Helpless

Recently I visited the Indian Peaks Wilderness to attempt the marathon loop, 26 miles of beautiful mountain trail and between 5700 and 7000 ft. of elevation gain, depending on who you ask. I have wanted to give this one a go for awhile now, and though I was excited about the journey ahead of me, I was also a bit concerned about how I would fare at this distance. The last time I ran a comparable distance was in February. Yet the time had come to give it a go since pacing at the Hardrock 100 was looming on the horizon.

Yeah, this'll do.

With a cache of VFuel in tow, I hit the trail a little after 10:00 AM. Not knowing how I would hold up on this route, I kept the pace slow and focused on keeping my heart rate low and conserving energy. I decided on taking the loop counterclockwise, and the Beaver Creek trail was a nice way to start, a steady but not too demanding uphill climb to the intersection with the Mt. Audubon trail. Things were looking good, even if my knee and Achilles tendon issues were dogging me...not like Dobermans, though...more like agitated chihuahuas. At the intersection with the Mt. Audubon trail, the Beaver Creek trail proceeds to drop steadily as it heads to Buchanan Pass. Here began patches of snow...and then more snow...and then snowfield after stupid snowfield. Neat. I'm glad the snow's still around for the sake of water supply, but honestly, I want to punch snow right in its smug face. It's basically July, snow. I don't mind if you're here and there, but you' were everywhere on that trail, and your ubiquity is offensive. I eventually lost the trail and proceeded to bloody my knuckles on what I assumed was this particular snowfield's midsection. "Work the body," I heard my boxing coach say. "This is good training," I thought. "Apollo Creed will never know what hit him!" Oh, also, I later realized that my anger at the snow-induced hallucinations. Pfsh...lucky you for you, Apollo.

Paiute Peak from Mt. Audubon

But truly, I was angry: at the conditions, at my injuries (and thus at myself for causing them), and at God. Admittedly, it was a very petty anger, at least ostensibly. But as I reflected on it later, these were only symptoms of the deeper issue: I was angry at my helplessness and inadequacy. As I've come to realize over the years, it's comparatively easy for me to respond affirmatively to Christ in the "big" things. "You're inviting me to uproot my life and follow You to some unknown land, Jesus? Sure!" It is in the "small" things, in the day-to-day activities and struggles of life, that I falter and fume. In part, I think this is due to the fact that the area of the small things is where I imagine I am self-possessed, in control. Here I like to pretend I'm God, independent and in need of no one, not even Him whom I love. So when the little things start to go counter to my view of how they should be, the bubble is punctured and I am confronted with my ugly helplessness, my utter inadequacy. So I get pissed at snow. But the repeated revelation of my helplessness is not to be a discouragement, an instrument of despair. Rather, it is grace and mercy, for it is an invitation to trust in His love for me, to trust that recognizing and accepting my helplessness is the means to more fully receiving His all-consuming love. Jesus walked the path of dependence and helplessness all the way to the cross, and in doing so saved the world. If He's calling me and everyone else to follow Him in this, I can't imagine that the result will be anything less than wonderful albeit difficult and painful for a time. This is going to take awhile to learn.

Forget-me-nots

So what does this mean in the context of a wilderness outing? For me, it meant shaking off the "woe-is-me" and going to do two thirteeners (Audubon and Paiute) instead. But snow, you're not off the hook.

Paiute Peak over my right shoulder

Looking southwest from atop Mt. Audubon

Getting Ready

Man, it is great to be back in the mountains!  From the beginning of November 2012 until mid-May 2013 I was at Monastery of Christ in the Desert in New Mexico.  It's a beautiful place, right on the Rio Chama and surrounded by gorgeous mesas in the high desert.  I lived in a hermitage right on the river, getting up at about 4 every morning to pray before heading to work at 9, and would then either read or run before ending the day with more reading and prayer.  I don't know exactly how to summarize my time there.  Every time I try it seems to somehow denigrate the experience.  Our words are such inadequate conveyors of the experience of the Word Himself, and I suppose that's intentional.  If words alone were enough, what would be the incentive to truly live?

The chapel at Monastery of  Christ in the Desert

Though my time at the monastery was inexpressibly good, I love being back in the mountains.  There were pretty decent trails near the monastery, including a stretch of the Continental Divide Trail that provided adequate elevation and a healthy dose of beauty.  But still, when I arrived back in Estes Park, my feet couldn't wait to hit the trails.

My first real run was up Lily Mountain via the Homer Rouse trail from the Carriage Hills development in Estes.  I didn't expect too much of a challenge, but I was pleasantly surprised by the last three-quarters of a mile up the mountain.  It was steep, and just what I needed to give me an idea of my fitness level.  In other words, I was out of shape, but not horribly so.  I'd never been up Lily prior to this run because of its popularity, proximity to town, and the short round-trip distance (4 miles if you start from the actual trailhead), but the views from the top were magnificent.  The run ended up being 10 miles with about 2800 ft. of gain.  'Twas a good start to getting my legs back.

The next excursion was Twin Sisters, another smaller peak but with significant gains in a short amount of time.  It starts out at a bit of 9000' and climbs to over 11400' in 3.6 miles, which equates to rough 670 ft./mi.  , and like its neighbor Lily Mt., it has great vista views from the top.  I got up in 1:12, slowed a bit by a considerable stretch of snow just below treeline, but I picked up the pace on the way down to finish in 1:53. Nothing spectacular, but I was good with it.

A couple of days later, it was time to tackle Lumpy Loop: http://www.trimbleoutdoors.com/ViewTrip/60518.  It had been over six months since I was last here, and that trip resulted in a broken finger on the descent from Gem Lake to the intersect with the Cow Creek Trail...neat.  I was hoping for better results this time.  Lumpy is one of my fitness assessment runs.  If I run it between 2:00 and 2:10, I'm happy. It's about 10.5 miles with 3000' ft. of gain split between two hearty climbs, winding through beautiful stretches of forest though it's often pretty warm because of its relatively low altitude (the high point is around 9200 ft.).  I opted for a counterclockwise run this time because many say that this is the more challenging direction.  I'm still not convinced of this, but what do I know?  I laced up the shoes, downed some VFuel, and hit the trail.  I felt like I was struggling a bit on the 1.7 mile ascent to Gem Lake, but my watch disagreed.  I arrived at the lake in just over 26 minutes, which put me on pace to hit my 2:00-2:10 mark.  The next climb slowed me to a hike at several points, and I topped out on the Black Canyon Trail/Lumpy Ridge Trail intersection in 1:30.  I knew I probably wasn't going to hit a sub-2:00 on this run, but I pushed the last 3.7 miles and finished in 2:09:30.

Since then, I've been up Hallett Peak with my best good friend, VFuel co-founder Michael Hodges, for his 45th ascent of that beautiful beast.

Nobody cares...but way to go, buddy!

Two days later, I returned to Twin Sisters for a hike with Michael and some other folks I consider near and dear to me (check out www.shelmusic.com).

I'm definitely the prettiest one in this photo.

Just before the rhinoceros attacked.

It's now time to shift into high gear, as my friend Alan Smith, another VFuel co-founder, asked me to pace him at this year's Hardrock 100.  With Hardrock looming, I've put Mt. Meeker, Mummy Mountain, and a Mummy Kill loop on the docket for the near future.  If those don't get me passably ready for pacing Hardrock, I don't know what will.

Nearer

Where are You my Love?

I come at Your call

I sit, I wait.  

Are You here?

Was that Your caress,

Your breath at my ear?

I do not know.

Confused, I go.

Where were You?

Did my appearance offend?

Was my beauty too dull?

I pause, then notice:

My heart is full.