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Okay, I know many of you have all but given up on this blog and thinking Jonathan and I are major slacker bloggers… We’re both sorry. It turned out to be difficult coming up with posts for a blog that started as a venue for the road trip, rock climbing, and adventure, and now we’re landlocked in Kansas with no rock crags in sight. Index will continue. The blog will peak with roadtrips throughout the year, and we’re both thinking of local adventures to keep the blog stimulated. Jonathan will be exploring streams and rivers in the area to improve his fly fishing abilities and will likely catch zen-like moments more often than fish. He’ll also be visiting local farms, learning the finer details of farming, like how to raise and humanely get meat on his table, how to ride a horse bareback, and overall will set out to learn all the things he thinks everyone should know how to do. I will will dig into sustainable agriculture, exploring the art and lifestyle of permaculture, growing my own vegetables, composting and completing the cycle. I am also excited to get back to riding a bike in the Spring and Summer, so there will be lots to share. We will also maintain our (ahem) weekly portraits, so please don’t give up on Index.
The new blog will encompass every other aspect of us. The context will be much broader with very few limitations. It will include but is not limited to things we’re learning, things we find interesting, beautiful, projects we’re working on, ideas we’re exploring, thoughts about life, and life cycles, food we love, things we cook, restaurants that change the way we think about food, books we’re reading, ways to improve the way we live, and ways to save the planet, and everything in between. It will follow more of the day-to-day of our life.
So check out the new blog!
I had a head full of information and I was ready to decompress. It was about 12:30 in the afternoon and I decided the best thing for me would be a little run. I set out to explore the trails I had recently discovered near the house. I have run out there a few times since the coyote incident, and found that the trail continues to follow the creek and went further than I had ventured. I found a map online for the trail system (see below, I am not sure what the Hiking part is, this whole area is virtually flat), and noticed that at one point it loops around a little pond. I set out to find this part of the trail, do the loop and come home.
It felt so good to be outside. I was breathing cool air, the sky was a consistant grey without sun, but everything was bright. The air smelled of damp earth and moss. I am sure I was smiling. There isn’t much foot or bike traffic out here, so I was alone on the trail and it felt great. I fell into a steady rhythm and my brain kept me pre-occupied with puzzles of life, projects I am working on, and dreaming up new ones. Every once in awhile I would “come to” with the screaming of a circling hawk, or when I noticed something in the landscape: a squirrel collecting leaves, a dog barking, a fork in the path that required a decision, that I had just ran through a puddle or slid on some ice.
I was rather startled when I came around one bend and found myself chasing 6 deer. My pace didn’t slow, in fact I think I picked it up. I pictured myself as part of wildlife, one animal chasing another in a scene from history. I had just finished the book “Born to Run” by Christopher McDougall. He makes the case that humans evolved into a running species. That our bodies are designed for running (no Nikes needed, thank you very much). That we actually can hunt by running things to death. I had no intention of attempting to run these animals to death, but I will admit that it was pretty entertaining. I stayed on the path running toward them. They sprinted ahead about 30 feet, then would stop, scatter and freeze. I would catch up and they would do it again criss-crossing down the path. There was a fence on the right that a few ran towards, and one into, but they didn’t jump over it. The creek was on the left, with plenty of woodland for them to loose me in, but for about half a mile the chase continued. Me at a constant pace, them scamperering and waiting for me to catch up. Finally the path widened, they pulled over and spread out in the trees to let me pass.
The trail kept winding its way around I felt strong and happy. The path split at a little park, so I went in the direction of what I thought would soon lead me around the pond. Some small birds were mating in the shrubs, and creating quite a racket. I was distracted by my thoughts, the sounds and the beauty, but I never saw the pond. I either passed it or took a wrong turn somewhere. Very abrubtly the trail just ended. It dumped me onto a road. That’s it, trail over. No sign or anything (that I noticed anyway).
I just jumped onto the sidewalk and kept running. I debated turning around and just zig-zagging my way home down the path, but thought better of it. I was sure that I had logged quite a few miles already and was well aware that it was wise for me to start heading home. It seemed to me that if I stayed on the main roads which are direct and straight, I would save myself a little time on the way back. I didn’t know what road I was on, or which direction I was headed. I just ran to the next intersection and turned onto a road I had never heard of. You would think that I would have noticed that the streets perpendicular to my path were numbered, and going up rather than down. I didn’t. I just ran on autopilot. I thought I was headed home, but was very wrong. I started passing signs indicating that I was in Olathe: the Olathe Fire Department, religious schools of Olathe, nothing looked familiar. There is one thing I knew – I live in Overland Park which is the town North of Olathe. Oh shit, I thought, now I had done it. I jumped into a 7-11 to ask for directions. He confirmed that I had indeed ventured pretty far South and had quite a run home.
I just turned around, and headed East. I still felt strong. I was starting to calculate my distance though, and was doubting that I would be able to make it home. I had gone about 10 or more miles before turning around. That means I still had that much ahead of me to get home. It was getting colder too. My brain turned against me. I tried to tell myslef that this was a fun adventure and I could make it home, but I kept hearing a voice inside telling me that I can’t run that far – how could I have gotten myself so turned around…Great.
I trudged down a large 4 lane road surrounded by fields. The landscape here is funny. It is pretty flat, so you don’t have much to reference. Over the fields you can see for what seems like miles. The only building visible all look the same, it is very disorienting. I passed an airport. I could have been in another country this area was so foriegn to me. I tried to focus on running. What were my arms doing? How was my stride? The funniest thing though was that I wasn’t even breathing very hard. I had run further than usual and I actually didn’t feel winded, and my body was still going. I turned down a road that I remembered going under when I was on the trail. The time spent on the trail was much more enjoyable than that on these big roads with cars and exhaust so, I decided to make my way back to the trail. I was relieved when I found the trail. Finally after what now seemed like forever, I was recognizing my surroundings. I could gage how far I was and approximately how much further I had to go.
My mental endurance was cracking before the physical though. I psyched myself out in the last 5 miles. My achilies tendons were starting to hurt, my fingers were cold. I stopped to stretch and rub my ankles. I walked for a bit, but walking actually hurt more than jogging. So, I jogged. My pace had considerably slowed. I felt like I was dragging my body forward. Suddenly a biker was taking shape and coming towards me. It was a familiar shape, and I realized it was Jonathan. He had come out looking for me. I had been gone over 3 hours. Seeing him, I was suddenly exhausted and ready to give up. I just wanted to jump on the bike and have him ride me home. But I didn’t. He rode home to get the car and meet on the main road so that he could shave the last couple of blocks off of my trip. I beat him to the intersection we were supposed to meet on, so I just kept jogging towards home. He picked me up 2 blocks from home. I was cold and tired and ready to collapse when I walked inside. I turned the shower on, but didn’t have the strength to stand up. I just sat there and let the hot water warm my body. I wasted a lot of water. Finally the water started to turn cold, so I bundled up and crawled into my bed. I passed out for about 2 hours.
I woke up and felt surprisingly good. My muscles were tight, my head was a little woozy (I hadn’t eaten all day), but I was coming to the realization of how far I had run. I think it took getting myself lost to prove that I could run that far. I have been pretty comforatable jogging a couple of miles at a time, up to about 8. I still thought of marathon distances as absurd, but I had just coming pretty close to a marathon and I hadn’t even meant to. That is inspiration for my future runs. Now that I know I can, I want to train harder and longer so that I can do it more gracefully and on purpose.
The star is an approximation of our house just North of where the map ends (and my run began/ends). The red line is the route I took. The image here is small and hard to read, but I have added the link to the pdf if anyone wants to see it better. overland park trail
The winter broke slightly, warmed up just enough to allow for running outside. A new adventure: runs in the suburbs of Kansas City. It is more entertaining than I would have expected. The family has 3 standard runs they refer to, and these are what I was running when we first arrived (weather permitting). There is the small lap, which is about 3 miles and is a 5 block square. Then there is the golf course lap, which is kind of an out-and-back run. We run out about 3 blocks, then cut back onto the golf course and follow the edge of the golf course back to the house. This lap is about 2.5 miles. The other significant route is the “big lap”. This combines the small lap run with another couple of blocks to make a large 6 mile loop. I started on the golf course lap, graduated to the small loop, and now regularly hit the big lap.
These runs are all on a pavement path alongside the busy traffic. I get bored, and would prefer an exploratory run, something a bit more meandering and less predictable. I find myself dreaming about joining the local trail running groups (the trail nerds, or the mud babes). They are anti-pavement (understandably), and meet a couple of times a week to pound out some miles at local parks and trails. I haven’t been able to synch my schedule with theirs yet, and maybe I am just a bit intimidated by the fact that they train for ultramarathons on muddy terrain. Until I become a “Mud Babe”, I will just do variations of our loops, get to the parks when I can, and just overall build up my base so that the trails don’t kick my ass too badly.
One evening around dusk, I decided to squeeze in a late run before it was completely dark. I started out on the “big lap”, but a couple of blocks into it I noticed that the path split. I was looking for an adventure, feeling pretty good, and didn’t care where I ended up. The air was crisp and cold, the kind that makes you feel a bit like you are having an asthma attack just breathing. The light was drifting away, but I had a few good minutes of sunset illumination. I took the new path. It took me underneath on overpass, and along a creek (I can’t tell out here which waterways are natural, which are man made, this one looks ornamental in placement as it winds around the golf course and then out to the business section – maybe it is just for runoff.). I was delighted to leave the sound and sight of the road. The creek was quietly bubbling along, frozen in spots. The path stretched out before me as far as I could see. The creek on the left, trees on my right. I could see the tall business buildings and parking lots behind the trees, but if I looked straight ahead, it felt like I could be in the woods. I focused on the sound of the wind rustling the dry leaves, the occasional splashing of water from the creek. My breathing felt loud against the other sounds. I tried to calm it, slow it down. As I ran further it became darker. I realized I didn’t know where I was going and this could be potentially dangerous. I had two options, turn around and go back the way I came (meaning I would now be going under a pitch black overpass, no thank you) or continue down this path and hope it pops out somewhere with lights and make my way home from there on the larger streets.
I decided to continue on. I should have explored it in the daylight first, but I didn’t want to wimp out on this new trail. Plus the thought of going back didn’t sound fun, the overpass a little creepy. So, I tried not to freak out, just enjoy the run. The moon was large, and helped light the trail, but the shadows all were in question. Funny how keen your hearing becomes when you loose the sense of sight. I suddenly could hear every rustling of wind, my feet crunching the ice and occasional snow patch seemed as loud as thunder. I focused again on my breathing, it really does help to calm my nerves.
Just about the time I was going to give up on this path and maybe even just dart through the trees to the nearest parking lot (civilization is seriously only a matter of feet in either direction) – I came around a slight bend to see another overpass – a highway, and the path split in two. I am sorry to say that I was actually relieved to find the highway. I took the turn to the right which follows it, and I now knew where I was relative to other things. The highway gave me plenty of light, and the path opened up, the highway was on my left just beyone a fence and about 20 ft of grass. On my right was a big grassy field, which was nice because I could see anything long before it got close to me.
I had just relaxed and felt more like I was safe in this comfortable urban setting when I heard a sudden crunching of snow just to my left. I saw nothing, there was some low woody shrubs, a couple of leafless trees, but nothing suspicious. Then I heard it again, this time I saw a dark shadow, low to the ground, moving quickly. Something was running beside me on the highway side of the fence. It bolted ahead, I caught a better glimpse of the shape. It looked like a medium sized dog. I kept running, not sure if a dog was trying to escape the highway, or attack me. I could see just ahead of me that the fence abruptly stops. My mind was preparing me for an animal attack. I didn’t want to look like I was frightened and running away from the dog, encouraging it to chase me, so I did what I thought was reasonable…I started to kind of softly sing to the animal. Hoping I would just get on it’s good side, it would see how nice I was and just want to be friends. My voice must have further startled the animal, as soon as I started it bolted across the path just in front of me. It wasn’t a dog at all. It was a coyote. Then another followed it. The first was quickly out of sight, and disappeared into the trees I just came from by the creek. The other ran a ways, then stopped and just watched me. I decided it was sizing me up – dinner or threat? I was encouraged that I was more intimidating for shear size, and felt relived and revived.
I practically sprinted to the next overpass, cut up onto the street and made my way home on a now familiar street. I felt alive, adrenaline pumping through my body from the excercise and the adventure. From now on though, I will either drag Jonathan along on these night runs, or just explore new territory in the daylight.
While climbing at the Red Rocks, we only ventured out of the Calico Basin area to climb twice. The first time we went to the second pull-out (on the scenic loop), where our initial destination wall of climbing was full. This sent us on an adventure that got us slightly lost. We never found our back-up area either, but stumbled instead upon a mysterious bolted wall with 3 moderate climbs. We played around on these chossy routes, realizing there was probably a good reason they didn’t make it into our guide book (though many decent climbs seem to be left out of the book we happen to own). It was a good day in the sun and exploring just the same. For whatever reason, we never went back to the loop, and instead just kept finding new fun routes off the Calico Basin road…Until one of our lasts days in Nevada.
We were having a pseudo-rest day, and decided to check out a new area. Jonathan chose the Pine Creek Canyon because of one inspiring picture he saw of a perfect finger crack. I anticipated an easy approach and decided to wear my flip flops (definitely not a great approach shoe unless you plan to belay from the parking lot). The walk out was really pretty. Pine Creek had a different feel than the other Red Rock areas I had seen. There was a grassy meadow, quite a few small green plants and yes, pine trees, this valley path led straight into an array of sandstone towers -our destination.
Up a rocky trail/scramble is the wall with the route Jonathan came to check out – the Straight Shooter Wall, 5.9+. It really is an alluring finger crack. We knew we had to climb it – it was slightly less than vertical, and short – totally qualifies for a rest day.
We got there just before another team, who was also here for this climb in particular. They would wait their turn by climbing another route, while we were on it. We chatted with them about the climbing they had done. These girls were from out of town and had been here awhile (not quite as long as us though). When one of them was pointing out a climb in her book – which, of course, wasn’t in ours (they had the black book of Red Rocks, which has more routes and better descriptions than ours) I couldn’t follow anything she was saying or pointing at. I was mesmerized by her huge and beat up hands. She had the hands the size of a grown man, fingers thick like knobby sausages, covered in calluses and chalk. I shuddered and looked down at my own boney hands – I had hoped climbing would make them stronger (and I do seem to have a bit more meat on them than before), but would climbing ruin them? I suppose enough finger and hand jams could have this effect…I made a silent vow to tape my hands and treat them well…then I looked back up to this finger crack, and seemed to forget all else.
Jonathan made quick, flawless work of the lead (enjoyed it so much, he got gangster at the bottom – the ultimate gesture of his approval). I roped up and was on my way. The climb was delicious. All of the finger jams were there (though thin in places) and felt like they fit my fingers well. I was very happy that the climb also had nice feet – a few nubs, ledges and jams. The climb was fluid and lovely, but over way too soon.
We called it a day after the crack since the sun was starting to go down and we still had to hike out. On the way down, I slid slightly on the steep rocky trail and managed to slice my toe open on a sharp rock. 
My own fault for the flip flops, I know. It was throbbing and bleeding everywhere. Jonathan very carefully wrapped the injury in a homemade tape band-aid (our first aid kit was back in the car, so the antibiotic cream would have to wait). I got a lecture about proper footwear, a slow hobble on the walk out, and a small toe injury, but I was happy it wasn’t worse. I seem to learn some lessons the hard way. With an injury on the end of my toe, there was no telling if I would be able to climb any time soon. Climbing shoes fit so snuggly against the toes, and the pressure put against them while climbing could make matters worse. I recently read a book, Breaking Trail by Arlene Blum, who is a mountaineer and scientist with an overpowering will of self. In the book she broke her leg, but focused all of her attention on the break. With nothing other than mental conviction, her broken leg healed long before the doctors thought possible and she was out of her cast in time to join her team in another mountain expedition. And so, I started a mantra in my head to heal my toe. I would climb the next day.
jonathan
kristine
