Memories from the Trip to Canada

It's already been a month since my return from Canada. But, I think back to that glorious snow every day.

The gods dropped over a foot of it on us the night I arrived.

Dax remains undeterred.

Before my adventure sidekick and I can go skiing, we must first find the driveway.

Might be -10, but throwing snow up onto the already 7 foot high snowbanks is great cardio.
The snowblower master:

Finally, we escape to the trails.

Chuck's first time on skis in years and both of them their first time skijoring.  A+.

Crashed out after all that fresh air.

Slowly taking over every inch of my mother's house with doggy apparel.

Peter refuses to engage with the white stuff and holds the fort down.

Dax begs to go back out.

"Please, Grandpa, let's go snowshoeing some more."

Burning up the trails.

Chester is well mannered, Dax, not so much.

When he knocks me off my feet, he's irked that I've slowed us down!!!

Unfortunately, it only takes him an hour each time to refuel before Dax is ready to roll again.

Chuck and I fell in love with Larose Forest.

So much so, we returned twice.

Snowshoeing, skiing and mushing trails.

Dax's environment.

And mine.  Where I could stay all day.

Helps to have a stepdad who's a Scandinavian Energizer Bunny.

He keeps going and going...

Meeting a Legend

Friday night, I arrive to a birthday party held in an event room in an old renovated bank.  Quite a few people are in attendance and I find one empty seat at a table.  I strike up a conversation with my neighbor:

He looks awfully familiar, but with the din of the room, I miss his name and where he works, but we quickly got onto the topic of running with our dogs.  Two hours fly past and only halfway through does it hit me like a ton of bricks who he is.

John has run all the major ultra marathons in America.  Badwater 135 (miles) though Death Valley.

Leadville 100 at 14,000 ft elevation.

Not only did he run in the impossible Barkley, but he was in the documentary movie that I have now watched at least 5 times.  Most years, no one even finishes, it is that grueling.  Over 130 miles through the woods, trails a luxury.  You run by compass, day and night, for 60 hours or until you collapse or get irretrievably lost.  
Running this race was my most important goal for me for years.  I lived and breathed for running.

Vacations were to run, mountains my drug.

 Training day in, day out, for years, me and Cole averaged over 90 miles a week. Tens of thousands of miles with the Colemeister.  Best decade of my life screeched to a crawl when Cole was diagnosed with cancer and my cardiologist told me marathon running would kill me.  Giving it up was worse than death.  Seems like a lifetime ago.
Until you meet the man who owned the running store that organized eclectic short trail races in your town.

Going through my trophy shelf, I find my big Dog Running trophies and marvel at how small the world is and how fortunate I am to get to share time with inspirational people.

Dean Karnazes presented me with an award for a trail marathon in 2013.  The Marathon Man whose book inspired me to do ultras:

Life gives you what you need, then if you're really lucky, She puts amazing people in your path when you're lacking courage, vision, determination, passion, or all of the above.
Driving home, I didn't see the road, it was me and Cole in Hovenweep, NM, running like nothing else in the world mattered but where we put our feet.

I got to spend 2 hours with a legend tonight.  God, life is good.  

Running Away

On February 10th, the clan and I left covertly in the night.  We made our way North, very North.  

We returned 10 days later, but it has taken me this long to recover and catch up at work to be able to tell you about it.

A few weeks before, the preparations began in earnest.
All dogs had enough clothes for a polar expedition.

You can never be too prepared.

No frost bitten ears on my watch.

The journey was 1300 miles.

With 4 dogs.  Patient dogs.

The plan was to do it in 2 days, sleeping one night in the car (find me a motel that accepts 300 lbs of fur).

Plotted along the journey, every 4 hours or so, were parks for us to ramble and stretch.

Avoiding the expensive and unhealthy roadside foods, I packed my own travel food and coffee maker. 

No bitter Starbucks coffee for me, this is my own home roasted blend.

Plans changed when a Winter storm nipped at our heels from Virginia to the border.  

White out conditions, tractor trailers parked all along the sides of the interstate, blocking off ramps.  40 mph hour top speed through Pennsylvania in the night. I had snow tires, so I plugged on through the night.

36 hours straight in in the car, but I made it before they closed the interstate in PA!!!

Perseverance pays off, highways empty and clear driving in NY.

Homeward bound:  International Bridge.
Exhausted, yet elated, we weary travelers arrive at my mother's house in Quebec.

3 feet of snow keeps you know who from taking off!

Stuck in snowbank, I think it's at this point Garrett made up his mind to spend the remainder of his vacation indoors.

My stepdad had spent days compacting the over 1 mile snowshoeing trail so the dogs could enjoy it too.  

Imprisoned in the car for too long, we fought the need to go inside.

But Dax's feet were getting cold, so we broke out the Winter gear!

Party on, Garth!

Bucket Listing In Your Own Backyard

Funny how we search far afield when some of the best things are right under our noses.

I crossed the mighty Chattahoochee River and embarked upon a journey through the National Civil War Naval Museum in Columbus, Georgia.  I've known of it for 25 years and finally visited.

Since living in the Deep South, I've tried to educate myself about the Civil War through readings and visiting important battlegrounds across the Southeast. Until now, I never knew the extent of the navy's role in the war.  This river warship was active up and down the Chattahoochee. 
I'd read about some of the coastal battles, but was completely ignorant of the epic battles across the oceans.
The most notorious of high sea raiders was the CSS Alabama.  The raiders' job was to try to disrupt trade, forcing the Union to abandon their navy blockade along the Southern coastline.  The general effort failed, the blockade never broke its stranglehold on the Confederacy.  The little engine that could proved to be the Alabama. During its 534 days at sea she had boarded 450 vessels, captured or burned 65 Union ships from Brazil to France.  One plucky little pirate ship!!!

160 years old and still frightening.
So is a prehistoric naval mine.

The CSS Chattahoochee, once sunken in its namesake river, is now on display in the museum. 

They need to be more diligent with the WD-40, it's a little seized up.

The Herculean work and innovation that went into building these behemoth iron-clad gunboats is mind blowing.  
WHY did I wait 25 years to see this??? 

Certifiably stupid is my best guess.
Tip of the hat to the museum shop staff for turning a blind eye to the dork playing with all their costumes.

Never Ever, Under Any Circumstance, Give Up

I fight. "It's what you're good at", my best friend told me yesterday. 

Dammit do I ever get tired of it sometimes, better than the other option: quitting.  I've made a choice to cease watching disease and age in the rear view mirror creeping up on me. Time is too precious, I'm focusing my sights ahead, I'm going to beat the clock. 
For over a month, I've been piddling around with a few weights on my back porch.  Plus, I LOVED and gained knowledge from my sugar free month.  Sure, I've had chocolate and some of my own cakes since the challenge ended, but I'm still not putting sugar in my coffee, honey in my tea or jam on my peanut butter toast.  I'm committed to making this a permanent change.  The sustained energy I have now is like a drug.
To treat myself, I joined a gym.  $20 a month, no contract, located in this guy's backyard.

Quiet, all the free weights I could want, open 24 hours, I have the place to myself late in the evenings.  So what if there's a jet ski parked next to the squat rack and there's a general overuse of Duck Tape for repairs.

I love my little hole in the wall hideaway.

Also quite smitten with my other tool at combating decrepitude:  Cross Fit gym in Columbus.

 MMA fighter gives Muay Thai lessons in the evenings.  This is boxing on steroids.  Tonight, I was the only student.  A one hour private lesson with all the accoutrements of defensive gear so I could learn to give and take body shots, kicks and my new favorite: elbow strikes.  

Was I whining that I was getting tired of fighting??? I hope you weren't paying attention, because I'm already over it.  I love to fight, it's what I do.

You can't pick and choose when and where struggle and strife will meet you, best bet is to stay amped up and ready to enjoy a good brawl.

To heighten preparedness, Dax is my cardio coach. Which means I eat dirt on a semi regular basis.  We try to get out every day for 5 mi run or bike rides form hell, currently averaging 5 days a week, but aiming for 7.

Life ain't for sissies, strap on a helmet and get out there and grab it by the horns.  It's the F@#! best high out there.