The Pictorial Companion to My Very Own Forest!
Okay, so just remember, these were all taken at best guess, as there was no viewfinder on the camera I was using. That being considered, I think these turned out pretty well. Hope you enjoy.
The start of the day, Three Rivers Trail
SCC Crews at work
The work get-up. Safety first.
Somewhere around the start of my hike/slow-fastpack to the next crew.
Trying to capture the ridiculousness of my 'fastpack' pack.
Glad this wasn't me.
The haze in the sky is from the smoke of fires more than 200 miles away!
I would happily live in that cave.
Lunch Break!!
Happy dirty trail legs.
Nearing the ridgeline.
Top of the ridgeline, I made it!
Trail junctions.
Enjoying an afternoon with temps below 100.
This is an attempt of a panoramic, pic 1
Panoramic 2
Panoramic 3
Panoramic 4
The next place I was headed.
Can you see the trail? So much fun, this was the fastest part of my day.
Can you read this old trail sign? Yeah, me neither.
Elk!!! There were so many of them, and they were bugeling a lot!
Nearing the end of my day.
Happy dirty feet, about 9 miles overall on day one.
Home sweet home.
Morning stretch and safety circle.
Clean campsites are safe campsites for people and animals. Check out that awesome bear hang!
The not-so-fastpack, ready for the short homestretch of day two.
Nearly there.
The white spots on the horizon are actually the sands of White Sands, NM.
Trying to capture the ridiculousness of my pack in a shadow.
Originally written in my notebook Tuesday afternoon/evening, lying on my sleeping bag.
The State of Things
Currently, the Southwestern United States (my home) is an absolute tinderbox. As a result, many National Forests in the area (my playgrounds) are closed. So, in spite of knowing full well the work that would pile up in my absence, I was stressed out but excited to be heading to New Mexico for a field visit. You see, the forest is closed to the public, but we are still out there working; clearing corridor, cutting tread, creating trails and rehabilitating existent ones. So, in a sense, today I had my very own forest.
I borrowed a work camera, and took plenty of pictures. They will become a part of this post if, when I get back to the grid and look at them, any of them are good. While they have the potential to be much higher quality than my phone photos (no real feat there) you must understand that the viewfinder on this camera is completely busted. I took pictures of what I thought I had the camera pointed at, but no real sense of what was actually in the frame.
While its all still fresh in my mind, I'm going to write this all down. I'll deal with incorporating the potential pictures later.
Back up to the Beginning
My New Mexico adventure started around 10:30am on Monday. I managed to put most things in order and headed out of the office, ran a few last minute errands, and hit the interstate. By the time I was approaching Hwy 83 you could see the smoke from the fires in the Huachucas. By Benson, the additional smoke from fires in the Chiricahuas created a haze so thick you hardly needed sunglasses. The smoke was palatable through the air vents, and I could feel my lungs tighten. My goal was to simply get through it safely and not stop until Las Cruces, in the hopes of preventing an asthma attack.
Well, as I know, even the best laid plans often fail. The front left tire on my work vehicle blew out just outside of Lordsburg. I safely pulled to the side of the road and went about changing the tire. As I was lowering the jack and getting ready to tighten the bolts on the spare, two sheriff cruisers pulled up behind me. They looked at my blackened, grease covered hands and asked if I needed help. I told them no, but they were welcome to finish tightening the bolts if they really wanted something to do. They were both very nice and joked about their timing, showing up after I'd done all the dirty work.
While changing the tire, the smoke was thick and I could feel myself starting to wheeze. I really didn't want to deal with asthma complications. I had serious plans and ambitions about this field visit, and I did not want to see them fall through. I stayed the course to Las Cruces, took advantage of my hands-free set and had a really nice conversation catching up with my mom. Gassed up in Las Cruces and headed to Alamagordo. Stretched my legs, picked up a few last minute supplies, and made my way to the Three Rivers campsite to meet up with two of our crews.
The Double Header
My plan was this: work Monday morning with the first crew, heading in on the Three Rivers trail. Assuming all was going well, I'd then part ways no later than lunchtime and pseudo-fastpack my through a circuit of trails to meet up with the other crew, arriving no later than dinner time.
Let me just be clear- fastpacking is not designed for all the gear I have to carry to work on the trail: boots, hardhat, long pants, gloves, etc. It is even less ideal for a person intending to carry all aforementioned items, plus water, food, shelter and sleeping bag...but I will say, I did my best, and to an extent I managed to make it work.
Crew Number One
I had checked in with both of the crews upon my arrival, and determined work start times, etc. The first crew I would be working with would meet me at the trail head at 0700 Tuesday morning for our Stretch and Safety Circle, morning PT and hike into the worksite. Although we are allowed access to work in the forests, we are still under the same fire restrictions as everybody else. For our crews that means getting even more creative than is usually necessary for our backcountry hitches, as there is absolutely no flame/fires allowed. I had packed a simple dinner of avocado, crackers, hummus and kale salad. I certainly didn't mind the lack of cooking. Having efficiently packed everything in preparation for my slow-fastpack, I didn't want to undo it all Monday night, so I slept in the backseat of my work vehicle. Ah, the benefits of being a shrimpy dude! The moon was almost full and quite incredible. The only disadvantage to a nearly full moon is that its harder to see the stars...but it was still a lovely night. I read some of Bryon Powell's book Relentless Forward Progress until my eyes were too tired to track words on a page, drifted off to sleep, and looked forward to the next days adventures.
I woke up a good hour before my alarm, took the extra time to do some long stretching, got dressed, ate my breakfast and headed to the trailhead. It's always fun to look at the old NFS signs that are up, particularly those about how to camp safely. True, many things have stayed the same over the years, and I always enjoy the old drawings depicting campfires and bear hangs and such. The crew made their way to the trailhead right around 0700, as expected. We did our 30minutes of PT, voiced our safety concerns for the day and how to mitigate them. It was a perfect morning, nice and cool, but not cold.
Ready to get started, we all grabbed an assortment of tools we would need for the day, and started our hike in. The primary focus for us would be improving the corridor. In most spots the tread was in good shape, but there were a lot of areas of overgrowth, both encroaching the sides of the trail and overhead. All of the trails in this area of the Lincoln are open to equestrians, so that means a 10' clearance overhead. I had been handed a pole saw, so that was my tool for the morning. I set to work on the taller overhangs, and my arms got a sweet little workout. I worked with the crew until their first morning break, and it was nice to get the chance to work alongside most of them and get to know them all a bit better. Usually, I meet all of the incoming corps members for a session on the orientation day, and then we send them on their way and I don't see them for another 2 weeks. Remembering faces is easy enough, but I much prefer to also know names and a little bit about each member. Also, its nice for me to be able to work with them in the field, and not just directing them on their rig-up and de-rig duties in the office. I'm not just an office monkey!!!
We took our break a little after 1000, I ate some snacks, drank some water, hiked up a game trail to change out of my work clothes and into my 'running' clothes, repacked my pack, thanked the crew for letting me work with them, and headed out on the trail.
From 6900 to 9600 in about 6 miles
The winds had picked up a bit overnight and in the morning, and as I headed out and up the Three Rivers Trail, I could taste the smoke again. Strange, knowing that the closest fires were at least 200 miles away. As the name of the trail may imply, it largely follows a creek bed, up and out through the White Mountain Wilderness of the Lincoln National Forest. In spite of the dry spring that we have had, the Lincoln did have a decent snowfall this winter, so there were still a fair number of wet spots and pools along the creek, and some areas where the water was actually flowing. I knew that the majority of my trek would be on an incline, so I simply tried to maintain as consistent of a pace as possible, without being to aggressive. After all, I had plenty of daylight, and a nearly full moon if necessary, so I was sure to take in the sights around me.
All along the trail there were many cairns. For me, within reason, I try and find a rock, usually a pretty small one, as I approach a cairn, particularly those along more difficult passes; across creek beds, along ridges, etc. I find my rock, and I place it amidst the cairn, as a request for safe passage. Perhaps its silly to some, but it just seems natural to me, and history goes to show that many people, many cultures, have felt the same throughout time. Sometimes I set stones with a specific person in mind, or a particular wish.Sometimes I try to find a particular shape of a stone as I approach a cairn. I have a tendency to find heart shaped rocks, and those are often my contribution. At one point along my adventure, I found a rock that strongly resembled the silhouette of Totoro. I thought that, Totoro being king of the forest, the shape was quite fitting.
The Wilderness
It's one thing to go backpacking in a wilderness area and not see many people as you make your way. It's a whole other world to know that you will not come across another human being until you reach your next destination. It was with this in mind that I continued along the trail and felt completely engulfed in the wonder and magic of it all. I mean really, how often are you likely to find your own private forest? This was incredible. I just couldn't help it, the fantastical worlds of Hayao Miyazakikept crossing my mind. Around every bend I expected to see spirits of the forest dancing about in the trees, and to an extent I did. I heard birds throughout the day, I saw lots of mountain lion scat, but no cats. (That was a bit of a relief) Some of our crews had seen bears on their previous hitch, but I didn't see any during my hike. After about 2 hours and 4 miles, I decided it was time for lunch. I found a nice shady spot under some large trees near the creek. The sound of water was soothing, and I took a quick power nap. I awoke after what felt like an hour or more, only to find that 10minutes had passed, I love that! Just one of the advantages to being a supersleeper, I guess. (Thanks for that link Maegan) I finished up my lunch, got everything repacked and prepared to press on.
As I continued to climb and get closer and closer to the ridgeline, I started to feel as though there was something in the trees around me. I made a little noise, just to prevent taking anything bigger and stronger than me by surprise, I stopped and looked around, but didn't see anything. I continued along the open switchbacks heading up to the top of the crest, and then I saw it, tentatively watching me from a small grove of trees, there was a beautiful elk. I waved, and made some noise, figuring it would be enough to spook it but not upset it. It looked at me as though I was a very strange alien being (which I suppose, technically I was) gave a small bugle, and ran down the hillside.
From the top of the ridge, I had an incredible 360 view. To the southwest I could even see the white glow of White Sands far off in the distance. As I made my way to the multiple trail junctions at the top of the ridge, I was very glad to have my compass with me, to be sure of my next direction. There were signs, but in referencing the signs with my map they weren't exactly clear. Again, thankful to have my compass. With the guidance of my compass, things lined up, and I figured out the right way to go. I knew this was the place where I would begin my descent, and I'll admit I was quite excited about that.
I started my 'run' down the grassy switchbacks. I say 'run' because, in spite of my best efforts, my pack was just a little to large to fall into a comfortable fast rhythm. So, I suppose it would be more accurate to call my efforts a 'slog,' but even that I was happy with. It felt great to be moving a bit more swiftly. Oh, I nearly forgot, this was the real debut of my new running shoes, which I am extremely happy with! I'm using the Merrell trail gloves, and they feel great. (Thanks to Joe P for the input as I was trying to make up my mind about them)I was a little worried that the traction wouldn't be aggressive enough, but even with inconsistent trail surfaces and the added weight of a full pack, I found my footing without any problem.
As I continued down the switchbacks, I heard a bugle, slowed down, and looked around. I saw the most elk I've ever seen at once, just down the hillside from me. Calves, cows and bulls, it was spectacular. They kept an eye on me, and I kept an eye on them. Really hoping not to spook the cows with their babies, as they can turn very aggressive if they feel their little ones are in danger. I made silly noises, waved my arms, and just generally looked like a bit of a lunatic, coming down the trail. It was really a blast. They'd look at me like I was nuts, bugle, move a bit further away, stop under some trees and chill until I came closer again. They'd bugle, look at me, move along...we did this for a solid 25 minutes, as the switchbacks kept taking me closer, then further, then closer again.
I came to another trail junction, this one with old signs that were practically impossible to read, I guessed my trajectory again, with the help of my compass, and was glad it wasn't the trail that was heading directly towards the elk. Now I was heading toward them, but on the other side of a gully, so we were able to observe one another with more curiosity and amusement than concern and apprehension. What a treat. Before long I was at another junction, and knew I was nearing my last leg before reaching crew number two. I stopped for a small snack, some more water, and then headed down the trail. Boy, am I glad we are out here doing some work in these areas, this trail was in sorry shape. If it weren't for the flagging up in some spots, I would have completely lost the 'trail.' After about 3/4 of a mile or so, I thought I heard voices. Strange, I hadn't heard any but my own for the last 4 hours, and the introduction of other human noises was almost startling. I must have found the second crew. I kept slogging down the trail, and before I knew it, there they were. In spite of telling them my potential travel plans and arrival estimates, I still managed to startle them, which was amusing.
Crew Number Two
The second crew that I was visiting had spent their day packing up all of their food, gear and tools and making their way into their backcountry camp. While I was hiking through the wilderness and heading towards them, they were setting up tents, digging their latrine, rigging up their bear hang, etc. When I came upon them they were on an exploratory hike to get a sense of the work that would be ahead of them for the next week. I continued to head down the trail and then took a rest, waiting for them to come back to their water filtering spot. Depending on the flow of water, filtering water can be a very quick or a very slow process. With the low water levels and dry conditions that are currently keeping the forest closed, our filtering process was very slow. This was a good thing, in my opinion, in that it provided the first opportunity to chat with the crew and start to get to know them. When talking about the route I had taken to get to them, some were surprised, and Patrick, one of the crew leaders, told the crew 'You don't realize what Scout likes to do for fun.' And thus began our discussion of ultrarunning, why in the world a person would voluntarily do such a thing, why I get a sparkle in my eyes every time I talk about it, and what I have planned for future races. It was entertaining.
After we had all filled our water bottles, and the two crew dromedaries, we made our way to their camp. I was happy to set up my mini shelter, lay out my sleeping bag, and start to write things down. And that brings me to where I currently am. I can hear the crew getting ready to start their dinner, so I'm going to make my way over there and continue writing this later...or perhaps, I'll just jot down some notes of other things I'd still like to cover in this post, and type it all up when I get back on the grid. We'll see.
The Final, back on the grid, recollection and recap
I wheezed myself to sleep Tuesday night, the particulates in the air from the fires definitely took their toll, but I honestly felt great. I awoke quite early, as usual, and took the time for some nice long stretches before getting dressed, breaking down my camp and packing things up. I had breakfast with the crew, and joined them for their stretch and safety circle. I thanked them for letting me hang out with them, and wished them luck on their project. I assured them that the trail needed their help, and they'd have plenty of interesting work to do.
My final hike out only ended up being about 2.5 miles or so, moving fairly quickly along most of it, with the exception of a few steep dips and rises out of washes. I made it to the vehicle by mid-morning, cleaned up a bit, ate a snack, changed, and got ready for the long drive back to Tucson.
Fortunately, the return drive was truly uneventful, no blowouts, nothing to speak of. And that's about that. All I can say is, if you ever get the chance to have your very own forest, take it. It was absolutely magnificent.
A Note on the Pictures....the old laptop I'm borrowing from work is choosing not to recognize the camera. For now, no pictures, but I will try again with a different computer to load them up, assuming any of them turned out.
Music I had stuck in my head while on the trail...one is what I was raised on, the other is an homage to what I was raised on.
I’ve sat down with the intention of updating this blog many times in the last month, but nothing has come of it. To say that life has been busy since the Born to Run race would be a gross understatement. I knew that things around work were getting ready to be crazy with the approach of our summer session, but I thought surely, by now, I’d have had a moment or two to catch a breath… Alas, that is not the case. So, I write this somewhat tired and hastily, but with the intention of at least getting a few moments from this busy month written down, for posterity if nothing else.
The run to work
My first week back from California was quite busy. As the Logistics Coordinator, there are lots of details to attend to prior to the start of each session. I always do my best to look at the bright side of things, so when I needed to pick up a vehicle from our mechanic to get it to the office early in the morning, I was excited because that meant I would have a bonus of ~3.5 miles added to my morning commute. I did a ton of walking the week after the race while in L.A. and had squeezed in a short 4mile run the night after I had gotten back into town. My feet still felt a bit tired, but no more than I had expected. All systems go, this was encouraging, and I felt it was the best sort of payoff I could expect from fairly consistent training. I set out in the morning to run to Celia’s house to pick up the work rig, and everything was going fine. The route I take is slightly different than my normal morning commute, and is definitely more urban. Specifically, it’s a lot more concrete, pavement and cars. Still, its not unbearable. I was moving along at a decent pace, around 8:30/mile. At about a ¼ mile away from Celia’s, something happened…out of nowhere! All of a sudden, the muscles in the bottom of my right foot freaked out and felt as though they would all snap. WHAT?!!! This was insane. I slowed down to a jog, then a hop, then a slow and somewhat delicate walk. I made it to the rig, shaking my head, wondering what in the world was going on with my foot. When I made it back to the office in the work rig, I took off my sock and shoe to see if I could find the cause of my foot freak out. It was strange, the bottom of my foot was swollen, between the pads of my feet, and it was hot to the touch. Not. Fun. I iced it, I elevated it, I tried to stay off it. The staying off it side of things was nearly impossible, as my job doesn’t always lend to plenty of time sitting around. Then there was the problem of getting home. The beauty of living outside of the city limits is, well, living outside of the city limits. The disadvantages are few in my opinion, but highlighted in times such as this. Public transit doesn’t always reach the places you might need to get to. So, I took the city bus from my office to the stop closest to my house, which is still about 2 miles out. 2 miles, no big deal, but I was trying to be smart about not continuing to aggravate this mysterious new injury, mostly because I wanted to get back to running, sooner rather than later. Also, I’ll be honest, this was a feeling I’d never had in my foot, and it was starting to seriously freak me out. It truly felt like my tendons were going to snap. Not. Cool. I actually did the smart thing the next day, and drove into work. Even depressing the gas pedal caused tenderness, so I tried my best to mentally abandon my hope of running later in the evening. I placed a call to a friend who does massage, and begged for her help. Fortunately, she was able to oblige. We made dinner, hung out with her sweetheart son, and she worked her magic. To my good fortune she had recently learned hot and cold stone techniques, which really felt great. Our best guess was that I had seriously inflamed one of my ligaments, which had then pushed together two tendons, which then rubbed against each other, causing inflammation and irritation. Wow. Way to go foot, that’s some complicated stuff. She told me to stay off it, for as long as I could, and I promised to do my best. However, knowing that work was going to be hectic, I was seriously concerned about missing out on my morning and evening running commute, as I rely upon that for meditation and decompression. Still, I recognized that my foot needed some rest, so I would be better served to just lie off of it, so that I could get back to my regular running routine sooner.
The Little Red Rocket, Resurrected
Since I couldn’t run, and cycling on my track frame felt equally taxing on my foot, I temporarily brought my old road bike out of retirement. You didn’t really think I was just going to drive everywhere, right? So, I pumped up the tires, excavated my cleats from the depths of my closet, and traded my running commute for a cycling commute. The L.R.R. has seen many races, and crashes, and adventures. This is part of why it has been retired. Also, I had a friend build me a new custom frame (I’m small, its hard to find frames that fit well), and the new frame is so beautiful, I’m unwilling to put junk parts on it. As a result, it’s still an incomplete bike, and not ready for the road. So, the L.R.R. returns, for a few more hurrah’s. I’ll admit, it felt strange to have the ability to coast, it has been so long. It felt nice to be clipped into my pedals, and I still really only have 3 gears on this bike, as my groupset is old, tired, and not willing to come completely out of retirement. .
True Trail Runners Wedding Reception
I have expressed it here in nearly every blog post in some way or another, I will say it again; I am so glad to know Dallas and Renee. These are two incredible individuals, and ‘meant for each other’ doesn’t quite begin to describe them. I was so happy to be in town for their wedding reception. Its always amusing when you get people out of the environment you’re used to seeing them in. There were many comments about people recognizing one another while not wearing running clothes. At least we know that TTR’s can clean up and look respectable when necessary. I really enjoyed the chance to chat with folks from the group out of our usual element. It was especially nice to have a chance to talk with Ross Z, who along with Gene J, are getting ready to pass the torch of leading the TTR’s to Dallas and Renee. Ross and Gene are both extremely accomplished runners, and caring, personable individuals. I won’t go on too long about the reception, other than to say once more what a spectacular group TTR is, and how lucky I am to be a part of this group of folks. For Renee’s account of her wedding and more, go here. Renee and Dallas, I wish you many breathtaking moments in your new lives together, both on and off the trail.
National Trails Day and the Mexican Spotted Owl
In conjunction with REI, SCC agreed to lead a trail work project in the Catalinas for National Trails Day. In preparation for the event, I ended up meeting with the Coronado Forest folks and discussing, largely, our inability to work on much of the trails in the area. This was not due to any lack of ambition, or need of attention to trails in the area. No, this was due to the mating habitat of the Mexican Spotted Owl, which apparently covers the vast majority of the Catalinas. Oh, and their mating season is 8 months long. Yeah. Crazy. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m stoked for those owls to be there, and I’m all for preserving biological diversity, particularly in sensitive areas, but it would be a bold face lie for me to say I wasn’t disappointed in the small area in which we’d be able to work. Part of our initial proposed work was on the Incinerator Ridge trail, which all my TTR pals know is very overgrown. Enter public service announcement here: When you’re out on your favorite local National Forest trail, and you feel its neglected or poorly managed, and you start to wonder, ‘what do these agencies actually do with all of their time and resources, why aren’t they maintaining my playground?’ Chances are, there’s something holding them up from doing the work. Whether it’s a biologically sensitive area, fire danger, etc… there are many factors that can hold up eager trail crews from doing the work we all hope for. Also, just for kicks, here’s my 5 seconds of fame on the local news spread they did about National Trails day and our work in the Coronado, the link is here. Anyways, everyone who showed up did a great job, really a fantastic bunch of volunteers. Props to my fellow TTR’r Mike Duer for showing up and doing his part. We both had plans for a 5K that evening, so it was a nice little warm-up to get moving on the trail before hitting the pavement for an urban race.
Gabe Zimmerman Triple Crown On January 8th, Tucson made national headlines, and stayed there for more than a week. Unfortunately, the headlines were tragic, and connected to the completely senseless act of one disturbed individual. Lives were forever altered by the acts of one gunman, and some were ended. In an attempt to honor Gabe Zimmerman, one of the victims of the January 8th shootings, Southern Arizona Roadrunners created the Gabe Zimmerman Triple Crown. As mentioned above, and in previous posts, Ross, Gabe’s father, is an avid runner. Gabe was a runner as well, that’s actually how I first met him, was at a SAR race. So, Randy Acetta pulled people together, proposed the series, and made it happen. The Old Pueblo showed up en masse for the first race of the series. Nearly 2,000 people registered, and 1,723 actually showed up to race. Many of us TTR folk abandoned the trails to hit the road for this series. If for nothing else, to honor Gabe’s memory, and continue to contribute to the community that he worked so hard to keep safe. There are still 2 more races in the triple crown series, if you live in the area and are interested, I strongly encourage you to sign up and participate. Randy and SAR put on great races, and its for a worthy cause. Check out SAR’s site here. For me, it has been a long time since I’ve officially run a 5K, and even longer since I’ve run a race on pavement. The radiant heat factor was impressive. My foot behaved itself in its debut from as much rest as I was able to give it, and that was good enough for me. I ran at a pretty leisurely pace, not wanting to reinjure what I had just managed to fix, and came in around 27 minutes. The folks collecting the bib tabs, to calculate race times, were in the midst of a changing of the guard as I was coming through, so my ‘finish line’ of folks got a bit jumbled, and I think my official time ended up being somewhere around 28 minutes. No worries. For me, these races are all about honoring Gabe. After the race I met up with Dawn to watch a free screening of Run Fatboy Run at the Fox theater, and that was entertaining. I’ve seen that movie a couple times, and still find myself laughing aloud at parts of it. Particularly, the blister scene, its just too good. All in all, it was a good, albeit long, day.
Barefoot Running in the Desert in the Afternoon in the Summer is not a Great Idea
So, finding myself super excited that my foot didn’t freak out at the 5K, and hoping I’m done being injured, I made the mistake of jumping back into old habits a bit too quickly. Specifically, I’ve been in the habit of running/walking the last 1/3 mile of my run (the distance of my driveway) barefoot. It feels really good after the run home to let my feet stretch out and get some direct contact with the ground. My driveway is all desert rock and dirt, so its not super rough, I mostly just have to keep an eye out for stray bits of fallen cholla. There I am, Sunday afternoon, having ridden my bike home and reached my driveway. I dismounted and started the walk along the driveway, and thought how nice it would be to do this barefoot. I knew it had been a hot day, and still was fairly warm. I took off one cleat and sock and did a test, setting my foot down on the dirt. It didn’t feel too hot, certainly bearable, so I took off the other cleat and sock and proceeded down the drive. When I was nearly to my door, my foot felt as though there might be cholla in it. I slowed down, lifted my foot, and looked at the bottom for the cholla, and saw nothing. As I did this, I had the same sensation in my other foot. What? Cholla in both feet? No way. I stepped gingerly to my front steps. Nearly there, I realized what the ghost cholla sensation was: I had burnt the bottom of my feet! The ground was hot enough to burn them over the course of 1/3 of a mile. Oh Arizona, how I love thee.
Fortunately, I have a pool, which I immediately stuck my feet in. Walking was once again no fun, and the burns turned into blisters in less than 12 hours. Awesome. I stayed off them as best as I could, which is pretty much impossible, but I am happy to say, one week later as I type this, the last of the blisters are finally healed, and I really hope I don’t find anything too stupid to do that will damage my feet in the next 48 hours or so.
So much more to say!!!!
But I seriously have no time, I'm scrambling just to copy and paste this post I cleverly pre-typed in my few spare moments this weekend...and now I need to get crews out the door and head out to the Land of Enchantment for a field visit.
More about that when I return.
I leave you with this song. It's been stuck in my head for some days.
Thursday night, fully aware of what I was doing, I got on a train in Tucson and headed out to California to run my first 100K. The woman assigning the seats on the platform was pretty surly, assured me they planned to have a full train, and that there would be trouble for me if I tried to sit in a different empty seat. Unfazed, I boarded the train, dropped off my pack in the lower luggage area and headed upstairs. Surely enough, there was a woman in the seat next to mine, comfortably spread out, with she and her things occupying both seats. I started to put my ticket up above the seat and she looked at me uneasily. 'There are plenty of empty seats you know. I'm coming from Chicago, I'm very tired. There are plenty of empty seats.' I tried to explain the demands of the woman on the platform...
'She is a terrible woman. She is just a mean and nasty human being' said the woman in the seat. A few others chimed in.
'Yeah, she's got a real attitude.'
'She's rude.'
'I don't know what her problem is.' etc.
Then I tried to explain my plan to the woman in the seat next to mine.
'I'm sorry she's been rude to you, I've just learned over time to pick my battles. I have no intention of occupying this seat, but if I put my ticket here, she's likely to leave us both alone.'
'Well, there are plenty of empty seats. She is just a nasty woman.'
'I get that, and I'm sorry. Don't worry about me, I'm headed to the observation car, I have no intention of sitting here.'
With that, I made my way to the observation car, leaving behind me a continued discussion by multiple passengers about the 'nasty, horrible lady.' Fortunately, as I reached the observation car, I found it mostly empty (as is generally the case around 11pm). I set my stuff down in a double seat and watched Tucson roll past the windows as we headed towards L.A. I started to read my book until my eyes were too tired to continue tracking words on a page, then laid down on the floor, covered myself with my blanket, and fell asleep.
I woke up around 4:30am, somewhere not far from Palm Springs. I transferred myself from the floor to the chair, poured some coffee from my thermos and read some more of my book. I snapped a couple pics of the wind turbines with my phone, and was surprised to hear that we were running ahead of schedule. I started to think about the days ahead.
Fast Forward: Santa Barbara, Familiar Strangers and Ranches
Made it into Santa Barbara around lunchtime, dropped some of my things off in a locker at the hostel, and wandered about. Dipped my feet in the ocean, ate lunch at a cafe, sat at a coffee shop and awaited the arrival of Tiffany and her friend Christi, who were kind enough to give me a ride. Tiffany sent me regular text messages updating their arrival status. When I settled at the coffee shop she said they'd meet me there. Having had multiple e-mail exchanges we both felt some familiarity with each other. Having read each others blogs, we more or less knew what the other looked like. Still, I couldn't help but laugh at myself when I sent a text describing what I was wearing and where I'd be sitting, and she sent a reply describing herself...it felt like a sitcom blind date scenario, or some Scorsese inspired clandestine meeting of criminals. I chuckled, it was amusing.
We found each other, and the three of us headed up to Los Olivos to the ranch where the race would be held. We only missed one turn, which we figured out on our own- no thanks to the invisible GPS woman hiding somewhere in Christi's dashboard. The two waivers I had packed (two, in case I misplaced one) were nowhere to be found. Luis had warned us: no waiver, no ranch, no race. Fortunately, Tiffany had brought one for each of us- just in case- so I was saved.
The drive out to the ranch, and the ranch itself, was incredible. It is so beautiful out there! We rolled in, set up our camp and checked in with registration. While setting up my tent I realized my stake bag was missing (what the heck! I swear the Borrower's took it a long with my waiver) and again, I was saved by Christi and Tiffany who were able to spare me three stakes, which was plenty. Soon after we were set up, it was time for an informal talk about barefoot running, hosted by Barefoot Ken Bob. It was fun, Ken Bob was entertaining, and Ted (known as Barefoot Ted in McDougall's book Born to Run) and Micah True (aka Caballo Blanco) also gave their two cents worth.
Then, Luis broke down the race details. Basically, if you're on the pink loop, follow the pink flags, which will be on your left, most of the time, except for when they aren't. If you're on the yellow loop, same deal. If you see yellow and pink flags together, don't freak out. Blue flags, don't go there. Three chalk lines across a road, don't go there. Trash, don't leave any, if you see some, pick it up. Don't poop on the trail or the road. Most importantly, respect the ranch, respect each other, and have a great time.
The evening was filled with music and campfires and socializing. Luis called quiet and lights out around 10 and warned us all that we better be at the start line by 5:45am, and not to worry, he would wake us all up.
A Chicken, A Cow and a Shotgun
With a hoot, a howl and some very loud Merle Haggard, around 4:45am, Luis woke everybody up. After a couple of Merle songs I found myself shaking off the morning chill, getting dressed in my tent and singing along with Alabama. Things were already off to a great start. When I made my way over to the start/finish staging area I was delighted to see that Luis had transformed himself overnight into a chicken. Now the mysteries of the universe were made clear: truly, the Chicken came Before the Egg.
The morning was chilly, but not unbearable. There was a campfire, hot water and coffee. Chris Scott- RD for the Coyote 2 Moon races- was dressed as a cow, and everyone was in good spirits. As the start time drew nearer, Luis gathered us all together, gave us one more run down of the basics, and then he turned the microphone over to Caballo Blanco. We then repeated a pledge similar to the pledge Luis had taken on his first adventure in Copper Canyons...the experience that planted the seed for this race in the first place. More or less, the pledge stated that we should respect where we were, have a good time, and when things go wrong, it was our own f'n fault. We were then introduced to Mr. Chamberlin, who had graciously allowed us to hold this crazy event on land his family has cared for since the early 1900's. Then, before I knew it, we were lined up at the start, and with a shotgun blast we all set off on our own adventures.
Round One
There were four different races going on simultaneously: a 10 miler, a 50K, a 100K, and a 100 miler. The course consisted of two ~10 mile loops, one pink, one yellow. According to Luis, the aid stations to be found on each loop were 'about a water bottle apart.' The precision of this race was fantastic. Seriously, it was so laid back, but simultaneously every necessary detail was taken care of. It really made it easy to have a great time. As it often occurs at ultras, you start your day surrounded by many people, and eventually you find yourself alone. I appreciate all of the chances to meet other runners, and equally value the time alone. Even if its just a 'hey, how's it going,' 'good morning,' or 'looking good,' it's nice to have that sense of community.
My first ten miles went really well. It was wonderfully overcast, cool but not cold, and the scenery was great. I ran a bit with Barefoot Ken Bob until he picked up a little more speed to get the propeller on his hat to get moving. He was running the ten miler. Not long before the finish of the pink loop I was passed by Caballo Blanco, which I thought was pretty cool, I couldn't really tell you why, it just was. At the completion of each loop, Luis was there to put a mark on your bib, to keep track of which loop you were on. I happily received my sharpie stripe, grabbed some food and got ready to go.
I set out on my first yellow loop and was feeling good. This loop was also gorgeous, and included what became one of my favorite sections along some ridges where you ran through a sweet section of single track surrounded by sage, sweetgrass and such, and it smelled incredible. As I rounded a corner towards the end of the yellow loop, I recognized the old rusted out equipment that signaled I was very close to the start/finish line. This would become one of my favorite sites on both Pink and Yellow loops.
Round Two
Twenty miles under my belt at just under four hours, I was feeling great and ready to roll. I headed out on my second loop, looking forward to seeing what looked familiar and what I had completely failed to notice the first go-round.
Sure enough, while coming up a hill I noticed some rows of grapes being grown. I was pretty certain I remembered those, but I had no recollection of the houses that were there. And then there was the road. Had we really run by a road? There was a pink flag. Okay, guess we did. How could I have not noticed some very large houses and a road? Oh well, keep moving.
I finished my second pink loop right around two hours, putting me at six hours total. I was keeping a consistent pace and feeling strong. In my mind, I had remembered the first yellow loop as being tougher than the pink. I got my stripe from Luis, and set out on my second yellow just slightly apprehensive, but looking forward to the challenge.
Well, just as I hadn't remembered the houses and the road, my legs had tricked me on that first yellow loop. Now, its not to say that it was easier, if anything it was a bit burlier than the pink loop, but the rhythm of it just felt right, so I was able to really nail it. My second yellow flew by, and before I knew it, I was at the old rusted equipment again, and ready to head out for my last set of loops.
Round Three
I grabbed what I needed, got another mark on my race bib, and hit the trail. I was excited at the thought of what I was about to accomplish. I knew that, upon completing this final pink loop and setting out on my final yellow, that I would have officially run the furthest I ever had in my life. My feet were certainly starting to feel fatigue from the forty miles I had already run, but they were staying strong, as were my legs. Throughout my run I had practiced focused breathing meditations. It helped me maintain a consistent pace, and kept my asthma at bay. It also helped me focus on gathering my strength- call it Chi, Energy, whatever you like, but its out there, and for me at least, in those moments where you have to 'dig deep,' focusing, and gathering Chi, that energy, helps me keep moving. It was somewhere around what I would guess was about three miles into my last pink loop, seemingly out of nowhere, my lungs rebelled. My chest got tight, my breath was short, I was wheezing and had to slow down to a very sluggish walk. I tried my best to not get frustrated, to focus on my breath, and to ride it out. I had already come so far, there was no way I was going to throw in the towel this far into the game.
Breathe in, Breathe out, Repeat.
Focusing more on my breath than anything else, my progress slowed, but didn't stall. After about five minutes of slow going and labored breathing, I managed to get things under control. My body felt stiff, and any attempts to speed up my sluggish pace proved fairly fruitless. So, I let it go. I just kept moving, I tried to stay as positive as possible, and shuffled along as quickly as my lungs and my legs would allow me. Slowly but surely I moved along, and eventually I found myself at the rusted equipment. I was officially nearing the home stretch.
The Royal Treatment
I made my way to the start/finish staging area and was met by Luis with a damp towel. 'You want to cool down with this towel? It'll feel real good, get all that salt off of you?' I think I mumbled 'sure' and before I knew it I was getting a cool down from the RD. Now, if that's not royal treatment, I don't know what is. I felt like a prize fighter getting a pep talk and a shoulder rub before being sent back into the ring to deliver the final knockout. Luis asked how things were going, I told him about the weird asthma fluke, the stiffness I was feeling, and how I had slowed down quite a bit. 'You going back out there?' he asked.
'Oh yeah, I didn't get this far to give up now.'
I asked how far out he thought Tiffany and Christi were. He said they were out there, and moving well. I explained that I was afraid my next lap might be as slow as the the last one I had just completed, and felt bad knowing that they (my ride) could potentially have to wait around for me for hours. Could he please tell them that, if they needed to take off before I finished, I was sure I could find another ride into Santa Barbara. He said sure, and he was certain he could find me a ride if I needed it. He told me I was awesome, to keep it up, and to keep moving. I ate the last of my dehydrated bananas that I had in my drop bag. My hope was that the potassium would help the stiffness subside, and make it easier to move along on my final yellow loop. It was around 5:20, I had been on the course for ~11 hours, 20 minutes.
Each Step, A Milestone
Within the first mile the bananas did their job. The stiffness brought on by my mini asthma episode started to move out of my body and forward progress became less of a challenge. The rhythm I had consistently found on the yellow loop found my legs again. My breath was focused, my mind was focused, and there was a smile plastered on my face. Each footfall took me closer to my goal, and each footfall took me into a new realm of distance running. Dusk was approaching, and I made it my goal to finish before having to turn on my headlamp. I picked up the pace, as much as I could, and kept moving along.
I reached the ridges and smelled the sage and sweetgrass one last time. Now, you can think it overly sentimental, or hokey, or strange, but throughout the day I gave thanks to that race course and for the opportunity to be out there for this experience. As I moved closer and closer to my goal, my thanks increased. There was no doubt in my mind that I would succeed.
The Rusted Equipment Around the Corner
There it was, the rusted equipment. I picked up the pace. I knew I had just two miles left, in the form of an out-and-back mile that began at the start/finish line. As I came closer to the staging area, Tiffany was there, she recognized me, gave me a hoot and a holler, snapped some pictures, and cheered me on. I smiled, kept going, and made my way out to the turn around. As seems to be habit in these races, the grin on my face grew exponentially as each step passed. I made it up the final hill to the turn around, did not sit in the tiny red 'runners only' chair, and headed back to the finish line.
The sun was starting to set, I was losing the last bits of daylight, but I was not going to turn on my headlamp. I dug a bit deeper, and made for my last push. I planned to run across that finish line. And while it may have been a slow run, it was a run nonetheless. Tiffany cheered me on (She's AWESOME!), she snapped some photos, a smile on my face, and all of a sudden, it was over. At fourteen hours on the dot, I had completed my first 100K.
Luis was there, he gave me a high five and a hug, and I gave him a smile and many thanks. All of the volunteers were incredible, all of the runners I met throughout the day were great. The families hanging out all day supporting their runners who smiled and clapped and rang cowbells and told me 'good job' and 'you look great' were fantastic and something to look forward to on each loop.
And so, though I can justify the length of this race report relative to the length of the race, I'll leave this story here. I spent the day after the race wandering the beach and streets of Santa Barbara, my feet a bit tender, my legs a bit sore, but no more than could be expected. I spent much of today walking around L.A. and composing this lengthy report.
Thanks again to everyone who made this experience possible. And thanks to all of y'all who survived my verbosity and made it to the end of my report. Watch out for when I run my first 100miler, that's promising to be a novel the way these reports are going.
