Part 2: Surgery

I was scheduled for Monday morning surgery at the IHC in Murray. The time between my ER visit and surgery is a blur of stress and drugs. Three of my kids had pneumonia. I was on a steady rotation of oxycodone and ibuprofen. I knew I needed the surgery, but still had no clue at how long this would take me out. I could only guess.... 4 weeks, 6 maybe? I held out the naive hope of denial that the October 50k that I had been training so hard for was still within reach. I think the drugs had something to do with my optimism as well.
Monday morning came, with the empty stomach and raw nerves that come with surgery. Aaron helped me to the car and the entire drive there I was a nervous wreck. I was facing one of my few big fears: Anesthesia. The only other time I had gone under was when I was 14 and had my wisdom teeth removed. I only have brief flashes of severe shaking and delusion. I effectively lost two days of conscious memory. My body had not reacted well. I had no desire to ever repeat it, and yet, here I was.  We entered the almost empty waiting room 2 minutes late, filled out paper work, and waited. Waiting is the worst. Aaron took a pre-op a picture of me with a nervous, fake smile on my face. I just sat waiting with this black electronic pager in my hand- like they have at the Olive Garden. As if I was waiting for soup, salad, and breadsticks. The pager came with instructions. "When you are paged, follow the blue line through the double doors." I hate hospitals. I was waiting for them to stamp a number on my forehead before they  knocked me out. I hadn't even met my surgeon.
The pager buzzed with flashing lights, and I suddenly craved greens in vinaigrette. Aaron paced along side me as I crutched along the blue line into a tiny room where my vitals were taken and I answered a few more questions. I followed the nurse to another room with a hospital bed, where I was given instructions and left with Aaron help me. Strip down to your undies, put on the gown (why do they call them gowns? Seriously. They are the furthest thing ever from glamorous!), put on the funny hat, put your belongings in this bag....
I was briefed... very briefly. This should only take two hours. It should be pretty simple.
I was asked if I had any concerns.
Yes... yes I did.
They wheeled me into a little room, where after more waiting, an IV was placed in my hand. Then I finally met my trauma surgeon, Dr. Chardack, as he bustled in to talk over my concerns, seeming flustered by my silly need to chat. I had so many questions about the procedure, but I got the feeling that he didn't have time for that.
"It's fine. We'll need a couple of pins and maybe a plate, if that. Oh, and by the way, do we have permission to use cadaver bone chips to graft if needed? That way we don't have to take bone from your hip."
Um, yes.... yes you do.
He began to bustle away again, but then turned back to me and said, "Oh yeah. I need to mark your leg for surgery. I envisioned the bandages being removed and him drawing out dotted lines where he would cut and marking spots to avoid. Maybe making a note or two. Instead he uncapped a marker, pulled back the very top of my bandage, and wrote "YES" below my knee. "Gotta make sure we do the right one!" He quipped, and hurried out of the room.
A short while later the nurse informed me that we couldn't start yet. There was a Life Flight helicopter on its way in and they needed to keep the OR clean and ready just in case it was needed to save the patient's life. It was hard to be annoyed by that. I sent up a sincere prayer for the poor soul in that chopper.
After learning that the OR was not needed, my anesthesiologist came to talk over my concerns and soothe my nerves. He was kind and understanding. He reassured me, and promised to monitor me very carefully as well as add Zofran for nausea to my IV before he brought me out of anesthesia.
Just a little more waiting for me, and then as we wheeled to the OR, Aaron was left to keep vigil while I slept. More waiting. Poor guy.



I came to in fuzzy bits of color. When I finally became aware of my surroundings, I was in yet another room. Aaron was beside me and the nurses were busy moving me to the new bed and settling me in. My gown came open and Aaron heroically snatched at it to protect my modesty. I had my first solid thought and voiced it loudly, "Where is my underwear?!"
Aaron held up a tied-off clear plastic bag containing my panties. "They just handed it to me," he said with a shrug.
I felt like barfing. I told the nurse so and she upped my Zofran. Sometime later the doc came in.
"Hey so that took longer than anticipated. It was kind of a mess in there."
I was too out of it to ask direct questions, but I remember him saying something about call for an appointment in a week, take meds, ice it, elevate as much as possible, keep it clean, keep it dry, and don't even think about putting weight on it for 8-12 weeks.
I don't remember much else except for the horrible feeling of my heart sinking into my queasy stomach.
When he left, I turned to Aaron. "How long was I out?"
"Around four hours."
Holy what??
The nurse, Brenda said I could go home as soon as I felt like it. Use the bathroom and get dressed. I crutched down the hall to the bathroom after Aaron helped me re-tie my glamorous gown so my naked bum wouldn't traumatize the other patients. As I moved, I noticed that I felt all squishy and lubey... down there. Yes, there.
I closed the bathroom door with wide eyes. What on earth had happened in that two extra hours of unconsciousness. The moment I began to pee, an answer I never thought I'd be grateful to know dawned on me. A catheter. They had had to place a catheter. Suddenly IHC was a little less creepy and suspicious.
When I returned, I asked the nurse."Did they have to cath me, Brenda?"
"Oh yeah, they did! Because of how long the surgery took. Did they not tell you that? Were you kind of freaked out?!"
Yes... yes I was.
Aaron helped me dress very carefully, and he and Brenda got me into a wheelchair and out to the car.
My stomach was a ravenous mess. We picked up In-n-Out protein-style for the whole fam and took it home to our poor, sick children.
Home. Food. Meds. Sleep. Gifts?
Katie had left me a girly spa care package.
Mark had posted to all of the Trail and Ultra Running community about my surgery and I had scads of well-wishing messages and encouragement from friends and strangers alike. Neighbors and friends showed up with dinners, cards, and gifts. My heart was overflowing, and my eyes acted in kind.
Friends came to clean my house. Cindy came at a minutes notice to change my bandages. Katie came to keep me company. I think for an entire week, I was a duplicitous sobbing mess of drug-induced euphoria over the kindness and love that I was inundated with, and the pain, despair, anger and denial that came in the time between the meds wearing off and kicking in again.
The healing had begun in theory. But I had no idea what lay in store for me in the next few months. Physically, emotionally, mentally.
It's one of those things you can't understand until you go through it. If someone had tried to tell me. I would never have believed them.

To be continued...
Next up: Aftermath: The horrid and wonderful journey of endless tears and not a single step

Injury (Part 1)

I suppose it's time to write this down. I've missed a lot.
First, the catch-up:

On July 14th, it was the 3rd annual Butler Bolt- an unofficial race/ fun run put on by Mark Robbins. Aaron and I rode to the trail head up Big Cottonwood Canyon with Katie and Chris and their friend. It's a steep and beautiful course and I was quickly left behind on the uphill. I cruised down the downhill like I was made for it and had an amazing time. It was so good to be up in the scenery of the mountains.



On July 16th, it was Katie's birthday. Most girls might want a shopping and spa day with their girlfriends, but she wanted a birthday run... with me. I was honored. We ran up The Dude in the heat of day, we chased horny toads, got lost (as is our usual m.o.), ran out of water, I got a cactus stuck in my leg (which Katie removed for me after she had laughed properly), and we generally had an amazing time.

On July 18th, I snuck out for a solo 5k on the BST in the wee morning hours. I'll admit I didn't have the best attitude about it, but it was just enough to lift my spirits. The sun coming up through Steed Creek canyon as I ran through meager stream was a moment that in hindsight, I'm glad I noticed. It was a moment that would have to sustain me for the coming months.



The day was full of plans. Aaron was going to go summit Lone Peak with friends Chris and Steve. He'd be gone until early morning, at which time he would shower and leave with his brother Matt to volunteer at the Larry's Hole aid station of the legendary SpeedGoat 50k. I didn't plan on seeing him until later the next afternoon. I had received word on Monday that the Heber Valley Half was cancelled, so my weekend was all freed up. Our friend Jennilyn (whom I can't keep up with, so we've never really run together), had invited me to go bouldering and camping in Little Cottonwood Canyon with our kids. Yes, this Jennilyn. Her husband was supposed to go on a climbing trip, and we both thought we'd rather play than be lonely. I was stoked and very nervous to finally get to go climbing with Jennilyn. I had never really bouldered. Jennilyn has been climbing for years and the opportunity to learn basics from her was exciting. This beside the fact that I love the girl, and we rarely get to just hang out. I planned on heading down to meet Jennilyn at Tanner's Flat campground as soon as I had everything packed and ready. I had a cooler bag full of food and a van packed with camping equipment and kids. Jennilyn got off work later than anticipated and took longer to pack than expected (just like I had), so by the time I got to the canyon, she was still working on it and I was on my own to go grab us a campsite. But I couldn't. Because there weren't any. We were too late. Both legal campsites in the canyon were full. I called Jennilyn and headed back down the canyon. She said to meet her at the Park n Ride and we'd figure out a course of action. We discussed our options- from setting up tents illegally, to camping in her back yard. Until we threw up our hands and said, "Let's just go climbing. We'll figure it out later." We drove just a few miles back up the canyon, parked roadside, changed into our climbing things and packed the crash pads, equipment and food down a trail to The Riverside Boulders. We got set up and let the kids get their climbs in. I went to strap into Aaron's climbing shoes, but Jennilyn recommended I use Ben's because they were a size smaller.  They were uncomfortably tight, but that's how climbing shoes are supposed to be. Then Jennilyn began to teach me basics. This is when I learned that I suck at bouldering. How was I going to get any better at it unless I kept trying though? The longer we were at it, the more hot and swollen my feet got despite taking the shoes off between sets. The canyon air got cooler and we began to be eaten alive by the rampant mosquito population. I was uncomfortable and frustrated with my slow progress. The kids were ready for a change of scenery. So we packed everything back on our bodies and headed further from the river- across the road and up a bit of a trail to what are known as the 5 Mile Boulders. We set up and played around. We set the kids to gathering firewood for a back yard s'mores fire while we picked our "problems" and took turns spotting each other. Jennilyn sent some sweet ones that I couldn't dream of completing, and did a great job of encouraging me through "warm up" routes. These are the routes that most climbers use as warm ups. They were my problems.... that's how awesome I wasn't. But I never gave up. Even though I'd felt off all day. Even though I knew something was looming and just not right. I kept trying. And I succeeded sometimes. Jennilyn and I were having a really good time, but I was also really glad when we were running out of light. The shoes were so tight. My feet were killing me. I, the barefooter, with my strong arches and proud toe splay, was supremely uncomfortable. But I strapped them back on and I went for one last send.

Jennilyn was so encouraging and I made it further up than I had before. She urged me to aim for the top, but I had an unexplained moment of being absolutely done and declared it aloud. She stood there above the crash pad with her arms in the air, the perfect spotter. I came down a little- to about 5 feet above the ground, eyed my landing spot, and hopped to the pad just as I had done plenty of times in the day. Jennilyn caught my hips and I made a perfect two-footed landing except for the explosion in my right ankle. It was blinding, mind-numbing, excruciating pain and I began to yell desperately. She couldn't understand why I was yelling or what had happened. I know for a fact that I let some profanities fly as I sank to the crash pad, sobbing. I couldn't gulp enough air to make it go away. I couldn't relay much information at all. I didn't understand anything but the pain as Jennilyn mothered me in the kind of voice you would use on frightened animal or enraged child, petting my hair and attempting to calm me. When I could form consonants again, we discussed my injury and inability to even attempt weighting it. It was swelling and oddly dislocated. I fought the instinct to hyperventilate my way into shock or unconsciousness. Jennilyn offered me some Aleve, which I eagerly and gratefully accepted as we pulled out cell phones and called out for escape options and information. She kept reassuring me that it might just be a bad sprain, but deep down I think I knew it was worse. The last light of the evening was fading. The mosquitos were feasting even more ravenously, but the irritation was lost amid the pain and my children's tearful attempts to cuddle and comfort me. My husband was many miles and thousands of vertical feet away, on foot. I felt completely incompetent to make decisions. The next emergency person I usually call is my Dad, but he and my Mom are far away in Hawaii. So I reached out to the two next most fatherly, knowledgeable men in my life, and through dropped calls and delayed texts began communicating with my two big brothers, Steve and Mike. Jennilyn had better cell reception in the canyon and took over some of that communication. She had already called her husband Ben, who by some blessed miracle had not followed through with his Idaho climbing trip and was at the top of the same canyon we were in, climbing with a friend. They came to get us and oh, so carefully fireman carried me down the trail to the cars. I remember cracking stupid jokes to try to break the mood and distract myself. I'm sure I acted like an idiot. Ben and Jason were gracious and forgiving (and strong!) angels. The three uninjured adults got the kids and gear to the cars as a plan came into order. We would take everyone to Jennilyn and Ben's house where Ben would put the kids to bed. Jennilyn would drive me to my brother Mike's chiropractic office in West Valley, where Mike would meet us for an examination and x-rays. Every jiggle or bump of the car ride was excruciating. Knowing we would beat Mike there, Jennilyn stopped to get us Slurpees. I think that Sprite Slurpee was the most refreshing thing I have ever consumed. We didn't have to wait long for Mike at his office. I opened the car door and sat helplessly, covered in dirt and chalk, trying to adjust to the fact that I couldn't move on my own, when Mike and his muscles strode over and lifted me princess style, carrying me steadily back to the x-ray room. The pictures were clear. It was definitely a talus fracture.



Mike had no experience with this. I did not want to go to the ER. I HATE the ER. He tractioned my foot as other things were obviously out of place, and Jennilyn held me as I sobbed like a baby. Then he fashioned a tape cast to get me through the night, gifted me a bottle of herbal anti-inflammatories, and sent us off with the recommendation to get in with a doc as soon as I could in the morning.
Mike,
Thank you my brother!! You are the very best. I know it wasn't easy to leave your wife and kids and new baby late at night to take loving care of your dirty, broken baby sister. I love you. Thank you so much!

Jennilyn drove me back to her house. Ben met us at the car and carried me inside. The kids were sprawled all over the futon and couch in the living room. Ben dragged a mattress into the middle of the room and they settled me in for the night with an ice pack. It was 1 am and Jennilyn had been up since 3 am, summiting mountains! She retired to her bedroom, after assuring me she would sleep with her phone just in case I needed her, because the swamp cooler was so loud, she'd never hear me otherwise.
Finally stationary and able to think a bit, I got on my phone and started texting Aaron and my parents. I had let Aaron know that I was hurt, but nothing more than that. So I gave him details as he came down Lone Peak. He was still hours from finishing, and asked if he should come get us on his way home. I told him there was no point. The kids were asleep as I was as comfy as I could get for the night. So he should just continue with the original plan until further notice. Then my in-laws called me from Russia. Yep. From Russia. They had heard I was hurt and wanted to check in. Then I texted my parents in Hawaii. Then my phone died.... just as the original Aleve wore off.  It was past 1:30 am. I tried to sleep as the minutes ticked by, but the pain was too much. I tried to get up and crawl to where pain meds might be, but even shifting the pull of gravity on my ankle made my calf charlie horse and I had to bite my thumb to keep from screaming. No adult could hear me- and I felt awful that Jennilyn had been so tired. I didn't want to wake the kids. They were dead asleep and calling out in their dreams. I had traumatized them. So I sobbed as quietly as possible, rocking and praying for strength and relief. I have given birth 4 times without pain medication (once medically induced with PIT). I'm no stranger to pain. But that pain has purpose and structure. This agony was the worst I have ever experienced. Sometime in the night, my stomach realized it hadn't eaten more than a snack since breakfast the morning before, and the aching need of ravenous hunger broke through the pain. Blessing of blessings, I looked around to find myself lying next to the cooler I had so meticulously packed the day before. I didn't have the will to dig for more than what was on top. And so I pathetically stuffed my face with cold grapes and chocolate dusted almonds as I sobbed.  When the hunger was dulled, I took to gazing out the window as I rocked, guessing at the time, willing the sun to rise and bring my relief. Around 5 am Ben's alarm went off. He had planned to go climbing again. He snoozed it, and my heart ached for 20 minutes until he got up to use the bathroom. I waited for the sounds of him emerging from his room after dressing, and when he made his appearance on his way to the kitchen, I called out to him. My voice was raw and tired from the stifled cries. He didn't hear me. I called again and again, and he carefully went about packing his food for the day. I incredulous that he could not hear me. I was both impressed and dismayed at how courteously and quietly he moved about, so as not to disturb anyone. The swamp cooler roared on as I tried desperately and unsuccessfully to get his attention. Until he walked out the back door, never knowing that I needed his help. I cried out in anguish as the door closed. It was finally enough to wake Talon and Saia. They gathered around to comfort me and I immediately sent them to the car to get my running pack where I knew I had some ibuprofen stashed. I took it gratefully and counted the seconds until it kicked in and I could drift off to sweet oblivion. I slept for about 45 minutes before the kids woke again. Jennilyn emerged from her bedroom inquiring how I felt and was horrified that I had needed her and not been able to communicate it. She went about making breakfast for the kids and we discussed whether we would still go up to the SpeedGoat finish line as we had planned. I finally requested a phone charger cord and plugged my phone in to find messages from Mike. They were disturbing messages. "I've been researching your injury and you need surgery, right now." What?? How could this be? Talk of permanent damage and immobility to the joint got my heart racing. What to do next? Where to go? I didn't even know what and who my insurance covered! I needed my husband, and at this point I had sent him a car ride, tram ride, and hike away to the top of yet another mountain, with a commitment to aid racers and no way to get back to me for many hours. The gravity of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks, and the tears that I'd thought I was all out of returned with a vengeance. As I ugly-cried, Jennilyn put her arm around me and started talking sense. We'd call an orthopedic surgery clinic. They would know what insurance they accepted. We started calling only to find that none of them were open on a Saturday. The ugly cry took over again and Alicia, my bestie, by get-things-done girl, called me. I sobbed on the phone to her. She responded with, "Stay there, I'm coming." And hung up.

While I waited for Alicia, Jennilyn moved me into her bedroom where the rowdy kids would not accidentally land on me. This was no small feat, because Jennilyn is not a large body. I feel like a giant in comparison, really. My big brother Steve and his wife Natalie showed up from Heber City with crutches for me. Craig- a good friend and one of the founders of our incredible trail running community, showed up with an all too generous care package from my favorite boys at TAUR. A gift that made my jaw drop. These early acts of care and kindness will live in my heart forever. I have the best of the best in my life and I am so so grateful! They laughed and talked with me for a while- a welcome distraction. Then Alicia came, packed the kids and our stuff up and took me off Jennilyn's hands.

Jennilyn,
I can never thank you enough for being there for me. For having the patience to teach me in the first place. For holding me in my time of need. For keeping it together when I couldn't. For understanding what my broken heart needed to survive and heal in the weeks to come. You are a true friend, and a hero to me for far more than your copious running and mountaineering talents. I will love you forever. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, sweet friend.

Alicia shuttled the kids to her mom's house in Murray, where their cousin was waiting to play with them in the big yard. Normal kid things that they needed to distract them from the trauma of the previous day. Then she took me to the local Instacare. "Stay here." She said as she got out of the car. I exhaustedly obliged. When she got inside, she pulled out her phone and showed the man at the desk a picture of my x-ray, then stated, "My sister in law broke her talus. Is this where we need to be?" Another blessing: The orthopedic specialist was just about to leave and agreed to take a look at the picture. "She destroyed that bone!" He exclaimed. "She needs surgery, you need take her to the ER."
And without having even left the van, I was off to the IHC Emergency Room.

I'll spare you the detailed account of 6 hours of waiting with Alicia and her baby, being shuffled from room to room, forgotten in the hallway outside the CAT scan room, and eventually casted, scheduled for a Monday surgery, and given a prescription for narcotics. Going to pick up the prescription and having to crutch into the local Walgreens only to find the pharmacy had closed, and after a moment of panic, finding they had left my prescription at the front counter.

As we drove back to "Grandma Darcy's" house, we got a call that Saia was not feeling well. We returned to the house, and were settled into a dark, cool basement bedroom haven. It was late afternoon by then. My kids crawled into bed with me and I realized that all but one of them was fevered, covered in mosquito bites, and unwell. We gave them medicine and essential oils and put them to sleep. We got word that Matt and Aaron were finally on their way home, and would get our van from Jennilyn's and come get us. Aaron had not slept for days. He joined us in the bedroom, kissed me, curled up on the floor and we all slept. 30 minutes later, we packed up the van, and with Matt and Alicia's help, headed home. Home. It felt like we'd been gone for a week. Nothing sounded like more of a relief than my own bed. My own space. My own family.

Alicia,
 Thank you doesn't cut it.  You are my soul sister. You are my rock in times of need. My rescuer, my best friend. I love you more than if you were a part of me.  Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Darcy,
 Thank you so much for providing a haven for my children. No questions asked, no hesitation. You were there for us and I am so grateful. I am honored to call you family. Thank you.

To be continued.....
(Coming up: Surgery)

Barkley Training (No not really!)

Another Wednesday, another trail adventure with Katie. I seriously love this chick. Some friendships build in time. Ours is building on dirt, sweat, and loads of adventure. Today's was a doozy!
We had both run on roads earlier in the week and wanted some up... again... always. The conversation went a little like this:
Me: Where do you want to go?
Katie: I don't care. I feel like I always do East Kaysville.
Me: Have you done Hell Hole?
K: Nope.
Me: Okay. We'll do Hell Hole.

So we met at the retention pond at Davis Creek, and it wasn't until I pushed the start button on my naked wrist that I realized I'd forgotten my watch. Ah! It's like this run didn't happen already! It didn't really matter. I'm not fast and I'm not pushing any records or anything. I just like numbers. I like to know how far and how high I've gone. Katie has assured me that she will email me her .gpx file... if she can figure out how. Until then, my Strava account thinks I'm lazy.
If you've never hiked or run Davis Creek, know that it starts by going up... and then goes up some more, and then a little more up, and up even more. The first time we explored the Hell Hole trail, I thought I was going to fall backward off the face of the mountain and I was gripping the grasses and weeds as we climbed. It makes me laugh to think back on that. I've done it so many times now. I still have to hike most of it, but I assure you, there is no more dependency on shrubbery.
So I started by showing Katie the Indian Baths. This little hidden gem is a fun little shimmy along the rock face along side the downward course of the waterfall, up to the base of the falls to a little basin- a "bath".

I should mention that laughter was the theme of the day. And that's a good thing.

Again- the first time I thought I was cheating death. Not so much anymore. Still, I'm careful to check and see what my trail buddies are comfy with before charging in. I learned well from the one time I took a friend up the cliffs to see some pictographs and didn't know she was afraid of heights. Oops.
Katie has no such issues. She's a nonchalant bad*ss.

Katie being a nonchalant bad*ss.

.....except when it comes to snakes. Then she's an darlingly skittish little pansy. We came across a little guy (no rattle) sleeping in the middle of the trail just about the split off to Hell Hole. I stopped in my tracks. The local trail running community has been put on their guard about rattlers lately and we're all a touch paranoid. The moment I stopped to observe our slithery friend's lack of rattle, Katie gasped and began doing an adorable little 'grossed out' dance behind me. I tossed a few twigs and stomped a few times to try to get him to move along and he didn't even twitch. It took us a bit to find a good sized stick to nudge him with, and still the only response we got was just a slight twitch of his head. That's when I noticed that the coloring in his body was slowly changing as he began to move a little. He wasn't warm enough to move! I gently nudged him toward the side of the trail and eventually he got enough circulation to move along. I brought the snake nudging stick along for good measure and continued up with Katie exclaiming, "You're like Steve Irwin!" Did I mention I love her? Because I do. The grasses had grown tall around the trail and there was an abundance of overgrowth to make our way through. Up, up, and more up. I think I probably made at least a thousand spiders homeless today... with my face. Such are vegetated trails in the summer! We found flat enough ground to run again and shot through the tinderbox that was Christmas Tree Lane. This is where the lid flew off and the real adventures began.
You would think that I'd been up there enough times to find the right turn off, but summer over-growth got me all befuddled and we ended up bushwhacking in circles for quite some time. Oh, don't you fret, we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves.

A wild Katie in her natural habitat.

In hindsight, I think we just didn't go up high enough to find the right trail turn off, so I had the brilliant idea to go lower and bushwhack our way up the creek bed to the waterfall. Um. That was not brilliant. Katie was totally game. We charged right in and before we knew it, we stood with soaked feet, covered in spiderwebs and surrounded by greenery and so many branches that we ended up climbing trees half the time. It looked kinda like this:
Er.. exactly like this.
I was mostly game to move forward, but I kept apologizing to Katie and she kept laughing at me and saying, "I love this! This is my favorite! Let's keep going!" So we did. We got wet, we climbed trees and embankments and rocks, we put giant spiders out of their webs (which I'm sure are re-built by now). And eventually, we found the actual trail (which was still pretty overgrown) and with a triumphant "whoop!", the waterfall.
Katie immediately declared it worth the trouble and climbed up into it.

I joined her forthwith.

It seemed slightly anticlimactic to take a couple of pictures and leave. I kind wished I'd had a picnic to spread out and enjoy after all that time and work. But we hit the trail again and I came out smacking my forehead at how I had missed it to begin with. We took the loop up and over to Pretty Valley, and chatting happily and finally running again, wound our way down the familiar trail to Cannon Flat and back around to the cars.
I don't have the exacts yet, but I think it took us almost 2 hours to do about 4 miles. It makes me chuckle, because that was so. much. fun.
*Update*
Our girl came through.
3.8 miles
1,690 ft of vert
16:55 average pace

Hello Monday. We meet again.

I've had a realization in the past few weeks.
Monday is pivotal.
Monday morning comes far too early. Often when the alarm sings, it is silenced and ignored. But if I don't make it out running on Monday, I hate myself all week long. I feel behind. On the other hand if I do get out, even for a little bit, I win. My whole week feels more productive and validated, all because of a Monday run.
So I met today with the mental gravity that the Monday dilemma deserves. Did I silence my alarm? Yes. Yes I did. But did I reset it for an hour later? YES I DID. And I got up, and went out, and actually almost ran fast!
4.14 Miles
9:51 average pace!
Woot!

I declared victory on Monday before 8:00 in the morning. Then I showered, dressed, made breakfast, gathered, sorted and started laundry, packed lunches, and sent the kids off to their cousins house. I drove my niece to Provo with no AC in the car, got her checked in at EFY and settled in her dorm room. After that, I drove to West Valley where my amazing, darling, handsome, fit, generous, talented, genius chiropractor brother (I buttered him up to get him to see me on his lunch break) x-rayed my elbow and adjusted my poor, beaten body. It's been a rather unpleasant weekend on the pain scale, so I figured I should get things checked out. Since I depend on my body for my livelihood and sanity, and all that jazz. Turns out I not only have some gnarly bruising- which is also visible on the bone, but bit of slight stress fracture and maybe a little chipping. Drat. I've been advised to stay off of it for at least 3 weeks. We'll see how good I am at teaching yoga classes without demonstrating any vinyasa portions. No downward dog for me... or upward dog, cobra, chaturanga, hand and forearms stands, arm balances, etc.... Double drat. The good news is, Mike was able to put me back together for the most part, and the stress fracture is the worst of it.
If anyone needs a good chiropractor, I know a LOT of them. :)

Let's go up again.

My last adventure with Katie was so magically happy and beautiful, that I couldn't wait to do it again. Aaron suggested we plan it for Saturday. Katie and her favorite Chris were very much on board! We met at the pond at 9am, piled in Aaron's car and made the always-death-defying drive up Farmington Canyon to the gates. I had been slightly concerned about the climbing temperatures, but figured we'd just have to deal with them. This time we went left. I was still slow (what's new?), but I was pleasantly surprised that my injuries weren't complaining too much- just a little throb here and there. Katie humored my easy pace as we climbed and the fellas waited for us now and again so we could stick mostly together. It's amazing how much closer Gold Ridge's first false summit is when you go the right way! It turns out, Gold Ridge has about 4 false summits. Each is stunningly beautiful with views for miles, and the climb to each a little bit steeper than the last. We spent plenty of time taking pictures and goofing around at each. As we stood on the summit of Gold Ridge, an eagle (or some other majestic bird of prey) thought fit to soar around us just below the ridge and say hello. It was such a happy morning! The temperatures were actually really nice up high. We decided to make a loop of it and made the descent south toward the Bountiful campground side of things. The wildlife didn't disappoint. Plenty of adorable rodents, a magical young buck that leapt across our path, glowing in the warm morning sunlight, and at one point I think we may have smelled a bear... or it's scat.... either way, we ran faster. By about 6 miles in, my right knee and left hip began to twinge in protest, and my elbow and shoulder began to throb a bit uncomfortably. It was nothing I couldn't work through, but the others humored me with plenty of walk/hike breaks. The company was so very awesome that it caught me by surprise to be coming around the bend to the car.
8.6 miles
1716 ft of vert
14:39 average pace

Let's go up

On Tuesday nights I teach a Beginner's Yoga class in my darling friend's living room. It is small. Sometimes there are only 3 of us. Usually I can get 3 or 4 students. This week I had 5. It was a happy, sweaty, shaky and calming practice. I had run Monday and Tuesday mornings and yoga felt amazing. I felt like maybe I could look forward to a rest day the next morning. Mother Nature had delivered her monthly gut punch. I was tired. Rest would be nice. I bid my students (my friends) farewell after class as they trickled out of friendly conversation and out the door. My new running friend Katie paused at the doorway to inquire how my 50k training was going. "Are you running tomorrow?" She asked with a hopeful look on her face. She was in a running funk. Boy do I know how that goes! So I agreed to text her in the morning and we'd run out of our funks together.
I slept in the next morning. We hadn't set a time and the sleep felt good. I was indecisive on where we would run and I knew Katie didn't much care. After some texting back and forth (We could do Ed's Peak? Ack. Too much vert for today.) we decided on location. I had been wanting to get high. I'd been wanting to explore the route to Gold's Ridge and didn't dare do it alone. Perfect. I fed the kids and left them with instructions to finish their chores and met her at the pond parking at 10:30. The drive up Farmington Canyon Road is slightly terrifying. Katie handled it like a pro. We fell into easy conversation as we made our way up, up, up past campers and ATVs, slowing for a pretty deer fawn whose natural bounding skills we envied aloud as she frolicked up the mountainside. We parked and the gate and went right. I hadn't paid enough attention to realize we were going the long way to Gold's, but the scenery was so lovely, I have no regrets. Within the first few yards I warned Katie that this would be a slow day. She waved off my warning with, "It's just good to be in the mountains." And it was.
Our conversation wandered with us. From jokes, to stories, to history and cooking instructions. We laughed and wondered our way through fields of yellow flowers, the towering trees silently watching us on our way. Katie has great stories. The miles just slipped on by until we reached a steep rocky incline and headed up to where we knew the views were. Aaron had warned me of a false summit. This was it. In the distance I could see the winding trail to Gold's Ridge Peak. False or not, good heavens it was gorgeous!
(photo by Katie Weller)
We took abundant trailfies (trail selfies) and mountaintop trail yoga pictures. Just then I got a call. My littles were Facetiming me. This is supposed to be an emergency measure, but they were just getting restless to play with friends. I guess we had been out longer than I'd planned. We were at mile 4.25. I hadn't really planned on an 8-9 mile run today and my kids' calls were taking a nip out of my wondrous communion with nature. So I drank in the view for a minute more, took a moment to gaze longingly at the rocky peak in the distance, turned my back to it, and continued back the way we had come.
As we picked our way, quick-footed down the rocky trail, our storytelling turned in the direction of "this one time I turfed it..." We told of how we got our scars and big feet that always seemed to be our down fall. This spiraled into other scar stories (Did I mention Katie tells GREAT stories?) as we let gravity have it's way down the easier surface of the ATV trail. And then wouldn't you know, I caught a toe and took flight. A moment of slow motion, quiet hang time and then spiraling impact. Right knee, left thigh, left shoulder blade and elbow? What? When I skidded to a halt, somehow now on my right side, I wanted to say something clever. To assure Katie I was alright. I was tough. I'd pop right back up. Or not. My body had other plans. I'd turfed before, but this one hurt more... more deeply. I could hardly breathe. Start there. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I laid there for a few seconds as Katie calmly came to my side asking if anything was broken. Making my way to a seated position and cradling an arm I couldn't get to respond I answered, "I don't know yet."
"Okay." She responded, plopping down in the dirt beside me. Gosh, I love this girl.
Breathe.
"Well, crap." I exclaimed, "That sucked."
Katie just laughed, brushed some dirt off my shoulder, snagged my water bottle out of my Hydraquiver and handed it to me.
"That was a pretty good one! I'd give it a solid 9."
I smiled, "I'll have to work on my form and technique for next time."
As the initial shock subsided, I began a slow inventory. Mentally cataloging what was bleeding, what still worked. I wasn't sure if my arm was broken or if I'd just had the worst "funny bone" tap of my life. Eventually nerve signals began to get through again and I could at least move my hand, although shakily.
"I don't think I've critically injured any body parts that I need to get me off of this mountain."
Katie chuckled a little, "Well that's good. We'll just walk it off."
We made our way along slowly. Running when I felt like it, Katie letting me set the pace. Stopping at a creek crossing the clear away blood and dirt. The bloodthirsty deer flies had caught scent of my injuries and they accompanied us across the terrain, hunting me like the wounded animal I was. Darn flies.
Katie continued to distract me beautifully with more of her tales, and the next thing I knew, there was the car.

That's one thing I love about this sport; It doesn't take years to become friends. Just shared passion for the terrain, shared experience, the rawness and vulnerability that comes with placing yourself in such a present and real situation, and the willingness to open up and give someone the shirt off your back- or in this case, the emergency toilet paper from your pack.
When I got home to assess my injuries, I wondered how on earth I could have rolled in such a way as to procure such varied wounds. I think I'd have paid money to see slow motion video of that. Maybe in the next life.


I have no regrets about Wednesday's run. It was just what I needed. But as I type this, Aaron is descending Timpanogos with dozens of our Wasatch Mountain Wrangler friends, and I'm not with them. My deeply bruised quad and knee made sure of that. I'm a little sad to have missed out on the fun, but I think it will be rested and healed enough to go back up and take the missed Gold Ridge summit with Aaron on Saturday. Here's hoping anyway. I may still have to get my elbow checked out. It's kind of misshapen and still pretty tender.
Battle wounds.
It's all part of the game!
8.5 Miles
1181 feet of vert
14:23 Average pace

Cut and bruised right palm, 2 bruised knees, bruised and scraped left upper quad, scraped and bruised left shoulder blade, scraped and very bruised partially misshapen left elbow, sore left ribs, hip and side, slightly bruised ego.

Feeling good

I've been moody as all get out lately, so it feels good to be able to simply say:
I got up, I went out, I ran well, I smiled a lot, I danced through sprinklers, and I feel good!
Sure my hips and thighs were a little tight and sore from my mountain run less than 24 hours prior, but that's what we're going for here, right?

I really really REALLY want to run Timp with the Wranglers on Thursday night, so I am praying my body cooperates for not only an awesome long run, but a summit run too!

5.2 miles
111 ft vert(ha!)
10:41 average pace