The Ick Factor of an Active Lifestyle

Mid-day today my sweet husband picked up my headlamp from last night’s run, crinkled his nose and said “Eww, this is still wet.” That’s okay because I’m the one who launders his stinky sweaty bike shorts. Seriously, wet chamois beats wet headlamp band in ick factor, hands down.

This life we lead can be a little gross. In the past 39 hours, because I couldn’t go 40 even if it would have made a better story, I have spent 22 hours outside in the Arkansas heat and humidity. In that 22 hours I biked 15 slow miles leading a beginner training ride then treating myself to a trip to the farmers market for the last of the summer’s blueberries by wheel power. We packed and loaded overnight gear into the Arkansas Outside Mobile Office, traveled down the way to our campsite for the night and set up in a light drizzle. We waited and chatted and caught up with friends we may not have seen since the last long trail run event waiting for the gun to start the Full mOOn 25K/50K run. I opted for the 25, let’s face it, I don’t train distance runs enough to pull of another 50 right now. After running that 15—- miles in the heat, with the humidity from the afternoon rain still hanging in the air like a moist towelette, almost refreshing but not quite doing the trick, I stayed out at the finish line for another 4 hours to cheer in more runners and friends. There was music, and beer. There were hot dogs and fun size candy bars. There was a spontaneous yoga class and a dance party. Because even after running 16 or 32 miles, these folks know how to have a good time. Which is why we love them and why we put up with their stench. Now some of these stinky folk were nice enough to use the showers available back in the campground to rinse the smell of hard work off their bodies. Some, like myself, chose to embrace the funk and let it linger. As the morning hours continued to tick away it seemed a good idea to stay up to watch the sunrise. At this point I was close to 35 hours into my experiment with ick tolerance. And because my aforementioned sweet husband had been out on the run course photographing these foul smelling, often scantily clad-don’t get chest hair on my chilidog you jerk- runners too, it was a collaborative experiment. Having ridden his bike for 25 miles in the morning, his olfactory presence was almost as good as mine. As long as it’s both of us, it’s okay. Finally I crawl into my hammock and let the man stew in his own cloud inside the tent. Not because I could smell him, but he was so wiped out the snoring was way worse than any smell could be.

There was much discussion after the race about the things we do to our bodies in order to do the things we want to do. There are the missing toenails. Every distance runner loses a toenail at some point. I have one that I lose sometimes twice a year. This is gross. It comes back thicker each time. Eventually it will match the toenail my husband has that we affectionately refer to as “shark toe”. Luckily, shark toe’s presence in our lives prevents my man from being grossed out by my missing nails.

The offending toenail post Ouachita 50K Trail Run

Then there’s the chaffing. Prevention is key but it’s a hard thing to remember. Sometimes you don’t even know the places to try to protect. I wore a shirt on the Full mOOn 25K run that I’ve worn several times without issue but this time, I got a nasty chafe burn inside my upper arm. And there’s the boob chaffing. And the worst: the diaper rash chafe. No one wants the butt crack rash. I suppose it’s lucky that millions, possibly billions of dollars are spent on prevention an treatment of butt crack rash so product availability is high. You just don’t think you’re going to have to buy it for yourself.

Chaffing Prevention

Within 30 minutes of breaking camp I received a text photo of a tube of Boudreaux’s Butt Paste from a sweet friend who did her first official 25K race AND got a nasty butt crack rash as a reward. When choosing an outdoor lifestyle leads you to days of wallowing in your own funk, losing toenails, needing industrial strength deodorant that contains compounds no longer legal in any country other than a few in East Asia, stuffing your running shoes with sachets of baking soda, and to purchasing vats of diaper rash cream when you have no babies, you know your tolerance for ick is just where it needs to be.

Loud Penis

Sometimes bonds of friendship are built on superficial commonalities: we run so we’re friends, we cycle so we’re friends, we like beer so we’re friends, we like to do all those things so we’re a super athletic AA group?
And then there are those bonds built on something deeper, a feeling of kinship, a connection of spirit when you realize that there is another person who sees the world in much the same way as you. Perhaps that person possesses a quality you wish you were better at expressing or maybe it’s a quality you adore in others but tend to suppress in yourself. So when we find a group of people who make us feel like we are not just accepted, but that we have value within the group, we tend to stick around.

My husband regularly asks me to keep my filter in place lest I allow everything I think to spill out of my mouth. This is actually something I love and adore about a number of my friends and some of my family. I love their willingness to do or say things that are “inappropriate” in the name of fun and friendship.
Standing at the finish line of the Ouachita 50K I was talking to sweetheart Jen who has been encouraging me for the past year to try this kind of distance running. We were enjoying a post race recovery drink and conversing about why, despite her second place overall female finish, she did not receive one of the much coveted rooster trophies. This led to many uses of the words big and cock which was a totally inappropriate, however accurate reaction to her missing out on the big rooster. During this tirade against feathered and cock combed creatures, a  large pickup truck comes around the corner revving his engine with tailpipes firing. Without missing a beat, Jen, with a serious face and even more serious voice said “Oh my god did you hear his penis? His penis is so loud! Can you BELIEVE how loud his penis is?” Thank you Jen for being willing to state the inappropriate but obvious conclusion about this man’s belief that his penis deserves to be heard over the everyday din of traffic.

More Than I Can Chew

You’re at a buffet, one of those fancy buffets with steamed crab legs and prime rib, so you fill your plate with everything that looks good.  Do you keep eating until you hurt and have to unbutton your eatin’ pants or do you quit before your stomach looks like an overinflated beach ball? What is the clue that maybe, just maybe, you have bitten off more than you can chew?

Late last year when I decided I was going to attempt the Ouachita 50k, I didn’t immediately set out on a training schedule to maximize my “feet on dirt & rocks” time. For a few weeks I kept doing what I’ve always done, a lot of circuit training with a mix of interval cardio sessions and strength training. I did very little long steady state cardio, occasionally running or biking when weather and time permitted. It is winter after all and though the weather is typically moderate here, it was often the availability of time that kept me from going on multi-hour runs or rides. So about 15 weeks ago I started on a marathon schedule, but keeping mainly to the once a week long runs, while incorporating more of the same circuit training/sprints/short tempo runs during the week instead of shorter mileage runs. I’m not sure if this has backfired on me or not. I’ve been running a route that is not the race route because it is more convenient and less isolated. This weekend I went out and tried the actual race route including  up and over the boulder scramble on Pinnacle Mountain.

The next challenge would be up the hill to the Vista over Lake Maumelle at about mile 9 where I stopped to fuel and take in the view of Pinnacle in the distance.

The first couple of miles was slowed by the steep descent and ascent from the trail head to the scramble then up and over Pinnacle Mountain but coming down from the Vista, I was still feeling strong. And then it went to hell. On the return I started having some pain in my knee. It has happened before but not recently. I just got new shoes so that’s not the issue and this time it was definitely unilateral. The pain slowed my pace to a hike for much of the return trip and the same mileage I had accomplished the week before on a different trail took more than an hour and a half longer to complete. Am I out of my gourd? What have I done? Can I do this? I’m still only doing about half the mileage of the race and having issues like this, what will race day bring? I think I may have bitten off more than I can chew. Maybe I shouldn’t have put the extra crab rangoon on my plate.

The Challenge

Last year I wrote a story for Arkansas Outside about the Ouachita Trail 50K/50mi Run. A couple of weeks prior, I had gone out for a long run along a portion of the Ouachita Trail that this race utilizes. I thought to myself, “I could do that”. Maybe. And then I got the phone call with news that the regular photographer had a family emergency, could I please come cover the race that day? Are you kidding? Spend the morning in one of my favorite places in Little Rock if not in the entire state cheering runners? Heck yeah I’ll do it.

I realized that even if registration for the event had been open, I was in no way prepared to even hike the 30 miles required, much less run as much of it as possible. But I knew it was something I wanted to try. Apparently not enough to actually train for it, but that leads to adventures like a 25k Trail Run in the dark. Which in turn did not lead to more training but instead to the belief that running the Cossatot River Corridor Half Marathon should be a breeze. I mean, it was 2 miles shorter AND in daylight.

I half kid about training. What I mean is, I don’t follow any kind of regimented schedule. I workout most days of the week, I strength train, I do circuits for both cardio and strength, I run occasionally and I bike occasionally. I train for my life, not for an event.

But now I’ve gone and gotten myself in a pickle. Last week registration opened for the Ouachita 50K/50mile Trail Run 2013 and I signed up for the 50K. I might have to start training.

Time to hit the trail

Peace Beneath the Stars

Sixty-one days after we drove away from the Sunderlin Hall dorms and the campus of our youngest child’s college home, the child returned home and she and I were sitting in camp chairs beside a fire that took far too long to build and stoke. We roasted hotdogs and talked about all that has transpired in the sixty-one days since we last sat down to eat dinner together. There was no wait staff, no noise from the kitchen, I wasn’t busy running back and forth between the stove and the table. Serenaded by the crackle and pop of the fire, we marveled at the sizzle of the grease droplets as the hot dogs oozed down to the burning wood and anticipated the much looked forward to ceremony of The Blowing Out of the Fiery Marshmallows. We needed this because sometimes in our hustle and bustle world it’s necessary to stop and listen to nothing more than the crackle of the fire and to each other. We were hoping to find a piece of peace in our busy lives. What better place to find it than under the stars?

Want S’more?

We were only an hour from home, surrounded by the rich Ouachita National Forest and the Flatside Wilderness Area. Being the first weekend of muzzleloader season we were concerned enough to find a place to camp that is far off the Ouachita Trail, hoping to avoid most of the hunters.

The other girl of the house, our dog Hobo, was with us too. Luckily Hobo is not much of a barker. Most of her intrusions on the peace were due to us calling her back when she wandered a bit too far for comfort. We talked about school, studying, bonfires, creek swimming, classes, fear, roommates, jealousy, rats, bus schedules, the future, and cafeteria food. Just the normal conversations one has with a new college student.

Hammocks were hung, dog beds were made, fire was roaring, and it was just us girls with a few bugs, crawly critters, probably a few hunters not far away, and one scary something that half barked half screamed in the wee hours of the morning resulting in a barking dog with her fur up. She tried to crawl into the hammock with each of us in turn, but eventually the scaredy-dog went back to sleep in between her protectors.

We woke to a crisp fall morning. I made hot cocoa in no time with our trusty Jet-Boil. Then I got the bright idea to heat up our now stale donut holes in it. It worked. Hot stale donut holes were much better than cold stale donut holes.

We took our time packing up, planning to attempt a hike on the OT with an orange vest at the ready for the dog and orange flags for our backpacks. Alas, as we traveled down closer to the trailheads near Lake Sylvia we could tell by the number of vehicles and full campsites that the woods were full. We chose instead to follow the Flatside Wilderness Scenic Drive, much of which is familiar to me from the Full Moon 25/50K Trail Run and from our mountain bike forays in the area. The roads are rough, the hills are steep, and driving can be a challenge. I let the small one take the driver’s seat and we drove on, stopping at the overlooks to check out the views. We talked about “going off the grid” and living a less hectic lifestyle. I doubt that will ever be in the cards for me, but for my kids, I hope they find a way to escape if not as a full-time lifestyle, at least on occasion. How else will they find peace?

 

 

 

 

Family Hikes

When I find myself needing to calm my soul and bring balance to my life, I go outside. Nothing creates peace and reminds me of the insignificance of the daily grind like a really good sunset. You know, the ones that set the sky on fire?

It’s a rare treat to have three working people, including the working student in the family, with the same day off work but it happened on Martin Luther King Day. Family hike time! Several ideas on trails to hike were tossed out over dinner Sunday night. We finally decided to head out west of our house to part of the Ouachita Trail and the Flastside Wilderness that we’re familiar with. This area is home to one of our favorite mountain bike training rides when we’re up for gravel, hills and more hills and the Slobberknocker Mountain Bike Race. It’s also home to favorite runs: the Full mOOn 50K, the Catsmacker and the Arkansas Traveller 100. We started our afternoon by loading the car with two dogs, three people, three water bottles, a dog bowl, flashlights, a big camera, a tripod and a backpack with hard salami, fresh mozzarella and cookies. Sustenance, it’s an important part of a successful hike. We parked at the trailhead just past Lake Sylvia for a quick, flat trip around the short paved trail to get our legs moving. Then we headed across the street to the Ouachita Trail knowing we had about an hour to hike before we needed to get in the car for the drive to Flatside. Though the trees are mostly bare this time of year, it gives the forest a unique, desolate beauty. At least that’s the way I think of it.

The line of sight from the top of Flatside Pinnacle, looking west over the Ouachita National Forest, offers one of the most spectacular sunset views in the state. As we drove up the forest road alongside Brown Creek, we were discussing the 223 miles of the Ouachita Trail, and the fact that the small one has only hiked about 30 miles of it. Her response? “Only 190 to go then.” A good attitude, one that has inspired plans to return this weekend and hike a few more miles of it.

The photographer and the sunset lover, waiting.

The sunset calendar told us we’d need to be at the top by 5 p.m. We settled in about 4:45, fed the pups and laid out our own little dinner on the rocks as Joe set up the tripod and camera to capture the experience. There was discussion about the need to put the technology away and just enjoy the view but bloggers and photographers don’t do that.  I tried, I put the phone in my pocket and got it back out several times. As the sun kissed the mountain range, I couldn’t help but watch my daughter, a halo of fading sunlight around her curly hair. These are the moments I want to remember, the ones I want her to remember. Having photographic evidence never hurts.

The Cost of Procrastination

The day before registration was slated to open for the Sylamore 50K trail run,  I saw a facebook post that anyone interested should be at the ready with their paypal account signed on at least 5 minutes before sign up was scheduled to start.  The race sold out in a matter of hours last year. So about 15 minutes after online sign ups started, I was sitting out on my in laws deck, relaxing in the sunshine instead of sitting at the computer.

When I went to register at 20 minutes after opening, I couldn’t get in. The race sold out in less than 30 minutes. Ugh. I’ve heard such great things about this race, from the great atmosphere to the toughness of the course to the unpredictable weather which in February could be ice and snow or cold rain or if you hate cold weather and you’re lucky, it could be warm enough to wear shorts. You just never know. The thing that doesn’t change is the rugged course, on trails rife with rocks, stream crossings and other challenges.

I’m not even sure why I was considering it. I am having difficulty finding the time to train as it is and have my first road marathon scheduled for the end of December with a second one slated for March and now a repeat of the Ouachita Trail 50K in April. Do I honestly believe that running that kind of distance once a month for 4 months is a good idea?  Of course I do.

I Don’t Beat My Wife

The other day we’re sitting at a table in the middle of the Little Rock Climbing Center talking to a couple of friends from Ouachita Outdoor Outfitters about how in the world the man and I got caught up in this whole idea of Arkansas Outside. The concept seemed practical a couple of years ago. We were participating in a lot of events ourselves and writing race reports or blogging about them anyway, how hard could it be? We had know idea. It’s brutal. This month I will be spending exactly one weekend sleeping in my own bed. I don’t mean that I spend a single night of a weekend away from home, I mean for 3 weekends in a row, I will sleep Friday and Saturday nights in a lodge room with a roommate, in a tent with my family or in a hammock under the stars.

Somewhere in between going to, writing about, taking pictures of, participating in and trying to continue to train for races, we try to have a life not immersed in bike grease, dirty chamois or discussions of missing toenails. We often fail.

So while trying to explain the hectic schedule of day-jobs, family life and Arkansas Outside, and to explain how I ended up in this boat that is always in the midst of a maelstrom with my spouse instead of it being HIS project as was initially planned, the man decided the best explanation was one that gives insight into how our marriage works.

“I don’t beat my wife, I just sign her up for 50K’s.”

45K and still smiling

What Am I Missing?

My Bikes

I’m only a few weeks in to the long run training schedule I made for myself to get ready for the upcoming Ouachita Trail 50K. Today I needed to put in at least 16 miles and the weather forecast was totally different than it was on Monday when I did my last long run. The day would be sunny and unseasonably warm, the afternoon high was predicted to be in the mid 50s. I woke up early and as I waited for the sun to rise to meet me this morning, my sweet partner in crime was planning his own adventure, a long hilly mountain bike ride. I spent a few minutes wondering why in the world I was doing these long runs on the weekends instead of being able to just go do what I feel like doing that day when I get up. It’s not that I’d rather bike than run necessarily, it’s that I’ve removed my ability to choose which one I can do, there just isn’t enough time for it all. I can’t wait for the time to change so we can start riding after work again.

Who needs bridges?

My Girl

I used to have a running partner at work. We would run together almost every day of the week. She pressed me. She pushed me. She made me improve my pace. And then she moved away. Neither of us has been able to find another relationship like the one we had. I miss that camaraderie and my pace has fallen way off since she left.

Finished!

Now that I’ve complained about missing out I get to say what I am NOT missing. I’m not missing out on having the time that I go to run all to myself. I enjoy the time spent in my own head. I enjoy the solitude of the trail. I like hearing the wind in the trees and watching the deer dart across the trail in front of me. I won’t say I enjoy the pain of trying to go a little farther…a little faster…a little harder but I do enjoy the mental games I have to play to do it. Really I guess I’m not missing much at all.

A Path Through the Boulder Field

Running on Peanut Butter and Raindrops

We were traveling over the weekend which meant my usual long trail run day training for my first 50K could be spent doing 3 mile laps on the road around my in-laws lake house in sub freezing temps or…I could wait till we got home and run on Monday. The weather at home in Little Rock was perfect all weekend, it was cool and sunny when we left and it stayed cool and sunny until we returned. That’s when the clouds gathered and the chances of me staying dry for a slow 15 miles of trail was lower than the chance of it raining meatballs into my mouth to fuel my run.

I’ve been having a little trouble in the nutrition on the run department. I know there are a lot of folks who don’t need anything other than a little water for a 15 mile run. I have found that I have to fuel properly before and during a long trail run or I start running out of steam around mile 10. I always joke with my husband that the chubby girl needs to eat. I have to eat when we cycle for more than 2 hours too. He doesn’t. On a 100 mile ride last year I swear he kept saying he wasn’t hungry while I practically rode my bike right up to the Taco Bell counter in North Little Rock to get a damn taco at mile 80. Bonking is no good. If I’m going to make it through running 32 miles of tough terrain including a trip up and over Pinnacle Mountain, I need to know exactly what my body needs and what it will keep down under stress.

I’ve been using raspberry Skratch Labs in my water, that seems to have helped some in the early miles, and I’ve tried GU or Carb BOOM after mile 5.

I find if I wait until mile 6 or 7, it doesn’t work as well and I start to feel weak. I can’t eat a GU every 5 miles. I mean I could, I don’t WANT to. It’s not that they taste bad, or don’t work, I just feel like after a couple of them, I’ll have to force myself to eat it and that’s no good.

I set off Monday with my Osprey pack bladder full of Skratch spiked water and a rain jacket just in case. I also stashed a honey stinger waffle and a half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to eat as a test. At about mile 5, as if I had planned it, I was near the covered bridge in Burns Park when the clouds opened up and the rain poured down. I sought shelter from the rain under the bridge. I got my raincoat out and took advantage of the stop to eat the honey waffle.

Shelter from the Storm

Luckily the rain didn’t last long, within minutes it slowed to a sprinkle and I was back on the trail. I made it all the way to mile 12 when I started feeling it again…not hunger, it’s not in the belly of the beast, it feels more like disorientation. Dizzy if you will. I started tripping a bit more often and my feet got sloppy. I needed to eat. I pulled out my PB&J and wolfed it down while still hiking as fast as I could. As I hit the home stretch I had to go over the Big Dam Bridge. Bruno Mars’s song Locked out of Heaven came on my iPod and as I was running up the incline I looked at my watch and realized my pace was almost 2 min/mi faster than it had been on the semi flat trail of Pfieffer Loop that I’d just left. I was up on the bridge alone, in the rain, singing as loud as my heaving lungs would let me, running on peanut butter and raindrops.