The Aftermath of a Canyon Hike (Captain's Log, Supplemental)

The blister on the middle toe of my right foot is stinging.

Like this was sticking out of it.

Poor tootsie.

My external quads are tight, my lower back is minorly peeved and my shoulders aren't speaking to me.

Might have something to do with the weight of eight water bottles I carried yesterday.

My hair...well, I went to bed with wet hair.

That's a rat's nest right there.

I weighed myself, hoping I'd lost about five pounds.

Dang if this thing ain't stuck RIGHT there. 

It's probably because I ate this:

Actually, I ate 1/4 of the steak, all three shrimp and 1/3rd of the mashed potatoes.

Plus two rolls....and two beers.

Anyhow, the King would tell me it was the carbs.

So, no carbs today.

Which means life will certainly be less fun this week, but if I can break under 150 lb for the first time in nine years (knowing I have muscle, too) I would be over the moon.

I could soooo write a story about this moon.

Every step I take today will remind me of what I did yesterday.

It was terribly awesome.

I'll be sore, but I'll love it.  I'll want to brag about it (so unfair that's not socially acceptable), I'll want to rehash it, I'll want to plan another trip there this month.

Because this is not exercise.

It wasn't a workout.

It was a pilgrimage.

"Leave it at the altar," I've heard said many a church service.

I left it in the Canyon.  Among the buttes, the mesas and plateaus.  Down a steep and rocky trail few will ever traverse.  Uncontent to sit and watch the beauty from the rim, I've taken it deeper.  

Inspired by Dotty.

I will always stop for purple flowers.

Yesterday, for the second time, my excitement grew as I neared the Canyon rim at the end of the hike.  There was no desire for the hike to be over; no worry that I'd never get there.  The weariness of the hike mattered little as I finished the task.  

Nothing else on earth compares to this; it is addicting, this soul-drenching excursion to a land that calls me, soothes me and embraces me.

I hate exercise.  I assure you, this is not exercise.  It's exploration.

I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up (although I did plot out some business plans while skimming along a butte.). I do know, however, I must include the Canyon in them.  I'd head back today if I could.

Grandview Trail, Grand Canyon #49

Seven weeks ago I couldn't climb the stairs without becoming winded.

These stairs were not a problem.

Dotty and I planned to leave at 7am, but she forgot she was working until midnight last night.  So her husband Darrin & I agreed she should sleep, and we ended up leaving at 8am.  On a whim, Darrin decided to join us.

I actually met and became friends with Darrin first, back in September 2013.  I met Dotty this past Christmas; we love telling people we met because I was friends with her husband.  

Aren't they cute?

We hit the Grandview trailhead at 10:30am, a little late for a start but HEY, it was only three miles there and back, right??! 

Except the trail looked like this...

Or this (yes, this is the freakin' TRAIL.)

So instead of a quick hike down, we had a very arduous three mile hike.  To a freakin' half a house.

We just did what for this?

As we ate lunch, a few hikers coming back up the trail let us know the view was another 30 minutes up the trail.  Upon hearing that, I threw my boots back on, and dashed off as quickly as I could.  My phone said it was three, add an hour on for this plus the hike?  We'd be done at 7pm and dark!!!  We had to hammer this out quick!

The view

Darrin photo bombing me.

One cannot, in pictures or words, adequate convey the beauty of the inner canyon.  Cliffs and buttes of spring green; a quiet unlike any other on earth.  Addicting like a drug; I need to be there.  There is a peace that blankets the heart and soul; truly the canyon is like no other.

The hike up would be tough-you saw the trail-but I had a sneaky suspicion we might make better time in the trip up. We went very slow, trying to secure footing on the way down.  On the way up, the 1000ft drop off wasn't as big of a deal, and it was a matter of putting on foot in front of the other.

No air monster.

No Maverick.

No Mephistopheles.

Just joy.

Physically, the hike out is hard.  Psychologically, it was exhilarating.

After seven hours of hard hiking, I'm still smiling!

I leave stuff in the canyon.  I carry in my baggage, and leave it behind.  God and I still had some good one to one time, but in general my thoughts replay the past few weeks and plans for the coming months.

There were several, "Oh, S***" moments with the drop offs. The mesa trail was scary!!

We finished up 7 1/2 hrs after we started, emerging on the rim at 6pm.

The Three Muskateers.

We headed over to the Bright Angel Lodge for dinner, and left the canyon at 8pm.

A better day I cannot imagine.

Eight and a half weeks ago, I could not hike Thumb Butte without stopping, and gasping for air.  Six weeks ago I couldn't do it.

I just did my second Grand Canyon hike, with no issues, in the past two weeks,

Maybe there's something to being fit after all?

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.

2: My Secret Crush Revealed

The events of Monday morning were still prominent in my mind as I headed into boot camp at 8am the next day.  Surprisingly, I was only mildly sore for being so out of shape; my hiking the weeks prior must have had some impact.  Not that I was engaged; while I enjoyed the camp, I was far from sold that exercise needed to be a part of my daily lifestyle.  Trudging into the gym, imagine my immediate delight to see my friend Kristen, ready to start the camp.

Kristen helpfully posing for me.

Having a friend to greet me was an unexpected bonus.  I immediately noted how much easier the day's activities seemed with her by my side; after all, I am used to hiking with a partner.  This was the dreaded cardio day, which I had already decided would likely kill me.

It didn't.

I have to admit to surprise - I could breathe the entire time.  Yes, it was hard.  Yes, it took me to places my muscles had never been.  But every time I thought I would need a drink due to my throat closing, Sgt. Steve would stop the set. 

I probably shouldn't start sentences with But.

Mrs. Bohs is probably rolling in her grave.

If she is dead.   I couldn't find her obituary.  So, Blair Bohs, if you are still alive out there, I apologize for starting a sentence with But.  I can see your red ink line prominently struck through it, really I can.  I can also remember sitting right behind Tony McCarthy, who wrote the most ghoulish things and was my antagonist until I developed a raging crush on him.  Not that I should mention that, right?  It was 29 years ago....(OH MY WORD WE ARE OLD, PEOPLE!!!)

This is our sophomore yearbook.  Can you find me?

This was during my "Alien Bond" phase of life.  I was determined to write a Star Trek novel.  Rarely was I seen without a pen in hand; rarely has there been such a struggle to write dialogue.  Now I know you just write and keep on writing; back then I just gave up.  I no longer wanted to write (even though I did.  This will make more sense after you read Friday's blog.  Really.)  Right, fitness.  Fitness Quest.  Not, "oh, look at how funny we all looked in high school" quest.

I'm off track because I really don't want to put up the next two pictures.  It was decided after class that I needed "before pictures" for my fitness quest (thank GOD Almighty Himself none existed of me in the skirt that started this all.  Horrifying.)

Yes, I see my left hip is higher than my right.

Yep.

What really sucks about these pictures is I'm trying to stand up straight and watch my posture.  As you can see, my husband has just reason to hate my thighs (but if there was a third picture featuring my backside, you'd see why he doesn't complain too much, and why I was voted "best butt" at my last job.  Seriously.  Precisely the reason I don't go to Company Christmas Parties is to avoid comments like that.)

After class, I headed to Starbucks to do the "working" part of my job as a media specialist.  I was pleased with my progress after a lackluster first week, and was excited to share my results with Becky, my hiking partner for the day.

Becks & I at the start of our hike.

We chose to hike in the Willow Lake Dells; a fantastic area in Prescott filled with "massive boulders of ancient rock have weathered into delicately balanced forms and fanciful shapes."  It cost $2 to park, so we ditched Becky's car at the grocery store across the street, because, let's be real, two dollars is two dollars.

It had been awhile since I had hiked the "Polka Dot Trail," so named as you are following white dots across the rocks, instead of a traditional path.  We quickly decided that a regular feature of our hikes had to be the "OH MY WORD WE LIVE HERE" picture - as we were so astounded by the beauty of the area.

Of course we have to be IN the picture to prove we were there.

We were about a half mile in the Dells when we came across a man in a trench coat with his dog.

I'm not kidding - a trench coat.

Becky, the proud Mama of four pooches, cooed at the sight of the pup.  The Trench Coat man kept his back to us.  We kept walking...at a much quicker pace than before.

"Are you carrying?" we almost asked the question to one another simultaneously.

This is my gun:

Just like James Bond.

No, I was not carrying it at the time, nor did Becky have her's on her.

Dang it.

We are so blessed to live in the United States, where we have the right to bear arms.  I know many women (and men) who say they never feel the need to protect themselves, and go hiking by themselves all the time.

Tell that to Cathy Sposito, who was killed while hiking Thumb Butte.  Other hikers heard her screaming, but could not get to her in time.  I'd like to think that I'm safe every time I hike, but that would be naive to do so.  Becky and I saw no one else during our hike, in a fairly remote area.  Being armed is just being smart; we vowed to carry our next time out.

Boulder Loving.  Hard to believe my before pictures were taken earlier in the day.

To say we loved our hike is an understatement; we made plans to hike again later in the week and to do a rim-to-rim in the Canyon in September.  Because we live in Arizona, and we can do that.

Plus we are going to make this our career!!I ended up doing two sales calls in my hiking clothes, but because this is Prescott, I actually made both sales.

I ran home and showered, made two sales calls while fairly exhausted and then I ate this:

Organic means no calories, right?

This is a Frau Buchler Nastee Dog.  Divine.

By the time I got home, the dogs had made a mess.  I started losing my battle to stay awake.

Oops!  Time to write.

Fitness Quest: Kickstart Boot Camp for Women

1: Kickstart Boot Camp for Women & My Kickstart

My word.  I have rarely been more nervous about doing something in my entire life.

Walking into a new place, starting a lifestyle change that I wasn't really engaged in...it was tough.  Almost as tough as it was for Maverick to engage in the battle after Goose died.  Really; I can totally relate.

In my prior career, I'd taken some pretty heavy fire.  Now here I was embarking on a new career, and a Fitness Quest to boot.  "It's not good.  It doesn't look good," were words never far from my thoughts.  Hiking was one thing - I've had a 28 year history of loving hiking in Arizona, despite only living here the past four.  Exercise, however?

I cannot stress enough how my dread of not being able to breathe has greatly effected my exercise efforts in the past.  Only a few times have I been able to push through it - only to loose that fitness due to one thing or another.  Once was in college - I ran sprints for the track team - but right after I had the breakthrough in being able to breath, shin splints shut that down.  More recently, in the fall of 2012 I was up to 15 mile hikes in a day; only to have that shut down when my hiking partner left me cold to pursue his own fitness quest.  My last foray into fitness was the spring of 2013, when I began mountain biking with my son.  That ended with a broken foot, by the time it was healed the monsoons had started and the trails were a mess.  This time, I'd committed to a year.

Maybe I needed to be committed instead.  It's freaking dark at 5:25am.

Sgt. Steve's car.  There is no escape.

I had my notebook with me as I walked in; I'm an old-timey reporter in that I like to write things down instead of using voice to text.  My memory is pretty good (I'm a trained historian), and I could tell you some pretty interesting tales...

So I walk in, I'm trying not to look nervous, and I'm looking around at the old Armory gym.  I've always held a fondness for old armory's, this one is no exception.  As my mind escapes the present with a jaunt to the past, I imagine the gatherings of yesteryear; the faded stenciling on the closed window casings sparking my imagination.  I wonder if there is a time portal here and I can escape this exercise? 

The Armory in Prescott, AZ.

Did I mention I love sci-fi?

Seriously, I think this is just the place for a secret bunker to survive a zombie apocalypse.

This is what it looks like inside:

Sgt. Steve is the only guy in the picture.

So when I walk in, no one is just standing around.  They are all power walking laps, which scares me as that means they are focused, fit individuals.  Sgt. Steve comes up to greet me, and is pretty great about putting my mind at ease.  We start with a warm up, just everyone standing in a circle and doing some easy stretching.

I wonder if stretching might have kept my back from tweaking last week?

Probably.

On to the main course:  it's raining this morning (a rare thing in Prescott) and Sgt. Steve announces we are making Alphabet Soup.  For a moment, I think we really are going to eat something.

It is my first day.

He holds up a bowl of individual letters, divides us into three groups and has us each take a turn running down to collect a letter.  When we had twenty letters in our group, we could stop.

I tried to spell VEGAS.  I spelled VOGAS instead.

Once we collected the twenty letters, he handed us a recipe card (for disaster!!! LOL! - sorry, could not resist.)  Each letter represented a set of exercises to do (I about fell over laughing when he demonstrated the fire hydrant.  I was told "Happy Baby" the prior week was much worse.)  As a group of four, we began the sets, my new found friends happily demonstrating the proper form & technique at this early hour.  By the time it came for cool-down, I was glistening in sweat, but had not run out of breath.  My relief had to have been palatable, I was nothing but smiles as I realized I had made it through the first day without a collapse.

I took a few minutes to chat with some campers & Sgt. Steve, and upon discovering he had a 6:45am class, asked if I could stay and observe.  A more "dedicated" group of campers with advanced fitness needs, I found these women to be just as friendly as the group before (even if several of them did have on outfits that coordinated with their shoes.)

OK, never ever Google images for "athletic female" to find pictures of women in matching athletic gear. 

By the time the class had ended, I felt I had a pretty good idea of a day at Boot Camp, and tomorrow didn't seem as scary.  Time for a hike.

It was raining.

I would surely melt.

Cancelling a hike due to weather led to my downfall in November of 2012 - I wanted to hike in the snow, my hiking partner did not.  Although I was gung-ho and ready to go, he put it off to teach a colleague to shoot instead.

Outside.

In the snow.

I never hiked again after that, until Feb. 11, 2015.

This time, however, it was different!  It was raining and I had three more hikes lined up that week.  I would make it work.  Or would I?