snake bit

"it's just a half marathon..." i said to myself. 

ha ha. i am so dumb.

i mean seriously. by now i've run enough trail events to know not to take anything for granted. to know that there's no such thing as "just a half marathon."

and to know that you don't leave your legs on the trail during an 8-mile group run the day before the race.

oh, yes. i did that.

***********
the course description for the rattlesnake ridge 13.1 says, "elevation gain: about 2700 feet." what it doesn't say it that the majority of that gain is in the first 5-ish miles. so if you left your legs somewhere in discovery park the day before, you might find yourself thinking, "i am a terrible runner. this is so runnable. i should totally be running right now," while you hike as quickly as possible. 

so, as beautiful as the course and the day turned out to be (and they were gorgeous), my crabby attitude completely sabotaged the occasion.

***********
saturday flashback: the group run was great, in that it was the first time since sun mountain that my legs actually felt healthy. in fact, it felt so good to feel so good that i was falling over myself to seize the day (even if it was the day-before). 

and by falling over myself, i mean literally. 

fall #1: stepped in a hole in the dunes above the bluff. whump. sand, all up everywhere. 
fall #2: tripped on a root so cleverly disguised that it was nearly invisible even after i picked myself up off the trail and looked for it. 

falling down is funny, really. especially when you're not the guy who fell down. twice.

***********
i didn't fall down on sunday.

which i certainly could have done, many times over (and don't think that the thought didn't occur to me ~ many times over). the footing was tough in places, especially on the long descent to rattlesnake lake. lots of roots and rocks and lines of fall and, oh yes, the hoards of happy day-hikers heading up the hill.

"runner!" they'd sometimes say as we were trying to pass by without brushing, bumping or otherwise bulldozing grandma and baby hortense. other times no one said anything, and we slowed to weave through the sun worshipers and nature appreciators appreciating the sh*t out of the entire trail.

administrative note: as during most trail events, the rattlesnake mountain trail is not closed for the race. and i'm not saying it should be. i'm just saying, "holy sh*t, i hope i don't run into anyone or break my leg on this lovely downhill sprint and maybe i should slow down even though that's not so easy momentum and inertia-wise..."

i didn't fall down on sunday, and i don't believe i caused anyone else to fall down, either. any day i can say that, it should be considered a good day.

***********
my attitude improved during the long downhill, possibly because i was moving at a more reasonable, gravity-assisted pace. then came the bottom of the hill, where you might think, "ha, i survived and i'm done!" and, like at sun mountain, you'd be wrong. 

still to go was an interminable, flat-ish 3-mile out-and-back on the snoqualmie valley trail, which seemed to go uphill in both directions. you could see a loooong way down this section of old railroad right-of-way, and even though there were runners heading back from it, the turnaround point stubbornly refused to appear. this may have been symptomatic of my once-again deteriorating attitude...but i don't think so. i think someone was having fun, moving the sign farther and farther down the trail, just to see who they could make cry.

***********
accord to the results web site, at some point i did cross the finish line. i'm not still out there, so clearly i stopped running, eventually.

i made (at least) two mistakes this day that i will endeavor not to make again:

#1: don't run the race the day before the race
#2: don't get so caught up in your "time" and "where you finish" that you make it impossible to enjoy a day that is impossible not to enjoy.

i mean, seriously.

***********
rattlesnake ridge 13.1

mental difficulty: extraordinary
perceived exertion: more than sun mountain 50k
rattlesnakes seen: 0
fun had: 0

2:26:44
26/96 ~ overall
3/9 ~ 50-59

crossing two bridges

i've worked in healthcare for a long time.

i can walk into a hospital and unblinkingly head to a cadaver lab, participate in what goes on there, and walk back out with a purposeful stride.

i drink later, but on the way in and out: purposeful.

walking in with a loved one who's about to become a patient? my gait loses all certainty. i can't find my way through the byzantine hallways. my brain goes to a slow, low-functioning place.

including two sky bridges thirty feet above minor ave. and marion street, the path from the physician's office to the surgical center is less than a quarter mile, but like the hallways in the overlook hotel, it goes on forever.

i'm breathing shallow, wary and uneasy and apprehensive. i'm used to being able to do something about something, somehow. here, not the case.

mind you, that's what's going on on the inside. what's going on on the outside is all bonhomie, all the time.

"so, just to be clear, i should NOT lose the earrings? don't. 'don't' lose the earrings. got it."

"hi, donna. so, how's your hand hygiene? i wasn't going to ask, but this sign says you want to be asked. mine? mine is awful. i just went for a swim in the MRSA lab."

"she's strong. her first baby came out sideways. she didn't scream or nothin'."

"you know, if you're asleep when the anesthesiologist gets here, she'll be thrilled. 'she's already asleep? awesome, i'm going golfing.'"

me: want to recline your seat?
her: nope.
me: you sure?
her: yup.
me: ...
me: want to play with the sharps container?

then she is asleep, and i'm standing watch. activity swirls by in the hall, full of purposeful people. i know that feeling, and it would come in handy now. doesn't matter. it's my watch, purpose enough.

after an interminable wait, the anesthesiologist glides in, and now we're awake and all-business. question, question, answer, answer. caveat, advisory, question, answer.

"all right, then, if you'll come with me...

doctor and patient walk toward serious-looking doors, and a chatty nurse leads me toward a bright, spacious family waiting area. daytime tv yammers on the set next to me, and i remember that daytime tv sucks. i wouldn't have thought it possible that it could be more brainless than evening tv, but somehow it manages.

people walking by outside look through the windows at those of us on the inside. people push other people in wheelchairs. cars pull up, load fragile passengers, and drive away.

there's a starbuck's logo on the sign marking the main entrance to the hospital. there's a starbuck's logo. on the sign. marking the main entrance. to the hospital.

i look up, look around, and it occurs to me that from where i am right now, i have no idea how to get back to the car, in a parking lot, in a different building.

all i remember is crossing two bridges...

***********

the doctor comes into the waiting area, and tells me everything went great. this and that, what to expect post-op, no worries, oh, and happy birthday.

i wasn't expecting that. and because it caught me off guard, my stoic slipped, just for a moment.

me (small smile, eyebrows up): "thank you."

the tears stayed in.

the new normal

"Just drove by Otto Miller Hall on my way home from work and completely broke down. I live less than a mile away, and drive by or run by there daily. This was a place I spent hours taking classes, studying for exams, and visiting friends. It was a place I always felt safe. Now, one person has taken all that away."

~ from a post on FB

***********

every day another refuge is breached, another sanctuary defiled. and every day decent people retreat, saying, "nothing can be done."

home-grown terrorism is now normalized because "there's nothing we can do about it."

and because lots and lots of americans believe...

"your dead kids don’t trump my constitutional rights."

~ actual quote by some idiot hero of the lunatic fringe and go-to-idiot for idiot media quotes after this week's ho-hum terrorist attack

random premise: if these attacks were being perpetrated by brown people in robes, rather than by white american males, no one would be saying "nothing can be done."

just a guess here that the response would be different because brown people in robes are scary and bad, but white males with guns, well, they're the real americans.

again, just wild speculation, but if the scary/bad people were killing kids at schools every other week there'd be a fucking manhattan project underway and trillions of dollars would be in the process of being spent, and a massive media campaign would be running to convince people that "something can be done, and by god we're doing it."

instead of, you know, not.

because, guns. and 'murka.

***********
Seattle Mayor Ed Murray opened with, "Friends, we have been here before:..."

Our police are to be commended for their quick response.
The emergency medical staff performed in an exemplary manner.
The students reacted and performed as they had been taught.
One student, a building monitor, went beyond the call.
The nearby hospital was professional and did all they could.
...
Tonight, just another name, someone unknown, on the beads.
...
I am just so happy we have enough shootings so people of all walks of life are becoming better at behaving properly when they hear gunshots.

~ john morelock

now we know

just yesterday i asked "who's next?"

who will be the next victims of berserk gun violence in our bloodthirsty country.

now we know.

this is the campus at Seattle Pacific University, where 4,000 students and teachers go to learn valuable lessons about science and philosophy and the arts and where to hide during a mass shooting.

this is the scene this afternoon in front of the gym where my daughter (and dozens of other young girls and their coaches) practice gymnastics.

by sheer, blind chance, the girls were not yet at the gym today when seven people were shot.

right. fucking. there.

fuck this.

killing time

today, as i type, this memorial sits a half a block from our house.

it sprang up this weekend for molly conley, a girl who will never turn 16.

molly no longer lives in the house across the street from us, because she was shot and killed one year ago. on her birthday.

we never met her, but we know her mom, a smart, plucky woman who is, at once, unblinkingly dauntless and utterly destroyed by the loss of her daughter.

she takes her place next to the father whose son was shot and killed a couple weeks ago in santa barbara; the loved ones of three people shot and killed in myrtle beach two days later; and those of seven people shot and killed in chicago last weekend.


over the past several years americans have been conditioned to fear many things, most of which are statistically little or no threat. but because people are afraid, they do dumb things ~ like buy more guns.

it says here that more than 450,000 people in washington state have a permit to carry a concealed handgun. over 100,000 of them are women, and the growth rate for women getting those permits is double that of men.

the refrain among those quoted in the story was the same: "i'm taking responsibility for my safety and protecting myself and refusing to be a victim."

which is to say, they've drunk the NRA kool-aid.

the fact is, more guns equals more shootings and more deaths. 

and women who carry guns for "self-defense" actually increase their odds of being shot.

yay, logic. yay, fear.

americans are outrageously susceptible to well-funded propaganda. if a story supports the cowboy image we've cultivated for generations, by god we believe it. if we're told that guns make us strong and safe and personally responsible, we rush out and buy tens of millions of them.

so we can kill each other (and ourselves) to the tune of 32,000 gun-deaths a year.

ignorant, fearful, and indoctrinated is a toxic combination that has poisoned the american well.

and we just can't seem to stop drinking from it.

"Picture any bragging, gun-wielding gang banger, swaggering cowboy, mafia kingpin, big game hunter, vengeance-seeking action hero, open-carry doofus or would-be mass shooter you like. Now remove the gun from the picture. What do you have? That’s right: Another nervous schlub standing there, looking lost."

~ mark morford

heading toward center

"I am home. In the here. In the now."  

~ Thich Nhat Hanh

***********

this morning in the drowsy place between sleep and omg i have to get up, it occurred to me that one of our cats is a living work of art.

the palette of her coat is a riot of orange and white and black and brown. her face is perfectly divided side-to-side, orange and black.

she snuggles up and purrs and makes our little world a better place.

in the few moments it took this thought to coalesce, i further realized that all the lives around us are living, breathing performance art.

all these lives are unique and belong to no one but themselves. i believe this like i believe in gravity.

i don't see how i can continue being a carnivore.

post game

photo by matt stebbins

the sun mountain 50k rambles over a gorgeous and civilised course high above the methow valley. 

you bound past fields of wildflowers, gawk at spectacular views, and jabber with agreeable people. 

for a first-50k (or any 50k, really) you couldn't draw it up any better.

until you get to the last five miles.

that's where the lovely and amiable and hospitable course turns vicious and beastly and mean. here's a comment from a 2013 participant...

"I cried climbing that last hill last year. Luckily I was wearing sunglasses when Glenn Tachiyama snapped my photo at that point." ~ melody mândrean coleman

it's not that the hill is steep, though it is, or that it ascends thousands of feet, which it totally seems to do. it's that looking up at it after already having run 25 miles is so visually intimidating that you just want to stand there and say, "oh, no. no, no. hell, no." that, and "are you f*cking kidding me?"

but of course you didn't come this far to be turned away, so you fix your eyes on the trail and you climb.

meanwhile, the runners who summited the hill before you are now bombing back down the trail past you. yes, it's an up-and-back. so, you step off the trail to avoid a mass casualty incident, then try to get back into some sort of climbing rhythm. sidestep-resume-repeat.

when you finally get to the top, there's a little temporary sign stuck in the ground that says, "runners turn around here." it seems woefully anticlimactic, but absent other options, you tap the sign, turn, and head back down.

the fight against gravity at this point is a life-and-death matter. gravity wants you to go down fast and awkward, regardless of the impact on your face and bones. your brain feeds back, "uh, this could get ugly quick if you're not paying attention," while your quads look for an opportunity to mutiny.

that's when the cramp started. inside my left leg, running from the knee up to the groin. there's never a good time for a cramp like this, but running a steep, rocky downhill is a particularly bad time.

a cramp like this and catching a toe on a rock simultaneously? muy no bueno. the adrenaline rush at that moment was eye-popping. maybe it was that, or just blind luck, but for whatever reason the trail gods saw fit to allow me to stay upright rather flying-flailing-falling many feet down the slope.

"whoa," i said, mostly because there was nothing much else to say.

the cramp became manageable just about the time the trail spit me out onto the road at the bottom of the hill.

at this point runners might be forgiven for thinking, "okay, this has got to be the finish, right? i mean, no one puts the finish line another mile and a half away after a hill like that."

they'd be wrong.

after an interval that feels like but is not quite forever, you're back on the trail that takes you to the finish line, where you high-five race director james varner and hold that high-five for at least a couple seconds before letting go, because it feels good and in its own little way, important.

***********
the sun mountain 50k is a brilliant event put on by rainshadow running. if you're in the market for such things, this venue, and james's events in general, are not to be missed.

***********
i'm tired today, but not destroyed. turns out my readiness for a 50k was enough after all. going forward, though, it would probably be wise to have a little more training cushion than "just enough, but not one step more."

sun mountain 50k
5:52:21
86/155
12/23 (50-59)

the long game

craving clarity. or beer. whatever.

now the years are rolling by me

they are rocking easily
i am older than I once was
and younger than I'll be

that's not unusual
no, it isn't strange
after changes upon changes
we are more or less the same
after changes we are 

more or less the same

~ paul simon

***********

welp, i'm all trained up for a road marathon.

trouble is, i'm signed up for a trail 50k.

part of me thinks, "dude, you're in trouble." another part thinks, "no, it'll be okay." 

this weekend, we find out.

my foundation to run 26.2 on pavement is built on many trail miles, and not quite as many road miles. i have yet to discover the equation in which the those miles add up to 31 on a tough trail course.

unless...!

unless we throw into the formula the "T" variable, defined as trail miles going by much quicker than road miles and generating far less mental fatigue. i think it's one of planck's theorems, or hawking's, or einstein's. somebody smart, i.e., not me.

the inclusion of the T variable changes everything. if i believe it, it can be true. to quote a trail runner far more accomplished than i: "i will start, and i will finish. the rest will be decided by the mountains." ~ gary robbins

it's not an exact quote, but close enough, and i stand by it completely. (minus the definitive "i will start" and "i will finish" parts. i choose not to incite/amuse the irony gods. they love to decide stuff when mortals speak in absolutes).

let's try it this way:

"i hope to start, and i hope to finish on my feet and able to drink a beer afterward. in between, the trail, the elevation, wild animals, and the irony gods will decide."  ~ me

there. that.

***********

after changes upon changes
we are more or less the same
after changes we are 

more or less the same

a couple years ago i was sure i'd never want to run a marathon. after running a marathon i was sure i'd never want to run farther. sunday, with luck, i will line up to run farther. in the brief time since i stopped hating running, there have been significant changes...but for some reason, i feel pretty much the same. 

probably because earth is a swirling, confusing place.

whatever. when all is said and done, in a world of infinite variables and a lifetime of finite moments, if there is clarity in even one of those moments...everything will be okay.

miles to go

"I will start, and I will finish. The rest is to be determined by the mountains." ~ gary robbins, before the UTMF 100

selfie by gary robbins.

gary robbins is one of the most formidable runners on the planet.

but he didn't finish the UTMF 100. not the way he planned, anyway. 

as crash davis sagely noted, "sometimes you win. sometimes you lose. sometimes it rains."

and, sometimes you hear a 'click' in your foot, and your day is over.

g-rob was right about one thing, though: the mountains determined the outcome. 

whatever form they take, they always do.

april flowers

here's a photo of lush-looking ferns and foliage.

i don't like to talk about the weather here, but seattle had 9 inches of rain in march.

so, i'm gonna talk a little about weather.

even in rainy seattle, nine inches of rain is a lot of rain. it easily broke the previous record for march, at least for as long as people have been keeping track of such things around here. we have no idea what the actual record may have been before that, but my official guess is "12 feet during the cretaceous period."

weather's a tricky topic. nobody wants to hear about it unless it's extreme, and things are either flooding or bursting into flames.

this fact is not lost on the weather channel, which recently started assigning scary names to major winter storms.

weather channel marketer: "people love big storms, epic storms, storms that have names! it's a shame there aren't more hurricanes every year."
weather channel intern: "well, we could start naming WINTER storms. boreas, kronos, maximus..."
weather channel marketer: "that's huge!! go get me some coffee."

here's a photo of me
running in the rain.

with all the rain, there's probably a big ol' bolus of ferns and flowers and other foliage in our future. i think this may already be true, in fact, because for the first time in years i have allergies. or a weird, achy-dizzy cold. or an invasive pulmonary moss.

despite the weather, i spent a good bit of time outdoors in march. 112 miles worth, according to my handy-dandy garmin, plus an unknown number of miles walking the dogs. they got wet, too, but so far have exhibited no signs of moss.

***********

it's april now, and viola! like somebody turned off the faucet. and just yesterday we had a 70F day. it was glorious, and i celebrated by doing nothing. game called on account of flu-like symptoms. wait, i did have a lunchtime nap in my car, does that count?

if things go according to plan, april 2014 will be remembered not for a mysterious ailments, but for a spring break trip to hawaii and many miles piled up in preparation for a 50k trail race in may. the past few days, however, the miles have not been piling up because the symptoms have been piling on.

i find this worrisome because a 50k trail race is no joke, and i'd really prefer to be prepared for this one, as it's my first. i don't have time to be sick. so after today, i won't be. that is all.

***********

saturday is a travel day, and then instead of putting on extra layers we'll be putting on sunscreen. "barefoot running" won't entail minimalist footwear, it'll mean running while actually barefoot. and for the first time in a while, staying hydrated via osmosis won't be possible. we will counter with hydration vests, handheld bottles, and a cooler full of coronas at the beach.

here's a photo of weather at kailua beach, oahu.

the 10-day forecast for kailua beach calls for highs in the upper 70s with a chance of showers. it's the kind of weather ~ boring, predictable, perfect ~ that no one wants to hear about.

unless they're enjoying it themselves.

despite this, and with your kind permission, there's a near-100% chance i will talk about weather here in the coming days...

guerrilla flotilla

hillbilly? i'll have you know i have a
masters degree in primeval zoology.

guerilla running and gorilla running are not the same thing.

except for the uninhibited romping through arboreal wilderness, one might suppose.

***********

the good folks at guerrilla running racing club say the hillbilly half is "the hardest half marathon in washington state." 

that's a bit of hyperbole, but still, the course is a good test of up and down hillage, single-track rockery, and shoe-sucking trail ponds. the other element it had going in 2014 was rain, and lots of it.

the forecast on saturday called for no precipitation until afternoon...and i believed it. i am so dumb. first rule of outdoor activity in the PNW: never believe the forecast. rule number two: go ahead and believe the forecast, but prepare for not-the-forecast.

i broke both rules, so of course the rain started early and never let up. it did, however, get heavier at times. my three tech layers put up little resistance, and four days later my shoes are finally drying out. 

not complaining, mind you. if you're going to run trails here, you get what you get, and you don't get upset. otherwise, yonder is the treadmill.

one caveat to this general rule is when it's raining bullets. then you can get upset, so long as being upset doesn't keep you from moving away from the vicinity as quickly as possible.

apparently there's a shooting range in close proximity to the course. which is fine, if you're into that sort of thing ~ unless you demonstrate that you can't be trusted with the second amendment:

"...beyond the heart-pounding hills of the course itself, several runners reported stray bullets whizzing through the treetops over their heads.

"One runner posted later on the event’s Facebook page: “I thought it was all Hillbilly authenticity. Wow! Officially the craziest race I’ve done … glad nobody was hurt.” The race directors responded, “We are fans of controlled crazy … the wackjob in the woods, not our kind of crazy.”

~ jade belzberg, trail runner magazine

so, yeah. that happened.

***********

earworm du jour: defying gravity, from the "wicked" soundtrack. this one was apt, and even worked in my favor this race. i've done worse, earworm-wise, that's for sure...

As someone told me lately
"Everyone deserves the chance to fly"
And if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free
To those who'd ground me
Take a message back from me
Tell them how I am
Defying gravity
I'm flying high
Defying gravity...

for the record, at no time did i fly around this course. as noted above, however, i did kind of romp through it. the rain and the rocks and the mud wove themselves into a pleasant brocade that went by in a blur, right through the finish line.

and sure, maybe that was because i had to get up at oh-dark-thirty for the drive from seattle to olympia...or maybe it's because it was one of those times when you just get into the zone early and stay there for the entire race.

i don't know about anyone else, but that's how i experience the "runner's high," when everything feels good and you're just breathing and moving and not thinking about anything in particular, all set to a little mental soundtrack that stays in the background and doesn't make you want to bang your head into a tree.

i digress.

the point is, the 2014 hillbilly half was both memorable and nubilous; demanding but not debilitating.

and nobody got shot.

win. win.

***********

hillbilly half marathon
time:      2:07:00
48/212   Overall
2/14       M 50-59

no go

Spend a week in the sun for $40/night!

i just got an email from the nice folks at vacation home rentals. 

they want me to spend a week in the sun in fabulous florida or amazing arizona.

note to the nice folks at vacation home rentals: are you kidding me?

why would i want to spend my money in those two hell-holes?

florida is basically a huge shooting range where anyone can die at any time for no reason. in other words, NRA utopia.

arizona has the guns, along with a broad streak of homophobia running down its spine. if you're white and wearing garish golf pants, you're probably safe. everyone else? duck and cover.

the nice folks at vacation home rentals.com would like everyone to believe they're all about the "family-to-family rentals."

additional note to the nice folks at vacation home rentals: uh, no thanks. my family isn't really into the gun violence or the discrimination.

we have a little bit of money to spend on vacation travel...but it won't be spent in effed-up-florida. or anti-gay arizona.

thanks, anyway. 

 

storming the fort

no jacket required. still, better to have it and
not need it than to need it and say,
"omigod i wish i had a jacket. what kind of idiot
doesn't bring a jacket to a winter trail race?!"

Fort Ebey Kettle Run
20-Mile

"i finished first in my age group! i'm going to disney world!"

~ me

(fine print: there were only two people in my age group.)

***********

dramatic hill (1 ea.). if the wind blows out
here instead of in, you're swimming.

fort ebey state park, on the west coast of whidbey island in washington state, should be on your list.

whatever kind of list you keep ~ bucket, to-do, grocery, whatever ~ this place should be on it.

the scenery is spectacular. the trails are like carpet. the woods are tranquil. and the peace of mind that settles over you while you're there is real and lasting. 

which is to say, it lasts until you're driving home and you wade into traffic and other drivers steal it from you and drive off recklessly, laughing.

i digress.

fort ebey state park. splendid place for a nap or a hike or a breathtaking trail race.

running here is sneaky-tough. the trails are not too technical. the weather is not too adverse. the hills are (mostly) not too dramatic. and yet somehow over the course of 20 miles you gain over 4000 feet of elevation.

your brain doesn't necessarily register the cumulative climbing, but your legs surely do.

when you're done, your tech layers are soaking wet, even though the promised rain never really showed up. waiting for the shuttle, you notice you're shivering, even though you put on dry layers and a winter coat and a stocking cap. right about then you think, "huh, it's colder than i thought." and, "i'm pretty darn tired." and, "where is the f*cking shuttle??"

the point being, 20 miles at fort ebey is good for the body, as well as for the soul. you get your exercise, your meditation, and your lesson in first-world privation, all in one tidy package.

if you're very lucky, you get to have a warm and pleasant conversation with john morelock, author of "run gently out there," who is blessed to call these trails home.

you get to meet local trail kahunas ultrapedestrian ras, kathy vaughan, and van phan.

and you get to watch trey bailey line up for the 10K race on three hours' sleep, still processing the jet fuel he sampled the night before...and finish 3rd overall.

these things, too, should be on some list, somewhere...because they're the makings of a very good and memorable and smile-inducing day.

***********

where did all these kettles come from...and more importantly, what's a kettle?

geology lesson here.

quad quake...

(...or, how i ran the orcas island 25K and limped to tell about it.)

"dude. beer me."

ow.

ow ow ow...

my legs hurt.

going up the stairs is tolerable, but going down, there's an explosion in every step.

level ground. that works best.

***********

james varner, by all accounts, is a nice guy.

the race director for rainshadow running events stands there in the pre-race briefing, smiling, joking, looking a bit like jerry seinfeld. at the end of his races he waits at the finish line, smiling, laughing, high-fiving the finishers as they pass.

and then there's the after-party. food, beer, and music galore.

by almost any definition and perspective, it's impossible not to like james varner.

until you're in the middle of one of his beastly, diabolical courses.

at which point it's possible to believe that maybe ~ just maybe ~ james has a dark side.

***********

the start to the 2014 orcas island 25k was innocuous enough. so much so, in fact, i didn't even know it was happening. one moment we were standing there chatting, the next we were all, "hey, we've started!" cue frantic button-pushing on the garmin and walk-shuffle into a run.

for the first five and a half miles or so, we were treated to a nice little jaunt through the woods. the sun was shining, birds were chirping, zipity-do-dah, what a wonderful day. 

right about then someone hit the UP button on the elevator and sh*t got real.

the powerline trail, it's called, and it goes straight up the side of mount constitution. no meandering, no cute little switchbacks...just up. and then up some more. just when you think maybe you've reached the summit, (and someone asks, "is this the summit?"), you give back some elevation then head up some more. beastly.

i kept moving at what i thought was a respectable pace, and by that i mean i was walking up with purpose, rather than sliding back down the mountain.

the whole time i was thinking, "it's good that the trail is dry." add water and one could easily imagine people sliding down the powerline trail like michael douglas in 'romancing the stone.' or arnold schwarzenegger in 'predator.' hell of a ride, but at the end the summit is still waiting, saying "well? i'm not going to climb myself, here, people."

photo courtesy of glenn tachiyama
http://www.tachifoto.net

at mile 10.8 you reach the summit. coming out of the filtered light and relative darkness of the trees, suddenly you're blasted with the brightest sunlight and most spectacular view ever. the shock to the senses is overwhelming, and i found myself staring out at it, completely unconcerned that i was in the middle of a race. i wandered past the aid station, reaching for my camera. i was at the top, and it was gorgeous, and i was going to instagram it, by god. "at the top!" the caption read, and i could've added a few more exclamation points without shame.

i don't know how long i stood there, soaking it up, but i know i could have stood there much longer. it was a race, though, so eventually it occurred to me that it was time to go. 

right about then, somebody hit the DOWN button.

logically, going down the mountain should be the easy part, because gravity. but the fact is, unless you're prepared to release the brakes (and risk a long, ugly faceplant to the bottom of the trail), going down is where the damage happens. legs that worked so hard going up now are asked to move you along quickly but with at least a smidge of control.

for four miles there was a blur of down. my sense was that we were passing some of the most beautiful parts of the trail...but i never felt safe enough to look up and look around. in my mind there's a strong correlation between looking up and faceplanting. and while my face is no work of art, i prefer to keep its pieces where they belong. 

yes, i could've stopped to look around. but i didn't. i was actually enjoying the trip down...it was going quickly and i was in a good rhythm, moving well. the woman ahead of me (hi, Jess from bozeman!) was struggling a bit with the control part. i mean, yes she was ahead of me, but she was right on the hairy edge around every turn, every switchback, every bit of loose trail. "this is it, she's gonna bite it," i thought several times. but several times she pinwheeled her arms, made an adjustment on the fly, and stayed upright.

until the time she didn't. down she went, boom, right in front of me. thankfully, no faceplant, but she hit hard and rolled. my first and only thought was to help her up, ("no one gets left behind on my watch!"), and in the process i nearly fell over top of her. 

we got her to her feet, shaken not stirred, and continued on. the bottom was approaching, and we assumed at that point we'd be done. we weren't.

the finish line is not immediately at the bottom (looks up, screams "varner!!"). instead, it's about a mile further up the road. rolling single-track trail that's a relief from the steady up or nonstop down, but challenging nonetheless. "there's still a ways to go," said a veteran of this rodeo. "stay patient!"

i was staying patient, because it was right about then that the cramp hit me in the left thigh. it was actually running up the inside of the leg from the knee, and i'd never experienced such a thing before. "it'll pass," i insisted. "it'll pass it'll pass it'll pass..." eventually it passed...but i could still feel it days later.

the rest was uneventful, unless you count high-fiving james at the finish line. which i totally do. 

thanks, james. and right back atcha.

***********

orcas island 25 k (actually 15.8 miles)

3:15:25
5/43 (50-59)
54/269 (overall)

threat assessment

america is the land of the gun and home of the school shooting.

as a result, i may have PTSD.

i just picked up an email from the principal at my daughter's school, telling parents there was a "shelter in place" alert at the school this morning.

a few words into the message, i was suppressing a panic attack. no exaggeration.

fuck this.

***********

the rest of the story: there was a reported bank robbery in the neighborhood. shelter in place at the school is standard procedure in such situations. all clear was declared at 11:40 a.m.

***********

i just re-read the email. same reaction.

the large impact of the small surprise

Edward: It's just that...very few people surprise me.

Vivian: Yeah, well, you're lucky. Most of 'em shock the hell outta me.

~ from pretty woman

***********

this is no big deal, and i'm not sure why it's stuck with me the past several days.

the first week of december, seattle had a streak of cold weather. highs in the upper teens, lows in the low double digits. for the local homeless, it was a tougher time than usual to be living on the street.

on the way to dropping the boy off at his bus stop, we routinely pass one of these folks, "homeless, anything helps" sign in his hands.

coincidently, in the trunk of my car i had a couple of old sweaters that i intended to drop off at goodwill or one of the clothing donation boxes you see in shopping center parking lots. instead, stopped at the light, i hustled to my trunk, grabbed one of the sweaters, and handed it over to a cold and grateful man. 

i jumped back into the car, the light changed, we drove on.

that's it. end of story. i didn't give it any more thought than that.

until earlier this week. same stop light, same guy. i rolled down my window to hand him five bucks.

him: thanks. much appreciated.
me: you bet...

i was prepared for that to be it, but there was more.

him: i still have that sweater you gave me. thanks.
me: ...
him: ...
me: you're welcome...i hope it helps. stay warm...as warm as possible.
him: doing the best i can.

he lifted a tattered-gloved hand and gave a small wave. i waved, the light changed, and i drove on.

***********

what i was, was shocked. i'm pretty sure i believed, without really thinking about it, that exhausted, desperate people barely hanging on to survival have no excess capacity to recall who gave them what, and when.

maybe exactly the reverse is true: maybe we drive by so many homeless people every day that we stop seeing them as people and just refer to them as visual landmarks. any reminder that these are fellow human beings is an actual jolt.


***********

this is a tired epiphany. i read it over and think, "congratulations on articulating the painfully obvious. what are you, 12 years old? idiot."

it's fucking embarrassing.

and if i really think these are "exhausted, desperate people barely hanging on to survival," then i should be doing more. if he were a dog sitting there shivering on the corner, i'd get out and try to help...why on earth do we do less for people?

i feel ill.

***********

stopped at the same light this morning, the same guy was sitting with his sign at the corner. i grabbed a clif bar and a banana, put my car in park, and ran up to him.

me: good morning. how 'bout a little breakfast?
him: thank you, sir.
me: you're welcome...

reflexively, i almost told him to have a good day. yeah, he's not going to have a good day.

i ran back to my car and jumped in just as the light changed.

he gave the same small wave as i passed by. i waved, and drove on.

***********

up above i said, "this is no big deal..."

idiot.