Almost Wasn't

This morning I woke thinking I would cash in my chips, cancel my run for the day and just ... watch television.  Of course I had to go get my hair cut, deliver some furniture and go to the dump first.  But otherwise, maybe I'd have a lazy day.

In the past fifteen days I've done at least some form exercise each day, and each day either a run or a ride.  I could use a day off.  I have a duathalon coming up in a week from today, and while I've not rested, my running has been very low-key (nursing a hamstring).

I thought:

...a day off is okay, you'll ride harder tomorrow because of it.

Run today...the race is coming up and there's no time to exercise this coming Wednesday or Thursday anyway.

Rest today because your legs are shot from yesterday's tempo ride.

Run today...it's the virtual run for Sherry Arnold. 

I ended up hitting the trail and had a great 8 mile run, my longest since the hamstring problem.  The day was beautiful, the trail, one of my favorites.  It has soft ground (some places thick sand), is neither flat nor hilly, neither windy or straight, tree-lined and very interesting.  There are old adobe homes from the 1800's as well as three plank bridges to cross.  It's a super interesting run, while being safe enough to get distracted from the trail temporarily now and again.

I ran a short leg of this trail about a month ago and loved it.  But I hadn't really been out there since last July.  I was happy to see the the bridges repaired and upgraded, shown below.  There's a group that helps maintain a few stretches of the trail, and I personally thank them.  It's an awesome thing.  Check out their site and see the amount of trash they fish out of the river during the monsoon season!

Above is one of the plank bridges.

Since I've been nursing the hamstring hoping to get it healed for next week's big race (for me it's big anyway), I've not pushed it at all.  In fact, on most of my runs I've not broken a sweat, and a few times I was freezing the whole way.  Also, since I'm training for a bike race and can't ride in the early mornings, I've not been able to run in the afternoons.  This afternoon, depending on how I felt, I'd see if I could push a bit on the 8th mile.

The first thing I noticed was that my pace was faster than it's been.  I was going completely by feel, but the first mile was 9:26.  I never felt the hamstring, and was just jogging along to warm up.  While still two minutes slower than I would hope to be healthy, it was encouraging to see some improvements.  I plodded along in the low-mid 9 minute range, save the 5th mile (nature called).  I struggled through a bit with some upset stomach problems, I'm not sure how to eat during the day if I run in the afternoon anymore!  But, when I started the 8th mile, I felt like I'd just run 7 miles, but otherwise fit as a fiddle.  I decided to see how my leg really was.

I steadily sped up, hoping that running down and up the dips wouldn't cause problems.  None did.  I finished the last mile in 7:39.  Stretching afterwards felt fine and now I'm sitting on ice hoping all is well tomorrow, too.

With that said, I've not done much trail running in the past few months.  I forgot how dirty my feet get.  When I stopped this is what I had:

Off and on I thought of Sherry Arnold, but more of her family and how she was taken from them.  I thought of how we often suffer during exercise, how she isn't suffering anymore, but her family surely is.  It reminded me of one reason I run.

I run because I can.  It's a gift, at a price.  It hurts, but that's kind of what makes it good.  It's unfair, and saddens and angers me, that Sherry had to pay her life for that day's run.  That was never the bargain.  And after thinking it over I compromised with myself.  What can I do?  Sadly, very little.

I think over some things like teaching my children awareness of their safety, talking to students about it.  But really, that's not it.  That's not what I can do to address what happened.  That's a different purpose, one of prevention.  That's preventing something similar from happening to my loved ones.

But what drove my thinking was compassion for her family more than for Sherry herself.  I finally accept the fact that there's a lot of hurt in the world and not a lot of healing.  There's no undoing a tragedy.  And suffering is something we will all face.  We all suffer and are burdened, and many of us in extraordinary ways.   

What can I do in response to Sherry Arnold's death? I can show compassion to others, even when they don't appear to deserve it.

What a great run I had.

Learn a lot again ... glad I brought my phone!

Blisters, cut on my arch, heat and wind ... what a combination!  I decided to move my long run from Friday morning to Thursday afternoon.  Then, on Friday I'd do a bike workout instead of a run.  So, Thursday afternoon I was to run 9 miles.

My new toe shoes have about 20 miles on them or so, including an 8 mile run and some mile repeats.  But, on Wednesday's two mile easy run, I developed a small cut on the side of my left foot, at the fore part of the arch.  I didn't want to use my old shoes on Thursday's run as they're cheapies and not as nice.  So, I threw a band aid on it, forgot to bring an extra, and headed off on my run.  It was windy and 88 degrees.  Since the route was new, I brought my phone and would use that to track my pace and distance.

Right off the bat my legs were DEAD.  But, I remembered reading not to judge a run until the second mile is done.  Mile 1 was on pace, around 9:30, mile two was around 10.  Ugh.  The rest of the miles through were right on track, around 9:30, even the 5th which was uphill and directly into the wind!  Still, at the time, I had just finished a hard day and was battling my own attitude.  I kept thinking, How am I going to run 13 miles faster than this in about six weeks?  Then, as my phone sounded off for the 7th time, quoting my pace and distance, the cut on my left foot screamed.

I stopped, pulled off the shoe and couldn't find the band aid!  What gives?  I felt all around, no luck.  I threw the shoe back on and tried again.  NOT HAPPENING.  Upon a second search I found the pad of the band aid, but the adhesive portions were long gone!  Where?  Maybe with my missing socks at home?

I tried running barefoot and made it a block.  But that created hot spots pretty quickly on my feet and toes (they later turned to blisters).  I called home and had my wife come get me.  I was two miles from my truck and 15 from home.  By the time she showed up I had walked, barefoot, a complete mile.

Guess I should've known better and should've worn my old shoes.  From now on, I'm bringing my phone.  I never bring it on runs.  So glad I brought it Thursday.

In related news, last week I ate four complete loaves of banana bread and two small loaves of apple bread.  I ate a full pot of soup and drank beer.  I ate and ate some more.  For the week I lost 4 pounds anyway!  Right now I'm really not trying to lose weight.

Tuesday I had a crazy bike workout.  I did half mile intervals, knocking them out in 1:20 or less, followed by two minutes of easier pedaling.  I also did a pair of five mile sprints, the first in just under 14 minutes and the second, into the wind, just under 16 minutes.  All told it was a 36 mile ride!  That's why I had dead legs Thursday.

Today my legs were a bit shot too, and I had a busy schedule.  But, I snuck in a tempo ride of about 24 miles of rolling hills in 1:18.  I can really tell that I have much improved power on the bike, even in a fatigued state.

Tomorrow is my first day off in two weeks.  Having three remaining weeks of training certainly provided me a spark today when I otherwise would've dogged the ride.  On 11/19 I'll be participating in El Tour de Tucson, and will be happy to finish under 6 hours.

Sunday will be my first century ride, and it contains about 2000 feet of elevation gain.  I've ridden 90 miles in a day, and it's really not the distance that worries me.  It's the distance AND the climbing.  I'm getting psyched up about the challenge already!

Took my mountain bike for a nice walk

It's not an adventure until something goes wrong.

Today I planned on taking my old mountain bike out for a ride. It's been 6 months since I last rode a mountain bike and longer since I've ridden mine. It's old, the geometry is such that it plows, which means the front tire digs into the ground instead of rolling when turning causing loss of stability. I was certain to become reacquainted with emergency dismounting procedures.

But, I'm learning to run when planned...I wanted to run today, but I'll "stay the course." Yesterday's run hammered my knees "real good." They felt pretty good this morning, if not a touch tender. After riding for a half hour, all of the junk was flushed out they felt fine.

My route today was largely exploratory. I knew the first three miles of the route and the end of the route, but the middle 6 or 7 miles was unknown! I knew a trail existed, but the park service website says it's sparsely marked. In addition, it's a single track trail that is heavily trafficked by livestock. Their trails often look identical to the real trail. You only discover the difference after a quarter mile when the cow trail abruptly stops.

I passed through the first gate, climbed on the bike and clipped in. I had a hard time clipping in! I hoped I wouldn't have a tough time unclipping later! One way to find out I guess. Onward we go. I reached the next gate which is a truck gate for a field that is bounded by the trail and it's shut! This gate has never been shut. What gives? I dismounted and then noticed a beautiful scene, save the 5 dead cows lined up in a row!

I slipped through the gate and hoped this wasn't an omen!

The trail and day were beautiful, though it would get warm. Yesterday was 108 and today was supposed to be hotter. I brought a 3 liter camelbak and a large gatorade, plus snacks. I knew that in addition to the heat and unknown route, there would be two problems: deep, soft sand, and mesquite trees reclaiming the trails in places.

The sand caused me to dismount much more than I had hoped. But not before discovering a new equation. Here it is. Me + Mountain Bike + Sand + 1 rock + Shrub = crash. I was cruising along in the sand and decided I wanted to change my route. I was headed to the right of a shrub and wanted to be on the left. There was one rounded stone, not much bigger than a softball between me and my chosen direction. I turned around it and the front plowed at the same time the rear tire hit the rock. I went over. I landed on my palms and slammed my thigh into the handle bar. DOH! Less than graceful. Luckily, that was the only accident.

Riding along I sliced through mesquite branches and ducked under elms and cottonwoods. I enjoyed twisting and turning along the leaf littered trail. Then I saw something amazing. A literal thorn grenade. I'm not sure what this plant is, but would be instant death to my tire had I hit it!

I saw a group of these about 4 miles down the trail. About this point there are huge old black walnut trees. They're actually indigenous to the area and the nuts are delicious. Last time, when running, I ate one. Not today though.

Soon, after 5 miles the trail became impassible by bike. But, the trail was easy to follow and walk. The trail climbed up a short 25 foot cliff and paralleled the train tracks. From up there I could really see how past floods washed debris, garbage and logs into large piles. Little did I know, I'd end up climbing over some later that day!

The floods here are intense. Supposedly, this region is the only part of the United States that has a true monsoon season. Some may argue, definitions change, but whatever. We get intense rain for about 2 months of the year and very little the other 10. The floods do crazy things...like put underwear on logs.

The trail was still easy to follow and markers were visible. Once I took the wrong route, just as I had running my last time out, but caught my mistake soon enough and backtracked to find the trail.

I stopped to eat some breakfast and drink some gatorade. I popped some sunflower seeds in my mouth and hit the trail again. I passed through a gate and into an irrigated field. The mud stunk and stuck to everything. There were deep ruts everywhere, dug by stuck truck tires. I avoided them as best I could while maintaining appropriate speed. The whole time I thought of Mike Rowe. He once discussed how there are times when keeping your mouth shut is the best policy, and not to prevent misspeaking. This was one of those times.

The water used to irrigate comes from the Santa Cruz River. This time of year the river only flows because of a water treatment facility 6 miles upstream. Gross! If that wasn't enough, the dozens of cows were amply fertilizing the field.

I made it through without incident. Then, I saw this:

After this I had to cross a road and luckily, right across the road and through another gate was a marker! Yes! This was the area I was most concerned about. I was worried the trail disappeared for all practical purposes and I wanted to make it a running route!

This is good, I thought. I had to walk a lot, but the trail was beautiful. I had to do some trail side maintenance and repair on my old bike, but all things being equal, it was a great day. I began to day dream and sure enough, I lost the trail. I knew I wasn't lost, on my left was the river, beyond that the freeway. On my right were the train tracks and then some ranches. I knew where I was, but I lost the trail. Ugh. STUPID!

I had no idea how long it had been since I lost the route. There are huge stretches where no signs exist and you just chose the path that looks most humanized. I got lost in a large open field lined on each side by cottonwoods. There was a beautiful hawk I disturbed that flew to a close by tree, then before I could get a picture, it flew out of sight and screamed off and on for quite a while.

This picture is NOT the trail, even though it is well worn. Can you spot the deer in the picture? There are two.

It quickly became apparent that I was on the NOT trail. The shrubs became very thick and I had to walk, dragging my bike beside me. I crossed a wash, I knew it was Josephine Wash, so I knew exactly where I was. In the wash, I saw a hay-feeder that had been washed away in a flood. I can only imagine that some teenaged kid got in trouble by his father for misplacing it.

For the next hour I climbed over piles of logs and debris hoping not to crash through and hurt myself. I knew I had to head to the river to rediscover the trail. I also knew that I needed to find it soon as the trail crossed it. I hoped there was a bridge. I still hope there is, for the next time I try this route. Today, I did not find it.

Making my way to the water was difficult. It would've been trying without dragging an old heavy bike behind me. But I did see a very curious thing. A deer's skull, antlers in tact, sitting under a large cow pie! I though about removing the antlers, but decided not to. I did my best, with my foot, to clean it off for a picture.

When I got the water I found a very narrow spot where the stream split. I lay a log across and walk to the island, then lay the log across to the opposite shore. If the ground wasn't so soft and sticky and I didn't have a bike I could've easily jumped across. But as it stood, I needed to grab a log and build a bridge. I didn't want to get in this water!

As I picked up a log I noticed I had a supervisor. A beautiful black calf stood watching me the whole time. He was on the east side, the river to the west. On the opposite side of the river was his mother who was scolding him for getting into such a predicament, I think. I don't speak cow, so I'm anthropomorphizing here.

The "bridge" worked well, until I got right over the deepest spot. The log rolled and in went my right foot. GREAT! Not really a great deterioration of my condition. The swampy mud stunk and clung to everything. I already had it everywhere.

After crossing the river I had another 20 minutes or so of climbing over debris before finally relocating the trail. Apparently the crossing was farther upstream, as I'd feared. Oh well.

The trail spit out onto a dirt road with this cool sign. When I saw the sign, I called my wife. It had been 3 hours and I had only gone 10 miles. A mile further down the trail I'd be at my desired destination. I had plans for the rest of the day and my appetite for exploration was satisfied.

And when I mentioned an old heavy bike, I meant it. My mountain bike is a 2002 Specialized Hard Rock Uno. I've upgraded it as much as possible, adding disc brakes, changing the wheels and components, and also swapping out the front fork. But, it's a tank.

I felt great, I wasn't tired, had food and water left. I just didn't want to spend another 2 hours, if I hurried and nothing went wrong, to get back. Plus, it was already 102 degrees outside.

When I got in the car my wife says, "Whoa, I can smell you and it's NOT sweat." That mud was stinky, trust me!

All in all, a great ride with a little adventure. I am looking forward to running the route next time. And I am very happy to be in shape enough to have an adventure like that without being exhausted.