Snapshots from the Week

(Click-click) Bolstered by a good performance in my trail race last weekend, especially when not expecting to do well post-rigorous vacation that included 10 days of no running, I’ve registered for the even more challenging trail 10K at Lapham Peak – Colorama on October 1st. Joe wasn’t feeling the love for Colorama this time ( we last did it in 2008), so I’ll be flying solo, hoping to connect with some friends who intend to do the 5k. Anyone wanna join in?

(Click-click) The vacation photo album is done and it is glorious. Stats: The album holds 300 pictures, took about 8 hours to create, about $200 in materials and weighs 7 pounds. Others have reacted with awe – even to pictures/sights I consider to be “eh”. This tells me how spoiled and skewed my expectations for utterly amazing scenery has become. Some folks said they felt a twinge of vertigo with our summit photos, and all expressed astonishment over what hidden beauty this country has. Give me a holler if you wanna arrange a time to peruse this album!

(Click-click) The big beautiful Basswood on our front lawn is rotten and will need to come down. Last weekend we noticed a drooping limb (partially resting on our neighbors pine tree) that was beginning to pull away from the trunk. Joe wasn’t able to cut through this limb entirely, so he called our previous tree service (remember that sad day a couple years ago when we had to take a Maple limb down to appease our other neighbors?) to come estimate what it would cost to take it off. The arborist called to report the tree is internally decayed, as evidenced by the shelf fungus on the trunk. Joe further researched this, and it is glaringly true. By the time the fungus shows up, the tree is already a goner. The tree could topple in a storm or on its own, and become a home to animals and insects that can easily burrow into the soft rotten wood. It’s gonna have to come down. It will leave a huge void on our front lawn, we’ll lose shade and beauty. The thought of it breaks my heart. I love our trees almost as much as I love The Boys.

(Click-click) Six months have passed since Joe’s last bone density test. Today he is being retested, and we’re hoping for good news – all his running, weight lifting and the recent backpacking trip should be knitting some strong-as bones!

(Click-click) Today is my 9 year anniversary working for Waukesha County. My angst and feelings of flux from several months ago has simmered down. I have less urgency about finding a new career, but note I’ve been in a pattern for a few years now of approaching new ideas, and then backing away, feeling content, so I expect this push-pull phenomenon will continue. The main two considerations I still hold are becoming an RN or a Physician’s Assistant. But in the moment, I’m happy and content.

No Expectations = Great Outcomes

(Before The Race: Rosanna, Joy - eyes shut in meditation?, Joe)

Race day dawned 60° with clouds and a light breeze. The typical weather for The North Face Trail 10k. We've never had sun or warmth for this race, and that suits us just fine. Last year I had pouring rain, mud and a stiff 50° to run in, so today was cushy by comparison. We met Rosanna, and her friend, Laurie, pre-race, but ran our own races once we hit the Scuppernong hills.

I went into this race with no expectations to PR, given that we're still coming off of such a physical vacation and haven't had a lot of run time in. That said, I ended up PR'ing by 30 seconds (not huge, but hey! a PR is a PR). But the real news of the day is that Joe, who also PR'd (by nearly 2 minutes), placed 20th overall out of 239 runners!

Rain began to fall shortly after we entered the post-race food tent, setting up a perfect afternoon to snuggle in at home with PJ's, treats (garlic black bean tortilla chips, anyone?) and the lazy ease of knowing we have tomorrow off too.

After The Race: Happy to be done. Success is ours :)

Assimilation

Jumping back into the grind ... Despite the physical rigors our vacation demanded, I feel more tired 4 days into the usual grind and work week than I ever did on the trail, and I attribute it to mental fatigue. My entry into real life began Monday morning with the 4a.m. voice of the BBC’s Damian Grammaticus calling from the bathroom alarm clock. Though we never slept late (always up by 6a.m.) in the Sierra’s, we could awaken on our own time, generally after having 10 hours of rest/sleep. There I was Monday morning, rudely summoned by a somber Brit, with 6 hours of sleep, and a long day ahead of me. Back to the gym for a run and weight training. Back to work and the true start of the brain drain.

With so many voice mails, emails and cooling crises to clean-up, I felt overwhelmed, pulled in too many directions, unsure of where to start. And then live phone calls started rolling in. Everyone wanted a piece of me. I felt like I was treading water all day – never getting anywhere. The rest of the work week has been similar. Add in after work activities (most pleasant, but nevertheless a time leech) and my days were further shortened, causing more of brain pain as I scrambled to get everything done at home as well.

Monday night it was a 90-minute massage with Angie Man Hands. Angie worked out the kinks from backpacking – interestingly, my right hand & wrist were really tight from gripping my trekking pole (apparently I had death hold on it!). Tuesday night it was a return to yoga. Wednesday night it was my chiropractic adjustment and errands. Tonight it’ll be a pedicure (time to slough off the blistered skin and chipped purple polish in favor of royal blue) and grocery shopping. Tomorrow night it will be seeing the always hilarious Paula Poundstone at The Pabst. Saturday is a day of rest. Sunday morning me, Joe & Rosanna have The North Face Endurance Challenge Trail 10k, and Monday? A vacation day from work to just chill. At the end of this stint, I should be fully assimilated into my usual life, and no longer feeling so mentally drained. BUT, next week, Joe and I will begin training for our Haunted Hustle ½ Marathon, so the physical drain will resume!

High Sierra Trail Report

We're home with another item scratched off our bucket list! The Sierra Nevada mountain range is so massive in both size and scenery that capturing it's essence in this blog will not be possible. Our 6-day traverse of these white granite mountains (sculpted by glaciers), from West to East, was epic to say the least. Such diversity in landscape, unfolding mile by mile, makes it difficult to select just one photo to give you a flavor of the place, but we chose one anyway. Pictured is Upper Hamilton Lake, before the Great Western Divide, at approximately 8200 ft. We nabbed this photo on Day 2 - a helacious 13+ mile day that took 9.5 hours to hike. It's the dicey terrain, the altitude (we'd climb to over 10,000ft. that day), the sun exposure (sun screen does little to keep you from sizzling &dehydrating), and the incessant stops for photo ops that create such a physically demanding day.

If you start at the top of the picture, you will see mountains in the background on the right, and the closer mountains near Upper Hamilton Lake on the left. You can discern that a valley was betwixt these mountains before the lake - that is where we came from. We began our hike that morning at 6,800ft., and steeply climbed up to this bright blue lake - a coveted camping destination for HST (High Sierra Trail) hikers who like to fish for their dinner. We hiked through twisting canyon walls, across the tops of random waterfalls, past twisted Bristlecone pines, straight Lodgepole pines, White Firs, Sage brush, Manzanita's, and ferns, routinely clamored over 3 foot stones (not easy when you have my stubby legs), forded creeks and listened to the roar of wind and water (waterfalls were everyhwere) to reach this lake just 4 miles into our long day.

Now look at the picture again. To the right of the lake you will see a green patch and in that green patch you will see the line of trail that we followed. This trail would have us climb to 10,700ft. to reach the Kaweah Gap, at which point we'd begin a long descent to our camping spot for the evening at Big Arroyo. During this ascent highlights included leftover July wildflowers clinging to mountainside streams, expansive debris fields and Precipice Lake. Precipice Lake was made famous by Ansel Adams. It's a small tarn with steep black (manganese) and white (granite) walls surrounding it. This lake often remains frozen through July. When we arrived on 9/2, snow still surrounded the lake and blue icebergs dotted it's surface.

When we eventually arrived at Big Arroyo, we needed to hustle to set up camp, resupply our water for the next day, make dinner,clean up and get to bed. Planning an early September trip meant we exchanged the possible hassles of lingering snow fields, raging rivers and mosquitoes for shorter daylight hours. In the mountains dusk was creeping in by 7p.m. with total darkness by 8p.m. The first dim light of day would come around 6a.m. As it turns out, we couldn't have selected our trip dates any better than we did. The trail obstacles we feared (snow, rivers) had dissipated, and our weather was fantastic. Bright blue skies, 70's during the day, 40's at night (except for one night at 32°). The day we exited the HST, some clouds were rolling in and we learned a storm front would arrive within the next 2 days, delivering snow to the higher elevations.

It was at Big Arroyo that we met a couple around our age from Hawaii - John & Julie, originally from Georgia. They were seasoned backpackers and an equal match for us on the trail. Though we didn't hike together, it turned out we often played leap frog along the trails and ended up at the same backcountry camps throughout the trip. We reached the summit of Mt. Whitney together, and shared greasy french fries together when we finally came off the mountain 5 hours later.

As I mentioned before, the scenery was bigger than life. Never a dull view, never a ho-hum moment. The HST is all we expected it to be. That said, if we had it to do over again, we would add an extra day or two to our itinerary. Our pace was a bit ambitious - averaging 15 miles per day - which left minimal time for leisure and enjoyment. Seeing so much beauty, smelling the sun-heated pine needles, breathing in clean dry air (air that would also cause my nose to become bloody and crusty), and hearing nothing but silence or an occasional bird, was enjoyable on a constant basis, but with our need to push the miles, we often felt time sitting heavy on our backs (remember, shorter daylight hours) and wished for more time at each camp for reading, relaxing and soaking our hot, swollen, blistered feet. And speaking of soaking - we did have a moment to dip our legs and feet into the 90° Kern Hot Springs on Day 3 - awesome natural springs that have been diverted into a man-made concrete tub next to the frigid Kern River.

We were able to keep our blisters manageable - sure, they hurt with each step, but at least we had no injuries on this trip. And remaining healthy would be critical for us to complete the HST, which technically ends at the summit of Mt.Whitney - the 11 miles down from the summit to the trailhead aren't part of the HST. The night before summitting we were camped at Guitar Lake - a beautiful amphitheater devoid of much life - severe jagged boulder fields and craggy peaks surround this instrument shaped lake, and wind blows dervishly into this bowl, chilling you to the bone even in the sun.

That night we slept poorly due to the wind flapping the tent (sometimes the tent wall would press onto my face) and the near full moon shining through our door. That, and knowing that we had the alarm set for a 5a.m. wake-up call, kept us on edge. Up at 5a.m. with the starlight, we broke down camp, and began our climb (from 11,400 ft.) to the top of the highest peak in the lower 48 states (14, 495 ft). The climb was grueling - especially with a 30-pound pack and 5 days of fatigue growing on me. My mind constantly screamed for it to be over. And then it was. We reached the summit and the feeling of accomplishment reminds you of why you put yourself through such physical hardship. That and the view is astounding. We ended up making really good time despite the elevation and our packs, reflecting a weeks worth of acclimatization and accumulated trail fitness.

It was about 40° and windy on the summit. A picture feeding frenzy took place, with all summitters (maybe about 10 at the time we were there) vying (almost in a line) for the primo spots to document success. We all tried to force some food down (no one has an appetite at that altitude) for the long descent, and steadied our minds for the eagle eye focus it would take to safely descend 6000ft. over 5 hours - each foot placement being critical to your safety. Arriving at the Whitney Portal Trailhead was the best feeling ever. To know that we had completed our journey, could get clean, eat real food, and sleep in a bed was utter happiness.

Leaving the Sierra Nevada behind, we traveled 2 hours to Death Valley where we had a cabin booked for the night. When we arrived at 7:30p.m., it was 106° - 10 hours earlier we'd been freezing on the summit of Mt. Whitney. From Death Valley, we traveled to Vegas (where our senses were assaulted on all fronts after being in the wilderness for a week) for a night, and then spent one awful day coming home. Flight delays due to the power outage in San Diego, full flights with annoying people, and then, after landing in Milwaukee, as we're driving to Tandoor from the airport (we've been drooling over Manchurian Gobhi all day), along 894 Wetsbound during rush hour traffic, we hear the loud clunk and scraping of Joe's muffler dragging down the center lane. Are you fucking kidding me? We wanted to cry, but called AAA instead. They came quicker than expected, were able to tie up our muffler, we got to Tandoor over an hour late (oops- we were meeting my mom and Marisa there), but we had our fill of Manchurian Gobhi, and were home to see the boys (how we missed them!) by 8p.m.

THE END.