Just Keep Climbing...

Nov 8, 2012. It was supposed to be a lovely Fall day. The perfect day to get out, see some fall colors, enjoy the crisp, cool air and get a little exercise to boot. I'd been planning this hike for a month, and had every detail worked out, at least I thought. But, as usual, reality had different ideas than me.

It all started last summer, when I hiked with my dad and my husband to the top of Mt. Rose, which is in Nevada, overlooking Reno on one side and Lake Tahoe on the other. I was pretty darn proud of myself, climbing that mountain, thinking what great physical condition I've gotten in that I could do that and not really feel the effects. It made me feel invincible! So when I got home to Southern California, I began to research the hiking opportunities and lo and behold, there are mountains here too! Well duh. I've only been looking at them for the 16 years that I'd lived here, but I never really thought about actually going to them.

I found myself a nifty little website called Everytrail.com, where hikers, explorers and adventurers such as myself can record trips using GPS devices and cell phones with GPS capability, and post them on the site. I found lots of Southern California posts with directions, maps, stories and pictures that stoked my fire to get out there and start exploring the backcountry of this area. I've even added some trips myself, if you look over to the right of this post, you can see my Everytrail widget, just click on that sucker and check out where I've been. But I digress...

Now, there are lots of hiking options here in Southern California that don't involve much climbing, but still remembering how great it felt to conquer a mountaintop, that seemed to be the idea that was stuck in my head, replaying over and over again. My research into suitable destinations yielded several options, each as inviting as the last. I decided for my first mountain hike here in So Cal that I would head up Mt. Wilson. It's about an hour drive from my home, the13 mile round trip description of the hike seemed reasonable, and the elevation at the top was "only" 5712 feet above sea level, that's nothing compared to the 10778 feet at the summit of Mt. Rose! No problem! Riiiiight.

I planned from the beginning to take on this hike alone. This might seem strange to some, or even dangerous. After all, there are bears and mountain lions out there, and who knows what crazy people you could meet off in the wilderness? But having spent a great deal of my youth out exploring the backwoods above my beloved Tahoe, hiking, fishing, cross country skiing and biking with no one else along for the trip, I didn't really think anything of it. After all, in all those years  I never encountered anything more dangerous than squirrels. So I felt confident that a little day hike on my own was no big deal.

In the days leading up to my hike, I made sure I was prepared for what I had planned. I packed a backpack with essentials (first aid kit, extra clothes, water, flashlight, etc.), bought an "Adventure Pass" (required for recreational use of 4 Southern California national forests), studied my trail guides and maps, and started to get excited about the upcoming adventure. Until the day arrived. I woke up that morning to the sound of rain on the roof. Darn. Ok, I thought, I'll just have to bring a rain poncho. No biggie. Then I found a space blanket we had lying around, and stuffed that in my backpack "just in case". As I drove across the valley, my car was sprinkled intermittently, but by the time I got to the trailhead at Chantry Flats, the sun was out and the clouds were parting. I grabbed my pack, locked up my car, and headed out.

The first part of the hike was downhill on an old forest service road, easy going for the first mile. At the bottom of the hill there was a creek, surrounded by a lot of little cabins that I discovered on later research were built in the early 1900's, and are still lived in today, though I didn't see many of the residents. The trail split about a mile and a half in, I took a quick side trip to see Sturtevant Falls, which was a point of interest that had come up on many of my searches for places to hike. I sat for a few minutes to take in the idyllic scene, and to drink water and eat energy bars and Butterfingers I'd smuggled out of my kids' trick or treat bags. I took some pictures and enjoyed the view before heading back out to the main trail.

Back out on the trail, I had two options, the "easy trail", and the "hikers only" trail. I chose the hiker's only route as it had been described in my guide as "the most scenic". This, I soon learned, also meant, "really rocky and kinda steep". The trail was literally carved out of a cliff in some places, and I found myself leaning away from the edge to keep my heavy backpack from dragging me over the side and 20 feet down into the creek. But the scenic part didn't disappoint. The trail followed along the edge of the creek for a good long ways, including views of Sturtevant falls from above. There were more waterfalls as I kept going, even at a trickle the creek was very pretty, and I couldn't help but think how nice it must be in the spring, when the stream is full.

I continued on the trail for one mile, two miles, and more. It climbed up gradually, cutting through thick woods of oak and more or less followed on one side or the other of the creek bed. As I went along, the clouds that had dissipated earlier began to roll back in, and I began to notice that other than the trail in front of me and behind me, there wasn't much of a view. I saw some lovely fall colors on the trees over the path, and even a little brown salamander making his way across the trail, but didn't see much else in the way of scenery. It began to rain on and off, not enough to soak me, but enough to make my clothes just a little bit damper than I liked. And oh yeah, I was sweating. A lot. Hiking uphill with a heavy load on your back will do that to you. I stopped at Spruce Grove Campground, which the trail goes right through the middle of, for a quick break. Up until this point in my hike, I had only seen one other person after leaving Sturtevant Falls, and began to notice a strange sense of aloneness. That's not even a word. But it's the best description I can think of. I attempted to munch on more Butterfingers and Clif Bars while several rowdy squirrels perched on branches over my head, shrieking and chucking large acorns at me. I think one of them whizzed on me, which was my cue to pack up and get going again.

A short distance from Spruce Grove, there was a trail split. I followed the sign with the arrow pointing to the left, noting "Mt. Wilson, 3 miles". Only three miles to go! Pfft, that's a measly 5k, no big deal there, right? And that is where reality began to have fun with me. Very soon after starting on this part of the trail, it went from "gradually ascending" to "oh jeez this is steep". And it didn't relent even one little bit for the next three miles. At first it was just one long stretch of up, up, up and more up.  Then the trail hit the steepest part of the mountainside and broke into switchbacks crossing back and forth across the steep mountain face. Now, I thought I'd prepared for this. I had finished an 18 mile run the previous week, so I knew I wasn't lacking in stamina, yet I felt like I was dragging my feet through mud with each step. I guess that 5k isn't such a cinch after all when you're going straight up instead of flat! Yeesh. And at some point my ankle began to hurt. Great, I thought, just what I need.

I got to a sign that said "halfway point", 1.4 miles to Mt. Wilson, and sat down on a rock to rest. That halfway mark was referring to the old Sturtevant Camp, which is still there (and open for rental, apparently, according to their website), that I had passed earlier. So now I was thinking, Oh my God, I still have a mile and a half of this to go! Aaugh! So much for "a mile is no big deal". I got up off my butt, shoved my big feet up the trail, and counted my blessings that there was no one around to hear me growling and grunting my way up the last part of it.

I think it took me just under an hour to get that last mile in. And what a mile it was. Phew. But after what seemed like an infinite amount of switchbacks, stomping, climbing and just the teensiest bit of swearing, I saw a fence, and this sign.

 

6.7 miles back to my car. No biggie, it's all down hill from here! But wait, there's more! 

My original plan had been to find a picnic area once I reached the top, eat lunch, and take a different trail back to Chantry Flats. It was all so well described in my guide! The trail shown here ended shortly after the sign, and I began to see the buildings that housed the telescopes of the Wilson Observatory. I headed out on paved roads and looked for the picnic area from my guide. I quickly discovered two big problems with this plan. One, there was no cell service there on top of Mt. Wilson. I had assumed that a huge complex like that as described in my guides would have cell service, but I had zip, nothing, nada. I tried to load maps on my GPS app, but got nothing. The other big problem I had was that the fog had rolled in something fierce. Not long after arriving on the mountaintop I found myself surrounded by fog, not able to see even 20 feet in front of me. Now, I wasn't lost. I knew where I had been and could find my way back. But I didn't want to go back the way I came because the path I was supposed to take back down the mountain was supposed to be wider and less precarious than the one I had taken up. So I walked around the observatory complex at the top of Mt. Wilson, studying the maps posted on the buildings there, hoping for a clue to find the trail that had been described in my guide, but couldn't find a thing. Stupid cell phone. I decided I needed to head back down the way I came or else risk taking an unfamiliar route in the fog and possibly dark (as in, Oh, Yeah, I forgot that we set our clocks back a week earlier and now it's dark at 5. Big DUH). By this time I had busted out my space blanket too, because I was freezing my tail off in my sweaty shirt and sweatshirt, and it must have been just under 50 degrees up there at that time. So I must have looked quite the sight to the guy who had driven up there to work on the TV towers at the top of the mountain. He pulled over to see if I was ok, and I asked him if he knew where the trailhead was to get down. He said no, and asked if I wanted a ride back to my car. Let's see. It's cold. I'm kinda wet. My feet hurt. My ankle hurts. I'm hungry (never got to have my picnic), I'm not lost, but maybe, yeah, I'm not really going the right direction either. It's foggy. It's getting dark. Ok, so I accepted the ride. What a nice guy. He said his name was David. So wherever you are, David, thank you for rescuing me from the brink of Mt. Wilson and the great fog bank of November 2012.

So now I've got another bee in my bonnet, this time to go back and do it right. I thought I'd been prepared, but it's always the little things that get you in the end. The weather. The time change. Trusting my technology to guide me instead of tried and true paper maps. And, of course, my assumption that over 4000 feet of elevation gain would be "no big deal". I had thought Mt. Rose was a big deal, but looking at the details of that hike, it starts at nearly 9000 feet elevation, so by the time you reach the top, it's only around 2100 feet of elevation gain. No small feat, but nearly double that and that's what you get when you hike Mt. Wilson.

I'll be doing it again, and yes, I'll be doing it alone. But this time, and all the times I venture out after, I'll be sure to plan ahead, think of the small things, and never assume Mother Nature is on my side. Because she's the worst enemy us would be adventurers can have. She can also be our best friend. The trouble we go to to prepare for these trips is only worth it because of the rewards we get in the end. The views. The sense of accomplishment. The memories and stories that we have to pass on to those around us. I look forward to the next round, I hope the story of it will be better and more encouraging than this one. But despite the negative parts of this trip, I have one major thing to take away from it. And that is, I DID IT. I MADE IT. Even though I wanted to stop more than once along the way and turn back, I didn't. That is something I will always have to keep with me, and it will be my motivation to keep going in the future. As I continue to discover every day, anything is possible, if you just keep going and don't give up, no matter how long it takes.

Thanks for reading, see you next time!

What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

Well, it's officially official. I have gone off the deep end. Or so I would think if I were the old version of myself talking to the new me. So what is it that I've gone and done? Well, I'll tell ya.

This. 

This is what I've done. Or rather, this is what I've decided to do. For those who are unfamiliar with this number, this is how many miles there are in a marathon. Yes, a full marathon. Not a half marathon, not a 10k, but a full marathon. Phew. I get tired just talking about it. And yet, here I am, well on my way to the next level of crazy in my quest to find out just what I am capable of. Will I be able to do this? I know I will. Will it kick my butt? Probably. Will I hate it, kick myself for making myself go through it, and swear never to ever ever ever do it again? That is what remains to be seen.

It took me a while to get to the point in my fitness journey that I would even consider the idea of doing a full marathon. I've worked my way up from walking a few miles at a time, to walking more than a few miles at at time, to jogging and running longer distances, and have been surprised to find that I haven't yet reached the limit of my endurance. Sure, I feel the effects of a long run and need a bit of rest and recovery time after completing one, but I find I can quickly bounce back and get back to life. Dare I say it? Dare I? It's almost...too easy. There, I said it. Now, take into consideration what I mean by "long run". This can be anywhere from 10-14 miles for me. I can complete this distance in one morning, come home, and after an hour or so of rest, get on with the rest of my day of chores, family adventures, work and such with very little effect from my run. What this means to me is that I am comfortable with this level of activity I have reached, and that maintaining it is possible. I would never have imagined I would reach this level, let alone anything more. And yet, having reached this point, I look back at myself over the past year and a half, and see that every time I reached a new level of comfort, I wasn't satisfied to stay there, but kept pushing myself to see if I could do better. So here I am at this point once again, and I'm ready to see what the next round will bring.

So how am I going to do this? I need to prepare myself for this challenge both physically and mentally. The best way for me to handle it has been to do it the same way I've done everything else. Slow and steady. Now, I won't say slow and steady wins the race. Because the people who train every day to win these things aren't going to lay down and take a nap in the middle of the race like the hare in the old childhood story. No, they are going to run hard and win. But slow and steady will finish the race, and that's what I am going to do. Currently I am in my third week of "official" marathon training. I downloaded some information, made calendars, and am gradually building up my distance so that I'll be ready to face that 26.2 miles on the day of the race. Last Saturday morning I did my longest distance yet, 16 miles. Wow. But that's still 10 miles short of the marathon, so I've got my work cut out for me. This Saturday I'll go for 18, then over the next few weeks, work my way up to 20. And so on. It's not a matter of thinking about running the 26.2 miles three months from now, it's a matter of thinking about what I'm doing today, tomorrow, and maybe as far ahead as this weekend. Set my short term goal, prepare myself, get out and go.

The amazing thing to me has been that time and time again, as I've set the goals and reached every one of them, I still haven't hit the wall. I still love it, enjoy it, and look forward to the next round. It hurts, it tires me, it takes time away from other "fun" things I could be doing, but I keep going back for more. It happened when I did my first 10k. It happened when I did my first half marathon. Each time I set a goal, I reached it, and then went on to master it and make it a regular part of my routine. So that is why I am now setting my sights on a full marathon. The goal is two-fold. One, to finish the thing. Just cross the finish line. To say, "at least I did it once!" Second, to see how it makes me feel. Will I love it? Will I hate it? At this point in my training, I honestly don't know.

As I continue my training and work on getting up in to those previously unthinkable distances, I know there is a very real chance that I might decide that I've gone too far and it's more than I prefer to do on a regular basis.  I've always given myself an "escape clause", that is, I keep telling myself that as soon as I start hating what I'm doing, that I will immediately scale it back to a level where I am comfortable again, in order to maintain the progress I've made and still enjoy it. The escape clause is in full effect here. I will not beat myself up if I don't love training for and running a marathon. I will be satisfied with what I've already achieved and know that I am doing just fine at my current level of activity. And I will know that I had to courage to push myself just a little further when I thought I'd reached the end. But who knows? I might find that I love it, be able to maintain that next level of endurance on a regular basis, and join the ranks of occasional marathon runners. After all I've gone through to get where I am, that is the ultimate dream for me. To know what I used to be and to be able to say I didn't just overcome the obstacles of obesity, unhealthy living and bad habits, I SMASHED them. Obliterated, destroyed, crushed and trampled them, swept them up and threw them far away where they can never bother me again. Ever.

My marathon is going to be on February 3 of next year. As I write this, I have less than 14 weeks until that big day, and I'm ready to go. I'm registered, I'm sticking to my training, and I'm nervous, excited, and optimistic. I'll be posting from time to time on my progress, so this won't be the last you hear of it. Hopefully I'll have more good than bad to report, but whatever the outcome, I'm ready to see this through. And that alone is the best reward I have received for all that I've worked for.

Thanks again for reading, until next time...

Why I Run, Why I Race

Whew. What a week. I've been recovering from my latest race, the Long Beach International City Bank Half Marathon. I know that's a long title, but it's what's on my medal, so I figured I should include it all on here. In running that race, I completed the third leg of the Beach Cities Challenge, the first two legs of which were the Surf City Half Marathon (in February) and the OC Half Marathon ( in May). So you can imagine that lately I've been thinking about this whole running thing a lot. Yes, I've written several times about it before, so hopefully I'm not repeating myself. But I've got two shiny new medals and I'm all giddy, so here's pictures of the bumper stickers I put on my car, and another post about running.

words to live by

you know you want one...

   

I've been running for almost a year now. I started nearly two years ago with taking walks, which gradually became jogging and running. Now, if you had told me at the beginning of this whole thing that I would end up a runner, I would have told you you were nuts. All through school I hated running in PE class, and never gave it a second thought when I entered adulthood and wasn't obligated to put on ugly shorts and go stumble through the woods behind all the skinny kids.  I liked other sports and activities, but running was way, way, way low on my list. And yet, in June of this year, I found myself in a shoe store, running on a treadmill while skinny people watched, so they could tell me to buy expensive shoes that would help me improve my performance as a long distance runner. That's right. Long. Distance. Runner.  How did this happen? Well, the obvious answer is that running has been a huge catalyst in helping me lose a whole lot of weight. More than 100 lbs and counting, to be exact. It's brought me a long way and as long as I keep doing it, I can reach my weight loss goal and maintain it once I'm there. So, even after everything it's done for me, why would I think of not doing it any more?

The answer is: my own dumb self. My previous post was about the motivations that I use to keep me going in my running, because when it comes down to it, I really have to convince myself to keep at it. Every time I plan to run, I have serious arguments with myself, because "just this once", I'd like to sleep in, or lay in bed and watch TV, or read a book, or whatever.  The worst part of every run I do is when I make myself put on my running clothes and shoes, and go out the door. The second worst part is the first mile or so, during which I whine to myself about how it's only the first mile and I still have a really long way to go. So how am I able to keep doing it? It's a funny thing, really. Despite this minor difficulty that I have getting going, every time I run, after I get through the annoying first part, I stop thinking about how far I have to go, and just enjoy what is around me. I focus on my pace and my surroundings and don't really notice the passage of time and distance. When I finish, I have a sense of accomplishment that I did what I set out to do. And then I reap the rewards. The few hours a week I spend running translate into calories burned, higher metabolism, increased endurance, and so on. The enjoyment is not just the actual time I spend running, it's the way it makes me feel all the time. I like to think of it as training for everyday life. During my regular runs, I keep a basic pace, just enough to get a good workout without making myself overly tired. Keeping that basic routine of running a few times a week helps me feel good all day, every day, and that makes it worth the time, money and energy I spend doing it.

So I've established that running is a great way to become fit and help maintain a healthy lifestyle. So what's the deal with racing? I've done some races here and there, but I've never won a single one, and I never will. I would be happy to come in the top 50% of runners in a race, to be honest. So what's the point? You pay a hefty registration fee to enter, but all you get is a shirt, a number to wear on your shirt, a chip to wear on your shoe that will tell you how fast you went, and the admission to a place to run. So logically, it doesn't make sense. You already have shirts, you probably already have a watch to time yourself with (I use an app on my phone), and you can find places to run for free. So why race if you can't win? I mean, in addition to the financial commitment, a race itself can take a lot out of you. If it's anything more than a 5k, you shouldn't just sign up and do it. You need to prepare and train to be sure you are up for the challenge of the distance you have committed to, and even if you are already a casual runner, it might be a bit more than you are normally comfortable with. So why do it?

It's all in the experience. It's the challenge and the atmosphere. It starts when you pay for your registration, and begin to train for the race. You feel a little excited, but maybe a little nervous, too. And that feeling grows as you get closer to the day of the race. Then, when you arrive the day before the race to pick up your packet, there's already a festive feeling in the air. Everyone is excited, and you get start to get more excited too. They hand you your bib and your new shirt and even if it's ugly and you would never wear it in public, you still get excited to have it.

shoe timer thingy

not too ugly. Queen Mary could be smaller...

OC Half Marathon bib, timing chip & shirt.

 

Long Beach bib with Beach Cities logo!

 Then the day of the race arrives. You have to get there early to make sure you have enough time to jockey for parking spaces with other would-be racers, then queue up for the great Wall Of Port O'Potties before heading to the starting line. But once you get there, even though you know it's going to be a while before you see the finish line, you feel a sense of anticipation and excitement because you know you are about to share the experience with hundreds or even thousands of people who are just as crazy as you.

Long Beach Marathon & Half Marathon sunrise

Surf City runners! Huntington Beach, CA

And then the race starts. Remember what I said earlier about maintaining a steady pace and not making yourself tired? The race is the exception to that rule. This is when you test yourself to see what you are capable of. From start to finish, you push yourself as hard as you can, and when you are done, you should feel like you've got nothing left to give. Call the spouse and kids to bring a forklift and a stretcher, because they are carrying you home. But the race isn't just about the finish. Don't forget to enjoy the route. It's new and interesting and different from your usual route. Most races close streets for much of the routes, and while it sucks for the neighbors, you get to run in places that normally you wouldn't be able to. When the location is somewhere you frequently drive, you might catch things you normally miss because you are running by it instead of whizzing by in your car.

Long Beach starting line. Outta my way.

Long Beach first mile. Not tired yet...

Long Beach Mile Two. Smells like fish.

Long Beach Mile Three. Or Five. I forget. Fire boat looks cool!

Surf City Mile Four. Still Not Tired.

Long Beach Mile 7. Ok, maybe a little tired now.

Surf City Mile 12. Definitely Tired. But almost there.

Surf City Finish Line. Preparing my medal speech.

But of course, the best part is the finish line. No matter how tired you are, you are guaranteed to get that last bit of energy when you see it coming up, enough to put you across with a spring in your step, and a smile on your face. And the best part? The medals! Not every race gets you a medal, but if you get one, you put it on and wear it proudly, grinning like an idiot, surrounded by a crowd of other grinning idiots wearing the same medal. It's awesome. The strap is sweaty and gross after a minute or so, and you'll never wear it again, but like the ugly shirt they gave you, you will always treasure it like the most expensive piece of jewelry you ever owned, because it doesn't just represent that day's race, but all the work you put into training and completing that goal that you set for yourself.

Surf City

Long Beach

OC

OC Medal & Finisher Cert.

Long Beach Medal. Finisher Cert is in the mail...

Surf City Medal and Finisher Cert.

Beach Cities Medal. It's HUGE. Like running 3 half Marathons is HUGE.

Finally, after a race, you get to celebrate. Go out with friends and loved ones, and eat like a crazy person for one day because you really earned it. When you get home, find a conspicuous location and hang your medal on it (or your race bib, if no medal is given). If you liked the race, think about doing another one. But even if you never do, just enjoy your accomplishment, and get back out and keep your regular running routine.

Running and racing have absolutely changed my life. I have gotten as far as I have because of it. I love doing both, and I know I would still enjoy the running if I didn't race, but racing is like the icing on the cake for me. I have run 9 races including the 3 half marathons, with more races coming up soon on my fitness "to do" list. Now that I've lost a lot of weight, I am physically able to do a lot of activities that I love and couldn't do before because of my physical limitations. I really enjoy doing so many different things now, but I will continue to dedicate myself mostly to running and training for races, because of all it has done for me and continues to do.

So what about everyone else? I would like to encourage my readers here to find something that does for them what running did for me. If you want to try running, that's great! Start out slow and build yourself up to whatever level you feel comfortable maintaining (like I did). See how many of your friends are runners and ask their advice. You can even join a running club! But if you hate the idea of running, there are plenty of other things you can do that will get the old body moving. Try lots of different activities, and when one of them clicks for you, look into friendly competition, whether it's a race or game or something similar. Share the experience that you love with like minded people, and enjoy the rewards of being active and healthy. I am incredibly glad I did, and guarantee you will be too. Find your activity, whatever it may be,  and get out there and have fun!

That's all for now, my friends. As usual, thank you for reading, and see you next time!

What's Your Motivation?

Well, here we go again for another round in blog-land. Sorry it's been so long, but lately I've been having trouble thinking of things to write about. When I first started doing this, it was easy because I had so many things on my mind that I wanted to share. Now, I find myself starting a post, only to feel like maybe I might be repeating myself and becoming...*gasp*...boring.  God forbid.  That's not to say I have slowed down or stalled in my fitness efforts, I just struggle to find new things to say about them. Of course, life is full of little fits and starts, surprises, realizations, epiphanies and whatnot. Unfortunately for me, most of the time topics come to mind when I'm nowhere near my computer, and by the time I sit down to start a post, whatever was in my brain has already fallen out. Thankfully I have enough to put a few words out here and there, so here's the latest.

Lately my mind has been on the things that have kept me going during the time I've been undergoing this strange but wonderful transformation in my life.  That is, what motivates me to do what I do. What is it that I do exactly? It changes from day to day, really, from the basic to what some might consider difficult or extreme.  I watch what I eat. I make sure to get enough rest, and I run a couple short routes during the week. And once a week, I get up to run hours before the sun comes up, just to have time to get in as many miles as possible before I have to endure life-sucking UV rays and heat. I am not by any definition a morning person, yet on those days when that crack-of "Oh My God, Are You Kidding" alarm goes off, I get up, get going, and gladly git 'r done.  Did I spell that wrong? I don't know, I'm from California. But I digress... The truth is, what I do is not easy, and there is a whole lot of planning, effort, and occasionally pain involved. That's why most people generally don't do what I do. And that's why for most of my life, I didn't do what I now do. So what made it possible and keeps me going now? Here are a few things.

It started out, as I previously posted, simply with the desire to lose weight and be healthy. I had that desire for many years, yet kept making excuses because I knew it would be very difficult to get where I wanted to be physically. I tried quick fixes here and there, but I always failed because I didn't change my habits regarding food and especially exercise. Until that silly encounter with the hotel bathroom mirror. You've heard that story before, but I just need to mention it in this post because that was, of course, my first motivation to start making serious changes. It is a moment that is seared into my mind so indelibly that I can never hide from it, and even now pushes me to keep moving forward. In that instant, in seeing that I looked so bad, so unhealthy, and so very very sad, I knew it was time to take notice and stop making excuses. It was the first driving force of motivation, and it got me off and running, so to speak.

After the initial "aha moment", though, I still found myself struggling to keep making the right choices and to stick to the plan. Old habits kept their power over me until I realized it was simply the feelings of enjoyment they gave me that were my downfall, not the habits themselves. If I could enjoy a healthy lifestyle as much as the unhealthy one, I would have a better chance to succeed. But how? As a lifetime of habits are hard to change, the replacements must as appealing as whatever they are replacing in order for the changes to stick. When I first decided to make the changes in my life I was the ultimate couch potato. I was sitting almost all of the time, spending all day at my desk at work and then heading straight home to sit in front of the TV from the time I got there until the time I went to sleep. So, when I first started going for walks, I wasn't used to being physically active. I found it difficult, uncomfortable, boring and a little embarrassing. I needed to make going for walks fun, or at least slightly less than horrible to make it worth it to get out and get going. How could I make it something to look forward to?  I needed distractions and I needed them now.

The first thing that helped motivate me was music. I know I'm not the only one. It seems that nearly every person you see jogging or working out has a gadget strapped to their arm with ear buds firmly in place. Why? Because listening to music helps distract you from the fact that you are tired and sweaty, that parts of your body are bouncing and flapping, and that you are surrounded by much thinner people doing the same thing as you but looking much more attractive while doing it. I put together playlists of everything from my old favorites to the latest and greatest, and looked forward to taking time out from life to enjoy them. I don't listen to music while running much anymore, but count it as one of the larger motivations that helped me get moving in the early, most critical days of my transformation.
Another motivation to get me off the couch and out the door has been my love of spending time in the "great outdoors", or at least our local version of it. From the beginning, I've mapped routes in places that have nice things to look at, like beaches, parks, and hills with views of the city. I've changed my routes and occasionally re-map them from time to time to increase distance and difficulty (and to find ones with drinking fountains and bathrooms), but tend to stick with routes that have some sort of nice view, even if it's just so I can take a picture of it when I'm out, post it on Facebook and say, "I'm out here and you're not. Nyah, nyah, nyah."

I've been at this fitness thing for nearly two years now. Wow! I've come such a long way that you'd think I would no longer need to look for motivations to keep going. I've got a reasonable plan and routine in place, stick to it fairly well, and enjoy it very much. Most days I feel good and don't have difficulty keeping up with my routine. And yet, there are those mornings that I just want to stay in bed, or if I plan to run after work, I'd really rather just stay in, watch TV and relax. It's not every day, but more often than I'd like to admit. What's the harm in missing a run here and there? Now, the human body does need to rest and recoup after running, in order to recover and repair any damage done. But if too much time is taken off, it's so easy to slip back into old habits. This is one of my biggest fears, knowing how I used to be and how easy it could be for me to go back to that if I gradually let my guard down. I can't let that happen and need motivation to keep me focused when I'm faced with those days when my get-up-and-go has got-up-and-went.

One of the things that helps me with this is to have friends who are runners. Talking to them about my progress and listening them talk about theirs (while never EVER comparing myself to them) helps me a great deal. You see, having someone to encourage you who understands what you are doing and why you are doing it is a very powerful motivation! I was really surprised to find how many people I know are runners. In my workplace alone I count a great many co-workers as fellow runners. They motivate me to keep going at my own pace, and I know that I couldn't have gotten as far as I have without having them around to talk to, commiserate with, and laugh about the inevitable pitfalls of participating in our chosen sport.

Another motivation to keep running is signing up for races. I run race distances up to half marathons, and have found that few things can get my butt out of bed at the crack of dawn for training runs on Saturday faster than knowing I've shelled out a sizable sum of $$$ to join an upcoming race. When you sign up and pay, it becomes real, and for sure you want to be ready when the day of the race arrives. You want to finish the thing of course, and you sure as heck don't want to come in last. For me racing has been a huge motivation to keep running my regular routes, looking forward to race day and seeing what I can do when I get out and cross the starting line.

Finally, for me the best motivation of them all has been: RESULTS. This doesn't come into play until you have been going at your chosen plan for some time, but once it starts to kick in, it really goes a long way toward keeping you going. What kind of results? For me it has been losing the weight, of course. Every time I get on the scale and see the number has dropped, it boosts my morale and makes me excited for the next time I can get out there and walk, jog, and now, run. And whenever the number goes up....OOOOOPS...it boosts my resolve to get back on track and stop slacking. Even at this point when I'm reaching the end of my weight loss quest, that still motivates me the same as it did from the first few weeks I was at it. Losing weight is harder now, but I still have the same desire and am still working toward it because I look forward to the day when I can finally say, "I did it! I made it! I reached my goal!" And more than any other motivation, that is what gets me out on the road on a weeknight after a long day at work, or up early on a Saturday, out the door in the dark, and off down the LA river to the marina, the beach and back.

What it comes down to is this. I have accomplished some pretty crazy things this past couple years, but it hasn't been easy. I'm still always fighting to stay on track and find motivations to keep going.  The ultimate result and greatest motivation for me now is that I'm at the point where I am capable of doing more than I ever thought possible before. Yup, folks, it turns out the sky's the limit, and I'm proof that all you have to do is decide to reach for it. You may be like I was, wanting to lose weight and be healthy. Maybe you want to see what you are capable of, or just want to learn something new. Whatever you want to do, just decide to stop putting it off. Get started, do the best you can, find your motivations, and you will be surprised at what you can do. I know I was!

Thanks again for reading! Until next time...  :)

Getting Back Into The Swing Of Things

I love routine. Schedules, plans, organization, routine. I'm one of those people that functions almost entirely by routine. I plan everything in my life weeks and months ahead, and people laugh at me when they see me planning next month's projects when they are still catching up on this month's. My fitness routine is no exception, I am always writing down and planning when I'm going to walk, run, hike, whatever. I make calendars. Lots and lots of calendars. I like knowing what to expect and take comfort in knowing that planning ahead makes sure that everything is going to go just exactly the way it should. Right? Well, not always...  Unfortunately, we don't live in a perfect world, and there's often very little we can do when life slings mud at us. Oh how annoying it is when something pops up and messes with my nice, neat, carefully planned perfect routine.  I've been lucky so many weeks to get that routine just perfectly right, that I often take it for granted, I'm able to do everything I want to do and keep making great strides forward. Until one day BOOM life slings the ol' mud blob right into the works.

It could start with the itchy throat. You know the feeling. You try to tell yourself, "it's just allergies, it will go away by tomorrow, I'll still be able to get out for my scheduled run". But tomorrow instead of flying down your favorite route like an Olympian, you find yourself in bed with your friends OJ and Puffs by your side, drifting in and out of a Nyquil induced coma while posting your misery on Facebook and watching old episodes of Xena on Netflix.  A few days later, you feel a little bit perky, but even in the best of these pesky illnesses, it will be at least a week before you can strap on the old running shoes again. And it's not just illness that can take you out of the running, as it were. Most of us who have been doing this running thing for any length of time know that injury comes with the territory. We do what we can to avoid it, but our bodies are only human, and susceptible to the wear and tear of the constant beating it takes. Pulled or tired muscles, creaky joints, trips and falls, any number of things can pop up, and you need to take time off to rest and let your body rebuild itself.  Or what about vacation? Who Googles vacation destinations before they leave to map out running routes in the area they are going to make sure they don't fall behind on their training? Um, actually, I do. But even with that planning I am still not able to always stick to my goal because of time constraints, route issues (omg, that hill was NOT on the map!), weather, etc.  So I come back from vac all flabby and flaccid and knowing that the next time I put on the running shoes, it's not going to be pretty.

Why is it so hard to get going again after taking time off? I mean, the first run after a long time off from running is always brutal. You feel like you have lead weights on your ankles, and you have to remind your feet and legs what they are supposed to do. One foot in front of the other, stupid! To put things in perspective, of course, it's not like it's the same as starting from the beginning. I mean, running a 6 mile route in around 1 hour, 15 minutes, is a huge improvement over where I started, when I could barely finish walking 3 miles in about an hour, let alone running 6 at all. But I feel bummed when I turn in that time now, because I know that I can do that 6 miles ten minutes faster than that, and want to be back up to speed. It's kind of like three steps forward, one step back. I hate coming back from a "break" knowing it will be at least a week, probably a lot more, before I can get back up to the level where I was before, and crossing my fingers for as many good weeks in a row as I can get, hoping more setbacks don't come up. It stinks that our bodies lose so much of their endurance when we get taken out of our fitness routines for awhile. I mean, Netflix and the Post Office let us put holds on our service when we are on vacation, can't we do that with our bodies?

The good news is, our bodies are really good at healing themselves. Whether it's an illness, injury, or just a short bout with vacation sloth, if we make it a priority to live healthy lives overall, when the time comes to weather a setback, we are able to get back on that horse and ride when it's over and done. It's really just an issue of mind over matter. Just like when we first started out, we have to convince ourselves all over again that it's worth it to get out, get moving, and get the routine going again. But once we take those first steps forward again, everything falls back into place. It's just a matter of remembering to take it slow and easy at first, and enjoying it whether we are at the top of our game or just working our way back up.

I'm writing this because the mud slinging fairies of life have seemed to take a personal vengeance on me as of late. A little over a month ago I went through a particularly nasty cold that ended with the most lovely infection in my lungs (which is just awesome for an asthmatic like myself), and after nearly 3 weeks of recovery, I was just getting back out and up to speed when I pulled a hamstring or some other such nonsense in my left leg, which knocked me "out of the running" for another week before I dared get out on it again. So for the past week and a half I've been slowly and carefully working my way back into my routine. It's been awhile since I was at my best, but I have patience and know it won't be long before I'm back on track. Because germs and such be damned, I know I can still get my mojo back, no matter how long it takes. Take that, mud slinging fairies of life, kiss my dust. I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack...

Thanks for reading! See you next time...

Tahoe Life: Friends, Family, Home.

Home. It's where the heart is, as they say. But what does that mean? I don't know exactly, but this is going to be my attempt to put it into words.  We all have someplace we idealize in the back of our mind as home. It's a place we think of that brings feelings of familiarity, comfort, belonging. For many of us, the place or places where we grew up and spent the most time of our lives growing, learning, and becoming who we are now, are what we think of as the idealized "home".

Anyone reading this knows by now that I was born and raised at Lake Tahoe. For those who are not familiar with Tahoe, here it is.

West Shore of Tahoe, view from Eagle Rock

Wow, right? What a beautiful place! Why would anyone ever want to leave this? Believe me, it really wasn't easy.

Kaspian Point, West Shore of Tahoe

West Shore of Tahoe, view from Rubicon Bay

North-East Shore of Tahoe,
view from above Incline Village

Sand Harbor, North-East Shore of Tahoe

Being a Tahoe kid is a badge I am extremely proud to wear. I love the memories I have of growing up in a place where everybody knows everybody, we all share the experiences of life in the mountains, and know that the joy of living in such a beautiful, idyllic place also comes with dealing with cold and snow in winter, road construction in summer, and tourists, high prices, and unpredictable wildlife year round. It's a lot of work to live at Tahoe, while it's easy to love it, it's not easy to live there. So, as much as we enjoy it, it happens that many of us who grow up at Tahoe still find ourselves moving on to lower elevations with higher populations. That moment came for me about 16 years ago. I had a job at the Lake, was making ends meet, then I got an offer to come down to Long Beach for a "temporary" gig as a live-in caretaker for a friend's mom. I remember when I got there, immediately I got excited that the nearest grocery store was a only few blocks away, the bus came more than once an hour, and the movie theaters had more than one screen. I loved the city right away because it is oh so much more convenient than living at Tahoe. And then there were the temperatures in Long Beach. It rarely gets colder than the 50's, and most of the time it's just right in the 70's.  So, even after that job ended, I stayed. It's been 16 years since I moved to Long Beach, and in that time I've never had to shovel or de-ice anything, ever. Life is good.

However, the life I enjoy in Southern California doesn't take anything away from the memories I have of the place I grew up. It's only 500 miles away, and I make a trip up there at least once a year, most years I make it up two or three times. My parents still live there (the true die-hards) so we can go any time. I take any chance I can to go back and visit, to see my parents and old friends. to bring my family and anyone else I can get to join us to see and experience the place that has such great meaning to me.

Whenever I make the drive to Tahoe, I always get the familiar feelings of home as soon as I begin to pass through the areas I knew growing up. In central CA, it's Fresno, Turlock, and Sacramento, places I spent visiting relatives as a kid. Not exciting places, but places with good memories. But the "home" feeling doesn't start to really hit until I begin to climb mountains. I know several completely different routes into Tahoe, each one beautiful, amazing and memorable. My FB friends know, they've seen the photos. Wait, here's another one now.

Emerald Bay, West Shore of Tahoe

Ahhhhh, Emerald Bay. Probably one of the most photographed places in the Tahoe Basin. And you can see why. But it has more than just scenic meaning for me. When the tourists see this place, they just see a photo op. When I see it, it means I'm almost home. Mom and Dad's house is just 10 minutes down the road from here.

Arriving at my parent's house is always a joy. Walking in, seeing that it looks pretty much the same as it did the day I left 16 years ago. The living room with the Morris Chair and the man-eater sofa. The front yard with Mom's tulips, peonies, and the trees that were a whole lot smaller when I was a kid. And the back yard with the picnic table my dad built, the fire pit and the big, green striped lawn swing.

big bash in the family back yard, our summertime tradition at Tahoe

  

The night is not complete without making S'mores

The next generation of Tahoe kids

While at the lake, it's hard to choose between staying at the house, resting, and enjoying the slow motion pace of Tahoe life, or going out to DO STUFF. Because there is so much to do! I've mentioned in my previous posts about my favorite Tahoe activities, now when I bring my family and guests along, I hope they will enjoy them as much as I did and still do. It's not just the activity and the place, it's the association that it has for me. Here is the creek I used to fish in. Here are the dirt roads I used to ride along with my dad. Here are the beaches my mom brought us to spend the day swimming, the pier my brother, our friends and I used to jump off of and tell the tourists that the water isn't cold. Here is the big rock you can hike to the top of for the most amazing view of the Lake you can imagine. Each place has so many memories, and every time I go back I find myself just a little lost in the past, hoping those that I brought along for the ride are making some good memories for themselves.

rafting on the Truckee River

getting stuck in the mud at Prosser Lake.
at least the tow truck guy got stuck worse than I did...

creek walking at General Creek, Sugar Pine Point St. Park

skipping rocks at Kaspian Point

As much as the scenery and fond memories of Tahoe places have for me, the main thing that keeps me coming back again and again are the people. Of course, my parents are there. As long as Mom and Dad are there, it's home. Then there are my old friends, former classmates, and the rest who, unlike me, found reason to stay up there. I have reconnected with many of them through various means, mostly FB, where I open my page every day to see all sorts of posts, comments, pictures and such about life at Tahoe. Every time I get ready to go back, I make sure everyone on FB knows, so they can plan accordingly for my arrival. Of course I joke about that, and yet I am surprised by how many people I end up reconnecting with every time I go back. Because no matter how many years pass, how much life has brought us, we are still connected, still the same deep down.

Former Big A Club kids!

High School Reunion!

Sunday morning at First Baptist Church of Tahoe City!

Going home to Tahoe is sweet. I look forward to every trip. But I still love my life in the city, and as much as I get the feelings of home on my way up to the Lake, I start to get them when I leave Tahoe, too, thinking about everything from looking forward to seeing my friends, co-workers and church family in So Cal to mundane everyday life: laundry, work, sleeping in my own bed. I know that I am very blessed to have so much to be thankful for, that I had a wonderful place to grow up, and now I have a great place to raise my own kids. The best part is, I get to have both! I get to live where I enjoy life the most, and still go back to relive some of the best parts of my past. And I think it probably can't get better than that.

In two weeks we'll be heading back to Tahoe for the last week of summer vacation.  We're making plans, getting ready, and looking forward to the trip. But for now, the laundry still calls.  Until then, I've got my memories to tide me over. And these pictures. Enjoy my parting shot...

Emerald Bay at Sunrise. I know, not again. I can't help myself....

Out On The Harbor

I've lived in Southern California for awhile now.  I moved here from Tahoe in 1996, and since then, for the most part I've been satisfied to stay inside. The city is boring, I thought, and I wouldn't be able to find adventure here the way I did back home up in the mountains.  But, over the past year as I've become more active I've found myself getting cabin fever from time to time. I enjoy my time outside running, but there are other activities to enjoy outside as well. When I was a kid, I used to love being on the water. Canoeing was one of my favorite activities and I enjoyed hours on the water paddling at Tahoe, or camps I worked at, or wherever I could find a boat to get in, a paddle to move it with, and a pond to float on. 

So, it happed that in March of last year, I overheard one of my co-workers talking about how he had been kayaking in the harbor at Huntington Beach, and the old light bulb went off over my head. Of course there are water sports in So Cal. It's near the ocean and all. Duhhhh. So I went to the ol' Google, looked up some rental places, read some Yelp reviews, and settled on Sunset Kayaks for my first trip out. It had been so long since I'd done anything like it, at first I thought maybe it wasn't such a good idea. As the tattooed 50-something surfer guy I rented from pushed me out in my kayak with a photocopy map of the harbor and a hearty "have fun", I noticed first of all, that I seemed to be sinking. Apparently kayaks have holes in the bottom, on purpose. And being as how I had just started out my fitness program, I was still pretty heavy. The boat had several inches of water in it, and my whole back end was soaked. But I figured I should still give it a shot. It took me a few minutes to get my rhythm back, but before long it was like I'd never stopped. That first day I just paddled around the inside parts of the harbor, enjoying the scenery, enjoying the peace and quiet. Here are a couple of the views I took in on that first day: 

Who would've thought we had scenery here in the big city? Not me...

Over the last year and a half, I've gone back to Huntington Harbor many times, always renting from Tattoo Surfer Guy. If you go on a weekday he lets you keep the boat as long as you want, and only charges you for the two hour rate. Now that's a great deal for someone like me, because I like to spend a long time out enjoying the ride. I've been through the harbor so many times I know every twist and turn, and I know where all the parks and bathrooms are. I even take a picnic with me most times.  I arrive early, I'm usually the first customer, and I go whether it's fog or shine. It doesn't matter what the weather is, I dress accordingly and get out there. 

I actually like the foggy days, for one thing there is NO ONE else out there, I have the whole place to myself. And the scene is mysterious and maybe even a little haunting.

blue heron standing guard

I also like sunny days, despite the fact that I have to cover up with an ugly hat and a thick layer of SPF 4 million. It doesn't really matter what the weather is like, so long as I can be out there.

last November I found some fall colors in So Cal.

look! it's me with hair! red hair...

On occasion I am lucky enough to have a companion. Usually the trip is a bit shorter when someone is with me because unlike me, they don't want to keep going until their butts are numb and they have blisters on the inside of their thumbs.  Most recently my son has been my victim...er, companion.  As you can see here, he's having a blast.

One of the things I really enjoy during my kayak trips is seeing a lot of wildlife. It's amazing to me to see the variety of birds and other critters I encounter while paddling around. Here are some of the animals I've encountered on my trips.

pelican taking flight

Ssssshhhhh, guys. Stand still, maybe she won't see us...

this sea lion has followed me a few times.

cormorants guarding the dock.

crab hiding in his little mud house

My favorite part is actually not really in the harbor, but just outside. There is a nature sanctuary just north of the harbor, and you're not supposed to go in, but if you stay right on the edge you will still be able to see quite a bit of wildlife. There are birds nesting out there, which is why it's protected. It stinks that we can't go into the preserve, but I understand the reasoning. The birds I see out there the most are blue herons and egrets, pictured here: 

The first time I went over there, I didn't know the nature preserve was off limits, so I did go and paddle up the river there for quite some ways. I only managed to get one picture before a burly, tattooed guy in fatigues with a big gun came running out of the bushes demanding to know what I was doing there. Oooops. The US Government takes their bird nesting very seriously, it seems. At least they let me go with just a stern warning, and I got to go in there once and see what was there.

shortly before being busted by the feds.

For the past year and a half I've really been enjoying these trips. At first I did tend to sink the boat a bit lower than I liked, but as time passed and I lost weight, the boat didn't sink quite so much, I didn't get as tired, and I found I could go faster. I still get sunburned though. Darn sun. Oh, and my rental guy always gets a funny look on his face when I show up. He sort of recognizes me, but he can't quite remember who I am because every time he sees me, I've lost another 10 lbs and cut my hair shorter. 

At least he did remember one time that my name starts with an "M".

So what it really boils down to is the experience.  I love the views, as you can see. I love the sound of the paddle cutting through the water, and of water lapping against the shore, or my boat, or the other boats in the harbor. I love the sound of the birds calling, even the raucous seagulls screaming at each other over some fisherman's abandoned bait. I love the sensation of the boat floating on the water, from calm water to choppy waves caused by wind or boat wakes. And it doesn't hurt that it burns a whole lot of calories in addition to being a great deal of fun. I love the whole experience, and wish I could do it more often than once a month or so. I'd really like to explore some other areas as I could pretty much do Huntington in my sleep by now. I just have to find a rental place with a deal as good as Tattoo Surfer Guy. I want to explore the Long Beach and Naples Island area, and eventually get out in the ocean. There are some cool tours, and lots of places to go. I'd love to even have my own kayak, now that would be a dream come true. But until then, I'm happy to cure my cabin fever with a few hours out in Huntington Harbor, enjoying the views of my little corner of the ocean.  Hope you enjoyed them too.

just past the buoys is the forbidden zone...

these ice plants stay red like that all year round. 

the bridge to Trinidad Island

and now for a round of bridge-kayak limbo. how low can you go?