In this age of technological wizardry, I am but a technological nobody. Yet, I want to have a blog, and make occasional changes to its format! This blog uses a publishing platform that requires more knowledge of html code and template formatting than I have. That Blogger publishing platform over there, its has been simplified such that even little me can have the best of both worlds.

Please re-bookmark me, and join me over there!

Here is what I've been up to in the last 7 days:
1. a 3-day whirlwind trip to Portland, OR to visit my sweetie's family and friends,
2. the Capitol Peak (Sort of. I only ran 25 miles of the 34 mile race.) Mega Fat Ass Race near Olympia, WA,
3. entertaining company in town for 3 days,
4. playing in Yellowstone with said company to include some up-close wolf watching and some backcountry skiing in knee-deep powder,
5. planning and preparing for the Rocky Raccoon 100,
6. dealing with a major construction project in my yard that included an accidental broken water main and no water inside my house for 2 days, and
7. graduate school responsibilities (Listed last for no particular reason, of course.).

The weather and the trails were equally nasty, but I had SO MUCH fun at the Capitol Peak race last weekend! Despite having packed a carry-on bag full of running clothes for our brief trip to the cold and damp Pacific Northwest, I remained concerned about physical discomfort during the race. My concerns increased upon our arrival to the starting line, as the the temperatures were hovering precariously close to freezing and Mother Nature was providing a full sample of precipitation types for our pleasure, including but not limited to rain, sleet, sleet pellets, hail balls, snow pellets, small snowflakes, and big snowflakes. The combination of cold and moisture was an intimidating one.

All of those tough Pacific Northwesterners stood around like it was a bluebird morning despite the weather, so I tried to act like them. Miraculously, as I did this, I realized that I was warm and comfortable, and that this was going to be a fun day. We met up and chatted with Eric and Michelle at the starting line. At the finish line, we also chatted with a guy we had met earlier this year at the Teton Races. Everyone was fabulously friendly, so thanks for making us feel so welcome in your world!

This year's course was altered due to deep snow at higher elevations, such that the course made a figure-8 that contained an 8 mile loop with 800 feet elevation gain and an 8.5+ mile loop with 1200 feet elevation gain. People ran 8 miles (1 loop), 17 miles (2 loops), 25 miles (3 loops), and 34 miles (4 loops). The 8 mile loop was a literal mud bath that involved slipping, sliding, and sloshing through shin-deep, shoe-sucking mud. The 8.5+ mile loop was a good split between similar mud and hard-packed snow.

I ran 3 loops (25 miles) at an extremely easy pace, and I loved it all! I was covered in mud afterwards, even though I stayed upright the entire time. I'll note that I wore Montrail Odesseys, which I've grown to adore this winter for their persistent grip on snow (and dirt, and rock) surfaces, and they had really poor traction in the mud! I chatted with people (and petted the many dogs that accompanied their owners) for the first 2 loops. I never saw another person during my third loop, though! Those were some quiet miles! The solitude was also nice, though.

I can't help but take a moment to mention clear cutting in the Pacific Northwest. If you ever fly over the forested mountain ranges in the Pacfic Northwest (Or other areas, but clear cutting is especially prevalent in this region.), you can't help but notice the wide swaths of clear-cutted land in various stages of regrowth. During this race, we ran through several tracts of brand-new clear cuts, and it was shocking. Shocking, sad, and disgusting. If you've never seen what clear cutting looks like in person, I encourage you to take a gander over the Internet. It will only take a moment for you to realize that forest management policies that include clear cutting are just plain bad. It's also important to realize that forests don't have to be managed this way, and they just plain shouldn't be. There are numerous other management techniques that are both ecologically and economically sustainable, but we just don't do it. I've liberally oversimplified the issue(s) here, but I couldn't help but mention my thoughts.

In all, it was a great day in the mountains. With that, I officially wrapped up my Rocky Raccoon 100 training. I'm currently enjoying the deep throes of the beloved/hated taper. I can hardly believe that the race is next weekend! I'm excited and *almost* ready. Just 8 more days!

"The good Lord gave you a body that can stand most anything. It's your mind you have to convince." -Vince Lombardi

1. I, again, saw a lone black wolf on this week's long run. It was, again, quite close. Ho-hum, another day, another wolf.

2. My gym is closed for 4 days. What is up with that? How do you just close a gym for 4 days with no warning? Hello, people have workouts to do! I'll be improvising just a bit for the next few days.

3. This past week, I went downhill skiing. Yes, clumsy, uncoordinated me, downhill skiing just 4 weeks from my race. What a daring, stupid act! I had so much fun (And I didn't get hurt, only cold.) that I wanted to go back the next day, and the next, and the next. I now know how I'm going to occupy myself when I'm resting after RR100.

4. We solidified our travel plans for RR100. My mother is my crew and my sweetie is my crew/pacer. I'm pretty sure that my crew will be the bestest! Oh, and after the race, we'll play for a few days in Austin and a week in Big Bend National Park. I'm so excited!

5. In just a few days, I'll start my last class for my Master's degree. I almost never thought this semester would arrive, but I am really, truly almost done!

6. I had a bit of a hip scare, but I think I'm out of the woods now. In my left hip, my tensor fasciae latae seized up tight and sore about 2 weeks ago. With a lot of TLC, I was able heal it while continuing to train. Then, my left piriformis began having issues. I'm happy to report that this issue has also cleared up.

I suppose that's about it for now!

After years of running with my dog June, I have learned to implicitly trust her instincts. And, after years of running in the wilderness, I have also learned that I occasionally can't trust the instincts of wild animals.

During last Sunday's long run, June and I cruised around a downhill corner on a dirt road in the middle of mostly nowhere. As we rounded the bend, we spooked a large herd of pronghorn antelope. They took off running downslope and shortly disappeared. With their quick and erratic movements, the pronghorns excited June. In response, she tugged on the leash and whined with what I interpreted as dog glee.

Once the pronghorn were gone, June still tugged and whined. I looked down at her to see that she was tugging and whining in a slightly different direction from the pronghorn's direction of travel. I extended my gaze and it didn't take long to see what she had long since noticed: a single black wolf, about 50 feet away, standing still, watching us.

I yelled "Hey! Hey! Hey!" and waved my arms. The wolf remained unmoving. I repeated the same actions. Ever so slowly and seemingly nonchalantly, the wolf bent its butt down, pooped, turned, and dropped off the back of the tiny hill upon which it had stood. June and I turned around and headed back up the road. With a little elevation gain, I could see beyond the hill into a white, snow-covered field where the black wolf now stood, still watching us. I stopped for a moment, pulled out my camera phone, and took a photo (Incidentally, the photo is worthless, as the wolf looks like a small black speck in the snowy field.). As we continued up the hill, the wolf come back towards us. For a few minutes, I watched it climb two different hills to watch us as we climbed.

Then, we rounded a bend and climbed through a wooded area, and I could no longer see the wolf. June kept looking over her shoulder, which made me look over my shoulder. I never saw a thing, but, because of June's actions, I suspect that the wolf was still out there somewhere. The several mile run back to civilization seemed to take forever. Out there, I had cell phone service and I admit that used it to talk to my sweetie for a little bit of company.

I had several more hours of incident-less running that afternoon to ponder this wolf sighting. Here is what I thought about:
1. Observing a wolf from that close distance was remarkable. I could see that its black fur was actually mottled with a bit of gray. I also noticed hair thinning on its tail, a sign of mange, the sometimes fatal disease caused by mite infestations on the skin of mostly (wild and domestic) canids. Typically, wolves will actively avoid humans, so seeing a wolf so close was amazing.
2. June acted according to her instincts as she identified the presence of the wolf.
3. The wolf didn't act according to its instincts. As I mentioned above, wolves almost exclusively avoid humans. In this case, the wolf exhibited no avoidance behaviors. Most accurately, it exhibited what appeared to be indifference and interest behaviors.
4. This situation was volatile because the wolf didn't act according to its instincts.

I see a lot of wildlife while I'm out running and otherwise exploring the wilderness. In fact, I sometimes wonder if my blog readers tire of reading stories about these animals. Most of the time when I'm out there, the wildlife is lower on the proverbial food chain than me, and occasionally the wildlife is higher than me on that chain. But, almost all of the time, everyone acts according to instincts, and we all proceed smoothly. I try to operate in the wilderness with a cautious respect for the land, the elements, and the wildlife. I do get scared, though, when an animal, like that black wolf, deviates from its predicted behavior.

Thanks to Jen's original suggestion two years ago, it has become a tradition to recap my adventures at the end of the year. Here is my review of 2007:

January

During this month, I discovered a new athletic love, snowshoe running, and spent a lot of time exploring the trails of Yellowstone and the Teton Mountains this way. My sweetie and I traveled to southwestern Washington state to run the Capital Peaks Mega Fat Ass 34 Mile Race. I also ran the Gallatin Gallop 10K Snowshoe Race near Bozeman, MT.

February

I spent almost all of this month with my sweetie in Costa Rica, competing in The Coastal Challenge, a 6-day stage race, and subsequently relaxing on Costa Rican beaches.

March

I made a big mistake, and March became a bad running month for me. Well, it really started in February when I didn't recover enough after The Coastal Challenge. This lack of recovery spiraled into a myriad of running problems that endured for the next several months. While it took a long time to gain that perspective (and to recover from that mistake), I learned a lot about myself and my body.

April

During April, I began to listen to my body and rest, so I spent this month doing a lot of cross training. Through this cross training, I was still able to explore Yellowstone and the Teton Mountains wholeheartedly.

May

This month, the weather turned warm, the flowers bloomed, and the out-of-doors beckoned even more than usual. This month was spent playing! In addition to the familiar haunts, I made my first explorations into the Bridger Mountains near Bozeman, MT and the Big Hole Mountains near Victor, ID.

June

June started off with a bang when my sweetie and I spent a long weekend in the Beartooth Mountains, near Red Lodge, MT. This month, I pitifully ran the Old Gabe 25K Trail Race (after signing up and bailing on the 50K version) near Bozeman, MT and the Beartooth Hill Climb outside of Red Lodge, MT.

July

I started off July by irritating a nerve in my left foot, which put me out of running commission for a few weeks. At this point, it was becoming clear that, for a number of reasons, this wasn't going to be my season for running well, so I better just enjoy what I was doing. At the end of the month, I rallied to having a great time running the Wasatch Speedgoat 50K and hanging out at Snowbird Ski Resort in Utah with my mother.

August

In August, I had a fabulous time running the insane and spectacular Bridger Ridge Run in Bozeman, MT. For my birthday, my sweetie took me to the top of the very tall Middle Teton in the Teton Mountains. I also began another season of coaching high school cross country.

September

Over Labor Day weekend, I happily labored through my first 50 mile race at the Grand Teton Races near Driggs, ID. I also spent a lot of time coaching high school cross country and enjoying fall in Yellowstone, especially the rutting elk in my neighborhood.

October

October brought more coaching, as well as two late season climbs up tall mountains. My sweetie and I visited winter atop Mt. Holmes in Yellowstone and Static Peak in the Tetons.

November

After several months of mostly maintenance running, I turned up my training volume at the beginning of November for a 3 month push towards my first 100 mile race. Also, my sweetie and I spent Thanksgiving weekend running Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim at the Grand Canyon and exploring a little of Bryce Canyon National Park.

December

December involved training, training, and more training. I also spent Christmas with my family in Mexico.

Alright, I think that about covers this year's adventures! What a great year Happy New Year to everyone!

I've just returned from Mexico, and it was a bit of an adventure on several levels. I'll post a run-down with photos in the next few days.

On another note, the Rocky Raccoon 100 is rapidly approaching, and right now is key training time. My training volume is pretty high. I was moderately afraid of not getting in these important workouts due to all of the details that come along with international travel to an exotic locale. However, I'm elated to report that I did every single scheduled workout! This is something to celebrate!

More coming soon! Happy continued holidaying to all of you!

About 35 minutes into the run, out on a local trail, I came across a fuzzy thing laying in the bushes. I immediately recognized it as a coyote, and it looked dead. As I stood there, though, its ear twitched and I realized it was instead a snoozing coyote. I should have turned around and left it alone, but for some reason, I said, "Hey!" The coyote woke up and looked for the source of the noise in the opposite direction of where I was standing. So, again, I said, "Hey!" This time, the coyote looked directly at me, jumped up, and bolted off towards the river below the trail.

My eyes followed the coyote's movement and then settled on another scene at the edge of the river: a dead elk being fed upon by two more coyotes and several ravens. This elk was surely killed and fed upon by wolves perhaps the night before, and now the coyotes were cleaning up the last tasty morsels. I watched the scene for a few moments before heading on.

About 2 1/2 hours into the run, I came around a corner and startled 2 wolves at close range. One was a mottled gray and the other jet black. They shortly disappeared over the hillside. This was as close as I've ever been to Yellowstone's wolves, though I see their tracks and scat all over the trails. The sighting lasted all of 10 seconds or so before they were gone, but it was an amazing experience.

Then, with about 45 minutes left in my run, in the last little bit of twilight, I flushed a white snowshoe hare from beneath a sagebrush. This hare wasn't the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, if you know what I mean, because it couldn't figure out how to get away from me. This was a rather entertaining and long-lasting encounter.

By the end of this run, all of my grumbly thoughts about work had been overprinted by a reminder that I am very lucky to work, live, and run here in Yellowstone.

Merry Christmas, all! Tomorrow I'm headed out of the country for the holiday. Sigh, another Christmas on the beaches of Mexico. See, I'm such a lucky girl!

PS. You've probably noticed that several things are "not quite right" about my blog's new layout. Well, I really screwed up the layout while trying to install a new template, and I don't know how to fix it. If anyone is good at this kind of stuff, I would love a little help. Thanks!

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

-Maya Angelou

An amazing piece of writing, do you agree? I was recently reading this poem and felt inspired to think about my own life, so I thought I would share it with you all.

For the vast majority of my existence, I have been like the free bird. Mostly, I think that I've consciously designed my life in this way. Occasionally, I am like the caged bird, when life's responsibilities weigh heavily on my soul, or keep me from doing what I wish to instead be doing. In this poem, the caged bird sings because it inherently knows of something beyond its cage, but it does not know what that something is. In contrast, when I feel cooped up and controlled by life's responsibilities, it is precisely because I know how freedom feels.

Over the past 7 days, I completed several of life's responsibilities that were weighing heavily upon me. At this moment, I'm supremely enjoying those proverbial fat worms.

T (And, bless his heart, he went with me JUST TO KEEP ME COMPANY, as he isn't specifically training for anything right now.) and I ventured out onto the sometimes frozen dirt and sometimes snowy Yellowstone River Trail. We saw ice floes on the Yellowstone River, fresh tracks of some unknown small cat (Perhaps a bobcat?), 2 bulls and numerous cow elk, 1 lone bison looking very annoyed by our passing, and a frozen waterfall in a side canyon.

There were times during the run when the wind made the world feel almost unbearable. But there were also times when the sun shone warmly on our faces. Early into the run, as we ran into a bitter headwind, I asked T, "On a scale of 1 to 10, how much are you hating this run?" His answer, "A 6 or a 7." Later on, after watching the Yellowstone River duck under and back out of a sheet of ice covering the width of the river, I asked him the same question. His answer this time, "A zero." In all, it evolved into a fine run.

After a few days of playing in the Grand Canyon, we spent one short day exploring Bryce Canyon National Park in south-central Utah. Bryce Canyon protects and preserves a relatively small area of uniquely eroded and highly colorful rocks. It isn’t a huge national park, but it is definitely what I would call an intricate place. The rocks here have eroded into an infinite display of “hoodoos,” which take the shape of objects such as pillars, grottos, pencils, windows, the Virgin Mary (seriously), a cathedral, and more. Exploring the hoodoos is a lot like picking elephants, Abraham Lincoln, and other random objects out of puffy white clouds in the sky; if you can imagine it, it’s out there. One day exploring Bryce Canyon wasn't even close to enough time to really experience it.

At t-plus 30 hours from completing the Grand Canyon double crossing, we went for a 6 mile hike at Bryce Canyon at an average elevation of 8000 feet above sea level with 1800 feet of elevation gain. The hike was not what I would call comfortable as I was sore and fatigued, more like it was a recovery hike. However, at the time, I was impressed with this accomplishment. As I write this now, I’m still kind of impressed with myself. Last year, I was a sorry cripple who was literally beat walking to a bathroom by a very nice but very elderly woman. This year, I was upwardly mobile!

We began the hike by descending one of Bryce Canyon’s famous trails, Wall Street, which is pictured in the two photos above. Surrounded by nearly vertical walls of orange rock, the trail descended 600 vertical feet through a continuously narrowing gully. The scene was beautiful, remarkable, and a little bit creepy. The bottom of this gully narrowed to a point in which I was able touch both sides with my hands, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of Aron Ralston claustrophobia.

As soon as we passed through this narrow point, the trail opened to a breathable width again. We made a roundabout loop up, over, around, through, and under thousands of hoodoos. At times, the scene was supremely incredulous, and I had to sweet talk my mind into believing that the rock formations are nature-made.

Near the end of the loop, in the last light of day, we passed by another of Bryce Canyon’s famous features, Thor’s Hammer, which is pictured above. It’s a cool hoodoo, and T was feeling kind of feisty. He lined up Thor’s Hammer and I just perfectly and took a picture that looks like I’m either kissing or licking Thor’s Hammer. The photo was amusing and I giggled, and it was a fun way to end the hike.

So, in lieu of having to concentrate on working hard, I let my mind wander around my various body pieces, taking stock of my physical situation. First, I noticed my ankle. I was feeling decent discomfort when my foot landed on surfaces that caused it to evert (Note: I think I had a minor eversion sprain in that ankle. It would later become fairly bruised and swollen. Today, 8 days later, it isn't inhibiting any activity, but I still feel light discomfort.). Second, I noticed that something was going on with my right toe. Nothing specifically hurt, but I could feel pressure building underneath the toenail. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? In all, though, nothing was dire.

(T’s foto again.)

After that initial nosedive descent from the North Rim, the trail again evened out for 7 miles of lovely, almost flatlander running. This portion of the trail is called The Box, for its somewhat box-y characteristics that are shown in the above photo. I can’t quite describe how much I enjoy this portion of the trail, except to say that I really enjoy this portion of the trail.

When we arrived back to the Phantom Ranch area at the Colorado River, we crossed the bizarre silver suspension bridge and began the ascent to the South Rim. Let the games begin! From here, it’s just 5000 feet and 10 miles up to the South Rim, the end of our run, and all the luxuries of civilization. At this point, I was feeling good, so I began the ascent by pushing. Well, as much as this little engine could push this late in the game. It was great fun and hugely motivating to catch the smattering of day hikers still in the canyon. And, when darkness descended upon us, I had even more fun chasing down folks with flashlights on the trail.

Everything was going great until my toe exploded (T coined that phrase and I like it.). Suddenly, that moderate pressurized feeling was replaced by a gush of fluid. Obviously, whatever had built up under the nail had just released. This gushing wasn't painful, but the resulting deflated toe was. Without the "padding" of the fluid build-up, the nail was loose, shifty, and grating itself over exposed nerve endings (Note: Even today, the toenail is still hanging on by threads!). Fortunately, the body has a built-in series of physiological responses to traumatic moments like these, and my toe soon went happily numb. For the rest of the climb, I could feel the nail shifting around, but it was no longer painful.

(Photo by T.)

A rising full moon also helped distract me from the toe explosion (And, hopefully, the photo above will help distract you as well.). In the midnight black sky, the moon was huge and white, almost blinding. The moonrise over the canyon walls was a spectacular sight that I won't soon forget.

With the distractions of my toe and the moon, we were suddenly just a few switchbacks from the South Rim, which you could distinctly see in the moonlight. Those last switchbacks might have taken almost forever to climb, I'm not sure. Then, we were again standing on the South Rim. It was all over, and time had simultaneously passed too quickly and too slowly. I couldn’t fathom that, so I didn’t try.

After finishing last year, I was a wreck. I collapsed into a hotel bed, writhed around in pain all night, and was fully handicapped the following day. This year, we wandered around the South Rim, found our hotel, showered, and went out to dinner. The next day, we walked around the South Rim with only a light stagger. What a difference a year makes!

(One more photo by T.)

Here’s a unique photo of the trash can after we emptied our pockets!

Alone, I consumed:
8 vanilla Power Gels = 880 kcal
9 vanilla Gus = 900 kcal
3 packages of Sharkies = 450 kcal
2 packages of salted cashews = 500 kcal
1 (delicious!) oatmeal raisin cookie = 130 kcal
8 S-caps
approximately 180 oz of Nuun water

This is the kicker: My stomach was content all day long! Several months of deductive reasoning had led me to suspect that a certain Hammer product, Sustained Energy, was causing my stomach ails. For the first time in a long time, I did a long run sans Sustained Energy, and I had no belly aches. Go figure! I added in cashews for protein, and they seemed to work fine. I’m sticking with the above combination!

Stay tuned for a little more! Next I'll have an entry with photos about a day we spent exploring Bryce Canyon National Park.

From our dive-off point on the South Rim, the view would have been like this in the daylight. Instead, picture pitch black darkness.

(Meghan's photo.)

Here is a photo of some of the switchbacks along the upper reaches of the Bright Angel Trail. These particular switchbacks cover about 1000 vertical feet, or approximately one fifth of the entire descent from the South Rim to the Colorado River. We descended these switchbacks in the dark, but I took this photo from the South Rim the next day. Won’t you agree that the Grand Canyon trail system is an engineering marvel?

The initial descent down the Bright Angel Trail was pleasant, excepting a God-awful wind. My white LED headlamp light shone red through the trail dirt floating on the wind, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many ounces of dust I was inhaling. Additionally, the trail smelled like mules, one of the more frequent trail travelers. I cringed at the thought of inhaling mule detritus. Fortunately, the wind waned with our increasing depth into the canyon, and the dust storm ceased.

(Photo by mememe.)

As we descended into the canyon, the rising sun bathed the higher ridgelines in long, shadowy, orange light. This photo was taken looking north towards our destination, the North Rim. The North Rim is conspicuously perched as the tallest white ridgeline in the back center of the photo.

(Photo by Mr. T.)

T really likes the Devil’s Corkscrew, the set of switchbacks shown in this photo. He gets all light-footed and giddy down in there. On the descent, he was telling me about a science fiction movie scene that looked just like the terrain. I’m sorry to report that I was so focused on not falling down the Devil’s Corkscrew that I don’t recall anything else from that conversation (Forgive me, T?). From the top of the corkscrew, it’s just 1500 vertical feet down to the mighty Colorado River. You can almost hear the river rapids from here.

After crossing the Colorado River, it’s 14 miles and 6000 vertical feet up to the North Rim. At this particular moment, such a distance and height is so intangible that it almost seems like we’re headed to Kansas, or maybe Georgia. What is acutely tangible at this moment is the fragrant breakfast smells wafting from the denizens of Phantom Ranch, the guest ranch that just so happens to be located in this unlikely place. It smells like sausage and even my vegetarian mouth waters at the aroma. I suck down a vanilla Gu encrusted with trail dirt from the earlier wind and pretend I’m delving into a stack of blueberry pancakes.

The first 7 miles from the river towards the North Rim are like a jolly jog in the park. There is just 1500 vertical feet of gain over 7 miles, and it’s almost exclusively run-able. However, after 7 miles, lest you catch yourself in a hazed, inattentive running stupor, the trail suddenly skyrockets into the air for the big climb to the North Rim.

(Note: There was no treated water along the North Kaibab Trail, presumably due to the big pipeline break that we observed spewing an alarming volume of water onto the trail. As a result, we took 2 long breaks, one on the climb, one on the descent, to purify creek water.)

(Another T photo.)

Once it starts to climb, the North Kaibab Trail doesn’t mess around. Not only does it climb, and climb, and climb some more, but it also climbs along precarious places like huge cliff faces. Some crazy nut job blasted out the cliff in the above photo to build a trail! As you can see, it’s not truly scary because the trail is wide enough for a clumsy, loaded mule train. What’s loony about it is the engineering feat required to create the trail!

Last year, when the trail skyrocketed, I continued running heartily. About 1500 vertical feet and one blood sugar crash later, I was quite close to having a temper tantrum. This year, I contained myself by power hiking the whole thing and consuming the appropriate amounts of liquid, electrolytes, and calories. Not surprisingly, we arrived to the top in the same amount of time.

As soon as we arrived to the North Rim, I turned around and headed down the trail. Poor T, I think he wanted to stop and eat cookies! Mostly, I didn't want to stop my body long enough for my mind to ponder the fact that we had to repeat that whole journey, right now. So, with little delay, we were on our way again.

The next several blog entries will serve as the story of my 2007 Grand Canyon double crossing. T and I completed the same run last Thanksgiving, and apparently we're attempting to make it a tradition. I consider myself unduly thankful to accomplish this two years running (Sadly, the pun was intended.).

I began this journey feeling somewhat cautious about my two big toes. The nails on these toes were sporting significant residual damage from recent events and training runs. Let's put it this way: portions of each of the nails were attached, and other portions were detached. As I slid each toe into my Injinji socks and Montrail shoes that morning, I begged each of them to fairly behave. Most of them behaved quite well, as nine toes would return to the South Rim that night unscathed.

Without particular warning, we were standing on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon at 6 am last Saturday morning. The Big Ditch was in front of us; I knew this to be true. However, our late night arrival the evening prior and this day's early morning start provided nary a glimpse of the Big Hole in the Ground. However, as we stood there, a frozen wind carrying fine dirt pelted our faces from an odd angle, from below, thus confirming the presence of an abyssmal space before us. Because running 48 miles from the South Rim to the North Rim and back to the South RIm again seemed more comfortable than standing there unmoving in the 18 degree Fahrenheit and God-knows-what windchill, we started running down the Bright Angel Trail.

In the next few days, I'll post a photo-documentary of the run, but here are a few highlights:
1. I'm thrilled to announce that I have solved the ailing stomach problem that has cursed many of my long runs/races in the last several months.
2. There was a broken pipeline in the canyon that precluded us from drinking treated water. We had to purify our own as we ran.
3. A gorgeous full moon led us out of the canyon after a long day of running.
4. My toe exploded.
5. I wasn't crippled afterwards like I was last year. Sore, yes, handicapped, no.
6. I'm now confident that I can do a 100 miler.