40 minutes and woke up two other times during the night.  The alarm went off at 4:40am and I forced a smile onto my face.  A supported 30-mile run in the desert with friends!  Positive attitude!  I was even able to force down a cup of coffee, banana, and a Larabar for breakfast at 5am (and didn't puke it up again).  My luck was continuing...

Many friends were in the start-finish pavilion at the Virgin town park.  Nearly everyone was smiling in anxious anticipation of the day.  A few 100-mile people were finishing as we were starting.  It was a great atmosphere.

I looked over at my friend Ryan (who is always smiling) and was like, "Oh, I left my headlamp in the car.  We probably won't really need them, huh?"  And he said, "Here, just take mine.  I run in the dark all the time, so I'll be fine."  And then we proceeded to start the race in the dark at 6am, run through the foothills above Virgin, Utah, and get off-course many times even with the use of the headlamp.

I ran with my friend Darcie for about a mile and felt good about that because she is way faster than I am.  Then Britta came up from behind me... What?  She is way faster than I am.  In fact, this happened not once, but twice (she had gotten off-course).  Then we came to the river crossing.  I watched as about 20-30 people tip-toed around the edge of the water, looking for a dry place to cross. Thanks, folks, but my feet will be dry again in about 20 minutes, and I just passed all of you.  I splashed right through the river.  Bam!  Oh, it was sweet.

I ran the entire 7-miles of the first climb.  I kept hearing Lindsay's (Ryan's wife) voice in my head from one of her recent blogposts:  "Run all of the uphills, even if you don't think you can.  Own the uphills!"  And I did.  Before I knew it, I was at the first aid station at 7.5 miles.  I sped through without taking anything and called out my number to the volunteers.  Sweet.  I just passed about 5 people who had stopped.

Then I saw my friend Renee, who was pacing Steven (didn't know him) and I gave them both a hug.  Steven was doing the 100-mile race and the two of them had been up all night.  They deserved hugs.  In fact, I said, "Good job", "Great job", or gave a pat on the shoulder to every single 100-mile runner that I passed.  It felt good to see them grimace a little smile after my acknowledgement of their efforts.  These runners were at approximately the 80-mile mark of the race and were all in the home stretch.  So sweet.

I saw my friend Matt (doing the 100-mile) and realized that I had gotten off-course.  I laughed, and ran backwards on the course to make up the mileage that I had lost (about a half a mile) and then caught up to him again.  He told me to "get going" and not slow down because of him.  In fact, I passed again the three women who had also taken a wrong turn and had not made the attempt to make up the mileage that they had lost.  Later, ladies!  I continuously looked at the pace-setting on my watch and it hovered right around 12 min-mi, exactly my target.

I caught Becky from Pocatello, a friend of my friend Kelly, and we ran together for about a mile.  She also skis at Pebble Creek, where my brother is the director of ski patrol.  She was really nice, but was running faster than I was on the downhill, so I told her to go on ahead.

We got down the road to the cut-off and had a small, 300 ft climb to grind up.  Becky and one other woman were ahead of me, just out of reach.  "How nice would it be to catch them?"  I thought to myself.  Through the next aid station very quickly just to fill a water bottle and they were still just ahead.  Dang.  Just out of reach.  Then the big climb came:  1,500ft in 1.5 miles.  I was calling Becky "red shirt" because before I knew her name, that's how I was identifying her.  I stubbed my toe and looked down a 300-foot precipice.  Pay attention!  Grind uphill.  Rope section.  Pull uphill.  Head down.  Breathe.  10 more minutes uphill.  Then, On Top of Smith Mesa!  And Becky was at the top.

I could hear Roch's voice in my head, "You'll be glad you have those Altra Olympus shoes on the way down off of Smith Mesa," and he was right, as always.  It was 3 miles of steep downhill on a paved road.  I switched gears and sped downhill.  Out in front of Becky and running 8 min-miles.  5 more miles and I would be finished.  "Your legs are going to hurt tomorrow!" a little voice inside said to me.  But I didn't care.  Tomorrow is not today, and today I have the fortitude to bust this last section out.  It had been a great day up until that point and I was determined to keep it that way.

I ran out of water on the downhill and shrugged it off.  I got a side stitch and did some deep belly-breathing to get it to go away.  Then, before I knew it, I was at the bottom of the hill and two women were standing by an SUV and yelled, "OH Yeah!  Girl Power!  Way to go, girl!"  And you know what?  They had water jugs set up there!  Sweet mother of baby Jesus, cool, refreshing water.  I asked, "How far, 2 miles?" as I was filling my bottle.  One of them said, "Maybe one and a half [miles]."  Hell yeah, let's get this b*tch done!  Still averaging 12 min-miles!

I cruised the last bit down the double-track dirt road and to the main highway.   There were cars coming from both directions.  I held out my hand to them and waved and smiled, forcing them to stop and let me cross.  I could finish well under 6 hr 30 min if I hustled down the last quarter mile... to the finish!  6 hours, 20 minutes!  I did it!!!  And I felt great the entire way.

I felt great, because I was determined to feel great.  I wasn't going to let a bit (or a lot) of negativity affect my race day.  I let the infectious optimism of my friends influence me instead.  I love my friends.  I wore my Happy Utah Mountain Runners shirt and am certain that I lived up to the name of this amazing group of people.  I sat with friends at the finish line and laughed and smiled.  I drank a beer which was quite possibly, the best beer I have ever tasted (it was a PBR, my favorite, and it was free:  even better).

I drove back to Salt Lake with Britta (she won the race, and my friend Darcie got 3rd!) and made it to the kennel before 6pm to pick up the dogs.  Had I arrived 5 minutes later, I would have perhaps had to pay a late-pick up fee.  My luck had continued on the drive home (no speeding tickets, either).

What a wonderful weekend.  What a great way to start the racing season.  Let the Summer of Running, 2014 edition begin!

Postscript:  it is now Monday evening and my legs have been killing me for two days, post-race.  I earned it.  I also have been an empty pit of hunger, eating almost an entire, large Este New York-style pizza in 2 1/2 days.  I have taken afternoon naps both Sunday and Monday and it feels great.  It all feels great.  I am pleased beyond belief.

Review: Altra Olympus vs Hoka

Introduction:  why I chose to switch to a high-cushion shoe:

I was originally introduced to the Hoka Mafate (the original Hoka shoe) in January of 2011, when I was going through an IT band tendonitis injury.  The increased cushion of the shoe absolutely helped me to recover from my injury more quickly and allowed me to participate in active recovery without furthering my injury.  As 2011 went on, I continued to train in the Hoka shoe and realized that I had much less leg fatigue after longer runs than I had ever experienced with other shoes in the past.  The high stack height of the mid-sole allowed for this.  In September of 2011 I completed my first 100-mile race, the Wasatch 100, and owed much of my success to the shoes which allowed me to heal effectively from previous injury, train with less leg fatigue, and recover more quickly after long runs.

Subsequently, I finished my second and third 100s, the Bear 100 in 2012 and the Bighorn 100 in 2013, as well as the Trans Rockies Run stage race in 2012 (120 miles over 6 days).  In the Fall of 2012 I had heard good things about a new, local company called "Altra" and decided to give their shoes a try.  The shoes were much more minimal than I was used to running in, but the Hokas that I liked (the original Mafate and the original Stinson) were wearing out and the newer versions had changed quite a bit as far as the upper was concerned.  The new Hokas just weren't as comfortable as my previous Hokas and I was no longer in love with the brand.  The Hoka uppers seemed over-built and stiff, and many people (myself included) were having trouble with the low-profile toe box.

In January of 2013 I tried on the Altra Torin, a road shoe with a larger stack height than the trail series shoes, the Lone Peak and the Superior, and I was in love.  The comfort of the Altra upper along with the wider toe box and the cushion of the midsole quickly made this the favorite shoe in my quiver.  Running more than 30 miles in the Lone Peaks, I was experiencing foot fatigue and ankle pain, and knew that I needed a shoe with a thicker midsole:  more cushion and a higher stack height, to get me through my next 100 mile race.  The Torins were a good alternative as far as cushion was concerned, but didn't have the tread that I needed while running on the trails.

Hoka Mafate II (left) vs Altra Olympus (right)

Enter the Altra Olympus, March 2014.  The women's shoe release was a bit behind the men's shoe, and I had already heard good things about the men's version from several friends of mine who were running in it.  I've personally only done about 50 miles in the shoes, but from what I have experienced so far, I will tell you that I plan in running in them a lot (almost exclusively) this coming season.

Comparison:

I can tell you that for the following reasons, I prefer the Altra Olympus over the Hoka.

1) Upper/toebox:  the problems that I experienced with the newer versions of the Hoka are nonexistent with the Altra Olympus:  the Altra upper is of a lighter-weight, more breathable material, but plenty durable.  The Hokas seem to have become "over-built" and tended to cause a lot of rubbing and restriction of the toes.  The toe box in the Hokas is absolutely too restrictive.  Altra has gotten things right:  a wider toe box means absolutely no blisters experienced.  No rubbing, no chafing.  Each time I put the Olympuses (or any of the Altra shoe line) on my feet, I marvel at the comfort that is imparted on my feet and toes.

2) Midsole:  the Altra Olympus's midsole is similar to the Hoka, but with a little less "flair" making it a bit less wide and cumbersome.  The amount of cushion is comparable, however, and the Altra midsole seems to be a bit more energetic and "springy".  I feel like less energy is lost with each step.  This translates into less effort being put into each step and my pace (per min-mi) is faster in the Altra.  (Specifications:  Hoka Mafate 3:  Stack height 29 (toe) to 33mm (heel), and the Altra Olympus is 36mm, zero-drop.)

3) Outsole/tread:  another win for the Altra Olympus.  The more aggressive tread of the Olympus (although not knobby) simply grips better on all surfaces.  I feel more confident, especially on the downhills, and feel less likely to "slip out" than with the Hokas.

4) Toe rocker:  when standing on a hard, flat surface in the Altra Olympuses, the toe rocker is very noticeable and feels a bit odd underfoot.  I can tell you that once you get out on the trail, this sensation is nearly imperceptible.  The Hoka has a rocker as well, and is less noticeable when standing on a hard, flat surface.  The Altra Olympus might dominate a little bit as far as function, giving the runner the feeling that he or she is pushing off with a bit more ease.

5) Zero-drop factor:  Altras are a Zero-drop shoe, meaning that there is no difference between the height of the heel and the height of the toe when measured from the ground.  Transitioning from a 4-5mm shoe like the Hoka to the zero drop of the Altra took me all of 3 months to do.  Transitioning from a higher drop (like 7mm or 9mm as some shoes are) might take a little bit longer, in an effort to avoid Achilles tendon stretch and over-use of the lower leg muscles.  However, as I have learned from Altra representatives, the more cushion there is in the zero-drop shoe that you transition to, the more forgiving that shoe will be.  You will likely experience an easier transition to the Olympus than, say, to the Superior which has a very minimal stack height of 14mm. Another thing that I love about the Zero-drop factor, is that my running stance is much improved.  My running partner has told me that over the past year of running in Altras, I have gone from a "slumped" stance, with my butt down and plodding along (in the Hokas) to a more active, taller, "forward lean" stance.  I have definitely noticed that my alignment (shoulders, hips, knees, feet) seems better and my running requires less effort than before.  I'm running faster on the whole with my new, more efficient running posture.

Considerations when buying a high-cushion shoe:  

The handling or "cornering" ability of my Altra Olympuses is definitely not as good as the Lone Peak or the Superior (more minimal trail shoes in the Altra line), but I feel that this is not a fault of the shoe, rather something that must be considered when buying a high-cushion shoe.  Hokas have the same flaw.  You just don't feel that "connection" with the ground that you do on lower-profile shoes.  I'm willing to give up a little handling-ability in the name of saving my quads over the course of a 100-mile run as I previously mentioned in the introduction.  As time goes on running in a high-profile shoe, the midsole actually compacts some and your foot "settles" into the midsole a bit more.  More miles on this type of shoe means that they will actually get better with time (no matter if they are Hoka, Altra, or some other brand of high-profile shoe).

I also feel that adding some cosmetic application to the mid-foot of the upper (a strapping-type system, first pioneered by Adidas with the "three stripes" logo) might help to anchor the foot better into the Altra Olympus.  This could be something to consider for future, updated models.  This system is in place in the Superior 1.0s and functions very well.

"Ankle-roll" factor is something that many people consider when buying a high cushion shoe.  I personally have never had a problem with it.  I roll my ankles every once in a while no matter what kind of shoe I am in.  I think if you roll your ankle in any high-cushion shoe, you are going to notice it more.  If you are a typical ankle roller, this type of shoe may not be for you.  For me, I'm willing to risk it, given the many positives that a high-cushion shoe imparts.

Conclusion:

When buying a high-cushion shoe, there are many factors to consider.  Transitioning to any new type of shoe will take some time.  I have been very pleased with my performance in high-cushion shoes, and feel that with the recent addition of the Altra Olympus to the high-cushion shoe options, my running will continue to improve.  The shoes will allow me to attain the goals of high-mileage running with less leg fatigue, faster recovery times, and fewer foot chafing issues than any shoe prior to it.

Here's how a few of the Altra shoes compare:

1) Altra Lone Peak 1.5, stack height 22mm
    vs. Altra Olympus, stack height 36mm

2) Altra Torin 1.5 (road shoe), stack height 27mm
    vs. Altra Olympus, stack height 36mm

3)  Altra Superior, stack height 14mm

     vs. Altra Olympus, stack height 36mm

Full specifications can be found at:

http://www.altrarunning.com

and http://www.hokaoneone.com