Zoey: Update

It has been twenty months since Zoey's cancer diagnosis. The last post I made updating her condition was in January. Things looked grim. We didn't think she'd survive much past that date. But somehow she held on and even improved slightly as the days, weeks, and months passed.

December, 9.5 lbs. Her pre-cancer weight was 12.6 lbs.

In April, I wrote another post but it was never published and instead languished in the unfinished cluster of posts I'm not sure how to finish. Here's part of that draft, dated April 11th:

Pill time is much easier than it was at the beginning. Matt and I have mastered techniques that are different, yet work for both of us and Zoey. On occasion, she'll sink her claws into my hand, but I've noticed that's mostly when she's already having a bad day.

My biggest struggle with her initial diagnosis was the fear that I would hang on too long. The last thing I want is for her to suffer due to my fear of letting her go. We've had enough bad and good days for me to recognize the difference.

On good days, she likes to venture into the backyard and visit the catnip patch. She watches the birds from the window, chirping at them as they pick through the bird seed. She actively seeks out my snuggles. Zoey recognizes the sound of her cat food can opening. She meows impatiently until I can scoop some into the bowl.

Bad days are different. Food doesn't interest her much. She'll have a few nibbles here and there, but it's no longer worth a trot across the house. She's withdrawn and holes up in a quiet spot where she can rest uninterrupted. We've laid a fuzzy blue blanket over our guest room bed for her. It's quiet and warm and she doesn't come out for much. I come in every few hours to check on her and am always a bit relieved to see the rise and fall of her belly as she breathes. Deep inside, I'm secretly hoping that this is the where I'll find her when she finally leaves us.

Since April, the number of good days has steadily improved. When we went to the vet for her yearly checkup in September, the vet noted that her weight had gone up almost two pounds since January. For a cat with an intestinal-based cancer, this is a huge deal. Her coat looks amazing and her spunky personality has returned. Then the vet spoke the word I always hoped for but never expected would come: remission.

REMISSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Could it be? We weren't sure, but all signs pointed in that direction!!! Matt and I took a month to let the news sink in and then we called the vet to tell him we were going to begin reducing her chemo dose. He instructed us to cut it by half. We're ecstatic!

Not only is it a huge financial savings, but I've noticed how she's more lethargic after each dose so I'm sure it will help her feel better too. The vet told us that the first two weeks will confirm our suspicions. Either she will go downhill or she'll feel better. It has been three weeks so far and things have been going great. She's still her loving, plump self.

The "Healthy Housecat" Look. 10.8 lbs. in Sept.

I don't know what the future will hold for Zoey, but I'm thankful for each day we have together. :)

Life Lately: Fall Edition

I'm a runner; I'm a hiker; I'm a mountain and camping enthusiast. I'm passionate about the outdoors and love exploring new and beautiful places. It's easy to slip on those labels because they do, indeed, apply to me. But of course, it's not all that I am. Even sometimes I forget about that because I'm overly focused on things that require the most planning. Today I'd like to share other parts of my life that aren't ordinarily featured on this very outdoor-centric blog.

My Garden
Oh my gosh, I love this little plot of land. When we bought our house almost six years ago, we were torn between two homes in the same neighborhood. This one won out because of the pre-made garden spot. It was perfect for us! We wasted no time planting vegetables, experimenting until we figured out what grows best. Since we're less than half a mile from the coast, temperatures are mild all year long, about 50-60 degrees. Root vegetables and the cabbage family do the best. Before the first major rainstorm that would rot out most of our carrots and potatoes, we plucked them from the soil. Some were pretty darn big.

Chickens
My three hens, Nutmeg, Clove, and Ginger are still alive and well. They molted earlier this month and are finally back to giving us more eggs than we can handle. Another batch of chicks arrived, a dozen meat birds and five egg hens, and they're growing up so fast I can hardly believe it.

This package arrived on my birthday! Yippee!

This is my gal Einstein. She's a silver polish and will have a spectacular head of feathers when she grows up.

Volunteering
When I'm not running a race, I can be found volunteering at it instead. As has been the case this month, it's even more fun than running the race! All the excitement minus the sweat and pain!

Because I'm familiar with the club's old-school timing system, most of the time I'm put on the finish line. I volunteered at two of the kids' (K-8) cross country meets this season. It's so fun and inspiring to watch the little ones compete. Who knows, maybe I'm watching the next superstar's debut race?

Finish line results lady, Pumpkin Run XC Race.

XC Championship Run, helped at the finish line here too.

The club loans equipment to another race, a fundraiser for the local Montessori school. Instead of the finish line, I was put out on the course. This 5K run is all soft beach sand and sounds miserable. The winner barely breaks thirty minutes. I thoroughly enjoyed standing there looking cute while everyone else suffered. :)

The most memorable volunteer experience this fall was at the fall marathon. After I finished up the half, I suited up in my most durable rain gear and went to work. It poured the whole time and was pretty miserable. I didn't chafe one bit during the race, but my sweatpants-rain pants combo created a rough spot I won't soon forget.

Rachel demonstrates the proper level of enthusiasm.

Band Practice
Ever the band nerd, I'm still playing in the local community group. The most recent gig was an apple festival. Holiday quartet practice begins soon and I'm excited to get back into playing with a quartet.

Other than that, I've been knitting, cooking, and reading a lot. Somehow I don't have entertaining photos of those things. Oh wait, I do! CAKE!

Oreo Cheesecake

Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting

That's about it for now. I have one more very special announcement, but I think that one deserves its own post. ;)

What major hobbies/interests do you have that aren't regularly featured on your blog/social media? Any secret interests you'd like to share?

Fall Training Update: Revisions

Remember when I signed up for another marathon? Oh, I didn't tell you? Oops. At this point, training for marathons has become something I do so regularly that it no longer feels special. Much like eating the same thing for breakfast and a consistent bedtime, it's become habitual. While it's comforting to be doing the same thing every season, it's also lacking that sparkle. This time it's another running of the California International Marathon in Sacramento on December 4th.

I truly enjoy the process of training for long races. If I didn't, what's the point? I keeping the training run to race ratio low so months of preparation for just a handful of races makes them more special. Each start line still brings that bubble of nervous energy and excitement.

HRM afternoon.

That said, the races I've run since my half marathon PR in September have been kind of blah. I know it's largely due to it being October, the one big allergy month each year that manages to sneak up and knock me on my ass. I never perform anywhere near my potential and I sometimes wonder why I keep fighting through it when the outcome isn't in my favor. Oh wait, I like it?

HRM Course. So wet.

The key training word I focus on during October is revise. But where do I start? I don't want my fitness to suffer by cutting out too much, but I don't want pound myself into the ground either.

The first change I make is intensity. I can usually tell if I'm breathing too hard and my allergic asthma is bothering me before I even lace up my shoes.

HRM race posse: Me, Ricky, Matt, Brandon, and Rachel.

My first revision day was the Humboldt Redwoods Half Marathon. By mile six, I was struggling to keep my pace below an eight minute mile. That's my marathon pace! Instead of grinding myself to a pulp, Rachel and I stuck together. She didn't realize that she was coming down with a bad cold and having an even worse day than I was until her pace completely unraveled. The whole day was worth it for this perfectly synchronized race shot courtesy of our club photographer. If you scroll down enough to where it only shows our legs, they look eerily similar. Training buddy twins!!

Y. Kim photo.

It was my/our slowest time (1:47) in several years, but by slowing it down and listening to my body, I was able to rally and salvage my training week, making it to just over 70 miles by Saturday.

One day last week, I had a plan to run 4x1mile repeats. After two repeats that felt like death marches and were almost twenty seconds slower than they should have been, I decided to change it up. My asthma seems to be less of an issue with shorter intervals so my day ended up being 2x1mile, 2x1/2mi, and 2x1/4 mi. I ended up with the same amount of speed, but it left me feeling confident in my workout and got the turnover I needed.

If I'm still dragging after shortening or eliminating speed days, I start cutting mileage. I begin by shortening the easy days. Most of them are filler miles that help support my base, not speed building days, so I shave a few off of one run and see how it goes. If I need to do it again later in the week on another easy day, I do. I have to be feeling really terrible to cut my long run short. I've never had to go that far.

Fireside naps with my recovery coach help the most.

As it almost always does in late October, the rains come more regularly. With each soggy run, I can tell relief is coming. Today's run was three minute fartleks (3 fast:3 recovery). It went surprisingly well and made me even more hopeful that I'm on the upswing. November is coming soon, after all. :)

Extending the Season

Gazing up at a cloudless night sky, Matt and I relax by a small fire we've built on the patio. A crispness has returned to the air. Fall is here. After a summer of big adventures in the mountains, I'm  ready for a quieter season. Even though I'm exhausted and looking forward to time at home, there's an equal part inside that wants to squeeze every bit of adventure out of those remaining days.

Inspired by the fall color photos all my Midwesterner friends have been sharing online and one too many fireside hard ciders, we decide to use the remainder of this three day weekend to head inland to the mountains. Since it's just a quick overnight, we can be impulsive, leaving the kitty and chickens with enough food and take off without calling in favors from friends to watch the zoo while we're away.

The next morning is a rush of excitement as gear is pulled from closets, thrown onto the floor, and then carefully squeezed into packs. Over the years, backpacking trips have become so routine that we can get all packed up in about an hour. We feed the critters, make a quick stop at the grocery store, and are soon on our way. Unfortunately, the two hour drive has been extended to three as road crews continue to add dirt and try to stabilize sections of perpetually crumbling mountainsides. It's always an uphill battle you might say, hehe.

It's already three o'clock when we reach the trailhead at Canyon Creek, the one nearest to our home and as a result, often the one we choose for quick getaways like this one. This time, we're motivated by the fall colors. Pockets of golden leaves adorn the otherwise green landscape. Matt is still recovering from the plague he had in September, so today I'm the stronger hiker. Even though he's struggling, he makes sure to tease me about my perfectly coordinated purple outfit.

I do love me some purple.

I power up, chatting along, as he struggles behind me. We take frequent breaks, but my wishful thinking has put me in a too-chilly-for-fall hiking outfit and I'm reluctant to stop for long.

I lead the way up-canyon and eventually the darkening sky grows lighter. The valley walls shrink as we arrive at the first bench at the edge of the forest. Great walls of granite tower overhead and we quickly add a few layers before setting up camp. The considerate sweetheart he is, Matt unknowingly carried up a second down jacket for me to wear. It's funny how long it took him to notice why he couldn't find his coat.

It fits over mine perfectly!

Once the sun goes down, we retreat to the tent at an early time of seven o'clock.

From here, time slows down. The cozy cocoon of darkness eliminates all distractions. This is what I love best about backpacking trips. We have had some of our best conversations in this tent on chilly mountain nights. Tonight, the temperatures will only drop to forty, but it's enough to keep us snug in our beds telling stories until it's finally late enough to close our eyes for the night.

The next morning, nothing but the promise of hot coffee and oatmeal coaxes me from bed. I warm up quickly as I pack up the inside of the tent. A gloved hand reaches a steaming cup of hot coffee into the tent. As I reach for it, the hand (and cup) retreat. I follow.

The return trip, all downhill from here, is swift and effortless. Not twenty four hours after we left the car, we're back. What a perfect little getaway!

The Cowboy Hat

My local running club has existed in some form or another for at least the last fifty years. The non-profit tax ID number was issued in 1980, making it an official organization with both the IRS and Road Runners Club of America. Of the original board members, only two remained, the club treasurer, Bill, and Charlie. Although cancer was eventually the reason Charlie stopped running, he didn’t stop volunteering and giving his opinion on tough decisions at the board meetings.

One of his most notable jobs, one that stretches back at least one decade, was monitoring the course split at the fall marathon. I can still hear his voice. “Full marathon to the left, half marathon to the right!” he shouted from beneath his billowing cowboy hat.

Charlie accepting an award at the club party in January.

Charlie passed away in a car accident last month. As I ran through the final mile of the half marathon yesterday, Rachel and I wondered who would be there standing in his place. When we emerged from the forest and onto the bridge, I was surprised to see the cowboy hat, same as every other time, greeting me.

For a second, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. As the figure under the hat came into view, I noticed it was Harry, the club VP. Instead of the usual, “Thanks Charlie!” as I went by, I grinned from ear to ear. “Thanks Harry, Charlie would approve of your hat”.

From this angle, it almost looks like Charlie.

What a fitting and beautiful tribute to one of the men who made this running club so great.

Mt. McLoughlin and the Sky Lakes

As is frequently the case, the rooster alarm crows far too early. Matt and I fumble around in the tent, wriggling out of our sleeping bags and rolling across the floor. Our new car camping tent, both spacious and luxurious with its built-in lighting system, is quite the upgrade from camping in our backpacking one.

Without having to do the morning shimmy out of our pajamas and into pants, we're able to stand tall and pull them on like civilized people. Our car camping system keeps improving every year, and while I pull on my shirt with ample elbow room, I wonder when I'll give in to the luxury and permanently transition to tent sleeping in campgrounds only and not on mountaintops.

Emerging from the tent, fully dressed and packed, Matt and I busy ourselves with breakfast. Coffee first, muffins second. Since I took far too long deciding on layers for the day, I have to take mine to go. Together with Brad, Matt's coworker, we're meeting two others for our hike up the most prominent peak in southern Oregon. The three of us pile into the car as we make our way down dusty forest roads to the trail parking.

By the time everyone finds their way there, our group has grown to five. Brett, a weatherman from a the neighboring office and Billy, a blogger from the area have joined us. We begin the morning's hike as mere acquaintances. Thankfully, everyone gets along. We climb the ever steepening hill through the trees chatting and getting to know each other.

We emerge above tree line and get our first view of the day. The air nearby has a faint tint of wildfire smoke. Shortly after we leave the forest behind, the trail turns to boulders and peters out. From here, it's up to us to find our way.

Following a trail of orange blazes, it becomes a fun game of who can spot the next one first. We spot other teams climbing up the spine of the ridge, but we choose to climb just below it. We take turns leading the way as we pick our way through the rocks. I've steeled myself for the difficulty of Mt. Thielsen, another peak in the area, but this one turns out to be much easier, with almost no exposed sections to skirt around. I'm relieved.

It's not until I finally sit down with my lunch, at the highest point on the summit, that the first wave of vertigo washes over me. I think of the view of this mountain from Interstate-5.

Taken the previous day while heading south from Grants Pass.

I'm at the top. Yikes. That's really high up. I push all those thoughts aside and try to enjoy the view. We can almost peer into Crater Lake's crater from here. We spot Mt. Shasta to the south. Lake of the Woods is over there. Four Mile Lake, where our new tent, the Palace, is set up is right there.

Group shot, 9,594 ft. above sea level.

Blogging buddies.

On the return trip, I find myself paired up with Brett. He's got some serious ski mountaineering skills and has not only skied this mountain, but has several trips up Mt. Shasta on his resume. I quiz him about climbing Mt. Shasta, skirting around in such a way that I don't really have to tell him that I'm afraid of losing my arm on that mountain. "Can it be done without ropes?" "Without skis?" "What if I were afraid of heights?" "Do I go with a guide?" "Tell me about the glaciers..." He's patient to answer all my questions and by the time we reach the trees again, I'm convinced that should be my next mountain. Silly endorphins, quiet down!

After parting ways with Billy, we make a beeline for the lake, barely pausing to grab snacks and drinks. We dive in. The water is chilly but exhilarating. It isn't until I catch an icy gust of wind that I decide I've had enough. I head for shore and break into the snacks. As I watch the others splash around in the water, I can't believe that summer will be ending soon. I want days like this to last forever.

We say goodbye to Brett and then head back to camp. Since it's only mid-afternoon right now, it's too early for dinner. My and Matt's hammocks are set up. When I offer my single one to Brad, he wastes no time jumping in and dozing off. I cozy up with Matt in his double hammock and we doze off ourselves while the breeze gently rocks us to sleep.

The friends portion ends with campfire pigs in a blanket and a delicious s'mores idea I found on Pinterest. We tuck into bed and by the next morning, Brad is packed up and headed for home.

This was amazing! A+ to the people of Pinterest!

Last view of Mt. McLoughlin on our drive out of Four Mile Lake.

Matt's long weekend still has a few more days to go, so we head out toward our next adventure. We spend most of the day driving and lounging at a campground in the middle of nowhere. The campground host, a very curious and bold doe keeps us company and checks in on us. We're the only campers in this small campground and everything about our rest day is perfect. Matt and I pore over the map and settle on a plan for the next day before climbing into bed once again.

South Fork of the Rogue River, adjacent to our camp.

Nearest to our campground is the trailhead for the Seven Lakes Trail. Judging by the trail map, it appears to be the most scenic option. In addition to the namesake lakes, there's an optional summit if we are feeling ambitious.

The Palace.

Backpack butterfly.

We set off from the car dressed for a run. The elevation looks forgiving so depending on the technicality of the terrain, we might be able to run it. Not ten steps down the trail, we realize that the day is going to be more of a hike. We begin climbing up and over downed trees and count more than 55 trees in the first mile. After that, we stop counting. The going is slow and we soon realize that we've chosen the least used trail (of three, I think) leading to the Seven Lakes Basin.

The trail eventually leads up and out of the trees and for the first time in over two hours, it's runnable. I break into a trot and not two minutes in, my foot catches a rock and down I go. I tear some skin from my knees and left arm. We decide to skip the whole running thing for the day. Why rush?

Lake #1, South Lake, is down below. We pass a few other lakes, discussing our turnaround point. After my crash, I'm sore and tired and unwilling to take on more than our original plan of ten miles.

We pass a couple more lakes before we arrive at our lunch spot. Before we pull out sandwiches and snacks, Matt bandages up my booboos. One of the cuts, the one on my left knee, is pretty deep so he cleans all of them out with an alcohol wipe and I take his photo to distract myself from the sting. It's rare that he's chivalrous and takes care of me like this, so I soak it up. Usually I'm too independent to accept help.

Ouch.

Bacon makes it all better.

We make our return trip, talking about how familiar the area seems to us. It's not until we've talked it through for ten minutes that we realize it's reminding us of our favorite nearby mountains. "Sky Lakes is like Trinity Alps Lite," Matt says. None of the brutal slogs from the highway, yet all of the gorgeous mountain lakes. The people of Southern Oregon are spoiled rotten.

Smoke on the northern horizon.

The slight downhill turn and light conversation makes the miles through the forest pass quickly. Soon we're back at the car with ten dusty (and for me: bloody) miles on our legs. We return to the campground for a quick lunch and goodbye to our favorite campground host.

Mac and dogs, a car camping staple meal.

On longer adventures such as these, Matt and I have started a tradition of camping for several days and then checking into a hotel to spoil ourselves with long showers and a dinner out. Of course, when in Medford, this also means Dairy Queen.

The next morning, we go for a quick run and then head for the coast. Thank you again, Southern Oregon! I love you!