CIM Goals

Choosing a marathon goal is a crucial part of my pre-race preparations. I like to analyze the data and make a goal early in the week. It's sometimes a stressful experience and getting it out of the way early is necessary to helping me relax. Finding a goal this time around proved to be especially difficult. In the past, I've always had a good idea where I stand in terms of fitness. Chipping away a minute or two here and there has been logical.

This is what my calendar had to say about Sunday.

Then I drastically changed my training this summer. Mountain ultras have always been a comfortable place to spend those long summer days. This year, however, I kept my volume lighter and focused on short intervals and tempo runs. What was my mile repeat pace suddenly became my weekly tempo pace (6:50), then my 5K pace.

In training for the half marathon this fall, I ran up to seven miles at a 7:08/mi. in training. The same workout this spring was a huge struggle just to break a 7:25 pace. That summer speed translated well to a half marathon PR, during which I unofficially broke PRs in the 10K, 15K, and 10 mile too.

At this point, I think it's safe to say my previous lack of short distance training caused me to plateau in the marathon, improving slowly from 3:31 to 3:30 to 3:28 and finally to 3:27. So now that I have improved my fitness, my lactate threshold and VDOT both shifting faster, I'm not quite sure what that means for the marathon. Part of my pre-race preparation is analyzing the data. I compare my race times all the charts I can find and then analyze my own training as a whole.

Here's what Jack Daniels said I could run. My summertime training was based off his training formula:

lolol ok sure, guy.

Historically, my times have always been pretty aligned with the McMillan Calculator. Here's what that had to say:

Quite a bit more believable

And finally, my own training. Just as I like to create a training plan before the season begins to see the big picture, I find it helpful to analyze all the data afterward when creating a goal. Here's a breakdown of what happened this fall:

Hiking not included in totals.

While September lacked some of the traditional speed workouts, I think the two long trail races provided a unique twist on fast finish endurance runs. Perhaps those provided an even better training run than the marathon pace workouts on flat pavement. Then as I progressed through October, everything came together in the way that my Type A personality likes the best: two 10 mile runs at a 7:33 pace, each during a 70 mile week. Both felt comfortable and sustainable for a longer period of time.

Is your head spinning yet? After all that, mine was.

Then the second part of my goal making process is to talk it out. Out loud. In front of the mirror. Lay it all out there: fears, concerns, and finally the pep talk.

What it all boils down to is that I know my body and how it responds to the marathon. How it should respond at several different points in the race. If it isn't right, I'll pull the pace back, whatever it is, until I hit the right effort level. That's why I choose a starting pace and don't worry about anything else. Last year's CIM started off pretty rough. I pulled the pace back a bit through much of the first half and surged the last 5K and ended up with a PR. That same savvy helped me run well at Boston this year when it was too hot to go for my original goal and I was one of the few who didn't have a complete blow up.

So here's the plan: I'm going to go out at a 7:40-7:45 pace and see what happens. If I need to slow down a bit, that's okay. If I've got a little energy leftover at mile 22 when I cross the American River, I can pick it up then. That pace should net me a finish time somewhere in the low 3:20s.

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Now for the final part of my race week prep: Forgetting all of that. I've found that the best way for me to keep from getting nervous is to try and pretend I'm not running a race on Sunday. :) Other than the expo, I stay way from all the excitement of marathon weekend. Sacramento isn't quite as marathon-centric as Boston is on race weekend, so this part should be easy.

Wish me luck!

Humboldt Redwoods Half Marathon

Tucked away in a grove of ancient redwood trees, I sit in the car by myself, trying my best to muster at least some excitement for this race. I wonder if anyone would notice if I stayed here for a nap. The only thing that lures me from the car is the fact that I put down cash monies to register for this run. Had it been the spring race, the one where I volunteer and don't have to pay fees, I would have skipped it altogether. This feeling of dread isn't at all surprising given the week I've had.

Zoey snuggles are better than any cold medicine.

I've had a lot of colds over the years, but this one was one of the worst. I literally could not manage to stay awake for more than four hours at a time and spent the whole week on the couch snoozing. My trusty sidekick kept me company through the whole thing. Once I realized this cold wasn't the usual fall sickness, I stopped running completely. I hadn't taken three rest days in one week since I tore all the skin off my knees at the Marquette Trail 50K in 2012. My pre-race fueling included a heavy dose of Nyquil. Yay.

Rachel and I set out for our warmup jog. I'm still not feeling good. After just one half a mile, I call it quits. "There's no point in wasting energy on a warmup, I'm going to need it all for the race", I tell her as she continues off by herself.

When it's time to line up, I take my place near the front of the pack. Due to wildfires south of us in the Santa Rosa area, this race is no longer the USATF half marathon championship. It couldn't be more obvious than by the size of the starting pack: it's half the usual crowd. Thankfully, our week has been full of north winds, so the air is crisp and clear. At least something went right for me this week.

The race begins and my creaky legs are slow to respond. I'm breathing pretty hard through the first mile and when I reach the first marker, I check my mile split. Just as expected, it's going to be a rough day.

Mile 1: 7:27

I focus on maintaining this pace for as long as possible, reminding myself that good or bad day, I can always do my best. Up ahead, I can spot Kristal, one of my club friends. I know she's running the marathon today and that my original half goal is exactly what she wants for her halfway split. I don't expect I'll keep up with her, but it's nice to have a bit of a pacer to know where I stand. I focus my thoughts on running the tangents and keeping my breathing under control. The road weaves its way through the three hundred foot giants overhead. It isn't until I reach the aid station at mile 4 that I realize I haven't seen any mile marker cones. (Course vandals took them).

(Here are my Strava splits instead, which I didn't see until I got home)

Mile 2: 7:07
Mile 3: 7:14
Mile 4: 7:17

Until I reach the fifth mile, I don't realize what is happening. I do quick math in my head and realize that I've somehow managed to speed up.

Mile 5: 7:11

Then there's Kristal up ahead. It's not often I get to run with the club speedsters so I make it my mission to catch up to her. I finally do somewhere just before halfway.

Mile 6: 7:13

She looks over her shoulder and notices it's me. Since she's running the marathon, she's full of energy and super encouraging. "Oh my goodness, Karen! You are rocking it today!" she says. We run together for a few minutes, then she says she needs to pick it up.

A few minutes later, she realizes I'm still there. We play a game of cat and mouse and she can't seem to get away. She begins each surge by telling me she needs to pick up the pace. My legs follow along as she drops our pace into the low 7:00 range.

I'm still there and honestly, I can't even believe what is happening. I need to spend more time on the couch leading up to a race because my body is responding in a way I've never experienced before! My head is still foggy so it almost feels like a dream. It requires extra focus to keep my form and breathing under control, but all I'm thinking about now is staying with her. Had I been paying attention to my watch, I would have probably started freaking out about the numbers I saw.

Mile 7: 7:02
Mile 8: 7:11

We're now making our return trip and I've estimated I'm in fifth place. Kristal finally realizes that I'm not going anywhere and she jokes about how I won't leave her alone. I'm so glad she's running beside me today and tell her that I owe her a huge hug at the finish line.

Mile 9: 7:14
Mile 10: 7:10

After I pass the tenth mile cone, I know I've got a PR in the bag. I could practically jog the final 5K and still beat my 1:38:26 from last year. I notice that it's about here where Kristal begins to struggle. I take the lead and she's content to ride along off my right shoulder.

We have been trailing just behind a man playing music from a speaker on his arm band. At first, I find this incredibly annoying and distracting, but I let my anger fuel my running and try to get ahead of him. He weaves around haphazardly, almost like he's trying to block me from passing him. I pull up alongside him and we run stride for stride through the next mile or so. Meanwhile, Kristal drops back and I don't see her for the remainder of the race.

Mile 11: 7:03

I think back to my training. The half marathon training was anything but perfect. Wildfire smoke forced me to cut out speed work entirely. Some workouts went well, others were miserable failures. My best was a 7 mile run at a 7:11/mi. pace. Since I tend to train better than I race, today's pace is coming as a huge surprise. I'm actually doing it!!!!! ALL!!! THE!!! EXCLAMATION!! POINTS!!!!

I'm getting excited all the while I'm trying not to get too excited. We're not done yet, I tell myself, cool it already. That burst of energy is all but extinguished by the final hill, a bridge over the 101 freeway. Ugh. Shut up legs, we are not going to hit a wall here. Keep going. I slow to a very ugly shuffle. The man with the loud music turns back and calls to me, "Catch back up!! You got this!"

Darn you, bridge! Nov 2016 photo. On the return trip, we go from top of the photo to the bottom.

I crest the final hill and am treated to a nice gentle downhill cruise. I know this hill well and try to pick up the pace as I dash back into the forest.

Mile 12: 7:23

Up ahead, I try to visualize what comes next. Tall trees. Downhill. Flat. Dyerville Road. Bridge. Camera. Finish. As I pass by each spot in my head, I check them off. Less than a mile. Half a mile left.

I spot a familiar spectator in the shadows alongside the road. I see her before she sees me. It's Rachel. She looks down at her watch, looks up, squints, and then looks back down at her watch. She starts screaming for me to pick it up. When I get closer, she asks, "Is this a PR?!" I don't have much to say other than "YUP!!" as I feel a huge grin spread across my face, not really sure what that PR is going to be. She keeps cheering my name as I pass by. I'm still running alongside Speakers Guy when he begins cheering me on by name too. We run side by side as we pull past Yoon and his camera.

Y. Kim photo.

Mile 13: 7:10

It's not until I glance down at my watch at mile 13 that I realize what all my mile splits are adding up to. My watch is still reading 1:33. I dash over the river bridge, round a corner, and get my first glimpse of the finish clock. Not only am I going to beat my 1:38 best, but I've got enough time to kick it in and make it under 1:35. The final straightaway feels like a dream. Is this really happening?

Mile 13-finish: 0:46 (6:12/mi.)

The Wendys read off my name as I cross one of the final timing mats. I reach the finish line and receive a finisher medal from James. Every year, his high school cross country team hands out medals. As he places the medal around my neck, he says, "You're getting fast!". It's funny how the most unexpected people keep track of my progress.

1:34:41
7:12/mi.
6th place (chip timing put one girl ahead of me by 1/2 second)
1st place F30-34

Heading for the water table, I spot Matt running up. He expected me to finish a few minutes later than I did, so he completely misses seeing me finish. I guess I forgive him. ;)

For the next few days, I could hardly believe it. Even a month later, I'm still not sure how this race happened as it did. Maybe that's why I've been slow to write a recap?  What even happened?!  I can't say I didn't earn this PR because I know I put in the work, but I expected the cold to affect me more than it did. When I'm sick, mental toughness is the first thing to fall apart. This time, I know that Speakers Guy and Kristal are responsible. Their encouragement along the way meant everything to me. That and a week snoozing on the couch.

When this run is the USATF championship, a time like mine gets 14th place. This year got me a beer!

October and November: The Lost Months

Okay. So obviously I'm behind on blogging. Let's state the obvious right now. Cool.

I could say that I've been too busy to write, or I've been lacking in motivation, but I don't really know if that's true. I could say that I'm not sure I want to continue this blog, but that's not quite true either. The truth is, I can't quite figure out why this corner of my world has become smaller this year. Without too much navel gazing as to the why, let's catch up instead.

So when we left off, it was early October. Ouch. It really has been a while.

In a nutshell, I've been running, mostly training and occasionally racing. As of now, I have three races I've run and not yet recapped. I plan a full report on the only one I actually raced: the Humboldt Redwoods Half Marathon. The other two were training runs for one reason or another and aren't exactly of special importance.

As the days grow darker and temperatures dip (as much as they can for my corner of the PNW), I feel myself slowing down. Life becomes simpler and more about the comfortable coziness of home than it does about being outdoors. My introverted soul swells and a creative spark heats up. I dive into knitting projects (Christmas knitting is another reason this blog has been quiet), books (up to six so far this month!), and warm fuzzy snuggles with the sweet little kitty who is slowing down for different reasons. I feel the urge to withdraw from social media and selfishly cling to these moments without sharing.

Beach hike and picnic with the Freckles

When I finally emerge from my home cocoon, I realize it's almost December already, an entire training season gone undocumented. I've got a marathon on Sunday and haven't even mentioned that to you. Let's talk about that now.

After the Rogue Run half marathon was cancelled in September, I hit something of an accidental trail racing binge. I thought a bit of non-specific training would throw a wrench in my fall plans, but in fact, it provided just enough of a reset after summer training to make me crave the hard training block ahead.

From the beginning of October to the middle of November, I worked on bulking up the mileage. With the exception of one week where a cold chained me to the couch, I hit seventy mile weeks three times before the taper and averaging in the 60mpw range overall.

Strava says a week is Monday-Sunday, but I go Sunday-Saturday so the first 70 mile week doesn't look like it here.

After I ran the HRM Half in October, I adjusted my marathon goal according to its result. I ran a marathon pace workout each week, bringing the distance up to 10 miles in two of my peak weeks, the third one being the half marathon itself. There was also an additional workout each week, loosely based off of the Hanson's Marathon Method workouts. My body didn't respond as well to these workouts as I would have liked. For some reason I struggled to hit my paces on 2x3 mile @ 7:25/mi days but I could go 5-6 miles straight through at the same pace with no problem.  I assume my body doesn't like to get going again when each two or three mile repeat is separated by a full mile recovery.

This year, the weather gods were merciful and I didn't have to run a single long run in the rain. My three peak weeks included long runs of 20, 21, and 22 miles.  We went out to dinner immediately after one of these long runs and the waiter brought me the tiniest water glass on the planet. I got about a dozen refills.

Not amused. Just leave the pitcher here, thanks.

I also had a couple of really strong progression long runs that rebuilt my confidence. As usual, each of these runs was followed by ten easy trail miles with friends. I love that I've got runner friends at all different paces. These ladies help me keep my easy days at an easy pace. I go to the boys when I want my ass handed to me.

Katrin L. photo.

In between workouts and long runs, I managed to squeeze in a few trail adventures. The most notable of these was a day trip up Granite Peak. Since we moved here, I've made it a goal to stand atop this 8,000 foot mountain at least once a year.

When you drop the boys because they're going too slow, there's nobody to tell you that you've got hot cocoa on your nose. Oops.

We could smell the termination dust in the air, but we made it in true summertime attire and played tag with the mountaintop in 2017.

We even found our entry from 2015.

Earlier this year, I made the decision to resign from my position as secretary of our running club. While this decision was difficult, I knew it was the best for me. Instead, I'd like to increase my volunteer and team-building efforts outside of formal (or chaotic...which would be more accurate) board meetings. Matt and I started an official training run group one day a week. To our surprise, we've seen some new faces and established some regulars.

 

It's one run I look forward to every week because I'm not sure who will show up. This time of year, the run is right at sunset and I'm surprised by how much joy it brings me watching daylight fade away beneath the waves of the Pacific Ocean.

I'm planning on writing up the HRM Half race report next, then quickly moving onto some goals for CIM so expect a flood of posts throughout the week. :)

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What do you do when you're behind on blog posts? Do you breeze through to catch up to the present or do you slowly catch up even if the hike/run/etc you're writing about happened a month ago? What would you prefer I do?

Headwaters 30K

As I kneel down to tie my shoes, my attention drifts from the bruises on my leg to the scabs on my knees and finally down to my feet. It's not two weeks after the Equinox Marathon and I find myself pinning on another bib number.

Earlier this year, when we booked the lookout tower that sparked interest in this trip, Matt found this race. It has been on our radar for years, but in the past it had been held in the heat of summer at the end of August and that was always a deterrent for us. This year, late September proved to be both perfect weather and smoke-free for the first time in almost two months.

Tucked on the far corner of Lake Siskiyou, our race day begins. The sun lazily makes its morning appearance. Honestly, I'm especially stoked to be up and racing again this soon either, but I have agreed to run this race with Matt because he signed up for something earlier in the year that he didn't particularly want to do either. Being married is hard sometimes. ;) A fun day in the mountains with some snacks, sunshine, and a couple hundred of my runner pals? Sure, why not.

My goals closely resembled those from Equinox:
1. Don't fall down. This is not a goal race. I've got work to do this fall, it can't include an injury.
2. Beat my 30K PR: 3:52:57
3. DON'T FALL DOWN.
4. Take pictures, eat snacks, soak up sunshine.

I try to take a place in line that is a little bit further back than I normally would go. I'm still in recovery mode, I tell myself. That works for all of ten minutes before I'm suddenly dashing up a hill chasing running pal, Ricky.

Lead runners ahead on the dry lake bed. This wasn't especially fun to run on. In red is Matt.

I try to force myself to ease up a bit, but the only way I seem to manage that is if I stop to take pictures. Luckily, the lake looks especially pretty today so I pull to the side of the trail as numerous runners pass by.

Then the climbing begins. I admit that I didn't really do my homework on the course before I signed up. It wasn't until the night before that I finally took a look at it. The most important thing I noted that most of the climbing was over by mile nine. Okay, that's doable.

Except wow, it's not. Climbing nearly three thousand feet in nine miles is not very easy. Luckily, I'm sort of an expert at enduring the pain of a long, slow, gravel road climb. My legs protest a little bit, but I chalk it up more to the fact that they're still dead from our trip to Alaska. Shut up legs. You're fine. I grab a handful of gummy bears as I pass by the first aid station at exactly one hour into the run. Six miles in an hour? Not too shabby.

Soon I'm all alone. This always seems to happen to me during trail races. The course makes a sharp turn onto a singletrack trail and suddenly I'm questioning where I am. Up ahead, waaaaaaay up the hill, I can see a faint yellow spot. Assuming it's another runner, I charge ahead. Except that charge is basically a hands-on-knees power hike.

I glance down at my watch. Surprisingly enough, I'm almost eight miles in. The climbing steepens to a trail that looks more like something between a game trail and the steep rocky stuff that winter runoff rolls down in the spring.

I know I'm getting close to that magical ninth mile so I press on. I can see the forest uphill growing thinner. More blue sky appears. Please be the top, please be the top.

When I arrive into the full sunshine, I've not only crested the ridge, but I'm on a mountaintop. My reward is a full 360-degree view of Mt. Eddy, Black Butte, Lake Siskiyou, and Mount Shasta. All too often, trail races include climbing for no good reason (I'm looking at you Bay Area!) so I'm especially thankful to whomever created this course.

My moment of euphoria is quickly squashed as I descend off the summit. I look down at the trail, which looks suspiciously like the Equinox Marathon Chute, dropping some 200 ft. in less than a quarter mile. "You've got to be kidding me," I say aloud. I tiptoe down the rocky trail all the while repeating don't fall, don't fall, in my head.

It takes entirely too long to make the descent and a runner with a dog passes me. He asks if I'm okay and I wonder if I'm really moving that slowly. Oh well. At least I'm staying upright.

From here, I'm scanning the side of Mt. Eddy, looking for clues as to where our course will lead next. I know the climbing isn't completely done until mile 12, but it is relatively gentle and runnable from  here.  I catch up and pass several struggling 50K runners, all of whom ask whether or not I'm running their race. When I say I'm in the 30K, I detect a hint of jealousy in their reactions. I don't blame them, fifty kilometers through this terrain would be brutal.

I catch a breather at mile thirteen to take the above photo. This is as clear as I'd see Mt. Shasta for the day.

The course meanders downhill for the remainder of the race, gently at first, and then steeply.

Several friends have run this race before and warned of the very rocky downhill jeep road leading out of the second aid station. Almost fifteen miles into the race, I'm not looking forward to this part at all. Once I reach the technical descent, I try and focus on picking the best routes but the ground is moving too fast for my eyes to keep up. My vision blurs, my foot catches a rock, and I feel myself going down.

Except I don't! Somehow my left foot plants in just the right spot and I remain upright. Momentum slows as I roll to a stop. I wave my finger at my legs. No! No!! WE ARE NOT FALLING TODAY!

The rocks eventually disappear and the course flattens a little bit. Miles sixteen and seventeen are my fastest of the day and every step feels effortless. By the time I reach the final mile, the course retraces the early route of the race and I realize where I am. Only a little bit more, I tell myself. By now, I've begun calculating possible finish times in my head. For some reason, this is always hugely motivating for me to do. I don't know if it's the distraction or the thought of a really fun PR, but I find myself picking up the pace.

Since my Grasshopper 30K course always seems to net an equivalent time to a road marathon, I try to pretend this race does too. It might be true, or it might not. Let's see how fast we can go?

I stumble over the lake rocks one more time and climb a few switchbacks before realizing I'm going to finish well under 3:20. After a summer of 5K training and racing, I'm impressed by the amount of finishing speed I can dig up.

Emerging into the parking lot just before the finish, I change into my game face and make a beeline for the red neon clock.

Bryce Craig Photography

3:16:51
3,200 ft. gain
5th female, 16th overall

1. Don't fall down. This is not a goal race. I've got work to do this fall, it can't include an injury.
2. Beat my 30K PR: 3:52:57
3. DON'T FALL DOWN.
4. Take pictures, eat snacks, soak up sunshine.

4/4!!!!

Matt and I spent the rest of the afternoon watching our other runner friends finish. In all, there were twenty of our local runners present. Many of us wore our club shirts so they knew they were being invaded. :)

Matt had a fantastic finish, taking fourth place with a time of 2:38. Pal, Ricky finished just a few minutes ahead of me and I never did see him again after about five miles.

Bryce Craig Photography

Matt and I both won our age groups so we received metal cups as finisher prizes. We wasted no time checking for leaks in our cups that evening. :)

Mount Shasta and Zoey's First Lookout Tower

As I carry my second armload of kitty supplies, I wonder if other people who travel with their cat bring this much stuff. Altogether, we've got her food, littler box, scratching post, sleeping cube, and bed.

We want her to be comfortable, especially now that her health is declining. For most cats, traveling is a stressful experience, but we've come to realize that Zoey isn't like most cats.

In the weeks following our trip to Fairbanks, Zoey's weight took a nosedive. She dropped a pound in just two weeks and became even more finicky about her food. We weren't sure whether we'd make this trip at all until the very last minute. We were due to leave on Friday and she hadn't eaten more than a nibble here and there for almost a week. On Thursday afternoon, we had salmon burgers for dinner. When she finally ate a full meal, we packed our bags.

We started planning this trip in March with a reservation to a lookout tower. Then Matt found a race nearby. Suddenly, we had a week's worth of adventures planned in and around the town of Mount Shasta.

McCloud Falls

Spray Tan

Earlier in the summer, I made a friend with former Humboldt runner, Linn. She just happened to live in Mt. Shasta and hooked us up with some really great hikes. We visited waterfalls, did some route finding, and stood atop a dormant volcano. It was pretty amazing.

Black Butte

Mt. Shasta from Black Butte summit

To beat the afternoon wind, Matt and I often left our beds before sunrise, adventured in the morning, napped in the afternoon, and then went for a run in the evening.

That seems to be how we travel. If I'm not careful, Matt has the power to wear me out completely and I only make it through two or three days of activities before I can no longer move without massive amounts of coffee.

Afternoon sieste

It was wonderful to return to a cozy bed every afternoon and doze with Zoey. Most afternoons, she snuggled up in my arms and we fell asleep together. At night, we had dinner together. I was surprised to see how the close quarters and extra attention perked her back up. Just the week before, I was so certain the end was near.

Food with a strong odor sometimes revives her appetite too so we made an extra effort to eat meals with her. It also helped keep costs down and tasted better. All homemade: tomato soup, toast, and pesto. :)

She always beats me.

The perfect, crisp fall weather was excellent for exploring. We even got another dose of fall colors. Unfortunately for me, I had forgotten to pack hiking pants and I spent the week battling twenty degree wind chill in my shorts. It ended up working out well, but made for minimal summit lingering.

Castle Lake and Mt. Shasta from Castle Peak

Fall colors!

Shelter atop Castle Peak

Castle Crags from Castle Peak

We moved to the lookout tower halfway through our trip. Without electricity or heat source, I wasn't sure how Zoey would like it. The room, with its large windows, heated up well in the daytime, but became chilly at night.

Family portrait

Moonlit version of Girard Ridge Lookout and Castle Crags

Mt. Shasta alpen glow from the lookout

A look inside

Lucky for us, one of our friends lent us a propane heater. I'm pretty sure Zoey made a new best friend those nights.  When we turned the heater off at bedtime, she snuggled up in her cube or on my jacket. During the day, she explored the lookout platform and bathed in the sunshine.

I spy a budding romance between Zoey and Mr. Heater

BFFs

Matt and I went for a couple runs while we were at the lookout. I had my first rattlesnake encounter on the PCT at Castle Crags and almost died. It appears that my years of jumping over harmless slugs and salamanders prepared me well to high jump over rattlesnakes too. Whew.

Rattlesnake via lots of zoom and cropping. I was not this close.

14 miles of the PCT

The other run was right from the lookout and on the nearby forest service and logging roads. Of course runs from a lookout always end on an uphill, so I was pretty tired by the time we headed back into town.

Exploring near the lookout tower

Our final day was a stopover in Redding to break up the drive home. Due to wildfires along the route, controlled traffic with just a single passing each afternoon made timing tricky. We ended up with two hours of wait time so we had a long lunch at Whiskeytown Lake. Zoey got some more exploring in before we climbed back into the car. She took me for a walk and enjoyed all the new smells.

It was the perfect family trip for us to reconnect. Zoey is still not doing the best, but we sure are enjoying the time we have left with her. :)