Crossfit Day 13

I did see today's WOD last night, but I wasn't too concerned about it. I have faith by now that I can finish, even if I need to modify and use less weight than almost everyone else. I was more worried about getting up at 5am and then making it to work on time. It seemed to take me forever to fall asleep. Then, I kept waking up in the night, thinking it was time to get up when it was only midnight or 3am. I felt hollow and exhausted when the alarm did buzz me awake, but I got moving and ate part of a protein bar before heading over to my Crossfit gym.

We had to do the inch worm to warm up this morning, so I felt my shortness, but there were enough people there to conceal how slow I felt. There were like ten people there (my math isn't too solid that early), which is more than twice as many as were at the 6:30pm class last night. I half thought that it wouldn't be so well attended, being that it was way too early to be awake and working out, in my opinion.

The skill portion was working on power cleans - another movement that I have to remind my knees to stay out for. I think I have a better grasp on how to do those properly, but I know I need more work, more practice before I can up the weight I'm lifting significantly.

Today's WOD was finally one of those with a name. I had read about Crossfit workouts being given female names, but my gym hadn't done one since I joined. I wasn't sure if it just wasn't something that they did, or if I just hadn't encountered one yet. Well, today, we did "Diane."

21-15-9
- Deadlift (225/155)
- HSPU

Of course, I am not yet able to do deadlifts at 155 pounds. (Actually, I'm not sure if that's physically possible - can you deadlift more than your body weight?) The last time I did deadlifts, on Saturday, I did them at 65lbs. So today I decided to try for something harder and do 75lbs. It was difficult to lift the bar at that weight, but not impossible.

I did the hand stand push ups with the box assistance again by resting my thighs on the box and going as straight down as possible to mimic the hand stand part of the push up. I was tempted to try a real hand stand push up, but not tempted enough to actually do it.

It doesn't take nearly as long to complete the workout when the hand stand push ups are modified and the deadlifts are under 100 pounds. I was second to finish (4:38), but my heart was pounding and I knew I had pushed myself. Just a little bit more each time, and maybe by the end of my month I'll do one at the "RX" - the prescribed weight.

The gym is closed tomorrow for New Year's Day. My body is happy for a rest day.

Crossfit Day 12

Today I went back to work, which means I have a choice. I can get up way early (5am), and go to a class before I go to work, or I can go to the latest class offered in the evening (6:30pm). Each has its advantages and disadvantages, but today I chose to do the late class.

Maybe I'm getting used to the insanity, but I just couldn't muster any anxiety about today's WOD:

AMRAP in 15 minutes:
- 5 Toes to Bar
- 10 Wallballs
- 15 KB Swings

Of course, this didn't list any minimum weights, which I found out just before we started were supposed to be 14 pound balls and 53 pound kettle bells for women and 20 and 70 for men.

But before that little revelation was the warm-up, which was a bit more extensive than usual. And for once, there were no warm-ups that made me feel short.

See, at a height of 5'3" some of the warm-ups naturally take me longer. Like the inch worm, which starts with hands touching toes, and then walking out to plank, then a push up, and then walk feet to hands. Or the broad jump, though I can't entirely blame my lack of distance on lack of height.

I really enjoyed trying handstands against the wall as a shoulder warm up. At first, I couldn't get up because I was hesitant to kick up. But once I let myself not worry about kicking the wall I was able to get up and stay up for a count of 25.

Then for skill there was some demonstration and practice of Turkish Get Ups, which is a kettle bell maneuver that involves laying flat, and then holding one arm (with kettle bell) straight up, and keeping it up as the body is brought to standing, and then back down to flat. It's supposed to be all about core strength, but my left arm had a hard time holding that weight up without shaking.

Then it was time for the AMRAP. I really wanted to go for the lightest kettle bell, but I let the trainer convince me to go for the 35 pounder. Of my own volition, I bumped up the wall ball from the lightest 8 pound ball to the second lightest 10 pounder. I'm working my way up. For the Toes to Bar, I did the progression of knees to armpits.

That was a really, really long 15 minutes. I'm improving on my wall balls. I actually was able to perform 1 full set of 10 without dropping the ball or breaking form (out of 8 sets). On the knees to armpits, I tried to get to the next progression a few times, by leaning my head back and trying to kick my toes up, but I don't think I got very high. The trainer told me that the kettle bell was too light for me, but it was plenty heavy to me.

I got some more words on keeping my knees out when standing up from a squat. I know that's something I have to work on, because it does feel better and stronger when I keep them out, but it's hard to make my body remember when I'm tired.

When the time was up, I wrote down that I had completed 7 reps of my 8th round, and I wrote that on the board, but that wasn't actually correct. I had completed 7 kettle bell swings, which means I completed 22 reps of my 8th round. That's how tired I was - I messed up simple addition, even after I had spent a minute collapsed and gasping for breath.

Tomorrow I'm going to try the 5:30am class. That's two classes in 12 hours. Wheee!

Crossfit Day 11

I was glad today to take the day off of the WOD and just do the yoga class. The stretching and breathing really help me feel more mobile afterwards, less like I've been beaten to a pulp. I appreciate taking the time to take care of my body, instead of just trying to recreate it with the hard exercises of Crossfit.

I can see differences on my body. Not just the bruises and scrapes - I can see more muscle definition on my arms and legs. And my stomach appears to be losing some fat as well. I can almost see that six-pack I've always told my husband was hiding under there.

The physical challenges of Crossfit are obvious, but the mental ones are just as important. I felt embarrassed at first yesterday to have to go for 30 rounds to make my 10,000 pounds. I thought about offering to stop, so I wouldn't keep everyone. But there was no time cap set. And I was not going to quit, even if the thought did occur to me...

But no one gave any indication that they thought my finishing was a bad idea. All I got was encouragement and support, so my embarrassment did fade away as I grunted and breathed and swore my way through the last rounds and reps.

I was a bit worried about the yoga today because of the bruise on my shin. I figured there might be poses that put weight on it, but it turned out that we didn't do anything that put pressure on it directly. There were some difficult sections, but I left feeling much better than when I arrived.

Except, when I got home, I felt very cold. I wrote it off as just a reaction to the temperature outside, but as the afternoon wore on, I had to concede that my husband's cold had caught up with me. So now I've got sore muscles from Crossfit crazy and body aches from a cold. Oh, and a multicolored shin bruise the size of my hand.

I'm still going to go to Crossfit tomorrow.

Am I crazy?

Crossfit Day 10

I guess it isn't really a big deal. Not for people accustomed to athletic endeavor. But it wasn't all that long ago that I would have taken a week or more off of any exercise at all after injuring myself like I did yesterday. And it is backpacking that prepared me to work through the injury instead of quitting on myself. Because if I injured myself on a backpacking trip, then I would need to figure out a way to get myself back to the trail head. I need to be able to think through an injury, and make decisions.

So the new, athletic me, iced, compressed and elevated, resting as much as possible and taking acetaminophen (since aspirin is counter-indicated for contusions). This morning when I looked at the WOD, I was really happy that there would be no box jumps today. Instead...

“10,000 lbs”
Set up 2 Barbells, one each for:
Deadlifts and
Strict Press
For time:
Alternate between 3 DL and 3 Presses until you have accumulated 10,000 pounds lifted.

At least it didn't involve my shin, right? And I had on a double layer of knee socks to keep the bruise compressed for the workout, because I didn't want to chance the bandage coming unwrapped as I moved.

I did have some dread for this when I calculated how many reps it would take me if I had 50 pounds of weight. 200 is an awful lot of reps. But it didn't end up being quite that many.

I only needed 180 reps.

30 rounds of 3 deadlifts at 65 pounds followed by 3 presses at 45 pounds.

I felt kind of pathetic using weights that were so low, but I couldn't even do one rep of the presses with 55 pounds. And it was a struggle to finish the presses at the weight that I had. Everyone else (okay, that was only three people, this morning's 9am class was not heavily attended) had 18 rounds or less to complete, and they were all done before I was halfway through.

I hated it, in some ways. Having to press on, and on, and on, while everyone else watched. But they didn't just watch. They encouraged me. They helped me count. They helped me finish.

It took me 18:47 to get through all 30 rounds (and I only know that because someone else noted the time for me).

But I did it.

I lifted 10,000 pounds.

After my last press, I dumped the barbell to the ground and got high-fives from the other three participants and the two trainers. Then I collapsed for a few moments while they began to put up their equipment. I was drained, finished, dizzy and flushed with satisfaction.

One of the guys afterward talked to me about how he thought of ultra-marathons while he was watching me. He ran a 100 mile race, and the winner did it in 18 hours. He finished in 33 hours. But it's hard to tell who worked harder - the one who finishes faster, or the one who keeps pushing, even if it's slow.

I might not finish fastest, and I might not lift the heaviest weights, but I will finish, and I will challenge myself.

But first, I need to take a nap.

Crossfit Day 9

I fought the box, and the box won...

Ever since I began the Crossfit classes, I've been collecting a variety of bruises and scrapes. The very first class gave my shoulders quite a beating as I did the first Olympic weight lifting of my life. The burpees tend to leave my knees scraped, and, I'm not sure how, but it seems like there's a new little bruise on my shins every day.

This morning, I looked at the WOD, and I was afraid. Very afraid.

For time:
- Row 1,000m

THEN

3 Rounds for Time:
- 20 Box jumps
- 30 walking lunges

I knew rowing 1000 meters would take me some time, but was doable. I've been doing walking lunges after my runs for months now, so that wasn't a worry. But 20 box jumps. 3 sets of 20 box jumps. I just wasn't sure if I could do it.

Sure, I did box jumps before, but in sets of 10 and sets of 6. And not after rowing 1000 meters!

At any rate, after warming up we spent some time working on a back squat. The goal weight was one and a half times body weight. I did not go for that weight, because I am not sure that I can do that, yet. I did 85 pounds, and made myself do one set of 20. I've got to work on keeping my knees out as I stand up from the squat.

Then it was time for the rowing and box jumps and walking lunges (oh my!).

There were only three other people taking the class this morning at 8am. We wheeled out our rowing machines and dragged out our boxes and then it was time to start.

As I expected, I took the longest to finish the 1000 meters. The row turned my legs into noodles, but I managed to get my first set of 20 box jumps done. I couldn't do the ideal of jump up, then down and up. I jumped up, and then stepped down. It took a long time. Well, it felt like it took a long time.

Then the first set of lunges gave my legs a whole new appreciation for weakness and pain. And I made it back to my box and jumped up. Stepped down. Jumped - fell.

Kinda.

I mean. I missed the top of the box. And my shin slid-slammed onto the edge of the box, and my knee bumped it and I fell to the ground and cried out.

The trainer came over and looked. No skin breakage, just a nasty scrape. She asked me if I could go on, and I said yes. I turned back to the box and she told me to take a moment, take a deep breath, and go over to the weight stack and do step ups, as long as it didn't hurt my shin.

And it didn't. I think I was running on adrenalin at the time, it really didn't hurt, and I finished that set doing step ups. I did the second round of lunges as everyone else was finishing their third rounds.

But I finished my third round. 20 step ups. 30 walking lunges. I yelled out my count on the walking lunges from 19 to 30. Even when I felt mildly embarrassed, because the music ended just as I got to 29, and I yelled into a quiet gym. Well. Not entirely quiet. The other people in the class were clapping and yelling encouragement.

13:07. Finished.

The trainer got me an ice pack while we cooled down and stretched. And when I got home I continued the ice treatment before I took a torturously cool shower. My shin was already swelling with a bruise, and I knew hot water would only make it worse. After the shower, I wrapped it as tight as I could stand with a bandage and I've been keeping it elevated and iced as much as I can stand.

I feel like I've been beaten. I thought I had run out of new places to be sore, but the front of my neck is sore. My abs are sore from my ribs to my pelvis. Legs, especially the bruised shin.

What can I say?

I love it.

Crossfit Day 8

I waited again to check out the WOD until the morning. But it was weird - I had been wondering if the climbing ropes would be used any time soon, and, lo and behold:

AMRAP in 20 minutes:
- 1 Rope Climb
- 20 Sit-ups
- 40 Double unders

I knew that there would be something that I could do besides climbing the rope, but I honestly didn't know if I could climb a rope or not. I have never tried, not once in my whole life. It wasn't a part of my school gym classes, and it wasn't something that I'd ever had opportunity to try on my own. I still don't know if I can or not, because there really wasn't enough time to try.

So I did the modification. A rope was hung over one of the pull up bars, and I had the option of bent knees or straight legs as I pulled myself up from the ground, hand over hand, up the rope, and then down the rope. I did bent legs, yelling with every new grip by the third round.

Oh, and I had to do five repetitions, since I was doing the progression instead of the real rope climb. Almost everyone else in the class climbed the rope, but since it was in another room, I couldn't watch them. I really wanted to watch, but not so much that I wanted to lose time on my own rounds.

I can do sit-ups, no modification needed,  but the modification for double unders was three times as many singles for this class. 120. Or, count attempts at double unders. I did try that at first, trying to do double unders. I think I did one by accident when we were practicing the movement before time started, but I wasn't sure. And it just got to be too difficult trying to focus on what counts as an attempt, warming up with some singles and then trying a double. So I did singles for most of the rounds.

One nice thing about the AMRAP is that I have no idea how far behind everyone else I'm getting. I thought I was doing well by getting five rounds and two reps into it. But then I saw how many rounds other people were putting up. Nobody I saw had less than six.

But it's okay. The modifications did take extra time to complete. And I was completely wiped out by the time I finished.

When the time was halfway done, the trainer yelled out that he wanted us to go faster, finish stronger. So I've got my answer as to whether it's good that I speed up as I go through the workout. And I did it again today. It took me nearly half the time to do my first two rounds, and I managed to get through three in the second ten minutes.

The Rec Center didn't open until noon today, so I got home and took a break from exercising. Then my husband and I went to the Rec. He did his run, and I did mine before heading to the bouldering cave. Every time I go there, I get just a little bit higher, or touch a handhold that was out of reach the last time I tried. Today was no different. And there was a guy using the area, but instead of ignoring me, he actually had some tips, which was nice.

But I didn't stay too long. My forearms felt (feel) shredded from the rope climb progression.

Tomorrow will just be a WOD again.

Yay.

Crossfit Day 7

There is no class offered tomorrow at my gym, it being Christmas and all.

So today we got an early Christmas present for our WOD:

“Twelve Days of Christmas” for time:
Complete 1, then 1&2, then 1&2&3, and so on till you get to 12:
Clean (135/95)*
HSPU
Front Squats (135/95)*
Sumo Deadlift High Pull (135/95)*
Chest to Bar Pull Ups
Box Jumps (30/24)
Burpees
Push Ups
Wall Balls (20/14)
KB Swings
Deadlifts (135/95)*
Thrusters (135/95)*
* Same bar and weight will be used for these movements.
(35 min time cap)

I did manage not to look at the WOD until this morning, so I wasn't worrying about how the heck I was supposed to do all of this while trying to fall asleep. I only had about an hour to worry about how I was going to do it, in the morning before walking over.

I didn't bother to look anything up online, because I knew by now that there would be demonstrations - of both the full movement and the modification that I would invariably have to do for some of the exercises. It's a little frustrating to me that I have to do modifications and lower weights right now, but I don't want to injure myself. I'm trying to push my limits, but not break them.

I was hoping that the progress would be like the song, doing one, then two, one, then three, two, one. But it wasn't. We always started at one and worked our way up to the next level. One, one-two, one-two-three, etc... until we hit one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve.

So we ended up doing 12 cleans, 22 hand stand push-ups (my modification was doing them from a V position), 30 front squats, 36 sumo deadlift high pulls (wide stance, close grip, pulling the bar up with high elbows), 40 chest to bar pull-ups (I used a band), 42 box jumps, 42 burpees, 40 push ups, 36 wall balls, 30 kettle bell swings, 22 deadlifts and 12 thrusters (evil - clean the bar, then squat down and stand up while pushing the bar all the way overhead).

I finished in 32:25, using a bar with 45 pounds for the bar work, an 8 pound ball for the wall balls and a 17 pound kettle bell for the swings.

Then I collapsed on the floor and listened to my heart galloping in my chest. There was a trash can in the center of the room just in case anyone needed to puke. And this was the closest I'd come to needing it so far.

But, there were some good things about this workout. I did a lot better on the wall balls than I had last time, using my hips to thrust the ball up to the 9 foot target and going back down into a squat as the ball came down. I did have problems with getting it on the target still, sometimes it came down over my head so I couldn't catch it correctly, but it was better.

The chest to bar pull ups were not as hard as I thought they would be, at least, not with the band for assistance. I brought out two bands, but I only ended up using one, albeit the thicker one. I was also a lot calmer about the box jumps, although on the last round I actually missed one jump. My left foot slid off the box and I had to kind of fall off and reset myself before trying again. But that was good, because the mistake didn't mess me up. I just kept going.

Every time I sit down now, my thighs scream. My lower back is sore. My arms are sore. Everything is sore. But I finished. I got in under the time cap, so I think that means that the amount of weight I was using, however low, was the right amount. I have learned from backpacking that it takes time to build yourself up to heavier packs and longer distances. I've just got to let myself take the same approach here.

The real gift is tomorrow is a complete and total rest day.

But I'll be back at it Thursday.

Crossfit Day 6

The WOD for today looked extremely intimidating when I accidentally caught a peak yesterday, and it didn't get any easier looking when my husband asked me what it was yesterday.

- 50 Air Squats
- 10 Deadlifts
- 40 Air Squats
- 8 Deadlifts
- 30 Air Squats
- 6 Deadlifts
- 20 Air Squats
- 4 Deadlifts
- 10 Air Squats
- 2 Deadlifts

The length of the list alone was cause for fear, but adding it all together, I was going to be doing 150 squats, and 30 deadlifts. My mind was just not able to comprehend it fully.

150.

Squats.

And wait a minute, what's an air squat?

I looked those up online yesterday, and they looked like regular squats to me, body weight, very low. The hips have to go below the knees, and the drive comes from the hips, which should pop out on the top.

I tried one before I left for the class - just one because I didn't want to do any more than I had to - and I felt reasonably confident that I could do a few. But 150?

The class began with working on some lifting skills, and I learned a better way to have the bar land for a power clean. I had been landing far back on my shoulders and hitting bone, but the way I was shown today had the bar landing on my muscles instead. It still hurt, but it felt better.

I don't know if this is something that I should be fixing, but I noticed again today that I got faster as the workout went on. I definitely took the longest to do the first set of 50 air squats, but I did not finish last. And I'm almost 100% certain that I didn't skip any sets. I was actually conscious today of starting out a little slower. My right quad felt sore in the motion at first, and I didn't want to strain it. But somewhere in the set of 30, I was able to speed up my squats and I finished in 5:51.

Not first, but not last. And I was only deadlifting with 55lbs. But, as someone said when we were cooling down, "who knew air could be so heavy?"

But it hurt plenty. And I can't sit down now without grunting with pain. Probably didn't help that I went to the gym and did a two mile run after I got home from Crossfit. But I have to keep my runs up so I don't get stiff and let the ITB issue resurface. So I did it, and then my normal post-run lunges (30 forward, 30 backward, around the track with a 10lb plate over my head).

I even went to the bouldering cave after that, but I only stayed about ten minutes, because there was a serious climbing guy there and I felt a bit intimidated. No, I felt a lot intimidated. He was spidermanning up the wall and I - well, I actually got higher than I ever have before, but my arms and legs were shaking so I got down and went to the hot tub for a rewarding soak.

It's kind of amazing that I managed to leave it.

Tomorrow, I'll "just" be doing a WOD.

Crossfit Day 5

On Sunday's there is no WOD at my gym. Instead, a yoga class is offered.

On the one hand, I'm happy for a break. On the other hand, I didn't know just how hard this yoga class might be. I've attended a few yoga classes before in various venues, and yoga does not necessarily equal easy.

My other concern was that the previous yoga classes that I attended were more spiritually oriented than I like. I understand that yoga and meditation are connected, but I feel like there tends to be an assumption that everyone coming to a yoga class shares the same spiritual ideals, those of the instructor. I had actually asked whether the yoga was very spiritual, and been told that it was not, but that's not an easy thing to define in short conversation.

So I was a little nervous, but I've done four of these crazy Crossfit workouts in the last week. I didn't have much doubt that I could handle a little yoga.

And I could.

I came in with a body battered by an abrupt increase in athletic activity, and I left with a stretched out, slightly less battered feeling body. I'm still sore, but I believe that was an hour well-spent. And not too spiritual for my tastes. The instructor did refer to the yoga as a practice, and it ended with meditation, but it wasn't the kind of meditation that raises my hackles.

It seemed to be more based on a sort of humanist point of view, of being self-aware and de-stressing than adhering to any particular religious angle. I could appreciate the ideas of gratitude and releasing stress.

And I definitely appreciated the opportunity to move and stretch my body, even if the plank section did feel like hell on my shoulders. It was good to have something a little difficult to push through, while other sections challenged my balance and coordination of multiple tasks (like breathing while pulling the belly in and lengthening the spine and not falling over).

I'll be going back next Sunday.

And another WOD tomorrow.

Crossfit Day 4

I wasn't going to look last night and see what torture was to be in store for this morning. Really, I wasn't. But my husband asked, so I did.

3 Rounds for Time:
- 400m Plate walk
- 35 Burpee Pull-ups

I didn't even bother to worry about it this time. I knew that if there was something I couldn't do, then I'd get a modification that would work me as hard as I could work. But this wasn't actually what we ended up doing anyway, because last night it snowed, three or four inches of nice fluffy stuff.

Apparently, the plate walk was an outdoor thing, so with the snow it got switched to 1000m Row. And I got another surprise when the 8am class had finished warming up. This was to be a partner work out.

I was really glad that someone else asked me to partner up before I had much time to look around and feel awkward about not knowing anyone well enough to approach them. He got our equipment set up while I talked to the trainer about what I was supposed to do in lieu of a burpee pull-up, since I can't do pull-ups yet. I really want to, but I'm not there yet. Yet!

The modification was to do burpees, and then band-assisted pull-ups, counting each as a whole rep, so that five burpees and five pull-ups were ten reps off the total of 35 that my partner and I had to do.

So, together, my partner and I had to row 1000 meters, and do 35 burpee pull-ups (or modifications thereof), three times. Not too bad, right? But the person who wasn't currently rowing or burpee pull-upping wasn't just allowed to stand around and rest - that would be too easy. Instead, they got a plate of weight to hold high above their head until they couldn't stand it anymore and took a break by either rowing or burpee pull-upping.

I started with the 25lb plate over my head. Not too bad. I've been doing lunges around the track with a 10 pounder over my head, so the concept wasn't entirely foreign to my body. But the time gets to you, the weight, the balance of keeping it up there when your arms begin to shake.

When we switched, the rowing didn't start out too badly either, but the aerobic effort and the strain on my already punished arms made it harder than I expected. I also managed to row my butt right out of the seat on my first go. I landed on the seat's track and had to stop rowing for a moment to get the seat back under me. I'm still not sure exactly how that happened, but I was able to make sure it didn't happen again.

I went first on the burpee pull-ups, doing five burpees and then using a box to get my foot into the band hung on my bar to do five assisted pull-ups. My partner then did ten full burpee pull-ups, while I held the plate, and then I did my ten more, and he finished with five before we got back to switching off rowing.

We held to the pattern for the other two rounds and finished at about 23 and a half minutes. I forgot the exact time. It was maybe a little easier than yesterday's AMRAP - but that doesn't mean it was easy!

After the cool down, I walked back to my apartment and grabbed my gym bag. Then I walked to the rec center to meet Ambrose. He had driven there around 8am to do his weights and run, and I met him at the bouldering cave where we both spent some time climbing before retreating to the real reason I walked a mile and a half in the snow - the hot tub. It never felt so good.

Four WODs in five days. Not a bad start. Now, for a nap...

Crossfit Day 3

It was probably a bad idea, but I couldn't help myself. I checked out what today's workout of the day would be online last night. And I was scared:

AMRAP in 20 minutes
- 2 MU
- 4 HSPU
- 8 Deadlifts
- 16 Burpees over the bar
- 32 Double Unders

I didn't know what half of these things were, but there was a picture of muscular men hanging from gymnastic rings, so I had a clue. Turns out, an "MU" is a muscle up, which involves getting up like a pull up, and then pushing up so that the arms are extended. I can't even do a pull up, let alone something more, so I just hoped that there would be something I could do as a substitute. "HSPU" is a hand stand push up - again, not something that I know myself to be able to do. I wasn't even sure I could do a hand stand.

I knew deadlifts from weights classes I'd taken at the rec center, and I knew what a burpee was, but I had to look up the over the bar part. It's really just what it sounds like, stepping over the bar you had set up for the deadlifts between each burpee. I looked up double unders and that sounds kind of easy, doing jump rope and getting the rope under your feet twice on one jump. At least, I know how to jump rope.

For some reason, it didn't occur to me to look up AMRAP.

It means pain.

No, it means, "as many rounds as possible."

On second thought, yes, it does mean pain.

I did a morning class this time, and it was the least crowded class I've attended so far, which was nice in a way, because there was plenty of room and I didn't feel too intimidated by everyone else. Not that there weren't some very fit people there - they just didn't make me feel intimidated.

After warming up, we spent some time working on the technique of the muscle up, starting with ring dips - or, in my and some others' cases, band-assisted ring dips. And then some practice movements. And then the AMRAP.

Since I couldn't do a muscle up, I got to grab a set of rings and lean back with my heels on the ground in front of me to do an assisted pull up of sorts, and then do band-assisted dips. The equivalency came out to either to 2 muscle ups or 4 each of the ring pull ups and dips.

Then there was the modification of the hand stand push up. I got one of the jumping boxes and arranged myself so that my head was down and did the push up that way - not a decline push up, which would have been more extended, but a straight up and down, mimicking the hand stand push up. Thankfully, the equivalency was 4 even with the modification.

Once I saw the deadlift movement, I remembered how to do that. I put 30 pounds on my 15 pound bar and was able to do those just fine. The burpees also didn't need any modification, though the trainer did let me know that I didn't have to do strict push ups at the bottom of the burpee. Instead, I just had to make sure my hips went down and my chest touched the ground.

The substitute for 32 double unders was 64 singles.

Ready, set, go!

The first round I went a little slowly. I was getting the hang of the movements and figuring out how I could do them. The first set of jumping rope, I tried a few times to do doubles, but I just didn't have the technique, even though I'd viewed an instructional video online when I looked them up. I finished the first round and marked it down on the little chalkboard and did it again.

I managed 2 rounds in the first 10 minutes and pushed myself to do at least 2 more before the 20 was up. It was odd to me how I was able to go faster on the third and fourth set than I did on the first and second. I was getting more tired, but I was also getting more determined, more used to the motions, more confident in my execution. The fourth round jumping rope, I actually managed to do all 64 singles at a decent pace without stopping and then I tried to get as far as I could into the next round before time ran out.

The clock caught me after the sixth burpee of my fifth round.

I joined the rest of the class on the floor for a few moments, and then began to put my equipment away.

I didn't do the least number of rounds and reps, which I like, even though it's not really a race against anyone but myself. I'm in better shape than I've ever been in my life, and it's letting me get even fitter.

I took a few moments after the class was over just to try a hand stand and see if I could do it. I managed to get myself in the hand stand up against the wall, but I couldn't make my trembling arms go down in a push up attempt.

I'm going to do it again tomorrow. I might be crazy...

Crossfit Day 2

I went back.

I didn't go Wednesday because I went to see a hockey game, but, despite lingering soreness and nervousness regarding the current WOD (workout of the day), I went back for the Thursday noon class.

5 Rounds for time:
- 10 Knees to elbow
- 10 Box jumps
- 10 Wallball

Foolishly, I was most worried about the knees to elbow part, since that involved hanging from a bar and driving the knees up to touch the elbows. I didn't think twice about the box jumps or wallball. But when I started, the modification for knees to elbows, knees to armpits, wasn't that hard. I mean, it was hard. It got me fluttering and nervous.

But then I was facing the 20" box, and, for some reason that I can't quite figure out, I was really scared of it. I stared at it and tried to get myself to jump, but I felt weak all over and it didn't seem possible. The coach came over and talked to me about technique and asked if I had or could jump that high. I'm not really sure what he said, I'm totally beat right now. But I did a practice jump and then forced myself to get to the box and almost fell off backwards trying to stand up.

He got me to stand closer and I was able to finish the set, but every rep was scary and difficult.

The wallball wasn't any easier. I started with a ten pound ball and switched out to an eight pound ball after the first round. I had a hard time getting the technique down, going into the low squat with the hips back and using the hips to thrust the ball almost straight up and catching it while going back down into the next squat.

By the third set, I felt beat up, but I kept pushing. The knees to armpits was getting harder, but the box jump was getting, well, not easier, but less scary. I was able to get a few reps of hopping down and then right back up instead of stepping down.

By the fifth set, I was almost the last one still going. And while I was finishing my box jumps, the second to last person finished. I was really glad at this point that we had introduced ourselves at the beginning of class with how long we'd been doing Crossfit, so I wouldn't feel quite so awkward at my performance being so slow. And I didn't feel awkward, I didn't have time to feel anything as I pushed myself to finish as strong as I could, listening to the rest of the class count down my wallballs and shout encouragement.

12:19 with an eight pound ball, but I finished.

And then I went to the gym with Ambrose and did a two mile run, followed by some stationary biking just to keep myself from getting stiff and then went to the bouldering cave and climbed a bit before soaking my weary bones in the hot tub.

I feel like an athlete today.

The Great Crossfit Experiment Begins

Ever since Arbor Crossfit moved in three blocks away from my apartment, I've gazed at it when driving or biking past with a combination of curiosity and fear.

I'd heard of Crossfit, read a few Workout of the Days, but never dared to try it for myself.

Until today.

The first class is free, and I signed up online. The confirmation email advised me to arrive ten to fifteen minutes early to sign the waiver and get a tour of the facility, so I left my apartment at ten after 6 and walked over in the cold, nervous, because from what I knew of Crossfit, I was definitely about to be intimidated. What kept me going was the thought that they wanted customers, they didn't want to chase people away, not a business that wanted to make money.

There were two doors, and through a window I could see a group of people lifting barbells laden with weight to the sound of pounding music loud enough to be heard outside. That was a little intimidating, but once I opened the door that didn't lead directly to the gym I found myself in a small entry area that wasn't quite so scary.

I got registered and set up and signed away my rights to sue for injury or death resulting from the strenuous physical activity I was about to subject myself to, and then I got a tour of the facility, including parts that were still in progress. It's still a fairly new facility. But adequate to the purpose.

I met a couple people before the class began and then we did a few warm-ups. Next I split off from the main group to get an introduction to lifting techniques. I had done a clean and press before in a lift class at my gym, but I wanted to be sure that I was getting this right before jumping in. So I practiced the movements of the power clean with a medicine ball and then a 15lb bar before adding 2 10lb plates and getting started.

I didn't catch how many I was supposed to do, because of the time spent learning, so I'm not sure I got as many done as I was supposed to. But that was okay. That wasn't the timed part. The timed part came next. A set of power cleans followed by a set of shoulder to overheads. 3 each, then 6 each, 9 each, 12 each, 9 each, 6 each, 3 each.

I had 35lbs, and I finished in 7:48.

Unless, of course, I lost count in the craziness.

It was hard. My collarbone is already red, and I wouldn't be surprised to see some bruising blossom up. But I did it. I had to scream and yell to get that bar over my head on the 9s and the 12. I did it for fun on the last sets, pushing and releasing that energy with a triumphant yell before dropping the bar to the ground with a satisfying bounce.

I can't stop smiling.

I think I'm addicted.

I've paid myself up for a month of unlimited classes, and I'm going to go every day that they're open if I can stand it. At least every day for the next week and a half while I'm off work.

Between that and working the bouldering cave at the gym, it's going to be one Merry Fitness for me this year. Who needs New Year's to start a resolution?

Merry Bouldering!

Today I bought myself a little early present. My first pair of climbing shoes.

I've been using the bouldering cave at the gym for the past couple months, once a week or so, trying to get my running shoes and hiking boots to stick to the wall. They really aren't meant to work for it, and they really don't.

But the experience of trying gave me the confidence to invest in a pair of shoes that will work. The first time I went on the wall, I was laughing at myself and my inability to do more than cling to the most handle-like protrusions. Every time I tried to get higher, my feet would slide and I would panic and just give up.

But I kept at it. I tried again, and did a little better. I switched from running shoes to hiking boots, which were actually better than the running shoes. See, the shoes are smaller, they flex more, but the soles might as well be coated in teflon for all they could stick to the wall, while the boots, while a lot bigger, were made for walking on rocks (and dirt and whatever), so they were better able to cling.

And every time, I found myself trying something different, getting a little bit higher, moving on the wall with more confidence, and jumping down instead of falling off.

Today, after I bought the shoes, I did a two mile run (in 19:46!), and then I went to the wall again.

It was amazing.

All those little tiny "rocks" that I could never get any purchase on were suddenly useful. I could feel secure with my footholds instead of wondering if the sole was about to slide out when I tried to step up on it. I found myself forcing reaches that my arms insisted they couldn't do, making my right hand hold the weight my legs didn't have while I reached over with my left for a new hold (uttering a primal grunt really helped). I couldn't (and can't) get the smile off of my face.

Next up: getting myself belay certified and going for the big wall.

Slow Running

Lately, I've been running fast, at least, as fast as I can run. That's one of my long term goals - to be able to run faster. But sometimes it's harder to slow myself down than it is to go all out.

I admit, there is a certain amount of, let's see, exhaustion, contributing to my decision to run slowly. But there are other considerations, I swear!

How else could I work on my bio-mechanics other than slowing down my run, thereby allowing myself more time and attention to the placement of my feet, the flexion of my ankles, the rotation of my torso and, of course, the all-important pelvic tilt?

Without the tension that I find still plagues me when I run fast enough to challenge my current lung capacity, my runs take on a more meditative quality. I feel like my body is coming into more harmony with the actions, motions and positions of running. My steps, though slow, have a refreshing sense of lightness.

Until I start feeling a twinge of knee pain.

By this point, though, I'm accustomed to feeling the twinges as a welcome corrective for my running form. In this slow run, I am trying new methods and I must expect that some of them would not work out exactly as I intend. Not at first anyway. Most of the time, I respond to the twinge by re-adjusting my stride back to where I know I won't hurt. But every now and then, I keep going through the twinge of pain, paying particular attention to the changes I made, because I'm learning how to feel when my body is telling me to stop because I'm about to hurt myself and when to keep going because my body is just protesting change (or the "new world order" as I like to joke).

When it's just protesting the new world order, I know it within five minutes or so. If the pain fades, then I'm right, and if it doesn't, then I give up the changes and revert to baseline to prevent potential injury.

It isn't that I don't do these things when I'm running faster, but that I can't devote as much attention to them if I'm also pushing the speed. I get distracted when I'm moving fast, as much by the effort of the speed as by the clock itself, which becomes an enemy to fight. By giving myself the right to run slow, the clock settles into a blissful neutrality.

Okay, that's a lie. I do feel a bit irritated to see I'm running 14 minute miles. I feel awkward as other runners glide past me with ease, knowing I could go faster, knowing they would still pass me at my maximum speed... So, I scoff at their speed. Sure, she goes fast, but she stops after three laps, I assure myself, and, just look at that form, he's just begging for an injury. But beneath it simmers an envy at their carefree strides that take them past me again and again.

So I convince myself to take pride in running slow in the hopes that improvement in form will lead to a natural increase in speed. And I take comfort in knowing just how far I've already come, from being unable to run five minutes without debilitating knee pain to running more than 60 minutes with only the normal sore muscles that come from the socially acceptable masochism we call running.

Running the Track

It's not due to be above freezing for the foreseeable future here in Boise, so I'm glad that I have access to a gym so I can run without worrying about frostbite. Not that I haven't run outside. I've run in snow before, and I actually kind of like it. Once you get started, you warm up in the core and it doesn't feel quite so cold anymore.

But it's just not as easy to get into running when the temperatures creep ever closer to the single digits. And every time I'm on the track at the gym, it seems like more people are joining in on the indoor running fun. I like that. It's nice to have someone I'm trying to catch, and even, once in a great while, to pass someone other than my husband.

If only they were literate...

I jest, of course, I'm sure they can read. It's just that they don't. There are signs clearly indicating that the inner track lane, which is the widest one, is designated for walking, and the two outer, narrower, lanes are designated for jogging and running. And yet, every time I'm on the track I see people running in the inside lane.

I guess I can understand the desire to do that. After all, the inside lane is the shortest in length, so if you're running for laps, then they would go by faster that way. So the desire to be lazy probably draws those folk to that inner lane, and I can safely look down my nose at them as they pass me because I'm taking the high ground and running on the very outside of the outer most lane.

Sometimes people walk in the outer lane, but that doesn't happen nearly as often. Actually, one time I witnessed someone doggedly walking in the exact center of the track, and that I really didn't understand.

Usually, these rule breakers have no effect on me, and while I note them, because there's very little to distract my attention when I'm running around an 11 lap/mile track, I don't dwell on them.

But the other day, I was running a fast 3 miles around the track, and I was in my last lap of running, so I sped up, and went faster and faster. In front of me were two girls who had passed me the lap before, but I was gaining on them, gaining and pulling right behind them, just a little bit farther and I would be finished with my miles, able to stop and gain my breath when --

They stopped running and fell into a walk without a glance behind themselves or a single thought of the fact that other people might be running on the track.

I gave out an inarticulate "ahhh!" and they turned so I was able to dash around them to exactly where I was planning on stopping. I swung around on the rail to catch sight of the clock for my time and then retreated off the track to remember how to breathe.

To be fair, there were other people on the track right near us, and, in fact, these other girls were running in the inside lane, thereby taking away the angle for the outside lane girls to transition before they slowed down. So, both the inside lane runners and the outside lane walkers were equally to blame.

Despite all that, it sure beats running outside.

Nothing Like a Deadline...

I think I may have been coddling myself when it comes to running. See, I read somewhere that it's important to do some warm up laps and start nice and easy and slow, so I was doing that. I would start out at a pace that got me an eleventh of a mile in about 90 seconds. This pace would get me a mile in about 16 and a half minutes if I stuck with it that long, but I normally don't. I speed up, generally to the leisurely pace of a 12 minute mile, and I'll sometimes push in the last set of eleven laps to get under 11 minutes. 

I've wanted to get faster. The other day at a health fair, I spoke to a personal trainer about how to get faster, and he emphasized proper bio-mechanics as the key to speed, explaining how his girlfriend, who, he emphasized, had never run before, went from a 32 minute 5K to a 24 minute 5K just by working on bio-mechanics. I was skeptical, and never did ask if she had been otherwise athletic, but I suspect she was. Still, I tried incorporating his tips. I dorsi-flexed my ankles and tried to lift my knees to push my body off instead of pulling it.

 

Nothing happened. (Okay, I did think for a while that I'd run a mile in closer to 9 minutes than 10, but then I figured out that I'd only counted ten laps instead of eleven for that time.)

I was still running in my sweet spot of 11 to 12 minute miles. I figured I would just need to take time to get used to the new way of moving, and the speed would come. 

Last night, I worked on a paper until about 7pm and then headed to the gym. I didn't know it was closing at 8pm until I was just getting ready to head upstairs to the track and an announcement came over the PA system to inform gym patrons that they would be closing in thirty minutes. 

I hurried upstairs after that and had a choice to make. I could go at my normal pace and probably finish before the gym closed, if only just barely, or I could go for it and try to get 11 minute miles and be done in 22 minutes. 

I went for it. 

My warm up lap was faster than an eleven minute mile pace, and I felt good. I felt like I was flying on the track, not so much pounding my steps as bouncing. I wasn't sure how I was doing it really, but I was, so I decided to go for a bigger goal and try to be done in a mere 20 minutes. 

2 miles in 20 minutes isn't great, I know. It's a pace my brother-in-law would scoff at, a pace that would set no records and just barely make a qualifying time on a Navy fitness test (the one that requires 1.5 miles in 15 minutes, max). But it's a faster pace than I have run since 2011, and I wanted it. I wanted that benchmark, to prove to myself that I could improve my time and run faster. 

I wanted it, and I almost got it. 

The first mile came in at 7 seconds over 10 minutes, and I was still feeling good. My body wasn't protesting the extra speed, and my legs felt light. 

About half a mile later, it started getting hard. I'd been breathing hard from the beginning, but as I pushed harder to get that final mile under 10 minutes, my lungs began to complain. When I push myself past where I'm comfortable aerobically, I tend to get a little scared. It hurts to keep trying to breathe to keep up with the demands of my muscles, and I have had a tendency to consider it a bad pain and quit. But if there's one thing I learned from TurboKick, it's that I can push myself harder than I think. 

The last three laps felt like torture. I promised myself that I just had to keep pace, I didn't have to go faster, just keep pace, keep going. I knew that once I stopped, starting would not be easy, so I held my fear and panic in check and forced my way to the last lap.

I like to pretend I'm ringing a bell as the last lap starts, my own personal bell lap. But I didn't have the energy to spare this time as I tried to speed through the final lap as fast as I could, huffing and puffing and scared and amazed. 

It's typical for me to have a lot left in the tank, so to speak, on my last lap. Not this time. After pushing myself for 21 laps, I found it hard to go even a little bit faster on that last lap. I wanted it, I could almost taste it, but what I had left wasn't enough. 

I couldn't quite get in under 20 minutes. 

20 minutes and 5 seconds is my new time to beat. 

And I wouldn't have done it if the gym hadn't been closing. 

Maybe I should go there late more often.

No Rest for the Wicked

Last week I was feeling under the weather (and the weather itself has been getting worse, cold and wet). I'd been doing well with my running, so skipping a day or two wouldn't hurt was my rationale on Monday.

Tuesday I have class in the evening, so no running. 

Wednesday, I stayed home sick from work, definitely no running. Thursday, it was all I could do to drag myself through work and Friday is a standard rest day for Ambrose and I so it was Saturday before I ran again.

I could feel my right hip getting stiff by Thursday, but I thought once I started running it would smooth out.

It didn't.

For the first time in months, I felt the ITB pain flaring up. My right hip had gotten all scrunched again and I could feel my steps pulling my body out of alignment and into pain.

But even if I haven't gotten past this issue, I have at least learned how to deal with it. I didn't stop running until I'd run the two miles that was my plan for Saturday. And although I didn't time it, I started faster than I normally do, which was probably not the best idea when I knew I was feeling stiff. But I didn't want Ambrose to beat me, and he'd had a head start!

The first thing that I started adopting from Chi-running was the pelvic tilt. It involves rotating the pelvis forward so it is more level, as if the pelvis were a vessel trying to hold water. I actually encountered this concept way back in college when I took belly dancing classes in Santa Fe, only they called it "holding your basket." And I didn't get it at the time (though it would have been nice if I had).

That technique has been my foundation for addressing the ITB issue, and it's the one I have to focus on the most as I run. It hurts for my right hip to be stretched like that, but it isn't a bad pain. It's the pain of a sore muscle being worked back into shape. I worked for years to make a habit of the way I hold my hips while running, and, like Ambrose always says, it's going to take me a long time to break a habit it took me a long time to make.

But I didn't expect it to regress so quickly. I've been trying to be conscious of what I might be doing when I'm not running to make my right hip so much more stiff than my left, and I've been watching my walking gait. I think sitting at a desk all work day doesn't help either of my hips, and maybe it affects the right more since it is already messed up. But for now, I'm going to stick to a strict diet of running at least twice a week, spread out over the week. Experiencing that backslide tightness is not pleasant, but it is a good reminder that I am still rehabilitating my body from the bad habits I started with.

I'll worry about whether or not I'm causing this stiffness through other habits, like how I walk, sit or sleep, when I can string together a few sub-ten minute miles.

Baby steps. I ran three miles Sunday and three miles Monday. The leg still hurts, but I can feel it improving and loosening.

I hate baby steps.

Stay on the Trail

Back in my entry on the trip that Ambrose and I took to Stump Lake, I mentioned that I was intending to write a blog entry about trail markers. I haven't done that, and I won't be doing it. Instead, I made an e-book out of it and self-published it through Amazon. It normally costs 99 cents, but will be free tomorrow and Friday (11/14 and 11/15).

Stay on the Trail by Jeanne Bustamante

If you don't have an e-reader, but want to check it out, you can download it and also download an Amazon Kindle app for PC or Mac for free in order to view it. It's actually easier to see the pictures if you use an app on the computer instead of using a Kindle reading device, or so my reviewers state. One of them anyway.

I have plans to do some updates to the short book, but if you download it now, you can download updates for free later, so go on, download it! It might help you stay on the trail.

Although, I must confess, I wrote this the weekend before I went on my solo hike and promptly got myself lost... The book can't guarantee that you stay on the trail, you still have to use common sense.

Running

The other night, in the pre-class chatter, I overhead the instructor talking about running. Specifically, that it doesn't ever get any easier. It always makes her body sore. I was glad to hear words about running that confirmed my own experiences. When I started running, it was hard, and now that I've re-started, in some ways it's even harder.

I had a dream last night in which I was speaking with this slim, athletic, blonde young woman about running. I told her that I had to focus on my form while I ran. She waved off my concerns about form and insisted I should just run naturally, that my body would figure out the right way to do things. Then I explained that I'd already tried that method and it got me two years of running in pain, followed by two years of figuring out why it hurt my knees so much to run.

I may as well have been talking to an attitude out of my past, though I have never been slim, athletic or blonde. Before I began to run seriously in 2009, I did some research, including asking my husband questions since he had run when he was young. And while, there were options for running systems, including the Chi-Running that I'm trying now, I ended up going with the school of "you're body already knows how to run." And I did run a half marathon by following that school, but I never was able to run for more than fifteen minutes without the ITB pain flaring up. And I've never been able to get fast.

In the early days of my running, I subscribed to a magazine, Runners World. I thought it would provide helpful tips and ideas and for a while, I enjoyed reading it. But then, the regular feature about a newbie runner had an article about his first time timing his run. And this so-called newbie was running 7 minute miles without even trying.

I could run a single 8 minute mile if I was ready to collapse immediately after (back in 2010 - I'm still not back there yet after addressing my issues). My fastest 5K was about 29 and a half minutes, or an average of over 9 minutes per mile. And this guy - this guy I'm supposed to relate to as a fellow newbie - was running 7 minute miles and he didn't even realize it until he got his magical little stopwatch?

There were other factors that contributed to my letting the subscription lapse, but that was definitely one of them. I had had doubts from the beginning about whether that magazine was for me, and that, along with my increasingly painful knee issues with running, confirmed them. It wasn't for me. Their world of runners was not one in which I could find a place.

Everyone's path is different, and I guess the path I'm on doesn't have enough people to sell a magazine to. Although I'm enjoying trying to do the Chi-Running, there are no instructors of the technique within a few hundred miles of Boise, so my husband and I are working on it with only each other for feedback and the DVD from the library for visual reference. Supposedly, in the end, running will not be painful anymore, but instead be meditative and refreshing for the body and the mind.

Not so much right now. I'm avoiding the ITB issue, which is fantastic, but I still get sore, and out of breath and it is hard on my mind. I can't just think about anything while I'm running at this point. I have to focus on keeping my right hip elongated, my feet pointing forward, my lower abs tight, and don't forget to keep breathing and speed and time and not running into people who can't read the signs that the inside lane is for walking, not the outside one, can't they read? Lately, my shoulders have been getting tight, so I've added a lap of loose arms every fifteen minutes in my runs. It makes me feel like a doofus, running around the track with my arms swinging limply, but it has been making my shoulders feel less like they've been trying to attack my ears.

A common simile for multi-tasking is juggling, but I don't juggle, so I can't be certain that it's accurate. For me, right now, running requires me to pay attention to multiple facets of my body's functioning, forcing myself to break old, bad habits and avoid making new, bad habits. As soon as one part gets easier and more natural, there's something else to add in. I still want to be able to run faster, but my fastest mile since my reboot hasn't even broken the ten minute mark. It's like driving stick-shift in traffic, paying attention to the world around you while making mechanical adjustments for speed and direction and also keeping in mind your destination. It's involved (or it should be), and subject to the same perils of distraction.

Running is hard on my body, hard on my brain and a trial for my patience (why can't I be faster now?).

But I still love it, and I'm glad to be back on the track... even if I do get passed by everyone else running on it (even my husband, now and then - but only if he's doing a sprint lap and I'm in the middle of a long run, and I do always catch him back, I swear).

Testing the ITB

On Sunday Ambrose and I went for a run, on what seems to have been the last nice day that Boise will see for a while, unless you happen to like cold rain and freezing temperatures. I have actually run in the snow, and I've enjoyed it, but Ambrose is less than inclined to take to the streets when he could run in a nice warm gym. Relatively warm. They actually keep it pretty cool to prevent everyone from overheating.

So we did 5 miles on the greenbelt. I started off slowly, warming up, letting Ambrose build a little lead while I made myself go nice and slow to warm up. It might not be necessary, but it's how I've learned to compensate for the issues with my gait. I have to be in control of what I'm doing, and that means starting off slow.

I still passed him in less than a mile.

And I was still paranoid about the last time I ran oh-so-confidently on the greenbelt. I ran all the way up to table rock, and had to walk ignominiously back down because I'd tweaked my ITB issue and couldn't fix it, no matter how hard I tried. That day Ambrose beat me home, and I almost couldn't stand his understandable gloating.

Running on the pavement is different than running on the track at the gym. The gym track is softer, and has an advantage - if you need to stop, the exits are never more than a fraction of an eleventh of a mile away. When you run outside, you have to finish your route, or turn around, to get to a place where you can stop. I think it's mostly my imagination that makes me feel more prone to injury on the pavement, but I could feel the pain starting to tick up in my right knee after about two miles.

I adjusted my stride, and almost had a meltdown when it didn't change anything right away. Fortunately, a couple of minutes later the adjustment helped and the pain faded.

I kept running.

The path that we took began on pavement, transitioned to sidewalk and then to a rock path before ending on pavement again. Just as I was getting used to running on the paved area, I had to switch not only to sidewalk, but to uphill sidewalk, crossing the bridge over the river. Then came the rocks. Ambrose had recently run this path, and told me about how much the rocks hurt his feet. He wants to toughen them up. I was ready for the rocks in my head, but my feet are not at all tough right now. It was as if I could feel every rock, and I had more than two miles to go.

The rocks, and the people walking along the rocky path knocked me out of the correct stride a few times, leading to more pain. When I was running without the knee pain, I would try to run faster so that I could be done sooner. This led to different pain. Those pesky lungs sure love to have oxygen, and when they want more than I'm giving them, it hurts. I used to think of this as bad pain, meaning I should stop. I've since come to recognize it as constructive pain. If I don't push my lung capacity now and then, it will never grow.

By the time I got off of the rock path, I had had to recheck my posture and stride several times, but each time I was able to fix what was going wrong and continue running. I knew I had only about a half mile to go, but I wanted so badly just to stop and sit down on the path and cry. I was hurting, pushing myself in speed and distance, aching and nauseous. I thought if I stopped, I would puke. I didn't want to puke. I kept going, pushing as hard as I dared to get done.

I made it to where we had started and stumbled to a halt. I paused my music player, thinking I could use it as a timer, since I hadn't brought a watch. I remembered which song I had started on, so I should be able to calculate my time by going back through the tracks played and adding up the times. Then I sat on the curb and fought not to puke. I drank my electrolyte laced water from the hydration bladder I was carrying on my back. I stretched a little bit  and tried to muster the energy to stand up and get home, a ten minute walk at an easy pace.

I couldn't manage an easy pace. My pace was more like a shambling zombie speed - not like those fast new zombies. I did some lunges on the way home, which probably slowed me down further, but I've found that walking lunges are part of my running routine. If I skip them, my right hip feels tight later, and I'm prone to feel the ITB pain creep back going down stairs.

I made it home and somehow managed to get started on my music time project. I hadn't been home more than ten minutes when Ambrose arrived. He was excited that I hadn't beaten him home by much, until I told him I spent a lot of time sitting on the sidewalk after I finished my run.

I ended up with a time of 62:08 for a 5.02 mile run. On average, 12:22 minute miles, which is not bad for me right now. I know I can go faster, but I need to work up to it. This whole rehabilitation of my gait has taken time to show the results that it has, and I know speed will come as I get the re-aligned gait to be the default mode for my running.

Overall, my ITB passed this test. It tried to tweak out, but was receptive to my corrections in gait. I'm trying to run five days a week now, to prepare for a 5K in March. Ideally, I'd like to run the 5K in under 21 minutes. Realistically, my goal is to finish in less than 30 minutes. I've never run a mile faster than 8 minutes, let alone the under 7's I would need for that ideal goal. Then again, for a long time, my running was focused on just doing it. Last year I wasn't running at all because of this ITB issue. Now that I'm on the right track with my gait, maybe that goal isn't as out of reach as I think it is.

The Limits of My Winter Bike Commute

I'm the kind of driver who insists on seat belts. The kind of driver who gets paranoid about going over the speed limit. The kind of driver who signals lane changes and turns and (mostly) stops when the light has turned yellow.

Okay, let me qualify that. I do these things in Idaho, because even after seven years of living here, I don't feel like a resident. This is not my traffic comfort zone. Give me Chicago and its suburbs, and I'll dance close to ten miles per hour over the street limits and push fifteen to twenty over the highway limits - more if it keeps me with the flow of traffic. I'll gun through yellow lights, especially downtown where not to do so could result in less than pleasant confrontations with fellow drivers. Drivers in Chicago are crazy, but it's a crazy I grew up with and learned to accommodate.

Drivers in Idaho are an entirely different sack of potatoes.

Take winter driving. Believe it or not, it snows here on a regular basis. You wouldn't know it by the way drivers react to the first (and second, and third) snowfall of the winter. I'll admit it's not as bad as Santa Fe. There, they see a good amount of snow every year, and every year the drivers retreat to a snail-like mentality, treating their cars as if they were never designed with snow in mind. In Idaho, people just drive as if there were no snow on the road. Unfortunately, seeing as there is, in fact, snow on the road, this does not produce the desired results.

Along with being too cheap to invest in snow tires for my bike, that's the reason I won't ride my bike when it snows, especially now that my entire route is on streets instead of mostly on a bike path. Bad enough that I fear for my life every time I approach the Broadway and Beacon intersection, because turn signals are apparently optional in Idaho, but to add the factor of less control not only for my own vehicle, but for every other vehicle on the road? No, thank you.

I'll brave the cold on my bicycle. After all, I can prepare for that with ever increasing layers, and it doesn't take that long for me to ride to work. I'll brave the traffic that doesn't understand the importance of turn signals and seems to find my presence on the road an annoyance at best. But I will not brave snowy streets on my bicycle.

At least, not with the way cars are driven in Boise.

The 5 Stages of Cold Weather Bike Commuting

Stage 1: Preparation
You're smart. You know that layers are the way to go here. Normal pants and shoes will do for now, just keep that core warm. Fleece vest, windbreaker, mesh armor jacket, check. Close-fitting balaclava to go under the helmet, scarf to protect the face, helmet, check. Gloves, check. Headlamp over the helmet to combat the early morning darkness and remind cars that you're on the road, check. Time to step out of the now-sweltering heat of the house and find out that...

Stage 2: Gosh, It's Cold
The beginnings the worst part, you think. It will get better once you're moving.
Right.
Better.
The faster you pedal, the harder the wind whips across your exposed flesh. Your legs feel frozen in seconds, and your feet are a lost cause. You ignore them and keep pedaling. You know that it won't take too long to reach...

Stage 3: Acclimatization
See, just because the wind feels like it's going to freeze your eyeballs doesn't mean that you can't persevere. The exercise has heated up your core, and you can't feel your legs or feet anyway, so who cares, as long as you can keep ... moving ... crap. That stoplight, you can never get through that stoplight cleanly, it always makes you wait for it, all the while terrified that some car's going to come up from behind you and make a right turn in front of you, like they do. But then the light unleashes you, and you stand on the pedals and pump it for the next four blocks until you find yourself...

Stage 4: Overheating
Even though your feet, legs and face feel like chunks of ice, your torso has been covered in so many layers of insulation that you find yourself sweating. You're torn between continuing the hustle, and possibly making yourself so sweaty that you'll stink all day at work, and going more slowly, which will prolong reaching the best part of the journey...

Stage 5: Thawing
You've made it to the office. After peeling off all of those layers, you fix yourself a cup of hot tea, and tuck your legs under your desk with the heater turned up full blast. You've earned it.

The Long Break-up with ITBS

I started running in 2009. I didn't know how to run, and I wasn't very good at it, but I didn't let that stop me like I had let it stop me all the way through school. I used to hate the annual running of the mile in gradeschool, and it delighted me when I learned I was only required to take two semesters of gym in high school. I had some forays into athleticism in college, but they never lasted. So I was happy to be a runner for the first time in my life, until my right knee started giving me issues.

At first, I thought it must be my shoes. They were worn out, or the wrong type for my feet, or maybe I was wearing the wrong socks. I tried running more carefully, more slowly, but around 20 minutes, the knee would begin to hurt. I ran through it. For several months, I ran through the pain, hoping that it would go away, but not really doing anything about it. I ran a half marathon through it, before deciding to try something else, despite my fears that if I stopped running I would never start again.

I took a break. My husband and I thought that maybe if I just stopped running for a while and let my body heal, then it would take care of itself. For a while, it seemed to work. This was in the fall, and in the spring I went ahead and ran a 5K. I puked from dehydration, but my leg didn't bother me too much. Still, I kept on resting, refraining from the run even as I craved it.

I got it into my head that massage would help, so I got a doctor's appointment and got myself prescribed some medical massage for the issue. I was also recommended to an athletic trainer for exercises. I began to wake up early almost every morning to do rehab exercises, strengthening my hips and glutes. Then the ilio-tibial band began to bug me on hikes.

This was an issue.

My husband and I had planned to go to California and hike a small portion of the Pacific Crest Trail together. There was no way I wanted to miss that hike.

I went back to the athletic trainer and got a revised set of exercises. I got a serious knee brace, since that helped me out on the vicious down hill hikes that killed my knee. I exercised, and I worked through the pain. I did that hike, albeit with the help of the knee brace. But the pain didn't stop.

I trained on the elliptical machine, which would theoretically allow me to strengthen the muscles that support the knee without stressing it. I diligently worked up to thirty minutes on the elliptical, and then went on to the treadmill where I didn't last five minutes before the pain was back.

I despaired.

My husband had recently bought a pair of FiveFingers, and we decided that I should give them a try too. I bought a book called ChiRunning, which suggested a variety of form techniques for running. I began to find that focusing on the pelvic tilt made my stride feel more comfortable, not just while running but while walking as well. But the most important thing it suggested was the cultivation of body-awareness.

I resisted that idea at first. It was hard for me to figure out what I was doing wrong. It took months to go from reading the book last fall, to Ambrose pointing out how the wear pattern on my shoes indicated my right second toe stuck up when I walked, to my accepting that he was right about the toe. Then I had to figure out how to fix my toe issue, which was not as simple as I felt like it should have been. He told me about that back in the spring, and I'm only now figuring out how it affected my gait.

On my last hike of the season, over Labor day, I carried a heavier pack than I had all summer. That pack caused my right hip to ache, but not my left. And I could feel my knee begin to hurt as my body compensated for the pain in my hip. I finally realized that there was something I was doing that made my right hip tight, which caused the ITB to act up.

So I went to the internet and found that doing lunges while holding a light weight overhead would help stretch out and strengthen the hips. I started doing lunges, here and there during the day, and a set of 20 to 24 forward and backward lunges around the track when I worked out. I tried using the foam roller again, and after that I had a breakthrough. I realized that I was not completing my stride when I walked.

I would take a step with my left foot, and as I moved forward, my right foot would not make contact with the ground. I pulled it up before it could complete the motion. This was where the toe popping up had come from. With every step, walking or running, I was shortening my stride, shortening my hip, leading to the pain in the knee that I've gotten to know so well over the past two years.

I'm correcting my stride. I finally feel like I'm making real progress, not by any single technique, but mostly by that focus on body awareness. I'm paying attention to what happens when I place my feet in specific ways, when I hold my pelvis in a way that elongates my hips. I spent years looking outside myself for answers when all I had to do was look inside and pay attention.

The Off Season Begins

For this year, our backpacking season ended with my solo hike over Labor day. We might be driving out to discover the road to new routes over the next month or so before the snows start, but for the most part we are firmly into the off season.

In previous years, that would mean a month or so of taking it easy, going to the gym maybe once a week, maybe less, eating as much as we had in the intense months of backpacking and generally lazing around.

Not this year.

Ambrose and I have both gained fitness over the last year, and we intend to keep our momentum going through the off season right into next summer. The difference that regular workouts made to our backpacking performance this year was incredible. We went from struggling to do six miles to being able to do ten miles (even if it was by accident). We were a lot stronger this summer than last, and we both want to continue that trend.

So our off season has begun with several fitness goals - running, weights and variety.

We are each trying to run four to five times a week. For now, the length of time isn't huge. I'm making sure that I learn to run with good mechanics this time to prevent injury, and Ambrose, well, he's old, so we're both starting out slow and easy with fifteen minute runs.

Ambrose does weights twice during the week, and I do it once. We both do weights on Saturday mornings. Our weights routine uses the cable cross machine at the gym, but we might start working in free weights to challenge ourselves.

But the big workout is Sunday.

On Sunday we do a kind of pseudo-triathlon. I haven't decided what it should be called yet, other than hard. We swim for fifteen minutes, change, stationary bike for fifteen minutes, and then run for fifteen minutes. After the run, I take a ten pound plate and hold it above my head for one lap around the track while I do twenty forward walking lunges and twenty backward walking lunges (I'm trying to get Ambrose to join me, but no luck so far). Then we go melt in the hot tub for a while. Oh, and this is after we've ridden our bikes to the gym, and before we have to ride them home. So it's more like bike, swim, bike, run, lunges, hot tub and bike. Crazy-athlon? Multi-athlon? Haven't-puked-yet-but-getting-close-athlon?

This Saturday, when we lifted weights and then ran, I lapped Ambrose three times, and now that's my goal whenever we run together on the track. I also recorded a mile time of 11:25, by counting my time for eleven laps, after running two laps as warm up. (Yes, the track requires eleven laps for one mile, no, I don't know why anyone ever thought that was a good idea.) Today, after I swam and Ambrose didn't (he cut his finger, and we didn't want him to be bleeding into the pool), and we both biked, I lapped him three times and recorded a mile time of 10:32. On the last lapping, he tried to pass me back. I could hear his footsteps quickening behind me, but I pushed and dug and didn't see him come in front of me.

The competition is good for both of us. We push each other to go faster, try harder and dig deeper, even if I've got the advantage of youth over him and he the advantage of trickery on me.

As the deep bruise from my bike accident fades from my knee, we'll be adding time to the run, slowly, carefully, to try and prevent injuries and build a sustainable model for running distances. We'll also add time to the swim and bike portions of our Sunday workout. We're going into this off season with a plan, and a passion. It isn't going to be easy, but we wouldn't be backpacking if we wanted easy.

Tale of the Trail: Stump Hike Solo

Friday, August 30th
Ambrose and I drove up to the Gold Fork area, near Donnelly, ID, and parked at a place that we call the Dogsnout, because that's what the road looks like on a map. Across from the trailhead I would be starting down the next day was a hunting camp that no one else ever seemed to use during the summer. We pitched the car camping tent (roomy, but too heavy for backpacking) in the dark and got ready to sleep.

That's when Ambrose realized he had forgotten to bring a cooking pot.

I had a cooking pot, but I couldn't let him have it. Usually we camp together, but this weekend was going to be my solo hike. I needed the pot that I brought. The compromise was that he got the top of my pot, which doubles as a skillet, so he could boil water for his food, and he would cut me a "top" for my pot out of a foil pouch from a freeze dried meal.

I was just grateful that Ambrose had forgotten an item vital enough to overshadow my forgetting my head lamp on our last trip. His mistake was the bigger one, so mine will be forgotten - that's a true friend. Not that I haven't forgotten a cooking pot before. In fact, when I did it last summer, we aborted the whole trip and drove home. I think we're both learning (or in his case, re-learning) how to adapt to unforeseen circumstances and mistakes so that they won't ruin our trips.

I fell asleep more easily than I had expected to, what with the butterflies dancing in my stomach. Last year's solo trip was much shorter, only about 5 miles round trip, and to a much more populated destination. Not only was the trail to Skillern Hot Springs ridiculously easy to stay on, close enough to the car to bail, and familiar to me, but I ended up sharing the campsite with two other people and two dogs (aka bear bait).

The chances of running into other people on this trail would be much slimmer, and would be quite a shock, considering we had never run into any other hikers on this trail in four summers. Though the trail showed clear signs of maintenance, we had only ever seen people on the section open to motorcycles, and those people were on motorcycles, not hiking.

Saturday August 31st
The alarm woke me at 6am, and I tried not to be too grumpy as I woke up and packed. Ambrose prepared coffee for us, using my pot, and cut me a pot cover before handing the cook kit back to me. I repacked my pack. We ate Mexican food leftover from dinner for breakfast, food that was part of our last hurrah before going back to low carb and low fat once the backpacking season was finished.

Then it was time to go.

Hiking solo is something that I want to do. I want to try myself, and discover whether longer hikes are something I might want to consider. While it would be wonderful to do those long hikes with Ambrose, at this point, we are exploring the idea of me doing the hikes and him being my support crew. So I need to get used to being alone on the trail, and feel confident that I can take care of myself.

Last year's solo hike was a taste, and a test, and I found that I wanted more.

This year is about pushing my limits, on a trail less traveled. My first thru-hike, connecting trails that we haven't done together. It's exciting.

And yet, I almost cry to leave Ambrose behind.

The trailhead that marked the start of my solo journey.

I pushed down the tears and began to walk, more quickly than I would have if he had been with me, but not so fast as to overexert myself. I knew I was in for a long day with my goal of reaching Stump Lake. Our previous excursions on this trail had not been short, or easy, and I was now carrying a load about 10lbs heavier than anything I'd done all summer.

I never thought of Ambrose and I as being particularly loud hikers until I came across a bird on the trail less than a mile from the trailhead. We almost never saw wildlife together on the trail, whether we were talking or not. I guess it made sense that two people were louder than one, but I still wished that he was there to share it with me.

It was still pretty dark out as I started - I almost missed this bird in my path.

We had traveled this section of trail enough times to give names to its sections. There were four main stream crossings, an interminable hill, and a burned out area before we take the turn onto the trail that does not allow motor vehicles. We always ate lunch soon after that turn, because we always got there around noon.

I passed the four creeks in record time and made my way up the hill, in a mere fifteen minutes - but I still sang to myself, "This is the hill that never ends. It just goes on and on my friends. Some people started climbing it not knowing what it was; now they'll continue climbing it for ever just because this is the hill that never ends..."

First stream crossing: Bridged Creek

Second Stream Crossing: Nail Creek

Third Stream Crossing: Forgotten Creek

Fourth Stream Crossing: Shit Creek (yeah, there's a story to that)

Most years we have had to cross that last creek by using the two logs as a make-shift bridge, but this year, with my waterproofed boots, I walked through the low water instead. Some years, this creek has been high enough that I would be waist deep if I tried to ford it, but this year has been very dry after a dry winter, so I lucked out. 

The evil hill, going up to the left and down to the right. 

I didn't find myself thinking very much as I walked. I had some personal time goals, but I had no idea if I would be able to make any of them. I remembered, as I passed, places where we had stopped before. I remembered going up the evil hill for the first time and Ambrose walking away from me. At the time, I felt like I couldn't go a step farther and I was aghast that this old man was doing better than I was (only after eating was I able to continue). 

That first year we stopped here for a break. Ambrose went down the hill to get water and I collapsed. This year, I breezed right on by. 

I caught up to the sun before 9am, and, not long after, I made my way to the trail junction. 

Trail Junction 115

Compared to the first time I saw this area of the trail, it was lush and green. That first summer, there was almost nothing growing in among the tree skeletons. It still wasn't a fully recovered area, but the improvement was amazing. I took a break at what we called the fire camp where we always had lunch - only a break, because I had been hiking for a mere two hours at that point, and it was way too early for lunch.

Cut logs to sit on at the fire camp. 

I did stop to dig a hole and admire the view. It ended up being nearly a half hour break, and I planned to stop next at 10:45am for my next break.

Nicest view from a toilet (a.k.a. hole), ever. 

I walked on with a steady, quiet pace, stopping often to take pictures. I had gotten an idea into my head of making a book with pictures of as much of the trail as I could record and writing in captions for my mom. Even if she makes it out to Idaho someday, she'll never get to see the trails that I'm hiking, because they aren't wheelchair accessible. I focused on that, instead of on the nervous energy in the back of my mind that was trying to remind me just how alone I was.

I hiked through the gravel of burned out and partially burned out areas, and almost missed a spot that I wanted to photograph for Ambrose. We had almost gotten lost there on our first trip, because it was a hill of gravel with no clear indication where the trail went. It could have gone around the hill, but what it really did was go straight up. This year, I was halfway up before I realized I had found it. It no longer resembled a bare patch of gravel, instead being full of growth and clear trail marks.

The cut log and the buried log clearly pointed the way up the trail. 

The boggy area before the return to live woods was hardly damp this year, but the water was plentiful enough to foster growth, if not to dampen my boots.

The first year we were out here, we had to climb over that log - not easy when you're 5'3". 

The trail went by quickly. I knew that part of it was due to my being in better shape than in previous years, but I couldn't ignore the factor of not having Ambrose with me. I have proven myself to be faster than him, even as we both gain fitness, and, especially on the uphill sections, I reveled in not having to wait for him to catch up. Even though I didn't want to push my pace too hard, I knew I was going faster and stopping less. Well, maybe I didn't stop less, considering I managed to take over 800 pictures in two days, but I took less time in my stops.

I had the camera case fastened by a cord to the front of my backpack strap. All I needed to do was pull it out, turn it on, snap the picture and shove the camera back in the case. I hardly needed to stop until I was actually taking the picture. Some of the shots turned out blurrier than I expected, but I still have a ton of usable ones, if I end up putting them together in a book or photo book for my mom.

At 10:45am I took a break, just before entering the woods. I hardly took my pack off for it. I wanted to reach our lakes by lunch time. Ambrose said I should have lunch at the lakes - a part of me agreed, another part thought I wouldn't make it that far in time, and another part scoffed that I'd make Stump Lake by lunch. I only voiced the opinion of agreement with Ambrose aloud.

The border between the burned and the living forest.

My pack this summer on other trips weighed close to 30 pounds, but on this trip, I was close to 40 pounds, since I had to be completely self-sufficient. Next time I do a solo hike, I hope to have a much lighter, single-person tent, instead of the two person tent I took this year. I also decided that I might need to get a lighter weight pack with a bit less capacity in order to cut down on my weight, but my body did handle the haul. I just had to be careful and stretch my right hip to keep my pain from stopping my journey.

It was easy not to get lost in the forest, because I knew what to look out for, and knew the trail well enough to keep focused on it. Before too long, I passed the spot where we camped that first trip. It wouldn't work anymore, now that the tree we had our tent snugged against has grown to take over the space.

I don't know how we managed to fit our tent there!

I continued to make good time, even with all the photographs, and made it to our lakes by lunch time. I stopped for lunch by the only flowing stream we had seen on our last trip up here a few weeks prior. There were the lakes for water, but I would have had to unpack the cook pot to fill my water bags well. Instead, I took in the scenery with the sound of flowing water trickling by my ear.

I took a video, but it wouldn't upload. 

I ate a berry bagel and some peanut butter mixed with crystallized honey, which formed a kind of make-shift fudge when blended. Looking back, I don't think I drank enough water, and that's what I'll blame for what happened next.

I started out following the trail up a steep slope past our lakes, no issues there.

Going up!

Then I reached the spot, where, just a few weeks ago, I had gotten "lost" and Ambrose had had to find the trail for me again. I even marveled, as I walked on, that I didn't recognize this tree growing out a rock, though I found it very striking.

Tree versus rock - who wins?

At this point, I should have turned back until I was sure that I was on the trail again. That's the sensible thing to do, the reasonable thing to do. Instead, I did the manly thing and kept on walking. I figured that I could gain some elevation and then turn back and cut across the trail. No problem!

I kept going across country for some time, feeling overheated and a little scared to be off trail and alone. Then I had to dig a hole, and when I turned around, I discovered that I wasn't really anywhere near where I thought I was.

A close-up view that I shouldn't have been looking at. 

So, faced with the choices of go on and try to find my trail, or backtrack and try to find my trail, I chose the sensible route and began to backtrack, trying to find the trail when I cut across it, as I should have. But somehow, I didn't find it, even though I had to have cut across it on my way, since I ended up right back at our lakes.

I guess I couldn't get away without visiting our lakes, even though I tried. 

I spent one hour lost, by myself, knowing that if anything went wrong, there would be no one to help me, and no one would know exactly where I was. But I wasn't thinking about those things at the time. I was thinking about how adventurous I felt to allow myself to get lost and try to find my way back. I was thinking about how I'd jinxed myself by not filling up my quart water bag again. About how my right hip was protesting under the weight of my pack and about how to keep it from starting to hurt enough to impact my trip.

I got myself lost, and I got myself found, all by myself, with no help, facing the possibility of wild animals and injuries and cliffs. I'm certainly chagrined that I got lost, but I don't regret that it happened. It allowed me the opportunity to find my way back, and to know that I can do that.

When I found myself at our lakes, I didn't stop again until I got safely past the point in the trail where I had stepped off of it, and by then I needed to dig another hole. I took my pack off and found a spot with my trowel. I began to dig, and soon hit some rocks or roots that were hard. I worked at the hard spot and was rewarded with a crack as my plastic trowel broke into two pieces.

Ambrose has been using a snow stake instead of a trowel to dig holes this summer. It saves weight, and is less prone to breakage than the trowel he has that is the twin of mine. But Ambrose and his snow stake weren't there.

I continued to dig, using the intact scoop to make a wide and deep hole, and using the pointy part still attached to the handle to soften the dirt with satisfying stabbing motions. I made it work. I didn't have a choice but to make it work. I finished my business and went on, keeping the scoop in my toilet paper bag and fastening the handle back in its place on the outside of my pack.

I went on.

The last steep climb of the day. 

 As I hiked on, more slowly than before I got lost, with my right hip aching and threatening to activate a lurking ilio-tibial band pain, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was lost again. I felt like I didn't remember seeing a dry riverbed right next to the trail, even though I was following trail markers. I was hot, sweaty, achy and ready to stop. I thought about stopping, knowing there was water at the lakes I could retreat to, but I didn't think about it long.

And even though Ambrose told me he spent most of Saturday staring up the trail head to see if I was bailing out, I never thought seriously about doing that either. Not because I got temporarily lost, and certainly not because I found myself with a two piece trowel.

It was a sweet relief to gain the saddle near the Needles. The trail from there was mostly clear, and I should be less than an hour from Stump Lake and a much-needed rest.

There was only one spot that could cause trouble - the spot where we had gotten lost on the hunt for Stump Lake last year. We had successfully navigated it both ways on our last trip, but it was Ambrose's find going this direction, not mine. Then I ran into a little help.

Can you see it?

How about now?

I always like to get pictures of animals on the trail, so when I spotted this little guy, I whipped out the camera and started shooting. Because of the chipmunk, I stopped at just the right spot to find the next section of the trail, and kept going without getting lost again.

A view from the trail to Needles Summit. 

I finally made it to Needles Summit - I earned that selfie!

Once I made it to the Needles Summit, I had no more than ten minutes to walk, all downhill, to get to Stump Lake. I felt like kicking myself, because I could have made it an hour earlier without my getting lost detour, but it was all I could do to get my legs to keep moving. I felt every ounce of weight on my body with each step, especially on the balls of my feet and my right hip.

A downed tree to navigate around on the way to Stump Lake.

If I was going to encounter people anywhere on the trail, I figured it would be at Stump Lake. It had the most developed camping site near the most beautiful spot on the trail - how could no one else want to visit it over the Labor day weekend?

Stump Lake at last!

But no one else did. I had the place to myself.

The first thing I did upon arrival was to dump my pack by a tree and go lay myself down in the sun by the lake. For a few minutes, I experienced bliss. Off my feet, no weight on my back or hips, no need to go farther today.

Then I got up, because there was no one else to do what needed to be done. No one else to get the water while I did the tent. I was the only one on chore rotation. I filled my water bags, then begin letting my gravity filter fill my drinking bladder. I set up the tent, leaving the rain fly off so that I could enjoy the remaining warmth of the day. I set up my bear bag.

That took about an hour.

View from the tent number 1

View from the tent number 2

Then I lazed in my tent and began to read The Sound and the Fury. Around six, I realized I should probably make dinner, because there was no one else doing it. I made dinner, ate dinner, and read some more before falling asleep a little after 8pm - amazingly early for me.

I woke only once in the night, having to go outside to pee. It was the one time I felt really scared the whole trip. I had my head lamp on to the brightest setting, but I still couldn't see very far in the darkness. I might have set a world record for speed peeing.

I did pause, just before going back into my tent, and covered my light so I could look up at the clear sky encrusted with stars before retreating back inside.

Sunday September 1st
The alarm woke me up at 6am. I turned it off and let myself drift back to sleep, listening for animals passing by in the hopes of catching some deer getting an early morning drink. Without realizing it, I fell asleep, thinking I was still listening, and dreamed that I heard barking dogs.

I woke again close to 7, and decided I could stay awake. I spent the next hour or so reading, luxuriating in the warmth of my tent, and enjoying my rare solitude. I didn't have to answer to anyone else's schedule. Ambrose expected me at Kennally Creek campground before 5pm. It had taken us three hours to get down from Stump Lake last time we were there, so I could spend the whole morning doing nothing and still not have to worry about time.

Hunger dragged me out of the tent around 8. I took down my bear bag, and started by making coffee. I thought I made more than enough to fill my 14oz Nalgene bottle, but I somehow ended up pouring only 4oz of coffee into the bottle once I boiled the mix. I poured filtered water into the bottle to fill it up and set up my grits and freeze dried scrambled eggs to soak.

The bear bag hanging out.

I packed up while they soaked. Even though I wasn't worried about time, I wanted to see Ambrose. In motion, I could avoid thinking about how much I missed him, but in the silence and stillness of the camp, I came close to crying more than once.

After my breakfast was cooked, I had to make use of my two-piece trowel again before I could eat. I need to remember never to eat Mexican food before a backpacking trip ever again. Sure, it's tasty and full of carbs and proteins and fats, but it puts a strain on the trowel.

I ate, remembering how I had felt sick eating breakfast the last time we were at Stump Lake, but the sensation did not return. I finished and made ready to leave. By twenty til ten, I was ready to go.

Good morning, Stump Lake!

Goodbye, Stump Lake!

My body was sore, but my hip wasn't acting up yet, and I decided that I wanted to go as quickly as possible, so that if my hip did start hampering my stride I would be farther along the trail. If we had taken three hours together, then I should be able to improve on that by myself. I decided that instead of counting all the trees that had fallen across the trail, I would take pictures of all 125 of them.

I did debate not taking any pictures at all, so that I would go faster, but I ended up deciding to continue taking as many photos as I could on this last trip of the season.

Just one of many downed trees to detour around. 

It was weird to be going "back" to the car along a portion of the trail I had not already traveled. I've gained most of my backpacking experience doing out and back or lollipop type routes, mostly because we only have one car. This was my first true thru-hike, short though it may have been (we estimated the total mileage over two days to be close to 14 miles).

I found that I rather liked not having to retread any miles. Especially miles multiplied by having to detour around errant tree trunks.

These trees were step-overs. 

This tree was a step-over with care - those branches are just dying to snag my pants. 

This one was less step over and more step through - I think I still have some of those needles in my pack. 

There was no stepping over or through this mess. I detoured to the right and got my boots wet. 

Every step over a tree sapped energy from me. It isn't as easy as just stepping over a hurdle - when there's a pack on your back that weighs close to a third of what you do, lifting your legs (and boots that weigh nearly 2 pounds a piece) to waist height is draining on all the muscles that help keep you balanced. For every fallen tree, I had to slow down, decide on my route, and then either bushwhack it cross country or maneuver myself and my pack over branches that varied in height from ankle height to just hip height. Anything higher than that, I didn't attempt to go over.

"Only the penitent man shall pass." 

And there is one fallen tree that is situated in such a way that going around looks like more trouble than it's worth, and going over is out of the question. The last time we were up here, I managed to squat walk my way underneath it, but this time my pack was too heavy (or my legs too tired) to go that route. But I didn't want to go down on my knees, especially the right one, which was still bruised from my bike fall.

So I compromised.

I went down on my left knee and kept a low squat with my right, half crawling forward under the tree until I judged myself clear of the overhead branches and managed to haul myself to my feet with a Herculean effort, aided by my trekking poles and a loud grunt.

When we had reached this spot on the way back together, Ambrose and I had been one hour out of Stump Lake. When I reached it, I was only forty minutes out. I felt a surge of energy as I realized that I might be able to beat two hours.

I stepped over a few more trees, but then I saw something that at first didn't register. A cut log. Fresh wood shavings.

Those cuts look recent!

 After we had counted 125 trees on our way down, Ambrose contacted the forest service about them. He read that they generally left blow down on that trail in order to discourage motorcyclists from illegally using the trail, so I figured that they wouldn't be doing anything about his complaint.

Was I ever glad to be wrong!

I encountered only a few more blown down trees to navigate around, which let me go a lot faster. I reached the Blackmare No Trail sign at one hour from Stump Lake. I wasn't sure how many miles it was from the next trail junction, but I knew I could make it back to the campground in forty minutes once I reached it.

I could see all the way across Lake Cascade from the trail. 

Another bird on the trail.

Looking back at the Blackmare no trail sign. 

I started to push my pace. If I could just make it to the junction by 11am, I might make it under 2 hours total. And if I made it by 11:20, then I could at least get back before noon. I was racing to set a bar for myself, to push myself as hard as I could without injury or mishap. I thought of Anish and her record setting PCT hike. I want to hike the PCT someday, but today I was also racing to Ambrose, who carries with him my sense of home.

It seemed to take forever to get to the trail junction, but I kept taking pictures anyway, even though not taking them would have sped me up.

The trail was nice and clear!

But I had to slow down for rocky sections. 

Just two miles to the campground!

But there's more rocks. 

I reached the junction at exactly 11:20am, and I put it into high gear, after a quick break to slurp down some peanut butter and Nutella from a tube. I knew that I could do twenty minute miles if I pushed myself. There were points where I was tempted to run, but I didn't want to risk my hip tightening up so I just walked fast and focused.

I focused so hard that when I saw someone walking up the trail I gave a little gasping shriek. The teenage boy was wearing a day pack, and trailed by two younger boys, a young girl and what looked like their parents. I didn't linger or exchange more than a few hellos before leaving them behind. Soon after, I ran into three people and a dog, but I wasn't so shocked that time.

The junction!

 I reached the junction at 11:40am, right on schedule. Just twenty more minutes of hard pushing and I could make it before noon. I was hot, wishing I'd started earlier so the sun wouldn't be up yet, and thirsty even as I drank from my hydration bladder. I didn't want to take the time to stop and dig out food, not when I was so close.

The last bridge I had to cross. 

I reached the last bridge quickly from the junction and took a precious few seconds to take pictures of the up and down stream views. I hadn't gotten to take good pictures of this section of the trail yet, so I wanted to record it as much as possible. But that desire meant that I had to go even faster to make up for the picture stops.

I ran into two women riding horses, and leading two more, which gave me an unwanted but welcome rest as I stood off on the side of the trail. I knew better than to try to sidle close to unfamiliar horses. You never know when one of them will decide you look like an enemy that should be kicked or bitten.

Of course, there were more rocks. 

 I thought about Ambrose, waiting for me at the campground. I thought of the car and getting to sit down in it. Since we began backpacking together, I have gained so much. I would never have dreamed of spending the night by myself in the middle of nowhere before starting on this adventure. I'd camped more than ten feet from a car only once in the twenty-seven years before we began these adventures. And now, here I was, by myself, pushing myself, being completely self-sufficient and self-motivated.

I wanted to cry for pride.

But instead I kept going. Not stopping again until I reached the trail head and clicked off the stopwatch. 2 hours, 14 minutes and 31 seconds. A new record.

I saw Ambrose as I reached this spot, but he walked away before I could catch him in this shot. 

It was 11:57am. I'd made my goal time.

Next year, I'll beat it.