A Runner’s Grand Canyon Resfeber

Resfeber Definition: The restless race of the traveler’s heart before the journey begins, when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together. (Swedish term)

I came across the word resfeber at a 24 hour race I was entered in. It was on the back of the race shirt we got at the race. I loved the term. There is no word in the English language that quite captures one’s mood just before a journey as this one does. While the word is focused on traveling and literally translates to “travel fever” I think it also applies to difficult ultra marathons. They may not involve traveling like when one is on a vacation, but they definitely constitute a journey.

I had set my sights on running the Grand Canyon from the south rim to the north rim and back to the south rim. It would not be the longest run I had ever attempted but it would be a very difficult challenge because of the steepness of the climbs and descents. In addition, the weather could change dramatically from the top of the canyon to the bottom. There would be swings of temperature of more than thirty degrees. In addition, I would need to be self-sufficient, carrying my own food and gear. It would also be a solo journey.

I was at a family Easter party and every so often someone would ask me about the run. People are naturally intrigued by the distance, terrain and the location. While I usually like to regale others with running stories, I was done discussing this story. I had done my research and training and just wanted to do it. I was also a bit nervous as I usually am in anticipation of any difficult run.  I feel very ready but still have to wait.

As I write this paragraph, I am on a jet heading to Phoenix. I will land and spend a night with friends in Scottsdale, then a day later head to the Grand Canyon. The resfeber is building. I feel that mix of anticipation and excitement, but it is mixed with anxiety because I know of the difficulties that lie ahead.

I am wondering what it will feel like to peer out over the Grand Canyon the day before my run knowing that I will be heading down in the dark the next morning. I will have a mini entourage to the Grand Canyon. My wife and our friends Ed and Sue will also go. It will be a long drive to the Grand Canyon. I feel a bit guilty because they are all traveling to the canyon to help me fulfill my adventurous journey.  I know that what I am doing is a bit unique and sometimes it is hard to explain to others, especially people in my age group. Most are thinking of slowing down and I am feeling like speeding up.

I did a short six mile run in the desert setting outside of Sue and Ed’s home in Scottsdale. It felt good after spending all day on a plane and sitting around. It was cool, probably the low fifties or high forties. My running felt a little off. I was not running smoothly. I had been sick the week before but felt I had recovered. However, my routine had been affected. I was not in the moment. My anxiety and anticipation was distracting me.

As we got off the shuttle bus and headed to the ranger station at the top of the south rim, we realized that they were closing. My friends thought it was important to get as much information as I could about the weather. I knew that park rangers were not very enamored with rim2rim2rim runners so I was hesitant to really discuss anything with them that might give me away. So, I saw a friendly ranger and asked her where was the best place to park for the South Kaibab trailhead? I don’t remember who asked but they asked about the weather at the bottom because I was running the rim to rim to rim. Her demeanor immediately changed. “We don’t recommend that anyone do that. It is extremely hot at the bottom. We expect it to be 95 degrees tomorrow.” Now that did not jive with all the reports, I had read but we just walked away.

If her idea was to plant a seed of doubt and maybe change my mind she failed. Though my wife was now hesitant. She said to me “Now Ray don’t do overdo it. Please if it gets to be beyond your ability, it is okay to cut it short.” She knew better than I, that I would push myself as hard as I could. Though as she said loud enough for Ed and Sue to hear “I just wanted to have witnesses that if you don’t make it, I had warned you!” Ed and Sue astutely mentioned that they thought the ranger was trying to scare me by exaggerating the temperature.

As I peered out over the canyon at Mather Point. I have to admit I was in awe because from that vantage point it looked impossible to get down the canyon let alone traverse it. Yet there was only one way that I could eliminate the resfeber. That was to start down the trail. After that it would be like many other difficult runs managing the issues that arise and pushing and motivating myself to keep going.

Yet I hadn’t started the run, and my heart was racing with nervousness. The side effect of this is that sleeping the night before a major run is always difficult. I closed my eyes and dreamt about my upcoming journey.

The next morning, I had no resfeber. It was go time.

Being Miserable Makes for a Perfect Training Race

I had already run over 21 miles and my stomach had almost revolted when I tried eating a short while ago. Yet I continued on. I did not have time to sit and rest until I felt better.

I had to figure out a way to keep moving despite it being difficult keeping the food down. I also had a major climb ahead of me that would sap some of my energy. I was feeling like crap. However, I was thinking that this was a perfect run for me precisely because I was miserable. That is because I needed to be challenged and pushed if I wanted to complete my upcoming challenge in a few weeks.

When I run a trail race the one thing I always try and focus on is being present in the moment. Enjoying the trail, maybe snapping a few photos to document the beauty of the course. Trail running has taken me to parks that I would never have visited without entering a race. It is a belief I have in life as well: Be present in the moment. Sometimes we dwell on the past and fret about the future, and do not enjoy the present.

Try as I might, I couldn’t quite keep that “present” feel on a recent trail ultra marathon. It was the Spring on the Trail 12 Hour Race. The race is located in the Hudson Valley region New York State. It is a beautiful course and I did snap a few pictures, but at times my mind was more than 2,300 miles away on the South or North Kaibab Trails of the Grand Canyon. These are trails my feet have never transversed—yet.  In a few weeks I will be doing the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim, a distance of between 43-47 miles depending on your route.

I signed up for the race in the Hudson Valley to get in almost the same amount of miles as the Grand Canyon, but I got more than I bargained for. It was more difficult than I anticipated partly because I didn’t study the course enough and partly because things just go wrong in ultra races.

What surprised me about the course was how much elevation it had. (Of course, had I studied it, it would have been apparent.)

There was an elevation rise of almost 600 feet per loop and I would end up doing fourteen loops. That’s more than 8,000 feet of climbing. Those 600 feet of elevation were packed into about a mile and a half climb. This long climb, while much shorter than the two long climbs I would do at the Grand Canyon, was about as good as it gets in my area to train for long vertical climbs. Since this was a loop run I did not really need to take in the views every time. I could pretty much put my head down and pretend I was at the Grand Canyon doing those two long steep ascents. I was pretty good on these climbs, moving rather steadily even after forty miles.

Yet that mistake on my part was a blessing because it was great training for the Grand Canyon run. Even my digestive issues around halfway through were a blessing. I had to figure out how to keep moving when eating was nearly impossible. While on this race I had an aid station plus my own food at my car, at the Grand Canyon the only fuel I will have is what I can carry with me on the run. I had been eating something small every six miles or so but then made a mistake by skipping a meal and trying to eat more to make up for it.

It was also warm day, and then I ate a warm, almost hot pickle at the aid station. Normally pickles can provide a runner with much-needed sodium but this one made me feel queasy. I just walked a bit and ran slowly till my stomach settled down. Lesson learned: Don’t eat a pickle that that has been sitting in the sun after running over 20 miles.

I finished my thirteenth lap and had time for the fourteenth. While I was running this lap, I met a woman who was on the same lap as me. She decided not to do another lap because she had a long ride home. I thought about my Grand Canyon run and realized that there was no option to cut a run short. As I came to this last lap the weather had changed dramatically. It was much colder and began to rain, plus it was getting dark. I was almost gleeful that I had to put on my rain gear and a head lamp. I knew on my Grand Canyon Run I would need to run with my headlamp, so I was happy to take it out. While I don’t anticipate a cold rain at the canyon, it is possible, plus running in miserable weather is always a good training practice.

My legs were tired. My body was wet from the rain and sweat. My stomach was still a little off. It was dark and I needed my headlamp to pack up. I had a long ride home—almost two hours in heavy rain. However, I was very happy with my performance and felt ready for the Grand Canyon. I covered about the same amount of ground as that run in eleven and a half hours.

My putting my head down and plowing ahead made me faster. There was one other lesson on this run. At one point at a beautiful overlook after about ten loops I decided to walk out away from the trail to take a picture. Previously it had been crowded with day hikers. After I took a couple of photos and as I headed back I saw this man-made mini altar. It had a Buddha in the middle, a golf ball, painted rocks, a rainbow heart, and other interesting trinkets.  I laughed and took a picture. Lesson learned. Yes, it is important to plow ahead on a physical quest, but one should take the time and be present in the moment or you might miss something.  I vowed that when I am in the Grand Canyon, I will not blindly push on but take moments to stop and take it all in.

My Cat Angel -Four Pounds of Fur but a Ton of Love, Laughter, and Life

 Part Three – Saying Goodbye to Angel

 

If you haven’t figured it out by reading my previous two blogs about my cat. I am a softy and a bit of a sap when it comes to my cats. What might surprise you is that originally I did not want cats. I told my wife that I was a dog person. These three cats I rave about were the only cats I ever had.  Though I know I will have others because of them.

Having cats is different than having dogs. In the relationship between human and feline it is the cat the determines the rules for affection and love. Some cats refuse to lay on your lap while others get angry when you get up. Some cats you can pick up and cuddle others squirm the minute you begin lifting them up. I abided by the rules for all three cats though Angel was a little different. She demanded that you pay attention to her and did not take no for an answer no matter how busy you were. So, I naturally relented to her wishes. Which led to me becoming a cat caregiver.

It was not very long after Midnight’s death that Angel began to age quickly. She seemed to go from a frisky playful cat to an old and slow cat in months. She would walk very slowly and was not nimble at all, especially for a cat. She also would follow us closely in the kitchen. We ran into her often and just brushing her with our legs would knock her over.

We took her to the vet, and she had a growth in her body but at her age there really was little that could be done. What we did do however was get some high protein food and supplements to give her strength. She was also much smaller now. She was only four pounds, she used to be six pounds. She needed calories. We also had thyroid medicine to give her. The main thing was she was not in any pain just weak.

My morning routine was now set. First, I would cuddle with her for a while. Then I would feed her regular food sprinkled with a protein supplement. A short time later give her thyroid medicine and some treats. Then give her what I called her cat Ensure. A high protein drink. If she was still hungry then feed her some more. Then go for my run.

That was just the morning routine, the same held true for the evening. In the overnight I would check on her and she would sometimes want to cuddle with me and other times she wanted to eat. While her appetite was great, and she was drinking water and having good poops there was a major issue. She would rarely pee in the litter box and the other duty we all hated was cleaning up after her. We had closed off most of the house to her. First, we didn’t want her peeing on the carpet and also she was often getting her claws caught on the carpet stairs.

I was preparing for her passing but doing all I could to keep her alive. I called our house, a feline hospice unit. When I purchased her various foods and supplements, I only purchased a couple of weeks’ worth because I knew she was getting close to the end. This started around the Christmas of 2023. Yet when Christmas of 2024 came and passed my temporary efforts to make her comfortable were working extremely well. I said she was like former President Jimmy Carter who was in hospice for years. Even our vet was amazed that she was still alive.

This constant care for her for over a year predictably drew us even closer. It also made it harder for me to accept the inevitable. This spunky little cat might live forever.

Yet forever came. As we were sitting in our living room with me in my recliner, I had noticed the last two days that Angel was much weaker than normal. The food perked her up but not for very long. I joked with my wife that when she fell asleep on me that she may pee on me because she had little strength. That night I was unfortunately proven right. First, we fell asleep together watching television. When I woke, I noticed I was a little wet. She had peed on me! She was very weak. I carried her with me to the recliner and she and I fell asleep again. I figured I was safe because she had already peed. I noticed that she felt differently on my body. Her body was completely limp. It was if all the muscles in her body were gone. At about 5am I put my hand down on the side of the chair and on the chair covering and it was wet. She had peed again! Luckily missing me but getting the side of the chair covers and the floor. I quickly got up and took the cover off. Noticing that it was mostly on the floor. Cleaned it up and put the chair cover in the wash.

Angel slowly walked around getting a drink of water but then started to just stand and stare. Eventually she stumbled into the litter box to do her duty. I knew the end was near and decided that I would call the vet that day. I was in the recliner hoping she would come to me for some cuddles even though she had slept with me the whole night. Then she fell down and let out a loud meow and was dead. I had never watched a natural death before but knew what it was immediately. It was 6AM and everyone else was asleep. I kissed her and thanked her for being our cat. I found a shoebox and placed her inside it.

I had time to reflect on my Angel because no one else was around. She was the last reminder of my kid’s childhood. We may have all changed but with Angel we had remained the same and treated her the same as when we were younger.

I texted my daughter about Angel and when Patty and Evan came down, we had a good cry. When my cell phone rang and I saw it was my daughter, Lisa, the tears swelled up in my eyes and I could barely get out the words “hello”. We all cried again. Being expected doesn’t make it easier.

When I came down the stairs the next morning, the house felt empty. There was no little white head popping up to greet me. I had plenty of time because there was no cat to take care of. I was lost without my cat duties going through the morning without joy.

That night we started a fire in our fireplace. Which the cats always enjoyed. We were now catless. We were still in shock. My wife said “Angel won the cat lottery when she met you.” Insinuating that her life was much better because of that.

I thought of that fateful day when I switched my lunch plans and Angel ended up in my arms. Of how much we all enjoyed her. I couldn’t imagine the last eighteen years without her. “No” I said, “We won the cat lottery not her.”

My Cat Angel -Four Pounds of Fur but a Ton of Love, Laughter, and Life

Part Two – Living with Angel

 

While Angel was the smallest of our cats, she was the one that was impossible to ignore. That was because she refused to have the humans ignore her.

Our other two cats Midnight and Sterling tolerated Angel but were not enamored with her, especially Midnight who was the “Queen” as we called her and liked to have a quiet life. Angel, was everywhere, always causing mischief. Sterling stood his ground with her, so it was a standoff.

Angel’s forte was not in cultivating feline relationships but in cultivating human relationships. All our family and friends knew Angel because she was part of every family party or a friend’s visit. She would walk around and jump on laps or curl up to our friends and cuddle whether they were cat people or not. Some guests felt so honored that a strange cat would find them so special and give them attention. They thought that Angel thought that they were special. We did not have the heart to tell them that she did that with all our guests and that you were no more special than anyone else in her eyes. Yet I can’t argue that by her doing that she made our guests feel special.

Even though I saw her make everyone believe that they were special because she chose to snuggle with them, even if it was not so and she was just using them. While I was onto her game it does not mean that I was not immune to her charm.  One of our evening routines was that she would snuggle in cozy with my wife on the couch, while my wife read her book or Kindle. When I entered the room and sat in the recliner across the room Angel would pop up her sleepy head and look longingly at me. My wife would say sarcastically “Oh your boyfriend is here. Now you are going to leave me!” Which Angel would promptly do, sometimes in a sleepy stupor, and she looked drunk walking over and jumping on my lap. I think she knew I was one who was easily taken in and would do anything if she showed me affection.  Which admittedly is completely true. She was training me to be her servant and succeeding. Proof of that will come in the following blog.

She was so present with company that sometimes people thought she was our only cat. They would ask “You have other cats too?” They couldn’t remember their names, however. Angel, though, was easy to remember.

Angel had a way of making us all laugh even when what she was doing was wrong. I would find her sleeping in weird positions and places. Once with her head between both legs in her butt.  Other times with her head plopped straight down in front of her. Often in the laundry basket. We had more pictures of her in strange positions than I can count. At the end of the day, we would exchange photos of what Angel was doing.

It should be mentioned that one of her weird sleeping spots caused me my first broken bone in my life. In the early morning hours, one day I was carrying my suit with me down the stairs from the bedroom in the dark. I did not want to wake others by turning on the light. In any case as I walked down the stairs I stepped on Angel and then tumbled down the stairs, breaking a bone in my hand. I almost got mad at her.

Yet when you were down Angel also had the instinct to know when to cuddle with you. This is one reason pet owners love their cats or dogs. When other people are causing you pain, you know your pet is dependable and will love you. While Midnight and Sterling did this too Angel was content to spend hours with you. A truer friend could not be found.

Yet she was mischievous. If there was going to be a cat that jumped on the dining room table for a bite of roasted chicken, it was Angel. If there was a cat that would jump into the Christmas Tree, it was Angel. If there was a cat that would annoy the other cats it was Angel. We found ourselves yelling Angel’s name more than all the other cats and human names combined. She was the annoying little brother who created chaos. Yet we all secretly loved her even more for that crazy personality.

Angel had a bad habit of never retracting her claws. So, when she jumped on your lap in the summer it could be painful. During COVID I was doing a remote interview with the governor of New Jersey. While I had a shirt and tie on for the camera, I was wearing shorts since it was the summer. Angel jumped on me during that interview and it took all the composure I could muster not to wince. Later in her life we would find her claws stuck on the carpeting going to the second floor or hanging off the couch with her claws stuck on the couch covering.

We all depended more on Angel after Sterling passed. We now had two opposite cats, Midnight who was a cat happy to be left alone with her human family and very solitary and Angel who to be frank was a diva.

Yet that diva showed us all that she was not all about herself. When Midnight started to deteriorate, Angel surprised us. You see they had always just tolerated each other. Yet Angel seemed to sense that Midnight was nearing the end. All of a sudden, we saw her sleeping next to Midnight. We were shocked but it did our hearts good. Midnight was our first pet and very special to us. I have written about my love for Midnight as well. (Sorry Sterling but I was not writing my thoughts when you were with us.)

Angel’s small change of affection towards Midnight made her death easier for us. She was instinctively helping us deal with her death.

Yet after Midnight passed, I saw a change in Angel. She was no longer a frisky cat with a pep in her step. She was an older cat who was slowing down. I realized that she was no longer young and was seventeen years old.  Having a young cat or dog is different than having a geriatric pet. More would be demanded of us to repay her for all the love she had shown us.

Part 3 – Saying Goodbye to Angel

My Cat Angel -Four Pounds of Fur but a Ton of Love, Laughter and Life

 Part One – Finding Angel

Sometimes in life a small, seemingly insignificant decision can change your life’s trajectory.

That happened to me and my family. It was lunch time, and I left our office building in Trenton and headed to my car. I was going to go to a restaurant across the river in Pennsylvania for lunch. The minute I got outside the warm spring-like weather hit me. You know how the first really warm day of March feels after months of winter weather. Just as I was about to open my car door I stopped and turned away from my car. I decided to enjoy the weather by walking a few blocks to get a sandwich at a local deli called Lucy’s. A fateful decision.

As I was walking down the sidewalk,  I could see in the distance, a woman and a boy with a large white dog standing in front of some run-down townhouses. I thought the woman had a white puppy in her arms, but when I got closer, I saw that the white puppy was actually a white kitten. They seemed to be a bit upset. I greeted them pleasantly when the woman said “This cat just fell out of this window. I need to check to see if anyone is there. Could you hold her while I check?”  I replied “Sure.”

She quickly put the kitten in my arms and went inside. The second I held this gentle kitten in my arms, my heart melted. Our fates together were sealed when the woman said the apartment was vacant. She couldn’t keep the cat. Just as we were discussing what to do a man walks by and says to the white kitten “Hi little guy. I hope you are okay.” He then told us he was going to give the cat to the pound but they wanted $5 and he didn’t have it. As I looked at this cat I thought of my daughter Lisa. If I told her the story of this kitten and mentioned that I had just left her in the streets Lisa would have been furious at me. Quickly I told the woman I would take her. I asked her if she could hold her for one day so I could get my pet carrier.

When I got home that evening I told my wife the story. She was okay with me bringing her home but in no uncertain terms we were not keeping her. We already had two cats and that was more than enough. It so happened that a woman at work said if we didn’t keep her than she would take her. Great, I had saved her and found her a great home.

The next day I picked up the kitten. I was not really sure whether she was a kitten or cat as she was  so small. As it so happens, I did not need the pet carrier.  As I carried her to my car she snuggled with me. She laid curled up on my lap for the entire hour and a half drive except for one time when she got up and walked to the back seat and then came back to my lap. Her willingness to snuggle was winning me over. While we had two cats that we loved neither one was a lap cat. Her ability to frustrate me also came because when I looked in the back of my car I could see three little poop turds on the floor. I was not mad but just laughed. That was also the beginning of her getting away with almost anything with me.

My kids who were in elementary school at the time, embraced her quickly, even though they knew she was only staying with us temporarily. The new kitten would stay in their rooms because we did not want to introduce her to the other cats.

We needed to take her to our vet for a check up. You name it, she had it, including mites and fleas. The vet was examining her and mentioned that the cat might be pregnant. My wife looked at me and said with disdain “Pregnant!”  I said “Don’t look at me. It’s not like I’m the father.” The vet laughed. It turns out she wasn’t. The vet estimated that she was around ten months old.

We also had to name her. A big decision. I wanted to call her Lucy since that was name of the deli I was going to when I found her. While I thought it was a great idea, my kids shot it down. They settled on Angel. Because of her white fur and gentle affection, it seemed appropriate. Later when she was healthy and settled in, we saw her more mischievous side and it seemed like a less suitable name.

Yet the day was coming that we would have to give her away. I wanted to keep her but my wife was adamant, so I remained silent. I am a softy, and I found her, so my connection was strong. My son Evan, however, had fallen in love with her. He broke down in tears when my wife said that we would have to give her up and that she would have a good home. My wife liked the bond that they had formed and came to me. “Is having three cats too many?” I had my opening. “No” I said. “It will be okay and she is good for Evan.” That sealed the deal.

There was an adjustment period for Angel. Mostly around food. She had been on her own and food was scarce so when we put the food out, she attacked it and ate so fast that sometimes she got sick. We had to find ways to slow her down. Which we eventually did.

One of our other cats, Midnight, was not entirely thrilled with our decision to keep this energetic cat, she was more solitary anyway and adjusted by keeping her distance.  While we had three cats if someone visited they thought we only had one – Angel. The other two, Midnight and Sterling scrambled for cover when someone rang the doorbell or entered the house. Angel would get excited and greet the guests as if it was obvious to all that they had come to see her.

Our family life would never be the same. We had a new member of the family, and that new member would often take center stage at our house.

See Part two – Living with Angel

Racing Not to Win

I was doing my normal morning run when I saw another runner I know, and we stopped running and began chatting. He is about my age, but I got to know him because I knew his son, Gray. I said, “I will be running a race with your son.” He said, “How long?” I said “50k” He replied “Wow”.  I later said he could join us, but he said that was too long. Even though when I talked about doing a shorter distance, he was still a definite no.  Eventually he said I am not very competitive. I don’t race. I have been running for fifty years and maybe did two or three races.”  I was stunned but I respect his philosophy. He just likes running and believe me if I had to choose to only do races or just daily runs I would definitely choose just the daily runs. I did mention to him that “I don’t race to win but I like races to see new places and meet people.”

While I like to race, I have seen people who are the opposite of my friend who are so dialed in to place in the top three or some other time goal, that it borders on being obsessive. Marathoners are often that way, rating each other by the time whether it is three or four hours. I am definitely not that way. I don’t remember what my times are for any of my races.

Don’t get me wrong, I am competitive, but my competition is with myself not others. You see I have the luxury of being in my mid-sixties so I know I can’t win against the much younger runners. So, while I push myself to my limits, I have no anxiety over where I finish.

Now don’t get me wrong I am not laissez faire about the races. If I hear footsteps behind me, I instinctively pick up my pace. If I see a runner in front of me that I think I can pass I make that a goal. Yet I know that I will get passed by other runners and that I will pass others. I am however running faster than on my normal morning runs. The other runners motivate me to go faster and be my best.

The other thing I like about races is to add to what I said to my friend. I love running in new places, especially trail races. I have explored so many parks in New Jersey that I would not have visited without entering the race. I now have entered trail races in other states and have thoroughly enjoyed those runs as well. Sometimes I know that the terrain will be difficult which only makes it more attractive as a race because it will push me even more. In those races even though I am well behind the leaders I feel like I share in the accomplishment of just finishing.

The other reason I race is just the vibe of a race.  Almost all races, whether they are a road race, or a trail race are a festive scene. Runners a very supportive of each other. For most of us it really is not about winning but doing our best.  On a couple of occasions, I have slowed down my pace to help another runner get to the finish line. I finished much further back than I normally would have but I made a friend instead. A great trade off.

A short while later I was at that race with Gray and another friend Dan. Both are young enough to be my sons. It was my first race in a couple of months, and I was returning to that race scene vibe. It would be a very difficult 50k. It was the Febapple Frozen Fifty by the NJ Trail Series. The trails were almost completely ice.  I strapped on my Yaktrax and put my brand-new trekking poles in my backpack in case I needed them. I have never used them before, but the icy conditions made me think they may help.

As if Gray’s dad had somehow put a spell on this race to turn it into a run, the race director announced that his timing system was not working and that he could not give us times. He followed that up by saying the trail conditions were bad and that if anyone wanted to, they could drop down to a shorter distance. For us that meant a twenty miler or even a ten miler.

It was a good thing that I was not racing to win because that first ten-mile loop went as bad as any I had ever had. Not even a mile into the run I took a spill, and my trekking poles flew out of my pack, and it took quite a bit of time to take off my pack and readjust everything. Then in a series of mishaps both of my shoelaces came loose and needed to be retied. My one Yaktrax broke. I missed a turn and wasted time. I again fell hard. This time, setting off an alarm in my Garmin sending for help. Who it was sending a message to I had no idea because I didn’t even know I had that feature. I realized a little later that the alarm had also stopped my GPS so I had no idea how far I had gone.

It was at this point I said to myself “This is not my day maybe I will drop down.” Yet I decided to continue on. I had a long run at the Grand Canyon coming up and I needed to persevere. As I came to the aid station to start my last five miles there was my friend Dan. It was a welcome sight. A friendly face when you are struggling always helps. Gray, who is much faster than either one of us, was six miles ahead and had finished already.  Dan and I would do the last five miles together. I think he was just as happy as I was to have someone alongside him to help get through this difficult race.

It wasn’t pretty but we finished. Our time was at least an hour and a half slower than it would have been under normal conditions. The icy terrain had really tested us. I had overcome all my gear issues and falls. I had almost decided to quit. In reality, I was not really running but slogging up and down icy trails. I know I said that I don’t race to win but somehow this finish made me feel like a winner. I had persevered. That is another reason I like racing, you can feel like a winner even when you don’t win. Maybe I do race to win.

  

Running Back to my Roots

Where one grows up as a child is a place that even if you try to forget, is always with you. You may not return to your childhood home, but it is in your memory bank sometimes influencing all your decisions. We can try and convince ourselves that we are adults moving forward with our lives and not the awkward kid who was so unsure of themselves and the decisions that they made. Yet that awkward kid still looms somewhat, at least that is true for me.  I am a runner and can outrun most people in a run. Yet I cannot outrun my past. I am running in front of my past, but I can hear and feel the footsteps behind me like one does in a race when you feel another runner behind you. Except unlike a runner in a race the past never pulls in front or falls completely back. It is a constant companion.

My 97-year-old mom was not in great health, and I needed to stay with her for a few days. While I knew that I would have to curtail my running, I did not want to stop running for those days either. When traveling I love running in a new location I have written about this before in my blog about Running in Strange Places. Yet this would be the strangest place even if it was very familiar. Before I ran, I had been watching the news reports of the devastating fires in Los Angeles County, California. More than a couple of reporters mentioned that this was a neighborhood where they grew up, but it was now nothing but rubble.  This fire was more personal. As if part of their youth was gone. This motivated me to look at this run as an opportunity to see my roots.

I spent the first 39 years of my life in the town of Lincoln Park and was very involved in the community having served as a council person and on the planning board as well. So, I was more than aware of how the community has changed over time. However, when you traverse a place on foot for miles you get a different feel.

On this run while I noticed the buildings that had changed over time when I was running it was not about the buildings as it was about the people I had known in my youth. I was running by homes and roads that I had walked to school on or rode my bike to a baseball game on. While I will mention a few names, believe me every turn brought an old memory and family. It was a slew of people.

At first it was the buildings I noticed as I ran up Skyline Drive passing by the townhomes that I sat on the planning board when they were approved. I noticed that the sidewalks and roads were no longer newer and that those new developments were well over 30 years old. I ran by my old elementary school which was completely renovated and expanded. The lyrics of the school song started popping into my head “Pinebrook, Pinebrook - Every time I open up a book, whether here or on vacation I thank you for my education.” I can’t believe that I remember that.

However, as I ran past the school through the houses nearby, I remembered the last names of those kids in elementary school Nowacki, Tanner, and Zammit. Then I headed down the school path towards the development I grew up in. It was called Ernstville at one time. I am probably the only person left who knows that. The houses were all different colors and landscaped differently from when I roamed the area. I ran by the Miller’s home as well as the Smith’s. I saw my friend Jimmy DelGuidice’s home. I was not seeing the house as they are now but going back in time. The Millers were dark brown, the Smith’s dark green, and my friend Jimmy’s house was light green.

Before I got to my parent’s old house, I ran by what used to be a sandlot where all the boys in the neighborhood played baseball and football. This is where I hit my first home run which also broke a window of a house. I was proud and aghast at the same time. Now it is a playground with slides and tubes. Nowadays, kids don’t do sports on their own, it is all youth leagues. We, however, were like the kids in the movie Sandlot. We played on this lot like those kids no set teams just dividing up the kids who came into what we thought would be equal teams.

I could barely recognize my parent’s yard as I ran by. I noticed some houses were no longer there. The area was in a flood zone and the state sometimes bought the owners’ home and razed it, then left the lot vacant. On my way back I had extra time, so I went up a dead end to check on my friend Sam Bundz’s home. I used to carpool with him to football practice in high school. To my shock I could not remember which house was his. They were all the same design and the same color.

The next day I took a different route to another part of town. While I was in college I worked at a local pharmacy and did deliveries all over the area. I used to know the area better than modern day GPS. I went down Ryerson Road and couldn’t remember many of the side streets. I went into the Lyn Park section and thought of all my high school friends from this section. Then I headed back and around the small neighborhood by my old middle school, Chapel Hill.  I ran pass a house and I remembered that it was Dorna Johnson’s. I had a crush on her in eighth grade but was too chicken to ask her out.

When I left my mom’s, I reflected not only on my run but the memories that it had stirred within me. They were for the most part very positive memories. Yet it was a time that is in the past and of another era. This generation would probably find it more amusing than important and our lifestyle close to archaic. While the run was filled with nostalgia it felt very strange.

The next day I was home and did my early morning run in my neighborhood. It felt so comfortable. I was running in the present, not in the past.  I realized that this is now my home with a new set of memories. All those names and people who I remembered on the run are like me. They too have new homes and memories. Though we have shared roots in Lincoln Park.