Mount Marathon Bowl and avalanche

Yesteray was my running rest day so I took the dog for a walk on the trail that winds through the Mount Marathon Bowl. I had never taken it before, since I'm usually too busy climbing up the mountain to think about going around it.

The footing was icy but not too bad, and as we walked in deeper and the mountains closed around us, it felt almost magical.

It was almost dusk, that wonderful and heavy twilight hour before dark, and the ice gave my footfall a nice little snap that echoed with each step until it fell into a rhythm in my head: Step, snap, step, snap

The Beebs and Mt. Marathon valley

The sun went down and the sky turn pink and lavender, and I knew I should turn around, since I didn't have my headlamp with me, but I kept walking. It felt so peaceful back there, so empty and barren and quiet, nothing else around.

And then, uh-oh, my mood was ruined a bit when we came upon this blocking the trail:

That might look like a harmless pile of snow bunched up by, say, a snowplow. Except we were in a mountain valley, miles from a road, and those boulder-sized hunks of snow were actually caused by an avalanche.



I could see the trail of the avalanche running down the mountain, flowing as straight and smooth as water. It was beautiful, in a primitive sort of way, and it also made me think of chances and risks and what might have happened had I been walking down the trail when the avalanche hit.

On the walk back the sky began to darken and I became lost in my head in that wonderful way that usually happens only when I run.

After I ate dinner and took a bath, I sat at my desk and wrote like crazy, wrote like I hadn't written in a long time, wrote a scene so amazing and true that I wept, and even then, in the back of my mind, I was thinking: How soon before I can be back in the mountains?

Why I run

Years ago, I ran track and cross country. When I hurt my knee my second year of college competition, I decided to become a writer. I wore long flowing skirts, stopped brushing my hair and wrote embarrassingly bad poems.

I hitchhiked out West. I said things like, "The epiphany equals the mass." I lived in really bad apartments, I slummed around.

Finally, I settled down in Alaska. My poems improved, and I slowly began to be published. I had, unexpectedly but with great joy, a son.

I worked my way up from really bad waitressing jobs to a really good journalism job.

And I stopped running.  Oh, I kept in shape swimming, biking and hiking. But I lost connection with the running part of myself.

I was so busy trying to make a living that I forgot what it felt like to experience fierce and wild abandon.

Then one of my older sisters died of complications from an eating disorder.

Suddenly, nothing made sense. I kept going, of course. I moved up in my job, I published poems and essays, my son grew older and more beautiful.

But there was a hole inside me. I had no idea how to heal it.

Three years ago I was assigned to cover the Mount Marathon Race for the newspaper. I hadn't wanted to; I thought running up a mountain was, well, kind of pointless.

Yet as I photographed women running down that mountain, many of them bloody and bruised, I suddenly remembered back to my childhood on the farm and running with my sister through the fields, both of us barefoot and heedless of danger. We ran because we loved to run, because of how it felt to move our arms and legs in unison.

We ran because it made us feel free.

I'm still not sure if I really heard or only imagined my sister's voice whispering "Dirty, wild girls," in my ear, those words we used to scream as we ran hand in hand through the creek and jumped over cow pies. But I knew I had to run the race the following year, as a tribute not only to my sister but also to myself.

Running soothed my soul, slowed down my sorrow, nourished my spirit. It gave me the confidence and fierceness to examine my life, to reach out and make the changes I needed to mend the hole in my heart.

And sometimes now, when I'm standing at the top of a mountain, wet with sweat and surrounded by all of that beauty, I swear I can hear the wind speak.

I swear I hear pieces of my sister's voice.

Lovin' Lost Lake

And so the sunshine continues. I swear, the difference between looking out the window and seeing sunshine and seeing rain/clouds is enormous in terms of mood, outlook and even energy levels. I have been disgustingly perky lately.

Yesterday, after a morning and early afternoon of work (and things are heating up in our Anchorage office--ouch!, glad I'm safely in Seward, hee, hee), I ate two pieces of raisin bread and got ready for my run.

I swear, is anyone else addicted to this stuff?

I drove a few miles out to the Lost Lake Trail, tucked nicely away on dirt roads. Because the roads were slipperey I assumed the trails would be too and wore my spikes.

These babies get the job one but they're HEAVY. They must add a good 1/2 pound to each foot.
Aren't they terribly sexy, hee, hee:

Within the past couple of weeks, Lost Lake Trail has opened to snowmachiners. This is both good and bad. Good in that it grooms a nice, firm trail through the snow for runners. Bad in that the noise is deafening, and if you're running with a dog you've basically got to grab its collar and drag that shaking beast off the trail before the snowmachiners swoop down to claim both of your lives. (Actually, because the trail is so hilly and curve, the SMers are moving slow enough that except for the noise and intrusion, they are little bother.)

The Beebs is terrified of the snowmachines but thankfully we ran late afternoon, when most of them were heading off the trail, so that after the first 1/4 mile, we only encountered one on that long, long trudge up the mountain.

Each time I run this trail I wonder what the hell I'm doing: The constant uphill running, the icy footing, and the way my breath gasps in my pathetic chest as I wheeze and pant and struggle my way higher and higher and higher.

But then the trees open up and I look across at the mountains or down at the town I've recently left and I'll feel that sense of being somewhere both bigger and more magnificent than I'll ever be.

I love that feeling.

This one is for my mom, thanks to the good-lookin' snowmachiners who snapped the shot (as I stood wet with sweat and trying to keep my teeth from chattering--too funny!):

Then it was time to run down, down, down the mountain: Wheeeee! The footing was perfect, packed but with enough loose snow on top to add more leverage on steep areas. I couldn't stop smiling, I was so happy, and weaving down through forests of spruce trees, I thought: This is what it means to be free. This is how it feels to be completely and totally ALIVE.

It was SO awesome.

Hope everyone else found small slices of awesomeness in their lives.

Running: 5.5 miles

Reading: "Interpreter of Maladies," by Jhumpa Lahiri

Sunshine

Sunshine over Mt. Marathon. Need I say more?

Gray day

The clouds lifted and it finally, finally, finally stopped raining today--hooray! But it's still grayish outside, and misty.

Kind of have the blahs today. It's that time of year. The holidays are over and the light is coming back, but it's creeping so slowly! (Come back, light, please???)

By mid-February the light will be back to a decent level. But the glory is that it will keep lengthening and expanding until summer, when I'll be out hiking and running past midnight. Nothing is more beautiful than the standing on the top of a mountain in the Alaska twilight.

Until then, there is chocolate. And popcorn. And what the heck, maybe even chocolate melted over popcorn.

Hope everyone is having a brighter day.

Running: 12 miles

Reading: "A Mother's Love," Mary Morris

DVD: Watched "The Ultra Marathon Man." It was okay, though not half as inspiring as "Spirit of the Marathon." But Dean's legs made it worthwhile. Watching his tanned calf muscles flex made me so hungry that I had to gnaw on pretzels to calm myself down.

Rain, rain, go away

Another day of rain. And rain. And even more rain. The dog and I sat inside, waiting for it to let up so that we could run the trails.

It got dark instead.

So I decided to eat dinner. Then, of course, it stopped raining. By the time my meal had digested, it was 9 p.m., so I put on my headlamp and took the dog out for a long hike on the beach and then up over the trails. It was very dark, since most of the snow has melted, and super slick in places, even with my Yaktraxs.

The tide was coming in and the beach was pitch black, and in the background the mountains rose up, covered in snow so that they looked white and fierce and magnificent.

The quiet beauty of it all took my breath away. I wanted to walk forever, keep on going through the slick trails and to the top of the mountain, but I had a work deadline so I had to return home, sigh, sigh.

Yet, glory of glory, guess what was in my mailbox when I stopped to check at the post office? We don't have home mail delivery here, since the town is too small, so going to the post office is a delicious treat, so much more enjoyable than simply walking out to a box. It's kind of like a small ceremony, and I try to enjoy it even when I just get bills.

But today, oh today, this was waiting for me:

Yes! The documentary on Dean Karnazes, who ran 50 marathons in 50 different states in 50 days.

So the BIG question right now is do I:
A. Finish my work deadline
B. Work on my final novel corrections
C. Watch the DVD

Guess which one I"ll probably end up doing, hee, hee.

I'm also reading the most marvelous book. Anyone who likes to read MUST read this. It's "Girl With Glasses: My Optic History," by Marissa Walsh, and it's a memoir in little snippets about growing up wearing glasses. It's hilarious and heartwarming and true and I swear, I just want to hug dear Marissa. Here is the pic on the jacket cover, don't you just love her to pieces in her horrible glasse?

I love the book because I am also GWG, a girl who wear glasses, though in most of the pics I post on this blog I'm wearing contacts, since that's what I wear when I run and hike. But I love my glasses, I do! I feel that they are a small shield between myself and the outside world. I have about five pairs and am ready to order another few pairs.

I get my glasses online at a variety of sites recommended by Ian over at Glassy Eyes. It's a really cool blog that promotes reasonably priced eye glasses. Believe it or not, you can get a quality pair, complete, for under $30. My last pair was $4.99, complete, and I totally love them. They make me look like a stern librarian with an impish side. Too much fun!


Anyone out there have a chance to run with Dean when he did his marathon tour? He finished his last in 3 hours, after running 49 days of marathons. And then, instead of heading home, he ran from New York to St. Louis, just 'cause he could.

Wow, that's dedication.

Speaking of dedication, Age Groups Rock is having a sock giveaway. And not just any socks but super colorful Cabot socks. Check 'em out, and imagine how cool you'd look wearing these with your running tights. Or better yet, how cool I'd look.

Happy running and reading, everyone

Help! Send chocolate

A bad day of proofing my novel. One of those days when I'm sure that it's shit, when every word feels awkward, when reading over what I've written makes me feel unsure and self-conscious, the way I used to feel walking the hallways in high school.

One of those days when that voice shouts in my head: Who do you think you are?

Who do I think I am?

I'm not sure, so I did what countless other writers have done when faced with the same struggle. I got out the chocolate.

I'm halfway finished with this baby and my head is flying from the sugar buzz. A few more squares and I'll discover the meaning of the life, and then I won't have to write. I can sit back and play with my toes.

To make matters worse, I have to mail in my novel to my agent Monday and my printer cartridge ran out. I'm the kind of writer that needs to read hard copy to spot errors, so I'm in a bit of a bind. No stores for 125 miles, and it's rainy and slick outside, not good conditions for driving through two mountain passes.

I'm wondering what in the hell I'm doing in Seward, Alaska. I'm wondering if I made a mistake moving here.

I'm wondering where I can get more of this very finnnneee chocolate.

The weather is as gray as my mood:

One good spot of the day. I finished reading this, and I sat in the bathroom and cried. Oh, is there anything better than reading a book so beautiful and true that you weep at the end?

I shall have to email Peter C. Brown a message and tell him how much I love, love, loved his book.

Another good note: I discovered the most wonderful and grueling treadmill hill work out, since it's too mushy to run here. This pic looks harmless but it's actually ankle-deep slush, with ice hiding beneath:

My grueling treadmill hill work out:
Warm-up
1/4 mile 7% incline
1/4 mile recovery 0 incline
1/2 mile 10% incline
1/4 mile recovery
1/4 mile 8% incline
1/4 mile recovery
1/2 mile 11% incline
1/4 mile recovery
1/4 mile 7% incline
1/4 mile recovery
1/2 mile 10% incline
warm-down

It is delicously angonizing. I actually moaned at one point, it's that intense.

Back to the proofing, sigh, sigh.

Reading: Not sure, will have to check my bookshelves

Running: Yesterday, 5 mile tempo. Today, grueling hillwork