Going Feral

There's a herd of horses that roam just north of Albuquerque. They are quite beautiful. People call them the Wild Horses of Placitas. But they're not wild. They are just feral.

How long did it take these horses to go from livestock to feral (to wild)? How long would it take me? 

Yesterday I needed to grade papers, go to meetings, and prepare an exam for a class. I needed to get up, eat my breakfast, pack my lunch, take a shower, and change into presentable clothes (a shirt with a collar and pants with a crease). Instead, I put the dogs in the back of the truck and headed to a trail head I've only gone to a couple of times. Embudito Trail is well-traveled, but someone showed me a much less used trail that runs from the same trail head. I purposely left my water at home. No food, no water means a run of 90 minutes or less.

But the morning was fantastic. I was in shorts and a short sleeve shirt. I headed up. And Up and Up. I made it to where the ground was frozen. I thought that this trail would connect to the main trail so I kept going. The dogs were having a blast. I was having a blast. Someone has found rocks that are heart-shaped and placed them along the trail. One is placed in a tree, where a heart would be. Others are on boulders or just by the trail. I was following my heart!! 

I met a man who was hiking down. He looked at me like I had appeared out of thin air. He had on hat, gloves, a jacket, hiking boots and long pants. He was using hiking poles. He asked where I was headed. I told him that I thought the trail would connect up to Embudito. He politely told me that it wouldn't. Instead, if I continued on my way, I would end up at the crest, where "the trail is really icy....you don't want to go there without poles." That was almost enough to convince me to proceed. Almost.

Knowing that if I continued, I would end up running for a good four hours, I turned around. We blasted down the hills, Scout tripping Sadie more than once. I do love to watch them chase and dodge. My one hour run turned into almost 3. I was thirsty and hungry but, oh how I wanted to continue to the crest and head north. Maybe if I had, I would have met up with the wild horses of Placitas.

An email was waiting for me. An emergency meeting of the administrative team had been called to discuss the lack of funding and the increased teaching load.

I don't even need to say that I would rather be feral...... 

Change of Seasons

I absolutely love fall but I dread what is coming. Cold mornings, dark evenings, long weeks and short weekends.

Racing season (for me) is officially over. I had a good ride. Amazing recovery from foot surgery. I know it is time to sit back, recover, refuel, WORK, and kick back a little. It is hard to let go of the racing; hard to not have a goal.

Last time I wrote I was seriously considering running Leadville again. Now, not so sure. From what I've heard and what I've read, the race is too crowded and disorganized. One of the things that was so neat about  it was the homey feel. But it appears that is gone. Too many horror stories. Maybe I will look for a different 100 miler. Maybe I will stick with 50's. I have at least until January to ponder possibilities.

Meanwhile, I have two dogs who need to get out and explore the trails. Hopefully there will be snow. Hopefully there will be crisp days and blue skies.

Summer is almost over...waaaaa!

It has been quite a year. My first year in the desert, in Albuquerque, teaching for New Mexico State, and being sponsored by... oh wait, of course I don't have a sponsor!

And that is just fine.

I have had the bejeezus scared out of me recently. Sadie, Scout and I ran up Embudo for about 3 miles. That meant we got to turn around and run DOWN Embudo. I love running down hill. I was cruising as fast as my old legs could take me. I cam around a switchback and realized that my foot was on course to land on a snake. How can a person change direction in mid air? I don't know but I missed the snake by a couple of inches.
Now that snake was about 3 feet long with a pattern on its back. I quickly glanced on that head...a beautiful head!! A beautiful snake. In other words, non-poisonous.

Once I recovered enough to breath, I started off down the hill again, but a bit more slowly this time. And that was good because about 10 steps further on I saw another snake. This time, there was no need to examine it. I KNEW it was a rattlesnake. Again, about 3 feet long but much fatter than the gopher snake I had just avoided. This scared the crap out of me (ok, not literally).  This snake was stretched out across the trail and both dogs were on the other side. I guess they just ran right over it. When I stopped, they decided they'd better come back and check on me. NOOOOOOO, I yelled. Sadie came trotting up the trail towards me. She was just about to step on it but it moved its head to look at her. She jumped to the side, right into a prickly pear cactus. Then Scout figured she'd better join us. She walked right over it. It looked at her but didn't strike. It then slithered off the trail.



Ya know, that was way too close.  That was way scary. I really really didn't like that.

Pikes Peak or Bust

It has been quite a summer! Whooohooo (or "woot" as the cool people now say)!! I have so enjoyed my running. So many trails, so many wildflowers, friends, dogs, mountain highs and river lows. I don't feel old today!

I reminded Linus that he had called me a dusty ole gramma. He look chagrined. He said I am not a dusty ole gramma. I am a nice gramma. I feel redeemed. Actually, Linus can be a tough cookie. We had some real butting of heads last year. But now, he is ready to start kindergarten and he is a much easier little guy.

I spent two days with the grands last week. Avery, Elise and I ran a couple miles together. Elise did great. Avery did fantastic. Wish I could run with them often.

Now I am thinking about Leadville 100 for 2014. I set a goal of running it every even year until at least 2014, when I will be 60. Few women over 60 have successfully completed it. Who knows how many will make it this year (we will find out tomorrow at 10:00 AM). I missed 2012 due to surgery. I have not really felt committed to the task, but now I am thinking about it. I will need to sign up in January  if I want to do it. It is not cheap.The entry fee is substantial, enough so that you don't sign up "just in case I decide to do it." I have asked a couple of people to help crew and pace. They are excited about it. So, maybe I will!

Mixing running and human rights

I completed the San Juan Solstice. I actually (is "actually" actually necessary) finished 20 minutes faster than I did 6 years ago. The conditions were perfect this year: stream crossings were very low, no snow fields, no lightning, no storms, not too hot, not too cold. The only real threat was smoke from a massive forest fire not far from the Continental Divide. 

What occupied my attention for 14 hours and 46 minutes (besides how good dinner was going to taste)? Prior to the start, I was talking with a couple of people: One man from Brooklyn and one woman from Virginia. And then there was me. We were chatting about races we have done "back east." She (M from VA) mentioned the race series put on my David Horton. I grimaced and said I wouldn't run his races because of his promotion of certain religious statements (his beliefs that are not just personal, but also political). She said, "Yeah,  but he has done a lot for trail running." T (from Brooklyn) said that we shouldn't mix running and religion or politics. He said that Horton is just promoting the values of his workplace. T said, "You know, he doesn't have a choice." I shot back, "Neither do I." Both T and M looked uncomfortable but stuck by their earlier statements: don't mix politics/religion and running.

So, that occupied my mind for a large portion of the race. As Mary Ann pointed out, this issue doesn't personally affect T or M, so they can easily dismiss Horton's intolerance. But when do people take a stand? When is running a particular race less important than supporting human rights? 

It would be easy to compare this exchange to the famous argument about those who failed to stand up to the Nazis (Martin Niemoller: "First they came for the socialists..."). There is one very important difference between the evangelicals and the Nazis: the Nazis wanted to kill all of those who were impure (Jews, gays, lesbians); the evangelicals only want to get rid of these people by converting them, ie by changing who they are. 

Yes, I admit this is an over-the-top comparison. But then again, after living in the same city with Fred Phelps and his parishioners and their blatant hatred of gays and lesbians, I sometimes get a bit defensive. For me, I will continue to run races that are not associated with intolerance.

Will I Finish or am I finished?

We runners are a very self absorbed lot, with our plans, our training, our races, our mileage, our equipment, our food, our FEET. I have often rationalized that being obsessed with the details of something which really does not matter (my completing the race affects only me and only for a short time) helps me deal with the "real" problems in life.


I have been spending my time the past few weeks suffering from self doubt regarding my ability to complete the San Juan Solstice 50 miler. OK, finishing or not finishing...not a big deal really. Not nearly as important as poverty, child abuse, gay rights, gun control, etc, etc.

I did a quick assessment of my recent running: since 2009, I have "failed to complete" five 50 milers. In one, I switched to the 25 mile option, in another I became hopelessly lost and had to hitch a ride back to town and in a third I failed to make a cut off. The others? I was too hot or too cold. This is becoming a habit.

I never used to DNF. If I started a race, I finished the race unless I was injured. I finished one 50 miler without being able to keep food down beginning at mile 13! I finished a 40 miler with a sprained ankle, and a 25 miler 5 weeks after a hysterectomy.

Now I am obsessing over not finishing. I have begun telling myself that if I quit another race, it means I am done. If I do not finish, I am finished. I am too old, too dusty, too weak-willed. A couple of friends on facebook just DNF'ed 100 milers. They have a slew of comments on their attempts. I'll give you a sample:

• It takes a lot of courage to gut it out for as long as you did in those conditions and then make the SMART move to know when to fold em' as the Gambler once said.
• you are awesome!! No one else does that. That's just amazing to me!! 
• you always amaze and inspire me! Rock on!
• That was an incredible effort with superb training benefits. I know you will put the experience to good use
• You're not just a great runner, you're smart too. 
• Hey that is Awesome...75 miles...omg! So proud of you!
• You had the courage to say yes to running 100 miles and you started... that's the victory. You rock
• u should be proud of what you did accomplish, and to run 50 miles through that terrain is mind boggling. You are always an inspiration and I send you three cheers - hip hip hooray, hip hip hooray, hip hip hooray!! 
• What an accomplishment!! Enjoy the rest of your vacation!

Now don't get me wrong. I understand the need to support a friend who has just had to abandon a goal. but is it ok to drop out of a race?

As Yoda said: Do or do not, there is no try. If I "do not" finish this race, do I switch to "do not"? Am I finished?

Going to Los Alamos and the Jemez trail runs

We had quite an outing in the RV. This little Lance is just 14 feet long and weighs 2100 pouncs empty. The biggest thing we can pull with the Taco.

Our first trip was destined for greatness. After struggling mightily, we managed to get the trailer hooked up to the Tacoma and drove it over to our house, where there is no parking, and set it all up,blocking our neighbors' driveways for only a little while. After a great deal of organizing and figuring, we got it all set to go and headed to Los Alamos. Both dogs were in the back seat of the truck. At least initially.

It's a two hour drive to Los Alamos. Oops, make that three hours when towing the trailer. And going into a dead end lot. Which meant I had to back out...oh hell, call it four hours. Meanwhile, in the back seat, Sadie is getting irritated with Scout because Scout keeps stepping on her.

Finally we made it to Los Alamos and headed to Camp May. Our plan was to boon dock somewhere along the road, but after driving up the road, we realized that the "dispersed camping" we'd read about was really just some washed out roads.

So we headed UP the Camp May road. Straight up!  Holy shit, it's a narrow, winding road going straight up. We made it, in first gear, and found a site. Definitely have to back in and the drive was angled the wrong way. OK, no problem. Problem. Problem, problem, problem. I'm driving and Mary Ann is giving me directions....turn your wheel the other way. No, the OTHER way! Come on back, STOP! Pull forward. The other way! Two hours later (OK, I'm exaggerating. It was only 90 minutes), we're almost (so close) to being in the spot. But the damn truck has over heated. It's smoking and smells really bad. 

Now, perhaps I should say that this is a beautiful area, above 10,000 feet. Big aspens, ponderosa pines, and hummingbirds. Not many people. No water, no electricity, no TV. Beautiful. But it is NOT an RV park.

There was a much nicer site just across from the one I was trying to get into, but there was a truck in it. As we're sitting there waiting for our truck to cool down, a man comes hiking back to the truck in the "nice spot."  He says, "this site is nicer and I'm leaving." I say, "Great! Can you back this trailer into that spot for me?" He says sure. He pulls forward, he backs up and it is in the spot. He gets out and I say, "Will you marry me?" He says he just got married two weeks ago. There's one lucky woman out there!!

So, we set up, had dinner, and it was time for bed. The table converts to a bed. You just flip the table, pull down the cushions and arrange them so that....wait a minute...how did they do that? They don't fit this way or that way or this way or that way...are you kidding me? I check the manual. It says, "Arrange the cushions to make a bed." I stepped on a dog. She yelped and I stepped on the other dog. I put the dogs in the truck. 

Thirty minutes later, we have a bed, with two cushions that don't seem to fit anywhere. I put the dogs back in the trailer, and we go to sleep. Within 30 minutes, Sadie is snuggled up next to me. Within an hour, so is Scout. I am wedged between two Rhodies and cannot possibly move. It is a long night. I definitely did not get cold.

It's morning. The sun is warm, the air is cool, the birds are singing. We let the dogs out (no one is there) and they play chase. We have our coffee and our oatmeal. Damn, this is great. Wait a minute, where did that man come from? What? You say this park is closed and we have to leave?  We finish our breakfast and do the dishes. We hook up the trailer and head back to the road. 

But we can't get out. They have closed the campground road by putting big boulders in the middle. Are you kidding me???? I take off walking and find the man who put the boulders there. He takes his big machine and moves them for us. Have a good weekend, he says, in all sincerity.
We head down the road to find the other campground. 

I pull into a promising road. Nope, no place to park a trailer. And then I realize that I will have to turn around by backing up. An hour later, we're on our way again. We find a real campground and a pull-through spot. Hallelujah!!!! We're down around 7000 feet now and it is hot. We sit in the shade with the dogs, who must be on leash at all times. I loop a long tie-out chain around a tree and attach one end to each dog. They get tangled, I free them, they get tangled, I free them, they get tangled....

We eat and get ready for bed. This time, we put the dogs in the truck for the night. At 3:15 am, my alarm goes off. Time to get some coffee, some oatmeal and get ready for the race. It's a 5 am start for a 50 mile race. I slather sunscreen (do you ever use the word "slather" for anything other than sunscreen?) all over me. I then slather vaseline (hmmm, I guess you can slather other things) all over me, especially my feet. I grab my very special toe socks. I love my toe socks. They keep my toes from rubbing each other and getting blisters. They are good! But alas, there's a hole in my toe sock!!!! Oh crap. I do have another pair of socks but they are not toe socks and they are not good socks. 

The race starts and we run past a corral of horses. It is dark and we're all wearing headlamps. The horses kick and buck and neigh. They must think the demons are out. The sun comes up and  it immediately begins to heat up, but we go up to 10,000 feet and it's nice and cool. I see columbines, shooting stars (flowers), wild iris, blue birds and hummingbirds.

The toes on my right foot start to hurt. The toes on my left foot start to hurt. The bottom of my right foot starts to hurt. I've only gone 15 miles. That means 35 more to go. I take off my shoes and rearrange my not-good socks. At about 20 miles, there's an aid station. I take off my shoes and socks and slather vaseline on my feet. That's better. At about 25 miles, my feet hurt with every step. At 37 miles, I quit the race.



We return to camp. I am filthy!! Amazingly filthy. I will take a shower in our little trailer!! I open it up and hear beep.....beep....beep....beep. It's the smoke detector. The battery is dead. We do not have another battery. I can't stand the beep. We take the battery out. Beep....beep....beep.
OK, let's just go home, We hook up the truck to the trailer. This should be fairly easy but for some reason, things just keep going wrong. An hour later, we're on the road. We arrive home at 11:30 pm. The smoke detector has quit beeping. 

My socks are too dirty to put in the washer with other clothes. I put them and my gaiters in a tub. I rinse them, throw out the dirty water and refill the tub. They are still too dirty. Maybe I should just toss them?

Another good race experience. 25 miles at Collegiate Peaks. Maybe those calf compression thingies do work!

While standing around inside, waiting for the race start, I noticed an older man (60's? 70's?). Now, if Mary Ann had been with me, she would have raised a ruckus because he had on....um, how do I say this...uh, "old school" running shorts. Remember about 10 years ago the fashion was the short shorts? He kept his. He kept his in spite of the fact that the elastic in the liner had obviously given way to gravity. And that was not the only elasticity that was stretched beyond capacity. In other words, I wish I hadn't looked. I couldn't get that picture out of my head. I kept thinking, "If only I had seen him OUTSIDE, where the temperature was in the 20's." Then maybe the old cremaster muscle could have done its trick.

The pup is here, the pup is here!! 
Scout is, of course, the smartest, cutest, sweetest, fastest puppy in the world. Of course. I have started "running" with her. This means I go out for about .5 to 1 mile, alternating between running and walking. I do the zig-zag pattern on the trails, training her to watch me. It is a blast!!

Other news? Feeling so much better about running. Did a 28 miler with no "events." I think I have figured it out. I was suffering from a terrible case of hypochondriasis. I was sure I had a heart arrhythmia. As I have explained, when I am running hard, my heart starts to thump out of my chest and my vision becomes weird and I become dizzy and the only thing to do to fix it is lie down on my back. I thought that I felt this and then stopped running. I have now figured out that I stop running AND THEN this starts to happen. What a silly ass I am....when I stop running hard, the blood pools in my legs and my blood pressure drops. Solution? Don't stop running? I bought some compression socks. So far, so good.

Running is great right now. Work is a drag. Not bad, just a drag. Race this weekend in Buena Vista. A mere 25 miles. Let's see if I can go two for two with the socks.

Aging and Racing

Feeling Young:
The Salida Marathon was Saturday. They have changed the course since the last time I ran it. I like this one!! There wasn't much snow on the ground, but at the higher elevations, there was lots of snow in the air! Beautiful! I finished 2nd in my age group. I was the oldest woman finisher and was beat by someone who was ONLY 51. I figure that if the Republicans have their way and convince the world that life begins at conception, I can move up to the next age group in April.

Feeling Old:
I had to have a root canal a couple of weeks ago.  Not fun, not cheap, but not a huge deal. Sunday, while eating my granola, the tooth broke off. I don't know yet whether it will need to be pulled or if it can be fixed. Makes me feel old. I know our parents tried their best to give us everything they didn't have as kids. My early dental care was minimal though. But then again, my mother had dentures when she was a young adult. I shouldn't complain. Just makes me sad.

Feeling Young/Old:
I received very limited information from the Holter monitor test. The results were "essentially" normal. Now if only the problem were "essentially" gone, I would be happy. At mile 11 of the Salida race, in the midst of heavy snow storm, I experienced an "event." My chest was tight, my vision was impaired (like when you stand up too fast), my legs were weak and I certainly couldn't run. I staggered around for about 15 minutes, watching numerous runners pass me by. I was finally able to run again. However, I was not willing to push myself during the race, for fear that it would happen again. Next steps?

The pup is here. More on that later.......

Cycle of Life

It has been a couple of weeks and a few things have been resolved. Idgie has "crossed the rainbow bridge." Wow, it happened fast. I can say that we were with her and she was relaxed when the purple potion was administered. She went for a run the day before. She stole a pear from the counter the day before. We can say she had a good life and she did not suffer. It doesn't help much, knowing those things.

I had the 24 hour heart monitoring completed. I ran. Hard. Trying to make myself have "an event." I did not. And in true medical care fashion, I haven't heard the results. They were supposedly sent to the referring physician within 72 hours. That would mean she's had them now for about 2 weeks; long enough for my insurance to deny the claim. So, on with the training and racing!!

March 8th, Salida's Run Through Time Marathon. I've done this one before. All depends on how much snow there is on the trail! Could be great! Just don't want ice. After that race, we head to Colorado Springs and pick up Scout. She's our new pup. She's 5 weeks old. Hope she will be a great running dog.

What price running?

I have been experiencing a problem while running. Sometimes my heart starts to pound "out of control" It is really, really fast. I become dizzy, like when I stand up too fast. My heart POUNDS in my chest, out of control! The weird thing is, I can keep moving. I can't run but I can walk.

The first couple of times it happened, it scared the crap out of me. In fact, the first time I was really freaked out. I finally lay down on the trail, threw water on my face, and then, all of a sudden, I felt fine. Got up and took off running. The second time wasn't as dramatic.

It started happening more often. I didn't know when it would hit or how long it would last. Mile 2? Mile 30? Uphill? At altitude? In the heat? The only thing that has been consistent is that it only happens when racing or running "at race pace." The most reliable way of "fixing it" has been to lie flat on my back. I am no longer frightened. I am frustrated though. I have started taking it easy during races.  I figure that I lose more time when I lie down on the trail than when I slow down a little.

So I told this to my physician. She said it was because I was dehydrated. Wrong. I told it to my next physician and, only after I said I had chest pain, she referred me to a cardiologist. I had a stress test and an echocardiogram. He found a few little abnormalities but certainly nothing to worry about. Told me to take a baby aspirin every day. Okay, fine.


But then I started reading about heart arrhythmias in older, long distance runners. I learned that it is not that rare and that there are treatments. Medications might work. If not, an ablation can be performed, either via a catheter or surgically. So when I moved to ABQ and got a new doctor, I told her about my little problem. She told me I am getting older and I may just have to face the fact that I can't push myself that hard anymore. I told her that is the wrong thing to say to a runner. She didn't want to accept my advice anymore than I wanted to accept hers.

She ordered a Holter Monitor test and I have scheduled it. I can go out there and try to initiate one of these episodes. It might happen; it might not. If not, then there are further tests. But, perhaps it is time for me to do some soul searching. I have had two orthopedic surgeries, one on each heel. I've spent thousands on these surgeries...well, my insurance has anyways. And lots more on physical therapy, medications and other orthopedic treatments so that I can continue to race.

Maybe this is ridiculous. Maybe I need to "back off the pace." From reading about the athlete's arrhythmia, it appears that there is some evidence that this level of running can actually injure the heart. Is this true? There are so many studies showing that consistent running is good for the cardiovascular system. In the world of biomedical research, there is rarely a definitive study. Until studies are replicated, using more people--especially older people who have engaged in long distance running for a number of years, we just won't know.

So the question is: should I have the Holter study done, at substantial expense to my insurance or should I just continue as I have been? Do I settle into not only a slower pace (that I can live with), but a reduced effort? This is not my style.

The holidays are over. The bills are paid. I just returned from spending time with the grandkids. They are amazingly good. They are amazingly noisy!!! They are amazing.

It's time to settle into the spring semester routine. Spring break is months away and the ink on my syllabus is still wet (or it would be if it were printed on paper). My racing calendar is starting to fill up.


A couple of weeks ago I went for a run on the east side of the Sandias, at a higher elevation. It was a five mile loop and I decided to take both Idgie and Sadie. The first part of the trail was packed snow. Then we hit fresh powder. It was a delight. I was having a blast kicking through the snow. Sadie was doing her disappearing act. She'd leave the trail and suddenly show up in front of me. Never could figure out how she did it. We came to the trail intersection and I couldn't discern the trail since no one had yet tracked it up. It took me a few false starts, but I was able to locate it. I wasted a bit of time and realized that I  would be hard-pressed to make it back to the truck before dark.

The best part of this run was being with Idgie. She loves the snow. She romped, she chased Sadie, she stayed with me, she was smiling! We had done this trail in the summer and she wasn't able to run it. The heat wiped her out. But this day, she was on top of her game!! I was thrilled to see her running easy.

I was reminded of her days as a "huffer." In Wyoming, she loved to run behind the snowmobile that groomed the cross country  ski trails. She was stay right behind it, breathing in the fumes. Then she would throw herself on the ground, rolling and tumbling and acting just like a cat on catnip. I know she was getting high. Whenever she heard the snowmobile, she would start looking for her fix!

I am glad we had that day. Yesterday I took her to the vet. She has been having trouble breathing and her neck was very swollen. The vet gave a diagnosis of lymphoma. Without treatment, she will likely die within a couple of months. With treatment, she will likely go into remission. Remission will only be temporary. Her life expectancy, even with treatment, is only about a year. She is 12 years old, no spring chicken for an 80 pound dog. She has had a pretty good life. I can deal with her death. The hardest part is making the decision. Do we choose chemotherapy for a 12 year old dog? Or do we choose treatment to increase her comfort? Either way, there will come a time when I will have to make the final decision.