Finding the motivation to run / work out can be tough for me, as it is for almost everyone. I need something tangible to work towards; a hike, a race, etc. I signed up for the City Sports 5k run to benefit the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings, but overwhelming number of people that signed up forced the event to be cancelled for safety reasons. The Spartan Race was a 5k distance, but didn't require running the entire time. I needed something else.
A few weeks ago I got an email from City Sports for an ongoing series of free 5k's and decided, hey, why not? I had made plans to sign up for like five different races with Jaime and never followed through for a variety of reasons, so I asked her to run this one with me.
Reebok One Series Shoe
I felt underprepared. It was only 3 miles, sure, but I hadn't been running on a steady schedule. When I was running I would do about 2 - 2.5 miles before calling it quits. It was only 5 days after my Spartan and my muscles were just back to normal again. My goal was to just run the whole thing, no matter how slow my time was.
This 5k fun run (not race) was a wear-test for the new Reebok One Series shoe. We arrived at the City Sports store on Boylston St., where we had the option to swap out our shoes and wear the Reebok's for the run. Luckily they had my size, so I decided to wear the new shoe. Several people approached me while we hung around the store with the crowd of runners waiting for the run to begin. I was wearing my Spartan headband, partially because I'm a tad bit superstitious and I had a good run at the Spartan and partially because I lost my only other decent headband. It was the best conversation starter short of a cute dog. A handful of people had run the Spartan the same day as I had, and a few were running the Fenway one as well. One of the employees found me for a second time in the crowd. He was muscular, fit, obviously very athletic and strong... and he was nervous about running his first Spartan in November at Fenway. He wanted training tips from me. I tried not to laugh in his face (in a good way), and told him if I could do it then he could ABSOLUTELY do it. It was mildly flattering, though.
The Esplanade
The course was essentially a big rectangle around Back Bay, and I made sure to commit it to memory before we started because I assumed I would not keep up with the faster people (I was correct). One of the designers of the shoe was there and gave us a quick blurb about it, then promised us the best run of our lives. HA, OKAY. The gang of 30ish+ runners (I'm not a great estimator) stayed together for the first mile or so since we kept getting stopped at lights, but once we hit the Esplanade the groups split up. I knew from running at home that if I ran too fast in my first mile that I would burn out, so I was a little concerned when the MapMyRun voice said my split pace was 10:30 at the first mile (a decently quick mile for me). I picked a group ahead of me, decided to keep up with them, and tried to enjoy the run. The Esplanade is quite pretty, after all. By the time we reached the Mass. Ave Bridge I realized I wasn't in the fast group, but I wasn't last. Good enough for me.
Success
I surprised myself by doing a faster second mile, and then an even faster third mile. I attribute that to not getting stopped at any crosswalks, as we had several times in the beginning. If I had to stop at a crosswalk I don't think I would have run the whole thing.
I was curious to see how I would do in a group setting. I seemed to have some source of untapped energy during the Spartan race (adrenaline, I'm sure), and the same happened in this run. I wasn't in a large group, but I didn't want to be the one that stopped to walk. Maybe it's the competitive spirit in me, or maybe I'm vain, but it worked!
It was only a 5k, sure, but it was an accomplishment for me. I achieved my goal of not stopping to walk and I set a personal best. The shoes were great, and I did have my best time for that distance so far. I hesitate to attribute that solely to the shoes, but they certainly didn't hurt!
We grabbed our stuff, I exchanged my shoes, and we were about to head out when I remembered that I had submitted a raffle ticket when we first got there. I was meeting a friend for drinks and food, which I was eager to consume both of, and I've never won a raffle. Just as we were about to leave they announced they would be doing the raffle outside, so I called my friend and told him I would be leaving in a few minutes, ending with "I don't know, I feel lucky today". The first prize was two entry bibs to the Tufts 10k. I looked over at Jaime and said, "If I win this I will be livid. I'll pass." The first name was called, and called again, but no one responded.... so another name was picked. Mine. The first raffle prize I ever win in my 23 years on this planet and it's two entries to a 10k.
Damnit.
Now I have to run a 10k.
Well, guess I have something else to train for. I'm smiling, I swear.
This past weekend I had plans with Jaime to hike either Pack Monadnock or Mt. Monadnock. She mentioned wanting to "climb a mountain" a few times, and I was excited that she wanted to do something a little out of her comfort zone. The retail world has eaten up my weekends and her office job sucks up her weekdays (as well as her soul), so finding a good time to go had been difficult. I took the weekend off for my Spartan Race and foolishly figured I would be fit to hike the day after the race. Jaime was rightfully skeptical and asked "Are you sure you can hike after that? I feel like you'll be dead". Nahhhhhhh, I'll be fine, I responded with a wave of my hand.
She was right, and not that surprised when I texted her the night before asking if we could take a rain check.
The race left me bit more battered than I thought, but my muscles felt okay in the morning and I had just enough energy to be bored with sitting around. I had a slow start to the morning, but every time I sat down I felt like I was suffering from rigor mortis**. Common knowledge said let the muscles rest, but I felt like some light activity would be good and preventing me from stiffening up. Thankfully, Jaime was flexible and agreed to come a short jaunt into nature at Purgatory Falls near my house. She was not fond of the name "Purgatory" for anything, and not surprisingly the myth of the area isn't much more upbeat. It goes as such:
Cookin' in the Devil's Beanpot
Once upon a time (don't all myths HAVE to start that way?) the Devil visited Purgatory Falls, where he made his home to watch over the people of Mont Vernon. Being the devious devil he was, he disguised himself and invited the elders of the town over for a bean supper. The elders anxiously awaited while he stirred his beans, and the Devil unknowingly conjured up too much heat and got his foot stuck in the rocks. He swore and grew very frustrated, and the elders soon realized who really was and fled. He left behind the "Devil's Beanpot", a giant hole in the middle of the rock, and the "Devil's Footprint", a 7-foot long human shaped footprint. Side note: for some reason I could not stop laughing at that old-timey man hanging out in the beanpot. I don't know, it's a slow day at work.
The Purgatory Brook Trail is one that I been on many times over the course of my life simply because it's about 5 mintues from my house. The trail is about 3 miles end-to-end, but for whatever reason I've never done a round trip. The past few years I've stuck to the Lower Falls because it's a very short walk from the trail head, but as a kid I often went to the Upper Falls where the Devil's Beanpot and Footprint are. The trail follows the Purgatory Brook and is quite easy to navigate. The ease of the trail attracts many families and can be crowded on nice days. A note on the trail though - I noticed a lot of the blazes are very faded and many of the areas are well traveled enough that the path isn't always that obvious. It is hard to get very lost, though, so even someone with no experience would find their way.
We set out towards the Lower Falls, and I made the mistake of telling Jaime there were a lot of black bears in the area. She was convinced we were doomed. Thankfully, the only wildlife we came across was a small garter snake, which is not high on the list of animals I like to see but is low on the list of animals that could rip my face off.
Taking a dive
The Lower Falls are a short walk into the woods (maybe a 1/2 mile at most). We spent most of our time at the top of the falls enjoying the sun. Everyone clap for Jaime -insert clapping here-, as she successfully navigated some precarious rocks to get to the top of the falls. She had herself convinced that every obstacle (however large or small) that was not flat ground would leave her on her ass with a twisted ankle, but she made it through just fine.
From the Lower Falls we continued on towards the Bridge (as seen above on the map). The trail followed the Brook and had a couple rocky crossings over small streams, but nothing too intense.
The Bridge crosses over the Purgatory Brook and provides for a lovely photo opportunity, as seen of my feet. We certainly had enough time to hike to the other end and come back, but I suddenly realized how hungry and tired I was. I think I spent the whole time on the bridge talking about what kinds of food I wanted to eat. The exhaustion from the race finally caught up to me, the ache in my muscles was starting to grow, and I was ready for a XL sandwich.
We did about 2 miles round trip, but it was a pleasant and easy nature walk. I want to go back soon and do the whole trail!
**Disclaimer: I know I was not ACTUALLY suffering from rigor mortis, as I was not dead. I felt the need to include that since Jaime yelled at me when I said I was going rigor mortis.
I signed up for the New England Spartan Sprint a few months ago with (at the time) a group of "new friends". Some I had known for a little while longer, but they weren't the group of people I was hanging out with a lot (now I love them all dearly). I was hiking a decent amount at the time, but my running was still not that great. I said "sure, why not" and signed up on a whim. I quickly realized the team name was their Fraternity name, meaning it would be all boys. I pleaded with the other girl in the room to please, please sign up so I wouldn't be the only girl. I knew at least two of the people on the team were military veterans, and I assumed that meant they could whoop my ass. I didn't want to be the only girl.
But alas, I was the only girl, and I was determined to show I could keep up with the boys. My preparations started about a month before the race. I knew I couldn't just rely on being a quick runner and relatively light, I had to be strong. I started adding weights to my workouts and tried to get the gym as often as possible. I told myself I would get in a few sessions with a personal trainer at my gym, but work got in the way. I started working around 50 hours a week, usually 7 days a week, so it was tough to find time to get to the gym at all. I was nervous, but I found myself getting excited. I kept talking to my family about it, boasting that I was the only girl on a team with all boys. My cousin was also running, and it happened that he was the heat after mine. We kept up a friendly smack-talk in the weeks leading up the race, and though he threatened to "bring a broom to sweep me off the course" I felt better knowing I would have a family member there.
I kept drifting back the Spartan website while I was at work. I came across the video above and I must have watched it five times in a row. It almost brought a tear to my eye... half inspirational-tear, half oh-shit-you're-an-idiot tear. A wave of self doubt crashed over me - why in the HELL did I think I was qualified to do anything like this??? I found solace in the fact the website said almost everyone that starts the Sprint finishes. Still, I hadn't been in a "race" since my days of track & field many years ago, and nothing this "tough".
Another big change I made during my preparations was say goodbye!!!!! to my scale. I had been so focused on the number that hitting a certain weight took priority over my overall fitness. I hit the plateau and I had to have been gaining muscle, therefore losing no weight and gaining a few pounds from time to time. Finally, I realized it was stupid to be getting so frustrated over the number. I quit the scale cold turkey and focused on my overall fitness and strength instead. I weighed myself this morning after not having done so for over a month, and I gained five pounds but I feel much stronger.
I was not as prepared as I would have liked going into the race, but one thing I could do was carb-load. Jaime and I went to Sweet Cheeks for BBQ the night before, and I ate my weight in pulled pork. I was uncomfortably full for the rest of the night and had to force myself to drink water. I waddled into bed around 10pm and noticed my throat was burning. REALLY, I thought, I'M ACTUALLY GETTING SICK. REALLY. I was on the verge seeing my pulled pork in reverse, and seriously thought that between my throat and full stomach I would not make it to the race. I drifted off into a meat-coma and had a very restless, uncomfortable sleep. My throat was still aching in the morning and it was tough to get in a satisfying breath. I thought there was no way I could race like that. But the rest of me felt fine, I was a little tired but I didn't have the telltale fatigue or pains of being sick aside from the throat. I decided it was "just allergies" and pulled myself out of bed. No way was I going to pay $100 for a race and then lay in bed all day instead. I would not let a group of boys say "oh, what a girl" (I doubt they would have seriously been mad at me, but I let it serve as my motivation).
I was meeting my teammates at their place to drive up, and before I left I watched the new video on the Spartan website for some last-minute inspiration. I mostly watched in terror at some of the obstacles I would inevitably face in a few hours, but one line stuck out to me: "Nobody will hit you harder than life, but it ain't about how hard you're hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward." I've had emotional "hits" in my life, as everyone has, but it's rare that I'm faced with a physical challenge that really beats me down. The adrenaline overpowered my inability to take a deep breath, and I thought yeah, I'm gonna rock this today. It's gonna hurt, but I'm gonna rock it.
Our drive up was marred with bouts of serious traffic, and what should have been less than an hour turned into a two hour trip. We arrived with only a half hour to spare before our heat, which left me frantically taping my knees with KT tape and sports wrap (my cousin would later say "I thought I saw you when you walked in, but I wasn't sure. Then I saw your legs were all sorts of taped up and I knew it had to be you"). We dropped off our bags and headed to the start line to stretch for a few precious moments before our heat began. There was a customary get-hyped-up speech, and just like that we were off.
Up, Under, Through
We were off. Uphill. Our team split into two and I stayed with my friend Dennis and Chris, both military men that I was confident were experienced enough to guide me through the course, and could throw my ass over a wall if necessary (it was). Our first obstacle was three walls, over one, under one, through one. Not too bad, I thought. We continued into the woods for some technical trail running, which proved tricky with some very muddy sections, rocks, and roots. We came to a split in the trail; left promised to be shorter but more technical, right was easier but longer. We went left. My cousin told me that going left meant navigating down a near vertical descent, so I started to worry for the old knees. I realized at this very early point in the race that I had an ability a lot of people did not, the ability to be unphased by hills. Of course there were people smokin' me left and right, but it seems like the hills really killed a lot of people. It was challenging, no doubt, but being a hiker gave me a huge advantage in that area. The "difficult downhill section" was no more than a little 5 foot hill that was easily navigated by a controlled slide on the butt. I chuckled thinking about descending Mt. Lafayette's loose rock for miles and miles, now THAT was a difficult descent.
Just as unpleasant as it looks.
After some more hills we popped back out of woods and to one of my most feared obstacles - the rope climb. Spartan Race is unique in each failed obstacle requires a set of 30 burpees. I was determined to only do one set at the javelin throw (more on that later). I tried to channel my inner-gymnast that could scurry up a rope like it was nothing. Starting a pool of murky, muddy water was not helpful, and I was sure that the spectators standing nearby would get a lovely show of me flailing backwards into a pool of brown. Before I knew it I was somehow halfway up the rope with only two more knots before the bell. How the hell did I just manage that? I thought. I took a breather and noticed a woman beside me struggling make the last push to ring the bell. She gave up just a few feet from the top. I wondered why, then I looked up and realized there was no knot that high up, and getting to the bell meant free-climbing the last few feet. Thankfully I was able to dig deep and pull myself up.
Look at how much fun they're having!
I got to the water station and to the next obstacle before my teammates, but I figured I should take the head start since our next task was to carry a bag full of sand up and down the hill. The boys undoubtedly had a heavier bag than I, but my hiker-legs really helped me again. It was certainly a lighter weight and much shorter distance than some of the packs I've hiked with. I waited for the boys to finish and started scoping out our next obstacle, the traverse wall. I immediately cursed myself for underestimating how hard it would be, and the failure rate seemed quite high. I decided to wait for my comrades and not tackle this one on my own.
Damn you, traverse wall.
The boys went before me and did it successfully. They told me to keep three points of contact on the wall at all times, hold my body as close the wall as possible, and keep my weight in my legs. I spider-manned my way onto the wall and it became a game of Twister as they told me where to move each body part. "Okay, left foot now"... and the hold my left foot was going to seemed impossibly far away. I knew I couldn't just sit there, so I went for it and made it. This continued for most of the wall; I was about halfway when my arms started to burn. I knew most of my weight should be in my legs, but all four limbs were clutching on for dear life and my arms turned into wet noodles. I fell with only one or two moves left before dinging the bell. I heard Chris and Dennis praise my attempt, but I went into a rage, punched the wall, and dropped a very loud F-bomb (sorry, kiddos). Burpees it was. I was mad at myself for not being able to physically complete it, and for underestimating the obstacle, but in the midst of my burpees I remembered it was more important to brush off defeat and keep going despite my noodly arms.
We immediately came to a steep but easy climb up a 30-ish-foot ladder, across the top, and down the other side. Those with a fear of heights would not appreciate this much, but I scurried up and down pretty quickly. We jogged uphill to a muddy wall with ropes (not as big as the one to the left, but the same idea). I had seen people do it before and knew I had to keep my feet in front of me, lest I fall and smack my face on the wall. Surprisingly I made it up in one shot and once we were all over we climbed the rest of the hill and went back into the woods for a quick run to a field that held the muddiest obstacles.
No one came out this clean.
We slid downhill to meet our first "big mud obstacle", a series of dirt mounds and dips into brown, muddy water. There were four pits of the murky water, each one deeper than the last. Between each mini-mud-lake was a pile of wet dirt and mud to climb over. By the last pool of water we were up to our stomachs in the stuff. I pulled myself out and realized I had no hope of clearing the muck out of my shoes or shorts; I would just have to deal with it for the rest of the course.
Ours was much higher!
I jogged over to the next obstacle while my teammates tried to clean our their shoes a bit. It was a wall, and I figured I might be able to get over it without their support. The closer I got the more I realized that was not the case - it was an inverted wall that I couldn't even see over. There was no way I was making it over alone. "Hey, you guys have to throw my ass over this", I yelled as they jogged over. My teammate Chris went first and made it to the top with a helpful shove from Dennis. I spider-manned myself onto the first hold for the second time that day, and once I was off the ground Dennis quite literally shoved my ass the rest of the way. Dennis made it up and over on his own (what a beast!). I stood there cheering him on and eagerly bouncing around, and he told me I had way too much energy. Not bad for someone who seriously thought they wouldn't even make it to the course. There was a water station in sight, but first we had to do our first crawl under wire. Thankfully, this wasn't barbed wire and it was high enough that you didn't have to be on your stomach. It was more of an inconvenience than a challenge, but it did get us a tad more muddy. After stopping for water we jogged back into the woods for a very, very muddy, slippery, rocky, and hilly trail run. I was as careful as I could be, because I didn't want my future to include a twisted knee or ankle. I ran as much as I could, but traffic and slippery conditions slowed everyone down until our next obstacle...
Up and over the 8 footer!
...pulling a giant rock. It was unpleasant, but not considerably difficult. I heard that it was a much shorter distance than years past, and I wasn't complaining! We dipped back into the woods for a bit before our next challenge - the 8 foot wall. I was once again thankful for having two teammates much stronger than I. There was a "girls" section, and females were allowed to use two red blocks on the wall to help themselves to get over. Dennis looked at me and said, "uh uh. You are not using those." I attribute my getting over that wall to him, though, because he threw me on his shoulder like we were playing chicken which allowed me to reach the top of the wall and haul myself over. I dropped down the other side and hit the ground a little harder than I would have liked, but thankfully my joints held up just fine. Once we were all over we hopped on the trail again to our next obstacle, hauling a concrete block up in the air via a pulley, then lowering it back down. The girls one was almost too easy, and I pulled it up and down quite easily. The boys one, on the other hand, was apparently much heavier than years past. I watched as ten very muscular men struggled to haul the block up with their entire weight on the rope.
Damn monkey bars.
After the boys defeated the blocks we were greeted with what I'm convinced was mud-quick-sand. It was thick, nasty black mud that claimed many shoes and sufficiently annoyed us for about 100 feet. The more you struggled to get out the quicker it sucked you in. It was, in short, disgusting, so I was not happy when Dennis came up behind me with two handfuls and rubbed the stuff down my back. He reminded me that I was already covered in mud, so I let him give me some "war paint" on my face with the mud as they had done to theirs. I was ready to go on a date. My good spirits fell as I saw our next challenge - the monkey bars. I used to be able to swing around monkey bars like... well, a monkey. But it had been years and my arms were spent. I saw burpees in my future. My gloves were caked in my dried mud, and I slipped off on the first one. I took my defeat much better this time, I managed to not punch anything or scream expletives. After my burpees we started our last leg of the journey with about 1/4 mile or so of uphill trail. The boys certainly had me beat in strength, but I think I had them beat in uphill endurance (to be fair, Dennis was coming off of a sickness and was carrying a CamelBak, which added weight). I valued the team atmosphere and I certainly didn't want to do it without them, but I wanted to challenge myself. I ran up the hill just to see if I could - turns out I could.
SUCCESS (that's not me, though)
I was greeted with a tire pull, which required us to drag a big tire out until the rope was taught, go back, and haul the tire back in. Not so bad. But out of the corner of my eye I saw our next obstacle, the dreaded javelin throw. It wasn't very physically challenging, just throw a spear at a bale of hay, but I only had one chance and I figured there was no way in hell I could do it. It also looked incredibly badass in 300, and I knew I couldn't be that badass. There was a special section roped off for people to do burpees. Great. I looked back to see my teammates catching up after their tire pull, and I realized I wasn't going to fail in private. I picked up a javelin (really a glorified pointy broomstick), stepped up to the front, and tossed it. I watched it glide effortlessly through the air as in in slow-motion and stick firmly into the bale of hay. If ever there was a Hulk moment in my life, it was me cheering (manly screaming) after that javelin stuck. I went into this absolutely 100% sure I would fail at that, and I didn't. It was not the most physically challenging thing by far, but it was the most satisfying. Take that, bale of hay.
Misery.
I went down the "non-burpees" path with a spring in my step, but the spring was quickly diminished by the sight of our second-to-last obstacle - the barbed wire crawl. It didn't look too bad, I thought, but from what I had seen online it seemed like it would be miserable. I shouted back to my teammates that I would start since it might take me longer, and leapt over a huge bale of hay into the mud. Ah, not that bad, it's kinda short! I thought. I got on stomach and army crawled under the wire to a little mud hill. I should mention that it's not just mud, it's mud and rocks.... lots of rocks. Lots of tiny little rocks scraping you with every movement. Lots of big rocks to knock your elbows on. Lots of rocks. I pulled myself up on the hill, and what seemed "not that bad" was suddenly "oh shit, are you kidding me?" I heard through the grapevine that the total thing was 1/4 mile long. It. Was. Miserable. One of the best ways to do it is turn sideways and roll. I did that after getting my hair caught in the barbed wire and having to get it out with my face in the mud. I bad to flip back onto my stomach a few feet before a deep brown, murky water pit. The last few feet were filled with hundreds of tiny rocks just below the mud. It was like pulling myself across a cheese grater. I slid down into the water towards a big wall - a wall that you could only get around by full immersing yourself in the mud-water and swimming under it. I stood there for about 30 seconds simply because I knew how disgusting it would be when I got to the other side. Disgusting, it was. I emerged on the other side in complete darkness - my sunglasses were completely covered in the brown water (as was my whole body). I took them off and staggered around blindly for a minute before finding a discarded shirt. I found a small clean patch that was just enough to clean the crap off of my sunglasses and allow me to not finish the race blind as a bat.
Fire jump!
After regrouping for a lovely mud picture, we proceeded to our last big obstacle - the fire jump. The path to get there was short but very muddy, and I was taken out by a guy who tried to run down it and fell. Thankfully I was already practically on my ass, because I would have ended up there anyway. The jump over the fire looks pretty badass, but it's not a huge jump. The difficulty came from running through water to get up to it, and from the unfortunate winds that blew all of the smoke into our faces. Only one or two people could get over at a time, so standing there trying to find a good time to go meant inhaling much more smoke that I would have liked.
With the last major obstacle complete, there was just a downhill slope and three burly men with oversized Q-tips standing between me and the finish line. The three burly men are tasked with knocking you down one last time before you reach the finish line. OH NO, BURLY MEN, YOU AREN'T KNOCKING ME OVER. I took a few seconds to check back and see where my teammates were and amp myself up to plow through three men that were triple my size. I ran full speed and got past the first two guys. I saw the third coming at me with his giant Q-tip, dropped my shoulder, and put my full weight against him. I ended up hitting him much more than the Q-tip thing (though Chris Douglass told me my weight probably didn't move him much... whatever), and I sprinted happily across the finish line.
HORRAH!
My cousin Chris (there are a lot of Chris's in this post) crossed the finish line not far behind me, so I was able to reunite with him and my whole team there. We walked over to the showering station caked in mud from head to toe donning our finisher medals. I hosed myself off for probably ten minutes straight and got nowhere near clean.
Badass runs in the family
Finished!
I hadn't experienced a true runner's high since competing in track many years ago, and I definitely had a huge runners high after this race. I felt great. I was all smiles and had tons of energy. One free beer and free t-shirt later, we hopped on a bus and reminisced about the tough course the whole way back to the car. I was driving back home with my cousin for a night in NH, and about halfway through the ride the adrenaline started wearing off and I noticed some of the big scrapes I had. My parents met me with a Sam Adams Octoberfest (too soon, in my opinion) in hand. We went out to the beloved King Kone. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I was hunched over devouring a taco, corn dog, and ice cream like a barbarian.
Thanks, rocks!
My muscles started to ache by the time we got home, and I immediately jumped into the shower. I still had what seemed like endless amounts of mud, rocks, and grass stuck in very random places on my body - in my ears, running down my legs, in my shoes, in my bra, etc. It wasn't until I got out of the shower that I realized how badly my body was beat up. My arms were covered in tiny scrapes from crawling through the rocks, and my legs and stomach suffered the same fate. I looked like I got into a fight with a rabid cat. I sat on the couch around 9:15 and was asleep within 15 minutes. An eleven hour slumber wasn't enough to totally re-energize me, but I was used to the feeling. I equated it with how I felt after a day of hiking, but with considerably more wounds to attend to. The hardest part has been the soreness in my arms and shoulders, which are definitely the weakest part of my body. They feel like bricks. I hobbled outside after breakfast and several cups of coffee in an attempt to clean my clothes, which I had just left rotting in a bag. It took me four rounds of hosing to get the water coming off the clothes to be somewhat clear. Who knew that much mud could fit into spandex shorts?
Overall, this was such a great experience. I owe a lot of my success to my teammates, Dennis carried extra weight in a CamelPak so we could stay hydrated on the course, and both were vital components of getting me through certain obstacles. I literally could not have done several obstacles without them there. I know I could have made my time faster by using my adrenaline fueled energy and running the entire thing, but I'm glad I didn't. It was as much about team spirit as it was about finishing.
I can shamelessly say I am really proud of myself. I went into it thinking there was no way I could keep up with my male teammates, that I was grossly unqualified to do something like this. But I came out of it feeling pretty tough, and feeling really proud that I completed it with a smile on my face. As I sit here aching, trying not to scratch my itchy, healing wounds, still beat, I can't help but get excited to do it again. My teammates have the same mindset - we're already planning our team for the November Spartan Sprint at Fenway Park. My cousin Chris and I are planning on tackling a Tough Mudder next year together, too. I'll do a fist pump about that later... because right now it hurts too much to move my arm like that.
I DID IT!! * The photos used are not my own, and are not from my race.
I find myself asking this question every summer, but this summer is different. The first half of the summer I only had one job, and I was only working 15 hours a week - great for having a life, not great for having any money to have said life (or pay bills). Though, in the summer I will sit my ass on the beach all day for $0 and be happy as a clam. The second half of the summer has been the equivalent of the e-card to the right. I work about 45-50 hours a week now; I need the money and love working at REI but the retail world eats up weekends. I considered devoting all of my time to REI, but I make more dollars/hour at my "office job" at the school so it makes sense for me to stay. The ironic thing about working at REI is that all of your coworkers would LOVE to go hiking/do outdoor things with you, but we all work too much to be able to do so.
So, sadly, my lack of updates since my last adventure is simply because I haven't had the time to have any adventures. Thankfully I do have a few exciting things coming up in August, including and (hopefully) not limited to: the Spartan Sprint August 10th, hiking with Jaime the day after (let's hope my body isn't too broken from the race), and a camping/hiking trip at the end of August up the White Mountains.
I may be lacking in the outdoor adventure department, but I did host an urban adventure for a friend visiting from Virginia Beach. I have given a lot of open invitations for people to stay with me in Boston, and very few of those ever pan out. I met and got to know the friends of my friends, Chris and Christine, on my two visits to their new home of Virginia Beach (I say new, but it's been almost a year). I gave open invitations to the friends-of-friends to come see Boston any time they wanted, and to my surprise two actually took me up on that offer. It was a good surprise, though! Visit # 1 from Jareld was this past weekend, so I put on my Boston-tour-guide hat and prepared to be an uber-tourist in my own city.
Boston by Land
Pumpkin beer in middle of summer! Awesome.
Boston is nicknamed "The Walking City" for a reason, and walking around is probably the best way to see everything. Who wants to be on the train, anyway? I have a special distaste for the MBTA right now, because some asshole stole my debit card and bought a weekly MBTA pass with it (and one other purchase that I think is McDonald's). It's bad enough that I spend so much of my time/money on the train, but paying for someone else to do the same is pretty obnoxious... though I can think of no better punishment than that person being stuck on the green line without air conditioning.
Anyway, we checked out the Harpoon Brewery and new beer hall they opened a few months ago. For just $5 we were able to take a tour of the brewery and were treated to a 20 minute open bar, where we could sample various brews. The tour guide was awesome, the beer was fantastic, the beer hall was spacious and inviting, the pretzels were fresh, and the $5 was worth spending.
Let's go Red Sox *clap clap, clap-clap-clap*
We walked from the waterfront, through the financial district, through the Commons and Public Garden, through Back Bay, and ended at Fenway for the game. I'm not a huge baseball fan, but some of my favorite people in my life are obsessed (I won't name names....). I have an uncanny ability to realize that I'm essentially talking to a brick wall because they're busy with looking at their fantasy baseball team lineup on their phones. I say this with love. I tend to despise the Sox games simply because they inconvenience me in many ways. I work near Fenway, so on game days we tend to get quite busy with people trying to kill time. Good for business, but sometimes a little crazy. The games sometimes get out exactly when I leave work, so after a 10 hour work day I am forced to share the train with hoards of drunk Sox fans. Anyway, despite not really caring about baseball I love going to games. The Sox are only half the entertainment, the other half comes from raucous, drunk Bostonians (much more fun at the park than on the train after work) and appalled tourists. There's also something very nostalgic about eating peanuts at the ballpark, wishing you could wash it down with a beer, but realizing you would rather cry than pay $9 for a Bud Light. Sadly the Sox didn't win, but it was a great time nonetheless.
Boston by Air
Hello, Boston!
One of my favorite out-of-towner activities is the Skywalk in the Prudential Center. I went for the first time last year after avoiding it for the previous 3.5 years thinking it was just a stupid tourist trap. A tourist trap it is, but a cool tourist trap at that. The Skywalk is on the 50th floor of the Prudential, and it's about as high up as you're going to get in Boston without being in blimp, plane, or helicopter. Sadly, I do not have access to any of those things so the Skywalk is the best substitute. I always love seeing things in a different way, and each time I've been it's a great way to fall in love with the place I live all over again. I pass through so many awesome things in this city every day without taking time to notice or appreciate them. It was also a great opportunity to see which buildings had rooftop pools, aka where I need to find some friends. Though this post is chronologically out of order, the Skywalk was the last big stop in our Tour-De-Boston, so it was a good way to see where we had been.
Boston by Sea
Sweet, sweet, glorious king crab.
...food. We love our seafood, and so do Virginia Beachians (is that the proper term? I agonized over it for a while). I took Jareld to The Barking Crab, one of my favorite seafood places in the city. It's a bit of a tourist trap, but the casual, picnic-table style is great... especially for me because I make a huge mess and dump half my food on myself or the floor wherever I go. I went to The Barking Crab a few years ago after becoming obsessed with the show Deadliest Catch. I had to see what all the hoopla about king crab was about. Let me tell you, I saw the light. Unfortunately, my wallet also saw the light as I took it out to empty the contents in order to pay for king crab legs. I've been only once or twice since my first visit, so I was super excited to get my hands on some crab legs again. We each got a platter from the raw bar menu, which was essentially a sampler platter of yumminess. But included in said yumminess were oysters, something I had never tried before. I do okay with weird textures and tastes, but overall I'm not the most adventurous eater you've ever met. I figured I had to see what all the hype was about over fresh oysters, though, so I loaded one up with some butter and hot sauce. I don't even really remember what it tasted like since the gooey glob quickly slid down my throat, but my first response was "well..... I didn't hate it." I didn't hate it, but I wasn't itching to eat the rest. I was more consumed with my lobster roll, crab legs, whole lobster, and shrimp. What a meal!
I see Duck Tours every day, but in five years I had not been on one myself. I had overheard plenty of facts and could have probably pieced together the entire tour from memory, but I figured that would be a great way to see Boston. Our tour guide was absolutely hilarious and has us laughing for the whole 80 minute ride. Jareld said that I had already shown him the big things and gave him a lot of the facts the tour did (excuse me while I pat myself on the back), but there was plenty of things I had never heard. The coolest part was transitioning from land to water, which the World War II amphibious vehicle does with ease. I have never been afloat in the Charles, and it was a really great view. The Charles River doesn't really qualify as "sea", but it was awesome nonetheless.
We ate our way around the city and saw the sites three different ways, a true Tour-De-Boston. Sometimes urban adventures are just as fun as the outdoor ones.
Before
Once I set my mind on completing the White Mountain 4,000 Footer list, I thought maybe I should start with the smallest mountain - Mt. Tecumseh, 4,003 feet, still 837 feet higher than Mt. Monadnock, the highest mountain I had climbed in years. My line of thought somehow warped into choosing the sixth highest mountain in the state, the highest outside of the Presidential Range - Mt. Lafayette. I had heard good things (and later I would hear some bad things), but 5,260 feet of elevation had me worried. So, I recruited my friend Court who willingly obliged to a day-long excursion. He offered to be my hiking buddy a few weeks ago, and I was stupidly excited since he hiked a huge chunk of the AT ("I must not be THAT hopeless after all!"). I have been enjoying learning things on my own, sometimes the hard way, but I knew I could use the guidance of a more experience hiker. Plus, it would be a great way for me to get to know the guy who's been dating one of my best friends (and Facebook wife) for so long.
So, I chose Mt. Lafayette. My research turned up that it would be about a 8 mile trip up and down, or an 8.9 mile trip for the loop. I immediately started doubting my abilities. The loop consists of three mountains (though I somehow forgot this the day of... read on); the 4,800 foot Little Haystack Mountain, the 5,089 foot Mt. Lincoln, and the 5,260 ft Mt. Lafayette. To do all three is to complete the Franconia Ridge Trail, which links up to several other trails and the Greenleaf Hut along the way. My doubt started to grow as we worked out the logistics, but Court reassured that I would be fine. My NH hiking guide rated the views as a 5/5, and the difficulty as a 10/10. Oh, crap. I felt a little better that Mt. Monadnock had the same rating. But... a mountain 2,094 feet higher than the biggest mountain I've hiked in recent memory? Even more troubling: the elevation gain of Mt. Monadnock is around 2,094 feet whereas this trail was almost 4,000 feet of elevation gain. Even MORE troubling: the site I was using for reference estimated the total time would be 6.25 hours for about 9 miles. I hiked almost 17 miles in 7 hours on the Wapack Trail. In short, I knew I was in for a challenge.
The night before I'm doing something important or exciting (first day of work, waking up for a flight, etc.) I always have a stress dream. This was no different. I was supposed to be up at 6am, and in my dream I slept until 9:30, Court was calling me to see why I had blown him off, and there was 6 inches of slush on the ground in July. "I'm so sorry, I slept in! It's supposed to be 90 degrees today, maybe the slush will melt!" None of those things happened. I was up before my alarm and we left our neck of the woods at 7:00. It's about an hour and a half drive to the White Mountains region, and after a few minutes of confusion over where the trail head was we parked among a sea of cars and prepared to set off. On the drive up we decided to change our plans from hiking up Old Bridle Path (the most direct) to taking Falling Waters Trail, a friend had suggested the Falling Waters Trail since it had, believe it or not, some lovely falling water and was less steep than Old Bridle.
During
Along the Falling Waters Trail
Hours 0 - 2: We hastily set off to avoid being stuck with a group of about 15-20 people that were converging at the trail head. No thanks. The Falling Waters Trail did not disappoint! There were some sections of high, fast moving water, but I only had a fully submerged boot once. I was carrying a ridiculously large expedition pack provided by my step dad that shifted around a little bit when I was jumping, which did not make for the most graceful leaps. My waterproof boots held up, though. It was hot and humid, and though hiking along the water provided some cool breezes we were thankful for some ice cold, crystal clear mountain water. I hesitated for a moment, envisioning myself bent over vomiting from some bacteria, but my fears were eased when I saw how clear the water was. A water fall coming out of the side of a mountain is about as safe as you can get. My mom still wasn't too happy with that, but I'm here, right?
Trail, or rock climb?
This trail was quite unforgiving, with very few stretches of flat ground and plenty of places to face plant. I wanted to keep a decent pace to prove to myself that I could do it, but also to make sure we were making good time. I'm proud to say that I did quite well! It was not without a lot of sweating and feeling like I wanted to vomit at some points. The trail is riddled with rocks and roots, so almost every step had to carefully placed. We stopped twice, once for a water break / my inability to breathe, and once so I could wrap my knee, which was starting to feel particularly wobbly. Did I mention that I strained something in my knee about a week ago? No? Well I did, and it was feeling particularly unsettled all week. Not very reassuring when you're going to be stepping over uneven rocks for 6 hours. Just before our second pit stop I said to myself "Oh, Molly, you will never hike the AT because this is miserable and why do you want to do this to yourself?" Then I ate a Chewy bar and Gatorade "energy chew" that my parents bought me for my birthday, and I suddenly felt much better. It's amazing what a little gooey square of pure corn syrup will do for morale. We finally started to see some viewpoints when we were almost at the summit (though we didn't know that), and were able to look back onto "'The Old Man In The Mountain' Mountain (RIP)", as I call it, or Cannon Mountain, as most other people call it.
Hours 2 - 4: We popped out to the summit just about 2 hours after setting out. As I mentioned before, I somehow forgot that we were going to Little Haystack Mountain and not Mt. Lincoln. In my head I had planned to do the loop in the other direction, meaning Mt. Lafayette first, and it just slipped my mind that it was three mountains and not two. I quickly realized my mistake when I saw a marker that said "Mt. Lincoln" with an arrow pointing left. I quietly cursed myself as I looked over to Mt. Lincoln, realizing that we had two more "uphill" stretches instead of one. A double-decker PB&J, Dorito's, and astounding views quickly reset my woes, though I had almost zero appetite.
View from the Summit of Little Haystack Mountain (stolen from Court)
Headed towards Mt. Lincoln
Cameras rarely do justice to what you see with your eyes, but the photo I stole from Court's much-nicer-camera comes close. We spent about 20 or 30 minutes at the summit of Little Haystack before heading towards Mt. Lincoln. The trail, though still quite rocky in some areas, was a nice change from the ascent. The rock-lined path across the ridge was easy to navigate and provided amazing views the entire way. We frequently stopped to take in our surroundings, or to await a traffic jam to clear. The path narrows significantly when it enters the trees, so it really only allows for one-way traffic. The ridge walk is almost completely exposed, and it's obvious to see how the weather could change drastically and conditions could become dangerous very quickly. Luckily, we had a mostly clear day (it was a little hazy), and we were thankful for some cloud cover so the sun wasn't beating down on us the whole time.
Looking towards Mt. Lafayette
Linking up the AT
We stopped only briefly at Mt. Lincoln, mainly so I could take my typical "here's my feet relaxing with a nice view" photo, but also because the biggest mountain, Mt. Lafayette, was next. The Franconia Ridge Trail is part of the AT, and I smiled when I saw the white blazes I knew were part of the AT. Huzzah! I started secretly hoping we would meet a thruhiker.
Success!!
About 2 miles after we left the summit of Little Haystack Mountain we arrived at the summit of Mt. Lafayette. It was crowded and a little noisier than I would have liked, but it was incredible nonetheless. Trees looked like toothpicks, cars were just little blobs of color, even the highway looked majestic. How often can you say nice things about 93? Reaching the third summit of the day was a great feeling, but the impending blisters I was feeling were not. I didn't bother to take off my boots, but I was silently rooting for the liners I purchased from REI to do their job. Basically, the idea is that the thin, form-fitting sock liner prevents blisters by creating a sock-on-sock instead of sock-on-skin situation. My hopes were being dashed as I felt the "hot spots" forming in the usual areas, but I was distracted by a particularly rugged-looking hiker reaching the summit and yelling "Okay, who brought the beer?!"
Looking back to Mt. Lincoln (stolen from Court)
We soaked up the view for a few more minutes before beginning our descent. I realized Court wasn't directly behind me, and when I turned I heard him ask the "where's-the-beer" guy if he was a thruhiker, and he was (afterwards Court told me "that was the thruhiker smell"). My silent hopes of running into a thruhiker were answered! He was particularly cheerful and eager to chat with us for a few minutes. I asked him why he was carrying a beat-up hockey stick with him, and he said his trail name was Puck. Fair enough. He was hiking North - South and had started in Maine 42 days ago. I offered up my uneaten Snicker's, which he humbly accepted after saying "oh... oh man... only if you're willing to part with it". As I was handing it to him, "blue-shirt-man" (nicknamed so because he was wearing a blue shirt) popped out behind us and offered him a pear. We wished him well and started our descent.
Heading to the Greenleaf Hut (small, but visible!)
Hours 4 - 6ish: The first mile or so was very rocky (seems to be the theme, right?), and crowded at times. Every step had to be carefully placed, which was true for almost the entire trail, to avoid becoming a tangle of flailing limbs. My knees were a tad wobbly, my ankles were starting to ache with each step, my quads were getting a decent workout, but I kept up a decent pace. We re-entered the woods where the trail slimmed down to one-way traffic again, and just under 2 miles after the summit we reached the Greenleaf Hut. But, oh, I left out a lovely squander of mine. There's a small lake next to the Greenleaf Hut, and the trail runs adjacent to a muddy section next to the lake. I went first, jumped from one rock to the next, and then thought I was close enough to effortlessly leap to over the last bit of mud to solid ground. Well, I underestimated my ability to jump from a standstill on a rock with an awkwardly large pack on my back. My left foot plunged into the mud up to my sock line, luckily I was able to rip it out before it went any deeper. Court laughed at me as I whacked the mud off on a rock. Thankfully my waterproof boots held up and no mud got through. I immediately praised myself for purchasing gaiters with the liners the day before, otherwise I would have certainly had a boot full of mud. The Greenleaf Hut was overrun with kids, but at least it had a bathroom for those of us without outdoor plumbing. I'm not against dropping trow in the woods, but I'd rather not if there's an option.
Looking back at Mt. Lafayette (left) and Mt. Lincoln (right)
A four mile descent down Old Bridle Path seemed much longer than that, because as I mentioned before I had to really pay attention to each step. I could feel myself getting tired but I knew that if I let my guard down it could end poorly. I was very thankful for my "hiking poles" (free ski poles from the dump) and every stretch of level ground. There were a few times that I crab-crawled down some rocks, because I figured I might as well be on my ass voluntarily rather than waiting for an ill-placed step to do it for me. Thankfully I didn't have any major qualms, but I did get two decent scrapes, one on each leg, from rubbing against a rock. I made a mental note to invest in the convertible pants I had been eyeing during my clothing training at work. Pants are abrasion resistant, my skin is not.
Can you tell which foot went in the mud?
The sound of water confirmed we had linked back up to the Falling Waters Trail, meaning the loop was complete! A short .2 mile walk on mostly level ground took us to the trail head and completed our journey. We walked under the highway and back to our car, where we saw two men trying to fish something out of their car window with their trekking poles. We assumed they had locked their keys in the car, but a few minutes later they told us their father had the keys and was on his way, they just wanted to get the beer that was inside. Fair enough. I peeled off my muddy boots, gaiters, and socks, and cringed awaiting my blister-riddled fate. But alas, the liners did their job and I was blister free! Best $6 (even less with my discount) I've spent. As we were packing up the car, blue-shirt-man, the one that gave Puck a pear, approached us asking for a ride back to a trail head 3 miles down the road. He thanked us several times, saying he didn't want to have to walk three miles after having done 10 miles of hiking. I thought back to the day I completed the last stretch of the Wapack, then had to walk 5.5 hilly miles to my car. I feel ya, bro, I feel ya.
After
The car ride home was quiet, mostly due to how exhausted we were. Sometimes silence can be awkward, especially with someone who haven't hung out with a lot, but the mutual understanding of how tired we were was enough to squash any need to make small talk. I noticed that I still had no appetite, but I made myself eat some jerky anyway. No appetite... but a beer wouldn't be so bad. I stopped at the store on the way home to get myself a celebratory beer. Later I would eat an amazing meal prepared by my mom and then venture out for a root beer float. Hiking is amazing for anyone who watches their calories. I burned around 3,200 calories, and I couldn't eat/drink enough to replace all of that.
I spent yesterday exhausted despite sleeping for 11 hours. I sat at a family friend's kids birthday party slumped in a chair, unable to finish a beer. I did put away three slices of pizza like a champ, though. My shoulders, back, and quads ached. I was doing well right after the hike, but the day after it seemed like every time I sat down it was harder to get up. Thankfully I'm feeling better today, and the only evidence of the trip are a few nasty bug bites and the scrapes on my legs. And some great pictures, obviously.
Overall, this was an A++ trip. The views were unbeatable, it was challenging yet rewarding, and I was able to check two mountains off my 4,000 list. Little Haystack Mountain is not on the list despite being over 4,000 feet; to be on the list a peak must rise 200 feet above any ridge connecting it to a higher neighbor (this disqualifies Little Haystack). I know I'm up for the challenge of the other 5,000 footers on the list, and hopefully the 6,288 foot Mt. Washington!
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