One Hundred and Twenty

It's taken me years, but I have finally done a thing.

Well, actually rather a lot of things..

This past weekend represented the final two days of the 100 runs in 100 days challenge. It started with the usual run to the market, which was UNusual for its lack of ice. The top photo is the spot that was washed out last weekend, and the section pictured below was fully covered by plate ice.

Whole lot of visible crushed gravel now, though not without icy patches

The freezing temperatures overnight had turned the footprinted mud from the thaw into a potential ankle-wrecking mess, but me and my I-don't-really-need-these screw shoes managed ok. All of the ice was soft and rotten on top from the sunshine, and traction would have probably been fine in road running shoes...though I probably wouldn't have gone through the singletrack along the river in those.

And would have missed the remaining giant chunks of ice along the banks.
Trail was totally clear, though!

After some brunch and stuff around the house, I headed out to Puslinch Tract with the idea I'd get 2-2.5hrs in on the trails there. Since all the ice I'd seen was soft and rotted, and the temperature had climbed from -7c up to a balmy 4c, I figured there was no need for spikes. I grabbed a single trekking pole just in case, then hit the ground running.

This is what I expected.

Very soon, however, I realised the folly of my choices. The north side of Puslinch Tract - in the pine trees - was almost all hard, slick ice on which I couldn't get a bit of traction. I skidded and penguin-shuffled my way along, hoping that it would improve..

Spoiler: it did not.

I figured if I could get to the hardwoods toward the east and south, I might find some runnable trail. With a whole lot of slipping, quick feet, and catching myself on trees to keep from falling on petrifying descents of the little rises and drops, I finally found some snow-covered trail I could run.

Or at least hike confidently.

WHEEEEEE

The sunshine was lovely, but some of the sections that looked like snow with decent traction turned out to have melted and re-frozen hard enough that my trail shoes couldn't get a grip.

Is it safe? Or will I die? The only way to find out is to go for it..

To complicate matters even further, the melt had left many sections of the hardwood trails covered in deep, loose mud that actually managed to be even more slippery than the ice. 

You can see a giant squelchy footprint of mine near the bottom of this pic.

This is when I finally made the decision I'd been toying with for some time. This wasn't a trail run - it was more of a trail AAAAGH, and there was no way I wanted to spend another hour or more, particularly after dark. I messaged Tanker, who was out hiking in his microspikes but STILL sliding around in the loose mud, and told him my plan.

Turns out he was just fine with this plan, and actually happy I seemed to have grown some sense.

Out I traipsed, somehow managing to stay upright and enjoying the setting sun.

It may have been terrifying, but it sure was beautiful.

We'd planned to go to the grocery store after I finished running for the day, but instead of running road (in trail shoes) to get there I decided we'd just head to the store and then home. That would mean over an hour would have elapsed by the time I went out for another run, so it would count as an extra for the 100 in 100 challenge - my second triple run day!

I did a little more than the minimum, then while looking through social media I saw that a friend had been out at Eramosa Karst and the photo looked like bare, dry ground. When I asked about conditions she said there were a couple of puddles in the meadow, but otherwise good. This called for a road trip!

First up on Sunday was a quick trot around the neighbourhood while apple crisp baked for brunch - if you've never done this, let me rhapsodize for just a moment about magnificent it is to come home from a run to your house smelling of hot, delicious apples, cinnamon and brown sugar.

And then you get to eat it!

After brunch we packed up and headed down to the Karst, where I discovered that what Patty meant was that the entire meadow had been engulfed by a couple of enormous puddles.

Squelchy.

The weather was lovely, though - windy, but pleasant in shorts and a longsleeve shirt - so I didn't mind getting soaked. I swear I'm going to start hiring myself out as a diviner: it seems like lately anyone who wants to find water just has to follow me on a trail run.

Yep, think you're good here.

The trails in the woods were in fantastic condition, though, and I was having fun in the sunshine!

WHEEEEEEE

With the aid of some improved (but still incomplete) maps, I was even able to start checking out some of the features of the Karst...now that they weren't under cover of darkness, or ice and snow.

Found Potruff Cave!

A spring in the meadow

The Nexus Cave extrance

Some of the features were impressively muddy in their immediate vicinity, sometimes requiring me to hoist myself in or out by clinging to saplings.

The slippery way down to Stewart Creek

I stayed on my feet, though, and decided I'd finished it off by heading down below "the amphitheatre" to check out Potruff Spring.

It's probably lovelier in the summer, but was quite peaceful and tranquil despite the lack of foliage

After running back up and out (there's a sharp little hill), I took the only really technical trail in the park to get back to the main loop and out.

And nearly fell when I discovered it was all soft, side-sloped mud!

Down to a walk for safety's sake, I paused at the bottom to check out the impressively mossy rock formations. 

Worth the trip down

Then hiked my butt back up and out, after having covered almost every single trail in the park.

Which is only really about 7km, including some of the entrances from various roads.

That was my final run for the challenge, and my triple the day beforehand brought me to a nice, round 120 runs in 100 days.

Also: top 20 overall, and (as far as I can tell) top female.
The final leaderboard is here.

You'd think I'd have taken Monday off or something, but it was sunny all week so I've run each day since. I wasn't going to last night - I figured I'd give my legs their first 2-day break since Dec 7th by just swimming instead - but it was 10c and there was still daylight when we got home from work and errands, and I had time before I needed to leave for the pool. So, a quick 5k happened.

My 120 runs includes 13 Fridays off (I did run one Friday during the challenge), 2 triple run days, and a double on almost every day I didn't work (plus at least one day that I ran on my lunch, then again after work). I ran through 3 ice storms, a polar vortex, one of the snowiest winters in recent years, some absolutely ridiculous wind, and probably the worst month of my entire life personally, followed closely by the second worst. I ran on legs sore from a 6-hour track ultra, a 3-hour winter trail race, and two snowshoe races. There were also sunny days, though, and 2 days where I ran in shorts.

While not the easiest thing in the world, I can't say that the challenge was really all that difficult for me. I've come to know that the second run of the day usually feels easier than the first, and rely heavily on that knowledge to get me out the door. Running the day after a tough race sure didn't feel awesome, but eventually my stiff, uncooperative legs would get the idea.

It was sometimes a matter of "just put your head down and go".

While my mileage was nothing particularly special - I did almost 90km more than the 832km I ran for this year's challenge in just 90 runs in 2016/2017 - it does represent the largest block of training by far that I've done since I wrecked up my ankle 13.5 months ago. 

How big, exactly? Well, from Feb 11th (the date of my snowboard crash) to December 15th, I had only done one week of training in which I ran more than 50km - there were 3 other weeks in which I ran 50+km, but they included races of 40km and up. Since December 15th, I've only had 2 weeks in which I ran less than 50k...one of which was 49km, and the other only included the first 2 days of the challenge.

The top row is the week ending December 16th

I'm immensely grateful that my body has allowed me to do this much work in the past 3 months - I sure hope the ankle and legs are on board for some more ambitious adventures this year!

I'm also incredibly grateful for this guy, who has been wonderfully patient with my "need" to run up to 5 times per weekend and has supported me every step of the way.

I couldn't have done it without him!

Risky Business

There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and I'm not sure whether or not I crossed it this past weekend.

We'll let you be the judge.

It all started Saturday morning with an icy run down to the market - I needed my screw shoes before I even left our neighbourhood, as the meltwater on the sidewalks had frozen up overnight. That, however, was less of an issue than the Grand River having jumped its banks due to the thaw. I got a little less than 3km from home - and less than 100m in on the Blair Trail - when I was confronted with this:

Yikes.

Not wanting to get my feet wet above the ankles, I picked my way around the only way I could: on the icy rocks between the giant washout puddle and the raging current of the river.

And of course I stop to take a bloody photo.

Fortunately I made it through safely, but this was only the start of my questionable decisions for the day.

One obstacle down - how many to go?

The rest of the trail was a solid sheet of ice - last week's rain had saturated the snowpack, then the sub-freezing temperatures had hardened it all up.

Screw shoes or spikes required if you want to stay upright.

Having survived despite a couple of slips (thankfully no falls) even in my screw shoes, I had to think carefully about what I wanted to do for my second run. I wanted to get 10 miles or 2 hours in, and seriously considered heading out for a road run just due to the icy nature of the trails. The powerful gusting wind made me want to hide in the trees, though, so somehow I came up with the bright idea to throw on my microspikes and hit Hilton Falls.

Not content to deal with the ice-covered main trails in the park, I started out basically doing The Beav course on the Philip Gosling Side Trail off the Bruce Trail.

'Cause I'm smart like that.

Fortunately my spikes were quite confidence-inspiring on the icy, side-sloping trails and I made decent time. Then things went a little sideways when I came upon this:

Again I say: yikes.

I could either turn back and head up the main trails into the park, or I could hope that either a) the crust of ice on top would hold my (not insignificant) weight, or b) the water below wouldn't be too deep.

The answer was c) none of the above.

With soaking feet, ankles and even calves in the just-above-freezing air, I was sincerely grateful I wore good wool socks and even wooly tights as I pressed onward - my feet barely even got cold, and warmed up almost immediately as my shoes drained.

My next questionable decision was continuing to follow The Beav course by taking the very technical Hilton Falls Side Trail instead of the wide, groomed Red Oak Trail to head toward the falls.

To make it even better, I stopped to take this photo of the stream that falls into the reservoir...and stepped a little too close to the edge. The shelf of ice below my foot broke, and I was lucky it was only about an inch above solid ground and kept my foot out of the water.

Nearly sogfooted again.

Then I just had to pick my way through the broken rocks, caves and fissures while trucking along the edge of a cliff.

Covered in ice and snow.

There are a couple of places where you have to cross over narrow crevasses on the trail, and you'd have to be some kind of idiot to stop and take a selfie while doing so.

Yep.

Particularly while standing on a rather small, rather icy rock that acts as a bridge.

Like this one here.

Without falling to my death - or at least serious injury - I made it through and onto the park trails proper.

Still icy, but much less treacherous.

..and then diverged from their relative safety to pick my way along the edge of another rocky, icy cliff.

Above the river into which the falls spill.

Despite moving more quickly than I probably should have on such terrain (given my inherent clumsiness), I arrived at Hilton Falls itself shortly after Tanker - he'd hiked in directly on the park trails from the parking lot, and had even got a bit of a fire going up above.

That's my honey <3

I took the staircase down to see the falls in all their impressive, icy beauty.

The sound was incredible!

Then it was back along my merry way under blue skies. I'd only covered about 5km out of the 16 I wanted, and had been out for 45mins already.

Still not sticking to the main trails, though.

That might become an issue, as I hadn't started until just before 5pm. With the park technically closing at 7pm and sunset less than half an hour after that, I needed to boogie.

And boogieing on this is not really possible for one of my paltry athleticism.

I planned to do the Beaver Dam trail loop then head back out, and decided I'd go clockwise as I recalled the west side was a little more technical - I wanted to get it done while I was as fresh as possible, then cruise the wide-open trails back out. Things came to a bit of a halt when I ran into this, less than halfway up the west side.

Now that's inconvenient.

The water was clearly flowing quite strongly from left to right, and I could see that at least the first section was icy underneath. I was all alone, almost as far as it was possible to get from Tanker and our car, and didn't know how deep it would be. Did I turn back and take another route to get the mileage in?

With a deep breath, I decided to give it a whack. My spikes gave reassuring grip on the spongy, rotten ice below the water flow as the water came up to my ankles. As I passed into the deeper portion, I was able to get decent traction on the chain link-covered rock below the icy flow. The water was a powerful force as it came up to shin level, and I'd have turned around immediately if it had got anywhere close to knee deep - without a trekking pole to help stabilize I was in danger of being washed away.

So I waited until a shallower bit to take a selfie.
'Cause I'm smart.

Whether it was the longer crossing, the accumulated fatigue, or the fading day, I'm not sure - all I know is that this time my feet did get quite chilled this time. I tried to hustle as best I could, now sticking almost exclusively to the main, groomed trails as I made my way toward the exit. I hadn't brought a headlamp - just another one of my questionable decisions for the day. At least I had my emergency kit with me!

The view of Kelso is always impressive from the trails leading to the parking lot.

With a bit of luck and a lot of work, I was able to get 10 miles done in almost exactly 2hrs of moving time (a bit less than 2.5hrs total) and was back at the car with Tanker just as the sun dropped below the horizon.

Phew!

So now I'm torn between feeling a bit proud of myself for not being a weenie - having escaped with only some chilly toes and a small chunk taken out of my shin by the ice at the first water crossing - and like a damn fool for taking risks that could have left me in dire condition. I certainly would never recommend that anyone else attempt the same; not alone, on a cold, windy day. I was very lucky to have come out unharmed, but can't help but feel like these experiences will be something to draw on the next time I encounter something a bit scary on the trails. There's a certain power in knowing that you can overcome challenges by not backing down - I just hope I never regret taking the chance.

I'd like to make it home to my sweetheart, and I'm pretty sure he'd like that, too.

Wishing you all safe adventures as winter begins to wind down - if you can't be good, at least be careful!