8th month injury update

I know that last month I posted the “8 month update” on my injury, but my math was wrong and I believe that this is NOW the 8^th  month.  Just another sign that I needed a vacation.

My buddy Keith is a gambler, and was taking a Thanksgiving trip to Vegas to stay in free hotel rooms.  Seemed like a no-brainer to me, so I joined in.  We left Spokane in his vehicle around 3pm on Saturday, and by 5 or 6am we were starting up the hill in the dark to Angel’s Landing in Zion.  It was a perfect start, as we crossed the bridge in the pitch black darkness, and ¼ mile further when we started up hill it had become light enough to see the trail.  It was a slow and steady hike up, approximately 1200 feet gain in 2.5 miles.  After the descent, it was clear that I was walking funny, and that my legs and glutes had given all they had.

After a trip through Valley of Fire, we headed into the Red Rock Hotel in Vegas.  Since arriving, I have been learning about how indoor people live, learning things like how to gamble, how to use a Valet, and how much to tip a bell hop.  Quite a learning experience for this old dirtbag hillbilly.

On Monday morning I pulled myself upright, stretching some tired muscles, then headed up to Red Rock Conservation Area to test myself on Turtle Head Peak.  TurtleHead is my yearly test of fitness.  Approximately 2.5 miles each way, with a gain of just shy of 2000 feet, ending at about 6000 foot elevation.  In the years past I have been able to get my time down to just under one hour, pushing myself to the ultimate limit the entire time.  In past years I have caught and passed a lot of younger people, including one military guy who felt this old Viking brush past him on the trail.  To get my time under one hour, I keep a fast pace the entire way, with NO stopping whatsoever.  To get my time any better, I would have to include “trail running.”

Now, for those who don’t know, I fell off a rock on March 18, fracturing 2 vertebra, breaking my pelvis in two places, and fracturing 4 ribs.  I spent 2 weeks in the hospital, refused any further treatment or a rehab facility as I don’t have any insurance, and merely returned home.  For the first two weeks home my kids had to take care of most of my needs and help me into and out of a wheelchair and bed, after that I was relegated to the kindness of my amazing neighbors who would pop-in often.  While in the hospital some beautiful climbing friends built a “Viking Siege Ramp” on the front of my house, so I had mobility and access.  I tried not to let it stop me, though it definitely slowed me down.  One week out of the hospital, me in my suit and her in a business skirt, my beautiful daughter Emily pushed me through a rain/snow/blizzard to the bus stop, got me downtown, and pushed me to a job interview.  On other occasions I would pay a neighbor kid to drive me out of town to court and conduct my duties in a chair.  Occasionally I would spend the 2 hours it took to get out of bed and dress myself, push myself to a bus stop (almost always in the rain) and ride the bus downtown to get a half hour’s work and take the bus home, typically taking about 4-5 hours to get in a half hours work.  One time I was wheeling down a hill and the tire came off the rim, leaving me in somewhat of a pickle.  I finally got the chair to a bus, and got us home.

I spent about 6 weeks in the chair, then spent about 4 days with a walker, about a day using crutches (nearly impossible with my back brace which came up into my arm pits) then went to “jimmy sticks” for a couple weeks, then to a cane (my beautiful Aunt Judy gave me my great grandfather Olaf’s cane, which I will always treasure).

It was with those memories and thoughts that I headed to the turtle this morning.  As I started up, I was concerned about my heart exploding if I pushed too hard, since it has been so long, so I wore a heart monitor and kept an eye on it.  As it turned out, my legs are too weak to even push the heart to a stress level.  For the most part my HR remained around 165, with a high of the day of 179.  Not much to worry about.  So the fight became one of getting my legs to keep pushing me up the hill.  The first half mile is merely a slight up-hill jaunt that typically acts as a good warm up.  WOW, today I was feeling my legs giving out by the time I even hit the up-hill portion.  Merely a couple hundred feet into the elevation gain, I already knew that there was no way I was going to finish the quest.  I kept going.  I tried to think of all of the inspirational people in my world.  Roo, who this year set a world record, completely shattering the old record of how many times she could one-hand lift a 40lb kettleball in an hour (712 times!!);  Brant Stevens, who in his 40s still boxes, fights MMA, and runs marathons and triathlons; Erin LaVoie, one of brother Bill’s old students who set numerous records in logging competitions.  In the end, it was not the “inspiration” of any of these people that kept me moving, it was solely the fear of having Roo learn that I quit like a “little bitch” that kept me moving.  I never got my mind to the point of “I must succeed,” rather just kept putting off my “failure.”  It was not my respect for Roo’s inspiration, rather the fear of her wrath that kept me moving.

At about ¾ the way to the ridge, I was at a continuing pace of about 4-5 steps, then rest, …  I looked behind me, and there were a couple people closing in on me.  At this point it is important to admit that I have a thing about people passing me.  NEVER on the turtle has ANYONE ever passed me.  Almost NEVER ANYWHERE does anyone pass me when I am walking, unless I am pacing with a group.  This is a pride thing that I will probably have to overcome in the near future, but someone is going to have to EARN the privilege of passing this old fat man if that is his/her intent.  Seeing people closing in, my pace quickened somewhat to about a 5-7 step then rest, as that is all I could muster.  All of my thoughts turned to having to come to grips with someone passing me.  My fear of being passed even surpassed my fear of admitting failure to Roo. 

Finally, at 1:07 hours I hit the ridge.  The ridge is an accomplishment, but the climb is surely not over.  I estimate an additional 350 – 400 feet of elevation after the ridge, but not as steep.  I took about a minute rest to strengthen my mind, then headed up again.  Finally, at 1:27 I topped out on the summit.  There was a guy standing on the summit, and I did not see him in front of me, nor did I see him coming up behind me, so I cannot guarantee that he did not pass me.  The mere fact that I could NOT GUARANTEE that I had not been passed took all of the “glee” out of reaching the summit.  This is a mental “weakness” that I had better overcome in the next few years as I get even older and fatter, or I will start to experience “failure” on too many occasions.

On the descent I felt weak and fragile for the first third, but by the time my body had loosened up again I was walking down the hill like a stud.  On the descent I caught and passed numerous younger folk, thus renewing my faith in the old fat guy and giving myself a good feeling about the day.  AND IT WAS a beautiful day, in Vegas, with a buddy, hiking the turtle, 70 degree weather and sunshine. 

Yep, I need to live down here!

Prep for Freedom 2011

I drove down from spokane on Tuesday morning, and it was by far the worst driving conditions that I have ever faced. The 15 hour drive took 23 hours of driving. Awful! Since arriving, the beautiful LisaB has allowed me to crash at her place. Darn wonderful accommodations, darn wonderful lady.

Shortly after arriving, TonyZ showed up with a buddy and a couple of typical Z-hotties. We spent two days climbing together and I had a blast. The girls were kind enough to let the Old Guy flirt with them without taking it too personally, and just giggled at me. That sure makes the days go by nicely :{ I joined my lawyer buddy Keith for dinner at the hotel on Thanksgiving. Keith is one of my best friends, but we sure do Vegas in a different manner. Keith is on the gambling circuit, and I am on the climbing lineup.

On Saturday I went for a hike back behind turtle rock. A couple hours of exercise. I am trying to focus on exercise and cleaning up my ridiculous eating habits while I am here. It is tough to do both at the same time, because the change of eating habits limits my energy. I will fight through it and come out better on the other end. It is time.

On Sunday I climbed some limestone with Michelle and Amy. I am not sure there are any two more special people in the world. They make me feel so welcome and so loved. May the gods smile on their lives.

Sunday night I started having phone troubles. The trouble is that the phone died. Dead. Done. On Monday morning I went to Walmart for a new phone, and stood there for an hour while the nice young lady called in the switch. By mid afternoon, the switch still had not taken place and the new phone still did not work, so back to Wallys for another half hour. Finally have a phone again, but I DO NOT HAVE ANY NUMBERs, so call me and let me know your number.

On Monday I went to meet up with Michelle and Amy for some climbing, but they had heard bad reports on the weather so they bailed to indoor climbing. It being against my religion to climb indoors, I headed out into the park and hiked the Turtle for some exercise. I admit that I am in some of the worst shape of my life, but with that in mind it took me 64 minutes from the car to the top. I hope to drop 10 minutes off that time by next month, and would be even happier if I dropped 20 minutes. It was pretty disappointing, but many would consider it OK.

I cannot add any photos to the blog yet, because I do not have the wire to download them. If TonyZ or any of his hotties post any photos, I will get some of them into this blog.

Life is merely a Talent Show....; my career as a teacher

Blue Diamond is a beautiful community about 15 minutes outside of Vegas. The town has about 106 houses, and is surrounded by BLM property and will never grow, giving it a fairly steady population of about 300 people. Many of the people are multi-generation Diamonders, and it is a true community. There is one small store with one gas pump; a post office, a bike shop, and a small elementary school for the few local kids. Last night my Buddy Mochelle invited me up for a town “talent show”, featuring numerous musical acts of the kids, all put on as a fund raiser for the elementary school. What a bright, positive event for a beautiful community. As usual, watching the kids up there performing, made me think of my old students.

As George Bush fades into history, every person will have to make their own decisions as to who the man was and what his intentions were. It is best to let some time pass before making those judgments, as time has a way of clarifying thought. Thus is the same with my teaching experience. I have always been a zealot in everything I do. In my first life as an attorney, I knew that even if my clients were not innocent, I was the only thing standing between them and the ruinous powers of the state; and I sought to be their knight in shinning armor. As a teacher, I believed that I could SAVE kids from the ruin that is life. I was never a “typical teacher” at heart, I was a social worker with the intent of making every kids life better. I never wanted to teach them about Christopher Columbus and his sailing ships, I wanted to teach them about adventure and citizenship. I fully believed that I was making life long impact on their lives. I thought I was saving kids, one climbing trip at a time. I thought the Red Rocks trips were life changing. In the end, with the clarity of time, I now better understand that the best I was doing was making the “moment” better for the students, and giving them an adventure to remember. Nothing earth shattering, nothing life changing, nothing huge.

There is an old parable about a teacher walking down the beach, and the beach being full of millions of starfish who have washed up and stranded on the sand. The teacher started running around grabbing starfish and throwing them into the water. A passerby commented, “what are you doing, you cannot possibly save all of those starfish?” Wherein the teacher replied as he threw another one in, “no, but I just saved that one.” Our educational system can be explained by that simple parable. Teachers, at least the ones I admired, were running around with the singular goal to save starfish. The school administrators on the other hand, are charged with the goal of running an orderly beach. Administrators cannot have teachers running around at random trying to save starfish, they need rules, policies, and order; even if it costs them some starfish. Thus was the head-butting I did with many administrators; many of whom, like Gene and Polly at West Valley, whom I admire greatly for their ability to keep the starfish at the center of their orderly-beach analysis.

In my role as a zealot, I could never accomidate anything that interfered with my “saving” of the innocent little starfish that entered my classroom. There was not one kid whom I would not have risked my career to try to save; as that is what a zealot does. Looking back, I had the opportunity to work with some tremendous students. People like Danica, Nigel, Rachel, Sierra; these kids would have turned out to be perfect people whether or not I was ever in their lives; so the most I could do was to try to open doors for various opportunities; and merely enjoy the time that I got to spend with young people who were, are, and always will be far better people than I ever was/will be. For my time with them, I am merely grateful.

There was another level of students who would have been the same caliber of perfect kids, if they would have had better parents and role models. For this group I tried to give the emotional support, help them find success, and try to get them as much time at the rock with such tremendous people as Chris Theison, Paula Action Parker, Kevin Klim and Brian Hoots, ….; and of course the ever beautiful TonyZ. I grew up without an abundance of great positive educational rolemodels, and I wanted to make sure these kids had some in their world.

And I received great rewards for my efforts. The pride I felt when I had JohnnyB, David, and the group of knuckleheads wiring the schools in Metaline Falls was purely heartfelt. The smile on Rachel Vandergirlens face when she entered my classroom every morning was worth a lot of sacrifice. Having Nigel take care of my network, classroom, hotel reservations, and almost every other issue in my life was reward in itself. Watching Kayla thrive in the climbing realm while struggling with her personal life made me believe that climbing was the answer, the solution, the elixir. Seeing Liz take over an entire school in her senior year, and become such an effective leader validated my year. Hundreds of students, each with their own struggles; each with their own successes/failures; each with their own reward. While at the time I took some “credit” for a lot of these successes, now looking back I see it as merely keeping the starfish in the water long enough to where they could save themselves. I did not save any of these kids, I merely helped some of them save themselves.

Each person will have to judge George Bush for his time in office. I tend to think of George as more of a fool who was guided by evil people, than I do see him as an evil person. I have no doubt that George, in his own mind, thought he was doing right. Through the coming years people will judge me on the success or failure of my teaching career. I know that my heart was pure, my intentions were honorable, and my efforts were carried out with zeal. Whether anything I did was successful, each will have to make their own decisions.

As I watched the talent show in that amazing community that is Blue Diamond, I kept thinking of the many beautiful kids in who’s life I have had the opportunity to share but a mere moment. Each with their individual talent, drive, motivation, and personal issues. It made me wish that I really could save starfish. Life is, after all, merely a talent show.

Love to all…

I left Spokane on Monday about noon. I drove the truck so that I could take my bike with me. The truck only got about 19 mpg, was uncomfortable to sit in, and could barely keep up with the speed limit on most of the hills. Bringing my piece of crap bike with me cost me an extra $80 in gas, an extra two hours of driving each way, and a sore back. All so that I could bring my crap bike, with a seat that performs anal exploration every time I sit on it. Perhaps I will learn from the experience.

I had a nice few hour nap at a rest stop in southern Utah, then drove in to Vegas about noon on Tuesday. I immediately went to the place that has been my “home” for many years, the campground. I grabbed the last open campsite, taking that as a sign that the gods were smiling down upon me. I felt at home.

I spent Tuesday on my bike. Now, I had watched numerous videos of people riding off road, and it did not look too hard. I rode out from the campground a mile or so on some real rocky stuff. I went off the bike a couple times, when a rock would suddenly turn my bike a direction that I had not anticipated. While most would have learned a lesson about wearing a helmet through such adventure, my primary lesson was to start wearing proper shoes instead of sandals. I was pretty exhausted when I got back to the campground, but decided to ride up to Calico Basin and look around. The ride was on road, with a slight uphill, but by the time I returned my legs were cramping and my butt felt “explored.”

I went into town to check the phone and email messages. I finally found a nursing home parking lot that I could park in and find some wireless service. Being the time of year it is, the campground got dark about 5:00, and I was in bed by 6, probably asleep by 6:30. After a good 13 hour rest I go up to start my Wednesday.

Wednesday: After running downtown to check my phone/email at my new favorite nursing home, I headed into the park to hike for the day. My butt was too tired for the bike, and I still did not feel like climbing yet, so I went with hiking. I stopped and the sandstone quarry and took off to hike up turtle rock. It did not take long to come to the realization that I am too darn fat and old to be doing this stuff. Both on the bike ride and on the hike, I kept wishing I had someone nearby who knows CPR. I actually say this seriously, as my heart would start pounding and my head would go light as though no blood was reaching those heights. I was trying to stay slow enough to not die, yet still keep enough of a pace to reach the top. Sad to be this out of shape. Many points on the way up I felt like there was no way I was going to make it, but kept going. By the time I got to the “top” I had decided that I was not going to dishonor the rock by standing on it’s summit. I did not feel that I had earned the summit, as I was slow, near death, and whining to myself the entire way up. I got near the summit only long enough to take two photos, but not long enough to actually take in the view or call it a “summit.” I immediately put my pack back on and headed down away from the top so as not to dishonor the experience.

Still, I have no desire to climb. Surprising, shocking, yet the desire is not there. I think that part of it is that I am so out of shape that I am embarrassed and don’t want to burden a climbing partner. I have come to this conclusion because I have some desire to go out and just take a nice, slow, solo climb of something, but have no interest in climbing with a partner yet. I also know that, not having climbed recently, I should probably partner up rather than solo; but that is merely discussing the logic rather than the desire. Only time will tell.

Cousin Dan showed up on his “job search expedition” from Alaska. It is nice to have the company, and good to have family around. Dan is a Mt. Bike freak, who is as tuned into the bikes as I was into climbing for so many years. Dan pulled out his wrenches and has removed the bike seat from my backside, allowing me to now sit on it without sexual contact. All of this was merely in preparation for the “home colonoscopy” that some friend will soon hopefully volunteer to perform. (Still seeking volunteers; anyone?)

As I type this part of the update, I am sitting in the greatest office in the world. I am at the highpoint of the Red Rocks loop, sitting on my tailgate listening to tourists, looking over some amazing scenery. Now and then I stop to assist the tourists by taking a photo of them, typically whenever there is a hottie in the group. One of them made me fall in love with a Kentucky accent…. I remember back in about 2002 when I spent bout 5 months here. This was my office. I sat here many times with my laptop hooked to my cell phone job hunting over the internet. Now I do not have the ability to get on the internet here, but can certainly sit here and type. It is a good life. I think I am going to buy me a lawn-chair tonight as it will make it easier to type.

Thursday was a rest day. For the first time in about 5 years, I have started to read an actual book. “Where Men Win Glory,” by Jon Krakauer. The Pat Tillman story. The book offers a lot of great history on the Afghan crisis, and of course goes into the history of Pat Tillman. Personally, I thrive on the Afghan issues, and find myself skimming the parts of Pat growing up. I don’t really care what he was like as a kid, I am only interested in the events surrounding his sacrifice and the historical references on Afghanistan. I do recommend about half of the book as a must read.

Thursday night cousin Dan learned that one of the theaters in town was showing the “Ride Across the Sky” movie. It was some sort of special showing of the Leadville 100 bike race. The race starts at over 10,000 foot elevation, and goes up from there to about 12,500 feet, is on mountain bikes, and half of it is off road. The goal is to finish in less than 12 hours. If the movie ever comes to your area, it is a must see for any athlete. Well done.

With that in my head, and thinking about my lackluster climb of the turtle earlier in the week, I woke up Friday morning with some grander goals. “Race to the Sky”: This time I decided that I would re-climb the turtle, but start from the campground. The campground is at about 3200 foot elevation. I packed up a day pack, with nothing but water, camera, gps, bike lock, …. Damn, by the time I headed up the road it was getting darn heavy. I rode my bike up to Calico Basin and parked it at the Springs parking lot. There I was lucky enough to run into Smart Lisa and one of her many beautiful friends (mental note: hang around with Smart Lisa more.) Lisa and (Jillian?) were headed out to climb Physical Graffiti, which was the same direction that I was heading, so I escorted them as far as the paths were joined, then bid them farewell. Watching them take off up toward the climb, I felt the desire to climb for the first time on this trip. But my plans were already set. It was really nice to see them, but it was also nice to watch them go…. :)

I headed up over Aasguard Pass. (By the way, I am renaming most of the stuff here at Red Rocks, often because I don’t know the real name, often just because I like my naming strategies better. Think of it as a Viking tradition, when we “discover” a land, we claim it as our own and rename everything.) 600 feet up, then 300 down the other side. I passed numerous other people on the “trail”, making me feel like my conditioning was coming along nicely. From the other side, I skirted the rocks and hiked the trail to Sandstone Quarry, then immediately set my sites on the Turtle (hereinafter renamed, “Odin’s Perch”). I passed numerous people on the way up, but was definitely feeling the exercise. While on Wednesday I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, I did not have that experience on this trip. Instead, I merely felt like a fat old man who had no business climbing this hill. I thought a lot about last night’s movie, the struggle, the “digging deep” to find that hidden strength. Toward the top I had to get into somewhat of a rest-step, trying to hike 12 good strong steps (only counting the right foot, otherwise 24 steps) and then stop for two breaths. As I went over the ridge and was hitting the back side of the summit, I was trying to increase the number of steps between stops just to push myself, and had a pace of 40 steps between stops going by the time I hit the summit. From the summit I called my buddy Mo Moshell, and gave her the statistics from the GPS so she could write them down for me (love ya MO). The summit was 6324 feet, and it had taken me 2 hours 27 minutes from where I parked the bike, 4.75 miles back. This time I felt like I had earned the summit, and stood up there for about 2 minutes taking photos before heading down. As I left the top I grabbed one of my “sandwiches”, consisting of sliced turkey, cheese, peanut butter, and yellow bell pepper on a tortilla shell. Tasted pretty good at that moment. I ate the sandwich as I headed down.

Heading down from “Odin’s Perch” I was starting to feel strong (probably the sandwich). I thought of the beauty of competition and challenging ones self. I thought of racing my buddy Garth on the Wonderland Trail about 10 years ago. We were hiking in about 6 miles, Garth was the hired Guide hiking with the fast group; I was hanging back to encourage the slow people at the back end. I finally decided to head to the front and took off up the trail. About a mile ahead I caught up with Garth and all the faster people, passed the group and told Garth “lets go buddy.” With Garth being the Point, and the rule being that no one can go ahead of the Point, I told Garth it was time to start moving. It did not take long before Garth caught on that this had turned into a competition. I kept pushing him from behind, and Garth kept finding another gear to stay ahead of me. We raced for about a mile and a half before I finally collapsed in the middle of the trail and told him that he had succeeded. That was the first time I had felt the competitive journey since high school, and I have always thanked Garth for the adventure.

I also thought about Manch. Manch was an 18 year old stud who suffered from ADHD, but instead of whining about it, he put it to use. Manch used that amazing energy to excel at everything. At 18, Manch was the best leader of students whom I have ever had the privilege to work with. During one of my trips bringing students to Red Rocks, I put Manch in charge of leading the 10 day adventure. Manch and I were monitoring students as they were out Geo-caching in Calico Basin. Manch, being the ever energetic one, would put his legs into gear and cover ground like no one else I have seen. Manch and I were walking, and made the decision to go check on students up on “Skull Gap”. Manch took the lead and started walking, and I kept right up. I could tell that it almost bothered Manch that I was keeping up, so he changed gears and started covering the ground; and I kept up. Manch and I then had about a 2 mile unspoken race across the desert, finishing with a sprint up Skull Gap. By the time we arrived, there was merely a smile of acknowledgment on both our faces; he had no clue how utterly DONE I was at the moment.

These were the thoughts I had in my head as I came down from Odin’s Perch today. Beautiful thoughts. Satisfying thoughts. Thoughts that did not involve lawyering, courts, or ex-wives.

When I got back down to Sandstone Quarry, I immediately jumped back on the trail toward the bike. I felt like jogging, sort of a euphoric feeling of invincibility; but I let my brain overrule my newly perceived youth. I knew that I still had a long way to go. I knew that if I went around the east end of the rocks, it would probably add a mile or two to the hike, and would give me about the same elevation gain/loss. The whole way up the mountain was basic anaerobic conditioning, building the lungs and muscles; but at this point my body had turned to pure aerobic fat burning, so I decided to take the long way back, hiking past the first two pullouts and down the canyon toward the end of the rocks. At about the first pullout, I shoved down the other sandwich, and was feeling my body crash. By the time I reached the end of the rocks, rounded Skull Rock and headed up and over the gap, I was walking slower then even my age should have dictated. I was done, I was exhausted. I finally plodded up and over the gap looking pretty pathetic, and down to my bike. The entire walking portion of the trip was about 10 miles, and took just over 4 hours. I then had to jump back on my bike and get back to camp.
I remember my father always telling me that he had to walk a bunch of miles to school every day, “up hill, both ways.” I swear that the way back to camp was also uphill, even though the GPS says that I lost a bunch of elevation. I came to a tiny, slight hill, and almost had to get off and push the bike up because my legs were so spent.

Overall, a good and satisfying day. I know that if I did this often enough, I would start to feel worthwhile again. I think that today was a positive step in my delawyerization process.

I think I was in bed by about 6:30 on Friday night. I woke up Saturday morning with the feeling of climbing. All it took was a short walk across the campground to get another pay envelope, I almost had to stop and rest, and I distinctly heard my body screaming “take a rest day dude!” Thus I find myself down at borders books (my new internet spot) enjoying a double shot eggnog latte which should act as a “system cleanser” and thus allow me to start my nutritional caretaking anew.