One month and 4,400+miles

I'm one day away from having officially been on the road for a month, and in that time I've driven over 4,400 miles, about 3,300 of those on my own. I've seen old friends, places I used to live, and met new people and seen new places. I've mailed letters and postcards from at least five different states, and I've stayed in or driven through a total of 15 states up to this point. Soon I'll go one more state north from where I currently am, and it will be the farthest north I've ever been in the United States.
All of this wandering is not without purpose, in fact, it is quite purpose driven. I initially went to Portland, Oregon, partially to visit old friends and primarily to renew my Wilderness First Responder certification. For 10 days I split my time between catching up with folks, attempting to be a tour guide both remotely&directly for my trip companion, and spending 8-10 hours in class each day. While in class I managed to suffer from: a kick to my spleen from an ornery horse, a blow to the head by a branch I didn't see due to the girth of my cowboy hat, moderate hypothermia, diabetic shock, severe asthma attack, broken humerus, general unresponsiveness...I can't remember all of my ailments, perhaps because of the blows to my head. All of these, of course, were strictly hypothetical. I also dealt with being the Incident Commander for a triage situation, tib-fib fractures, femoral fractures, kidney stones, severe gastro-intestinal distress, spinal injuries, minor cuts, and more. This is what I love about wilderness medicine in general, and the Wilderness Medicine Institute specifically: its hands on, its realistic, and it truly prepares you to think on your feet and make the best of whatever resources you have available. If you've ever been interested in wilderness medicine, check them out. With any luck, someday I could be one of your instructors. As you can imagine, this is a lot of information to absorb in 10 days, and there is certainly some stress that comes into play around the idea of taking both a practical and written exam, so what better way to calm the nerves of my fellow classmates than to make donuts. Because, donuts make everything better. Due to the fact that I was on a strict budget, I started a dollars for donuts campaign in order to have money for the ingredients. It was successful, and everyone felt their money was well spent. I forgot to take a picture before any of the donuts were eaten, but I did manage to get a couple of shots:

Halfway eaten, before the test started.

The final remnants, written test complete and in the midst of practicals.

Once I was done with my class, I had a little more time for hanging out and was able to catch up a bit with some old friends and roommates. Sadly, my traveling companion had returned home, so I was back to solo adventuring. I made some new feline friends in the neighborhood where I was crashing, hung out with an old canine friend, helped to build a shed, was taught the art and process of chemex brewing and practiced it daily, subsequently drank a lot of coffee, read some books, had some rainy day netflix marathons, went for some nice runs, rode my bike, and just generally hung out. A brief pictorial collage of those days:

curious neighbor cat

puddle water fountain

the glorious art of the chemex

oh, coffee...

my adorable&wonderful pal Jonathan!

J's spectacular dog Sissy

the shed project, in progress. 

Eventually, the time came to hit the road again, and I headed East. After a long day of driving, covering about 550 miles, I landed in Missoula, MT, where I stayed with very welcoming friends of friends. Of course, as it ended up, I inadvertently knew one of the folks who lived there, and it was nice to have a chance to catch up and be geeks and talk about life, Montana, and EMT stuff. The weather there was a bit chilly, but really nice, and on the rest day that I spent in Missuola I went for a great little run in the hills around their house. Again, I'll let the pictures help to tell the story:

Mike Birbiglia, thank you for making this sign forever hilarious.

More feline friends

What can I say, they love me

More shed building projects

The first part of my run through Missoula's hills. 

Trail signs...eventually I ran them all.

Missoula from a hilltop

I saw the L in the distance, and decided I wanted to run to the top of it...

a small creek that ran through the neighborhood between the first set of hills and Mount Jumbo (the mountain with the L)

This has helped me realize how much I miss running water

Trailhead sign for Mount Jumbo

Trailhead sign for the first set of trails I explored

The top of the L

the start of a panoramic set from the top of the L, looking towards the hills where I started.

Another view from the top

Looking back to the L, headed back to the house

Not sure how it is that I manage to forget how much I love Montana every time after I leave, but Missoula was beautiful and a blast.

My rest day in Montana was wonderful, but I knew I needed to get the wheels rolling again, especially because I was expected to meet up with another friend in the town she grew up in, Fargo, ND and eventually drive her home to Minneapolis, where I would spend a few more days hanging out and not driving. The drive from Missoula was going to be a long one, so I kept track of my progress throughout the day. It looked like this:

About halfway there...

Last gas stop before the final push

Definitely glad to have this day of driving behind me. 

By the time I had made it to North Dakota and then Minneapolis, my wallet was hurting from all of the tanks of gas I had fed my car. But, there were still many miles to go, so I had to try and work out some useful hussles. I had been traveling with my track bike, with the intention of selling it, and now was the time to get serious. While I knew I would be sad to see the Baby Blue Bandit go, it was necessary. I also reached out to friends in the area in search of odd jobs, and managed to do some yard work in St. Paul to help make ends meet. However, working odd jobs and selling my bike were not the only things I did in Minneapolis, I also: drank more coffee, rode my bike around a lot, made a heart shaped pizza, caught up with old friends, revisited the glory of the jumping high-five with my friend, went to a trivia night and just general good times. More pics here:

Goodbye, Baby Blue Bandit, I'm glad you've got a new loving home

Many miles and memories. 

My steaming heart...

Vegan, gluten free and delicious.

The time came for me to continue further Eastward, and I made my way to Chicago. Again, staying with and catching up with old friends. I ate a delicious feast, was given a walking tour of Rogers Park and the shoreline there, and generally had a lovely time. My visit was brief, as I needed to keep moving, so after a good nights rest I made my way along some country highway roads to Toledo, Ohio. I drove through a lot of Amish country and passed a number of horse and buggies. Made it to Toledo and more catching up with old circus friends, a good nights sleep and back on the road for the last long haul of my easternly-travels. From Ohio I pushed it all the way to Berlin, Massachusetts, where I am currently typing this from. Here I am catching up with folks whom, after having done the math, I realized I have not seen for nearly eight years. But now, here I am, chasing their children around their co-housing complex and having an excellent time. Most mornings there is a knock upon my door, but curiously the first day I only found a water bottle. Today, I found this: 

The water bottle has added a lion, some cymbals, a mini skateboard,
a toothbrush and a marble to its morning wake-up crew.

I've explored the neighborhood trails, visited a beaver pond, seen a smaller frog pond with millions of tadpoles, found a tree frog on a bicycle, walked through an old cemetery, eaten local fresh delicious asparagus, met some chickens, met some cats&some dogs, bright yellow American Goldfinch's...

Well, that's more or less the last month in a nutshell. I'm sure I'm failing to relay many an interesting or amusing thing, but if I spend much more time trying to piece it all together, I may never get this done. 

More adventures ahead, as those wheels keep turning, keeping the rubber side down.

A Scramble, Redemption, and What Lies Ahead

I'll start by first explaining that, my last couple of races did not quite turn out the way that I had hoped. I've already rambled about my Across the Years experience. I started a post about my Black Canyon 100K race, but never managed to finish it- partly due to being busy and preoccupied with life and other things, but also because it was frustrating and disappointing, and I was having a difficult time writing much about it that didn't feel lame. Briefly, I will say this much about the Black Canyon 100K: this is an incredible race. Much of it was run on trails I had helped to cut from scratch while working with SCC and the BLM, and that was really satisfying. I mentioned in my Across the Years post the breathing difficulties I was having, and those have seemed to hang on. At one point I finally went to Urgent Care and was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection, which I'm still trying to shake. It reared its ugly and frustrating head too ferociously on the day of the Black Canyon race, as well as a sour stomach and some puking, and I ended up having to drop at the Gloriana Mine aid station around mile 23. To say that I was disappointed might very well be an understatement, but truth be told, I also had an incredible time just running and enjoying the trails, remembering rock bridges we'd built&recognizing them. It was like a game of hide and seek for work I'd done and specific bits and pieces of trail I'd remembered. So, although the race was my first official DNF, which was a pretty big bummer, I still had a great time.
This weekend I ran the Crown King Scramble 50K, and I found redemption in those hills. I am excited to run it again, to run it with more tenacity and better trained legs, to annihilate my time from this year, and to have a blast once again with a bunch of crazy runners in a tiny mining town. But I'm getting ahead of myself, already talking about what I'm planning to do about next year. Let me back up and break it down.
The race had two start times- the standard start at 6am and the early start at 5am. The early start was created for those folks who were concerned they might miss some of the time cut-offs. I'll be honest, I never considered this to be an option. Regardless of my pre-race training (or lack thereof, to be more accurate) I was determined to run it hard enough to make all the cut-offs within the standard time frame. I found myself at the Castle Creek boat ramp of Lake Pleasant, milling about with other runners around 5:30. Registered and ready to go, I tried to take in the scenery. I snapped a few pictures before the race started, as the sun started to make its way up into the sky.

Runners starting to line up at the edge of the lake.

RD James Bonnet kicking it in Safety Yellow. 

At 6am, with a countdown and a megaphone, we were off and on our way. The first couple miles rolled out on pavement until we hit the dirt roads. It was a nice way to get into a rhythm, keeping my pace reasonable, and not worrying about dust and dirt aggravating my lungs right away. The first enforced cut off was at the second aid station around mile 15, and I had three and a half hours to get there. The course is largely uphill, with a total of 6,750 feet of climbing over the 50K, so I didn't want to head out too fast and blow up, the trick was being conservative enough to make the first cut-off, but not so conservative that I was perpetually chasing the clock. To put the elevation in perspective, here's the race profile:


I managed to find a good rhythm right away, and just coasted along the first few miles. It was exciting to me when I realized I was approaching the first aid station, Cow Creek, at mile 8.5 and realized I hadn't even looked at my garmin. For me, this was awesome. I was running comfortably, I was in good shape for the cut-off at the second aid station, and I wasn't stressing out about my pace or how far I'd gone, or how much further there was to go...it was the first time in what felt like a long time that I was at such ease, and it bolstered my confidence that things would turn out well. I joked with myself that it wasn't to be a bad year of races for me because, technically, this was the first race I had entered since the Chinese new year...so it was my first race of the year! Leave the past behind me! The miles kept clicking away.
This entire course was really beautiful. I managed to stop a few times to snap some random photos. All I have for such things right now is my phone, so the quality is poor, but you can at least get a sense of things.

Looking back towards where we had started, the sunrise complete and Lake Pleasant in the background.

Following the white arrows to stay on course, tried to capture the road sign with arrows to Crown King...its a bit small

First aid station at mile 8.5, moving right along. 

I made it to the second aid station at French Creek under three hours, the cut-off being 3.5 hours from the start. I was feeling great- not fast, but not sluggish, just slow and steady, which I was more than happy to take.
The dirt road we ran on is a shared, multi-use road. I saw my fair share of atvs, dirt bikes, and even one mountain biker. It was funny to watch the groups of atv riders, out for their weekend jaunt, pass random runners and wonder at why in the world we would be doing this. For the most part, all of them were very courteous, slowing down as they passed, etc. One rider, seemingly frustrated by the foot traffic we created, came dangerously close to hitting a group of ladies running in front of me, going up a hill somewhere around mile 18 or so. Fortunately for all of us, it was nothing more than a close call, and everyone was fine. I must say though, my orange bandana bandit mask that I used every time a vehicle went by was a life saver.
So, my feet kept moving, which was really all that I needed them to do. The folks at the mile 19.1 Silver Mountain aid station were great, and mentioned that the next three or so miles to the next aid station were really tough. Having not memorized the course, and not feeling like taking a look at my elevation profile I had in my pack, I just filled up my water bottles, reapplied my sunscreen with the help of a volunteer, filled my second water bottle with the most fantastic frozen slush of coconut water I have ever tasted, and headed out. I kept waiting for the challenging part of those three miles...but it was smooth sailing. My feet still kept moving, and at a pretty decent pace. This whole section was completely runnable. Considering that the first two aid stations had 8.5 and 7+ miles between each other, this was cake Add to the greatness of the mile 22.3 Fort Misery aid station that all the volunteers were dressed as SUPER HEROES! I was focused on just moving in and out of there, so I didn't think to take any pictures of their greatness. However, I did manage to snap a pic of one of their more ominous warning signs as I was leaving the aid station:

Holy Hills was right...now the climbing was truly going to begin. 

So, I'll come back to my earlier proclamation. For me, I feel safe in saying that a good 95% of this race is runnable, given the right focus and training. I think I managed to run/slog about 65% of the race, the rest of it fast hiking. The hills were certainly there, and a bit of a challenge, but nothing out of control. And all the little mini dips and flat-ish looking pieces of the elevation profile that you can find, yeah, I was definitely running those. Then, I started to get closer to the Oro Belle aid station...which was at the top of a hill. A short hill. But a steep hill. The folks at this aid station definitely had a sense of humor, providing a self serve adult diaper station midway up the hill, for people who wanted to be babies about it, along with other spectacularly sarcastic signs of encouragement.

This was an attempt to get a picture this old water tank I though was cool. If you look closely, you can see the lighter brown line that is the road climbing towards Oro Belle. 

They were not kidding. 

"What did you expect? It's an uphill race DUH!" It kind of just speaks for itself.

Happy to be at Oro Belle aid station, just 2 more miles of climbing left before the decent into Crown King!

Keeping the same strategy that I had started with, and just rolling with it...I simply kept moving my feet forward. I was stoked when I saw the Amateur Radio guy hanging out by his truck, knowing he was probably marking the summit and the final ascent into Crown King. Sure enough, that's exactly what he was doing. 'Welcome to the summit, its all downhill from here!' I had this in the bag. It wasn't a fast race, it wasn't embarrassingly slow. It was just a return to where I needed to be. It was going to be a finish. And it was going to feel great.
I ran those last two miles in, and at a pretty decent pace, considering all the climbing I had behind me. I'll admit that the smile on my face became exponentially larger as I realized I was almost there, and knew that my sweetheart was going to be volunteering at the finish line. As I made my way closer into the finish, I could hear the music, I could smell the food...and then, I was there! Cut-offs be damned, I made it. No DNF this time, and a finish line reward of more than just a sweet mason jar, but a smooch and a hug from the one I love...it was pretty excellent.
When I had decided to run this race, I had booked a room at the Bradshaw Mountain Bed and Breakfast. We stayed in the Eagle's Nest room, and it was perfect. The stairs I had to walk up and down kept my legs from getting stiff, the shower was glorious, the random cable tv was wonderful in providing us with Sister Act, and Sister Act 2. (Thanks Whoopi Goldberg aka Sister Mary Clarence) I relaxed, had dinner cooked for me, and then we headed down to the Saloon for a couple drinks and more canoodling with fellow ultra runners. The band that had been playing at the finish line was there in the Saloon for a repeat performance, there was dancing, it was the perfect end to a really wonderful day.

Getting their groove on at the Crown King Saloon.

Briefest of brief recaps: this race is something I would highly suggest, and I certainly plan to do again. Logistically, I couldn't have done this without the fantastic help, love and support of my parents and my girl.
Random stuff I didn't mention in the main body of this post: my nutrition seemed to be spot on for this race, and it was extremely simple. In total I had maybe one package of ProBar Bolt energy chews, one chia bar, a couple gluten free ginger snaps, the equivalent of one red potato, dipped in some salt, a dixie cup of ginger ale, a dixie cup of cola, the glorious partially frozen coconut water slush, and plenty of water...pretty sure that's it. I've realized, the lighter I eat, the better off I am, so long as I keep tabs on it enough to avoid bonking. So far, so good.

Also, I should say this much as well- there's not a single Aravaipa race out there I wouldn't suggest. These guys know what's up. They are well organized, have great courses, fantastic volunteers...pretty much anything you could want in an ultra. If you're ever in Arizona, sign up for one of their races. If you live here, what are you waiting for? Support this amazing local business.

The race at the end of an interesting year...

I'll simply start by saying, and this is an understatement, the past 12 months that made up the year 2013 were challenging. I embarked on new endeavors, I started some things that are now finished, some things finished that I never really started, and every other ambiguous analogy for stuff happening that I could potentially come up with.
But this post ins't about rehashing the last 12 months that are now behind me...the initial intention of this post was to speak briefly about my experience at Aravaipa Running's Across the Years race, my first attempt at a timed event. Knowing that my running has been sporadic due to balancing injury recovery with work and school schedules, I did my best to be realistic with my personal goals and distance hopes. 83 has been my lucky number for a long time, honestly I couldn't even tell you why, how is that for an anti-climatic anecdote? Still, I figured that 83 miles in 24 hours was more than reasonable, so that was my hope. Then, of course, my brain got to thinking and mathematical probabilities and equations ensued and I even got to a place where I had figured that 100 miles was still within reach, if I really wanted to put my head down and get to it.
So what happened? How far did I go? Do I have a new belt buckle to add to my collection?
No. I fell sick two days before the race. I coughed my way through the night for both nights preceding it, and was told the morning of the race by part of my support crew that I 'sounded like shit' and was asked to reconsider even going. So, of course, I went. I held onto the hope that my lungs would magically clear in the 25 minute drive to the race, and figured I'd just start off smart and slow and hope for the best.
To paint a picture of what was going on in my lungs, imagine this: visualize your breath as an elevator, and your lungs as a 12 story building. A full breath would start up on the roof and go all the way down to the 1st floor lobby. My full breath, an hour before the race was to start, was only getting from the roof to about the 4th floor, but that was still manageable. I could and would work with that. I saw some people I knew, I chatted with them briefly, I got last minute words of wisdom from Nick Coury about race approach and strategy (he thought I had a good handle on it), I did that thing I always do at any ultra- connect with other crazy people with whom I have at least one thing in common, the willingness to willingly run pretty far for fun.
We counted it down together and our group of 24hour runners got started at 9am on December 31st. The plan was to run through and into the new year. This was a new start, all of this years trips and falls and tribulations would be left in the dust behind me and I'd move confidently forward.
By about the fourth lap my elevator was going down to about the 6th floor. I was doing my best to ignore it and just press forward.
Because the outcome is predictable, I'll make this a brief recap. Less than four hours in, before the first direction change, it was obvious to me in the logical portion of my brain that I was only going to make myself more sick and that the elevator was becoming less and less cooperative. In the stubborn, willful, driven portion of my brain, I put on a brave face for my mom and nephews as they cheered me on, and tried to keep it equally convincing for my special chauffer/signmaker/cheerleader who also showed up to support me. By the time my mom returned with my nephews having been exchanged for my dad, I was convincing myself that, since I was not yet cyanic and that I could still feel most of my face, in spite of extremely shallow breathing, that I was okay to keep going. That illusion did not last long, the elevator was only getting to about the tenth floor. With the support and encouragement of my loved ones around me, I decided that the right decision for my health was to call it a day before I was headed to the hospital.
And so, my first attempt at a 24 hour race resulted in 8 hours total at the race, and about 6 of it spent slowly moving and wheezing around the course. I ended up with 31.494miles/50.685K officially recorded. Technically, that's an ultra, so I reminded myself.
I was disappointed. Not with my effort, but with my body's limitations. So it goes. I learned something, which always seems to come with every race, and so I'm quite glad for that.
Looking forward, the first 12 days of this year have been interesting, trying and unexpected. I've picked my next race, and am excited to be training to run the Crown King Scramble 50K, and also excited to be treating myself to an overnight stay at one of Crown King's old lodging cabins.
I've also come to terms with the fact that the aftermath of having broken my hand (and my radius) has caused damage enough that my future plans as a massage therapist/yoga instructor are pretty much off the table/mat. I'm hoping to work things out with my school and figure out what, if anything, I can walk away from all of this with other than a giant basket full of nothing. I do have hope.
So, I embark upon this new year running. Some things I'm running towards, some things I'm running from, sometimes I'm just running aimlessly, other times with great purpose, and in my better moments, I run in the concentration and spirit of meditation.
I hope the new year has brought everyone some sort of new challenge and perspective, and I dare you to make the most of it. 

Funemployment and a run up Mt. Wrightson

What, you may be asking yourself, is funemployment? Well...by my own personal definition, it was that awesome span of time (about a week) in which i was no longer employed at my old job where i had given my notice, had been hired for a new job, but was not yet scheduled for any work. Hence the term: funemployment. It lacks the stress of being unemployed, because there's not even a gap in paychecks, so its almost like a paid vacation. To my good fortune, this little paid vacation just happened to fall around the same weekend of the first run of the fall TTR running schedule. So, what better time to head down to Tucson to catch up with old friends and go for a run up the highest peak in the Tucson area, Mt. Wrightson. Oh, also, to add to the awesome, i decided to pack my trusty steed, my most spectacular custom built Saila bicycle...the very same one who suffered 2 separate attacks by cars that left me with broken bones, but through its own superpowers remained mostly unscathed. (confused? read here.)
I made my way down to the old pueblo late Wednesday and surprised some old friends on the Plush patio. Ponies were ridden, fun was had, and i crashed on the most comfy air mattress in Tucson. As usual, i woke up long before anyone else in the house was even dreaming of being awake, so i quietly made my exit, got my saila, recently dubbed the Black Knight for its tenacity, and rode around the sleepy streets in search of coffee.

The Black Knight. It looks like this, but acts like this. Hence the name. Cars be damned.

It felt really great to be back on my bike. Admittedly, a bit tentatively at first, but less than a mile in the saddle and i simply felt at home. My hand was tender and sore, to be sure. Gripping the brifters is still a bit of a challenge for my abused left hand, but i was certainly able to manage. i wandered, found some coffee, and did some writing. After enough time had passed for more of the old pueblo to wake up, i made my way over to the co-op to get the necessities for an awesome breakfast of (vegan/gf) biscuits and gravy, and then went to Antigone's to further enhance my funemployment free time and indulge in some guilty reading pleasures. Fortunately, i found self-restraint somewhere and only walked out with 3 new books. I made my way back to the sleepy household, fed my inn-keepers and left for more wandering about. It felt like everywhere i went i ran into someone i knew. It was awesome, and a bit overwhelming. I made dinner that evening with a great old friend who was also the owner of the couch i would be slumbering upon. We created a pretty spectacular (vegan/gf) shepherd's pie. It was tasty. We rounded out the evening with Roxanne. Such a hilarious classic. Another lazy day followed, filled with monsoon rains and torrential downpours. More random and impromptu reunions with old friends and neighbors, more food making extravaganzas, this night ending in some pretty great pizza (do you need the parentheses? yes, vegan&gf) and an engaging and intriguing game of the Settlers of Catan. Super fun.

Saturday i made my way down to Madera Canyon and the Bog Springs campground. It was beautiful and bright green, thanks to all the rains. It sprinkled here and there throughout the day, which kept the weather nice and cool. After setting up my tent i explored some of the trails around the campsite to try and determine my game plan/route to the start of the run early Sunday morning.

While there were definitely some relatively straightforward routes to get me from a to b, there was a lot of bear scat on the trails, and i even saw some mountain lion scat that wasn't quite covered up. i also saw tons of black caterpillars and a handful of coues deer, butterflies, hummingbirds, blue jays, and more natural awesomeness. Still, the bear scat and incognito mountain lion scat made me opt for running a short bit of trail and then mostly the road up to the trailhead Sunday morning. 

i spent the majority of the evening enjoying cool breezes in my tent and listening to the rainfall as i dove into one of my new books. It was perfect. i woke up around 4:45, stretched, yawned, got my stuff together, made sure everything was zipped up and rain safe or otherwise put away, and headed towards the trailhead. i was excited for the run, but knew that my lack of mileage due to recent injuries was certainly going to make it a slow and steady climb, still, i knew the views would be spectacular and that it would be completely worth it, no matter how slow i ended up being. 

There were some familiar and unfamiliar faces in the parking lot. It was a perfect morning, cloudy and cool and the peak of Mt. Wrightson was elusively cloaked behind the clouds. 

The way up, including the summit of Wrightson, a formidable 9,453ft, would span about 5.2miles of trail upwards, the way down could be the same 5.2, or possibly 7ish, if i chose to take the Super trail route down. As it would go, given my just getting back into it, and the 3.5 additional miles i would be adding in my roundtrip to and from the campground, i ended up sticking to the Old Baldy Trail both up and down. It felt so INCREDIBLE to be back on the trails and getting in some altitude. There was a lot to see and appreciate, it sprinkled here and there and kept the temps down. i had my rain shell in my pack but never took it out, as it actually felt really nice to get rained on after the scorching weather i'd been running through in the valley. While Mt. Wrightson is beautiful, it also has some tragic history. In 1958 a small group of Boy Scouts set out for a hike to commemorate one of the boys 16th birthday, planning to summit and then camp overnight. They were met with a record setting snowstorm, and 3 of the 6 boys who set out were lost to the weather. There are now two memorials on Mt. Wrightson to honor the boys who were lost, one on super trail, and one on Old Baldy. The Old Baldy memorial is simple, but encourages us all to take a moment, to pause and reflect, perhaps celebrate what we have, or maybe appreciate what we or others have lost. It simply asks, 'Strangers Pause Here and Remember.' What made this even more powerful was knowing that one of the survivors is connected to TTR and was there with us at the start of the morning.

I headed up the trail around 5:50am and fell into a decent pace. i didn't want to push it, as i knew both the altitude and the overall challenge of the run had the potential of being a rude reawakening to my post-broken-bone summer return to training. Still, i kept my head up, took it all in, and continued to put one foot in front of the other. i made the determination before all the brokenness to really be serious about training this year and to show up to races not just as a participant, but a competitor. That is still my goal, and while the lack of run training over the summer due to injuries has been really frustrating, i chose to leave this at the base of the trail and make my distance from it. This would be the start of my new training schedule, and i was excited to shake off the disappointment and frustration of injury thwarted summer and fall racing plans. This was my place to start fresh, to refocus and to get excited about what will be my 2014 racing schedule.

So, all of this in mind, i made my way up towards the summit. Slowly, without a doubt, but surely. At one point i was just a bit zoned out, in a section of swithcbacks, when i was startled back to myself and the world around me by a very enthusiastic individual approaching from behind. 'What?! No way! No f'n way! It can't be, Scout! What the hell are you doin, come on, lets go, lets move it. Move those feet kid.' Of course, i turned around, but i didn't need to, i knew it couldn't be anyone other than a TTR legend, Bob Bachani. This guy is a beast, and hilarious, and has done pretty much every incredible trail 100 that is on my bucket list. I love this guy, and was stoked to see him on the trail. i picked up the pace a bit and we caught up with each other, but my legs and my lungs just didn't want to work that hard on a Sunday, so i fell back. We caught each other again as he was leaving the summit and i was a couple tenths of a mile away, he told me 'Hurry up, i want to see you in that parking lot, now go get it.' i smiled, pushed my way through the last bits of trail and made it to the summit. It was spectacular. Right as i made it to the top, looking north, there was a break in some of the clouds and a full rainbow. What a fantastic reward. 

Can you see the rainbow?

I had told myself that when i reached the top I would run through at least one round of surya namaskar. What better place to do it? I love yoga, and i love my yoga practice, but nothing feels better than practicing in the places where i feel most at home- outside, connected to the world. My legs and lungs both appreciated the pause and i felt energized and ready to head back down the trail. i did my best to try and take a panoramic series of pics. Admittedly, my phone camera has suffered a handful of drops (and car vs bike accidents) but i think you can get a feel for how incredible this was. i was in the clouds and above them, surrounded by greenery and wildflowers, the rubble left behind from an old fire watch tower cabin, so much to take in. So worth the small amount of work it took to get up there.

Knowing i would summit the highest peak in the Tucson area (9,453ft) i proudly sported my Run Steep Get High shirt courtesy of those fantastic folks at Aravaipa Running.

I made my way down, making much better time than the climb up. i found myself being a little more cautious in some areas than i may have been in the past, concerned with the thought of taking a fall, trying to catch myself and re-injuring my recently mended and still mending bones. It will be interesting to see how that develops over the next few months. Downhills, scrambles and picking a good and fast line on a trail have always been a strength, i really don't want to see that be lost due to timidity picked up from non-running related broken bones. All the same, one step, one stride at a time and i know i'll get to where i want to be. 

The parking lot reunion was great. RD and another TTR legend Gene Joseph had a pretty great spread on his tailgate. I ate a monster nectarine, a couple dill pickles and drank an izzee. It was just what the trail doctors had ordered. After catching up and even meeting some new TTR members, i made my way back to my campsite. Knowing i had the advantage of daylight on my side, i took the trails back, and saw more deer, birds, caterpillars, wildflowers and just generally beautiful awesomeness. 

My Funemployment vacation was everything i could have hoped for and more. I'll see y'all out there on the trails. 

Special thanks, in no particular order:

dr. theopolis, kristen, shanaynay, hansel, carlyn, squid, daxve, holly, the co-op peeps, mr. robbins, aisha, logan, all the TTR folks, the grand puba mr. bachani, gj (i hope your femur continues to heal quickly!), mia, bowie, saya, pansie and everyone else who either directly or indirectly helped me have such a fantastic time.