Friday, February 27, 2015

The Real Story

I am blessed to work for an online newspaper, Prescott eNews, and home of my features column, Fitness Quest.

So, I knew I should start blogging daily, from the first hike.  The problem was I was still at my old job at the Humane Society, and I was going nuts.  Literally.  I called my neurologist and that was his diagnosis over the phone.  He said to go take a hike.

Hiking is the only form of exercise I do not loathe.  However, I do loathe, detest and despise exercise.  You see, the first month of any exercise is miserable.  Not the tiredness-the whole I can't breathe syndrome.  My throat tightens up, and I just can't breath.  Not a big deal as water reopened it, but not fun, either.  The only thing I had going for me in all of this was this:

Thumb Butte


This is Thumb Butte, in beautiful Prescott, Arizona, where I live.  It is my favorite hike, and relatively tough for a not-in-shape person as myself.  The thing is, I know this hike like the back of my hand.  I could likely manage it, and it would soften the horrors of not being able to breathe.  I threw out a wide net on Facebook, asking if anyone wanted to hike with me the next morning.  A few friends said they could hike later in the week.  Then I got a message from my friend Ian; he needed to get back into shape and had time available two mornings a week.  I asked my husband if he minded me hiking with a dude, and he was cool with that.  Because he totally hates my thighs.  The idea of me hiking with another guy was outweighed by the fact his wife was voluntarily trying to get fit and lose weight; that and he trusts me implicitly, and the fact that Ian looks alot like my Uncle Fred.  Just sayin'.

So on the morning of February 11th, I hauled my sorry butt up to Thumb Butte.  It was freakin' cold, because we live in the high desert of Arizona.  I had to go to work right after, so I threw on a yellow Michigan sweatshirt (because banana yellow becomes everyone) over a white tee and then my jacket.  Ian showed up ten minutes after I got there, in which time I had become rather cold (lesson learned - wait in the car) and it had really sunk in what I was about to do.  The agony of the breathlessness.....and the fact Ian would likely want to go up the steep side.

Yes, the steep side.  Thumb Butte #33 is a circle trail that goes up one side of the mountain.  There is a steep side that is about .6 miles, and a not so steep side that meanders 1.3 miles up to the same point. (The precipice is not reached from this trail, and is currently closed for the hawk mating season.  Yes, really.)  I am a particular fan of the not steep side - I truly believe it to be a better workout as its a longer distance of cardio activity.  Typically, I can do the steep side in 25 minutes, and then FREAKIN RUN DOWN THE OTHER SIDE.  Seriously.  Gravity is a huge helper.  To go up the "non-steep" side - now remember, it's still a 1000ft climb regardless of which way you go, takes me about 35-45 minutes.  Regardless  of my argument, EVERYONE I know thinks the steep side is the way to go up.  Turns out, Ian was no different.  The look of abject horror on my face must have convinced him otherwise, and he agreed to go up "the wimpy way."  We'd switch weeks, deciding which way we went up the butte.  Oh, joy.

So, immediately I couldn't breathe, but luckily for me, Ian had a hellacious weekend which he proceeded to tell me about.  I basically could only grunt in reply, but he didn't seem to mind.  He was actually quite the gentleman, slowing down and waiting for me if I got too far behind (this would change in the weeks to come.)  By the time we made it to the top, I had earned my rest and the view that I came for:

View of Granite Mountain from Thumb Butte

Ian, of course, thought this view was better, as it features the Butte:


Me sucking in my stomach.

Did I mention Ian's an artist?  Yep.  That's why I like hiking with him.  His perspective is different.

My perspective, however, is that I now got to go down the steep side, and enjoy the nice core workout.  My lower back, which was tweaked pretty badly, found the descent to be heavenly.  Ian complained about something (shins, whatever, I wasn't too concerned because I had my way.)  By the end of the hike I was thrilled to see we had completed it in under 45 minutes, which was great for me.  We agreed to meet up every Monday and Wednesday for a morning hike, and parted ways.

That's how I landed in the New York Times in hiking gear:

Honestly, this was in the New York Times.

Yep, the pony tail I pulled up while nearing the summit of Thumb Butte is the same pony tail you see here.  At least I had taken off the very unbecoming yellow sweatshirt.

How and why I was in the New York Times has nothing to do with my Fitness Quest, but it does have something to do with the fact that I know a lot of firemen.  Like most of them.  I'm their curator.  Because every fire department needs a curator.

Long story.

So, one of the firemen's wives, Dotty, agreed to go hiking with me on Friday.  This is me on Friday afternoon, after I left my old job for the last time:

Last day at YHS!

I'm still amazed at how good my hair looks in this picture.

Later that night, Dotty and I took off on the trail near our homes, a 3 mile loop we simply call the Williamson Valley Trailhead.  It's part of the Granite Mountain trail system, and an "easy hike."  If you're not banging it out in 45 minutes because you fear the setting sun and oncoming darkness in the land of mountain lions.

Yes, mountain lions.

They look like this:

Mountain Lion


I've seen them personally a bit closer to my home, and I was in their territory.  Dotty had brought her two dogs, and I knew that we had about an hour before darkness, but Dotty hustled to make sure.

Hiking with people who are not your husband is hard.  They kick your butt.

The next day, I had to settle for a trip or two up and down my driveway.  Since I live on the top of a mountain, it's about 600ft elevation change.  Here are the dogs:

Bowie is on the right, Giup is on the left.

Please note the total lack of control over them I have.  It's all I can do to stay upright, but I got in about a mile and definitely lost my breath.  So I figured I'm doing alright, right?  I'm hiking, and I haven't had any neurological problems at all, right?

Then the quest really began.







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