Flying solo

..or at least walking.

Radio silence on the blog last week because I'd gone walkabout on Friday.

Here.

Just like 2014, I threw a pack on my back and wandered into the forest. Whatever hay I'd been able to cobble together in September (just over 250km of running) was already in the barn for Vulture Bait, so now it was time to absorb the work and put in some time hiking under a load. I'd gone backpacking a week before the Run for the Toad 50k in 2013, a few weeks before Horror Hill last year and again this spring prior to Sulphur Springs in May - I feel like wandering up steep hills with 30+lbs on my back is actually pretty decent training for ultrarunning.

Not to mention just plain pretty.

The plan was more or less the same as last year - do the full 2 loops of the Highland Trail in Algonquin Park over 2 nights. Because I'd actually reserved everything months in advance, I was in fact able to execute that plan this time rather than having to do the whole thing in 1 night like last year. We also got Tanker situated at the Mew Lake campground so he could drive-in camp with friends of ours and do some fishing and cycling while I went and climbed steep things.

Like this, which I damn near fell backward down within the first hour on the trail.
I tried to smarten up a little.

With Tanker at Mew Lake, this meant I could go up the West side of loop 1 and loop 2 from the trailhead, camp at Head Lake Friday night, then come past Harness Lake and down the East side of loop 2 then loop 1 and connect with the Track and Tower Trail extension and walk directly into Tanker's campsite on Sunday morning after spending Saturday night at the East side of Provoking Lake. My sweet husband even promised me a fresh cup of coffee and a hot breakfast of bacon and eggs when I arrived - love that man!

Nothing to grouse about.

I set off in cool but fair weather, only marginally disappointed that the fall colours weren't nearly as advanced or spectacular as they'd been last year.

Still plenty of moss, though.

I got on the trail by 2:20pm and made pretty decent time on the way South past Provoking Lake & Faya Lake, stopping periodically to take pictures of the local flora and fauna.

"Who, me? A snake? Nah, I'm a stick. Really. Keep walking."

The trail was much drier than last year, owing to a fairly rainless summer, so there was seldom any delay due to unsure footing or boggy patches. Some parts of the trail were a bit overgrown and some places could have used a couple of additional trail markers - not that the yellow ones employed in the 2nd loop are that easy to see when the foliage is turning in autumn - but by and large it was as easy going as you'll ever get in the proper backcountry.

I'm willing to work a bit to visit places like this.

I knew I was getting close to Head Creek and was wondering why I couldn't hear the falls rushing - they'd been audible from at least a kilometer away in 2014. Once I passed the West end of the portage it became readily apparent why I wasn't hearing much but a trickle.

All of this was a torrent of water last year.

Finding a quartet of hipsters at the first Head Lake campsite, I made my way East along the Southernmost portion of the trail to the same site I'd camped at last year, arriving 3 hours and 30mins after leaving the trailhead at 5:50pm. Unfortunately, the campsite was in poorer condition than I'd left it.

My nice little worktable with my dad's initials carved in it is rather less than level.

With an hour before sunset, I set to work getting my tent up and bed laid out, then went in search of the thunderbox I'd been unable to locate in 2014. To my dismay, it was exactly where I'd thought it was last year - underneath a big fallen tree that still hadn't been cleared. Looks like I'd be catholing again.

Can you spot it?

With camp set up and a few rocks from the firepit propping up my work surface, I collected an armload of sticks to use as firewood against what was predicted to be a very chilly evening - temperature just over the freezing mark with wind chill just below it.

Not a huge supply, but enough for a cheery little blaze.

With my bear hang line set and full of a delicious dinner, I started my little campfire and sat in its comforting glow as I wrote page after page in my trip log. By the time I'd run out of sticks to burn it was still just 9pm, but I decided to turn in as I'd most likely be awake at dawn the next morning. I'd hiked about 12.6km out from the trailhead, and had a longer day to look forward to.

Constantly hungry for pieces of stick, but a welcome source of heat and light.

I awoke at first light after a night of fitful sleep - I had stupidly forgotten the pad straps for my down backpacking quilt, which meant it would gape open and allow drafts in when I'd move in my sleep. I tried to burrito myself as best I could, but ended up being a BRR-ito repeatedly.

Yes, that was terrible. Here, have a dawn photo to make up for it.

I rolled myself into my trousers and my down jacket and headed down to the water's edge to watch the morning sky put on a show for me.

I will happily endure a chilly night for a daystarter like this.

I made coffee and breakfast in the chill air, then filtered what I figured would be enough water to get me to my next campsite as it was BLOODY COLD with a stiff wind coming in across the water - I'd rather do the rest of my filtration after the day had a chance to warm up. By 9:45am I was back on the trail, heading past Harness Lake and up the East side toward the junction with loop 1.

Some of the sugar maples were flaring with colour.

I love how lush this spot is down toward the South end of loop 2.

I met a few other people out on the trail, including a young couple whom I passed, then saw again as they passed me (while I took a 10min pack-off break and had a few handfuls of trail mix for lunch), then passed one last time as they stopped for lunch by Fly Lake.

They had a great view, despite the overcast day.

They let me know they'd been out on the Western Uplands Trail earlier in the year and the Mink Creek crossing that had been such a mess when Tanker and I hiked it in 2013 had been fixed! So this might call for a return journey in the near future - Maggie Lake is calling to me.

I continued on my merry way, happy to have a fleece vest on overtop of my longsleeve merino wool shirt to keep me warm on a cooler day than Friday had been. I'd still sweat on the climbs, but could easily have become chilled without the extra layer to keep my core warm.

Don't let the sunshine in this shot fool you - the day was mostly overcast and definitely not summery.

I took my chances and kept on hiking as I passed the two Easternmost Provoking Lake sites, then the two closer to the point. I would have liked to snag the campsite on the point itself, as the view is unparalleled, but knew it was likely to be occupied as I'd be arriving mid-afternoon. With 17.5km to hike from Head Lake, anyone starting from the trailhead a mere 5km away was likely to beat me to the punch. A couple of hundred metres past the last campsite before the point (all had been unoccupied so far), I met a couple of young fellows who were out doing a day hike around the first loop - I asked if they knew if the 2 sites closer to the trailhead had already been taken, and they told me they had seen people at both. So, I turned around and hiked with them for the couple of minutes back to the site I'd just passed, and was happy to offer them the photo of my map that they requested: turns out they hadn't brought one with them. Having had mine fall out of my pocket last year, I could sympathize, and wished them the best of luck as I arrived at my campsite (which had a functional thunderbox, though it was a fair hike uphill to access) by 2:45pm - almost exactly 5 hours after I set out.

This seems absurdly large for just me.

With rain predicted to start overnight and continue through into Sunday afternoon and a really cold wind blowing, I pitched my tent in a little hollow between some trees and threw my tarp up over the entrance so I'd have a dry place to brew up a cup of coffee and munch a granola bar the next morning. I put on my wind jacket and had a pot noodle to warm myself back up as the afternoon marched onward toward evening - it was really cold without the sun to warm me! But just before sunset a most welcome sight appeared: an ever-widening swath of blue sky on the South side of Provoking Lake.

This bodes better.

As the sun set out of my view and behind the remaining cloud cover to the West, I made myself a delicious hot dinner and had just finished cleaning up my pot/bowl when I heard some splashing just down the shoreline from my campsite. When it resolved itself into a rhythmic pattern I decided to go investigate, and was rewarded both for my curiosity and for always keeping my camera in my pocket while in the woods.

This grand lady waded into the water for an evening drink.

Returning to my campsite after such an awe-inspiring sight, I quickly built up a fire as darkness fell. I sat by my little fire and wrote about my adventures in my trip log, then had a brew up and relaxed by my cheerful little blaze with a mug of hot chocolate and felt completely satisfied with myself. The silence of the evening was only broken by the occasional rustling of tiny feet in the forest as woodland creatures went about their business, and millions of stars emerged from the twilight to put on an incredible show above me.

Nothing like a hot choddy by the fire for a nightcap.

By 9:30pm my food was stowed up a tree and my fire had dwindled to a glowing bed of coals, so I rolled into my little tent and wrapped myself in my quilt and down toque hoping for a warmer night's sleep. The 17.5km I had hiked today, added to the 12.5km of the day before, were taking their toll on my legs. Worse than that, I had failed to lace my boots tightly enough when leaving from the trailhead, and the steep climbs with my feet moving in my boots had rubbed up nasty blisters on both my heels that had only worsened through the 30km I had hiked so far. I hoped they wouldn't be too much of a hindrance in the morning.

I am a feathery burrito.

I slept relatively late (having woken up multiple times through the night again, including a 5am pee break that couldn't be delayed any longer), waking to the sound of a red squirrel chittering just as the sun was cresting the horizon around 7:15am. In an effort to be on the trail - and back to Tanker - as soon as possible, I immediately started packing things away and was in my hiking clothes with all my other gear in the tent already in my backpack by the time I stepped outside at 7:30am. I'd been sleeping with my pack under my feet, both in an effort to keep warm (as I only use a shoulder-to-knee length sleeping pad) and to try to keep my legs elevated for recovery, so it was easy to tidy up as I went along. 

No rain yet, but as I boiled water for a cup of coffee to ward off the chill and dropped my tent, I left the tarp up and ensured that all of my gear stayed under it - if it should start to precipitate it would be easy for me to dart underneath and sit on my little folding stool while I had my pre-exit beverage and snack. Fortunately the dry weather held as I drank my coffee, polished off the last couple of handfuls of trail mix, and visited the conveniences one last time before hitting the trail again by 8:55am.

On my way out.

It was pretty easy going past several landmarks down the Eastern side of loop 1 - first the campsite on the point, then the unmarked (!) side trail to the last campsite, then the portage between Provoking Lake and Lake of Two Rivers. Onward past the Starling Lake lookout side trail, which I didn't bother with: I had lovely photos from last year when it was clear and sunny with stunning colour, so the predominantly green foliage in overcast weren't much of a draw (especially since it meant 2 more big climbs for my poor, blistered feet). 

Turn right at the East/West split to head down, down, down the hill I'd nearly tumbled on, emerging at the Old Railway Bike Trail. From there things become very flat and non-technical as you pass the West end of Starling Lake, then the falls on the Madawaska River. A couple of minutes further, and you come to the junction with the Track and Tower Trail, which leads directly into the Mew Lake campground where my darling awaited.

The Track and Tower Trail is rather easy going after the Highland Trail.

I arrived at our friends' campsite next door to Tanker's at 10:15am, 1 hour and 20mins after I set out, for a total on-trail time of 9 hours and 50 minutes. A light mist had begun to fall in the final 10mins or so of my hike, and while it wasn't enough to make me stop to put on my rain kit, I was happy to throw on my Gore Tex jacket and sit under the tarp at Tanker's campsite to sit with him and enjoy a hearty, hot breakfast. We chatted with our friends and Tank told me all about his cycling and fishing adventures - it turns out he'd seen a bull moose the day before, also having an evening drink - while I regaled him with stories from the trail.

Definitely a great way to end a backpacking trip.

Had a super time all 'round, and now it's time to get the hell out of here - we're off to Bon Echo tomorrow morning to spend Thanksgiving on Joeperry Island!

Happy Campsgiving!

Hanging on by my fingernails..

..because my toenails are starting to fall off.

Lucky you.

This is the final week of build for the Vulture Bait 50k, and I'm starting to feel a bit ragged. To put things in perspective, here are a couple of tables, because sometimes being an accountant is a hard habit to kick.

I think there's one week that actually obeys the 10% rule..

This one is rather more dramatic.

And September's not over yet.

Odds are almost 100% that by September 30th I will have run more this month than I did in the prior three put together. This is not something I recommend.

On the bright side, despite some worrisome soreness last weekend, I think the idiot injury I sustained at the end of May is managing to hang in there. I'm trying to be kind to it  - well, as much as possible while still making increasingly unreasonable demands on it - by continuing to swim for recovery and actually using some of my myofascial release tools. Foam rolling may not seem like something that could be defined as "playing nice" while in progress, but does seem to keep things feeling better.

After I stop, that is.

The increased run training is also having the highly beneficial effect of helping me lose some of the extra poundage I've been carrying. I am quite literally running my arse off, though I'm pretty sure any hope of making it down to a reasonable racing weight evaporated back in August. Nonetheless, not only does the weight loss amplify the effect of my meagre fitness since there's less bulk for my poor, overworked legs to haul around, it also means that there's slightly less raw tonnage to cause harmful impact with every plodding step. Tanker doesn't seem to mind the extra room on the couch, either.

Recent portrait.

I've even busted out a new pair of trainers from my stash in an effort to keep from pounding myself into dust, and just bought a new pair of trail shoes in which I intend to race. All of the pairs I had in the current rotation were starting to get a bit high on the mileage scale, and right now I need my footwear to offer some good cushioning. I really am trying to walk a tightrope between arriving at the start of Vulture Bait hopelessly under-trained for a 50k and damaging myself while trying to cobble together some fitness. It doesn't even matter if it's a recurrence of the tendinosis that started at the end of May or some other kind of injury - I have to make every effort to stay healthy and strong if I'm going to have any chance of making it through the second loop on October 17th.

One last absurdly long run to go..

Georgina Sprint not-a-Triathlon - September 13th, 2015

Showed up at the race site in 10c/50f and it's raining bloody sideways.

ALL THE YIPES

We see a bunch of people packing up their bikes and heading out. They clearly have at least as much NOPE as I do for this race, but I decide I'll go pick up my kit and see what the story is anyway...mostly because we'd rolled out of bed at the buttcrack of dawn and driven 2hrs to get there. I actually struggled into the lower half of my wetsuit in the car just to keep me warm on the way to kit pickup, leaving most of my clothes in the car to stay dry while I threw on my MultiSport Canada hoodie and wrapped a space blanket I found in my transition bag around me..

I get my first look at Lake Simcoe and see three foot breaking waves. My NOPE level increases dramatically. As I line up to pick up my race bag, though, it's announced that the swim is cancelled - this triathlon just turned into a DUathlon, consisting of a 5k run, 20k bike, and another 2.5k run. Gee, good thing I put my wetsuit on. 

I resolve to at least start the damn thing. I rue the fact that I'd given a long, hard look to my Vanderkitten vest as I was packing up my bag the day before, but decided against bringing it because I've never actually bothered to stop in T1 before to put it on (despite having done some seriously cold racea). I pull out a pair of air travel socks with the toe seams snipped that live in my transition bag - a.k.a. my ghetto arm warmers - and use the scissors that I keep in there to cut myself a chunk of space blanket, which I unceremoniously stuff down the front of my trisuit in an effort not to freeze to death.

Purple scarf chick is not amused.

With less than 20mins to the start, I toss my bike, my helmet, sunglasses and cycling shoes into a rack spot in transition (leaving everything else inside to stay dry), then line up with my wave in the corral by the finish line to start this bit of madness. Oh, and I slapped on my usual smiley face, because what the heck else can you do at this point but laugh?

It's hard to draw on the back of your own calf.

I start at the back of the pack, and having run almost 19km the day before, figure I'll probably stay there. I just trot along as easy as possible, knowing I'll need to save some legs for what promises to be a terrifying time on the bike. I hadn't done a duathlon since Victoria's back in May of 2010, but I remember how my legs felt like they were filled with cement after the first run then.

Behind me is the reason the swim was cancelled.
The water safety team couldn't even get the course marked.

It was pretty damn humbling being less than 2km into the first run when the M40-49 men started coming past me like I was standing still, having started 3mins behind me. I did pass one or two people along the way, but certainly wasn't in any danger of being competitive. I sure wasn't going to sneak up on anyone, either - my space blanket wrapping made a loud rustling noise with every step, bounce and jiggle...and there were a lot of those.

Just floatin' along - nothing to see here, folks.

The run course was nice and flat, which meant the extra insulation I'm carrying around wasn't the liability it could have been. With nothing but a bit of silver saran wrap, a couple of socks and my spandex to trap bodyheat, this was taking #TRUSTTHECHUB to a whole new level, but fortunately there was plenty of it in which to put my faith. I did eventually make it back to transition, doing what I do best.

Acting the insufferable fool.

5k run: 30:18 @ 6:03/km

166/194 O/A - 60/80 W - 8/11 W35-39

Into transition, I toed off my tri loafers only to have the insole of the right shoe pull halfway out. Damnit, I'm going to need that again. I bend down to straighten it out and my hamstrings stage a protest at what they feel constitutes cruel and unusual punishment. To complete the experience, I nearly rip off my hanging-on-by-a-thread right big toenail while putting on my cycling shoes, then dump a puddle of water on my head as I put my helmet on. Welp, nothing here is working out - might as well ride.

HI HO CHUBBY, AWAAAAAAAAY!

T1: 01:38

So the bike course would be incredibly beautiful in nice weather. Most of the first half is along Lake Road, hugging the Southern shore of Lake Simcoe with the view of the water and endless beaches only occasionally interrupted by a hedge, fence or a few trees. This, of course, meant there was precious little shelter from the 40kph/25mph wind gusts coming off the lake as they tried to blow my bike flat. Triathlon Ontario had gone so far as to ban the use of disc wheels for this race due to the conditions, but even with standard road wheels it was sketchy as hell in the blowing rain. I nearly got wiped out by some guy coming past me without any warning as I was about to dodge a frost-heaved manhole cover (seriously people - is it THAT HARD to say "on your left?"), and I played airborne caterpillar with a couple of people. I wasn't pushing things too hard, partly because I was fearful of overspending my traction budget (horizontal track stands suck) and partly because I didn't want to roast my legs. Once I made the turn onto Metro Road to head back toward the race site, though, I took advantage of the flat course and more predictable wind patterns to make up some time. I left it in the small ring but spun up to just over 30kph and started passing a lot more people in front of me, trying to offer a kind word to my fellow competitors out braving these ridiculous conditions. I thanked the police & volunteers profusely, too - a chilled as I was on the bike, it would be so much worse standing around in that weather just to herd a bunch of spandex-clad idiots around a course. My space blanket breastplate was probably the only reason I didn't go hypothermic, and while it bunched up uncomfortably by my left hip at one point, I was able to get it sorted back out without leaving the aerobars.

20k bike: 43:05 @ 27.85kph

142/194 O/A - 42/80 W - 6/11 W35-39

Safely to the dismount line, it was no time to start taking chances, so I once again came to a complete stop and gingerly stepped off before lumbering back into transition. I couldn't feel my feet, but that's nothing new for anyone who's raced Lakeside before.

I swear I'm actually running here.

Back into my tri loafers after ditching my bike, helmet & glasses at the rack, then on to the last leg of this foolhardy little adventure.

T2: 01:30

Still illin'.

Feeling the chill from the bike as I set out, there was no longer any reason to try to save anything and plenty of motivation to work hard in order to warm myself up. I'd forgotten to put a gel packet into my bento box on the bike, so grabbed a cup of sport drink (at least I was told it was spoort drink - it tasted like plain water) from an aid station in an effort to get a bit of a carbohydrate boost.

I was actually feeling pretty good and passing a number of people along the way - the flat course and chilly weather was well suited to my post-injury flabbiness.

Puddle jumping

Through the turn-around and back down a very mild decline toward the finish, I threw down with all I had left in my meagre stores of fitness and endurance. I did actually manage to tiny bit of a kick as I approached the muddy chute.

My smiley face got a bit grubby.

2.5k run: 14:05 @ 5:37/km

138/194 O/A - 41/80 W - 5/11 W35-39

Across the line with no flair or flourish, I had to admit I was glad I hadn't just packed up and gone the hell home. Against all odds, I'd managed to enjoy myself out there!

But still so, so done.

Official time: 1:30:35

138/194 O/A - 41/80 W - 5/11 W35-39

Having now done one with more than a single season's racing experience, I may consider racing a duathlon intentionally again in the future. I also wouldn't hesitate to race at Georgina again; on a more pleasant day it would be a very fast course for PR or benchmark chasing, and the views of Lake Simcoe on the bike an run courses are simply breathtaking.

I don't know what it says about me, though, that upon seeing a girl out running in our town just after getting home my first thought was "Gee, I should really get out for a run.."

Sit back, relax..

..and just watch me flounder.

Official tshirt of my tri season 2015

So the inaugural Georgina triathlon is this Sunday, and I will be lining up at the start with bugger all hope of doing much more than (possibly) surviving it.

I'm still quite fat and out of shape, and have no intention of tapering for this race - I can't afford to lose any more time to build run distance for the Vulture Bait 50k in 5 weeks (YIKES), so I'll be jamming out for over 10 miles of running on Saturday afternoon. I managed to get in 49.5km last week despite spending the weekend thoroughly enjoying myself whooping it up with friends at a motorcycle rally, and I should be over 50k this week. Not what anyone would consider "enough", but better than the 12-18km/week I was putting in back in July, plus those couple of 0km weeks.

Historically, the last tri of the year has generally been a "just for the sheer hell of it" race anyway. At least this year it's only a sprint rather than an Olympic distance, so I'll only have to suffer for somewhere between 1.5-2hrs rather than over 3.

And, of course, with all of my "extra insulation" I should have no problems with chilly morning temperatures at De La Salle Park - the flub should provide some extra buoyancy to prevent me from drowning, too, assuming I can manage to jam it all into my wetsuit.

#TRUSTTHECHUB

Wish me luck - I'm definitely going to need it!

Eat my exhaust

So yeah, running is going pretty well. I'm re-discovering all the lovely chafe points and aches that come with being a different size than I usually am at this time of year (read: much, much fatter) and still remarkably out of shape, but I'm increasing mileage steadily and my chubby body seems to be accepting the work.

Going to try to keep it up and pushing distance this weekend, but my primary goal is motorbike-based hooliganism and spending time with people I love whom I don't see often enough.

This may not be a sound strategy for success at the inaugural Georgina sprint triathlon next weekend, but I can't seem to locate a single damn to give about that.

Hope you all have an awesome long weekend!

Tendinitis tightrope

So far, so good.

I'm finally starting to feel like I'm back. I'm running 6 days per week again instead of the paltry 3 times I had been through June and July while that whatever-it-is tendon in my right hip/groin/leg was being a jerk. The time off seems to have helped, and while I can't say it's perfect it's definitely one hell of a lot better than it was.

By Tuesday of this week the weather had mercifully cooled off a bit from its former "swamp on Mercury" conditions, and combined with possibly having regained a teensy bit of fitness by drudging through feeling horribly fat, beat up and out of shape last week, I finally had a run during which I could actually relax.

I even started enjoying myself a little.

I successfully managed to run 37km last week, after months of running 20km or less (generally much less) per week. I'm on track to add to that this week, which means I'm getting within earshot of the 50km per week I generally like to maintain year-round.

I'm faced with a dilemma, though. 

I have two ultras scheduled for the month of October - the first of which is a 50k that is a paltry (and freakin' terrifying) 7 weeks away. The temptation is to pile on the mileage in an attempt to get my endurance up to snuff for an event of that magnitude.

I do that, however, and I stand a really good chance of re-injuring myself. It's not just the healing tendon I have to worry about: none of my body is accustomed to running long distance right now, all the way from my joints and soft tissues to the callouses I need to rebuild on my feet. It would be horrible to come back from one injury and end up with another because I imprudently ran too much while still trying to re-acclimatize.

Am I going to get this right? Who knows? All I can do is try to listen to my body and keep my fingers crossed.

Remediation

I ran the race of my life back in May, setting a massive 50k PR at Sulphur Springs in the best running shape of my life.

Then I got injured.

Then we went paddling.

Then we went motorcycle touring.

While I'd been training in between all of these things, I don't think I'd managed to run more than 20km in a week since the end of May. I did get fairly aggressive with cycling for a bit there and continued to swim, but I was only running 3 times per week and fairly short distances to try to let the damage heal.

Then the two vacations came along, and everything ground to a halt. I was out of the pool and off the bike for 11 days, and I didn't run at all for 2 full weeks.

Yikes.

I started running again last Thursday, just as a patch of really hot and humid weather set in. I'm sure I'd be slow and a sweaty, puffing mess even if I was still in the shape I was in May.

Unfortunately, I'm not. My fitness has declined and my weight has risen.

This is not the right way 'round for this time of year.

So if you see some poor, chubby soul puffing like a steam engine and pouring a river of sweat as she struggles to keep from being passed by snails out on the trails around Cambridge, spare me a wave, will you?

Warning: trail users in the first 5 rows will get wet.