The Rogue Run Half Marathon

This race always has a way of sneaking up on me. I never feel as prepared as I should. Leading up to last year's race, I was recovering from a fall that I took during the Marquette Trail 50K and then I caught salmonella. It was almost a month of running easy miles, if that. Then I ran a PR.

This year's buildup to The Rogue was similarly restful due to its proximity to my most recent marathon.  As Matt and I sat quietly on the bus to the start, I formulated my race goal. Since I am in better shape than last year, I knew a PR was possible if the heat didn't get me. The 8:10AM start was well into the 60s and by midday it was over 90F. My only goal was to finish before it got too hot. Luckily the mostly shady course allowed for just that.

Mile 1: 7:17
Mile 2: 7:28
Mile 3:  7:28

The first few miles passed quickly, almost too much so. Since the first mile included a steep downhill, I wasn't alarmed by the pace. After the first mile, I convinced myself to ignore the splits. Trusting my instincts led me to a solid race last year, I reasoned. After a series of hairpin turns to cross over a busy road, the south Medford Dairy Queen came into view. I debated a detour, but promised myself that an Oreo Cheesecake Blizzard was waiting for me in the afternoon instead.

Mile 4: 7:28
Mile 5: 7:28
Mile 6: 7:35

The narrow bike path never felt overly crowded and I had plenty of room to run. We meandered through parks and alongside Interstate 5. Even though we were close to such a busy highway, it never felt too loud. Once this pathway is complete, it will stretch from Ashland to Grants Pass.  So far, several segments have been built, but they don't connect. With each subsequent visit, we discover that another portion has been completed. The last two miles of the race would be on a newly finished section rather than road.

Forested views were interrupted by the occasional park that the Bear Creek Greenway connected en route to Medford. Each park held a small group of spectators and a water station. I started out the run with just one glass of something as I passed. By halfway, I was double fistin' the aid stations.

(source)

 It was peaceful and quiet, only the sound of my breathing and runner feet, punching through the silence. I've come to realize that my favorite races are those with few spectators. My mind enters a meditative state and I cruise, surprisingly evident in my mile splits.

By 10K, I had narrowly set a new 10K PR (46:23). The completely shaded trail became broken shade and then eventually patches of shade on sunny asphalt. I found myself picking up the pace to run harder through the sunny spots and then slow a little to enjoy the shade. As I passed each of the remaining aid stations, I took a cup in each hand, lifting one to sip and the other to pour over my head. In an effort to keep from shocking my body into an asthma attack and washing salt into my eyes, I poured it mostly down my back. It felt good to be completely soaked.

Mile 7: 7:40
Mile 8: 7:40
Mile 9: 7:36 (Salt tab)

Now that overheating wasn't an immediate concern, I felt the building fatigue eat away my positive mental game. Running a shorter distance PR within a longer race always worries me a little bit. Will I pay for that speed later? I asked myself. Of course not, the other voice replied, you just laid the groundwork for a great race. Don't you dare give it up just yet! 

Mile 10: 7:42

The aid station at mile 10 always has a very enthusiastic crowd. The trail makes a sharp 360 degree turn to cross on top of instead of below a major highway interchange. This curve is always steep enough an uphill that I find myself walking a few seconds. This spot marked another unofficial PR (1:15:27), two minutes faster than my 10 Miler.

With just 5K left to go, I began calculating time in my head. I could run 9:00/mi and still PR. Then at two miles left, it was a 9:30. I don't know if this process provides comfort and inspiration to keep going or if it gives me reason to slow down, but I enjoyed having it fully occupy my thoughts. Sometimes that's preferable to the mounting fatigue.

(source)

I could see an aid station up ahead and became unnaturally excited for another glass of water. My mouth had become dry and uncomfortable. Then I realized that it was the Table of Temptation. Volunteers coyly called out while chasing runners with a donut box. "You want a donut, don't you? We've got beer too!" I shook my head knowing only water would do. Upon my reaction one offered wine instead. No thanks.

Mile 11: 7:51

Like an oasis in the desert, another aid station soon appeared and I took my time at the liquid wonderland. Two waters went inside, one was poured on the outside. Leaving a wet trail of splashes and footprints behind, I trotted away, finally relieved of the mounting heat.

Mile 12: 7:48

With the sun higher in the sky, less of the trail was in the shade. Thankfully mile 12 was alongside a retaining wall for I-5 and provided some man-made shade for relief. I noticed that all the nearby runners were gravitating to that shady spot. Even though most of the racers were local and used to the heat, it seemed to be affecting their race as well.

The thirteenth mile was all about keeping it together. The 10K had started halfway along our course at 8:10 as well, so I encountered few of the shorter distance racers. The ones I did were encouraging and courteous. Starting both races in this fashion was an unusual, but fantastic idea. This race always has superb organization, even better than much larger races I've run. Don't tell anyone, I want this race to stay small. ;)

I could hear the 1:40 pacer behind me calling out to his runners, "Everyone here is breaking 1:40 today". I was determined to keep him behind me. He began announcing names of the runners nearby in grandiose fashion. "John Doe from Medford...." When he finished with that he announced that we had four more minutes of running....then two..... His encouragement helped motivate me to push even harder, which in the heat, was all I could ask for, even if I was still slowing down.

Mile 13: 7:39

Once I recognized where I was, I tried to pick the pace up even further. What resulted wasn't pretty. My form transferred to an awkward loping gallop, but it was somehow faster, so I went with it. A short uphill and a couple turns and there it was: the finish line!

Mile 13-finish: 0:41 (6:48/mi)

The over-strided loping tightened up to my usual finishing sprint form and I raced for the finish line. I was surprised to see 1:38 still on the clock. I ran as fast as I could, my eyes glued to the clock. 1:38: 55...56....57...58...59....

1:39:04
7:34/mi.
F30-34: 4/62
Female: 19/168
Overall: 50/513

Ehh, close enough. :)What a lovely way to debut in the Female 30-34 age group: my first sub-100 minute half marathon.

Matt also had a PR day, finally breaking 80 minutes.
1:19:26
6:04/mi.
M30-34: 2/30
Overall: 11/513

We finished off the day with the promised Blizzard and some air conditioning.

Thanks Rogue Run, you've become a staple in our yearly racing schedule! :)

Us with the race swag

Thirty

There are certain birthdays that signal milestones. At eighteen, you're an adult. Twenty one, you're allowed to drink alcohol. Twenty-five, you can rent a car. Apparently, thirty is another milestone. All through my twenty-ninth year, people jokingly asked if I was twenty-nine for the first time, since this is the age women supposedly say they are if they don't want to admit their age.

The last run of my 20s was spent, where else? with the Redwoods.

I don't think I'll ever be one of those people to lie about their age. My twenty-first birthday was spent shrouded in uncertainty of whether or not the next one would come. To be "29 again" is to diminish the importance of the fact that I'm still alive almost ten years later. After nearly losing my life, I can no longer take the days and years for granted. As my age advances, I know that I've been here one more year. My plan is to be that eighty year old runner complaining about how slow she is.

To celebrate my thirtieth birthday, Matt and I took a long weekend to southern Oregon. We spent a couple nights in a yurt on Lake Selmac and in the Rogue Valley, two of my favorite places.

 Armed with all the board games we own, we created a tournament. Nightly winners were announced and an overall champion was crowned (me!! with a last minute tie breaker round). What I love most about our weekends away is that we have each other's undivided attention.

 

We wandered the quaint downtown shops of Grants Pass, watched the sunset over Lake Selmac, spent an entire evening trying to make the biggest splash in the swimming pool, and cheered each other on at half marathon race day.

Gifts from my sister: kitty pot holder and a new hand mixer. My most recent batch of danishes finally killed the last one.

I'm looking forward to another decade of life lessons, adventures, and love. Bring on old age, haha ;)

Humboldt State XC Invite 6K

Groups of girls in matching uniforms huddled together, team chants echoing off the fog particles in the air. Nearly ten years older than all of these college athletes, I don't know if I've ever felt so out of place.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo credit.

Compared to them, I was the slow old lady. They had coaches and medical personnel, an entire arsenal of resources at their disposal, practically professional athletes. Coupled with the fact that I've never run a cross country race, I could only describe the experience as intimidating. A nervous energy bubbled to the surface as I joined the starting pack. I placed myself with the other Humboldt Track Club girls, mentally prepared to finish dead last. (Someone took a video of the start and you can totally see my nerves in the rigidity of my posture: here.)

The day before, a running club friend of Matt's asked if we wanted to run the local college's home meet. Because the HTC is mostly alumni of this college, everyone that wants to join the fun runs for free. Our performances don't count toward rankings, so it would be uniquely for fun. I chuckled to myself while I pinned on the bib number. Unattached runners were given different bib numbers. Today's number was a leftover from none other than my own trail race. As race director, I never thought I'd get to pin on a Grasshopper Peak bib number, cool beans.

allsidessports.com photo credit.

The race began with a gunshot and I watched the entire pack disappear into the fog. Every. last. runner. POOF. Gone. Even the back of the pack pulled away at a six minute mile. My body protested and I was forced to run my own race alone. You knew this might happen, it's okay. Just have fun, I coached myself.

Meandering through the curvy course, I did my best to run the tangents and was surprised to find the pack splitting apart on a small uphill. Much to my surprise, I caught up and passed a few girls! Maybe I wouldn't be last after all!! With towering Redwoods overhead, a coastal cliff appeared. Tiptoeing over a root section (mentioned in the video above), I was careful not to fall over the edge. With just one foot of tree root buffer between me and a steep washed out hillside, every runner ahead of me took their time crossing this section. 

Mile 1: 7:25

Shortly after mile one, I hit a lineup of girls waiting on the trail. Matt had run the 8K men's race before this one and warned me about this spot. He told me I should check it out on my warmup run. I hadn't, figuring it was better left a surprise. I glanced at my watch as I waited for the queue of girls to pull themselves up the twenty foot wall by a single fraying rope. I asked the girl ahead of me, "Are all cross country races like this?" She shot me a serious and slightly angry look and turned away, ignoring my question. She seemed annoyed about having to wait in line.

This was taken at the 2012 meet, so add two more years of erosion and a rope climb and you get the idea. (source)

I glanced at my watch again when I reached the foot of the wall. Dang, just lost eighty seconds. All hopes of running this race at the 7:30/mi pace I was expecting were quickly erased. Regaining momentum after this brief break was a bit difficult, but I soon found my legs and resumed chasing the girls ahead of me.

Mile 2: 8:06

Approaching the end of the first loop, I ran just behind a girl from Mills College. It was a struggle to pass her. Judging by her breathing alone, I could tell she was putting up one heck of a fight. Through the second loop, I found myself fighting against several more Mills girls. Their determination was admirable and I found myself wondering if I would have enjoyed the demands of collegiate running. I doubt I yet have the courage to push myself the way these girls do. Even at the back of the pack, these girls were out for blood.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo credit.

"Relax your shoulders", Reed called out to me. Even though he was there to coach his own team, he took the opportunity to offer some coaching advice to me. Not realizing how much tension I was carrying in my arms until he mentioned it, I felt it release. For the remainder of the race, I repeated that phrase in my head. Relax, Karen. You might not be the fastest girl out here, but you've definitely got the endurance to pass a couple more of the late race stragglers. My pace quickened as I gently urged myself along. My running mind used to thrive on tough love, but recently, I've found my body to be more responsive when offered encouraging thoughts. You've got this. 
 

allsidessports.com photo credit.

Throughout the race, I passed several groups of spectators that called out "Go Humboldt!" when I passed by. Even though this was my first time competing with their team, everyone was enormously encouraging and their excitement infectious. I'm lucky if there are five spectators on my running club race courses. I have to admit, I felt a little like a traitor running in a different club's jersey.


Mile 3: 8:56

The pack had thinned enough that there was no waiting the second time I climbed the wall, but it felt like it took the same bite out of my finishing time. I breathed a sigh of relief and felt myself smiling as I pulled myself out of the dirt. This was actually fun! Who knew hurting this badly felt good! A few short moments later, I passed the mile 3 sign. Almost there!

Mile 3-finish: 4:56 (7:28/mi)

As I made the final turn from single track trail to road, spectators once again called out to me. "You can catch the girl up ahead, get her! Eight hundred meters to go!"  I tried with all my power to catch up to her, but I could tell that my kick was still recovering from the marathon. I smiled for the photographer and then crossed the finish line well ahead of last place with my very first 6K PR.

allsidessports.com photo credit.

29:24
7:53/mi.
50th place (of 58)

Matt ran the guys' 8K race, finishing in 30:32, a 6:08/mi pace, and 47th of 52 runners.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo credit.

Fall Trail Season

After a bit of a whirlwind summer, life on the coast has finally calmed down. Marathon recovery is nearly complete and I am looking forward to a fall of racing and trail adventures. Matt and I like to alternate trail and road seasons to keep our minds and legs free of injury and overuse.

Summer is typically our trail season, fall a road one. This year, we've decided to reverse it to take advantage of some trail races we usually miss.  It feels a little odd to not have a big road goal to finish off the year.  That said, road races still make up the majority of my fall race calendar. That's what's most available locally. The only differences are that I won't have a specific goal time for most of them and my weekly long runs will be trail.

Last weekend's long run was our first trail excursion of the season. As is typical of the local trails, it included a nice climb. Compared to most of our trail long runs, this one was short and benign. Matt and I took the pace slow and easy as we chatted about our fall racing schedule and the 2015 edition of my trail race (registration opens Oct. 1).

It was a sweaty day.

As we passed beneath the canopy of towering redwood trees, I breathed a sigh of relief. Trail season equals playtime. We pack tons of junk food, the camera, and a little bit of water and disappear into the woods for most of a day.

So far this year, I'm on track to break 2,000 miles by the end of December. I doubt I'd manage such mileage without a trail season. I know I'd burn out without some quality playtime.  A dangling carrot out at the end of the season keeps me motivated. This year, it's The North Face 50K on the hills of the Marin Headlands. Now that it appears my bad weather karma has expired, I'm looking forward to the gorgeous December day that awaits me. (Nah, it will rain. Of that I'm certain.)

Here's what my fall racing season looks like:

(*= goal race)
Sept. 21: The Rogue Run Half Marathon.*
Since it's the day after my 30th birthday, I'm sort of hoping for the belated gift of a new PR and a strong start in the 30-34 age group. Forecast looks a bit toasty (95F for a high, yuck), we'll see what race day brings.

Sept 27: Enchanted Forest Wine Run.
Half marathon trail run in Oregon. My friend, Nikki, and I are making tutus. She says everyone dresses up, so I don't want to be the weirdo without a costume. The whole weekend sounds like a trail runner camping weekend with s'mores, BBQ, and pretty trails.

Oct 19: Humboldt Redwoods Marathon.
I ran the Avenue of the Giants Marathon in 2013 and mentally gave up a little past halfway. This race is the same course in reverse and my long overdue rematch. As long as I beat my previous time of 3:52, I'll be happy.

Nov 1: Santa Rosa XC 6K.
The Humboldt Track Club runs a bunch of cross country races in the fall. This year, they invited me to join. This is only one of two races that fits into my schedule (spoiler alert: I already ran the first one on Saturday).

Nov 15: Arcata Bottoms 8 Mile.
Running club race with the cows, sheepies, and horses. And probably rain. And high winds...as always.

Nov 27: Turkey Trot 5K.*
This is the largest 5K I run each year. I always find someone to push me to a new PR. This year I'd love to come in right around 21 minutes.

Dec 7: TNF 50K.
Ever since we moved to California, Matt has been trying to convince me that this race is a good idea. Since it is the same weekend as CIM, I was always able to fend him off. Lanore joined Matt's cause and I suddenly found myself hitting the *register* button. Even if it is the crazy hilly mud fest that often visits in December, at least I won't be suffering alone. :) I might just be in good enough shape to finally break six hours.

Other fall adventures:
Rocky Mountain National Park.
We're hoping that our trip coincides with peak fall colors. I've never been to the American Rocky Mountains, so this trip was long overdue. Matt and I are attending a conference there already, so we decided to extend our trip. Any must-hike trail suggestions are welcome.

Lassen Peak.
I'm still hoping we'll find time to summit this pretty volcano. Otherwise a winter snow trip will suffice..... I guess. ;)

Blue Lake 10K

As I stood waiting in the registration line, still sleepy and largely unmotivated to race at all, I couldn't decide which race to run: 5K or 10K. "If you're running the 10K, jump into this line! There's no waiting to sign up for the 10K!" Mj called out from the registration table. I took the hint and scribbled my name on the 10K sheet. At least I wouldn't have to run as fast, I thought to myself.

Since the race started at 9:30, it was almost exactly the same time (9:33am) I finished the Santa Rosa Marathon just two weeks ago. Since Matt's and my running club yearly membership allows us to run thirteen races for free each year, I take advantage of them for a myriad of reasons. Today's effort was merely to reintroduce speed into my legs.

Mile 1: 7:44

I started off at an easy effort, chatting with my race buddy, Bob through the first mile. "You're allowed to beat me today," I teased, "I'll let you." He laughed and pulled ahead of me as I slowed for a steeper downhill my sore quads didn't enjoy. My body tolerated the uphills fine, but descents appeared to be my weakness.

Mile 2: 7:50

My body struggled to settle into a cruising pace. This is always one of the biggest indicators of ongoing recovery. Bursts of energy punctuated a gradually mounting fatigue.  Even though I felt myself slowing on the long uphill portion through mile three, I found it in myself to pass a few struggling runners. Maybe I wasn't as tired as I thought? I reached the turn-around and aid station, waving to Paul guarding the water bottles. The hairpin turn took some of the momentum out of my legs and I struggled to regain it.

Mile 3: 8:08

Mile 4! Downhill!! Wheee!!! A strong fourth mile has always eluded me in 10K races, but the hill was an enormous help. I cruised along, finally relaxed enough to admire the scenery. Blue Lake, although it no longer contains a lake, is tucked in a picturesque valley within the coastal range. Blue green mountain peaks carpeted with second growth Redwood blended into the gray fog and clouds above.

Mile 4: 7:59

The course flattened out and I heard footsteps behind me. From their rhythmic consistency, I could tell the runner to whom they belonged was feeling strong. I glanced over my shoulder to see a tiny woman cruise by with perfect form. Then I recognized the woman: my MD! She's never beaten me, catch up to her, my mind instructed. So much for not racing today. I laughed a little at myself. One moment, I'm running for fun; the next, I'm a hungry competitive wolf. Despite feeling like I was slowing down, my pace began to quicken.

Mile 5: 7:54

She went on to pass half a dozen more people en route to the finish line. I was unable to catch her, but found myself comforted to see Rachele and Bob up ahead. Since I mention them frequently in my race reports, let's put their faces to names. Hanging out with my running buddies is often the main reason I run as many local races as possible.

Mr. Bob. We take turns heckling and beating each other. This year I think he's got more wins on me than I do on him. I need to fix that! ;)

Rachele. She races less frequently, but we're great at boosting each other up mid-race. She ran a half marathon and 5Mi race with me this spring.

Mile 6: 7:48

After one final turn, I headed into the straightaway approach to the finish line. I zeroed in on the 5K runners up ahead, particularly a group of women pushing jogger strollers. A double-jogger-stroller-pushing mama appeared in one of my finish shots last year. Even though I pointed out that I was finishing the longer race, my brother still teased me mercilessly over it.

I laughed a little to myself at the memory. Then my pace quickened. She wasn't going to be in my shot this time. Even though I had written off any chance of a strong finish, it was working! Motivation comes from the strangest of places. Thanks, Chris.

Mile 6-6.2: 1:31 (7:05/mi)

I crossed the finish line with not an ounce of energy left. Mission accomplished, my finish was also free of a jogger stroller:

49:09
7:54/mi

Even though it's just 10 seconds faster than marathon pace, it was a solid workout effort. Contrary to how I've trained in the past, this fall season will officially be a trail season. I have a few trail races planned and many more within the club's circuit. As for goal races, I have two: a 5K on Thanksgiving and a 50K in early December. I'll further detail those plans in another post.

This race also appeared on the local news. With a recent influx of younger runners, the story was a feature in their "Sporting Youth" series. You can watch the video here. The kid interviews are cute. :)

Three Sisters Backpacking, part 4: The South Sister

Back when my life had an unchanging weekly routine, I was a morning person. Most days I was up with the sun, running at dawn. Since my schedule is tied more closely to Matt's rotating one, I find myself settling somewhere between his three shift possibilities and missing a lot of sunrises.

On the last backpacking morning, we were already on the trail when the sun came up. Our day was to include fifteen hiking miles and about two hundred driving ones, so early was our only choice. It appeared we were the second group en route to the top of the South Sister.

When we originally planned this trip, Matt and I assumed that we'd be able to complete the fifty mile backpack loop and nothing more. As my pace quickened and the marathon fatigue left my legs, we began to consider the possibility of climbing to the top of Oregon's third tallest mountain, the South Sister, her summit resting at 10,358 ft. Despite the nearly mile of elevation gain from our morning's tent site to her summit, my body felt light and springy, finally free of the weight of my twenty pound pack.

Light spilled into the valley, illuminating every hidden nook in the undulating terrain. I turned back from the boulder climbing to peek at an ever-improving landscape. I was never one to wait until the top to enjoy the view. Each time I did, a new section turned to day.

Once we moved above treeline, the wind picked up. The very same wind that mixes fog out of the valleys in the morning now threatened to blow us off the mountain. I fixed my eyes on the summit, attempting to pull it nearer with my mind. Before we knew it, Matt and I stood at the foot of the Lewis Glacier near a very icy lake.

Our final thousand feet to the rim was the most difficult and spent picking our way through the scree. The elevation and wind was beginning to wear on me, so we paused frequently to take in the ever-expanding views. Matt's favorite feature can be seen behind him. He liked how the lava beds actually looked like they were flowing recently.

Walking along the rim of the South Sister's crater, we looked for the USGS survey marker, proof of our success. Nearby, tied to a precarious section of loose rock were a series of flags. I didn't feel the need to get close enough for that picture. Hopefully this piece of metal will suffice. Now we'll have to climb #1 and 2 mountains (Hood and Jefferson).

Ahhh, my fourth summit this year. I probably should go for one more later., perhaps Lassen if the snow holds off.

Now that we had earned the panoramic views, it was time to take them in. My eyes fixed on the horizon where Mt. Jefferson, Washington and possibly Hood(?) stood in the distance.

 Once the wind calmed for a moment, I gathered the courage to peer over the edge of the cliff lining the north rim. The Middle and North Sisters came into full view as well as many turquoise and pristine lakes. Matt enjoyed the brown murky lake in that collection of perfect little jewel lakes. I love that we're able to share adventures like this. No doubt our relationship is enriched by these experiences.

 

My fingers dictated our retreat. Ever since our winters in Alaska, several fingers on my right hand are especially sensitive to the cold. When I take pictures outdoors now, I'm reminded how I got frost nip on my index and middle fingers in the first place: photography. Sorry fingers, but I'm afraid you'll never be the same. No regrets, aurora shots and cabin trips forever. 

Lining the rim, several tent-sized rock shelters stood. Matt and I huddled in one for our morning snack and to reapply sunscreen. The views were limited but at least the winds were calm. In preparation for our less strenuous descent, we donned every layer we brought along. For me, that meant my down jacket. By far, the best feature of this thing is the hood, even though it does make me look a little like Kenny from South Park.  It almost feels like I'm cozy in my sleeping bag.

Now in the full light of mid-morning, the scenery looked remarkably different than our ascent just an hour earlier. All the shadows were erased and I found myself pausing more frequently on the downward portion to get more pictures. It was stunning.

My favorite part of the day was this cone/debris. Isn't that cool?!

Even without a pack on, I found my legs growing wary, especially my knees. My legs braked instinctively to keep my pace slow and steady. Finally, Matt and I decided we shouldn't fight gravity. We broke into a slow trot at first and then into a run when the trail flattened out into a smooth pathway. My hiking legs had improved over the course of this trip, but I swear I felt them sigh when we finally began running again.

Broken Top

We broke into a sprint when we saw someone lurking at our campsite. I normally trust people in the back country, but our camp had been quite exposed and unattended the whole morning alongside the  main day-hiker trail (and who can trust those hooligans!?). The man quickly walked away as we approached. Nothing was disturbed. I'm sure the smell of sleeping bags and tent provided quite the deterrent for any potential thieves. 

Farewell Moraine Lake!

Quick to pack up the tent and hit the trail, visions of Dairy Queen began to dance in my head. We decided that if we made it back for DQ's lunch special, Five Buck Lunch, we'd get that too. An Oreo Cheesecake Blizzard mixed with super salty french fries? Oh goodness, yes please!

We stopped to admire a few waterfalls along the Green Lakes Trail en route to the car. Matt considered a swim, but with his pack on, I declared that an unwise choice. Another reason to take a buddy: keep each other from doing stupid things.

and to photograph them being silly

So here's the part in the post where I should add a photo of my DQ bounty. No mountain trip is complete without a delicious ending. I could say that Matt was a jerk and didn't let us stop. Truth is, my lunch didn't stand a chance. Know that it and the Blizzard went quick and painlessly.

Three Sisters Trip Stats:
Four Nights, 4.25 days
56 miles
One mountain summit
One soaking wet hike
Lots of sunshine
Some sun and wind burn
One freeeeeeezing swim in a snow-fed lake
and another set of incredible memories shared with my BFF