Month: January 2015

Dateline: May 31, 2013, Cumberland, Maryland the night before Tom’s Run

Tom’s Run, a running relay, is held annually to promote fitness, team building, and community.  The event is named in honor of CWO4 Tom Brooks, USCG, who contracted Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) (also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease) in early 1999.  Tom was an avid fitness promoter.  He had a reputation for persuading couch potatoes to get up and get moving.  When Tom was diagnosed with ALS, his friends decided to show their appreciation for the inspiration Tom had given them by organizing this event in his honor. So, Tom’s Run is about people. Tom’s Run is about who we are as runners and teammates and friends.

Jen and her Air Force Medical Service buddies formed a team called the Data Driven Nerds, and they were nice enough to let me be a part of this incredible physical and logistical challenge. Starting at 12:30 am on June 1, we had a biker and a runner on the C&O Canal Towpath, wending east and south toward Washington, DC, supported by the rest of us, in minivans, moving along with them and meeting them at 4-11 mile intervals to switch runners and bikers. Even Baby was assigned a running leg. This went on all day, all night, until we finished, around noon on – oh who knows what day it was- we ran and biked from night into day into and through another night and on into lunchtime the following day.

We shared a room the night before for a couple of hours with Raj, our lead off runner, and Baby, and Morgan. Here is what the dogs thought about our 12 am alarm and wake up call…

It was the last we would see of a bed for days. Our whole team showed up to see Raj off with his cycle companion, Rhonda, for an 11 mile leg at the start of the C&O Canal Trail, only 200 more miles to go:

Jen and I were slated to share a leg, with Jen biking and me running, around 6 am. It was a 4-5 mile leg. Canal towpaths have only a 1 percent grade, and we were going the downhill direction, and I had an easy go of it- finished way before I was expected. I must have been adrenaline fueled. The minivan was home base for the dogs, and they were snoozing while Jen and I were cruising. So fun, our team performing like clockwork- well, kinda, we did have one family with us with a very cute young son, but we learned early that morning, say 2 am, not to follow a minivan with a young child aboard to the next changeover spot- sometimes, parents of young kids deviate from the plans…

The logistics were daunting, even for the Data-Driven Nerds, and our leader, Julie, spent most of the last 3 months doing spreadsheets to assign runners and bikers to the various legs. Of course, 2 people had to back out at the last second, and all her work had to be re-done. She was incredible, and even arranged for us to have a barbecues lunch at a park along the route. Most of us got to spend hours recharging there along the 15 Mile Creek- but not Jen.

Jen was driving the minivan from placed to place all through the afternoon, except for when she was running. And it was HOT. Really hot. Too hot for Baby to run her own leg- Jen had to step in for her.  I was resting all that time and didn’t even have to do any driving. By the time Jen got to the barbecue, we were packing it up… Poor Jen.  Round 6 pm that evening, she had to do her own scheduled 4 mile leg, and I was her biker. It was a gorgeous and shady leg with caves and cliffs on one side, the canal on the other. Jen was exhausted- and I had to talk her through every step of the way, but that is what Tom’s Run is about- team-building. I would have my own meltdown later.

 

Leg after leg, we edged our way closer to Washington. Late evening, sitting in the minivan, waiting to change some runners and bikers, in a parking lot. Next part of the plan was to take advantage of a canal lock-tenders cottage, circa 1830, and rest there. We had to hike, with the dogs, about 2 miles up the towpath to get to it- pitch dark, humid, sweaty. When we arrived, there were coolers of food- but they weren’t ours; somehow we were sharing the cottage with people who weren’t even on Tom’s Run. And though it was midnight, they were noisy, had a bonfire… There were beds upstairs but they were occupied, so we lay down on the wood floor with the dogs… but only for 40 minutes. Because it was my turn to run, I had to get up and hike the two miles back down and go to the next changeover place. It was 2 am, and I am not a night person. I was cranky and complaining that the Lock Tender’s Cottage was not a super idea- I could have stayed in the van.

I couldn’t find my cyclist at the start point; she was sleeping in a van, had skipped the cottage… so as Julie finished her night run, Rhonda went with me and talked me through my run in the middle of the night, 7 miles on an overgrown section of trail with sawgrass cutting up my legs a bit. We got to know each other through good conversation about horses and dogs.  As we finished, no one was waiting for us on the trail, so we walked up to the doors of my red minivan, which had been moved into position- I knocked on the window, and the next runner looked at me and said, “Who are you?” I reminded her that I was Kerry and we were on Tom’s Run and it was her turn.

The next phase was very blurry for me because I was hitting my personal wall. I think there was a lot of punchiness and I think someone needing to go to the bathroom behind the car and walking the dogs? and someone needing to wrest the driving from me- a guy, quietly offering to drive. I became unconscious. When I awoke, we were somewhere in DC, and there was a place to wash up and await the changeover to the final leg- Jen running.

Long story short, Jen and her cyclist went right by the entrance to the park which marks the finish line- and ran an extra 3 miles at least! We were all out looking for them, I was running around, adding miles to my total. Eventually they showed up and we got our medals and congratulated ourselves on a great performance. Maryland bagged, Tom’s Run completed, and if I can find a team willing to take me on again, I would do it. Everything about an endurance relay is challenging- running, biking, driving, staying awake, falling asleep when you should. Exhausting, exhilarating, extreme, excellent. I hear the C&O Canal Trail has been extended all the way to Harrisburg. I’d like to do that section.

 

 

 

Dateline: Middletown, Delaware, August of some forgotten recent year

The White Clay Bicycle Club Shore Fire Century Ride, Metric

Jen Wolf and I tackled this ride together, goodness knows when.  I wasn’t yet 50, but I was plenty old, so we figure it counts! I am starting to worry about the number of states I have left to conquer. I think I was 48 for this one, 2010. I see there are many rides each year from this club, so perhaps, I will return, but I am going to give myself credit for this state for now. I writ-a the blog, I make-a the rules!

This ride was flat, flat, flat, which makes it a good choice for a first long ride. We had tackled 50 miles in the hills of Morris and Somerset New Jersey, but 65 was going to be a stretch for us. We rode steady, high gear, hard as we could. It was a beautiful sunny day, low humidity, not terribly hot until the finish.  Much of the route had been recently “chipped,” which occluded the road arrows and would have made it very difficult to find our way had we not secured the LAST route map at check in. This at 8 am… I guess a lot of people must have awoken to a gorgeous morning and decided to ride. It seemed that millions of wooly bear caterpillars didn’t get the memo about the ride, since for 65 miles, they were crossing the road in vast numbers and often not making it to the other side.  We stopped to help a few. There were good rest stops and lunch was provided by a pizza place along the route. Pizza may not be the best food to eat mid ride, but how could we resist a slice. When cramp set in, we tried pickle juice as a cure, and it worked!

The terrain alternated between farm and subdivision, and many people were out on their porches to wave and cheer riders on. Small towns, quiet streets, local beers, a big ride.  What’s not to like? And with a metric century under my belt, I have the confidence to do a 100 mile ride this year, definitely on to do list for 2015 as I explore America.

 

 

Dateline: October 10-24, Big Island, Hawaii

Hawaii is what’s next. Kip and I spent our honeymoon on Kauai in October 1987, and we haven’t traveled alone together since. Maybe we were spooked because the last time, we flew home on Black Monday, October 19, 1987, into a stock market crash and recession. The whole thing might have been our fault. This time, we decided to give ourselves 2 weeks and spend it exploring every nook and cranny of the Big Island. And with all that a’a lava, there are more nooks and crannies then an English muffin.

As luck would have it, Kip had us flying in the night before Ironman, so we got up on East Coast time and watched the swim start and saw some of the early going on the bike.  We stayed in Kailua- Kona that first night with Barbara, whom we found through Air BnB. Another guest in the home was a 4- time veteran of this World Championships, and she told us how best to view the swim and the first hot corner of the Bike.

A sprint triathlon here would be a wonderful Challenge, but the limitations I knew might crop up as I rack up the states started to wield their influence early. Five days before departure, I was clattered in a soccer game, plowing my right shoulder into the ground, injuring my collar bone. Like, badly. I wasn’t about to waste my time at the ER, so I ordered a brace online for $25 and did 2 sessions of physical therapy at my old office. Jeff seemed pretty darn sure I had fractured it.  I wore the brace 24/7 for the first week in Hawaii and there was no way in hell I could ride a bike or swim distance. I tried to follow a fish snorkeling on day 2 or 3 and was brought up short in considerable pain. Ok, I thought, wear the brace, the sling, take advil round the clock, protect your ability to hike. Don’t blow that.

Hiking went well- So well that my dream of summiting Mauna Kea seemed a real probability…

Until we got to 9200 feet, after a warm up hike at 7000 ft. along the Saddle Road.

Kip has been having altitude sickness for some years now, and it was pretty scary on Mt Washington. The Ellison Onizuka Visitor’s Center, at 9,200 ft, is the acclimitization point for any Mauna Kea summit hike, and we were there at 12:30 pm, a perfect weather day. Deteriorating weather was expected the next couple days- we said- ok, go for it. I changed my clothes, I was going to go, Kip was going to drive me down- but… I got to thinking.  I was alone… He wasn’t sure he could get the front wheel drive car to the summit  or be in any condition to drive down, and I couldn’t hike it in both directions before dark. I said NO GO.

Thank God. We drove down- he was not acting right, then felt ill, then passed out as we went rapidly to sea level in Hilo. After that day, every time we dropped altitude, he was sick. My summit dreams were not going to be reality, especially once Hurricane Ana hit, bringing snow to the summits of Maunas Kea and Loa.  I was determined  to regroup and find something else. Meanwhile, we weren’t exactly suffering or sitting around. Hawaii wow’d us at every turn.

More roadblocks in my search for the Big Island Challenge- the Kilauea Rim Trail  was closed due to volcanic fumes- that would have been a 10 miler, but fatal, which kills the buzz. The Red Hill Trail is too high for Kip. On the Saturday, with the Park closed and the 5k up in HonoKa’a canceled, I found a rain forest trail that required almost no driving. We did it in water and mud up nearly to our knees, during a hurricane, while most everyone sat indoors.

That’s something. It was listed as almost 5 miles- but it was short of that I’m sure. Is it enough? I may need an impartial judge. Tomorrow we could go back to Saddle Road and do a hike at 5,000 feet- but I don’t know if Kip will want to drive there. We should head south. We could go south and tour a coffee farm and perhaps I could run or hike the Cane Haul Road, but its right on the southeast coast where the hurricane hit. And my sneakers are filled with rainforest mud.

I was pining after that mountain, but not anymore. It’s ok, really, I am so much more flexible than I was last time I came to this state. On my honeymoon, I actually threw a golf club in the general and nearly specific direction of my new husband’s head- because I was mad at myself for sucking at golf. It was, of course, my first time on a golf course. I had zero sense of humor at 25 apparently. I may be older now, but maybe I’m somewhat less of an idiot. Let me ask around!

10/19 I have seen the Cane Haul Road-  I think this is IT but its 17 miles long so we  decided on 10 k for me tomorrow.  I love these highways that time forgot, like the National Road, on my trip to St. Louis.

…Unfortunately we couldn’t find the Cane Haul Road from the other direction. Kip let me out on a road of the same name but after a mile it dumped me back on the highway. After 1.5 more miles of running, Kip had me turn onto a dead -ended road and all flow was lost. I did 5 k. As much as I could with a bum stomach in 91 degree heat and a collar bone brace. I stopped at one point to rescue a monarch butterfly that was exhausted on the shoulder of the road. That made two of us.

I did the minimum, 5k, but… I didn’t feel I had really bagged the state. It was bugging me.

We arrived in Captain Cook and started snorkeling, living in a lovely cottage on a macadamia nut farm. The couple that owned it were both psychologists, Heide an artist, and Jeffery an excellent ping pong player. He gave us both a lesson.

I looked at loop hikes and run walks. I was running out of time, obsessed with the Challenge.  Wednesday morning, the 22nd, we got up and did a 2 mile hike to the Captain Cook Memorial snorkeling grounds, then after over an hour of reefs and fishes, including a radically cool peacock flounder, we hiked back up the cliff.

It was pretty tough as morning hikes go.  But everything is so beautiful here, it’s inspirational.

We had thai food and did our shopping

came back to the cabin and had rum and oj in the gazebo. I found a run- thought it would do, felt good, went down alone to clock it. It was a rolling sine curve right along the water, route 160, single lane, linking Napo’opo’o Park and the Place of Refuge. Two important points in Hawaiian history and 2 places we have snorkeled. Perfect- and over 7 miles. Temp low to mid 80s, no sun.

I started out, water bottle in hand, slippery with sunscreen. It was driving me nuts. Somewhere along the way I opened my fanny pack and threw all my change out on the road. Little things getting to me, (probably because I had already started drinking!) but the first half went well enough. Stopped at a small beach for a couple minutes and drank from infernal water bottle. Dumped it on the way back and carried home the empty.

It was hard after 5-6 miles. I had not trained much in a while, what with the collar bone and all. The climbs just kept coming and the ribbon of highway straight ahead undulating like a snake over the mounds of old lava. When I finally crested the final hill I saw a USGS marker on the rock and it said 816 feet. The run had listed 250 feet of climb. I say it’s 1600! Finished up tired, dragging, but satisfied. I visited the Place of Refuge at sunset and snorkeled at neighboring 2 steps- saw a green turtle- she slipped under the coral and hid away like a garaged car. I felt privileged- no, blessed.

I saw a woman ladling stew and rice out of two huge aluminum pots balanced on the tailgate of a pick up truck. I told her about the turtle who shared my sunset swim and then tucked itself away safely at home. She smiled broadly and said, “Thank you for telling that story.” Hawaiians call it Talking Story. I hiked 4 miles, snorkeled over an hour, ran 7 miles, and had an authentic Hawaiian experience with a native family, living life the Hawaiian way. Today I found my challenge and I have bagged this state-and learned a lot and seen this island from all vantage points.

I cannot describe and these photos can’t capture the beauty that is The Big Island. I focused mostly on my quest to bag the state, but we were on- island 2 weeks and we did SO much more. Put this island at the top of your bucket list and email me before you go and I can help you find the best places to stay and the most awesome things to do. I really want to return.  Take me with you!

“And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”  TS Eliot

1) Maine, August 2014- 12 mile kayak paddle around Southport Island

2) New Hampshire, August 2014- Mt. Washington ascent

3) Ohio, September, 2014- 32 mile Tour De Donut Bike Race

4) Indiana, September, 2014- 10+ mile hike, Three Lakes Trail

5) Missouri, September 2014- 10 mile March to the Arch

6) Illinois, September 2014- 41 mile bike, Sam Vadalabene Trail

7) Hawaii, October 2014, 4 mile hike, 1 hr snorkel, 7 mile run, Captain Cook, Hawaii

8) Delaware, August 2010, Shore Fire Century 65 Mile Cycle

9) Maryland, June 2013, Tom’s Run- 200 Mile Relay

10) New York, October 2013, Avon Walk for Breast Cancer

11) Vermont, February 2015, Prospect Mountain 4k Snowshoe Race

12) Alabama, March, 2015, 50th Anniversary March, Selma to Montgomery

13) Pennsylvania, June, 2015, Habitat for Humanity 4 Day Ride for Homes

14) Connecticut, June 2015, Cedar Lake Sprint Triathlon Series

15) Rhode Island, August 2015, North Country 50

16) Massachusetts, October 2015, Mt. Greylock Climb

Dateline: Clayton, Missouri, September 14, 2014

9/14 I’m homeward bound, gorgeous day, a bit nervous. I don’t know why I’m nervous, but I feel the gravitational pull of New Jersey, where Laura is about to fly out to Chile to teach English. I need to see her. But I am thrilled to have had this chance to spend time with Emily at school. And of course, there’s all that other stuff. It’s been a wonderful trip, in so many ways.

The Arch looms close to the highway and bids me farewell with ever changing shape and the sunlight gleaming on its lower edge. I tootle along, listening to the Burgess Boys, a family more dysfunctional than most. This is one long book for one long road trip. I have a thought- and plug Dayton into the gps and decide to meet Jen for lunch- 387 miles in. It’s a chance to stretch my legs and spend a bit more time with her. Long gone are the days in 2010 when she lived with us for a summer working at the NJ Department of Health while gaining her certification in Preventive Medicine.

We get black bean wraps and ice cream and the food makes me sleepy. My second book on tape proves dull, so I crank up the a/c and the radio, wake up, and log 300 more miles.

Coffee and gas in Somerset, hard by Shankesville Rd., then I go through the toughest sections, curves, tunnels, a little hairy in the dark but I’m alert. The Pennsylvania portion of this trip is really not a highway. I make Harrisburg, then Hershey, and I know I’m going straight through. If I stop to sleep I’m just going to stare at the alarm clock, and what’s the point in that?

Sudden red ! on the dashboard and I’m thinking back to the spectral guy with the dustpan and broom at the Somerset Rest Stop, in the parking space RIGHT NEXT to MINE, sweeping up glass. The dash is yelling MAINTENANCE REQUIRED ! and I’m thinking, “What do you want from me? I gave you two new tires, I gave you a new battery in your key fob, I gave you nice gas to drink, I’m driving you smoothly, please don’t have a flat or stop running out here it’s very late and I just need a little consideration from you…”

Ok so I’m rattled, but the car is humming along getting 42 mpg.  I push for home, singing lustily with the radio, willing the car along, threatening to keep singing if it stops. I ditch the highway at Lamington Rd., take my first trip over the new 202 bridge, and amble in the drive at 12:30 am.

954.6 miles. No pain, no where. Incredible that. The dog won’t look at me and I’m wired, don’t get much sleep, but I set out across this great land and reached and crossed the wide Missouri and the Big Muddy, and the wild west awaits. The open road calls. The sun is up and so am I. What’s next?

 

                                         Alton, Illinois to Pere Marquette State Park- and Back

Dateline: Alton, Illinois, September 13, 2014

What a day- get up before the alarm, get breakfast, haul bike downstairs, and the key fob is dead! Not just mostly dead, DEAD. No way to start the car. No key to put in the ignition and go.  No back up system. I yearn for the old days. Now a new activity comes to the fore.

I start calling dealerships and leaving messages. Meanwhile, the hotel manager, Kashif, arrives for his day, and immediately says, “You don’t need a dealer. We will take care of this for you. I need my coffee, but don’t worry, I will fix this.” An engineer by trade, he gets his hotel up and running and then takes my key to Walgreens and buys me a battery, puts it all back together, and in the time it took me to eat breakfast, he has put Illinois back in play for me. Just the first person of many to go out of their way to help me on this special day. I don’t think this happens in NYC.

I decide to go for it, heading for Pere Marquette State Park, Illinois, for a 40 mile out and back ride on the Sam Vadalabene (Ba-da-Bing!) Trail. I cross the Missouri and Mississippi rivers- and find the southern terminus and after the inevitable false starts and difficulty finding the trail (inevitable for me…) I start up in the shade,  only 42 degrees, strong headwind.

 

The trail was muddy in spots and not well maintained in the early going. Slightly uphill, right along the Mississipppi. Limestone bluffs to my right.

Eventually, I made it to a town, seemed too early, and of course there was a sign for Visitors’ Center, supposedly my destination, but it was  just for the town- nothing for the park. All bikes were supposed to stick to the trail. I tried, but was right along the river maybe, couldn’t find it and the water was high.  I returned to the road, losing time, then saw the trail and birds and flooded wetland, and I went right through it and got my feet wet in the bathtub warm Mississippi. Felt like a little kid.

As I approached the park, 17 miles in, I got the first real hill (short, but I felt it), and a few other bikers. Made the park and the Mississippi’s confluence with the Illinois river in 4.5 miles and stopped along the river to talk to some birders, who were on purple martins, and there were egrets as well.

Beautiful cool windy day.   I felt the urge to really push myself as I headed back, riding hard, think I made 20.4 miles in around an hour and a half- saw 4 huge fish jump up right next to me along the 8 mile stretch of shared roadway, and a procession of great blue herons. Got to the Haselton point of This Needs to End- and then it did. Illinois bagged.

I hopped back in the car, tired, happy, drove back to the hotel, gave the car to Dante- washed up, got ready to meet Emily for a late-ish lunch. Dante brought the car up and said, “It feels rough…” And we looked, and the right front tire was completely flat. Flopping.

Immediately Dante said, “I’ll change that,” but he couldn’t get the lug nuts to turn and the jack was dry. I called AAA, and they came in 10 minutes, and I was just thanking my lucky stars I didn’t have a blowout and die. A Missouri family overheard my troubles and gave me the name and phone number of the nearest tire place. Two new tires later, I finally met up with Em- after 4 pm. We shared delicious chinese food at a storefront restaurant and famous Ted Drewes ice cream and spent the rest of our time together shopping for hot sauce and coffee for Kashif to thank him for making the whole day possible. I dropped her off at University City, crawled home, showered, had a glass of wine, 5 cookies for dinner and the day was done. I am the fortunate one.

There are some very nice people in this world. Never forget that.

Dateline: September 12, 2014, St. Louis, Missouri

I dozed until an unheard of 8 am because the room was so dark I couldn’t get a sense of time- decided not to try to ride the bike in Illinois with such a late start-and it is downright chilly- in the 50s with mist and a steady river wind. It’s museum day! But not before I prove just how dark the room is when I turn off the lights to conserve power (coal trains running full here) and trip over the bicycle and nearly break a full length mirror in my handicap accessible room. Almost needed it there!

 

I drove over to Forest Park, the site of the World’s Fair, held in St. Louis in the early 1900s. It is bigger than Central Park, full of museums and zoos that are FREE. I spent 2.5 hrs at the fantastic Missouri History Museum and only saw the half of it.

St. Louis sits at the confluence of the Mississippi and the Missouri (remember the nude statue?) and so it was a huge center of trade in furs, lumber, and, yes, slaves. I’m writing many months after being at the museum, and I have forgotten way more than I remember, but it was fascinating. I had just finished reading Mrs. Lincoln’s Dressmaker, so the fact that they had an audio of Elizabeth Keckley’s voice was stunning to me.

So hungry I could learn no more, I texted Emily, who was psyched to go for lunch. We headed to the Loop, a wonderful, walkable, eclectic neighborhood with every cuisine you could covet, and I succumbed to the regional pressure and dived into succulent ribs with a popover and 2 salads and ate every bite.

We walked back to Em’s apartment in University Heights and I met all her closest buddies and we had a nice chat. Em had work to do and has her own life to lead so I let her off the hook and went to the Art Museum and did a solid hour of European painting until I couldn’t appreciate another brushstroke.

I don’t want to bore you with paintings but suffice to say, it was very hard to choose only a few. I finished my Forest Park day at 5 pm at the JFK Memorial Forest, with a short walk in the last remaining forest in the park. Home to my room in Clayton, emails from referees for my women’s soccer team, talk with Kip, problems with taxes, life intruding on this solo time. It’s almost time to go home. Hoping for Illinois tomorrow- I don’t want to overstay my welcome with Emily though I love this hotel and I could get used to living in this wonderful city.

 

Dateline: St. Louis, Missouri, September 11, 2014

9/10 Woke to threat of rain. Decided to head for St Louis 100 miles distant so got extra night in Clayton. Rain came, plenty of rain, so I left the interstate and drove highway 40 as much as possible, stopped on a section of National Road and at a deserted gas station

arriving for an early check in at the fabulous Hampton Inn Clayton- St. Louis -Galleria area. This hotel is brand new and the people are soo nice. Anyway hope to see my youngest daughter, Emily, tonight. She went back to school in July to take a couple of summer courses and so I haven’t seen her for 2 months already. She tends to be a woman of few words so it’s hard to tell from this text how excited she is to learn I’m in St. Louis a day early: “Okay well I have class until 2:30 and I have to take a quiz at 6:30.” But she’s excited I’m sure.

I did get to see her I just came over and visited and gave her the treats I had brought, told her my tales of the road.  I’m not sure what I’ll do for my Missouri challenge but I’m hoping she’ll join me.

September 11- Up early and watching tv, I learned of a 21 mile March to the Arch starting at 9:11 am. I knew I had found my challenge, but I couldn’t think how I would get to the start and back- didn’t know there were shuttles and didn’t want to miss a whole day with Em- so I did what all moms do when they visit their kids at college- I went for groceries. I got all the staples and even some pots, and I kept it all in the car and returned to the hotel, still yearning to March to the Arch. Here is a description of how the March got started, from the website of St. Louis Public Radio:

“The annual Sept. 11 March to the Arch started in 2002 when Bo Drochelman took the American flag from the front porch of his Kirkwood home and walked to the Gateway Arch.

“It wasn’t well planned, I can tell you that,” Drochelman said. He wanted to do something that would honor those who died on Sept. 11, 2001, and was a personal sacrifice. So he left a note for his wife, and started walking.

Perfect- I didn’t have a plan either, but here I was, in St. Louis, on September 11, and that became my plan. I consulted with basically the entire hotel staff and called Bo Drochelman on his cell phone. He said, “Yup, we are marching,” and gave me an approximate time to catch up with them near my hotel. I grabbed my little American flag out of the back seat of my car and took the hotel shuttle to the 10 mile point and  met up with the group, led by this ebullient and incredibly fit retired Marine. It was just about noon. I called my daughter, who said she would try to meet us when she got out of class.

I met a lot of fellow marchers: Maria, a woman about my age, grown kids, on her second March to the Arch, and she told me she is in the same place in her life, wanting to achieve something for herself, now that her 5 kids (5!) don’t need her in the same way. This quest strikes a chord in everyone I speak to.  I think I may be onto something. Peter, who carried my blue shirt and Em’s t shirt the whole way. Kevin from Kearny, NJ.  Chris, a first time marathoner, young father. Dana and Arlene, both significantly overweight, both doing the full 21 mile distance, who together have lost 80 lbs. since January- one of them a retired marine. They were hurting, but such an inspiration.

Met up with Em, who had to hustle and there was understandable confusion about the meeting place for two moving targets. I had to wait for her, then we both had to hustle, catching up with the others at the Missouri History Museum rest stop. Em hadn’t eaten anything all day, but a fellow marcher kindly gave her a banana and a power bar. She did 7 miles plus the long walk to meet up with us.

We met Sarah, a physician’s assistant who has worked with homeless girls. Shared much of the walk with her. She was herself a Washington University grad and a lifelong St. Louisan so she added much to our understanding of the buildings we were seeing.

Many drivers honked and waved, people on the street were cheering for us, and our group of about 200 marchers steadily advanced to the Arch, despite the pain in our arches.

At some point in every “dreadful hike,” there comes the point when it is just time for it to be over, and when Emily hit her stride and started passing everyone, I knew what she was thinking. Sarah caught up with us with difficulty and told us about some historic sights, including a nude fountain, the two major figures representing the Mississippi and the Missouri, the great confluence that is St. Louis.  I said, “Which is the man and which the woman?” Sarah said “Well you can got over closer and check if you need to.”  I said, “No that isn’t what I mean- which river is male, which female?” And when that is incredibly funny, you know you are incredibly punchy.

The Arch became more and more impressive as we approached:

It’s taller than the Empire State Building and truly stupendous. Upon arrival, we all touched the Arch, and a singer who sings the National Anthem for the St Louis Blues sang it for us.  Next, we all sang God Bless America and  shared a moment of pride in our accomplishment and our unity.

Exhausted, Emily and I took the subway back to my hotel, unloaded the groceries at her apartment, and tried to eat dinner at Barcelona, but Emily was holding up the wall of the restaurant with her head and I was falling asleep in the chair. A fitting tribute to our 9/11 heroes, a solid challenge met, another state in the bag, and something I hope to share with my daughter again in 2015.

Dateline: Martinsville, Indiana, September 9, 2014

Ok so,

We got up at 6 and loaded the car and I headed off to Morgan-Monroe State Forest south of Martinsville, IN. Target- the 3 Lakes Trail. There are now only 2 lakes because the dam broke on one- but I was not to be denied as you will soon see. I signed the log and started out, counterclockwise, and paused at times to look for birds. Before starting I had some kind of flycatcher and I got a good bird early- white eye ring dark eye secretive perhaps an ovenbird or a hermit or wood thrush. Trail easy, slate, dry stream beds, everything fine and I reached the second and last lake figured I was halfway ish.

Second half harder with ups and downs. At some point I stopped- tiny thorn in left shoe a la the classic children’s story, Andy and the Lion. I could feel it downhill so I stopped and pulled it out, didn’t really find a place to sit, turned to try leaning against 2 posts, looked at a low log…. Traveling on, soon I saw something I swore I’d seen before- a log cut out to make a step, a pile of wood chunks to one side- had been the left, was now the right. I actually stopped to look at it to see if the chips were the same, they kind of looked it because I had been thinking of taking one as a souvenir. Nah I thought…

And I went into another section of ups and downs- saw 2 women with loose dogs, one startled me, I startled him, and he was hackling. I almost asked them how far from the start they were, but didn’t. Then I hit a flat spot, had the distinct 10 mile feeling I was coming to the end, saw a road, crossed it… And then saw a third lake, looked a lot like the second lake, only I was approaching it from the opposite side… The trail does not parallel itself anywhere- I saw the same guy fishing the same spit on the dam, and then, I saw the arched branch in the water- Yogi Berra and Chevy Chase, deja vu and lampoon, I had blown it.

And to think I spent much of my solitude remarking (to myself, of course) that the trail was SO much better marked than Jockey Hollow… I decided to continue with the double back because it was the easier side and I knew what I faced (though I knew a hell of a lot about the other side too 🙂 and I was happy I had brought 2 waters. I forgot the food, but I don’t need food, I ate 6 donuts not too long ago. I was mad at myself briefly but I’m fit and no harm and it is soooo typical. It’s better to laugh at yourself than beat yourself up, right? Right.

I was out for over 5 hrs. I did experience much of that area of Indiana- twice. stopped on route 40 for dinner at the Cornerstone Inn for fish and chips and a heinekin- very good.

 

 

 

 

9/7/2014 I spent a couple of days in Ohio with Jen and had the opportunity to enrich my life and others’ lives just by slowing down, taking the time to show interest, get involved.  I call these sorts of days Red Letter Days. In recounting them here, I also get a chance to suggest some places you might want to explore if you find yourself ’round these parts.

We took a trip up to Yellow Springs- a really cute college town, home of Antioch University.  We hiked at John Bryan State Park and in the Clifton Gorge area for 4 leisurely hours. Cliffs and huge boulders, caves, cool and shady and uncrowded.  We saw a red bellied woodpecker trying multiple times to stash a large acorn in several different holes in a large tree branch.

We also stopped off at a little nature center on site and we absolutely made the day of the 80 year old naturalist who was there. I recognized a microscopic animal called a copepod from the old board game I used to play (it’s called Dirty Water, and, unfortunately, it’s not available…) and he ’bout fell off his chair. He showed us his beautiful micro photos of algae and critters.

He also judges Quarter Horses so we had that to chat on too. Gave him like 15 minutes and brightened his life and our own. Later down in the quirky college town of Yellow Springs we got homemade vegan Indian food off a truck, ice cream, and I got a shirt for Kip and ordered one for Laura from an older hippie grad of Antioch who writes very clever puns like “Philosoraptor”  and “Tea Shirt” and illustrates his sayings. He gave us 4 pages of poem titles, all of which he wrote, let us choose – and recited us 3 or 4 flawlessly, from memory. I tried to recite my Goldfinch poem but I couldn’t. No matter. I asked who has favorite poets were and he said Coleridge and I wasn’t at all surprised.  I love the Romantic poets and could have happily spent a day talking of Wordsworth and Coleridge and Byron. Another memorable encounter, another chance to connect, and I bet if you head for Yellow Springs you will find the poet on the corner with his tee shirts and his stories.

9/8- Two girls, a guy, and a dog

Jen’s working, I’m in charge of the dogs, who are being good, which is fortunate, because after a bad night’s sleep and a bit of sprint work today, my back is very tight. Better now,  4 pm 3 advil finally working. Don’t feel super today though and tomorrow is supposed to be a sunny day. I should leave early and go to Indiana and bag it. So I’m thinking, I know I need to move on soon. But when things get exciting in my journal, I use my signature segueway…

Ok so…

Jen came back from work and I told her I had just walked the dogs so we headed over to the Huffman Prairie, where the Wright Brothers spent 1904-5 perfecting their flying technique and running a flight school. The land is preserved and we spent an hour or so on a gorgeous night looking at the exhibits and walking through the adjacent tall grass prairie preserve, managed by the Nature Conservancy and reputed to be the largest stand of prairie in the state.

We decided to jog, since Jen has fitness testing next week. We ran the field loop and got back to the car. Lacking tech devices for running, we needed to clock the loop with the car, and while doing so we stopped to take pics of the marvelous sunset.

I glanced right and said- Oh look at that!

A dog!  Lying in cool long lawn grass by a swale about 20 yards off the rd. Cute dog, but when we tried talking to it and approaching it growled and began to bark, but didn’t move away… Very puzzling behavior. We decided to finish clocking the run and to stop if the dog was still there upon our return. Meanwhile, a young man arrived with a pick up truck. We thought he might be a hunter…

On the other side of the cow pasture that witnessed history we saw and photographed the full moon rising over the grassland, then headed back toward the exit. The young guy still there- we asked him if it was his dog- he said no- he was going to ask us the same thing. He was working a dog and the stray had moved away some, but not far, when he got his dog out. We all knew that it was dangerous to leave a dog acting peculiar free and alone overnight. We thought he could be rabid or a kennel dog unaccustomed to people. Eventually she came close enough that we at least had a sex…female.

The three of us worked together for a bit with the dog, who didn’t want to be surrounded but who was interested in the car but wary. Our guy friend was smart, checked craigslist and found someone was missing a dog 2 days. He called. They wanted a photo- we wanted a name… Sadie! As soon as Jen said it she perked her ears.

It was getting very dark. A white mist lay low, 2 feet deep over the pasture- the guy went to meet the owners and Jen and I were entrusted with the dog. It was touch and go as I moved the car to provide headlights but Sadie feigned forward and slunk back. If we lost her in the fog it was going to be over for her. At one point, I moved the car, looked up, and Jen was 2 feet away from her. I held my breath and stood stock still. Understanding passed between Sadie and Jen- it was visible, and Jen knew what to do. “Do you want to give me your paw?” And miraculously, Sadie shook hands with Jen! I cannot explain how impossible that had seemed 20 minutes earlier as she snarled.

I brought the leash toward Jen and left it on the ground 10 feet back then retreated. Jen was patting the Sadie but afraid if she reached for the collar she might get bit. She waited for a tail wag then got the leash and put it on and we both got to shake hands and get full on kisses from the wiggly, handsome, ecstatic little dog. I said, “Would you like to sit in the car?” And she walked right over, though her paws were very sore on the gravel drive, and she hopped in and started looking for crumbs all over the car.

We got her water at a shed by the firing range and drove her to her people- Sadie in the front seat. Jen wrote the owners cell # on the collar- Sadie had no tags, had never been outside… The expression on Sadie’s face when she saw her mom was pure love.

Later we got this text…

“Thank you both so much! I cant tell you how worried we both was, we don’t have children so she is MY baby I was sick without her. Thank you both and god bless you for being so kind and gentle to Sadie girl.  She is happy to be back home and sleeping in a comfy bed with her little brother who also missed her very much.”

Jen and I had a quiet dinner in and the next morning I did make that start to Indiana- but Ohio was so special because through just being nice and taking some extra time we were able to enrich the lives of 3 people (and a dog). There is no better use of time.