…We need to talk. I’ve been attracted to you for as long as I can remember, but I’ve started to feel that what we have together is unhealthy. So often it seems that I’m doing all the work in our relationship. I feel you judging me for the extra pounds around my middle. Half the time we don’t even talk – you hardly let me get a word out. Then I start to think that the problems are my fault. You know the old cliche, “Its not you…its me.” Maybe you’re right. Maybe if I dropped a few pounds, passed on that extra beer or cup of ice cream we would get along better. But in the end, it seems that no matter what changes I make, or commit to make – you’re constant – you never change. It is frustrating. At the worst of times, you are a cold, heartless shrew.
Most definitely NOT on speaking terms with gravity Photo Credit: Joel Schenk
But then, I get to the top of some ridge or peak, and the pressure you’ve been putting on me lessens. It’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, (and legs, and feet). I take the time to enjoy the view and the accomplishment, and just like that I’m ready to forgive you for all the suffering you put me through. As I head down a trail and fall back into your warm embrace, and enjoy the wind on my face, I remember why I love you. Time flies when you’re having fun, and as I fly down on my bike or skis, or lightly run down a trail – I’m having FUN! I find my voice again. I sing, and laugh and shout for joy. We’re an awesome couple! We make a perfect team! You’re my best friend. The thing is – this hate/love cycle just doesn’t seem healthy. I realize that any good relationship requires hard work. And I really do appreciate all you’ve done for me. We’ve had some great times over the years. But just once in a while – I wish you’d lighten up and give me a break! That doesn’t seem like that much to ask. Its not like there’s a law against that, is there?
I think we have something special, I just needed to get some things off my chest. I’m willing to keep working at our relationship. I hope you’ll continue to be there for me.
As a general rule, my goal is to avoid any place named “Hell”. This past week I made an exception. According to the USGS, some variation of the word “Hell” is affixed to 73 places in Arizona. After a good start, our winter has sputtered a bit. Since skiing conditions have suffered as a result, and for a change of pace, I decided to give the kayak some love. This time of year there are two obvious choices from Flag – Lakes Powell or Pleasant…both a two-ish hour drive. Whilst pondering my options, the thought occurred, why not combine time on the water with a trail run in a new area?
Some internet searching had turned up a little traveled trail leading to Governor’s Peak. This nondescript little peak is located in the northeast corner of the Hell’s Canyon Wilderness, located in the Hieroglyphic mountain range. Twenty years in Arizona and I had never heard of any of these places. That was definitely part of the attraction.
The trail…well…path to Governor’s peak
Amazing hiking through the saguaro cacti
Lake Pleasant to the southeast from the summit.
The descriptions were accurate. The trail was lightly used…and in many places was more of a suggestion of where a trail might go if one existed. Some well placed cairns were most helpful in leading to the summit. Probably the most surprising, and most welcome feature of the hike was the presence of flowing water. Water in the desert always seems such a gift. At several creek crossings I just sat and listened to the sound of trickling water, accompanied by the scores of birds also enjoying the streams.
For a trail run, as is often the case, there wasn’t much “running” involved – at least on the way up. Turns out there was a significant amount of “up” on this trail. Coming down, the trail was a bit more obvious and I was able to jog down most of the way. Love all the oxygen at lower elevations. Overall, a super pleasant way to spend a few hours.
Back at the car, I changed clothes, pulled out the bag chair, and enjoyed the view and a few snacks. Then it was off to the 2nd part of the day. The northern launch ramp at Lake Pleasant was just a few miles back down the road. Since there was a fairly brisk southerly breeze, I decided to head in that direction first.
From the comfort of bed earlier in the day, I had thought I’d spend three or four hours getting a real workout paddling around the lake. Yeah, well…plans change. Paddling into the wind for an hour seemed like enough of a workout, especially for muscles that seemed genuinely surprised to be swinging a paddle again. I poked around the Scorpion Bay marina checking out the sailboats and chatting with a couple in another kayak. I enjoyed a leisurely (with the wind) paddle back north – checking out some bays, coves and mules along the way.
I love winter. I love winter activities. I’m most definitely NOT ready for winter to be over. But what a treat to be able to enjoy a lovely ‘spring’ day for just the cost of a few hours driving.
Sharon was recently going through some old photos and came across this one from February 2012. We’d all just climbed up the insanely steep “trail” out of South Canyon – and most important – were all still smiling. This little trip was the first time I’d met Rob, Cailie or Andrew. it was also the very first Diapers and Depends Expedition.
I’ve described this before, but during the trip we very quickly started with some good natured trash talking – e.g. the youngsters among us were “barely out of diapers”. We were so old we needed Depends! And so it went. Thus was born “Diapers and Depends Expeditions”. Since then, plus or minus a few others, the Diapers and Depends gang has reeled off an impressive list of accomplishments. As often happens, seeing this early photo made me a bit nostalgic and prompted this pictorial walk down memory lane celebrating the last eight years.
2012-2013
2012 -South Canyon
2012 – Nepal
2013 – Superstition Mountains…Battleship
2013 – Grand Canyon Battleship
2013 – Grand Canyon Escalante Route
2013 – Camp Crevasse training
2013 – Camp Crevasse training
2013 – Mt Rainier…Emmons Glacier
2014-2015
2014 – Mt Humphreys Winter Climb
2015 – Colorado River Paddle
2014 Mt. Baker
2014 – New Hance Hike
2015 – Jacks Canyon
2014 – Phantom Creek
2015 Lake Mohave Paddle
2016 – 2019
2015 Lake Mohave Paddle
2016 – Tanner Trail
2016 – John Muir Trail
2016 – Hangover Hike
2017 – Moab Ultra
2019 – John Muir Trail
I can’t begin to describe what joy and enjoyment these folks and these trips have brought to our lives over the past eight years. And this extensive list isn’t nearly complete. It does not include all the conversations, emails, texts, phone calls, Flagstaff beer runs, picnics, dinners, birthday parties and just general time spent together with the Diapers and Depends group. It doesn’t include all the fantastic times we’ve spent with our grown children and extended family. It doesn’t include our large circle of friends here in Flagstaff. So, in this Thanksgiving week – it seems appropriate to be thankful not only for the opportunities we’ve had to explore so much of our world, but especially for all the wonderful people who are part of our lives.
My legs felt tired as soon as I started up the trail. It normally takes a bit to loosen up and feel good, so that wasn’t surprising. On this particular day though, I wasn’t feeling it. Not only did I not loosen up, as the climb continued, I felt more and more tired and (it hardly seemed possible) actually started moving even more slowly. It gradually occurred to me that on the previous day, I may have been a bit light on calories. In fact, on reflection, I hadn’t really eaten much after breakfast. Just wasn’t hungry and we were busy doing stuff. No problem! I told my body, “Body – you’re ‘well marbled’ with a fair bit of reserve fat! Why don’t you just burn some of that instead!” My body thought about that for a moment and then flipped me a double bird, planted a solid hit on the family jewels, gave me an atomic wedgie followed by a swirly, and then danced over my crushed spirit singing, “Na-na-na-boo-boo!” In other words, using a military reference, I was experiencing a MOAB – Mother Of All Bonks! Not the British bonk, but as a Runner’s World article put it, the “sorry stewpot of dehydration, training errors, gastric problems, and nutrition gaffes” that causes either the legs or the brain to call it a day!
One would think that after doing this sort of thing long enough, bonking would be a thing of the past. I’ve found, however, that I never go wrong underestimating my capacity for stupidity. Anyway, I told my body, “You’re not the boss of me!” and kept trudging uphill, moving so slowly that time actually moved backwards. To pass the time I re-worked one of my favorite Dr. Suess stories (my apologies to Suess BTW).
Well… I was hiking up the mountain, and I saw nothing scary. For I have never been afraid of anything. Not very. Then I was high up on the mountain when, suddenly, I spied them. I saw a pair of pale green running shorts with no calories inside them! I wasn’t scared. But, yet, I stopped What could those shorts be there for? What could a pair of running shorts be standing in the air for? And then they moved? Those empty shorts! They kind of started jumping. And then my heart, I must admit, It kind of started thumping. I said, “I do not fear those shorts with no calories inside them.”I said, and said, and said those words. I said them. But I lied them.Then I finally reached the mountain top and the next thing that I knew,I felt my hand touch someone! And I’ll bet that you know who.And there I was! High in that awesome place Those spooky, empty shorts and Iwere standing face to face!I yelled for help. I screamed. I shrieked.I howled. I yowled. I cried,“OH, SAVE ME FROM THESE PALEGREEN SHORTS WITH NO CALORIES INSIDE!” But then a strange thing happened.Why, those shorts began to cry! Those shorts began to tremble.They were just as tired as I!I never heard such whimpering, so….I put my arm around their waistAnd sat right down beside them.I calmed them down.Poor empty shorts with no calories inside them.
Dr. Suess…sort of!
When I finally trudged to the top of the climb, I sat down and had a serious talk with my body. I promised, in the future, to remember to provide the necessary calories before heading out on a long hike/run. It apologized for the rough treatment it gave me on the way up (although just between you and me – I’m not sure my body was entirely sincere). In any case, we made up and actually had a decent run back down As unpleasant as it was, those kinds of experiences always serve as good reminders that no matter how experienced we may be, it can be the simplest of things that trip us up. Lesson learned. Thank you, body, for that!
I went x-c skiing yesterday…and it sucked! I realize a lot of folks are thinking, “Well – duh! Of course it sucked!” For many, their entire experience of x-c skiing is as a bad idea they somehow got talked into that involved lots of flailing and falling and going nowhere rather slowly. The thing is, I grew up x-c skiing and for many, many years it was my “thing” – it was my passion. In my hometown in northern Wisconsin, x-c skiing was the equivalent of trail running here in Flagstaff. And just like the annual migration of Flagstaff runners to the Imogene Pass Run, thousands of people from up nort’ traveled to test themselves in the American Birkebeiner and various other ski races. I looked forward to the long, long Wisconsin winters and loved skiing.
Since moving to Flagstaff in 2001, x-c skiing has become less of a “thing”. For many years we lived east of town and I didn’t feel like driving all the way out to the Nordic Center. Over the years we’ve had some sporadic snow years. Too often my free time didn’t coincide with good snow, etc., etc., etc. Bottom line is that in Flagstaff, there are more opportunities for outdoor activity than time in which to do them all. I think I skied once or twice in our first winter here. Since then, my faithful gear has been in storage, waiting for me to notice it.
So in a recent fit of nostalgia for the “good old days” I bought some new boots, and some slightly newer, used skate skis and headed out to the Nordic center. Apparently x-c skiing is NOT just like riding a bike. As I clipped into the skis I imagined myself gliding effortlessly along the trails, muscles rippling under colorful lycra. The reality was not quite what I imagined. The skis didn’t stay underneath my body the way they were supposed to. (note to self – probably just need better gear). Almost immediately my shin muscles started cramping from my awkward skiing motions. Any muscles present were not rippling. Quivering would be more accurate. And not under colorful lycra, but under an insulating layer of flesh. In spite of being in pretty good running shape, my heart was attempting to jack hammer an escape path through my chest. My arms felt like Bobby Hill “The kids at school all call me T-Rex cuz’ my arms won’t support my body weight.“
I hadn’t bothered to wax the newer skis. “It will be fine” I thought. Rookie mistake. It wasn’t. I ended up having to skate down some of the hills. This was NOT the Jesse Diggans, Olympic finish I had envisioned. As I struggled along, I had lots of time for negative thoughts. How did I ever think this was fun? How sad is this? I thought I was in shape. I used to ski the 55k Birkie, now I’m gassed after a couple of miles! Why did I waste money on new gear? This is embarrassing! I’m glad no one is around to see me and offer to help me find my walker, or my way back to the nursing home. I spent $10 on this stupid pass – how long do I have to do this to justify that expense?
Then it happened. It wasn’t quite a ray of sunshine from heaven or angels singing a chorus, but it happened. I hit a stretch of better snow. My legs stopped cramping. The jack hammer in my chest slowed down ever so slightly. And I felt it. Arms and legs started working in a slightly more coordinated fashion. Skate, pole, glide. There it is! Downhill, tuck, step around a sharp turn – nailed it! And then came a slight uphill and the moment was gone! But I had felt it. Somewhere inside that softer, older body there still lurked a skier. And in that moment, I fell in love with skiing again.
So today, I’ll dig out my old ski wax and give the newer skis some love. Maye I’ll check with Google to see if wax technology has changed in the last 20 years. Next time I go to the gym, maybe I’ll pay just a little attention to my T-Rex arms. Who knows, maybe there’s still another Birkie in this body. But first, baby steps…let’s see about skiing for a whole hour, then we can talk – and dream.
I’ve heard it before. That tone of disbelief and wonder and mild horror when someone finds an unrecognizable “science project” in a forgotten corner of the refrigerator. “What is this?” I heard the same disbelief and wonder when people asked, “You went all the way to Norway just to compete in a trail race?” Don’t worry – I wasn’t offended! The short answer is “No!” No, we did not travel half-way around the world just to run around on some mountains. It just sounded like the perfect opportunity to have some”stupid fun.” (“Stupid Fun” See definition here.)
The real story is that when our decision to travel to Norway was finalized and the dates were set, Sharon and I began exploring all that Norway had to offer. The thought occurred that it might be fun join some locals for a trail run. The Hornindal Rundt was the only trail race that took place during our visit, and also happened to be in an area we wanted to visit. So it was that many months later Sharon and I passed through “The Gate of No Return“.
Race check-in
But I’m getting ahead of myself. The Hornindal Rundt (Round) bills itself as “Norway’s Toughest Mountain Race.” The pictures and videos of the event all featured lean, smiling Norwegians effortlessly trotting around the beautiful mountains and lakes of the Hornindal region. And, there was a trail. How hard could it really be? Not having done any other Norwegian mountain races, I’m not qualified to judge the veracity of the “toughest” claim, but it does boast some rather impressive statistics. The long course is 75 kilometers (46 miles) and involves 16,000′ feet of climbing and descending…10,000′ of that comes during the first 38k (23 miles) aka the “short” course.
I had decided to attempt the 75k distance. My rationale was that it was only slightly longer than a Canyon rim to rim to rim, with a bit more climbing. It seemed like it would be a stretch for me, but I was looking for a challenge. Sharon opted for the 38k fjelløp, also a challenge. While the race was not meant to be the main focus of our trip, we did spend a great deal of time preparing. We reckoned that any training would benefit us for all the other activities we had planned during our visit.
The race begins and ends in Grodås. Five minutes from the center of this pleasing little village, we found a convenient cabin where we planned to spend several days.
The view down valley toward Grodås and Hornindal Lake
The Knausen hytte.
We arrived on Friday with plenty of time to relax. We spent the day fueling up, sorting gear, hydrating properly, getting registered, taking in the english version of the pre-race briefing and just generally enjoying the ambiance of the event.
Sorting gear was tough. We had required gear and only one aid station at the 38k finish (1/2 way for long course)
Race briefing
Hornindal competitors
Two of the four Americans entered.
We were both going into the race with some uncertainty. We’d done a fair amount of hiking during our first week in country and generally felt great. Now on the day before before the race, after two rest days, Sharon’s legs felt heavy and tired. I felt rested and strong…yet completely unprepared. Even though I’d done something comparable before, and had trained hard, for some reason this race was getting into my head and I was filled with doubt. We both went to bed unsure of what the next day held in store.
In spite of our misgivings, we both slept well. We were somewhat less pleased with the sound of steady rain on the roof. We shouldn’t have been surprised. This was Norway and we’d been warned. Still, we’d had such good weather to this point, and there hadn’t been rain in the forecast! One could hope! We had the appropriate gear, but rain and cold had the potential to make a long day really long!
Our Norwegian warm up leader…highly entertaining
And we’re off!
Sharon and I started out together jogging slowly along the shore of Hornindalvatnet (Hornindal Lake) before heading up into the woods to begin our first climb. Fairly early on it became apparent that Sharon was not having a good day. Heavy legs and lungs made climbing a chore. This was tough mentally. It is hard not to 2nd guess and get down on yourself for the amount of hiking and resting we’d done. This was tough physically. Feeling good it was going to be a challenge to complete this course. On a bad day it had the potential to be misery. So like any loving husband, I abandoned Sharon and left her to suffer alone. Actually…she threatened unspeakable harm if I didn’t leave. That is a credible threat. Also, we’ve done a number of endurance things together, and we had talked ahead of time. Regardless of how we were doing, we had agreed we would each run our own race. Still, it was hard leaving, knowing that she was going to have a hard go of it.
For me, the Hornindal Rundt was everything I’d hoped for – and more. The scenery was stunning. The weather cleared and was perfect…even a bit warm. My favorite memories from the race, however, came from my interactions and conversations with the other participants.
“Bill Murray” look alike
“Bill Murray” and Evalina
The Amazing Adventure Moms. Carolina, Marit and Jeanette
Siv.
Michael dealing with stomach issues
Because the trail at one point didn’t cross the actual summit, “Bill Murray” added 1/2 mile to the run so he could tag a high point. After talking to Evalina for a bit and sharing that I wasn’t fast, but generally had pretty good endurance, she offered a memorable quote. “Yes – we are like diesel engine – slow but we run forever!” I met the three Amazing Swedish Adventure Moms. We recognized each other as neighbors at the Knausen Hytte. Every year Carolina, Jeanette and Marit participate together in one or two endurance events and were having way too much fun every time we passed each other. Siv and I ended up running/hiking together for several hours. Siv is a local and apparently either knew or was related to every person gathered along the course to cheer us on. I believe her family owned one of the farms we ran through as we came off one mountain and made our way up another. She was kind enough to fill me in on some of the history and life in this region. We ran together until she dropped me on an insanely steep climb, where I met Michael from Gothenburg, Sweden. We both stopped at a convenient stream to refill our water and regroup before finishing the death climb. We both helped each during some tough times coming in the 38k aid station.
Nice warm up mile along the lake.
Sharon on our first climb
A view back toward Grodas and the Hornindal valley stretch away behind.
Still smiling! Hornindal Lake in the background.
Typical “primitive” trail. Much of the course looked like this. Rough and vertical.
On the way to Gulkoppen, the high point of the course.
South from Gulkoppen overlooking the Innvikfjord
Local hikers enjoying a day on Gulkoppen.
Siv setting the pace
The last high point before 38K aid
Hornindalrokke “Hornindal Rock”
Returning to the valley. The cows were unimpressed.
As I said earlier, I’m not qualified to comment on the “toughest” label – but it certainly was tough. I was doing quite well until the last, steep, hot climb up Muldsvorhornet at around 20 miles. I rallied on the run down, but by the time I arrived at the 38K mark, I had decided to call it a day. The entire run had been a magical, amazing experience. It had also taken just under nine hours and had been very, very hard. The thought of heading out and doing it all over again on the 2nd half of the course was rather soul crushing. Physically I probably could have done it – but I felt like it would have just been a suffer-fest. Michael and the race director both did their best to encourage me to continue – and I did some serious soul searching. Ultimately I decided to stop while my memories of the race were positive. Fortunately, the race allows competitors to switch from the long course and get credit as a finisher in the short course. I’ll take it! Sharon arrived a bit later, gassed, a bit frustrated, but also happy to have stuck it out. In spite of stomach problems, Michael continued on and finished in just under 22 hours. Siv added another finish to her resume with a time of 19:40. Remarkable achievements!
At Hornindalbru, trying to decide whether or not to continue, one of the big considerations was, “Will I regret this decision later?” Now, almost three months later, I have no regrets. It was a great day, with great people, in a great place, that left me with great memories. Congrats to all competitors and all finishers. And thanks to the organizers for putting on a wonderful event. Of course, one does wonder, what if in 2019…???
To stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon is to be amazed. To gaze into the depths and realize you are seeing only a fraction of a percent of the entire Canyon, is to be made to feel very small. Stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon in the middle of a moonless night, gaze into a sky filled to overflowing with brilliant stars, and you “awesome” defined. Stand on the edge of the Canyon and look into the vast inky abyss where the Canyon should be, and the feeling of amazement, smallness and awe is overwhelming. Especially since I was there to run and hike back and forth across that great gulf. Gulp!
A year prior, a friend suggested doing a rim to rim to rim. I believe I let out a snort of derision. I’ve never finished a rim to rim and thought – “Hey, I’d like to do that all over again!” However, preparing for, and completing a long race in Moab earlier in the year had expanded my idea of what is possible (and enjoyable). So after a Canyon bridge was repaired, a separated collar bone had healed, training, schedules and weather all finally aligned so that I found myself in the middle of that aforementioned moonless night, at the s. Kaibab trailhead on a Saturday morning in November.
An amazing sunset seemed to bode well for my little adventure.
Alpenglow on Yaki Point and the top of the s. Kaibab
After sunset, the clouds did look a little ominous…
All ready to catch a few hours sleep before setting out.
Only 42 miles to go….
All you need is a good headlamp and a flashlight to run the south Kaibab trail in the middle of the night.
In spite of a slightly less than optimal forecast, and some rain earlier in the evening, things started out well. Five minutes down the trail I was already peeling off a layer. The familiar territory along the south Kaibab passed quickly. After a quick break at Phantom to fuel up and top off on water, I headed north. It was along this stretch that I hit my only real low point of the day. After a relatively balmy start, a cold wind from the north was blasting down Bright Angel Canyon. KB gear and Gore-tex came to the rescue, but still, it was none too warm. By the time I got close to Cottonwood campground I’d been alone in the dark for 4-5 hours, I was just barely staying ahead of my fuel needs, and I was starting to hear things. Several times I turned around, trying to see whatever animal was stalking the oldest and weakest member of the herd. Turns out it was something in my pack making noise.
The big downer though was the water situation. From Park Service sources online, I had expected to find water at Manzanita and at the north rim trailhead. When I asked the park rangers upon arrival, they assured me that no, the only water was at Cottonwood campground. I was a little surprised, but glad I asked and planned accordingly. To say I was disappointed at finding a dry faucet would be a mild understatement. I had just finished the last of my water. There would be no way to climb 7 miles to the rim, and then 14 miles back to water at Phantom. If I couldn’t get water I would have to cut short my run/hike. I briefly went to an uncharacteristically dark place. But then a quote I recently came across seemed appropriate.
If there is no solution to the problem then don’t waste time worrying about it. If there is a solution to the problem then don’t waste time worrying about it
So, no need to worry. I figured I’d go at least to Manzanita and check for water there. It was only two miles farther. If there was water – problem solved. If not, it wouldn’t be a problem running back to Phantom. So with some fuel on board and a plan in place I felt much better. And, as it turned out, there was water at Manzanita as I’d originally expected – so problem solved.
From that point the real climbing on the n. Kaibab begins…and it was beautiful. Before long the first hint of dawn appeared behind me. Eventually, ever so slowly I could begin to make out my surroundings and I had a geeky “Lord of the Rings” moment. The cliffs and rock features took on the form of “Helm’s Deep” and I could almost imagine an orc army in the valley below. OK…maybe too much alone time! About a mile from the top, I met the first southbound folks and the sun kissing the highest pine trees on the rim pulled me upwards.
A few minutes before 8am, 7 hours, 14 minutes from the south rim.
Still smiling!!
There are few things as glorious as the view from the north rim at sunrise, especially after hiking through the night to arrive there. And, unlike every other crossing – I actually did feel like retracing my steps. So I spent a few minutes doing the Verizon reception dance to let folks know I’d made it, and headed back down. I’m not even going to try to try to describe an early morning run down the n. Kaibab…other than to say it was glorious. And, that you really need to do it. Not run necessarily, but in some form or other, travel that trail in the early morning.
This trail just calls out for you to hike or run down. It is amazing.
Looking back up to the rim.
In contrast to the cold, dark and solitary journey north, the south bound journey was passed in relative warmth under blue bird skies enjoying the companionship of an ever changing cast of fellow travelers. The only hiccup heading south came a few miles north of Phantom. Some knee and hip pain, likely the result of a tight IT band caused me to stop running. This was not as problematic as it may sound, since the slow shuffle that passes for my running is only slightly faster than hiking.
Getting close to Cottonwood campground the 2nd time and approximately 14 miles left to go.
Lovely trail along Bright Angel Creek.
Boat beach from the Black Bridge.
Had a fun, pleasant conversation at Phantom with Emily from Flagstaff. Sharon caught a ride with her to the Canyon, so I was expecting to run into her. Like many in Flag, Emily was rocking the Canyon trails in preparation for her first ultramarathon in late January. As I climbed away from the river I entered what I like to call my “Sir do you need help finding your walker?” mode. During several food and water rest breaks on the slow slog upwards, I had the opportunity to meet and chat with several other pleasant folks. People who, like Emily, were out enjoying the Canyon as it is really meant to be enjoyed…on foot, relishing the challenge and marveling in the scenery.
The familiar landmarks gradually came and went. Tip off, the switchbacks, Skeleton point, Cedar ridge, Ooh Aah point – and finally – the rim! A quick pic, one last look out at the Canyon, and another grand adventure came to a close.
Aftermath.
There is a lot of time to think during any endeavor that takes the better part of a day. In the week and a half since (with Thanksgiving in between), I’ve had some time to think more about that day and relive the experience. A few thoughts…
I am always grateful and feel very blessed to live in Flagstaff with such easy access to such an amazing place.
I am always grateful for my health and the ability to enjoy the outdoors in unique ways.
I am especially grateful for my lovely and amazing bride – who by the way, whilst I was out mucking about across the River – just (her word) hiked the 17 miles down the Kaibab, across on the river trail and up the Bright Angel trail in an amazingly short time. Sharon supports, encourages these silly pursuits – and gets after it in her own right.
A big shout out to Katie Procter. Katie did her own rim to rim to rim two years prior and offered some good advice. And then three days after my run gave me the benefit of her professional massage therapy. aaaaaaaaah! Check her out at the Body Shop – seriously. Katie Procter Massage
Challenge yourself. Whether its hiking around the block, or across town, or up a mountain or into the Canyon, it feels good to push back the boundaries of what you think you can do. And when you push back boundaries like that, your world gets bigger. Just a warning though – that kind of thinking is dangerous. If I can do this, you think…maybe I can do that!And who knows where that will lead. -Seize the Carp!-
As often happens, unless I keep a close eye on it, my mind wandered off during a recent trail run. I thought back several weeks when gravity, my mountain bike and a lack of talent conspired to separate my acromioclavicular joint – commonly known as an ac joint. Big picture – not a big deal! However, as I struggled through my run, my mind dredged up the story of ancient Sisyphus. Legend has it that after quite a lot of naughtiness, he was condemned for all eternity to push a large boulder to the top of a mountain. Here’s the fun bit. As soon as he reached the top, the boulder would roll back to the bottom, and Sisyphus would have to start all over again.
Somehow that story seemed appropriate as I considered how my recent injury had kept me from running, and how much my fitness had taken a hit. Getting fit, increasing our fitness and staying fit can seem like pushing a boulder up a mountain. Just when we reach some goal, an injury, or work pressure, or some other obligation sends the fitness boulder rolling back down to the bottom. And I have yet to have someone explain to me how it can take months to build up a fitness level…and about 17 minutes of inactivity to lose it all!
So after a month of forced inactivity, here I was near the bottom of the mountain trying to push the bloody boulder back up again. And then (there went the mind again) I started thinking about Odysseus and the Land of the Lotus Eaters. For those of you who didn’t spend your college years translating ancient Greek, here’s the short version. At one point during their multi-year “road trip” Odysseus and his tired crew fetched up on the shores of an island whose inhabitants were known as the “Lotus Eaters.” When members of his crew ate the fruit of the Lotus plant, they were so overcome by blissful forgetfulness, they completely abandoned any thought of continuing their journey. All they wanted to do was lay around all day, munching on the delicious Lotus plant.
The “land of the Lotus-eaters” seems an apt description for that place at the bottom of our fitness mountains. Exercise is hard work! Reclining on the sofa is not! When it is cold, or dark, or hot, or wet, or snowing, etc…getting out the door is hard. Staying in bed is easy. So much of American culture is geared towards sloth, inactivity and Lotus-eating lifestyles that deciding to lace up the runners to have another go at that boulder…it can be tough. And it doesn’t matter if you are a new runner just starting to get into shape, or a seasoned vet getting back into shape for whatever reason, climbing back up that mountain sucks…at first.
But here’s the secret that a seasoned vet knows that a new runner might not…it gets easier. Unlike Sisyphus, if we persevere and push that boulder far enough up the mountain, gradually the slope lessens. If we maintain, if we continue exercising, if we continue with healthy lifestyle choices, then we can stay up top for a while.
These are a few of the happy folks in my life who know the joy of putting in the hard work to be able to keep smiling on the other end of a long, hard run. It’s good to surround yourself with people like this!!!
And it’s FUN up there. It is incredibly rewarding to be able to go for a long run or a grueling hike and come out the other end feeling tired – but energized all the same. It feels good to feel good. So…I put my wandering mind back on a leash and finished that mediocre run. And then I went on another…and another…and another…and so on. Each time I manage to push that stupid boulder a little higher up the mountain. Wherever you are on the mountain, keep pushing, keep climbing, keep working. Sisyphus might disagree, but it is so worth it! Seize the Carp!
Having completed a 55k run back in February, perhaps I can be forgiven for fancying myself an “ultra” runner, capable of casually knocking off lengthy trail runs. Well gentle reader, today my hubris was exposed. I had my gluteus maximi served up to me on a silver platter by the Grand Canyon. Thank you Canyon – lesson learned.
Over the years I’ve had the opportunity to hike all portions of the Tonto trail that lie east of the Bright Angel trail. For some time I’ve been contemplating the segment that runs west of the Bright Angel trail to the Hermit Trail. Sharon was out of town, the weather finally cooperated, seemed like the time was right for a run. The plan was simple…leave the house to arrive at the trailhead at first light. Check. Load up the running vest with sufficient food, water, appropriate clothes, camera, etc. Check. Run down the Bright Angel – hang a left at Indian Gardens and blithely jog across the Tonto and then cruise up the Hermit trail. I even thought of tacking on some extra distance at the end (if necessary) to make this run/hike a full 26.2 mile marathon. See definition of hubris above.
Things started out well enough. As soon as I dropped below the rim, the wind died completely and the weather was perfect. There were more deer than people on the trail. The ominous clouds to the north stayed to the north. I felt good.
The Tonto trail west was in good shape, was generally Canyon flat, and made for good running. (I should say at this point that my trail running generally leads any onlookers to wonder if I’ve misplaced my walker.) Be that as it may, Tonto west did not disappoint.
Inner gorge and first view of the river.
Salt Creek. This couple’s brand new water filter stopped working. They were planning on heading over the Horn Creek and needed water. Fortunately they brought iodine tablets as a back up. Smart.
Quite a few different plants were flowering. Not lush – but still pretty
Interesting rock formation at Monument canyon. Met some really great people camped there. They were thrilled to hear that the weather forecast had changed and the chance of rain had dropped dramatically. They were also nice enough to share some water. Looks like some pretty sweet camping.
Raft trip ready to run Hermit rapid.
Eventually the Tonto met up with the Hermit trail. According to my gps watch I’d traveled 16-17 miles by this point. I figured another 7-8 miles up, across and up the Hermit. I was tired but thought I’d just speed hike up and out. This was where the Canyon delivered an ego shattering smack down. As soon as I started climbing I realized I was shot. My feet, shins and calves were periodically cramping…sometimes solo, sometimes in three part harmony. My stomach figuratively flipped me a double bird. I shuffled along at approximately the pace of a dying tramp. If I survived the climb and made it back to civilization I had serious thoughts of becoming a NASCAR fan….forget this running around nonsense and spend my weekends parked on the sofa, drinking beer watching cars go ’round in circles.
Can’t remember ever being so happy (relieved) to reach a trailhead. The tourist in the background perfectly expressed my feelings at that moment towards the Hermit trail.
Now, many hours later, after a long hot shower, an hour lying in bed and half a large Oregano’s pizza later, I’m beginning to feel human (and extremely humble) again. So maybe it was a good day after all.
Friday before the race a group of us took a casual hike out to this arch located not too far from the finish line.
Still smiling (awesome photobomb mutton man)
Stupid Fun en masse
Aaron enjoying the slick rock
This is what delirious optimism looks like…
Cailie B. rockin’ it
Vanessa and Oliver prepping for some finish line excitement
A jubilant Kate…bested last year’s finish by 20 minutes.
A relieved old man
Oliver and Aaron
“stu·pid fun” ˈst(y)o͞opəd/ fən/ (noun) Definition: Any activity that elicits the response “that’s stupid” from folks who do not participate in said activity, but which at the same time elicits an enthusiastic “whoa – that sounds like fun!” from individuals who participate in the same or similar activities. Can also be used as an adjective.
Last weekend I had a heapin’ helpin’ of stupid fun. I was part of a crowd of about two hundred folks who gathered on the outskirts of Moab…in the rain…in 45 degree weather…to run up and down and around on slick trails for 34 miles…and we paid good money for the privilege. Hearing it described that way, we may have made it a bit too easy for folks to emphasize the “stupid” side of the “stupid fun” equation. But you know what, it was fun. Really…it was! It was also really hard, and amazingly beautiful, and incredibly satisfying. In the week since the run, I’ve had plenty of time to replay the events of the day. Allow me to share a few thoughts about this particular run and ultra-running in general.
The top ultra athletes are aliens. Sherlock Holmes famously said, “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” The speed at which the top athletes cover long distances over incredibly difficult terrain is simply not humanly possible. While it may seem improbable, the only possible conclusion is that they are aliens from some distant planet of long distance runners. Enough said.
It helps to be around people you want to be like. Flagstaff has gained a reputation as a mecca for trail runners. Every year hundreds of folks from Flagstaff gather in Colorado for the stupid fun Imogene Pass Run. Both the previous and current holder of the fastest known time (FKT) for a rim to rim to rim across the Grand Canyon live in Flagstaff. I’ve had a beer with a two time winner of the Western States 100. (Well, technically I had a beer in close proximity to the really nice alien who won the Western States.) Bottom line, if you decide to do something hard – like an ultra, it helps to be surrounded by people who are doing the same thing, who are encouraging and supportive, who are pushing themselves to do even harder things. Seems like there might even be a broader life lesson in there somewhere. It is a lot easier to adopt a healthy lifestyle if you hang around with people who are living healthy lifestyles vs. hanging with the ‘party-til-you-puke-put-down-roots-couch-potato” crowd.
Running (even an ultra) doesn’t matter! I ran 34 miles in just over 7 hours. I did something physically challenging. It was tremendously satisfying to have accomplished something difficult like this. In the big picture…so what? I didn’t cure cancer. I have to remind myself that I am so blessed to have the life I have that I can choose to do physically demanding things “for fun.” Around the world people are living hand to mouth. In the Khumbu region of Nepal, people carry insanely heavy loads from one village to the next for a handful of rupees in order to provide the bare, basic necessities of life. Good to keep things in perspective.
Ultimately, its about people. Running tends to be a solitary endeavor. Almost all my training in preparation for this run was done alone. And that’s fine, I enjoy spending time in my head and I enjoyed moving at my own pace through the beautiful northern AZ landscape. Looking back on the Moab run though, it was people that made it such an enjoyable event. I was able to run the entire 1st half with our oldest son, who now has young son of his own. Real circle of life stuff…pretty powerful. I ended up running the last several miles with Kate the brewery QA from CA. Our on and off conversation during those long, last miles really helped pass the time. Having my lovely bride, daughter-in-law and grandson at the finish line gave me a lump in my throat and that familiar finish line adrenaline boost. Having other friends gather to run the shorter distance (only 18 miles) or to hike the day before, or just to sit around, tell stories, laugh, made the weekend the special time that it was. Again, seems like there might a larger life lesson in there somewhere.
Bottom line, you don’t have to run an ultra to push yourself beyond your normal limits, or to recognize the joy of having good people in your life, or to recognize the things that truly matter in life, or even rub shoulders with friendly aliens! Although it will be easier to do the last one if you come visit Flagstaff. STC! (seize the carp)
physically demanding things “for fun.” Around the world people are living hand to mouth. In the Khumbu region of Nepal, people carry insanely heavy loads from one village to the next for a handful of rupees in order to provide the bare, basic necessities of life. Good to keep things in perspective.