Let's get crackin'

That whole thing about running shorter distances? It worked for a whole 3 days.

There was sunshine in the trees. I couldn't help myself.

Tanker and I went down Saturday morning to help out at the big aid station at Conquer the Canuck, and I had every intention of running a lap of the 8km course after the race was done to pick up any rubbish left out on the trails - I like to keep my local conservation area clean if I can! I'd grabbed a pair of shoes that I figured would be ok for the 8k loop and threw in my supportive insoles; I'd never worn them for more than 9km before, and hadn't actually used them at all since the ice storm, but I figured they'd be fine for a leisurely trot in the woods. I was so sure I was only doing a single, easy lap that I actually rode back down to Shade's Mills after Tanker and I popped out to hit the Farmers' Market.

I sent him ahead in the car while I stayed back and made us some sammiches for lunch.

Then, things changed. Clay was running the Ultimate Canuck event - 50km on Saturday, plus a full marathon (42.2km) on Sunday. Unfortunately, only 4 laps into day one his back was acting up to the point he was ready to drop out.

The amazing Rhonda-Marie Parke, on hand to volunteer and crew for her husband Steven (also running the Ultimate Canuck), got Clay on a picnic table and put her superhero RMT skills to work. She asked if I'd be able to run with him for the next lap, to help keep him moving so he didn't seize up and so the anti-inflammatories he'd taken could kick in. Suddenly I was scrambling to change out of my cotton Happy Trails Racing t-shirt and Birkenstocks, get into my trail shoes and do a quick warmup while Clay finished off his 4th lap. I met him just past the start/finish, and we set off into the woods together.

Photo credit to George Aitkin of the Cambridge Harriers

I got a bit eaten alive, as I'd failed to apply any bug spray, but Clay is a really wonderful person with whom to share the trails. He said he was in damage control mode and wasn't feeling very social, but he was very patient about putting up with my constant yapping away about nothing terribly interesting as we made our way 'round the loop. Clay said he'd be fine going it alone for his final lap, but by the time we reached the big aid station again at 7.2km, I was still feeling pretty good...so I volunteered to accompany him through his last loop as well.

That.

The sun came out, and I was really enjoying my time out in the trees, but the sharply side-sloped trail was doing a number on my sore ankle. The lower leg - despite not being taped - was holding up fairly well, but my tibialis posterior was taking a beating when running on slated trail that left no hope of controlling my over-pronation. 

But there was sunshine and Spidey, so it couldn't be all bad.

By the time we got to the big aid station again, I decided I'd had enough and let Clay go to run the last 1km to his 50k finish proudly flying the flag. I was grateful to have been able to help in a small way, even if it was just being sufficiently annoying that I distracted him from his sore back. I had my sammich, got back into my Birkenstocks, and Tanker sweetly helped me load my hot, mosquito-bitten and sore arse into the car.

All the details here.

Sunday morning we were right back down to Shade's Mills to run the aid station all day. Things went much more to plan (apart from eating WAY too much fruit and bacon), and despite still feeling a bit sore from the prior day's exertions I still went out for a lap after the final runners (including Clay, who finished the Ultimate Canuck strong!) had passed by the aid station to clean up any garbage I found.

Nothing to see here - just taking my grocery bag out for a tour of the course.

I wore much more supportive shoes, but the damage had been done the day before - I only did the less-than-7km section from the pavilion, 'round the loop and back to the aid station before calling it a day. It was hotter than it had been on Saturday, I was too full of fruit and bacon, and my foot was sore.

Yes, it really did take me almost an hour.

By the time we got home after packing up all the aid station supplies and a visit to the grocery store (so we wouldn't have to go out again), I was so tired I could barely stand up. Due to the early start on both days, I'd not got much in the way of sleep over the weekend, and almost immediately treated myself to a nap with my feet up.

Esme helped.

Monday I was still feeling quite tired and sore, but I also had my first appointment with my new chiropractor. It turns out I was right about my misbehaving fibula being the cause of my weeks of woe, and he set to work right away to try to correct the problem. He adjusted my knee and ankle, and used cold laser and pulsed electromagnetic field therapies on various points on my leg.

Frickin' laser beams and the stylish shades I get to wear while being treated.

Ooh, that tingles a bit..

I walked out feeling much better than I had in weeks. It's still not perfect, but I'm so grateful that I've finally identified the issue, and have found a professional who can help me resolve it! I went home and packed up my kit, then went for my first lunch run in more than a month on Tuesday afternoon. Not only did I want to keep my legs loose for the weekend, I also needed to try the new Brooks Ravenna 9s with my Currex RunPro insoles to make sure they would play nicely together (along with the socks in which I intend to race).

I meant to take it easy, especially since it was a hot, sunny day and I had to run over a 401 overpass to get to my office.

I did not.

That right there? That's a happy girl.

I kept it down to 3.5km - just a 20min jam - and things felt pretty good. I saw my chiro again on Wednesday for some more work, and it seems the head of my fibula tried to stick in place again. He got it moving, shot me with laser beams and pulsed electromagnetic fields again, and then (after I politely asked if he'd have a look at my hips, which have been pretty tight) blasted my upper legs with a rubber knob-laden device that looked like a cross between a belt sander and a BDSM accessory before making me whimper by using the blades of his forearms to march down my IT bands. A couple of spinal adjustments later, and I wandered out slightly dazed but feeling better. The good doctor also reviewed the kinesiology tape application I'd used on the fibula on Tuesday (which I was still wearing, in order to show him) and confirm it was overall correct, while suggesting a slight adjustment to the placement. 

So now it's the eve of the Niagara Ultra. While I can't say I feel ready to toe the start line - I'd love another month to get my leg fully rehabbed, do at least one long run on pavement, and maybe have more than just 6km of test runs on the shoes I'll be using - I am certainly in a better position than I was before Seaton. I elected not to run past Tuesday to let myself rest and heal as much as possible, as I'm not in a position to care about my aerobic fitness or my legs feeling a bit heavy at the start.

Not exactly a lot to taper from, but still..
(Figures as of Tuesday after the lunch run)

All I can do at this point is tape the ever-loving hell out of my foot and leg, show up, think positive, and be grateful for the opportunity to enjoy the beautiful Niagara River Recreation Trail.

Oh, and try not to melt in the heat.

The course is open for 13.5hrs, and (as long as I don't seem to be doing catastrophic damage) I'm bound and determined to actually finish this thing. I just hope it doesn't get on top of me too badly; I swear the lens of foresight is making this 50k look longer than even my first one did back in 2013.

No matter what happens tomorrow, though, tonight I get to spend an evening away with my sweetheart, who will be waiting for me whenever I am done with the course on Saturday. He's even promised that he'll take me to check out a GF bakery in St. Catharines afterward, so really the race itself is just a little wander down a path to build an appetite, right?

There will be cookies in my pockets, friendly faces out on the course, and lovely views of the Niagara River. With all that, honestly - how bad could it be?

Finding stability

I've been stubborn and stupid, but I think I'm finally getting better..

So I can enjoy more of this.

It's almost 8 weeks now since I damaged myself running through the ice storm. I've basically had two issues: I've been unable to put weight on the ball of my right foot without pain through the outside of my lower leg - particularly when landing on my forefoot as I do when running, or when toeing off - and my tibialis posterior (right behind the ankle bone on the inside of my right leg) has been really grouchy at the severe over-pronation I've had since I blew my ankle to smithereens back in February.

No bueno.

I worked with my osteopath on the lower leg issue to try to address what we thought might be a peroneal tendon issue, but then my coverage for the year ran out just before my DNF at Seaton Soaker. Somehow it seemed to get a bit better after the race, which is definitely not what one would expect from a tendon issue that I'd run on for more than 5 hours. My osteo also suggested I try some stability shoes, since it was clear that my right foot was over-pronating (rolling inward) quite badly when I walked and ran.

I resisted. I'd tried stability shoes back when I first started running and had very poor experiences with them. Having trained myself (at great effort through the spring of 2010, coming off another injury) to run on my forefoot in neutral shoes, I've never really looked back. I also have rather a large stock of neutral running shoes on hand, and running shoes are EXPENSIVE. I decided to try to strengthen my hip, glute, lower leg and foot muscles to try to correct the pronation without mechanical aid.

It didn't go super well. I continued to run, but only occasionally - like twice per week.

Far cry from the clockwork consistency I usually maintain, shown by 3 pre-injury weeks at the top.

It simply hurt too much to run more frequently, so I'd end up just doing my Wednesday post-work run down through Cooksville Creek Valley and maybe go out and hit a trail (or, you know, jump into guiding someone for 20km..) on the weekend if I could. It was all I felt I could do, while the clock ticked ever closer to the Niagara Ultra. I didn't seem to have much in the way of improvement with the pain in the outside of my leg (though there was some), which made it difficult to do much in the way of calf strength exercises - essential to ankle stability. I worked my glutes and hips, did heel drops and walked on my toes as much as I could bear, and did foot exercises in an effort to strengthen my collapsing arch.

Because that's not a great angle for an ankle under load.

I did eventually cave and try to buy some stability shoes, but they turned out to be ill-fitting so I had to pay to return them. I have trouble finding shoes at the best of times, which is why I buy extra pairs when I find something I like (and thus have so many un-used pairs of neutral shoes waiting in my stash). With nothing else on my radar as a suitable option, I decided to try a pair of insoles that are designed to help control pronation. Sticking them in the neutral shoes I already owned offered a bit of relief, but I was still having my best runs on the trails in shoes that offer a bit of stability.

Also: in calf sleeves. I'll get to that in a minute.

I managed to run on back-to-back days this past Saturday and Sunday, in a last-ditch effort to get some mileage under my belt before Niagara. 10km at Puslinch Tract, then another 6.66km (heh) on the Royal Recreation Trail on Sunday. Both went ok, though were not without their moments of wincing...and frantic flailing as the massive population of mosquitoes attempted to drain my last drop of blood.

Worth every single bite.

Nothing better for my soul than roots, rocks, rivers and sunshine.

I took Monday off as my poor leg and ankle were feeling a bit worn out after their first back-to-back runs in ages. I also resolved to take a different approach to running: I'd try much shorter distances more frequently, instead of the larger but rarer bursts of running I'd been doing lately. With the support of the inserts and a bit of strength starting to return to my right lower leg, I could feel the beginnings of my stride coming back...but only as long as I didn't fatigue it too much. I had to shake the stupid mindset that anything less than 5k or 30mins didn't really count as a "run" - totally a result of the Slowtwitch 100 runs in 100 days challenge, and certainly working to the detriment of my return to pain-free running.

On Tuesday, a few things happened. First, I got an email from my osteopath asking how I was doing - really just a courtesy follow-up, but it got me thinking. The only pain I was still having when walking and running was just below my right knee on the outside, right at the head of my fibula (the smaller of the two lower leg bones, which runs from your outer ankle bone to the outside of your knee). It would only happen when my knee was bent; I could do straight-leg calf raises with no problem. I did some searching around the internet, and turned up some tales of fibular subluxation - basically the top of the fibula moving out of position, and pressing on the peroneal nerve, causing pain up the outside of the lower leg. 

This would totally explain why the upper outside of my calf would hurt when pressed on (like laying on my right hand side in bed, or foam rolling). With some more searching, I found some mobilization techniques and a kinesiology tape application for the issue. Since I keep some tape at the office, I gave it a try, taping the head of my fibula forward after mobilizing it. 

Just one half-length piece of tape.

Relief was not 100%, but it was instantaneous. I tested my leg with some bent-leg calf raises, and it was like a damn miracle! I hated that it had taken me so many weeks of suffering to come to this point, but at least I'd found a working diagnosis of the issue (which had previously ranged anywhere from a previously un-diagnosed fracture in my ankle through sciatica) and a working solution. I wondered if my long runs in calf sleeves had felt better due to the compression helping to properly position the head of my fibula..?

I also came to the conclusion that I simply was not going to be able to strengthen my ankle enough to stop the painful over-pronation with the insoles alone, and found a couple of likely candidates for stability shoes that might a) fit me decently, and b) provide enough cushioning for an ultra on a paved path. I ordered them, and then - with my fibula firmly taped - set about putting my new "run less, but more often" idea into practice.

With my first Tuesday Night Trailrun of the year!

I kept it short: just 3.5km on a smooth, flat trail. My knee and calf responded fairly well, but I stupidly wore a pair of shoes that I selected for their cushion...but also happen to be about the least stable footwear known to man. I might as well have been running with a tennis ball strapped to the sole of each foot, and my poor tibialis posterior rather suffered for it.

I stuck the insoles (which I'd also neglected to wear) in a more stable pair of shoes, and packed up my kit for Wednesday. I couldn't miss Global Running Day!

Or the chance to run some of my favourite bits of trail.

With the tape assisting my fibula and the insoles supporting my arches, I could definitely feel my stride starting to return...but my tibialis posterior was still sore, and my right calf - which had been severely under-used as of late - was definitely worn out from my return to forefoot running. Feeling a bit mithered after runs on 4 out of the prior 5 days, I fully expected to take Thursday and Friday off...but then my 2 pairs of stability shoes turned up. I tried both on to make sure they fit, wearing them around my office for a while as I walked and sat at my desk. I knew the one pair would likely be good for me as it was essentially a shoe I already owned, only with the addition of a medial post, but wasn't as sure about the other.

I believe these will be my Niagara Ultra shoes.

So, I ran again on Thursday night to test them out.

Could they make the medial post a little more obvious?

It was only 2.6km, but it was almost as magical as the taping application had been. Without even adding the supportive insoles, the Brooks Ravenna 9s kept my arch from collapsing and the slightly higher hell-to-toe drop than I'm used to (10mm instead of <8mm for the rest of my shoes) gave my tight, sore calf some relief as I trotted around our neighbourhood for the first time in ages. The cushioning turned out to be much plusher than I'd feared when just walking around my office; like a heavy-duty suspension, it needed the load of a running stride to bring out its best aspects. I ran 95% pain free, even if it was only for 15mins or so.

The face of someone who thinks they see a light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

I feel like an idiot for having waited so long to get myself into some stability shoes. Apart from not wanting to spend the money (and gawd knows the two pairs that just came in cost a pretty penny, and the insoles weren't cheap either) and having SO MANY PAIRS of neutral shoes already in my stash, I was also stubbornly against the idea: it felt like admitting weakness, that I wasn't strong enough to keep my errant foot under control.

I realise how foolish that sounds. I used a brace for my wrist after I broke it, to support it while doing strenuous activities while it healed and regained strength. Why should my ankle be any different? I can't expect it to be the same as it was before after undergoing so much trauma in the last few months, and I can't get too down on myself for not being able to correct it completely with a few weeks of glute and hip workouts. For that matter, there are elite runners - people with more amazing talent than I could ever hope to possess - who run in stability shoes because their biomechanics require them. I do hope that I'll be able to return to neutral shoes in the coming months and years, but for now (at least) I need the extra assistance of a medial post in order to keep from doing more damage.

The most important part is that I'm finally able to get back to some running consistency. While I'm taking today off, I've now successfully run 3 days in a row, and 5 out of the last 7!

This is the best things have looked since mid-April.

I'm nowhere near completely cured, but I'm definitely much closer to it than I was at the beginning of this week. I've made an appointment with a chiropractor for Monday to see if he can assist me with proper alignment of my fibula, but even after the tape came off in the shower last night (after clinging tenaciously for almost 3 days) I don't seem to be having any regression. I'm moving better than I have in over a month and a half, and I'm so grateful to seemingly be on the right path at last.

When failure is not an option

We were on our way out to Frontenac to go backpacking and I was scrolling through facebook when I came across the post: a friend had fallen and bruised or cracked a rib at Seaton Soaker, and was now unable to guide a visually impaired athlete at Sulphur Springs for lap 1 of his first 50 mile race. She hoped that one of her friends might step up and offer to guide in her place.

Through stunning Dundas Valley Conservation Area

I'm still injured, and not running much. I had taped my quads up just to get through the backpacking trip. First lap would mean getting up at 2:45am, and I've never guided a visually impaired runner before. I had every reason to just keep scrolling, but (after wandering the whole idea past dear, sweet, ever-patient Tanker), I put the offer out there that I'd attempt guiding for the first time if the runner was ok with me being a bit slow and inexperienced.

What can I say? I love Dundas Valley, and I was still smarting from having to back out on pacing a friend for 2 laps of her first 100 mile attempt at Sulphur. I'd had to tell her back in late April (to give her as much time as possible to find a replacement) that I didn't think I'd be good to go after messing up my right leg running through the ice storm, and I felt horrible about it - helping another athlete felt like a bit of vindication. We'd be done early enough in the day to still make it to our farmers' market (as we'd already missed a couple of weeks due to Seaton and the Frontenac trip), and I was reasonably confident I could do a single 20k lap on much less technical trail after managing 34km at Seaton Soaker.

Tim - the visually impaired runner who would be making his 50 mile debut - accepted my offer, and we messaged a bit over the week before the race. I was so incredibly nervous about this; what had I done? I'm injured, have never guided before, and don't have much in the way of run fitness.

But, it wasn't my race. It was Tim's, which meant failure was not an option. I did the best I could to ensure I'd be good to go on race day: I ran easy on Wednesday to keep my legs decently fresh while still giving my injury a couple of days to recover, tried to get some sleep, and then slapped on most of a roll of kinesio tape Saturday morning to try to hold myself together.

Srsly.

Up well before the crack of dawn, I had a bowl of oatmeal with some Pick Your Poison honey for whatever running mojo it might provide (it had worked at Seaton!), grabbed coffee and breakfast for long-suffering Tanker (who agreed to a 3:45am wake-up call for this. What an amazing guy!) at T Ho's along the way, and arrived at Dundas Valley by 5am. The usual pre-race things happened, including chats and hugs with friends out racing, crewing and pacing, and a portajohn stop.

By 5:30am, I'd managed to find Tim and we went over a few last-minute things, like introducing ourselves, sorting out a bib for me (Achilles Canada hadn't managed to get him any Guide Runner bibs, so I had to go find myself a pacer bib...which turned out to be very much self-serve at that time of day, since other racers wouldn't be allowed pacers until after 8pm), and learning a bit more about his visual impairment. He suffers from severely reduced peripheral vision, so he can see...but only as much as you would looking down a toilet paper roll, or less. As he put it to me: "If I look at your nose, I can't see your left eye".

Very happy Sulphur is mostly a non-technical course.

Mostly.

I said I wanted a photo before the start, when he didn't yet have any reason to hate me.

I decided to wear my hydration pack, as I knew it would let me carry enough water and fuel that I wouldn't need to stop at any aid stations on my single 20k lap - that way Tim could stop whenever he needed, but I wouldn't slow him down by having to fill my usual hand bottle at each aid station along the way. After getting Tim's drop bag settled where it should be easy to find, one more quick dodge into the trees to adjust my hydration levels, and flailing my limbs around a bit to get them used to the idea of moving, it was time to head to the starting line.

Tim told me not to be nervous. I laughed a little at that, since the prospect of having someone else's safety in my hands had me more twitched about that race than I had been for an event in years...and technically I wasn't even racing!

We lined up at the back of the pack, and at 6:01am the horn sounded. We were off!

Photo from the Running Rarebits

Guiding turned out to be less difficult than I'd feared, but I wouldn't exactly call it easy. Anyone who has ever talked to me for 5mins will know that I have zero trouble prattling on endlessly, but I also tend to wander quite a bit conversationally and can hardly ever remember what the heck I was on about 10 seconds ago if I get distracted. So, chatting with Tim was quite easy - he's a nice, quite cheerful fellow who makes for good company on the trails - but I had to keep myself on target with calling out roots, rocks, uneven sections (like potholes in gravel, or a step up to cross a road), and the inevitable piles of horse apples that are a somewhat unique feature of the Dundas Valley trails.

On the main loop, heading for the Monarch Trail

Because I'd have to interrupt myself every minute or two along the way, I'm sure I left dozens of conversations hanging simply because I couldn't recall what we'd been talking about before I had to mention there was a root left, horse poop right, or a root well - 8 steps up - in 3, 2, 1..

I'm not terribly shit-together at the best of times, and turn into even more of an idiot when I'm running. Frankly, it's pretty amazing Tim didn't just tell me he'd take his chances going solo on the trails - I can hardly put up with myself.

..and my terrible habit of taking photos while I'm supposed to be running.

As advertised: horse poop right.

Arriving at the Sulphur Creek crossover to the runners' bridge, we had the trickiest part of the course in front of us. While Tim and the lady who was to be his guide for the second lap had done a training run on the course a few weeks prior, they'd been unable to locate the narrow little trail that dives down a small ravine via a series of rooty, muddy steps. In the interest of safety I suggested that Tim take my elbow - his preferred method of guiding through technical sections when you're forced to a walk - and that turned out to be a very good thing. I was so busy trying to describe the tangle of roots and slippery mud that I forgot the all-important call of "DEATH TO THE LEFT". Tim stepped a bit off the trail, his left foot sliding away down the muddy 40' drop, and my heart leapt into my throat - we weren't even at 6k yet and I was going to lose him down the ravine! Fortunately his hand on my elbow enabled him to pull himself back up and get both feet on the trail, and we had fairly smooth sailing from there on in.

Straight talk: this ain't easy even with fully functional eyesight.

Trail conditions - other than the mud on the rooty dive down to Sulphur Creek and a million small sticks and pinecones from the windstorm -were actually fabulous for race day. It was almost all hardpacked, and the rest of the course is mostly challenging due to the elevation change. It would, however, be made all the more difficult by the ever-increasing heat. I felt like a genius for snagging the first and likely coolest lap of the day to guide in spite of the ridiculously early wake-up. I made sure that Tim was taking in fuel and hydration, though I was pretty poor in that area myself - I only had 2 sips of diluted EFS Liquid Shot, a caffeinated sea salt chocolate Gu Roctane (near the end to keep me sharp), a couple of S!caps and a little more than a litre of water the whole time I was out there - call it 250cal total. Still, I only had the one lap, and would be done before the heat of the day really set in.

Probably why I could smile my way up the climbs while my runner was much more stoic

It was only in the last few kilometers, as we climbed to the top of the Headwaters Trail lollipop, that the heat started to become a factor. The morning's overcast had burned off, with bright sun shining down on the three sisters and the top of the loop.

The first sister

Here's where Tim's amazing outlook on life really crystallized for me. As the sun shone down through the trees he commented that he loves the dappled light in the forest, having grown up mountain biking, hiking and cross-country skiing the trails at Dundas Valley. I told him it was one of my favourite things as well, but that the only other visually impaired runner I know really hates it because it completely obliterates her view of the trail. Tim told me that it's very much the same for him - the shifting patches of light obscure any chance he has of seeing contours or obstacles - but that he loves it nonetheless. If that's not a beautiful statement about finding joy even while you struggle, I don't know what is.

Coming out into the open on top of the lollipop, our only reward was blazing sun as the last of the clouds ran away.

The last sister may be the smallest, but she still packs a punch.

Fortunately there was a self-serve water station with actual CUPS at the top; the rest of the aid stations had taken the admirable step of going cupless this year in an effort to be more environmentally friendly, but the cups allowed me to help Tim bring his rising internal temperature down a bit by pouring a cup of water down his back and over his head (after making sure he was on board with the idea first, of course!). Then we trotted along the rutted double track before the long cruise back down the hill we'd just climbed on the other side of the lollipop, and ran back out to Martin Road. 

Just one climb left to the end of the loop, but man - it's a doozy.

I still can't believe I did this 5 times in one day last year.

I was very happy to bring my runner in upright and un-damaged - I'd feared the worst before the start, and the slip-up on the Sulphur Creek crossover hadn't been very confidence inspiring, but other than a couple of stumbles everything seemed to go fairly smoothly. My ankle felt awful and had since about 30mins into the race, but I'd made it through ok by just ignoring it; failure was not an option. I knew that I was starting to lapse into silence more and more, mostly just because I'm generally a solo runner and tend to spend a lot of time in my own head while I run - I don't think I'd have been a safe guide for a second lap even if my ankle and run fitness would have allowed me to continue, as it was a bit mentally taxing to keep myself upright and moving (gawd knows I've gone down HARD both times I've raced Sulphur myself!) plus ensure I was calling all the obstacles. Tim was very kind, though, saying that if I hadn't told him it was my first time guiding he never would have known I wasn't experienced at it.

Whether or not that was true, it was sweet of him to say.

He'd originally said he wanted to come in around 3 hours per lap, so I was delighted to see 2h59m on the clock at the start/finish as we ran through the sea of pylons and across the timing mats.

Full lap data available here

Of course, I forget that the fluorescent orange cones marking the course may be obvious to me, but may not appear in someone else's reduced field of vision. Poor Tim nearly tripped over a pylon on the way to find the lady who would guide him through his next lap because I failed to warn him he was about to step on one! Fortunately he stayed upright; just like my dumb arse to nearly get him hurt right at the end of his time in my care.

We found Tim's second guide and directed him to his drop bag so he could refuel, then after a hug I let him get on with his race. Unfortunately some issues that sound horribly similar to my awful experience at Vulture Bait in 2015 robbed Tim of his first 50 mile finish - his knee got progressively more sore, preventing him from being able to run downhill and then finally locking up completely at aid station #3 on his third lap - but he's an amazing fellow and I know that he'll be successful in the future, because he clearly has strength and determination to overcome any obstacles.

For myself, I was grateful my injury still allowed me to run, and to be part of something bigger than myself. I was furthermore grateful to have the opportunity to tour gorgeous Dundas Valley on a beautiful day, to help a friend, and to make a new one. While I do treasure my solo time out on the trails, I would absolutely volunteer to guide again if I was asked, or if a similar need arose.

To commemorate the occasion, I even bought one of the 2018 Sulphur Springs hats (from the extras left over after all of the participants had picked up their race kits, which included a hat instead of a tshirt for this year), which I duly wore on my next run and will continue to wear with pride.

The only thing better than running a lovely trail is being able to help someone else while doing it.

As in my other experiences, the Sulphur Springs races were incredibly well organized and executed. We will miss Tim and Andrea as race directors - you have set the bar so very high for your successors, and we hope to see you out in the woods again soon!

Frontenacpacking

Back in January, I'd hatched a plan with Tanker - we'd go backpacking in Frontenac Provincial Park for the Victoria Day long weekend, but instead of moving from one campsite to another (as we've done in the past) we'd just stay in place both nights and I'd run a loop of the park on our day off the trail.

Base of operations and home sweet home.

With me being injured, the running part was cancelled. However, despite a forecast of rain all day on Saturday and being a bit mithered after my 5-odd hour meander through the woods at Seaton Soaker the weekend before, we decided to go ahead with the backpacking part. We were heading up to Kingsford Lake from the Big Salmon Lake parking lot, so in the north side on the park - it couldn't possibly be as challenging as the southern side, right?

Setting off from the newly expanded Big Salmon Lake parking lot.

It was raining when we got up at 6:45am. It was raining when we left at 9:20am. It rained all the way across the 401 to Kingston, then rained some more up through Sydenham and to the park office to get our permits. The temperature never got above around 14c all day, hence the vests under our packs.

We hit the trail at 3:01pm. Just for a change, it rained - though fairly lightly - almost all afternoon.

Rocky East Arkon Lake trail

I love this photo - clearly not bothered at all by the rain!

Tank insisted there be at least one photo of me as well.

Everything is so vibrantly green and growing a million tons a minute in the spring

Plenty of lovely sights along the way

We found an open ridge above Birch Lake around 2hrs in while it was just spitting a bit, and stopped to take our packs off for a few minutes and have a bit of lunch in the breeze. We felt fortunate that the bugs weren't bad at all - we'd heard that mosquito and blackfly activity was still low, and that proved true, but we still liked having some wind to keep them away while we ate.

Birch Lake off to the left with a massive ravine ahead.

Just 15mins to scarf back a couple of sandwiches, refill our nalgenes and get back on our way.

Carefully over the wet, slippery rocks

Remains of an old, crushed bridge

Definitely a bit more challenging in spots than we'd hoped.

Since both of us were out of shape from lack of trail adventures this year and my quads were still sore to the point of taping them before we left (I'd re-damaged them running a downhill point-to-point on Wednesday, possibly jeopardizing the trip), the 10km trek took quite a bit out of us. By the time we'd made it over the last big ridge to arrive at campsite cluster 11 in McNally Bay on Kingsford Lake, we were pretty knackered...and then greeted with one more climb up to our actual campsite.

Note that little stab upward right at the end.
Full hike details here.

Arriving at 6:35pm, we set to work immediately to tarp off the picnic table and get our tent set up, then added another tarp over the tent to give us a dry porch area. Not only had the rain started again, it was supposed to thunderstorm overnight. 

Fortunately, we're pretty efficient at putting a campsite together, so even had some time just before sunset to forage for some firewood. 

Tanker sawing up a downed tree I dragged back to camp at right, with our cozy kitchen all lit up.

I still can't believe I managed to get a fire going after it rained all bloody day!

There was a deluge of rain and a few cracks of thunder & lightning between 3am and 6am, but we awoke to brilliant sunshine and a completely intact campsite.

Tank saying good morning with our packs on the porch.

Kingsford Lake from the beach at the bottom of the trail to campsite 11a

We had breakfast (while keeping my "no pants before coffee" streak alive), then took care of some camp chores - filtering more water, then foraging for more firewood so we could leave it in the sun to dry out. We hauled back a big, dead pine tree that had fallen and I chopped it up so we'd have some good-size fuel to keep the fire going. While I did most of it with our folding saw, I couldn't resist the chance to try out the new knife that Tanker had got me for Christmas to see how it fared as a chopper.

Pretty well, I'd say.
Yes, I'm still in my long underoos - you can even see the tape I used to try to hold my blown quads together.

After making sure everything was tidy and ready to go (so we could leave it to the hundreds of caterpillars and millipedes that seemed to be firmly in charge), we had a bit of lunch and then set out for a day hike along the north side of the Tetsmine loop around 1:30pm.

Past some swamp

More impressive towering rocks

The rain from the day before and overnight had left everything extremely soggy - so much so that we had to spend a great deal of time picking our way around flooded or boggy trail, and were grateful to be doing so without our packs on.

It looks more like a creek than a trail.

Soon enough we reached the Crab Lake Mine site to take in some of the human history of the park.

Old mine shaft, now full of water

Slices of shining mica everywhere!

The cabin of Oliver Marks, the last operator of the Crab Lake mining operation

New historical plaque for 2018 describing the history of the mine

We then headed back past our campsite cluster and out to Kingsford Dam, as neither of us had been up that way before. 

The north side of the Tetsmine loop really is gorgeous

Information kiosk near Kingsford Dam

View of Kingsford Lake from the dam

Back to camp once more after our 6-ish kilometer hike, Tanker decided to baptise the telescopic fishing rod I got him for his birthday last month.

Complete peace.

Apparently the rod works pretty well!

As our full day in the park began to draw in, the beauty of the lake and forest was everywhere we looked.

Sun setting over the north side of McNally Bay

A loon putting on a show for us 

We headed back up the hill to our site and started a fire with a bit of birch bark we'd found, then sat back and actually burned off the entirety of our rather prodigious wood pile.

We had a bit of an issue with our stove as I boiled water to rehydrate our dinner (our only non-fresh meal so far): I got a bit too aggressive with the pump, trying to build up pressure, and tore the leather seal on the plunger. We were able to boil the water we needed, but couldn't pump it back up to heat water to do dishes. No worries, though - we carry a spare, as well as grease to lubricate it. I replaced it, and felt quite pleased as it had only taken 9mins. Then I realised I'd put the new one in wrong, so had to remove and correct it. I pumped it up quite a bit (as there wasn't a lot of fuel left in the bottle) to ensure that pressure was building, and breathed a sigh of relief..

..until Tanker (thinking there was no pressure in the bottle) went and did some more pumping, tearing the new leather. It was the only replacement we had with us. 

At least golden hour on Kingsford Lake was still pretty.

I pulled it all apart again, greasing the leather a bit more and trying to secure it as best I could. We'd just have to hope it would work in the morning, as we were nearly out of food - we had coffee and oatmeal for breakfast (with honey, almond butter & freeze-dried blueberries), plus an emergency dehydrated meal, but the only food we had left that didn't require boiling water was a pair of Larabars and some salted nuts that would be our snack for the long hike back to the car.

As there was no precipitation predicted overnight, we dropped the tarp over the tent before we went to bed to give ourselves an easier time packing up camp in the morning. We'd hoped to be on the trail by 9am, as we were planning on taking a longer route out of the park (though one that would see us on less challenging terrain). Rolling in around 10:30pm with fingers crossed we'd be able to use the stove in the morning, I set an alarm for 7am...and then woke up at 5:20am - 15mins before sunrise - needing to pee, and then had to pick up the camera from the tent before heading down the hill to the beach to take some shots of the mist on the water.

I went back to bed, waking up to my watch alarm at 7am and a groan of agony from Tanker - the poor lad's back had decided it wasn't having any of this camping business, and was giving him hell. Between that and a nasty chill in the air, we decided on another half hour of sleep. 

Getting up and at 'em, we hit another snag - the pump leather tore off the plunger the moment I tried to pull it out to pump up the stove. It took a few minutes and a tent peg to get it out of the pump body, then we had to figure out what to do.

I pulled out the old leather from our garbage bag, as it was less blown out than the new one. I grabbed my Leatherman and used it to cut a couple of tiny circles of aluminum from the bottom heat/wind shield from the stove bag - we've never used anything under the feet of the stove in the past, so figured we could spare it. I trimmed them to a size that would fit in the tube of the pump body, then worked holes into the middle of each to create a pair of washers. I threaded one on the end of the plunger beside the existing (smaller) washer, then carefully pushed the other one I'd made inside the old pump leather. I put it on the plunger, then carefully tightened the nut down so the leather was sandwiched between the two new washers.

This was all a bit much before I'd even had a cup of coffee (or put pants on).

Carefully inserting the reassembled plunger into the pump body, I screwed it down and then threaded the pump into the fuel bottle. Thankfully, it worked! I hated that I could feel the edge of the first new washer scrape against the side of the pump tube if I didn't push the plunger in completely straight, but we were able to build plenty of pressure to boil water for our coffee and oatmeal.

Sweet, glorious FLAME!

BREFFUS!

Crisis averted - got my coffee!

We got camp packed up, then hit another snag - poor Tanker had become badly dehydrated, to the point of stomach cramps. We also had much less filtered water on hand than we had thought; about 2L instead of more than 4L.

Hydration: it's important!

So, we pulled out the gravity filter and hung it up, fortunately not having to wait long for it to fill our nalgenes and a water bladder to bring with us. Tank kept sucking down fluids, and we managed to get on the trail by just before 11am.

Much different view when it's not pissing rain!

We hiked back over the big hump of the west side of the Tetsmine loop, then struck east toward Lynch Lake to catch the easier trails down the west side of the Hemlock Lake and Little Clear Lake loops, then make our way out along Big Salmon Lake.

This led us past this lovely waterfall.

But it certainly wasn't all easy rolling.

Fortunately Tanker was feeling better - he stepped a bit funny at one point and his back clicked itself into a more comfortable position - and my legs were cooperating, so we made pretty good time through the hot, sunny day.

While still taking time to appreciate the rugged beauty of the park.

While we hadn't seen much wildlife around yet - just some frogs, toads, fish and loons, plus the millions of mosquitoes and blackflies that had emerged in the prior day's sun. Today was different: we saw our first dragonflies (yes please - go eat all the biting things!), grasshoppers, and more frogs, plus turtles sunning themselves on logs and some juvenile garter snakes slithering through the grass beside the trail.

Vivid garter snake

Leopard frog

 We rambled on toward the trailhead, getting very sweaty, tired and sore but still enjoying the incredible scenery.

Well, when some dork wasn't getting in the way.

Much better.

 With sore feet and soaked backs we arrived back at the junction of the Big Salmon Lake and Arkon Lake loops, then crossed the bridge back over and wandered the last few hundred metres to the Big Salmon Lake launch and up to the parking lot.

This map shows all of the trail loops in the park
From the Friends of Frontenac website

We've called this the "turtle bridge" since our first backpacking trip here in 2015.

It may have been less technical, but it was still no cake walk to get out!
Full details available here.

We arrived back at exactly 3:01pm - precisely 48hrs after our departure on Saturday afternoon. I'm grateful that my legs were able to sustain me through the trek, and thankful that I have sturdy trekking poles to help them along. Despite some challenges, we'd had a wonderful trip; even saw a couple of deer beside Salmon Lake Road on our way out! We truly love this park, and hope to return again and again to explore the last few places we have yet to see, plus revisit some of our favourites. While I'm sad I didn't get to run in the park, I'm delighted that I got to share the whole weekend with my darling instead.

Good times!