9: Sore Jello

My shoulders feel like sore jello.

I have never been so happy NOT to have a morning class; in fact, the rest of the week at Fusion of Movement my classes start at 5:30 or 6:30pm.  While not the best fit for my schedule, it's fabulous for those who work a typical 9 to 5 job.

Because I love Dolly, of course.

So my day started instead with a hike; meeting up with Ered.  We had worked on the one year anniversary exhibit to the Granite Mountain Hotshots; he was the artistic eye, making sure I stayed edited.  

See, I WAS right about the trees.

After five months of seeing each other frequently, it hadn't been since fall that we had spent time together.  We decided to hike to the ancient alligator juniper saved by the Granite Mountain Hotshots during the Doce Fire, a mere week before they lost their lives in the Yarnell Hill Fire.  The Forest Service had placed a monument at the tree, and we were both anxious to see it.  According to local tradition, one must be brought to the tree -it's not on a map- and having been there with the King of Athletics of the Central Highlands a year before, we figured it was the perfect adventure to take together.

I lied.  I did hike between 11/2012 and 2/2015.  This may have been one a half dozen times.

We set today as the day two weeks ago; yesterday's snow had melted at my home by this morning.  Ered called and said he had fresh snow at his house; we agreed to meet and check the trail head before deciding to hike.  Driving out from town the snow cover thickened, wrapping itself around every exposed branch and limb.  It was utterly enchanting; I called it "fairyland."  We decided to push on, and found the trail covered with snow, but visible.

Bunnies had gone before us.

Going only from memory, we headed to the tree, slowed little by the snow.  The offshoot trail to the tree would likely be covered by snow, so I used a burned field in distance as a landmark.  I was easily able to see the juniper from the main trail, but the dry creek bed Tom & I had walked across a year ago was now a seven foot wide raging creek.

I considered going barefoot at one point.

We went downstream, finding a spot we could skip stones.  Due to this we approached the tree from behind; and saw the most wondrous thing:  It was breathing.

Steam?  Or was the tree alive?  Of all the days to be there!

Here it is, in all it's 2nd-Largest-Alligator-Juniper-In-The-World glory:

The small object to the left base is a marker commemorating the tree's saving by the Granite Mountain Hotshots in 2013.

Our visit was truly magical.  The snow melting on us, the steam rising from the tree, and rather suddenly, large chunks of snow falling right next to us.  

As if we were being aimed at.  

After one near miss I laughed and yelled out, "You keep missing me, Steed!"  Caden's dad was the only one of the Granite Mountain Hotshots I had known personally, and had sat through many a gymnastics class together, watching our individual children tumble.  Ered and I agreed; all of our hard work on the exhibit had been worth it.  The morning hike was truly perfect in every way; made all the more special when Ered handed me this pink marking ribbon while we stood under the tree.  He had found this ribbon while hiking in the burned area of the Yarnell Hill fire, after all the investigations were done.  Granite Mountain Hotshot Superintendent Eric Marsh had been marking the area with these tagging ribbons earlier in the day before their death.  I tied Eric's ribbon to my backpack, and told Ered it would stay there throughout my fitness quest.  As the curator for Prescott Fire Department, I wrote all the exhibit text; I know full well what Hotshots are required to do for physical fitness.  I'm a long way off from that; hopefully having the ribbon on my pack will remind me "to be, rather than to seem."

Eric, Jesse, Clayton, Carter, Bob, Wade, Kevin, Joe, Garret, Chris, Turby, Scott, Sean, Billy, Andrew, John, Tony, Grant & Dustin.  Never forgotten.

We made the return hike quickly; the rising sun had the washes full and the trail was squishy underfoot.  We agreed it had been a wonderful adventure; the old Prescott tradition of only taking someone to the tree had been upheld.  

I'm smiling because I did not know what Pilates was like.

Waiting until evening for a workout works well for many people; for me, not so much.  I had just enough time to pick up my daughter from school, drop her at home and then head down to Fusion of Movement for a modified Pilates class called Core Fusion, taught by co-owner Sasha.

So many people, it must be easy, right?

Having never done Pilates before, and having just one yoga class under my belt, I was a little apprehensive; especially because I was still sore from the workout the day before.  I was delighted to be greeted by Sara, who had attended the class the day before with me, and who reported that she was also super sore!  That blessed me, knowing I wasn't the only one.  As we waited for the prior class to finish, I chatted with the other women.  They all spoke very highly of Sasha, and relished the workout to come.  Tim Gunn had shown up with me, and I was determined to ""make it work!"

I took this picture after I had collapsed, unable to do another rep.

It was tough.  Real tough.  I must be honest and say I had a hard time modifying these exercises as the modifications required being on a knee - and mine is still heavily scabbed and really sore after falling on Thumb Butte last week.  (I'll show blood pictures, but scabs?  No.)  Maverick the Excuse Monster showed up and told me it was "no good," and I realized the struggle at this point was very real.  My muscles simply could not complete even ONE of the reps in some sets; I began to feel as if I had made a colossal mistake.  "This is why women never return," Maverick whispered.

I had to fight it.  I would not stop.  No matter what the movement, I would find some part of it that I could achieve.  I looked to the lady on my right.  She was struggling.  I looked to the lady in front of her.  She was struggling.  The one in front of me was perfect.  To my right, she struggled.  None of them gave up - they just kept trying.  The music was pumping, Sasha was encouraging - the room of over 25 people kept going, even though only a few did what Sasha did.  Everyone else did what they could-and that was ok.  So I did what I could - and it was ok.

I have never, in my life, been so happy to see a class end.

It's not that it was hard to breathe - I could breathe just fine.  It was a combination of several factors - the music, the motions, the instructions - my brain got a wee bit overloaded.  One of the old neurological symptoms from my head injury.  I kept the car quiet, thinking about the class.  So, Pilates wasn't for me at this time.  That's ok.  But did I ever want to be that strong?  Could I ever be that strong?  It worried me a bit.  I needed to rethink next week's quest - I knew now what I had planned wouldn't work for me...in fact, I would be in danger of quitting.  THAT, I could not do.  I was determined to head home to re-access.