No, I am not going to run VHRTC’s MMT100 although after the last couple of weekends I might as well consider it training.
Running sensei said, “Time on your feet and up!” I saluted smarted and started looking for something that was going to get me both. After much searching and Google Earth satellite image hunting (looking for snow) I headed out to Ashley National Forest with the intent of making it to Kidney Lake. Kidney Lake is a 18 mile round trip. No problem, I thought.
Heading up the trail it started off sweet and innocently enough. Then the rocks started. Not little rocks, no, no rocks the size of basketballs+. The picture to the left is one of the better sections of trail. This is the kind of trail that you wonder if it truly is a trail or was it the bottom of a creek that someone had the “ingenious” idea of making INTO a trail. 7+ soul crushing miles later of doing nothing but picking, plodding and praying that I didn’t fall or sprain something Brown Duck lake came into view. It truly was gorgeous; however, at this point I was fried mentally and physically. It took 2.5 hours to get 7 miles. It wasn’t from a lack of trying to go faster it was just the conditions on the trail. There was no way I was going to make it another 2 miles up, and then 9 miles back down to the car. Enough was enough. I spent ~20 minutes at the lake. I soaked my feet and my knees in the cold water and headed back. My watch died ~3 miles from the car.
All told (what I had) it was 2640′ of climbing. With over 5 hours on my feet. 14(ish) miles. I don’t think I’ve ever gone so stinking slow in my life, but…
I came home with all my teeth and no sprained anything!
Approaching the water images of last week were flashing through my head. Don’t tell me I came the way for nothing, I thought. I let Charlotte off leash to let her suss it out. She won’t cross anything even remotely dangerous. She found a spot and waded right across. I followed her path. This repeated itself four more times. At this point the trail was more of a unstable boulder field and straight up. One of the water crossing was actually a waterfall! I was exceptionally grateful for having had something to eat at this point. That could have been really bad. Now, I know that in summer NONE of this water is here, but thanks to the heavy winter snow they got this year and the super hot temperatures it’s water water everywhere. At this point my feet were soaked and we were approaching 10k feet. No big deal, we just kept moving, and my Lone Peaks drained beautifully. Amazing things wool socks and the right shoes. Right up until the trail disappeared. Um….
I pulled out my topo map and compass. I also looked at the gps breadcrumbs I had of the trail. Theoretically the lake should be just over the ridge line. I saw how the trail was suppose to stair step and loop around. There was a big meadow that I started to make my way across. About half way I stopped. Warning bells were going off. This was STUPID. Not only did I not have any surveyors tape with me to mark my trail, but my feet were wet and I had no idea if the trail even started again. Nopenopenope. I turned both baby trail dog and I around, found the trail where we left it and headed back down the mountain.
another rural part of Upstate New York Dad would take us back there as often as he could. We were raised with a healthy respect for the wilderness. Up until a couple of years ago part of his Continuing Medical Education every year would be at the 
the trailhead and headed up the trail. The plan was to do 10 miles round trip or snow which ever came first. When we got to the 2.5 mile mark we got to the creek. You could see where the bridge used to be. With the level snow that they got this year all of the water sources are raging right now. I looked to the other side of the creek and there was a deer. He looked up and down the creek for a spot to cross just like I was doing. We looked at each other and both turned around and went back the way we came. Neither one of us had a death wish. That water is running too cold and too fast to even attempt a water crossing. Well, crap. As I headed down the trail I came across a group of Boy Scouts and a couple of hikers. I told them about the bridge. I think the kids were actually relieved. When we got back to the car we saw a bunch of horsemen loading up to go check the fields for grazing. I told them about the bridge (and the water level). They said thank you and then pointed in the direction they were headed. We chatted for a couple of minutes about other snow free options and they were off. I made a sign and hung it on the gate that you were required to go through.
Thursday I met the Wranglers at the same trailhead Nate had pointed out two days earlier. I have to say this, despite my absolute slowness there is always at least one person waiting at the intersections. I try to keep one of them in view, but sometimes I just can’t go any faster. Charlotte on the other hand, I think, would much rather be with the fast kids especially now that I bought her a cooling coat. However, sometimes letting the fast kids go has its perks. Like when I run up on them and ask them why they are stopped. They all pointed. “SNAKE!” Yep, sometimes it pays to be slow.
marked and we get times and bibs so I guess you could call it a race. Having been out there on Thursday I knew that some of the sections of up were going to be brutal. I tucked myself and Charlotte into the back and watched the fast kids scamper off. Man are they fast! I saw one of their splits just above mine on Strava. His per mile time? 11 minutes. Mine? 16:45. Sigh. Charlotte and I managed to hang with a couple of the Wranglers until the 12k/5k course split.
them. She is an experienced road runner who has just come over to the dark side to trail running. This was her 5th trail run. She and I stuck together for the rest of the course encouraging each other along the way. Team Caboose! It was nice having someone to chat with along the way. She’s a super interesting human with lots of stories to tell. I hope I get to spend more time with her out on the trails.
grater.
Sunday we went out with the Sunday Run group from Park City Running. My plan was to do the 10k route. We were slow, but there was a sweeper behind us who had to keep her heartrate down so I didn’t feel awful about myself. (I lie, I felt awful that she had to wait for me.) When we got to one point in the course there were two chairs and what a view! Wow. A bit into that route the woman I was running with realized that she needed to get back so we truncated our course. On our way down the mountain Charlotte decided to cut a switchback while I went around. Yep, you guess it, I ate it again. We wound up doing a little over 5 miles though.
0650 We both pull into the parking lot having basically followed each other the last 15 miles to the park. As she got out of the car my jaw hit the floor. She was in shorts. It was 40 degrees at the base of the mountain and the top is always at least 10 degrees cooler. I relayed this to her. Thus started the “Sonofabitch” hike. As she attempted to call her husband to let her know we got there I let her know that we probably weren’t going to have signal until we got up the mountain a bit. We took a proof of life selfie, though, that I promised her we’d send him later. This btw is why I normally hike with my spot device it let’s my loved ones know I’m ok. However, it only seems to work when you turn it on (oops).
As we ascended the mountain the clothes that we had taken off at lower levels came back on. I think I must have taken on and taken off my layers at least 7 times as we traversed different climate zones. As we neared the top the temperature bottomed out. Then we came around the corner and got pushed forcefully back onto the rocks. The wind was hollowing.
Mary and I headed jogging down the trail that leads to the fire road. The creeks were raging due to all the rain we’ve had in the last couple of days. We stopped at one of them and washed the salt off of our faces. As the trail widened, ultimately turning into the actual fire road only then did we start to see any people. First it was a trickle but by the time we crossed the last bridge before the pavement to the parking lot a deluge. As we jogged past them in my head I was sorting them by type. Mary turns to me and says, “You were so right.”
1100 Parking lot. We were both rungry. After a quick change of clothes and shoes for me (and a “I need to plan better.” comment from Mary) we were off to lunch. Yeah it was a good day.
I had completely forgot that on Saturday mornings Old Town does their farmers market. The flowers drew me in. There was no way any produce was going to survive a 3 mile run back to the car, but I stopped and smelled the peonies. Glorious! So many flowers have had the smell bred out of them for looks. Maybe that’s why I like them so much. They are flamingos in a flock of pigeons.
My Dad has this little ditty that he sings when he is stressed out. “Slow down you move too fast, you gotta make the moment last kicking down the cobble stones looking for fun an feeling groovy.” Over and over again he would sing it. It wasn’t until I was an adult I realized that the lyrics were wrong and, yes, I still sing it with the wrong lyrics. It’s funny the things we pick up from our parents because when I’m stressed out I always hear his voice in my head singing that song.
We wound up running several miles of trails both within the park bounds and some of the bootleg 4 wheeler trails that follow the high tension lines. Honestly, I don’t know why they just don’t turn it into green space like they do out West, but that’s a fight for another day. The best part was, though, there was not a single solitary thought that went through my head other than what was on the ground 4-6 feet in front of me. Ok, ok, I’ll admit it this was also kind of a problem as by the time we got back to the car I had to take my inhaler (thanks pollen count), but mentally I felt so much better. Both of our moods had improved remarkably.