Canyon Creek, day 1.

Trying not to move at all while driving a mountain highway proved to be impossible. With every jolt, a new surge of pain. The first few hours of my monthly gift are usually the worst, so we pushed ahead. Arriving at the trail, my back was still hurting, but much better than the morning. The pain seemed to be letting up already.

With packs at least ten pounds heavier than usual, we set off. Winter backpacking much colder than this would be a whole lot less fun, just because of the amount of clothing we'd have to take. That and I am almost always guilty of packing too much water. Hello Karen! Snow is water and it is all over the place.

By the time we were two miles along the trail, the painful cramping had traveled up my entire spine. I seriously considered turning back. This was the last free weekend that we were going to have until January, so I really tried to tough it out.

As the girl that usually has to wear really loose pants the first day of her period because even the waistband hurts, the pack's hip belt placed enough pressure on my hips and back that it was just one notch below excruciating.

We decided to set up camp just 4 miles along the trail because my pack hurt so much. I moaned, doubled over in pain in the snow, all through dinner. Being slightly chilled made things worse. They have never been this bad. Worried, Matt asked, "Do you think you need to see a doctor?" If I felt like this at home, I probably would have. (I hang with a heating pad at home.) I'm not usually one to cry, but I couldn't help it. Tears streamed down my face. Why didn't we just stay home? What if he's right and I actually do have something serious enough to need a doctor? I'm out in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest road. We decided that it would be best to pack out in the morning if I needed to. I huddled in my sleeping bag. Just laying down felt better. Mixing a cocktail of Pamprin, Ibuprofen, and snuggling in Down Cave with a hot water bottle seemed to do the trick. Finally the pain subsided.

Tomorrow, the plan is to finish the hike 5 mi each way and return to camp as we left it, with most of the weight in the tent, not on my girly parts.

Turkey Trot 5K

The fog was just lifting as we approached the race start. Not a cloud in the sky. Lucky for us too, since it rained almost 2 inches yesterday alone. It could have just as easily been today.

Alex lined up with all the fast people, Matt and I maybe 10 feet back. This race is always a mess of people weaving all over the place, so I started up with the fasties. The race started with a barely audible "GO!" and we were off. Matt disappeared quickly, but I found that I wasn't being passed at all. The first mile, which I covered in 7:19, felt pretty quick and was actually the worst of the three, as far as how I felt. My heart pounded and I just tried to hang on to my legs. I kept even pace with a little boy, half my height. It was impressive how competitive some of these little guys were. When I came up behind another, he'd turn his head and sprint. A few hundred yards later, he stopped and walked, gasping for air. When I caught him, he'd repeat it. The first boy kept my same pace the entire race, just a few seconds ahead of me.

I never saw the mile 2 marker, but I think it was a 7:35. I wanted to walk, so as a compromise, I slowed to a minor recovery pace. Ok, I lied, mile 2 was the worst. Oh well. Alex was just finishing up his final lap and heading to the finish. I cheered loudly but had no idea whether he heard me or not.

My final mile was easier than the second one, but probably just in my head. Almost done. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can stop, I told my legs. I am so not trained to run 5Ks. At the Mile 3 marker, I hit the lap button on my watch, previous 2 miles in 14:29, 7:15 each?! WHAT? (I later learned that the Mile 3 marker was set out 0.1 mi too soon). On the final turn, I catch sight of Alex. He's shouting for me to finish strong and sprint it out. On the slight uphill grade, I focus on the finish banner, ignoring my body entirely. I sprint toward the finish line, rocket right ahead of the little kid I have been trailing the whole race (sorry buddy!) and spot a woman just a little bit ahead. If you have been following me for awhile, you know that if there's a chick just ahead of me near the finish and I've got even an ounce left, I'm going to try to RUN HER DOWN.
Just moments before the finish line, I've closed the gap to just a few feet. She doesn't notice I'm there until someone shouts out that I'm sprinting up behind her. She picks up her pace just a little (and it looked like it was effortless for her!) and finished less than a second ahead of me.

As I stop my watch, I realize it : I've got a PR. A 28 second PR. I've been feeling kind of crappy all week, and I still did it. 23:20 and an average of 7:30/mi.

Here are some finishing photos for the boys :

Alex, 17:13. (5:32/mi)

Matt, 20:10. (6:29/mi)
Alex won his age group, and therefore a coconut pie. Then there were raffle prizes. He won another pie and a hat.

We spent the afternoon eating Alex's prizes and watching the Packers beat the Lions. This is one of two days a year that Matt is NOT a Packer fan. I almost felt bad for cheering so obnoxiously when my team (read: NOT Matt's) scored a touchdown. I did offer to get Matt some tissues though :)

Pretty awesome day! Tomorrow, we're hitting the trail for some backpacking in the mountains. Pray for snow! :)

(Finish line photo credit : Yoon Kim, Six Rivers Running Club)

Trotting Along....but at what pace?

Turkey Trot 5K tomorrow.

How to choose a goal?

Still feeling a little worn out from the last few weeks.

Got period today. (just glad it isn't tomorrow! I'm athletically useless on the first day)

Enjoying being in rest mode.

I'm totally a long-distance runner. Fast-twitch fibers? What are those?

I don't train for short distances, therefore I suck at them by comparison and never feel prepared.

Not feeling like racing.

Not feeling like racing.

Not feeling like racing.



hmmmm....

What the hell, I'll go for a PR. Might have a crash before the end, but I also might not. Let's find out.

This is me at last year's Turkey Trot 5K :




The expression on my faces shows my enthusiasm for running a 5K that makes THREE loops. Last year, I got a PR and broke 24 minutes. This year, I'm trying to break 23. We shall see. :)

My favorite part about this race? All the completely stoned people that cheer everybody on. Highly entertaining.

Anyone else running a Turkey Trot tomorrow? Do you run for fun with family or friends or do you race it?

Le Déluge commence......

(the flood starts....)

Winter. Depending on where you live, it means different things. Here it means rain, and lots of it. Four months of rain, averaging 6 in. a month equals nearly 25 inches of rain! To put that into perspective, if it were just 10F degrees colder, it would fall as nearly 25 FEET OF SNOW (oh and how I wish it did!!!!!) It rains an average of 20 days each month during the winter.

The dry days are between weather systems and are always freakin' windy. But they are usually sunny. Even though the highs only reach 50F, you will often find me in a sheltered spot of the yard in my bikini soaking up some much needed Vitamin D.

When we get snow, it falls as sleet and doesn't accumulate. This happens only once a year and usually for just an hour or two, if that. Just inland, the hills get snow. It accumulates but often melts on those rare sunny days, since it is warmer inland too.

So...how to train for the Lil Su?

So far today, it has been a steady rain with 30mph winds, gusting to 50mph. Sounds like the perfect day to train for punishing weather, right?

We have no specific mileage goals since we just need the ability to keep on going. Who knows how much of this race will be runnable anyways. We're just going out and running and spending long periods of the day active. That's all we really need. That and an arsenal of warm clothes to take to Alaska.

Today's workout : Running on a sandy trail. Since we don't get snow, we figured the closest thing to running in snow would be running on sand. Sounds funny to train for a winter Alaska race on the beach in California, but it just might be crazy enough to work. I need to get my Achilles and calves used to the loose footing for miles on end.

This weekend, Hubby and I plan to go on a 3 day backpack trip in the Trinities. Hopefully there will be snow to test out my awesome snowshoes.

Mushroom Run 18.5 Mi

Matt and I hoped to get in 10 road miles on Saturday. By midday, Matt had taken a long nap, come down with a fever, and lost all motivation. The wind was whipping and I was feeling less than enthusiastic about running. We decided to go to church and then pick up a movie on the way home, spending the night snuggled under blankets on the couch. We made a frozen DiGiorno pizza, watched two movies and took a soak in the hot tub. This type of day is so incredibly rare for us that it decadent in every way, even though this is what some people do on a weekly basis.

Sunday morning, Matt's mini-flu was over and we were ready to run long. Since the 90 mi week, my feet were still protesting the long effort. The arch of my foot felt tight (plantar fascia) and ached as well as a few of my toes. If we were going to long, I needed a forgiving surface to run on.

"What do you want me to pack for you?" I shouted from the kitchen to Matt across the house, searching for his running shoes. "We've got....", I said, opening the fridge, "...umm..leftover pizza. We're out of 7-Layer Bars."

I decided against the Garmin, since the dense tree cover never accurately measures the distance anyway. We took off slowly. It felt great and super-easy. I didn't want to push myself too much, seeing that I was basically still recovering from the 50K a week ago.

The Redwoods along Bull Creek looked different from our previous visit. It took me awhile to figure out what the difference was, but then it hit me : needles had fallen from the trees with recent rains and that strong wind yesterday. The forest floor was covered in a fresh red carpet. Fall had come to the Redwoods! Interspersed with the needle carpet were golden maple leaves. Some of the ferns had turned white. The poison oak, a bright yellow, almost shouting out "CAUTION STAY AWAY!!". I glanced down at the crimson rash on my thigh: oh yeah, too late. It seems like every time I run a 50K, I get poison oak. I'm hoping the frozen Lil Su will break that streak. :)

Another thing that was different : mushrooms. Everywhere. So many different shapes and sizes. My favorites were neon yellow.

We ran along the north side of Bull Creek and through the Redwood groves until we reached Grasshopper Road. As we climbed higher and higher toward Grasshopper Peak, the trees got smaller and more spindly. Then they switched to Madrone, Oak, and Maple. Long, green streamers hung from their branches. Old Man's Beard, I think I remember that being called. So plentiful in color and quantity, it almost looked as someone had tried to drown the trees in Silly String.

The climb to halfway along our run was really slow. Reduced to a brisk walk, it was incredibly enjoyable. We thought back to our first run in this park, up the very same trail. That day, we gave it everything we had, complete with wheezing and burning legs. Today, moving at about the same pace, breathing normally, and perfectly happy legs, we recognized the progress. Progress feels good.

When we reached the Johnson Camp Trail junction, we headed back down. This is absolutely my favorite trail in the park. I love running down it, for a few reasons: 1. No toe bashing on the gentle downhill. 2. Views just keep getting better and better as the trees grow larger and more lush. 3. There are few tree roots so I can enjoy those views. Today, it also happened to signal that the toughest part of the run was over. Only moderate climbs near the end, otherwise it was downhill or flat.

We stopped a few miles into the descent, taking in a snack.

I've never run with leftover pizza before, but oh my!, it was pretty amazing. I had accidentally put warm water in Matt's backpack, so when I removed the pizza from next to the bladder, it was warm. AWESOME!!! After a granola bar and some fruit snacks, something REAL sounded downright heavenly. As we started running again moments later, we thought of other things we should try. Matt thought it would be fun to wrap tacos in some chemical hand warmers and run the Lil Su with those. He also suggested the ice cream Snickers bars. Wouldn't be as hard to eat as the real Snickers. Not sure how my body runs on ice cream though. We've tried many different types of fuel, some more successful than others. My least favorite is anything that is sticky or requires a lot of chewing. I almost choked on Rice Krispie Bar pieces on one run when breathing and swallowing were happening down the wrong tubes.

With pizza sauce still smeared on my face (I never claimed to be a dainty eater), we came upon a few hikers. Two middle-aged hikers, appearing to have stopped for a beer break. As one took a swig, he asked, "Did you come all the way from Johnson Camp?" "Sure did," Matt replied, "We came up Grasshopper Road". "Then you've been out here for awhile, huh?" He continued on commenting on how he couldn't believe we were running the trail. Catching us on a downhill section meant that most of the fatigue had drained from our faces and only blissful grins remained. Of course we looked strong running downhill. :) As we continued along the trail, Matt mentioned that those guys probably thought they were badass, hiking in the winter (yeah, at 45F), because as we approached, smug looks fell from their faces as they saw us approach. I don't think that I'm anything special as a trail runner. If anything, I'm freakin' slow. But if they think I'm badass? That's cool by me.

When we returned to Bull Creek, we were worried that time was getting away from us and we were going too slow. Matt had forgotten his watch, so we had no idea of the time other than the camera's time. Matt had to work at 4pm. It was a 40 min. drive. And by our camera's clock, we had 30 minutes to cover 5 miles. Pretty darn impossible, especially on a trail. I ain't no 6-minute-miler, even on my best day. I pushed the pace for the last five miles, took far fewer photos, and just ran. In the last half mile, we had to ford the Bull Creek. Seasonal bridges were now removed. The icy water felt great on my sore toes and feet. I also paused to take a moment and rub down my legs. Maybe that'll keep any new poison oak away. Soggy shoes and shorts (the water came to my waist), it was fun to run on legs I couldn't feel. "No wonder you're running so fast," Matt replied, after I told him that my legs were numb. We made it back to the car at 3pm. Turns out the watch was ahead by over 15 minutes. We made it home just in time for me to unpack the car, load up Matt's lunch, and send him off to work. I hope his co-workers don't mind that he's a little stinky and covered in trail muck. :)

The Math :
18.5 miles.
1,900 ft of elevation gain.
4:18
13:56/mi.


And one rockin' Sunday afternoon!

What's the most unusual thing you have tried to use as running fuel? How did it work out?

Do you feel a little awkward when people are surprised you're out running?

In Case You Missed Something....

After I returned from my Yosemite trip, you endured a deluge of hiking and running posts. Here they are in order:

Golden Trees and the Golden Gate

Outfitted

Two Cities Marathon Race Report

Snowy Giants, Yosemite 1.

Four Mile Trail, Yosemite 2.

Double Dipping, Yosemite 3.

Racing the Darkness, Yosemite 4.

Lifelong Friends

Folsom Point 50K (on a whim) Race Report

Folsom Point 50K (on a whim) Race Report

(November 12, 2011)

Matt had scheduled a shift at his company's Sacramento office. Comparing how things vary between his office and the neighboring ones definitely helps him understanding things. They all coordinate products, so if nothing else, it would be nice to have a face to go with the voice on the phone.

So that left me with nothing to do on a Saturday. I searched for nearby races. Either a trail race on Saturday or a road race on Sunday. I know that with a busy week I didn't want to do more road running. Trail it was. Could I really do a trail ultra after covering 60 miles already this week?

Driving through the darkness, city lights off the edge of the highway cast an glow over the periphery. While Matt was working, I decided to run a trail race at Folsom Lake, just outside of Sacramento. I was the first person in the park, arriving just after 6:30. I wanted to plan enough time to get lost on the way there and still arrive in enough time for the start. Folsom Point was completely deserted when I arrived. I parked the car on the top of the hill and waited. After the disaster at Humboldt Redwoods Half, I wore too many layers and stayed in the car with the heater on. The sky brightened as the sun came up over the hills. The town of Folsom was gradually exposed as sunlight flooded the valley. It is going to be a really gorgeous sunny day, I thought.

By the time I reached the front of the registration line, I still hadn’t decided what race I would run.: 7 miles, 25K, 22 miles, or the 50K. I had spent the whole week thinking about it, my mind was kept repeating the ridiculous catchphrase: go big or go home. But I didn’t want to punish myself by doing too much. My legs felt less than fresh. Completely normal considering what I’d put them through in the last six days. I asked the volunteer at the table, “What’s the course like?” I really could handle something runnable. After a week in the Sierras, I really didn’t want to spend 31 miles dodging rocks and boulders. “Rolling hills on a packed single-track.” I had finished filling out the form, except for the distance. Without giving myself too much time to consider it, I hastily scribbled in 50K. No turning back now.

Moments before the start, I switched on Garmy. An annoyed beep followed: Low Battery. WHAT? I can’t race this without knowing my pace? Overly dramatic, I know, but it did send a surge of panic through my heart. I rushed to the car to stow the Garmin and grab the watch that I keep on my car keys. It doesn’t even have two bands, so I had to put it in the pocket of my water pack. Running on feel? I really didn’t have a choice now.

The first five miles were a struggle, but only because my legs were so stiff from riding in the car all day on Friday. A dozen people passed me in the first few miles. It was a little discouraging for them to pass me so early on. I had to remind myself that I was doing this for fun. Run easy, this isn’t supposed to be a race for YOU. YOU'RE not racing today. One thought that kept creeping back into my mind, When did I become one of those people that signs up for a 50K on a whim? I really have become so much stronger over the last year or two. A marathon used to be a huge undertaking, now I was signing up and running a marathon (plus five miles) without actually training specifically for it. I love having the endurance base to do these things on a whim.

The course was gorgeous, especially for how man-made it all was. The trees were shorter and broader than those I was used to. And there was constantly a view of Folsom Lake. The bright blue contrasted beautifully with the red dirt that held it in place. I never knew where I was on the course until I hit the aid stations at miles 3.5, 7.5, 11, and the turn-around at halfway. With a rough estimate, I believed I was moving at about a 12:00/mi, but the truth could have been anyone's guess.

By mile 11, the stiffness was gone but the slight ache of the week’s activity remained. The other runners and I settled into our happy paces. I was leap-frogging with another female runner. She was more powerful on the uphills and I could really rocket the downhills. I jumped out of the way on the uphills and she did the same for me on the downhills. By the halfway point, I came in at 2h55. This was where I first realized what my pace was. At this pace, I would PR by more than an hour. The course had 2,500ft. of climbing, but compared to Sequoia 50K, the downhills were perfect for making up time. The aid station volunteers halfway through were AWESOME. One volunteer peered out from a mass of silver hair and leathery skin and asked what she could get for me. I asked for a water refill. She took my pack from me, moments later helping me put it back on, in the same efficiency of a Nascar pit crew. It was obvious that she’s been on the other side of the aid station, as a runner. With a handful of Oreos, I dashed back down the trail.

The second half of the race was a little more difficult. The downed trees that crossed the course seemed harder to jump over, the three stream crossings seemed more treacherous, and the hills had somehow grown larger. I hate when that happens.

At around mile 19, I stopped to pull more food from my pack. That was the only real disadvantage to running alone. My running fuel drawer at home is right next to the dish washer. It appeared to melt all my Gu Chomps into one massive sticky fruit snack. That was a challenge to open and to eat. One runner, whom I had passed quite awhile ago, came up behind me. “Are you okay?” I was completely stopped and looking down at the package when he passed. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just can’t get this darn thing open.” He laughed and continued on.

I brought enough fuel that I didn’t have to stop at the aid stations. I made a habit of running the downhills hard and walking the uphills. As I moved uphill, I took a couple of gulps of water and occasionally had a snack. All of my fuel was sweet, from GU gels to fruit snacks and a Snickers bar.

After completely passing up the mile 7.5/20 aid station, the volunteer hollered out, “Are you sure you’re taking in enough?” “Yup, I didn’t think you guys would be this well-stocked, so I brought my own”, as I waved my Snickers in the air. My stomach is sensitive on long runs, so I don’t really like to try new foods.

My arches started to ache, as well as the back side of one of my heels. These aches were normal for really long efforts. It wasn’t until mile 26 that the fatigue got any worse than at the beginning of the race. I reached the marathon distance in about 5 hours. This was the roughly the time it took me to cover my first marathon. Then, I nearly face-planted on a rock in the trail. It jarred my shoulders and upper back. I had to walk a few minutes to compose myself and stretch the muscles out. It would be noticeable for the rest of the run.

Running without a pace watch had forced me to think of how I felt, not how the numbers worked. It turned out to be the best thing for pacing myself. I didn’t really feel fatigued until I got past 27 miles. When I reached the final aid station, 3.5 mi from the end, there were no runners anywhere near me. I paused at the aid station and grabbed a handful of chips. The saltiness was incredible after a lunch of sweet GU and Shot Bloks. The hills were much smaller in the last few miles and I found that I could keep on running uphill as well. The last mile was on the lake’s barrier wall. Completely straight and flat, the footing was excellent. But I was staring at the finish line for almost 15 minutes, it never seemed to get any closer.

When I finally was within the final half mile, the course dipped down near the lake and under some large tangled trees. The branch came out of nowhere because I sure didn’t see it. On fatigued legs, I wasn’t sure how I didn’t land teeth-first in the dirt, but I made it. I really was starting to get clumsy. Good thing it was almost over.

Then I saw the clock, 6:05. When I left the last aid station, I calculated my finish to be around 6:15, but running the uphills seemed to make up some time. As the clock showed to 6:07, I gave all I had. I watched the seconds tick upward. Finish before 6:08, finish before 6:08. A small crowd remained to cheer on the finishers. They burst into applause and wild whistles. Although this course had few spectators, what they lacked in number definitely made up for in enthusiasm.

6:07. A new PR by one hour and ten minutes.

I chatted awhile with the other runners and got a free 10 minute massage. What a fun impulsive day. Perfect way to celebrate my survivorship : two races in one week! Double the fun!

Weekly Foot Mileage : 91.3 ---my highest EVER.
Weekly Running Miles : 65.3---- also my highest EVER.

AND
2 time PRs in one week

AND
Being a six year cancer survivor!

EQUALS
5 PERSONAL RECORDS!!!


(As I was typing up this race report, I got some great news. Katie, a high school classmate of mine that was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma , was treated, and then relapsed, had surgery and was recovering.... well, she got the pathology report back : "Margins were neg. Tumor was 95 percent dead. Bone marrow clean. Lungs clean." What does this mean? She's in remission and it is very likely that she is CURED.)

Lifelong Friends

(November 11, 2011)
Our last morning in Yosemite was wet. Checking out of our unheated cabin in Curry Village in the rain meant one thing : A REST DAY! I refused to hike in the rain and then drive four hours to Sacramento all soggy. That's just the way I felt.

Matt and I met with Neal for dinner. We have been friends for the longest time. Like since he was born. He's three years younger than me, so that means we've know each other for TWENTY FOUR YEARS. Since I'm only 27, that is a really long time. Other than Neal, the only people I have kept in touch with that long share my DNA.

I'm in the green dress (sitting like a lady, obviously). Neal is wearing the white shirt.

I rarely get to see my childhood friends, and when I do, I'm always surprised how strong the connection still is. These friends knew me when I was still discovering who Me was. That type of bond is so different than those I form in adulthood.

Matt and I returned to the hotel for a soak in the hot tub. It was amazing! I really missed soaking in ours at home while we were hiking ourselves silly this week.

Weekly mileage : 60.2 still.

Double Dipping. Yosemite 3.

(November 9, 2011)


I'm not normally a double workout kind of gal, pretty much because I don't like having to get dressed and showered all over again. But being on vacation in a place that I'm not likely to return to helps motivate me to cram as much stuff into it as I can.

Matt and I started our day with cold cereal and (powdered) milk. Then we went out to the car to grab my running shoes. We found this footprint in the frost on the trunk of our car. Oils from someone's paw were left in the water droplets.

We ran from our home at Curry Village along the trail to Happy Isles and Mirror Lake. The daytime temperatures got into the 40s for the previous two days, so almost all the snow had melted from the valley. What was left was icy roads in the early morning. Matt remarked as we ran along, "It feels just like winter running in Fairbanks. Man, I'm glad I don't have to do this all winter long anymore!"

It felt incredible to finally stretch out those tight muscles properly. The only way to stretch them out completely was to do it in the same way that caused the soreness. We went at a really slow pace and stopped for lots of photos.



When we reached Mirror Lake, we were a little bummed to realize that it was a seasonal lake and was nearly dried up. What I did enjoy was the fall color. Beautiful. After weeks of drooling over photos by my Michigan and Alaska Friends, I was finally getting to enjoy them myself. When we reached three miles out, we found another trail that continued on. I was feeling really great, and since we had planned only to run today, why not see where the trail goes? It eventually lead to a trail-closing rock slide area and we had to turn around about 3.5 miles into the run. Running along the decaying leaves, I thought, This is the perfect metaphor for the end to my running year. Seven running miles in just under 2 hours, just to show how much dilly dallying we really did along the way.


After a quick shower and outfit change, we headed out for lunch. Basically all we did on this trip was eat and explore. Matt is normally against anything processed that comes from a can, but it appears that I'm converting him. Some Corned Beef Hash and pancakes and he was practically bowing down and proclaiming me Queen of Campstove Cooking.

Matt seemed to think that the morning run was just a warm-up. And by 2pm, I'd decided that he was right. Besides, what would we do otherwise? We began our hike from the picnic area and headed to Yosemite Falls. Matt wanted to hike to the top of the falls. Personally, I didn't want to use my remaining energy on the same views we had yesterday. But he convinced me that we would only go as far as I wanted.

Yosemite was America's first national park. Every park after this was fashioned in the same way, improving gradually with the addition of each park. I haven't visited a lot of them (maybe 5 in all), but evidence of this park's story is everywhere. About half of the trails are paved. Understandable considering how much foot traffic this park sees on an annual basis. The stone work up and down the trails is incredible. It would definitely have succumbed to serious, irreparable erosion if these measures weren't take. But I have to say, it takes some of the "wild" out of it.


The trail to Yosemite Falls boasts 60 switchbacks in the first mile. Basically it was like climbing a mile of staircase. This trail was pretty quiet, we ran into a couple of school groups and solo hikers, but not much else. If we were to visit here in the summer, I'd surely run screaming into the back country for peace and quiet. But this hike was quiet enough.

We climbed 1,500 ft. up to Cathedral Rock. As we ate our snacks at the overlook, some very persistent squirrels waited for us to drop something. *sigh* Don't feed the wildlife, folks. Completely drained of energy, the break felt good. I told Matt that I was tired and didn't want to climb any more today. I also might have accused him of trying to kill me. :) His reply, in a serious tone, was this : "I'm trying to beat the endurance right out of you!" Well, mission accomplished.

Three miles hiking to and from the picnic area and I was done for the day. Matt and I decided that we had earned a dinner out, so we skipped our plan of another constipating (TMI, right?) camp food and hit the Yosemite Lodge Food Court. Burger and fries, then we split a carrot cake. Maybe more fiber was the key?

We've been averaging nine hours of sleep each night and I'm sure that's the key to what keeps me moving. I have yet to wake up with a racing resting-heart-rate. With what we have planned for the rest of the week, I'm sure I'll need a bunch of next week to recover.

Attempting to hike to Cloud's Rest tomorrow, via Happy Isles. We'll see how much of that 21 mile round trip hike we can handle.

Weekly Mileage so far : 47.2

Racing the Darkness, Yosemite 4.

(November 10,2011, Thursday)

Based on Ewa'srecommendation, we decided to make our longest Yosemite hike to Cloud's Rest. Both of the roads leading into the high country were already closed for the season, so we had to approach it from the valley.

Happy Isles to Vernal Fall

The hike from Happy Isles to Vernal Falls was 2.5 miles of climbing. The first half was along a paved trail, the second, basically a set of rock staircases leading up a narrowing canyon wall. Vernal Falls was absolutely breathtaking. The sound of crashing water on the rocks below the falls was almost deafening. And all the waterfalls are at their driest right now. I've been told that this falls is drenching in the summer and you're supposed to take head-to-toe rain gear and you'll most likely still be soaked.


Again, it was nearly a mile of stairs leading up. About one million individual steps, alright maybe just 500. With the recent snow melt, I'm glad we waited to do this hike later in the week. Monday was probably slick.

In this video is Vernal Fall. You can hear some of the noise it made; weathered rocks at the bottom; ice on the stairs; and a couple hikers that look soooo small.

Vernal Fall to Nevada Fall

I don't consider myself an experienced hiker. I still make stupid mistakes. But hiking popular trails make my confidence soar. Matt and I watched a solo hiker, probably in his mid-20s. As we rested above Vernal Fall, he searched for the trail. A sign for the trail was up a icy slope. Some of the rocks were smooth and slippery, others were jagged. Which way did he decide to go up? Yeah, the really slippery icy slope. Matt and I just watched him find his way, while thinking, don't fall dude. By the time we had noticed him, he had gotten himself stuck on a pretty dangerous spot. Nothing we could've really told him that would help. He crawled his way out of the icy patch. For the rest of the hike, he followed behind Matt and I, watching what we were doing before making his own move.

I am still baffled by the amount of stone work that went into these trails. Nobody hauls these rocks in. They are chipped away right along the trail and then fitted together like puzzle pieces to create stairs. Incredible.

Nevada Fall to Half Dome

I was grateful to reach the Little Yosemite Valley. The miles just whizzed by on the flatter trail. The trail was almost impossible to lose. Every once in awhile, a stone staircase would appear.

Climbing higher, we reached an area still blanketed in snow. The deepest areas were probably 6-8 inches. We also came across bear tracks, laid atop the hiker footprints we occasionally saw. Big tracks and small tracks. Oh goody, a Mama and cub. We never caught sight of the bears, but new footprints were laid above ours when we returned.

We abandoned our goal of Cloud's Rest at the Half Dome trail junction. We had enough energy but not enough daylight, and I didn't really want to navigate the trail below Vernal Fall in the dark.

Just below the steepest part of Half Dome (that requires the use of seasonal cable ladders to summit), we had lunch. Snapping a few photos, chatting, and trying to stay out of the wind. Matt and I talked about our week here. He was glad that we had devoted this much time to Yosemite. I agreed, and added that our bank account probably liked it too. "Yeah, only after we butt-raped our debit card at Sports Basement and REI earlier this week." Details, details. :)

After 4,000 ft of climbing to our highest point at 7,800 ft., this was officially our first hike together at elevation. When I was last at elevation, I was in New Mexico visiting my brother. It was horrible. I made sure to eat a lot and add an electrolyte tab to my water. Seemed to help. We discussed our adventures for next year. We could probably do something in the mountains after all. Possibilities : Tahoe Rim Trail 50K, Crater Lake Marathon. Anybody have other ideas?

The landscape was completely different from the mountains I was used to seeing. A mix of jagged and smooth peaks jumped out. All the mountains had some trees on them. Very unlike the 3,000 ft treeline in the Alaska Range.

Return Trip

I was thankful for strong quad muscles, because it was downhill practically the whole way.

To make up some time, Matt and I jogged a little bit of the snowy sections.

We had dinner at Vernal Fall just before darkness fell. Several upward bound hikers passed by. They were wearing cotton and light coats. No backpacks or lights. I hoped they knew what they were doing. Just as we returned to the pavement section, it was dark enough that I needed a headlamp to see.

Total : 13 miles, 8,000 ft. elevation change, 8h45.

Total weekly mileage : 60.2