Linda's Grand Canyon

Winter Storm Goliath put a kink in our plans to travel to Arizona for Across The Years.  We'd been thinking we'd head south to New Mexico and then west along I-40, stopping to find a motel when needed a rest the first night, but this is where the storm was most severe.

We decided instead to go on I-70 and then south through Utah, where the weather was to be clear.  This was the way I had originally wanted to go, and camp overnight in Monument Valley.  My desire to camp, however, became greatly diminished when I realized that it's 20 degrees in Monument Valley at this time of year, and that aside from the frigid campsites, the sparse motels in the region are touristy and very expensive.  Given these options, our new plan became to haul through to Flagstaff in one day (12 hours of driving time, not including stops... and there would be lots of stops).

The big, snowy, ski mountains on I-70 were beautiful.

They gradually gave way to a drier brown landscape, still snow dusted, the farther west we went.

Before I knew it, we were already 5 hours from home, pulling into Fruita to get some good luck wishes from Angela before we continued on our way.

Thank you so much for this.

As we coasted in to Utah, Rob said, "You know, we're going to be driving right past Arches."  In other words, we might as well stop.

Hello, Utah. We meet again.

Arches had been a bit of a sore subject for me ever since Rob got to go last February, when he was in Moab for the Red Hot 55K, and when we returned as a family over Memorial Day, an angry police officer had yelled at us (and everybody else in a long line of cars) for having the sheer audacity to attempt to visit a National Park on a busy holiday weekend.  We were turned away. The park was full.

So we stopped at Arches this time.  No one yelled at us or turned us away.

Rob's photo.

It was beautiful, but still sort of crowded (tourists not pictured above), and maybe not even quite as beautiful as Canyonlands--which had welcomed us with open arms last May when Arches wouldn't let us in.

I don't know.  Utah.  It continues to mystify and amaze me.

We got back on the road just before sunset, still with some 5 and a half hours to drive until we got to Flagstaff.  Motel 6 had promised to keep the light on for us, though.

 

"You know," Rob said, "Flagstaff is only like an hour away from the Grand Canyon."

And I knew that meant we would be going there the next morning.

Rob reminds me a little of my high school honors English teacher when it comes to the Grand Canyon.  He loves the place. He visited it once when he was growing up, and it left quite an impression on him.  He's spoken a few times about taking a family trip there, but we've never been.  I've never seen it.  And because of that, I can't completely understand what it's about or why he loves it so much or why, all those many years ago when my high school English teacher described it to the class, she choked up, had to put a hand to her face, look down and say, "Excuse me."

All through high school, the upperclassmen had tried to scare us about senior year English, and in particular, how difficult it would be if we chose to take honors English.  The subject was World Literature, and the material was abysmal and impossible to understand.  More than that, they assured us that the teacher was mean.  And hard.  There were no survivors in that class.

When I was a sophomore, for about 5 minutes I dated this guy who was a senior, and sometimes I would borrow his honors English textbook and read it.  I got sucked in.  These words of poetry and prose written by long dead people, these were the words I knew in my own heart.  Dido's Epistle to Aeneas, Sappho's fragments (greener than the greenest green grass--I die!) and even the more modern Amy Lowell (Christ! What are patterns for?).  There was no doubt in my mind that I would be taking honors English senior year.

The upperclassmen were right, in a way.  The class was difficult but rewarding, and the teacher was demanding, but you learned a lot.  I don't know when we started doing it, but we called her Linda.  Not to her face of course.  Maybe it was to take the edge off.  Make the whole honors English experience seem less overwhelming if we could pretend that our stern and exacting teacher was a person just like us, a person with whom we were on a first name basis.

By the end of the school year, we were all bonded to each other in that particular way you become bonded with other people when you are pushing yourselves to the extreme.  Boundaries had seemed to relax some.  Linda even seemed less austere.

It was during this time that she shared the story of when she had been a young mother and visited the Grand Canyon with her husband and children.  The rest of her family had been moderately impressed with the view.  They thought it was neat.  They looked around for a few minutes and then felt ready to move on.

But Linda had been overcome with the magnitude of what she was staring down at.  Geologic time over a mile deep, 18 miles wide, 277 miles long.  It was enormous and as beautiful as it was bewildering. She couldn't speak or move. We all thought of her as cool and resolute, but here she was, in front of the classroom, her eyes filling up with tears just at the memory.

It was catharsis, she said.  Or maybe she didn't say that in so many words. Maybe we just knew that was what she had felt when staring down at the canyon.

I've always remembered that.  I've always remembered her and that class (which was the best class I've ever taken, even including college and grad school).  And whenever anything has affected me so deeply, as it did that day for my English teacher, I've thought to myself, Linda's Grand Canyon.

We got to Flagstaff late at night, after having driven through Monument Valley and the Navajo Nation in the dark.  I hadn't seen a thing.  I'd looked longingly out the window at the black shapes of the mesas against the blacker sky and hoped that someday I'd get to see these in the light of day.  It reminded me of the first time Rob had taken me to Appalachia and we'd driven there in the dark, the huge mountains like ghosts all around us.  I'd had no idea what they looked like until the next morning.

Flagstaff surprised me too, once the sun came up.  I'd thought all of Arizona was scrubby and full of cacti.  But here there were beautiful snowy mountains and pine trees.  Flagstaff had been on our list of Possible Places to Move when we'd had the chance to move anywhere in the world and chose Fort Collins.  But I hadn't really known what Flagstaff was like.  I hadn't given it a fair chance.  Maybe I should have.

As soon as we got ourselves up and moving in the morning, we left for the hour (more like hour and a half) drive to the Grand Canyon.  We didn't have much time before we needed to head to Phoenix, so we only stopped at the visitor center on the South Rim.  The parking lot was like Disney World (not like I've ever been, though) and the look-out point was so crowded with masses of tourists that I had to wait my turn, then elbow my way in, just to get a glimpse of what I was supposed to see.

It was far from the transcendent experience Linda had described so many years ago.

Oh, there it is. I guess.

After taking a few photos, we went into the visitor center, where I bought a Grand Canyon refrigerator magnet, bumper sticker, and mouse pad.  Because it seemed the thing to do.  Then we got back in the car and drove to Phoenix.  What Google Maps had estimated as 14 hour trip from home took us two entire days.

I thought a lot about Linda's Grand Canyon on the rest of the drive and as we checked in to pick up our race packets for Across The Years.  The Grand Canyon hadn't affected me like it had for her.  Maybe I was more like the rest of her family, who had thought it was nice but then was ready to move on.

And that's okay.  Linda's Grand Canyon didn't have to be catharsis for me.  Plenty of other things have been my Grand Canyon throughout the years.  The first time I climbed up to the waterfall in San Ramón.  My last day in the forest when Wrinkle Belly came down low in the trees to say goodbye. Anytime I see the ocean.  Canyonlands.  In fact, the whole state of Utah might be my catharsis.

I looked down at my bib number for Across The Years and thought, maybe I've been chasing that feeling all my life.

I think they printed a surplus of bibs last year and then re-used them for 2015-16.

Thanks for reading.

Christmas Past

Christmas 2015 was the first time we ever had Christmas on our own, without traveling (often to numerous locations) to be with family.  It was the first time Will ever had Christmas with just us, his mom and dad, in our own house.

It was wonderful, but lonely too.

We had decided to do this because we'd seen all our families in both August and late October.  And if we didn't go back "home" for Christmas, we could go to Arizona at the end of December and run Across The Years.  Which seemed like the thing to do.

There was a full moon on Christmas Eve, for the first time since 1977 apparently. (Photo by Rob)

Will was so excited about Christmas.  He spent the entire month of December giddy with anticipation.  On the big day, he managed to sleep until about 7 o'clock before woke me by zipping into our room and pressing his face against mine, asking to eat breakfast and open presents.

He got way too many presents.

He stripped down to his underpants when he opened the light saber.  I have no idea why.

The X-Wing suit was just what he always wanted.

Will gave me a Rey and BB-8 doll, because he thought I needed something to play with.

I wanted to keep things simple for Christmas dinner, so I had bought a Gardein brand "holiday roast."

Vegan "roast beast"

I bought an extra package of stuffing to go along with it, and I roasted some carrots, Brussel's sprouts, and onions.  Rob and Will had requested mashed potatoes, so I made those too, and because I thought we needed something else green, I decided to add green beans to the mix.  All of it was really simple and took me less than 2 hours to make, as light saber battles raged around me.

I was very pleased at how it all turned out, and really, how very easy it was.  Somebody remind me next year to just do this again and not try something fancy.

Oh, and the best part too, was what I created for dessert, which Rob named Peppermint Winter Cake.  It is really just my usual chocolate cake (the one I make for all celebrations: birthdays, graduations, weddings, etc), except instead of vanilla, I added peppermint extract, and I substituted some of the sugar for crushed candy canes.  I also melted chocolate chips on top for frosting and then sprinkled the remaining crushed candy canes on top of that.  It was good, very good.

However, once Christmas was out of the way, there was nothing to keep me from succumbing completely to taper madness and full-on panicking about Across The Years.  I'd been wandering around the house for days, making lists of things and doing some light packing, but I was nowhere near ready.  By the end of the day, I was a nervous wreck.  

In my mind, I knew what kind of abysmally pathetic training I'd had and that attempting Across The Years under these conditions was just about the stupidest thing I could do.  But in my heart I thought, of course you can.  And with that, it was time to go.

Thanks for reading.

Origin Story of Ultra Ordinary Running

I really like listening to ultra running podcasts when I run, but more and more I've been feeling like I wish there was one out there that was about people more like me.  Interviews with the elites and news from the top of the field are great, and that's information I want to know, but I also find I have hard time relating to it.  I finish in the middle of the pack.  I don't have an entourage.  I am constantly trying to negotiate my training/racing around Will's and Rob's schedules.  I once got up extra early to put on a crock pot of vegetarian chili for the rest of the family before I left to go run a marathon.  I realize that many elite runners have regular jobs and families too, but the crock pot of chili thing--that's what gets me.  I doubt many high level runners are doing that.

I searched around a little bit to try and find any podcasts about ordinary ultra runners like me, and while I found quite a few good shows that I now listen to, I still was wishing there was something more.

Then one day while I was running in circles, training for Across The Years, I thought... What if I started a podcast.  I am an ordinary ultra runner, I am a person like me.  And then I thought, so are Angela and Christina.  We should do this together.

I came home and messaged Angela and Christina.  What if we started a podcast, I wrote.  And then I deleted the message before I sent it.  They might not want to.  And they almost certainly didn't have the time.

I went about my day and ran again the next morning.  The idea was still there.  We should start a podcast.  Angela and Christina had almost succeeded in reeling me in to train for and run the Javelina 100 next October, and it seemed like it would be kind of a cool thing, if we documented the journey.  They are going to make it there, I know that for sure.  I remain just a little bit on the edge.  I know I can't count my money while I'm still sitting at the table-- I've been dealing with this calf/tibia injury for too long to say that anything is a sure thing.  I'll do my best to get healthy and stay healthy.  I'll arrange my schedule so that its open for that weekend.  I'll try not to go crazy thinking about how far 100 miles really is.

So I sent them the message, and they were in.  Just like that, we started a podcast.

It has been a truly amazing process over the last couple of weeks as we've worked to put this together.  I've learned so much about servers, hosting, websites, Skype, and Twitter.  None of us live in the same place, so we've done this whole thing via text and phone conversations.  I love the way it has come together so organically.  We're all trying to figure this out, and as we come up with something that needs to be done, one of us just does it.  I think it was Angela who first came up with the name.  Ultra ordinary.  That just fits us so well.

We recorded our first episode over the weekend and released it on Monday.  The technical aspect of it was harder than I thought it would be, and Rob had to do most of the work.  He said I will get the hang of it in time.  I hope so.

You can listen to Ultra Ordinary Running on iTunes or streaming from our very own, brand new website!

I've had so much fun doing this with Angela and Christina, and we have a lot of great things planned over the next 10-ish months to JJ100.  And possibly beyond!  I honestly don't know how this will all shake out with me and my chronically-injured tibia and calf, but I figure I will give it my best shot.  And I'm okay with it-- I'm okay with still doing the podcast and cheering on Angela and Christina even if I can't kick this injury and have to pull out or not make it to the finish.  After all, it's about the journey.

Thanks for reading/listening.

 

And just for fun, this again:

Dear William (76 months)

Dear William,
You may have noticed that a few days ago, you turned 76 months old, and I didn't write you a letter.  I think that's the first time this has happened since I started writing to you when you were just 4 or 5 months old.  Sorry about that.  Things have been a little busy around here.  I'll try to recap as best I can.

We had a lot of adventures this past month, including a Weekend of a Little Bit Wild.  Your dad took you rock climbing at an indoor gym, and then we went to Colorado Springs, where we visited the Manitou Cliff Dwellings and Garden of the Gods. We camped in Pike National Forest that night, where it was 18 degrees and there was snow on the ground. You loved it. We were all very happy.

We also had Thanksgiving. Or as we call it, Vegan Friendsgiving.  Friends from Idaho came to visit.  It was the best time ever.

We took them bouldering.

A light saber battle ensued.

Then the next day, it snowed.

We still had a feast.  It was a chickpea based celebration.

After our friends went back to Idaho, we got an Xmas tree.

You and daddy decorated the whole thing while I went for a fun-and-safe nighttime 20 mile run.

Speaking of mileage, you put in a few good runs.

And you kept up with your interest in space.

You were thrilled when school was canceled for today because we got 9 inches of snow overnight.  You wanted to watch movies all day, but we managed to go outside and have some fun for a little while.

William, you are my best little buddy.  Stay gold.

Love,

Mama

November 2015 Mileage: Is this the High

Sometimes my tibia injury still hurts. Sometimes.  But mostly it is better.  This is a good thing.

You may have heard about how we went to a sale at REI, and I got some used $20 Hoka Stinsons.

I started making some big plans.  Big, big, plans.

Will's vocabulary sheet

We went on a camping trip to Pike National Forest, where I ran in the snow.

I hope to run a race here in the summer, when there will probably be less snow.

Then I ran a 45 mile week. I wasn't even thinking about it.  It just happened. I made a playlist based on the suggestions from Christina's blog and didn't even realize how far I was running.  I should have been keeping my mileage low until I'm sure the injury is gone.  It hurt again after that week, and I briefly thought I'd ruined everything.  But after 3 days of rest, it seemed fine again.

We had friends visit from Idaho for Thanksgiving, and we had tons and tons of snow.  I ran anyway.

The snow isn't helping me with my long term goals for 2016, which may include up to 3 trips to Arizona.

The first of these trips may actually happen at the end of 2015.  And that isn't too far away.  I hadn't thought I'd get in a long run this past weekend, on account of the snow, ice, and generally terrible weather.  But once I started, I felt like I could go forever.  I wished I'd brought some food and more than 20 ounces of water with me.

It occurred to me that this might be my one chance for a long run before the big, big race I still haven't registered for at the end of 2015.  The remaining weekends are full with other plans, and soon enough, it will be time to taper.

I hadn't run more than 13.4 miles at once since Bear Chase, and I decided it was now or never.  Snow or no snow, food or no food, I had to be selfish, I had to do this.  I came home for some Clif bars, Tailwind, and more water, and told Rob and Will I was going out for a few more hours.  I had to get 20 miles in.  Not like that is some kind of magic number, but maybe it would help me cross some kind of mental barrier, just knowing I could do that.  In the snow.

So I did.  It wasn't easy, but it wasn't necessarily hard either.  I just kept listening to the music and putting one foot in front of the other.  Slowly.  And sure enough, I made it 20 miles.

I still don't know if I'm really up to the challenge of those big plans looming on the horizon.  But I do think that if the weeks of injury following Bear Chase were a low, then this is the high.


148.55 miles in November.  Finally, getting somewhere.  My tibia seems to have survived two fairly aggressive back-to-back weeks despite what conventional wisdom would say about injury recovery.  1452.78 miles year to date.  If I only run another 47.22 in December, I'll make it to my arbitrary goal of 1500. That puts me way ahead of the game as compared to last year, when I was still 170 miles behind.  Anything could happen though.  I'm not going to say that my tibia injury is behind me, even though I wish it were.  I just need to listen, learn to be sensible, and keep my eyes on the prize.

Thanks for reading.