Food - one of my favorite subjects. I did more to anticipate Gracie's daily caloric needs than I did my own, figuring that if I came up short for my own provisions, it would be pretty easy to supplement with what I could find in trail towns. However, Gracie's food was a different story. I met or heard of people hiking with dogs who fed anything from puppy chow (higher caloric value?) to cat food (low nutrient to weight ratio?) and everything in between. Hiking over 2000 miles is a lot to ask of a dog. Why would you choose to feed them something that doesn't meet their nutritional needs (cat food)? Or give them cheap food?
The Hiking with Fido article by veterinarian and experienced long-distance hiker Tom Grenell taught me a lot about the increased caloric requirements for hiker dogs. Human hikers can expect to burn 4000-8000 calories in a day of hiking, or 2-4X average daily caloric needs. I figured to expect about the same (2-4X average) for a dog. To estimate Gracie's needs, I measured what she was normally eating, figured the calorie count (from the values on the package) and multiplied that by 2 and 4 to get a range of values. Then I started researching nutrient dense dog foods. I ultimately chose a combination of Natura EVO small bites (chicken), supplemented with The Honest Kitchen's Thrive dehydrated dog food, olive oil, and (rarely) my leftovers. I went with EVO because it's nutrient dense, I knew Gracie tolerated it well, and it resulted in firm and compact stool. Seriously, when you're picking up or burying your dog's waste on a daily basis, this becomes quite important. I discovered Thrive at my local pet food store, and considered making that Gracie's primary source of food - dehydrated means lightweight, less for she or I to carry - but in the end, there wasn't enough of a difference in weight to nutrient ratio to compensate for the significant price difference when looking at 6 months worth of food.
I was really glad I supplemented with the dehydrated food, though. In camp, Gracie always ate after me, and I would heat water for her food in my cookpot after I ate. Hot water was great for rinsing my cookpot, and the rinse water and its concomitant food particles got added to her dehydrated food. Gracie absolutely loved Thrive, and on really cold nights I felt it was really comforting for her to get a warm meal. Drizzle a little olive oil on top for extra calories and she was in dog food heaven. In calculating how much food she would need over the course of the hike (initially planning for 5 months start to finish), I took the range of calorie needs, figured she would do fine at the low end of that range for the first few weeks, but would need more the further we went, and created a range of estimates. I bought six months worth of food, and with the help of many friends, divvied up Gracie's rations and had them shipped to us at various points along the trail. Around 30 boxes in all (which also contained much of my food) with us coming into town to retrieve them about every 4-6 days.
I actually overestimated by quite a bit. I almost always still had at least 2 days of food for Gracie when we would resupply, but as I mentioned, that was better than running out. EVO small bites is not available in grocery stores, so if we ran out, I had to make do.
There were a couple of times when I had to find other food for Gracie. Early in the hike, I forwarded a resupply box from Franklin, NC because I didn't need any of it yet. Then we got to the next pickup point at Nantahala Outdoor Center before the mail arrived. Instead of waiting another day, I left a forwarding address and walked a mile to a convenience store. I was short on my own rations as well, but a couple of cans of Alpo (for Gracie), some rice cereal (for both of us), almonds and raisins (for me) got us to the next mail drop. I did not like feeding her Alpo, and did a better job making sure she had plenty of food or worked harder to find alternatives (Iams) if she was running low. We arrived in Duncannon, PA after the post office, where our resupply box was waiting, had closed for the day. It was one of the rare times the food bag was close to empty. The Doyle hotel offered a shuttle to the local grocery where I got Gracie a ham shank, which she gnawed down to the size of a golf ball overnight.
Another recommendation, which worked really well for Gracie, and which she loved, was putting extra weight on her before the hike. I fed her 1.5X her usual ration for about six weeks prior to starting the hike. That resulted in an extra 5 pounds. We had a few visits to the vet during the hike and I was always pleased to learn she never dropped more than 5 pounds over the course of the hike. We saw or heard of dogs that were skin and bones, but Gracie looked healthy from start to finish. It didn't hurt that she got lots of treats, especially toward the end of the hike (cheese!) from our hiker family. Which brings up the subject of treats. I made the mistake of letting Gracie help me attempt the half-gallon ice cream challenge when we reached the halfway point. I also gave her a "half-way hotdog" to honor her success.
Two weeks later, she was having consistent gastric distress because I'd fed her enough junk food to throw her gut flora out of balance. Off to the vet we went. After 10 days of flagyl, she was good as new, and I'd learned my lesson about appropriate food rewards.
Hiking with a dog is a lot like hiking with a toddler. It's obvious when they're really enjoying themselves, but if they're having a problem, it's not always easy to figure out why. They can also get themselves into trouble when left to their own devices. There is much additional effort and responsibility to take on to make it a positive experience for you and your dog, and to have minimal impact on the trail and the people and animals you share it with. How willing are you to take this extra effort and incur the extra expense that responsibly hiking with a dog requires?
The remaining posts will delve into these with more detail, but consider if you're willing to: keep your dog on leash the majority of the time, or at a minimum have control of your dog so it's not a nuisance to other hikers and animals; bury your dog's waste; carry it's supplies (food, water, cold weather gear, booties, medications, first aid supplies, vaccination records); filter its water; feed high quality food; get extra vaccinations; carry maps and guidebook pages so that you have information about the nearest roads and vets in case of emergency; pay a little extra for lodging that accepts pets, or forgo a night in town because you can't find a place that accepts pets; tend to a cold, wet, hungry, and tired dog before tending to your own needs; miss out on social opportunities with your hiking friends because there's no secure place to keep your dog; help your dog negotiate the trail (boulder scrambles, log bridges, river fords, ladders, canoes, mud, and bogs); tent out if other shelter residents don't want to sleep with a dog; pull ticks off your dog and yourself several times a day from Virginia to Vermont; arrange for boarding and transportation for your dog while you hike the Great Smoky Mountains and Baxter State Park; and ultimately, hike your dog's hike, not your own, at your dog's pace, not your own.
Those are the primary elements to taking full responsibility for the care and safety of your dog and minimizing its impact on others and the environment. Hiking with your dog can be a very rewarding experience for both of you, but it's not without it's challenges.
When I prepared for my thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail, I did a lot of research about hiking with dogs. My philosophy being that since I was making the choice to bring my dog on this adventure, it was my responsibility to do everything I could to make it a safe, enjoyable experience for her, and for us to be a responsible hiking team. I didn't succeed on all fronts, but we survived the trail, she completed all of the trail on which dogs are allowed to hike (over 2000 of the 2178 miles), and made more friends than enemies. With that experience, I offer myself as a resource for people who want to attempt a thru-hike with a dog. This is the first in a series of informational posts about what it takes to successfully thru-hike with a dog. Topics I will cover in subsequent posts include hiker responsibility, nutrition, vaccinations, lodging & logistics, gear, travel (including hitch-hiking), hygiene, and trail etiquette. For more information, the Appalachian Trail Conservancy is a good starting point, and where I began my initial research, for information about hiking with dogs.
Trail Worthiness - Or, how to know if you have a hiker dog on your hands
Physical Ability
I knew without a doubt Gracie would be able to handle the physical rigors of long distance hiking when two years prior, at the completion of a 15 mile day hike in Austin she looked at me as if to say "we're not done, are we? let's do that again!" Meanwhile, I could hardly move. Gracie was also easily able to keep up with me for 6+ mile runs, and never seemed to tire of chasing balls and sticks on land or in the water. She is a really strong swimmer, has the agility of a mountain goat over rocky terrain, and would even climb playground equipment with encouragement. But physical stamina and agility are only part of the hiker dog equation. A good hiker dog also needs to be well-socialized. That's where I fell short with Gracie.
Social Skills
I planned for us to go on a minimum 1 week "shake down" hike before starting the AT, but it never happened for a variety of reasons, chief among them my willfully naive optimism that "everything would be ok," lack of funds, and the fact that I didn't even have a backpack until 2 weeks before we started hiking. Because this would be our first hike together, it was even more important that we go on a test hike. I tell people now that had we done so, I probably wouldn't have brought Gracie to the AT. She just doesn't do well meeting new people. A hiker dog should be approachable by friendly strangers equivalent to Canine Good Citizen terms, and Gracie does not meet that standard. She was better by the end of the hike, but on several occasions she lunged at other hikers and would bark and snarl inappropriately when people walked by at camp. I did what I could to keep her away from others and let people know she was not friendly. I also kept her on leash all the time until we got to Vermont. Still, it was stressful for Gracie, stressful for me, and potentially dangerous for others, not to mention bothersome. For this reason alone, I would not take Gracie on another long-distance hike unless I got the training necessary to get her CGC certification.
On-Leash/Off-Leash
When people asked why I kept Gracie on leash, here are the reasons I gave: She doesn't have a perfect recall; I don't want her to be a nuisance to other hikers or animals; I want to know when & where & how often she eliminates, so I can bury it and assess her health; and I don't want her getting into anything that could lead to illness or injury. Plenty of people think hiking dogs should be allowed to roam free, chase anything that moves, and even kill and eat creatures in the woods. I'm not one of those people. Gracie is as much a guest in the woods as I am, and in the spirit of following leave no trace principles, I kept her on leash over 80% of the time. When we got into more challenging terrain, especially in New Hampshire and Maine, I would let her off leash for steep ascents and descents, as well as for river fords, for safety. By then, she was better about meeting people, and really good about tracking behind me as I walked, so I would let her off leash as long as she didn't linger too far behind. Leashes are required for more than 40% of the trail, and for me, it was easier to keep Gracie leashed than to figure out where they were/were not required. I already had enough to worry about.
Other
Additional characteristics that helped Gracie thru-hike were her willingness to carry a backpack (though she didn't carry one for over 75% of the trail) and wear booties and other protective gear. Her uncanny ability to keep rodents and bears away (all while sound asleep), shed dirt and mud before bedtime, and add 10 degrees of warmth to the sleeping bag. A good sense of humor and a willingness to get up and hike whenever asked (except for that one time at Potaywadjo Spring lean-to in the 100 mile wilderness). For all the time she spent rolling in dirt and leaves and tromping through mud and bogs, she never really smelled bad (at least not to me - there really is nothing like a mother's love).
Or, my experiences with physical therapy and impatience
My positive attitude has left the building. Had a great PT session this morning where I learned how to strengthen the interosseous muscles and increase my limited range of ankle motion. Discovered that engaging my toes results in nearly pain free walking. The therapist encouraged me to engage my toes more when running, and cleared me to run under certain conditions (if pain was below a certain level, I wasn't changing my gait to compensate, and pace didn't slow by more than 1 min/mile). So, I laced up the trail runners tonight and went for a test run. It was far shorter than I wanted it to be. Pain free walking does not yet translate to running at a manageable level of discomfort. So, I am frustrated and impatient, missing running, and not excited about getting in the pool on cold mornings for more water running.
I am still relieved this is not a stress fracture, I have a plan and support for recovery, and I'm seeing some progress. This incident has exposed some structural weaknesses and given me the opportunity to address them before they devolve into more serious injury. Nonetheless, I'm a runner and I miss running. It's clear that I overestimated my body's ability to adapt to increased mileage with minimalist shoes. I also can't help but wonder what impact six months of hiking has had on my body. However, I am choosing to trust that if I do the work, I will get to the start line of my race.
Time to do my toe curls.
Or, an unexpected benefit from months in the long green tunnel
Had my first water running session this afternoon, and it wasn't the borefest I anticipated. Granted, 100 minutes in the pool is a long time, but I could tell my hip flexors were getting a good workout. Hopefully I was getting some cardio benefit, too. I barely broke a sweat, but the ambient temperature was quite chilly. When I got out of the water, my legs felt lighter, like I'd just removed ankle weights I'd been wearing.
At Stacy pool (outdoor, heated, partially spring fed, seemed like a good choice for the first water running session) water running consists of untold (unknown) numbers of short laps in the section of the pool that's over 5 feet deep. I'd guess 10-15 yards long? The only people at the pool longer than me were the lifeguards. So, how did I manage to not poke my eyes out from boredom doing the same thing for over an hour and a half?
Since this was my first attempt at water running, I spent a lot of time evaluating and adjusting my form, position in the water, and effort level. I also tried different techniques and cadences, trying to figure out what was appropriate for today's long run simulation. I also avoided looking at the watch as long as possible. Sometimes I would look down and be surprised that almost 20 minutes had passed. Sometimes I looked down and couldn't believe less than 2 minutes had elapsed. Other than thinking about what I'm doing, or zoning out between glances at my watch, I mostly notice what's going on around me.
A guy was sitting on the lawn next to the pool working on a large Ojo de Dios. He started it when he got to the pool, and made a lot of progress. At first I thought he was lashing sticks together to build a kite, then I saw the ojo begin to take shape. I recognized the art form, having made several small God's eyes with yarn and popsicle sticks as a child, but I couldn't remember what they were called. I asked him about it before he left, and got to tell him how much I enjoyed seeing it take shape.
Watching people execute a really good dolphin kick fills me with amazement. One particularly effortless-looking swimmer did several lengths of a drill where he would stroke, then follow with a dolphin kick, always stroking just with the right arm. He moved through the water more like a fish than a human.
That homeless-looking guy has picked a great spot (poolside) to settle in for a late afternoon nap in the sun; the sun feels good on my face; probably should have worn sunscreen, wonder if I'll get burned - isn't the sun closer to the earth in winter, even though it's colder? Someone must have walked too close to the car, I hear Gracie barking; what kind of trees are these by the pool? Oak? can't really tell without my glasses or any remembrance of how to ID an oak tree. Whose afternoon is less boring? mine or the lifeguard's?; I keep pulling to the left/rotating a little to the right - my effort must be uneven; 20 minutes in, I only need to do the same thing 4 more times.
Falling asleep as I write this - must've been a good workout.
This holiday, I chose to do something different for Christmas. Being single, I don't have a ready excuse to not spend the holiday with my family. I love my family, but sometimes I prefer to create my own Christmas celebration. They (and I'm purely making this up based on my perceptions, which could be totally out of line) are pretty invested in doing the same thing every holiday season. I like variety and I'm very much in the process (does this process every really end? answer: no, the subject of the process just changes) of figuring out how I like to do holidays on my own. This year I chose to visit the fam for turkey day, and stay at home for Christmas.
It was challenging to share this decision with my mother, but it appears that we have all survived and I dare say I have had a satisfying holiday. Earlier this week I went into near panic mode because I hadn't made any social plans for Christmas. It was one thing to not spend Christmas with my family, but I did not want to spend Christmas alone. I planned to invite friends over to hang out at the house for the afternoon, but there was the usual bit of inertia/anxiety to overcome before I could get my idea from thought to Evite action. By mid-week, I'd put out the invitation, and invited a dear friend to join me for Christmas Eve service.
The service was great, lots of Christmas Carols (Why are most of the greatest hits hymns Christmas Carols? Why am I asking? They're great to sing, in a joyful, heart-opening, grounding sort of way. That's enough.) and it was really cool to look around and just take in the experience of being in the new worship space with the community. The space is not finished, but for me, that makes it more special/memorable - the fact that we're willing and able to create sacred space anywhere we choose. This morning I puttered around the house preparing for guests and gradually cranking the volume higher and higher on the Glee Christmas album. Favorite song to harmonize with: O Holy Night. A fun assortment of friends came over to hang out while (gluten free) cookies were no-baked and baked, bunnies were held, cider was mulled, mimosas were mimosad, wood stove was fired up, dogs were hounded, avocados were guacamoled, and chips were salsad. [shout out to Don for the inspiration] Also, there was a cheese ball.
Later in the evening, family phone calls were made and blog post done. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
The video quality is not the best, but this summer, I finally attended the annual drumline competition in Austin. Wow. I love me some percussion and dance and drumline is a great, though somewhat raunchy, combination of the two. The group in the video was the smallest and youngest of the competitors, but they were my personal favorites. They totally had heart, and that usually gets mine.
I was greatly relieved the doctor was not convinced I had a stress fracture, but I'm to follow the "pain free principle" until, I suppose, there's no pain. Which means alternatives to running that provide equivalent cardio and muscle work, in addition to physical therapy. One of the best options is deep water (aqua) running.
If you go back a couple years in the blog, you can find a number of entries regarding my "evolving" relationship with swimming as I trained for my first Olympic distance triathlon. For a water sign, swimming has been an acquired taste and part of it's challenge/frustration is that even when I work at it, I don't experience significant improvement. Unlike my experiences with speed/hill work with running and cycling. It's occurring to me as I write that my swimming skills and approach to improving them have some parallels with my relationship skills. I think the solution is that they simply need more work. Been working on that. Now I get a great opportunity to spend more time in the water in a non-swimming way.
Over the summer and into the fall, I fell in love with one of the treasures of Austin, Barton Springs Pool. After 10 years, I finally know it for the gift that it is. It took months of leisurely, non-goal oriented post-run swims to get there. But once I was there, it was like suddenly noticing something really remarkable about someone with whom you've had a casual friendship, and your friendship gets deeper because of this new appreciation and awareness. Good thing we're on such good terms, because I think I will be spending a lot of time there over the next month or so. For the past year I've felt like I've been (slowly) growing into my life; perhaps this is my time to grow into my true water sign-ness. Time to find out if that wetsuit still fits.
Or, how to make an ice bath less excruciating.
The delight of post-workout ice baths became part of my routine when training for my first Half-Iron triathlon in '08. Sure, it was torturous to step into an ice water bath, but my legs felt so much better afterward, it was worth the temporary agony. And once I got settled in the tub, it wasn't so bad.
However, anyone who suggests you add ice baths to your recovery routine should be required to include instructions for the "lobster method." It wasn't until I started training for the marathon this year that I was clued into this technique for reducing the entry shock. It's ridiculously simple, but makes a huge difference.
I am a cold-natured person, so I tend to wear a lot of clothing for the ice bath - shorts, wool socks (usually the Smartwool socks I ran in), baselayer, fleece top, and toboggan. Then, I make sure I've got a mug of hot tea or coffee. With a 20lb bag of ice at the ready, I turn on the cold water tap and get in while the water runs. Once the water hits about mid-thigh, I grab the bag of ice and pour it in. Just like turning up the heat on a lobster, but in reverse. It is amazing how much easier it is to acclimate to the cold in this way.
Standard timing for an ice bath is 10-15 minutes. I always stay in at least until the ice melts, and go for 20 if I can. A nice wam shower to follow up is great. I prefer to reward myself with a hot epsom salt or mustard seed bath, which may cancel out the benefits of the ice bath, but I don't really care. One recent Saturday, I skipped the follow up hot bath and my feet were still cold at 5pm. No good.
My favorite hat for the ice bath was earned at a Columbia clothing promotion at the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta this year. The task: spend 3-4 minutes in a -14 degree F freezer while singing karaoke wearing said hat and a Columbia jacket. First karaoke experience. Ice, Ice Baby has way more lyrics than I realized. Fortunately for you, it was all captured on video. The ice baths feel colder than that freezer did, but the karaoke was more fun.
Or, modifications to my daily activities to accommodate the (still) undiagnosed foot injury.
First off, what follows is not a list of complaints, but statements of fact. These activities would put unwanted stress on my tender foot, so I am removing them from my repertoire for the time being. Second, Devon, over at greenhousegoodlife had some really choice suggestions for blog update titles, but I felt they were a bit punitive toward my foot, so I've opted not to use them, my foot needs no more negative press than what I occasionally give it, but I won't spare you Devon's clever wordsmithing. "malevolent metatarsals" and "offending appendage." Amusing, but I'm leaning toward tenderfoot, myself. Actually, I'm leaning toward most things these days, since I'm trying to keep weight off the injured foot. Third, spending an afternoon in a roomful of runner athletes for a holiday party was not the best idea. I wasn't the only one in the room on the "disabled list" if you will, but I did feel quite sad about my current situation after I left. A margarita (or two) and some commiserating/recovery planning with a some friends who have survived stress fractures and sprained ankles mid to late race season was a good start to a more positive attitude. The coach-recommended ice water soak for my foot after I got home was torture enough to forget anything else that might have been on my mind.
Turns out, I use that right foot for lots more than standard running and walking. In thinking about how I can maintain my fitness if this is indeed a stress fracture, I'm discovering quite a few of my life-maintenance activities, fall-back-on athletic activities, and general hobbies are not available or require significant modifications. To wit:
Running
Walking the dog
Hauling 5 gallon water bottles into the house
Many of my favorite yoga poses (warrior series, crescent, down dog, triangle, tree)
Standard pushups and plank pose (I am already doing modified pushups. No way am I losing the gains I'd already made here)
Biking (not sure about this one, depends on Dr. consult)
Swimming (see above)
Getting up to/down from the sleeping loft without paying careful attention to foot position/placement
Hiking
Squats and step ups (not really missing those just yet)
I am continuing to hope this is not a stress fracture, but also mentally preparing myself for lots of water running in the near future if it is. Santa, can I modify my wish list this late in the game?
Tomorrow - more on ice baths and a video link.
Off the top of my head, here are the books I remember reading in 2010. Tacking on the last couple months of 2009 just because.
The Bourne Identity
The Bourne Supremacy
The Bourne Ultimatum
I only allowed myself to watch the Bourne movies after reading the books. The films were disappointing in comparison. Ludlum created some really empowered women characters for the books, who were practically invisible in the movies. Also the intricate plots and inventive backstories were watered down or competely (and less interestingly) changed for the films.
snippets of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. I will nibble my way through this one eventually.
First 13 chapters of The Devil Wore Prada. The movie was more fun. Never really felt the need to finish the book.
Checked and rechecked and checked again Joseph Campbell's The Mythic Image, but never really got into it. Not the right time, I suppose.
snippets of Pia Mellody's Facing Love Addiction and Facing Codependence - have read both of these previously, so just revisiting.
The complete works of Geneen Roth. I started with Women, Food, and God, on recommendation from my therapist, then went back to her first book and worked my way through. Fascinating and helpful stuff. The right books at the right time. If you struggle with your relationship with food or you relationship with self, I highly recommend checking out her work.
Whistle While You Work - a good little book on hearing and heeding your life's calling, another recommendation from my therapist
Broken Open, How Difficult Times Help us Grow - recommended by a friend. Great book, but not a lot of new information or insight for me. A good reminder that "there's gotta be a pony in here somewhere!"
The Great Gatsby - recommended by one of the book's biggest fans. I was not overwhelmed by it. Neither of us can quite get what the other sees/doesn't see in the book.
The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner - again, book (actually a short story) was better than the movie
The Way of the Peaceful Warrior
The Four Agreements and Mastery of Love (via audioCDs on New Mexico road trip) - good, but somewhat redundant
Running across Countries - fascinating account of running across France, Germany, and Europe
Planning to finish before year's end: Your Power to Create and Farm City (both audioCD)
I probably left something off the list, but trust the books won't be offended by my poor memory.
Quite simple to create the previous post when things in my life were going pretty well. It was good that I reminded myself of how I really feel about the ups and downs of life before today's challenges happened. Here I sit with a bag of frozen peas on my possibly stress fractured foot, while imploring puppy dog eyes wonder why I'm ignoring the fact that her dinnertime has long since passed, and car upholstery and rugs await some serious cleaning because said dog (who I still love dearly) barfed in it three times today. Let me just add my own digestive disturbances to the list while I'm at it, though I'll leave it at that.
In the spirit of the previous post, I acknowledge the delightful experiences interspersed throughout my day. This morning's run - People running with their dogs (Gracie has earned a pass for runs longer than 6 miles, so she wasn't along today), losing the map but not getting lost, seeing ripe persimmons hanging from a tree in someone's yard, fall color - red leaves! on trees, the company and support of my running buddies. A sense of peace that even if I have a stress fracture, I have options regarding the marathon. Allowing myself to feel the anger and frustration about the injury (as yet, not officially diagnosed) all the same. Picking out birthday presents for friends. Singing Happy Birthday to my three-year old great niece. Getting to know a couple of people better. Beginning to detect a possible sense of direction and purpose for the next several years of my life. A nap with the pup before she got sick. Gluten free chocolate torte and a fire in the wood stove. My life may have it's challenges, but I have plenty to appreciate and be grateful for.
It's Advent season, not epiphany season, but I'll take an epiphany anytime I get one, and I got one the first Sunday of Advent, sitting in church. I love the church I attend because it is radically inclusive and active with social justice and community service/outreach. But I'm not always crazy about the mention of Jesus or the adherence to standard Christian rituals. Jesus was a righteous dude and all, but so were Buddha, Mohammed, and a host of spiritual mystics, and I believe they are all valid paths to connecting with a higher power. I value that their beliefs, along with contemporary writings are often included in services. But it's the radical inclusiveness that keeps me coming back. So often the past year I've felt lost in my life and not sure where I fit or if I fit anywhere, but I was always, always welcome at church. It was a place I could go to feel affirmed in my humanity, no matter how confused I was about who I wanted to be or how I wanted to be in the world. That acceptance always grounds me and helps me reconnect to the essence of my self - the inner knowing that I am ok and will always be ok, no matter what else is going on in my life. So I put up with the parts I'm not crazy about. In the meantime I've learned a lot about the connection all the Christian rituals have with the pagan and celtic calendars and rites that predate them.
But about that epiphany thing. It was the first Sunday of Advent and sitting in church I wondered why we repeat these rituals every year. What's the point? Then I realized, at least for me, the rituals offer a sense of hope in difficult times. They are a reminder that there is something worth hanging in there for, and while you're hanging in there, there is something to experience. I ascribe to the heaven on earth philosophy (that is, our presence in the here and now is our best opportunity to experience spiritual connection), not the heaven in the hereafter. I'm not saying that anything I do now is in exchange for some reward when I die. It's more like there are little moments of heaven to be experienced, lived, tasted, and felt right now and that includes pain and anguish as part of the equation. Examples - sunrise, sunset, watching my dog be a dog, sitting in the sun, or by a fire, walking in the rain, holding a beloved pet as it dies, being vulnerable with friends, being authentic with my family, chocolate, naps. Maybe you get the picture. So many little things about life to be cherished for what they give in joy or in wisdom or just in reminding us of the bittersweet gift of humanity. Rituals serve to remind me that I always have access to that, all I have to do is show up and be present in the moment.
For years, the only apple varieties I knew of were Red Delicious and Golden Delicious. That's all I remember mom bringing home from the store or seeing in the store. Always hoping for crisp deliciousness, but so often being let down with a mealy, unflavorful bite, I had no early appreciation for apples. Sometime in college I discovered Granny Smith and what a difference that made. Consistently tart and crisp, they became my go to apple. But I still didn't choose apples that often.
Flash back about ten years ago, a significant other who was instrumental in bringing bunnies and my beloved dog into my life, also introduced me to some new varieties of apples. I had a previous s.o. to thank for my appreciation of mango, avocado, and banana pancakes, but that's another story. Fuji and Gala entered my apple vocabulary and pushed Granny Smith aside. Never having done a side by side taste test, Fuji and Gala seem pretty similar to me. Their biggest appeel being a more balanced sweetness. Frankly, Granny Smith had started to seem tough on the outside and a bit pushy with its acidic, in your face flavor.
Then five years ago I had what I can only call a spiritual experience over an apple. On layover in the Heathrow airport, hungry, tired, and lonely on my way to or from India - I can't remember which way I was going, being under the terminal effect. Airport terminals always feel like Vegas (and I don't care for Vegas) to me - all artificial lighting so that time stands interminably still, few reminders of the natural world, and people, including myself, spaced out and disconnected, mindlessly moving through life. A generally soul sucking experience. So there I was looking for something to eat after spending untold hours in flight and on impulse I selected an apple from the basket at one of the endlessly similar book/magazine/snack vendors.
I took the first bite while walking and had to find a place to sit and enjoy the rest of it. I'd never tasted an apple so delicious. Had no idea they could be this good. The perfect combination of sweet/tart/juicy/crisp wrapped in a peel that was firm, but yielded well to the bite. Had I saved the sticker? What kind of apple was this? Braeburn! Who knew an apple good be amazing. Gala and Fuji paled in comparison.
Since then, I've been sampling new to me varieties of apple, but so far, none have supplanted the mighty Braeburn. Jonagold, Rome, and Jonathan, Macintosh, and most recently Pinova. Of those, my least favorite was the Pinova, with its floral overtones. Of late the Honeycrisp has surged onto the apple scene, and I finally tried one this year. Perhaps my expectations were too high because of all the hype. Honeycrisp was good, but in that you remind me of the one I like better kind of way.
My parting thought about apples is that I choose organic. I suppose there may be some personal benefits, perhaps they taste better or have higher nutrient values than conventional, though there are conflicting reports on that. When I buy organic I am supporting sustainable agriculture practices and the health of the planet, important values, which are worth a little sacrifice (extra $ at the checkout) on my part.
I am in love with my baby dawg. It's a delightfully simple and pure love. She has her issues, but I think she is perfect exactly as she is - it's me who needs more training. She has been part of my life for over eight years, longer than any of my partnerships have lasted. She's even outlasted my longest permanent work situation. I know I will always love her and whatever time we have together will seem too short. Things about her that I love: her goofy sense of humor and playfulness, her expressive face and brown eyes; her willingness to join me on my adventures - long road trips, hiking the Appalachian Trail, neighborhood runs, local trail runs, and swimming; that she smells like corn tortillas; her feet - seriously, she has the most perfect feet; her agility and powerful athleticism - seeing her run full tilt, jump obstacles, launch herself with abandon into the water time after time to retrieve, and swim as fast as she can; the way she will lay with part of her body on my foot, rest her head in my lap as I drive, or sit next to me on the loveseat; her sensitivity to my sadness or loneliness - how she'll bring me a toy because that always cheers her up, or just get close to me; the whole body wag; how she'll do zoomies around the house or yard after getting toweled off post-bath or rainy run; her intelligence, which equates to a need for work to do and puzzles to solve - I'm convinced she's much smarter than me, and let's me think I'm in charge; her eagerness to learn and responsiveness to training - her willingness to hop in a canoe, cross log bridges, climb mountains and playground equipment; her love of food; her love of people - once you get past her initial fears; her respect of rabbits, cats, and other creatures - except flies, those are for catching; and her love of my nieces.
I never would have guessed upon our first meeting that I'd be this devoted for this long. She has done so much to teach me what it means to really love and forgive. I sometimes fall short of doing the very best for her that I can, but she loves me just the same. Gracie keeps me on my toes, brings more joy into my life, and I'm grateful that she's in my life.
Anyone remember that advertising slogan? It made a big impression on me because it was the first time I realized women could be pilots (other than Wonder Woman, but her plane was invisible). Didn't mean to skip so many Holidailies. Gotta figure out how to make daily blogging more efficient. Shorter posts, more typos perhaps. In an effort to make up missed days, it's two-a-days until I get caught up. I shouldn't still be up at this hour. There's a 22 miler on the schedule for Saturday morning, and tonight's rest is more important than tomorrows. Speaking of running, the recovery from Sunday's "race" went pretty well, considering I chose not to do an ice bath that day. Wednesday's workout was a 2 mile time trial. The second of the training season. I was disappointed I didn't see as much improvement in my time as I wanted, but coach was good to remind me it was following on two tough weeks of workouts, fighting off a cold, and I'd had stomach issues most of the day leading up to the workout. For now, I'm taking the Decker Challenge as a better indicator of my fitness.
Or, Decker Challenge Half Marathon race report
The plan for the day: Run 5+ miles (easy pace) from my house to the race site, run the first 5 miles of the race at easy pace, then practice MGP (marathon goal pace) for the final 8.1 miles. I had no idea what to expect for that last 8, and lots of questions and doubts. How hard would it be? This is a hilly course, can I sustain MGP on that kind of course after a 10 mile warmup? Had I hydrated enough the day prior? If I hadn't mentioned it previously, training has entered the realm of "I've never run that far before," and I just don't know how my body will respond to what I'm asking of it. Still, I like having a plan, and generally trust that my coach isn't going to ask more of me than I can deliver, even though what she asks may be tough. Also, the last time we had an MGP practice run, I'd gone about 20-30 seconds faster/mile than MGP, which may sound good, but isn't gonna help me meet my race goal. So this was a good opportunity to practice pace discipline and going out easy from the start.
What Went Down
Christina (one of my long run training buddies) met me at my house for the run to the race, and we headed out around 6:35. We chit chatted, I almost let us take a wrong turn, and we ended up at the race 5.7 miles and about an hour later. Plenty of time to shed extra layers, visit the bathrooms, and find Devon (my other long run buddy), our very important ride home. It was a chilly morning, but fortunately not the near-freezing temperatures predicted earlier in the week. There was a pretty stiff north wind for the first four and last two miles, but other than that, probably the best conditions this race has seen in awhile. I was grateful. Christina & I stayed inside until about three minutes to start, delaying the return to the wind and cold as long as possible.
Mile Splits and Commentary
Mile Time Notes
- 9:33 Feels pretty good, but I'm concerned that it's a little fast considering the work that lies ahead. We back off a bit.
- 10:32 Not sure I want to back off quite so much. I'm having a mental tug of war between miles two and three, wanting to go a little faster so MGP won't seem like such a big transition when we get to mile 5. Took water at the aid station.
- 8:34 Oooh, didn't mean to go that fast. After mile 3 I remember that I'm supposed to run easy pace when I'm not running MGP, so I back off again. Looking at the splits now, I wonder if the mile markers were not placed accurately for 3 and 4 because my effort level seemed pretty consistent over those miles.
- 11:30 See above. Really committed to sticking to conversational pace by now, mostly to delay the MGP portion as long as possible. Not chatting much except to mention that. We'd reviewed possible post-race breakfast options during miles 2-3. Ate a gel prior to the aid station and took water.
- 9:47 Last easy mile. The plan was to make it last, but it went by quicker than intended. Vishal (training group buddy) passed me during mile 5.
- 8:44 Ironically, MGP pace starts where the hills do. Caught up to Vishal on the big hill and we chatted a bit. Told him my MGP plan and passed him briefly. Took more water at the aid station.
- 8:53 A little slow. The fear factor set in (fear that I wouldn't meet my goal) so I picked up the pace a little. About this time I'm thinking more core work would really be helpful because my hips are a little fatigued. I'm paying more attention to what's going on in my body than the terrain, but it's pretty countryside we're running through. The hills seem easier when I remember to lean into them.
- 8:34 A little fast, but made up what I lost in the last mile. At this point, I've got a mental picture for the rest of the race. The last 10K will probably feel like I'm racing 10K pace, and the last 5K will probably feel like I'm racing a 5K, even though I'm maintaining the slower MGP throughout. There's my frame of reference. I take a caffeinated gel and water at the aid station. Vishal is running with us again and we chat a little about the "run from hell."
- 8:58 A little off pace. I don't remember much about this portion of the race.
- 9:02 A little further off pace. I'll blame it on the water stop; just not that skilled at drinking on the run. Oh wait, there was no water stop here. 5K left to go, and I'm feeling a little depleted. Consider taking another gel, but decide not to.
- 8:40 Walked through the water stop here. Vishal waited for me up ahead. Christina's fallen back. I catch back up to Vishal and get back into rhythm.
- 8:45 More hills and wind and I've still got 1.1 miles to go. Vishal encourages me to empty the tank, but I protest, "I'm supposed to maintain MGP." We pass a spectator who shouts "if you can talk you're not working hard enough." I'm executing the plan and don't care what he thinks.
- 7:54 + :40 for the last .1 OK, I'll admit I have a hard time not "racing" a race, and I did ramp up the effort in the last mile, mostly out of concern for the stiff wind, incline, and turns going into the finish. But I'll also say that while the numbers don't lie, I didn't feel like I'd run a sub-8 final mile, I felt slower. I didn't go all out until I made the last turn into the finish. Devon watched me finish and said I looked like death. Which means I've got yet another set of unflattering race photos to look forward to. Gotta work on making it look easier than it is.
I ended up with a 10 minute PR, though really this was my first pure road race at this distance (other half marathons were the run leg of a triathlon and a trail race, apples to oranges). Best part about today was successfully sticking to plan. To answer the questions from the first paragraph: Tough; yes; not really.
Big thanks to Christina for the company and early pacing, Vishal for the late pacing and final push, and Devon for the ride home.
Still wonder how I'm gonna maintain MGP over a longer distance.
It had to happen eventually. Just not into posting today. Was feeling over last week's cold this morning, but by noon was feeling relapse symptoms. Have a half marathon race in the morning, with a 5+ mile "warm up" run to the race site so I get at least 18 in for the day. Had all kinds of plans for the day, but chucked most of them to make priority for napping and tinkering around the house. Ended up being pretty productive. Rearranged my bedroom, caught up on laundry, made some seriously hot green chile stew. Now folks are over at the house for tree trimming and hanging out. I'm off to bed as soon as I get this done. I have some very effective earplugs. Probably the best part about today was napping with the baby dawg. The rearrangement was primarily to allow Gracie access to the bed, and she's able to join me for naps again, which - awesome.
I built a loft bed for myself a couple of years ago, channeling my inner Vera. I haven't found any evidence of it on the Web, but I recall she had a bunk bed or loft bed at her place. I had always wanted one, had always been jealous of my brothers' bunk bed, so built my own from reclaimed lumber from a 50s house I helped deconstruct (same house my toilet seat came from). If I want Gracie to have access to the bed, I have to position her crate so she can use it as a step. For quite awhile that wasn't the case. so it was nice to have her back on the bed with me today. Speaking of, off to bed. That is my exciting life.
What's the point of having answers to the questions my coach posed? Because when I get to the point in the marathon where the miles start with 2, I will likely need something to draw on besides the physical training. I know how quickly and easily negative self-talk can surface, and how compelling it can be. Having a clear sense of purpose and personal meaning attached to the effort I'm expending is one of the best ways I can prepare for the inevitable self-attack. In the middle and late stages of a marathon, it's just not practical to phone a friend, as useful as that can be at other times. I need quick access to the part of me that can shout "f*-off!" to the negativity. I'm too busy running a race to give airtime to internal, self-generated discouragement.
Another thing to consider is the possibility that I'll want to quit, or slow down. Honestly, no one but me really cares about my finish time. Like thousands of others, I have no chance of "winning" or even placing in my age group, so what does it matter if I back off a little? Isn't it enough just to finish? For some people, perhaps. For me, it's about doing the best I'm capable of, and learning what that looks like for a marathon distance. To the consternation of many (several?) people, this kind of drive and determination is primarily focused on my athletic endeavors and does not spill over into other parts of my life where it could be quite useful. There are aspects of my life where I am quite lazy and undisciplined. I just write about the good stuff.
At last night's run workout, our coach emphasized that we're getting to the part of training where things get tough. Time is tight because of extra holiday commitments, training miles and expectations are longer. Days are colder and shorter. Racing a marathon is half legs and half mental (I'd say half heart). So she posed two questions.
- Why are you doing this? Why are you choosing to spend $$$ on training, shoes, cold weather gear, gels, 20lb. bags of ice, entry fees. Why are you choosing to get up at 6 or earlier 5 days a week to run, spending three plus hours on Saturdays running long, going to bed early on Fridays, skipping that extra glass of wine or gluten free beer, or not having any at all?
- Will it still matter if you don't achieve your goal? What if you get sick or injured the week before the race, and can't even make it to the start line? What if something happens and you can't finish the race, or don't meet your time goal?
If I didn't know the answers before, hiking the Appalachian Trail taught me my answers for questions like this. Because I asked them of myself while I was on the trail.
Point One: I love running. Most of my family probably thinks I'm crazy; they'd only run if they were being chased. What do I love about it? I feel at home in my body after and often while running; it often feels more natural to me than walking; it clears my head and makes me a nicer, happier person; I experience cool stuff - like feral monk parakeets at breakfast, the changing colors of the leaves, incredible sunrises, steam rising off the lake, snoozing cormorants, and other creatures. I meet interesting people who can converse in runner's lingo. I also love testing and pushing my physical abilities. I'm pretty naturally athletic, but it wasn't particularly encouraged by my family. In fact, I was discouraged from playing the sports I wanted to play, or given "appropriate for girls" alternatives. Boo! So, for years I was a closet runner, no racing, I just did it because I liked it and it made me happy. I didn't have "running clothes" and maybe replaced my running shoes every two years. Only in the past 10 years, and particularly the past 5, have I really given myself over to the pursuit of athletic goals. I invested in training and really began to nurture that aspect of myself and I feel there's so much more I'm capable of. So, I'm doing this to test my abilities, see what I'm capable of, to get better. I'm no fan of progress for progress' sake, I don't want my toothpaste to be "new and improved" every year, but when it comes to my personal abilities, I get a lot of satisfaction from the work to improve my fitness. I enjoy hill repeats and track intervals, tempo runs and fartleks. I know they pay off and I feel great when they're done, but I actually enjoy doing them, too. For me, they are worth the sacrifices.
Point Two: Absolutely. It took me 1700 miles of the AT to get this one, but in Glencliff, New Hampshire, when my hiking partner, Journey, went home and it was just me, Gracie, and the unknown trail ahead (arguably the most difficult sections - with threats of water crossings that were deep, swift, and cold; possible early season snowstorms; a dwindling window of available time; and the most challenging terrain yet) I knew I had to continue and that I would continue unless I felt I was putting myself or my dog in danger. I had reached a state of peace about the hike - if something happened and we had to go home, I would be disappointed, but not devastated. It would all have been worth every moment. I felt it, I knew it: the Journey was truly the Destination. The friends I made, the miles, the bugs and rain, the months of aching knees, the sweat and the tears, the fear, elation, peace, pain, frustration, and joy, and yes, the food I was able to eat were worth every step taken. It is the same with my marathon training. Regardless of the outcome of the race, I have gained new friends, a new level of fitness from which to start training for whatever's next (I don't expect this to be my only marathon), and the delight of encouraging and nurturing something I love about myself. The satisfaction of dedicating myself to a goal, and persevering to see it through. Now that I think about it, running was one of the first things I did to really take care of myself - body, mind, and spirit. Which brings me full circle to my love of running, and why I ran so many years without racing. Granted, at the moment I am training for an ambitious time goal but ultimately, it's not about the clock.
An introduction, because I can't think of anything more compelling this evening.
I chose to participate in Holidailies 2010 for several reasons. I used to work with Jette (Holidailies founder), knew about Holidailies from it's inception, and this year she suggested I "like" Holidailies on FaceBook. A few entries back, I described how a recent horoscope (Free Will Astrology) encouraged me to update my blog more regularly, and Holidailies seemed like a good motivator to put my writing out there on a semi-regular basis, and perhaps create a new habit. But I wouldn't have considered it had Jette not reminded me of it.
This is not the first time Jette, unbeknownst to her, has been instrumental in motivating me to do something. Back in 2000, when we worked together, I found out she'd signed up for a triathlon. I had been wanting to race a triathlon, had a lot of time on my hands (I'd just gotten out of a relationship), but was scared I wouldn't be able to swim the half mile required for the race. When I heard she'd signed up, I thought, if Jette can do it, why can't I, and the rest is history. So thanks, Jette, for inspiring me to do yet another thing that scares me a little.
Things you can expect to see here: posts about my favorite things: training (currently for my first marathon), food (best reason for running, mostly gluten free, dairy free, and healthy, but I do have my favorite indulgences - hello, Chocolate), my dawg, and whatever else I decide to throw in about stuff I like and stuff I do. And I usually manage to work in a reference to my thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail.
A demonstration - I could hardly wait to get home after tonight's run workout to make myself a basil pesto-black olive-red onion pizza, on Glutino gluten free crust. With a name like Glutino, I don't expect much. They actually make the best gf pretzels, which were a rare but exciting find in trail town grocery stores, but their bagels/pizza crusts have more of a yeast roll taste and consistency. Quite passable, but Udi's pizza crusts come far closer to the mark. I'm curious about the Udi's bagels, which have been waiting in my freezer for sampling. Happy Holidailies!
After a week and a day, I have running water in my bathroom again, and let me tell you, indoor plumbing never loses its novelty. I said that alot while hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2009, and the more I think about it, the more I think it is a universal truth.
I like my 3/4 bath with its vintage tile and pedestal sink. Last year I swapped out the toilet seat for a blue plastic one I'd salvaged from a 50s house I helped tear down. This year Eddie gave me a new set of faucets and Thanksgiving weekend seemed a good time to tackle the replacement. Two trips to Home Depot, four trips to Breed & Co, and eight days later, success! Gotta put in a word for the dudes in the hardware department at Breed (central location). That is my absolute favorite place to shop when I'm working on a project. More than half the time (this project not included) I walk out with spot on advice and no merchandise. They know their stuff, have everything I might need, and know where to find it in the store. You just don't get that kind of service at the big box home improvement stores. And they have killer truffles.
So, here's how the faucet replacement went down. I consulted a website or two to get some tips on the replacement. And headed to the conveniently close Home Depot for teflon tape and a nifty pipe wrench. The old faucet disassembly was simple enough. I was delighted to learn the waterline connections were the same size on the new faucet. Much thanks to the Eddie for the basin wrench. Here's the old faucet, minus the pop-up drain, which I'd already pulled.
All the gaskets were shot, the slip-joint extension for the drain pipe was in sad shape, plus, my first attempt at pop-up drain installation revealed a desperate need for plumbers putty. Off to Breed I went. Next, I installed the new pop-up drain and flange. A simple task made challenging by the limited workspace behind the pedestal. After getting it the drain in place I tried to reconnect to the p-trap, to discover I needed to take about 5/8" off the end of the drain pipe. Disassemble, cut, reassemble. Connect p-trap to drain, install faucets, pop-up drain lever, and reconnected the water lines. The moment of truth. I turn on the water and sadly, discover a leak at the p-trap connection. Tighten the connection some more. Still leaking. Dangit. I suspect it's the gasket, so back to Breed I go, and return with a different type of gasket. Still leaking. By this time it's late Saturday afternoon, and I'm tired of messing with it.
I think about the plumbing all week. When I finally get back to it the next weekend, on closer inspection I discover a little light filtering through the ell-shaped pipe that goes into the wall. Lovely. I start to think perhaps I need to call in a plumber, but I'm not ready to give up that easily. That pipe does not want to come out of the wall, but several hours after applying some WD40, I get it loose. In the meantime, I've been back to Breed for the replacement pipe and more gaskets, since the helpful hardware man explained on a previous visit that I only needed to hand tighten the nuts, and that the gaskets were getting pinched and were only good for one use. After cutting about an inch off the end of the new pipe, I get everything in place. Moment of truth #2 Still leaking, but now from hairline cracks in the j-bend pipe. By this time it's funny.
It's late, it's Sunday, and I'm really not motivated to drive all the way to Breed, so I fall back on the convenience of Home Depot, since I know what I want and where to find it. I install the new j-bend and finally, everything is working as it should. Exciting, no? Here's the purty new faucet:
Lesson learned - just buy the whole p-trap replacement set already.
The State Plumbing Examiners Office is not far from my house. I often wonder if they have a crack team there...
What does it take to be a successful thru-hiker or marathoner (which I'm not yet, but well on my way toward)? It's a mixed bag of characteristics, but I've realized a couple of things that work for me, and seem to be part of my nature, are a willingness to suffer (happy suffering, as Willow would say) and a short memory. Case in point, this weekend's 18 mile hilly as all get out long run.
Thursday prior I felt really fatigued and took a 1.5 hour nap (one of my favorite perks of freelance/contract work) then slept 10(!) hours that night. Friday I started to feel the beginnings of a cold - itchy/scratchy throat, sinus drainage, and by evening, sore throat. Now my Thursday fatigue made sense, but this did not bode well for the next day's long run. I did what I could to take care of myself - neti pot, EmergenC, salt water gargle, and hoped for the best.
Saturday morning I got up early enough to repeat the neti/gargle regimen. Long runs have entered the realm of "I've never run this far before" and this is my first marathon, so my sense of discipline and my fear of not being fully prepared for the race have me really committed to the training schedule. It also means long runs take on race morning excitement and energy. Which may explain why I felt a little better Saturday morning than I did Friday night. Still, I halfway hoped I'd see my coach early in the run and that she'd send me home when she heard I was nursing a cold. No such luck, but by the fourth mile, I'd mostly forgotten about it. That's not true. Every time we approached a water stop for the first 3/4 of the run, I hoped my coach would be there. When she wasn't, I reasoned that I didn't feel that bad, so I kept going. Willing to suffer in pursuit of a goal.
So, the run had quite a few long, steep hills, but two days later, I only remember two of them, and my general reaction is "those weren't so bad." Granted, it helps to have a frame of reference that includes plenty of Wilke and Hill of Life repeats, plus any number of mountains and the entirety of southern Maine on the Appalachian Trail. They provide points of comparison (whether or not accurate) from which I can tell myself "if you did X, you can certainly do this." Looking back at the entirety of the run, the only reminder of its difficulty is the soreness in my quads, which I'm still feeling today. Mentally, I'm still thinking, "that wasn't so bad."
The two things I most want to remember from this run are the sight of a majestic buck standing on the lawn in a residential neighborhood - so still I first thought he was a lawn ornament - as we ran by. And that I did it.
Here's the elevation profile from the run - doesn't look that bad, right?
I actually overestimated by quite a bit. I almost always still had at least 2 days of food for Gracie when we would resupply, but as I mentioned, that was better than running out. EVO small bites is not available in grocery stores, so if we ran out, I had to make do. 
