Stagger on regardless

 Saturday did not go well for me.

It's actually been rather a crap week since, but for different reasons.

I had got to bed very late on Friday, and - as follows - woke up exhausted and a bit later than I could really make jive with running down to the market. I mean, it was only 9:30am...but I'm a little creaky in the morning, and it takes me around an hour and a half just to get out the door, and over and hour to run down there. The market closes at 1pm. The math was definitely not on my side, so we just got up and drove down there to get our groceries instead.

I am trying to build a bit of mileage now that the 100 in 100 is over, so I wanted to get at least 10mi in, and I knew a place that would be easy to do so: Dundas Valley. I hadn't been down there since Leftovers back in November, and we have a membership with Hamilton Conservation until early May, so it seemed ideal. I knew that 10mi there wouldn't come easy, though (and I secretly hoped to get more like 20km in), so I would need to equip myself for up to 3-ish hours of trail time. That meant filling up my hydration pack, and lots of snacks.

Oh, and spikes. Definitely spikes.

I went to put the full bladder into my pack, and discovered it was leaking from the quick-disconnect valve where the hose meets the bladder. Not bueno; it wasn't below freezing, but I still didn't want my precious hydration escaping and soaking my back. I have another bladder - which does have its own hose, but it's absurdly long, and I don't like the drinking valve on it - with the same quick-disconnect, so I tried filling it and snapping in the hose. Success! It popped in like it was made for it, so off we went...after grabbing a headlamp as well, because we were well past the time I had wanted to leave, and I'd be up against it to finish up before dark.

Of course the portajohn was gone from the parking lot, and the trail centre was closed despite it not being quite 4pm yet

Emerging from the car, I was happy I'd grabbed a fleece skirt to wear over my tights, and had packed a wind jacket in my bag - the sun was disappearing behind thin cloudcover, and the wind had picked up significantly. I donned my spikes, realizing I'd brought the multiply-broken set instead of the nearly brand-new ones I'd bought in case I was going to do something "a little longer, like a Sulphur loop", 'cause I'm smart like that. Then I trotted off into the trails, grateful I had any kind of traction at all on the glare ice.

I'm one of the only people I saw there who did, and let me tell you the others didn't fare too well.

Not having been down at DVCA for anything other than a race in quite awhile, I took the luxury of hooking right onto the Deer Run, which quite often lives up to its name. I'd not gone a kilometer yet and rather needed to find a quiet spot to, umm, add some nitrogen and phosphorus to the local ecology. Plus, I was thirsty - doesn't that always seem to be the way? All the hydration problems at once! So, I grabbed my hose and took a good long pull of...air?

I tried again, with more vigour. I got more air. I came to the spot where the trail splits, where a 4x4 post with a location marker is driven into the ground, and hung my pack up on the post. It seems the male connector of my hose wasn't quite long enough to depress the spring that actually releases the water from the bladder in the quick-connect valve; when I tried to push it in further, it began to leak, and wouldn't stay anyway.

I had no water. I was getting chilled by the wind as I was dressed for a run, not standing in the damp, melting woods with the wind blowing over the snowpack. I was despondent, and strongly considered just messaging Tank to tell him I give the heck up, then going home and hiding under a blanket fort for the rest of the day.

I did not do that. 

I did message Tank to say I had a problem, and started running back toward the trail centre, where I met up with him. I explained the issue, and my proposed solution: instead of one long loop, I'd grab my bike bottle out of the car - the one I always bring along, from which you've probably seen me drink a million times if we've hung out together anywhere other than on an actual race course - and just carry it with me, looping back to the car to refill from the giant 1.5L nalgene of water we brought along with us.

That one, with the Brooks "Run Happy" rubber bracelet around the top

Tank gave me the car key and said he'd wait for me, so I ran back to the parking lot, ditched the useless bladder, filled my bottle, and left a single door unlocked in case I needed to refill and he wasn't back from his hike yet. I'd already tried the spigot by the tracks, and it was (as expected) still shut off for the winter. I knew that carrying my bottle with no strap or anything was going to suck, and I had lost even more daylight, but damnit I wasn't ready to give up!

A change of plans is not a failure - refusing to adapt is.

There were sights to see!

I bopped around the main loop until the Heritage Trail, noting that now the main Bruce Trail seems to head that was instead of continuing around the main loop (which is now considered side trail, with blue blazes). Not sure when that happened, but I knew where I wanted to go anyway!

..and stood at least a 60% chance of getting there without sliding off a cliff.

Fortunately my spikes held up on the ice, and I made it to Canterbury Falls without incident. 

Though I declined to go wandering out onto the sketchy rock that gives the best view due to icy conditions and my spikes not affording much grip on bare stone

I slurped back a maple syrup based gel packet as I paused to listen to the rushing water beneath the ice, then got on my way. I wasn't enjoying carrying the bottle: it made it awkward to take photos as I don't like having both my hands full, and my right thumb gets cranky if I have to grip anything for any length of time, but it was better than no water.

Or no run!

For my next trick, I would try not to die while descending a set of iced up stairs in the woods.

But not that kind of stairs in the woods

Not without reason - at the other end of these (plus over a couple of hundred metres of rather gnarly, rocky trail) lies gold!

Behold Sherman Falls!

I noted that I'd now drained more than half of my bottle of water, so should probably head back to the car post-haste to refill. I also noted that the wooden bridge spanning the stream below the falls - which had been closed when last I was there - was now completely gone!

More's the pity - it had the absolute best view of the falls

I had planned to just book it down Artaban Road and hit the Monarch Trail back to the main loop, as I knew the Sulphur Creek crossover trail would likely be icy death and falling into a ravine full of fallen trees and broken limbs was definitely not the icing I wished to add to my cake of disappointments for the day. As I passed by it, though, it didn't look so bad..

I remembered at Leftovers it seemed some reconstruction work had made the whole thing a bit less narrow and sketchy, too

So - for no good reason at all - I went for it. 

Things did not improve as I descended.

WHYYYY

I don't mind running down an icy surface in my spikes - you land with approximately three times your bodyweight when running downhill, so those steel points are driven into the crust and provide excellent traction. This is much less the case if you're trying to gingerly pick your way down. 

And that whole "wider and less sketchy thing" was apparently very much wrong

The worst was the last section, where there weren't even any exposed roots - just the occasional tree to cling to, as I've done in the past when it was mud slicking the hill instead of ice. Trying to carefully kick my spikes into the ice with one foot, while also trying not to move too much weight off the uphill foot that is still holding..

Yeah, I'm a weenie. I know this. I accept this.

I did manage to make it down without falling - or even resorting to butt sliding, which is always an option on the table - and onto the bridge over Sulphur Creek below.

Didn't die!

At this point, I just had to climb the river of ice that was the Sulphur Creek Trail, survive another steep downhill on an unknown surface, then I'd be back on the main loop quite close to the car. I was almost out of water, so I tried to hustle as best I could.

On terrain not well suited to hustling

The sun actually came out as I crested the highest point, and began a muddy descent on the far side.

Deep breath

It was quite astonishing how much melting had happened at the higher elevations in the park, compared with the hard plate of ice in other spots.

Sometimes only a handful of metres apart

Back to the main loop and out past the trail centre, I found Tank already back at the car...but I'd only done 10km, and the sun was dropping fast.

Though I did finally get my lap in on the Deer Run!

I scarfed back a little Halloween packet of fuzzy peaches (which turned out to be much smaller than the proper ones, and much harder despite having been kept warm in a pocket against my chest), filled my bottle, then ran away again.

With the golden sun lighting up the Spring Creek Trail

The universe wasn't cooperative, but I was getting it done!

I tried to draw on my knowledge of the Tally in the Valley course for my next loop, but knew I didn't want to do either the rail trail or an out-and-back if I could avoid it...so I hit the John White Trail over to Sawmill, and looped back around that way.

The pine forest on Sawmill is a much different place in winter!

Of course I hit mud as I reached the top of a hill, and had to hope my spikes would hold..

I think the only time I've had a non-muddy run at Dundas Valley was a Sulphur training run at -15c

My spikes held, all right - held 10lbs of mud apiece!

I could only pray there was enough of the spikes sticking out to grip the ice that was to come, as that mud did not want to come out!

The sun had all but set as I came through another section of pine forest, very gloomy in the fading daylight..

Not enough to need a headlamp yet, but getting close

Emerging into more open, deciduous forest again, I was surprised to find I wasn't the only one on the trails!

I could only get a lousy photo of her, and even worse ones of her 3 companions

Back to the car again as I'd somehow managed to drink 3/4 of my bottle in just 4km, and I still needed another 2k as I was bloody well set on getting 10mi in! With one last full bottle, a sore hand from carrying it, and a sore ankle from the beating it had taken on the lumpy ice all afternoon, I trotted past the trail centre one more time to hit the main loop in the opposite (clockwise) direction from which I'd started. I ended up at a spot past the end of the Sulpur Creek Trail that I'm not sure I've ever been to before.

Though it's clearly a popular spot

..and I can see why!

I turned around there, knowing I'd get the mileage I wanted by the time I got back, and as I forced my tired legs into a run I once more heard a distinctive jingle from my right foot. I'd broken another stinkin' link in my spikes!

It's always the same spot - this is the 3rd link to go

Twilight was falling as I reached the parking lot: another 5 minutes and I'd have needed the headlamp I'd carried with me all day, and I'd already been tempted to throw on my wind jacket as the temperature had dropped. I was muddy, smelled terrible, and was both sore and exhausted...but I got 16.5km in, and didn't give up.

Also: saw pretty things!

Not every day is going to go your way, but you always have a choice: you can let it derail you entirely, or you can find a way 'round. It certainly wasn't the run I had in mind when I planned to hit Dundas Valley, but it certainly was an adventure!

Failures

 We all have stuff we rely on.

Like the sun going down in the evening, and returning the next morning
(well, except at extreme latitudes)

Last Saturday, I had three things I depend on pretty heavily let me down. The first was my Garmin, which had actually started messing up on Thursday: I had plugged it into my laptop to clear out the old workout data, and an update had installed via Garmin Express. Cool, cool...except when I ran afterward, I got some seriously funky data out of it.

Those blue bits on the map? My watch apparently thought I was stopped, though it kept recording my progress and position.
You can also see dots in the bottom part that indicate it was taking cadence readings...but they were all zero, despite my daily step count increasing steadily through the run

I had hoped it was just a freak thing and would resolve itself, but come Saturday morning it was still pulling the same crap.

I didn't notice until later that it had also messed up a couple of other daily metrics like sleep and energy tracking from Thursday afternoon to Saturday

Fortunately, I don't put that much stock in my Garmin data, and it all resolved after I plugged it back in to my laptop and it installed another update. This took a bit of time and was a little frustrating, but was definitely the least clutch of the failures.

That run down to the market Saturday morning? It caused a much more concerning failure: my phone.

Source of almost 100% of the photos I post, here and anywhere else

It was a frosty one - base air temperature of -20c (-4f) with windchill of -28c (-18f). I was bundled up pretty solidly, and was keeping my phone in the back pocket of my jacket to keep it warm.

My mainstay winter running jackets (I have both red and black of the same model/year) are intended to be cycling jackets, and have cycling jersey-like pockets at the lower back, which is one of the warmest and best protected places to keep anything in extreme cold weather

I was running down the multi-use trail portion beside a roadway with forest on the far side, and saw a huge whitetail deer go bounding out of the woods, across the road, and toward the river just before the trail veers off into trees. I paused at the spot to see if I could find the deer on the wetland plain, taking a shot of the tracks where it had crossed the paved path but unable to see the majestic creature itself.

You can tell by the splaying of its hooves how heavily it had landed, and on the right you can see some of the myriad other tracks I found just a few feet away

I also flipped the camera around to get a shot of my own frosted-up face.

I'd only been out about 30mins so far

..and then my phone shut down. That's not unusual in deep cold: once I get it warmed back up, it's generally just fine. So, I stuck it back in my pocket and kept going. 

I tried pulling it out again a few minutes later, because I wanted to get photos of the most ridiculous ice I think I've ever seen on this particular trail. My screw shoes were struggling trying to bite into the incredibly hard-frozen surface, and as soon as I got my camera app started my phone just noped out again.

I came back later in the day with Tank to show him and get some shots

By leaving it in my pocket for a good 15-20mins while I ran along, I manage to coax it back to life toward the end of my journey so I could snap a pic or two in the brilliant sunshine.

It was a really beautiful day, as long as you were dressed right

While losing a few photo opportunities was frustrating, I wouldn't really count this as a failure if that were the only outcome. However, once I'd re-warmed my poor phone after the run, it was still declining to a) recognize the SD card inserted in it, and b) make noise. The former issue I could probably have lived with, but since my phone is my alarm clock as well as a means of communication, its stubborn silence was worrisome! Restarting hadn't solved it, and I feared that I might have to replace it; it's a bit elderly and certainly not in the best condition, but the device I want to succeed it hasn't been released yet, and I didn't really have time that day to make an attempt anyway.

Fortunately, it found its voice again after I carefully shut it down, left it powered off and plugged in for a few minutes, then said a few encouraging words as it rebooted. This all happened at approximately the same time I sorted out my Garmin, so it seemed like I was good to go for my second run!

Begun just after my walk with Tanker to check out the ice, and about 25 minutes after sunset

I'd worn my full running kit under some warm outer layers for the hike (namely, a down jacket and long insulated skirt that I could easily remove before the run), including my trail shoes and spikes as I'd known I would be on ice. As I set off into the woods from the trailhead at a trot, I soon noticed that my spikes sounded more jingly than usual, and seemed a bit looser than I'd expect. As I ran down a big, ice-covered hill, I was a bit confused by a slight sensation of slip on my right foot: I could hear and feel the spikes biting into the ice, so how could I be slipping? It definitely wasn't confidence inspiring, but it didn't seem to be catastrophic - I still had good traction, and I didn't think there was much I could do in pitch dark at -14c (7f) with nothing but my mittens and a handheld light I was trying out.

Which also made this about the worst possible time for me to have an equipment failure

When I got home, I pulled off my spikes to see what the issue was - a brief inspection of the ones from my right shoe quickly revealed the source of the trouble.

Well there's your problem..

Fortunately - after a bit of a false start - I was able to fashion a replacement link out of a cotter pin.

Far from pretty, but hopefully functional?

I confirmed that I'd got good data from my Garmin from the run, though, so it seemed like I'd managed to sort out all three of the issues that had cropped up! 

I took the repaired spikes out for a test drive on a beautiful Sunday afternoon at Shade's Mills, rambling around the sun-drenched forest and trying to avoid crunching my new link off any protruding rocks on the trails.

It wouldn't occur to me until much later that the deep cold might have been the culprit in the case of the broken link

Fortunately everything seemed to hold up, and I had a really enjoyable run!

Unlike the people I saw there trying to hike without traction devices - they were making rather heavy weather of it

The sunshine was most welcome, as were the milder temperatures - it was still -5c (23f), but that felt nearly tropical compared to the day before.

Though the idea of a dip at the beach wasn't really any more inviting!

I got a second run in after dark, too, on much sketchier trail than I had intended considering I was still unsure about the durability of my makeshift cotter pin link.

#Didn'tDie

I inspected the link carefully again afterward, but it seems to be going strong! I haven't noticed any signs of wear or fatigue on it, but I've ordered another set to be sure - the ones I buy aren't terribly expensive, and I'd rather have a new pair for bigger, higher-risk ventures (though I'll likely keep running in the repaired ones for short, easy-to-bail-from jaunts). 

Their journey isn't at an end just yet

So, while it was frustrating to be feel let down by three devices in one day, I'm pretty pleased I was able to implement solutions that allowed me to continue on using them - even if I may need to be a bit more cautious about a couple of them in future. 

It felt quite apropos to find this scrawled in the beach sand at Shade's Mills on Sunday afternoon

I wish you all a trouble-free weekend - have fun out there, and be safe!