Running with Kona

Pillars of Strength--A Mountain Prayer

2012-02-14T05:01:00.000-08:00

I'm honored to join the ranks in support of a special, courageous canine and her family. K was diagnosed with osteosarcoma not long ago. She has a battle before her, but an army behind her.

We invite you all to visit The Thundering Herd, one of several Pillars of Strength organizers, to see the blog roll and read other posts from K's army.

This is to KB, The Runner, K, and R

Words by John Muir

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
Oh, these vast, calm, measureless mountain days, inciting at once to work and rest!
Days in whose light everything seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God.

Nevermore, however weary, should one faint by the way who gains the blessings of one mountain day;

whatever his fate, long life, short life, stormy or calm, he is rich forever.

Sunrise Sunday Plus Questions!

2012-02-12T18:03:00.000-08:00

We've been tagged by our friend KB to play a question game. So along with Sunrise, we present you our answers: (Following KB's lead, both Kona and I play along).

1. Describe yourself in 7 words:
AC: Endorphins addict, biophiliac hypothesis enthusiast, chocolate lover
Kona: The lean, mean, supreme, squirrel chasing machine.

2. What keeps you up at night?
AC: Large quantities of brownies. Caffeine after 1pm.
Kona: My human. She comes over and pokes me, saying, "Kone-Bears, wake up. It's only 5pm. It's not time for bed yet. You're gonna wake up at 4!" Whatever that means.

3. Who would you like to be?
AC: The thought of being stuck in some one's or some thing's body is quite unnerving, so I might have to pass on this one.
Kona: My human calls me a "special dog." I'm pretty sure this means everyone wants to be me.

4. What are you wearing right now?
AC: Really, really old sweat pants that should never be mentioned in public. They are standard, after 6pm attire.
Kona: Red fur coat. Stay back now, PETA.

5. What scares you?
AC: Large-bodied spiders.
Kona: zzzzzzzzzz
AC: Kone-Bears, it's only 6pm.
Kona: zzzzzzzzz

6. What are the best and worst things about blogging?
AC: I'm continually amazed by the support within the blogging community. I'm also grateful for all I learn from fellow bloggers. I first ran into blogville while searching for information to help Kona gain confidence. Not only did I learn about fearful dogs, I continue to learn about a plethora of subjects. Dog agility, animal tracking, regional stories, operant conditioning, book recommendations...You all rock!

The worst part...wishing I had more time to comment, write, and soak up the blogville goodness.
Kona: I hate cameras.

7. What's the last website you visited?
AC: hipcooks. Take a class when you're in L.A.
Kona: Website. Hm. You mean spider WEB and, "Look! I SITE a deer!"? I don't like webs. In fact, I tend to freeze when one pounces me. But, I like pouncing frozen deer, so maybe it all balances. That's like yin and yang, right?

8. What's one thing that you'd change about yourself?
AC: I'd love to not panic at the thought of being out past 8pm.
Kona: I'd like turbo rockets on my feet to refine my squirrel chasing technique.

9. Slankets? Yes or no...
AC: Had to look this one up...It could be a step up from the current sweats.
Kona: zzzzzzzzz

Moon Chasers

2012-02-10T17:57:00.002-08:00

Kona was finally back to herself this Tuesday. We celebrated with our first real run in over a week. The moon put on a show to celebrate with us.
We became moon chasers.
Around every bend the moon struck a new pose.

As the day dawned, we finished our series of steep hills. My lungs relaxed in the satisfaction of hard work.
Kona seemed content the gaze on the new morning. Ah, to run by moonlight and watch the day break! It was a happy dog and girl morning.

After Sunrise

2012-02-06T14:14:00.001-08:00

I relish the first colors of the morning. Out with Kona, we have the first moments of the day to ourselves. But, like a kid after the last present on Christmas morning, once the sun crests the horizon, my anticipation is left standing. It's gone, over.

This weekend, when the sun rose across the Eastern mountains, the sky nearly knocked me off my feet. The day has only begun, the sky proclaimed.

Every space from sky to land vibrated with energy from the new sun. The crisp landscape glimmered in a way I seldom see.

Kona and I had the morning to ourselves. It's a morning I'll remember.

Freedom Friday

2012-02-04T18:57:00.000-08:00

When I arrived home Friday, Kona was there to greet me. Her welcome ran at half-spunk, but compared to hiding behind the chair the day before, her greeting was a good sign. Kona was less fearful of me, which meant she felt physically better. I took it was a green light for an easy outing.
We hadn't seen our trails for three days. Kona, who still becomes nervous on afternoon hikes, seemed happy to explore.
She showed off her two-legged stance,
and found not one, but two sand piles that needed digging.
We're still taking it easy this weekend. I think Kona has a minor muscle strain. She made several flying leaps during this outing (while I winced in anticipation of a further strained limb), to no ill effect. She still seems pitiful when she jumps up from bed, so we're keeping an eye out. But, I think we'll be at full force soon.
Half-force works fine too.

Birthday Romp Postponed

2012-02-01T12:42:00.000-08:00

Today's Kona's 4th birthday (or so I say since I don't know the date for certain).

I hoped to take Kona for a special romp--a long trail run into our higher forests. Unfortunately, during a game of "Lizzy" yesterday ("Lizzy" involves as much keep away of her stuffed lizard as it does fetch), Kona ended our session slinking away from me.

As some of you know, Kona becomes afraid of me when she's sick or hurt, so I knew she tweaked something. Usually she literally shakes off these tweaks and is ready to go again. That wasn't the case yesterday. I knew she wasn't well when we went back inside and she stood frozen, drooling by the window.

But don't worry. I don't think Kona's hurt badly. As an extremely sensitive dog, being physically uncomfortable can scare her. I know one of her front limbs is the culprit, but it's hard to tell which one or where the pain is coming from. I take that as 1)nothing is broken and 2)nothing is badly torn.

So we're hanging low for awhile. I'm trying to give Kona extra space while she's still nervous around me, which is hard, being that I want to squish the birthday pup in hugs. But I'll resist. There are plenty of birthday treats on the menu instead.

Who Stole Winter?

2012-01-28T17:23:00.000-08:00

I looked at the monthly weather report and counted seven days of weather over 80 degrees so far in January.
I suppose our temperatures sound divine for some snow-laden Spring Dreamers.
But, when your Summers linger into early November, being robbed of Reliable Cool just isn't, well, cool.

Kona and I search for shady patches during our afternoon hikes. This becomes quite the challenge in chaparral country, where shade deficient shrubs rule.
Maybe, just maybe, we'll see our foothills dusted with snow this season. Any snow dancers in the house?

Sunrise Sunday

2012-01-22T15:58:00.000-08:00

Relief

2012-01-16T13:37:00.000-08:00

I took a deep breath, letting the humidity bring life to my lungs. Kona made her rounds to the abundant smells brought by the morning dew. We haven't had substantial rain in over a month. While lasts night's moisture was trace on the record tables, all life at dawn soaked up the overnight mist.
For the first time in weeks, I felt the crisp air against my nose. Kona had an extra bounce in her gait. Relief settled into my stride as I felt Winter for the first time this season.
We started at a steady run, but when we reached Kona's preferred side of the fireroad, we became a pair of hares, running and stopping as Kona followed her nose. Our run would take longer than planned, but I didn't care.
I stopped to watch the sunrise.

In a rare moment of calm, Kona stopped with me, perhaps contemplating the scents carried on the whispering breeze.
As we started the final leg of our run, adrenaline jolted my senses as a blur dashed across the trail in front of us. The coyote stopped just off the fireroad, no more than 10 meters away. Judging by her puffed fur and the raised hairline across her back, her adrenaline spiked as well.

It took only seconds for the coyote to relax. She soon came back onto the fireroad and trotted away. "Away" happened to be the direction we were headed. We jogged behind her for awhile until she decided to move down the canyon.
My encounters with coyotes are often up close, but their behavior always follows the same pattern. They freeze when I freeze, move when I move, move when I'm frozen if they don't feel threatened. And while we essentially chased this coyote off the trail this morning, we saw her again during our return trip. Coyotes who live so close to neighborhoods need a certain boldness towards humans to survive. I was glad to see this one seemed to be thriving.
I walked the final stretch to the car, trying to stretch out our trail time. With happy lungs and a happy dog, it was hard to say goodbye to the morning.

On Form and Process

2012-01-11T17:56:00.000-08:00

Spending over a year with a spasming hamstring, sore tendon, and aching hip got me thinking. Maybe it's time to figure out a way to stop hurting. I've done my share of RICE, stretching, strengthening, but as those who've experienced injury know, some pains come back, rehab and initial recovery be damned.

This time around, I'm working on my running form, hoping to find biomechanical errors at the root of my protesting legs.

Up first? Stabilize my pelvis to limit the lateral movement in my hips. Up second? Land on my midfoot instead of my heel. What does this all mean? It means I get to focus my mind in a new way. When I'm asking my abs to steady my pelvis (to myself of course, not out loud) I can't spin my head around what's on the plate that day. Hard running always has a way to silence my mind because all attention turns to getting oxygen into my lungs. But focusing on form now lets me turn easy jogs into moving meditation. It's another tool to bring me into the moment, something our dogs model so well. Awakening the moment lies at the heart of seizing the day.

And so I talk to my pelvis.
How's it going so far? Well in only a couple of weeks, the hip-stabilizing has worked like a magic pill. My hip doesn't hurt anymore. I'm half hoping for my usual twinge to come back because, really, did I just spend a year hurting when the answer was so simple? Perhaps battle, force, and will don't always top the podium.

The midsole strike hasn't gone so well. In an attempt to avoid striking the back of my foot, I've swung too far forward and started striking my forefoot. Running on the balls of my feet has awaken all sorts of muscles in my lower legs. While I enjoy the muscle-discovery of funky soreness, this wasn't the plan. The midsole strike is being readjusted.

As one change works and another requires more change, I'm becoming more excited about the process of adjusting my stride. This won't happen overnight. Instead, I get to set goals (figure out a way to run that doesn't hurt), create steps to reach those goals (hello pelvis, hello midfoot), and adjust and zig-zag and enjoy the journey.
We humans struggle to live in the moment, partly because of the gifts of foresight, dreaming, and reflection. As I focus on my running form, I get to watch a process unfold in the present moment, and let a future goal shape the now. It's not about willing myself or struggling to a certain end. It's about adjusting, responding, asking, shaping. . .because missing all the mole holes along the way is a travesty of life.

We did it!

2012-01-06T17:12:00.000-08:00

We headed West, traversing the top of the hillside.
Meandering from one side of the fireroad to the other, we took our time.
We paused to check on the moon, still awaiting its glory hour.
We wished sweet dreams to the city,
and bid the sun farewell.
We took time to bask in the last rays of the day.
That, my friends, is how we first hiked to see sunset.

Wordless Wednesday: Camouflage Dog

2012-01-04T17:21:00.000-08:00

It's 2012!

2012-01-01T17:11:00.001-08:00

I can't think of a better way to start a new year than a morning on the trail. I've learned over the past three years with Kona that the better part of the city thinks the same. After frustrating trail attempts from previous years, Kona and I applied our best skill this morning....early.
We plodded along well before the sun rose. I left the headlamp behind, comfortable on the familiar fireroad, but half worried about tripping over bodies as we jogged through the dark. It wouldn't be the first time Kona and I had run into people rolled up in sleeping bags on our ridge. Holidays bring out many the eager, ableit ill-prepared and ill-informed adventurer. Lucky for us, the trail was all ours. Well, almost.
After our first turning point, I heard the dreaded, thump, vuuuuum, thump.

The paperboy flew through the neighborhood below us. While normally not newsworthy, to Kona, the paperperson might as well be the automotive Grim Reaper. So we ran. Fast.

In a testament to Kona's growing confidence, she recovered quickly. Less than a minute later, I froze dead in my tracks. I squinted, trying to make out what stood frozen on the trail in front of us. I wheeled Kona close, taking a few steps forward. A swoosh of the towering tail gave the skunk away. While every other animal runs off the trail when pursued by a plodding AC and crazy-eyed Kona Dog, the little stinker trucked along in the middle of the trail, tail high, for ten minutes! Kona was thrilled.

When our morning company finally found a suitable spot to meander off trail, Kona and I were on our own to enjoy the beginnings of the new year.

Happy 2012 to all our blogging buddies. May the new year bring filling moments of solitude and cherished days of good company, preferably not of the little stinker sort.

Our Failed Sunset Attempt

2011-12-29T17:08:00.000-08:00

With our daily romp put on hold until the afternoon, I decided to capture a rare sight--sunset. So I held out for an extra half hour, leaving home at 3:05, which put us on the trail just before 3:15,

knowing, if we took our time, we'd be on the trail until 4:15,

also knowing, full well, that the sun wouldn't set until nearly 5:00, but the thought of waiting an extra hour seemed near torturous for my waning, wake-before-dawn body,

so I hoped the sun might set early, just for us.
But it didn't. We'll try a different strategy next time.

Calling all Crossed Paws and The Power of the Mountains

2011-12-28T14:53:00.001-08:00

Our kindred adventurers, K and KB, need our support. K is facing a scary medical crisis, potentially having her front leg amputated today. If you haven't already, stop by to lend a crossed paw and send your shout out to bring our friends the strength of the mountains.

The sunrise was for you today, K and family.

Winter!

2011-12-23T16:18:00.000-08:00

Kona and I celebrated the first day of Winter yesterday by returning to a trail we haven't seen in months. The creek trail we usually follow starts in a scary parking lot, so I decided to find the trail entrance further up the road. I found it without a problem. The ten foot tall, barbed wire topped, security camera monitored, closed with six locks gate was hard to miss. I had heard rumors about this entrance to the forest. The gatekeeper was a mystery. Tales circulated about hikers getting locked out at dusk, having to make the two and a half mile trek through a different exit as the forest spirits emerged with the darkness. Sure enough, a big sign hovered above the entrance: "The city does not have the keys to this gate. If you get locked out, you will have to use the other exit."

Lucky for Kona and I, dawn was barely breaking, so we couldn't get locked out in the dark.

As we started down the trail, I was glad to see Kona loose and relaxed, examining the morning scents. At least one of us felt welcomed. I looked toward the grey slopes and canyon ahead and wondered if the forest spirits were still prowling.
I tried to shake the spooks away as I watched the sliver moon hold it's post before sunrise.
Not two minutes past before I heard two men chatting as they ran down the trail behind us. I picked up my pace, wanting to keep some space between us and our fellow runners. As we passed the first trail junction, a man with his husky swung around the corner in front of us. On another day, I may have been bothered by being sandwiched between two parties on the trail, but in the minutes before daybreak, I didn't mind. The husky and his human would clear the path of spooky forest spirits. We were safe.

With Kona traveling at her typical stop, smell, then go fast pace, I began to feel like the live show of the Tortoise and the Hare. The men behind us kept a slow, steady pace. Kona and I shot ahead, only to have the men nearly catch us as Kona stopped to investigate scents. I picked up our pace between sniff stops in an attempt to keep a gap between us and the two joggers.

My lungs heaved in my effort to switch my shuffle to a jog. There wasn't time to take pictures, but when the sun inched over the horizon, I made a sprint to stay ahead and still capture Winter's first sunrise.
We made good time up the fireroad. About halfway to the top, Husky and his human turned around. Kona and I were suddenly in charge of clearing a safe path. But, with the sun up, everything spooky suddenly vanished.

We whisked around the last bend before the top when an eerie cry groaned above us. I heard the wind for several moments before it hit us. 70 mile per hour gusts were forecasted for the mountains, but the sky had been calm. Despite the shadow of the slopes above us, I put on my sunglasses as sand flew up from the trail.

When we reached our turn around point, we didn't stick around long. Kona handles wind fine, but swooshing air gives me the hebegebees.

The descent brought both shelter from the wind and exposure to the gusts, depending on which bend of the trail we found ourselves. Dusty haze covered the city below. Toward the mountains, lonely cloud puffs dotted the sky.
As we approached the curve of a switchback, wind kicked sand into a towered wave that spiralled as it flew around the corner towards us. Kona slid into a hockey stop, spooked by the sudden outburst. I half expected a genie to round the corner on the coat tails of the dust cloud.

When all settled, we continued down the trail. No wind would stop Kona from her lizard patrolling. She trotted along, a happy dog. I was pretty happy too.

Goodbye Autumn

2011-12-21T17:18:00.000-08:00

With the Winter Solstice fast approaching, Kona and I took off early to bid Autumn farewell.

The crescent moon was there to greet us.
While I craved endorphins from a good run, my sore knee pleaded for an easier pace. After hurting my knee during the New York City Marathon last year, I scratched the 2011 running events from my calendar. Long adventures with Kona fell less frequently than I wanted.

It took months for me to figure out what went awry in my leg. After my sore IT band healed, I was able to pinpoint the source of the knee pain that made me feel like I lost my winter season with Kona last year. My marathon quest severely inflamed my hamstring tendon (one of those beefy bands you feel on the underside of your knee). My hamstring is also a mess, often feeling like it's in a perpetual spasm. Whatever happened to my knee in New York decided to stick around. Fortunately, I'm hopeful that I can work with my needy connective tissue.

Our "cold" season is just too good to miss. There are trails to climb, smells to sniff,
skies to watch,
and sun rays to greet.
Kona and I said goodbye to the season this morning, watching Autumn's last sunrise. With Winter hours way, new adventures beckon.

Sunrise Sunday

2011-12-18T18:46:00.000-08:00

Fireball Dog and Sunrise

2011-12-16T13:57:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Koan and I jumped at the chance to see the day awake. Although we started our run before the sun peaked over the horizon, the beginning of daybreak provided enough light to leave my headlamp behind.
My legs were stiff from our long hike the day before, but I felt myself regain energy as we shuffled along in the low light. Kona fell asleep at 4:30 the previous afternoon and showed no sign of fatigue.
As the sky became lighter, giving me visibility to scan the ridgeline for wildlife, I dropped Kona's long line and let her run. And run she did.
Because Kona's fear makes her a flight risk and because she's a bona fide huntress, her chances for off leash romps are few and far between. But I love to watch the little fireball fly when she gets the freedom. I think she likes it too.
After I re-leashed Kona, she settled back into a slow trot, taking in all the scents along the way. I slowed down to watch the sun make it's debut.
I wonder if the sun knew it wasn't the first red fireball to grace the hilltops that morning.

Birthday Exploration

2011-12-14T14:56:00.000-08:00

Birthdays are time to Carpe Diem. So I told myself at 5 o'clock this morning when I couldn't get my eyes open. It took several attempts but I managed to drag myself out of bed and pack my hiking bag. It was my birthday and I was going to celebrate with a morning in the mountains with Kona Dog.
We set out towards our familiar Peak, with the plan to head beyond our usual vista to a lookout point on the ridge above. While I was both apprehensive and excited about exploring new terrain, I had no idea of all the small treasures we would find along the way.

We saw a golden eagle, passed through a graveyard of burned oak groves, punched through crusty snow (snow!) left from Monday's storm, found bear tracks, and learned that old trail runners without remaining tread make for slow-going on downhill snow/ice (renamed, snice) patches. (Many apologies. My camera lost it's battery toward the beginning of our trek. My last attempted shot was of a patch of frozen grass. Had I known the scenes ahead, I may have saved that lost shot).

Upon arriving home, Kona and I celebrated a good morning together. She had two slices of Canadian baken. I had two brownies. With glucose levels restored, I decided to buy myself a birthday present--a new pair of running shoes.

Squirrel and Lizard and Horse, Oh My!

2011-12-13T19:19:00.000-08:00

We've been gone for a season, but are back again.

A schedule change keeps Kona and I away from our sunrises some days, so we're hitting the trails in the afternoon. Some of you may know that afternoons pose extra challenges for Kona. A combination of less energy and more neighborhood sounds can put my fearful girl on high alert. But as more seasons together pass, midday outings become more commonplace, and even offer special adventures.
A balmy 50 degrees made for perfect hiking weather on Kona's favorite trail.

Kona buzzed with nervous energy left over from the car ride to the trailhead. I worried she wouldn't be able to relax. Suddenly, Kona froze and spun around. Coming behind us on the fireroad sauntered the largest animal Kona ever saw. A horse. I pulled Kona off the trail to let the horse pass. Much to my dismay, as the horse trotted by, Kona responded like the beast before her was an overgrown deer.
Just when I thought Kona might stop pulling like her last supper was getting away, the horse turned around towards us again. The rider stopped right by Kona and I, letting us know that her horse was good with dogs; There was no need to pull off the trail. I thanked the rider but let her know that I didn't think my dog was too good with horses. She offered to hang out for awhile to let Kona investigate her first big deer.

I hesitated, but the rider and her horse had such perfect, calm energy that we stuck around. The rider talked casually about dogs while I white-knuckled Kona's leash. After awhile, the horse decided to get a better whiff of Kona, turning his face inches away from my sweet predator. Kona's muscles pulsed. With each exhale from the horse's large nostils, Kona leaped backward. The horse had called her bluff. Kona was way too nervous to make the mysterious beast into lunch.

No sooner had they left that Kona wanted to chase after them again. After several bends in the trail, she forgot about the horse, but continued to buzz with nervous energy. The huntress was primed.
For the rest of our hike, I held on for dear life. Kona slowed only to plead with me. "Can't you move any faster, the squirrel's getting away."
As we explored a new section of trail, Kona's spunk came to use as she helped tow me up the steep terrain.
I made it back to the car in one piece. Despite her antics, Kona seemed not an ounce tired. And remember that girl who was too scared to drink on her hikes? Well horses and squirrels make a girl thirsty.

Perfect Imperfection

2011-08-19T09:17:00.000-07:00

Our Summer weather is unusual this year. Below-average temperatures have been the norm the past few weeks. I've reveled in the cool mornings, soaking them in as we approach September, our hottest month of the year.
We've even had a few thunder storms pass though, leaving us with decorated skies but moving on before opening up into scary rumbles. These are the storms Kona and I like most.

Kona continues to work her recall on the trails. It's a marvelous accomplishment for a pup who was once too scared to look towards me while she scanned the scary world.
We tackled mini-training sessions and big-mini hills.
More and more, we're the most perfect, imperfect trail team ever.

Swimmer's Ear and Sunshine

2011-07-25T14:11:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy couple weeks at the Kona House. While I ran around, Kona recovered from Swimmer's Ear.

But even a tough case of Sideways-head did nothing to dent Kona's energy and we made our mornings on the trail a priority.

Summer comes and goes in waves this July. Just when cool temperatures and overcast mornings become expected, Sunshine breaks the routine.

Extra sun calls for extra lingering.
Whenever I'm tempted to hit the snooze or let Hectic steal my day, I remember I only get one chance to see this morning.

Taking it Slow

2011-07-06T08:51:00.000-07:00

Kona didn't enjoy the firework fun on the 4th but she bounced back without a problem. While really scary events can leave her on edge for days, Kona took to the trails and our yard just like herself.
After our successful peak hike last week, I've been looking forward to our next big adventure. But an onslaught of Summer heat squelched my motivation. The past few days we've stuck to our local trail, taking our time in the warm mornings.
The heat slows Kona down and she didn't seem to mind my sluggish pace. She trudged along in front of me until two deer bounded across the trail.
Finally far enough away from the deer scent, we putted along again.
While I sometimes itch for adventure, meandering close to home can be special too.

Balancing the 4th

2011-07-04T17:46:00.000-07:00

The 4th of July has always been a favorite holiday. I have memories of my mom waking the family to a spirited rendition of "You're a Grand Old Flag." An afternoon of swimming, watermelon and cheesepuffs followed the morning parade.
In the evening, the parents shuttled all us kids to the local high school, where we danced and danced to the live band that always played our request for "Wild Thing." When the sun went down the fireworks began and ended too soon, but the party didn't stop. We shuttled back to the pool for more swimming, interrupted only by the handing out of sparklers and the slicing of the red, white and blue dessert, always white cake with strawberries squished in the middle.

This morning, while "God Bless America" played through fuzzy speakers at the start of the parade route, all I could think of was, "God bless our parents for keeping up with us every 4th of July."

As a hu-mom with a fearful dog, the 4th has become a holiday of management. While I still curse fireworks, this year I wanted to enjoy the holiday celebration. Kona and I started the morning with a ridge run.

Despite the heat, I added an extra leg to our run. It's always easier for Kona to relax, or hide out in her crate, when she's tired. The sun painted a golden landscape in the still morning.
Back at home, we sneaked in some outside play before the sun slowed us down. With a tired Kona dog, I shut the windows, turned on the noisy fan and turned up some music. With my buffering background noise in place, I hopped on my bike to catch the neighborhood parade, like old times.

As I type this, I'm watching fireworks on T.V. and getting ready for the Kona Hideout Countdown. We got a round-one practice last night with our local park's firework show. Before 8:30, Kona will be in her crate, her usual sleeping spot. I'll turn on the air conditioner, two fans and Canine Calming Music. While I try not to turn into a popsicle, Kona will fall asleep.

Tomorrow morning, we'll have quiet back.
Happy 4th everyone!

I Hope This Works

2011-06-30T18:33:00.000-07:00

Kona and I always hike solo. It's our time together and Kona's time away from the scary sights and sounds of the city. We're happy on the trails, just the two of us.
So when a friend invited me on a group hike, an all day group hike, I hesitated. I worried Kona would be scared by the company, which would ruin the hike for both of us.
With Kona, it's easy to overdue things. While exposure to new experiences helps many dogs build confidence, new experiences typically push Kona beyond her ability to cope and only reinforce her fears. But I thought this was a challenge Kona could handle, or so I hoped.
When we met our friends at the parking lot, I opened the car door but left Kona in her crate. I wanted her to hear me talk to our hiking partners, in hopes Kona would connect that these were people I knew. I was happily surprised to see another dog in our group. While Kona doesn't have impeccable social skills, other dogs can still be great icebreakers for her.

When Kona hopped out of her crate, she looked around, sniffed a few ankles and started pulling for the trailhead. And so the five of us humans and two dogs took off for seven hours on the trail.
Kona showed how far she's come with people. While she dodged every outstretched hand, she showed no stress by the new company. I soon relaxed and enjoyed the trail.
Kona led the way. Our group's pace was slower than what we're use to, so we stopped every few minutes to let everyone catch up. Kona kept a lookout for her new "buddies."
Before long, we reached our first saddle.
The wind whipped up and over the canyon. As I held my hat, I looked at Kona for signs of stress. While the wind pinned her tail awkwardly to the side of her body, she looked anxiously only for the next lizard.
We trudged along, tucking in and out of the overbearing wind with each contour of our climb.
After 4,000 feet of climbing, and one close encounter with a sleeping rattlesnake (I, of course, would never almost step on a sleeping rattlesnake. Nope, not me.), we made it to the summit. While the rest of our group sat down for snacks and water, Kona proceeded to entertain everyone with her lizard pouncing (which she didn't give up until it was time to start our descent).
Kona and I, along with a friend, jogged the descent back to the parking lot. Kona showed her only obvious signs of nervousness when my friend jogged close to my heels. (Someone chasing you can be scary!) As long as my friend stayed several paces behind, Kona seemed fine.

My crazy pulling monster willing trotted behind me as we neared the end of our long adventure. We made several stops for water before making it back to the car.
As we jogged into the parking lot, a group of five kids shouted, "Look at the dog!" and Kona's tail went straight to her belly. We made a sprint for the car, where the allure of barbeque chicken overpowered the screeching kids and Kona chopped down a much deserved snack.

I think our day worked just fine.

The Textures of Summer

2011-06-27T19:50:00.001-07:00

Summer near the foothills makes me count the days til Fall. Too far from the coast to feel the cool beach breezes, we're stuck with heat and smoggy haze. While I complain about sticky clothes, Summer's secrets go unnoticed.

As Kona and I jogged our ridge, I wrinkled my nose at our browning landscape. Then the more I looked, the more I noticed the layers of textures, the fine shifts of colors.
Witches hair grew over sumac. I wondered if the parasitic plant would harm it's hardy host. Kona lunged for a rabbit that zigged underneath the sumac's low branches.
Tufts of dry grass dotted our sandy fireroad and mingled beside mustard, still yellow in the early Summer.
I relaxed into a steady pace and Kona panted, pulling slightly ahead. With our easy rhythm, I let go of my brown, bleak, one dimensional season. I let the trail show a different side of Summer.

Happy Summer

2011-06-21T14:35:00.000-07:00

I have a thing about waking up early. To keep myself in bed after I wake up is an undertaking. This morning I planned to hike our highest local peak to celebrate the solstice with Kona. When my eyes flew open at the crack of 4:40AM, my body protested. It wasn't a day for a summit run. I willed myself back to sleep for another 40 minutes and then headed to our ridge to greet Summer.

Had we been at on our high-altitude trail, I'm sure our morning would have felt more like Summer. Being much closer to sea level, we trotted through June Gloom instead of sunshine.
Overcast and misty mornings are normal during the Summer along much of the West Coast as thick marine layers push inland. Here in Southern California, overcast mornings typically arrive in May and June. We sun addicted Southlanders fondly refer to this foggy weather pattern as May Grey and June Gloom.
So while our morning hike felt particularly June, it didn't feel particularly Summer.

And I'm not about to complain about that. It won't be long before morning rays make the Summer air thick and hard to run through. I welcome overcast skies this time of year, though I'm always amazed how hot I can feel when the air is filled with mist and the sun is out of sight. 60 degrees is plenty warm to work up a sweat on our steep hills and with 150% humidity, sweat does nothing to cool you off. It wasn't long before I was wet from both the outside in and the inside out.

In the sticky morning, Kona and I took it easy. Kona tried her best to follow scents she picked up in the breeze, though I wouldn't let her wade into the foxtail-ridden grass.
Before heading home, we practiced some recalls. Kona sprinted through the mist.
Thoroughly sweaty without help from the sun, I jogged the final stretch to the car with Kona panting as she trotted by my side. And with that, we finished our first outing of the Summer.

Sunrise Sunday: Spring Edition

2011-06-19T05:57:00.000-07:00

While we were MIA in blogville, Kona and I remained dawn-chasers. Here are some of our Spring morning views.

The days of snow on our low peaks are behind us but a mild Spring and extra rain dusted our foothills late in the season.

Rainy mornings often caught us by surprise and left us with ethereal skies.

The sun did sometimes come out. This is Southern California after all.
Kona got better at waiting on her silly human's sky gazing.
A special sunrise dedication to all the fathers out there today!

We're Ba-ack!

2011-06-17T16:44:00.000-07:00

Spring is slow to relinquish to Summer this year but our high mountain trails have finally cleared.
Above our canyon trail, nearby peaks clung to melting snow-fields.
Kona, without need for her head towards the sky, reminded me of the important things, like spotting chipmunks.
And watching chipmunks.
And going to distance to meet chipmunks.
And that's why, my friends, that no matter how rocky the path, no matter how far the summit, everyone needs a Kona Dog.
Happy final days of Spring to all of our blogging buddies.

Steam Trail

2011-02-21T17:10:00.001-08:00

The last storm moved through Saturday night. As the sun's rays made it to the gullies of Kona's favorite trail, the ground transformed into a sauna. It was hard to capture in picture but so much water evaporated from the sides of the trail that I could have stuck my face over a pile of grass for a free facial.

Kona was content to bound through the steaming grass, coming home soaked. By the looks of my crazy dog, you'd never know it was sunny and clear outside!

Run! Rain!

2011-02-19T10:10:00.000-08:00

We've had a series of storms move through the region this week, bringing much needed rain to what's otherwise been a very dry 2011. Thursday's forecast called for mostly sunny skies before the largest storm moved in on Friday. Kona and I were quick out the door to catch the break in the weather. Off to our local peak!

The day after rain is my favorite time for a trail run. The infamous Los Angeles skyline is washed clean, leaving sweeping views of the city.
The air feels crisp, leaving bare fingers numb. Kona also loves the scents that seem to be intensified by moisture. She was a sniffing queen.
I shed my vest quickly as we rounded switchbacks up the trail. Our rocky forest had grabbed every ounce of rain, painting the trails shades of green,
and dotting the hillsides with our first wildflowers of the season. Our dry climate doesn't support the fields of flowers that emerge late Spring and Summer in other parts of the country, so these small bursts of color are a fleeting treat.
I shuffled along, feeling stronger than I've been for weeks. My pace was slow but steady. The rains washed the top layer of sand off the trail, leaving rocks and gravel more pronounced under my feet. I kept my gaze downward to keep my footing. I asked Kona to "be my eyes," so when she froze stiff, I quickly looked up the trail.
I scanned the trail above us, the the canyon below us. Nothing. Kona still stood, muscles tense. I finally followed her gaze and spotted two deer, pushing their way up the rocks in front of us.
While we've seen deer on the top of the peak, I've never seen them work up the unforgiving slopes. In the picture below, you can see the rocky hillside that they were traveling through. Our deer may have cushy weather, but they still earn their rugged points.
When I gave Kona the OK to start moving again, she went into a sniffing frenzy. After passing the deers' tracks, Kona spent the next several minutes taking breaks to scan the landscape.
With the deer finally forgotten, we reached our peak. Ice and frost covered our vista point. (So you thought my frozen grass picture at the beginning of the season was cool, right? Well look at this! Frozen sticks!)
We were the only ones at the top. I basked in the solitude, inhaling gobs of fresh air, watching my pup explore with infectious energy.

(Yup, that's frost on that log!)
Bring on the rain!

A Special Day

2011-02-01T14:47:00.001-08:00

Kona turns three today! We celebrated with a trip to her favorite trail. I told her to follow every sniff, chase every lizard, today was her day. (With mad dashes into skin-slashing chaparral, leaps up vertical walls over 8 feet tall and bunny terrorization being exempt from the birthday offering).
It's hard to believe I brought Kona home three years ago. This past year has been transformative for me. I let go the dream of having that dog that goes everywhere with me and instead hold onto the cool canine I do have.
My job as Kona-Mama is to minimize fear, maximize fun and find safe challenges that help expand my dog's world. While that may not include evening strolls in the neighborhood or trips to the park, we're OK with that.
Here's to another year of finding more fun! Happy birthday Kona Girl!

Sunrise Sunday

2011-01-09T13:13:00.001-08:00

The Knee Needs a Challenge

2011-01-06T18:58:00.000-08:00

As you probably know, I did a number on my knee while running the New York City Marathon back in November. I was pretty nervous the first three weeks, when I still hobbled while walking.

Over the last three weeks, I've slowly added running back into my morning trail time with Kona. I gave myself strict guidelines: I couldn't start running again until my knee didn't hurt at all while hiking. I was only allowed to run uphill, as descents put too much strain on my joint, and I had to stop if I felt any pain.

To stick to my guidelines, I've had to stay away from our forest trails. They're just too steep for a bum knee. I was glad to be on the mend, but missed the views from the forest.
Since I've been doing so well, I decided to put my knee to the test. Kona and I set out up our local peak. We hadn't been on this trail since my marathon taper.
While I felt sluggish and my hip flexors complained about the steep terrain, my knee felt fine. The clear sky opened views all the way to the ocean and wispy clouds reflected light from the rising sun.
Kona turned on her power snout at the peak, pacing frantically around scent tracks. It was good to see her engaged and not nervous. The descent to the car is always challenging for Kona on our forest trails. Long time readers know Kona fears most things related to humans and their creations. While she loves to hike away from the trailhead and the neighborhood that surrounds it, retuning toward the city often turns her into a nervous wreck. Today was no different, so I lingered at the peak, letting Kona do her confident Kona-thing.
I also lingered to enjoy the view of the city
and the forest around us.
I planned to hike down to be nice to my knee. Apparently, I don't have much patience for sustained descents. I figure that if I have to look at my feet to stay upright, I might as well look at my feet moving quickly, finishing faster and spending less time looking at my feet.

So down Kona and I ran. I took it easy, more shuffling than running. I thought I would walk the last quarter mile but with Kona becoming progressively more nervous, we pushed on to the car. With Kona safe in her crate, chomping on a handful of treats, I slid into the front seat and smiled.

Knee still in tact? Check.

I think I might be a runner again. The future is filled with more forest peaks to run with my Kona Girl.

Brilliant Beginnings: Happy 2011

2011-01-04T17:35:00.000-08:00

Rain continues to frame our early winter. After the days of grey skies, fresh air and crisp colors emerge.
Kona and I went on a rare afternoon hike, celebrating the first week of the new year and a break in the wet weather.
I couldn't convince the smile off my face, sore cheeks and all. The sky around us swirled with cotton candy clouds. The view toward Downtown shot straight to the ocean, reflecting light off the sea. Kona ran like a maniac, never missing a worthy smell.
I stopped to ask the sky and trail, "Who photoshopped your colors?"
Before leaving, I took a deep breath, smile still glued in place. I looked down at Kona. She sat right by my side, a rarity for my spazz-girl, taking her own deep breaths.

Welcome 2011!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-12-22T13:17:00.000-08:00

We've had rain for the last week! It should clear up tomorrow. Either that or Noah is surely somewhere on the horizon. . .

A Sad Day in the Mountains

2010-12-10T09:00:00.000-08:00

Sorry for my absence lately. It's been a tough week for the hiking community here.

After being missing since Saturday, the body of a local hiker was found Wednesday night. My stomach has been twisted all week after hearing the news of dispatched SAR teams on Sunday. The hiker set out on the same trail Kona and I took to celebrate the Summer Solstice. We took all of our summer high-altitude hikes in the area and it's been the destination of long day hikes for me for some time. The tragedy hits close to home.

Rest in peace, our kindred spirit.

Never loved your plains
your gentle valleys
your drowsy country lanes
and pleached alleys
I want my hills the trails
that scorn the hollow
up up the ragged trail
where few will follow

Up over wooded crests
and mossy boulders
strong thigh and heaving chest
and swinging shoulder
so let me on my way
by nothing daunted
until at close of day
I stand exalted

High on my hills of dreams
the hills that know me
and then up there I'll see
the lands below me
How pure at vesper time
the far bells chiming
God give me strength to climb
and hills for climbing

~Lyrics from Hills by Nightingale.

Sunrise Sunday

2010-12-05T16:30:00.001-08:00

Fickle Fear

2010-12-03T18:28:00.000-08:00

I'm happy to report that my knee is much better this week. I haven't had any pain on our last two hikes, which is a huge improvement from where I was just a few days ago. While I'm still avoiding major hills, keeping things short, and still make a conscious effort at walking downstairs, I feel like I'm finally healing. Thanks for everybody's good wishes and for your concern. While finances won't allow for a PT right now, I trust myself to listen to my body, knowing what's too much, when medical attention isn't optional, etc. Right now, I feel good about my progress and know that I'm just dealing with a stickler injury that's going to take time to heal.

With Kona getting less trail time, a change in her behavior has become more pronounced. "Outside," use to be one of Kona's favorite words. It was in fact the only word that could wake her from her slumber. The yard was a sanctuary where she chased squirrels, helped garden, basked in the sun. In short, it was one place where she was not fearful, where she seemed like a normal dog.

For about a month now, Kona has been afraid of the yard. Or, probably more accurately stated, she becomes afraid when she's in the yard. So much so that she jumps up and down at the fence, trying to escape. While different neighborhood noises have always had the potential to spook Kona, she's never had this kind of reaction. Ever. It's truly been a night and day change. Kona's fears have manifested differently and to different degrees before, but I've never experienced such a drastic change in her before. I'm at a loss.

And I'm feeling heartbroken. The best way I can describe it is imagine one of your favorite activities you share with your dog. Now imagine your dog being terrified of her old favorite thing. With Kona, having so few "safe" places and things makes this sting all the more.

While this has been going on for awhile, It's been more in my face now because I don't have "outside time" to help get Kona's energy out.

*I'm trying to piece together what's happened. Kona's not afraid of the yard itself, but by noises she's hearing in the neighborhood. I first noticed Kona's panicked reaction at the end of August when new neighbors moved in three houses away. They have two young kids, and Kona would go into full flight mode when she heard them while we were outside. But, she only acted scared when she heard the kids. (While kids have always had the ability to really scare Kona, this particular reaction is far worse than anything I've seen before while she's in the yard).

*School started back in the middle of September. The elementary school is at a distance where I can hear muffled kid noises if I'm outside during lunchtime (and really stop to listen).

*During the first week of November, our nextdoor neighbor went back to work and a nanny started coming over to take care of her three month old son. (Kona only ever showed curiosity about the newborn, never fear, but she did seem concerned that a new adult was around when the nanny arrived).

*The bad, generalized yard fear seemed to start (or notch up several degrees) one morning in early November. I stood at the gate to the yard with a cup of tea in my hands when Kona turned briskly around and ran back to the back door. She looked at me with the expression she gives me when I've "done something wrong." I thought I might have spilled some of my hot tea on her. (Still not sure if I did).

Soooo...my best guess is that her fear started with the new neighbors, then with the added school sounds and the changes happening next door her fear went from specific (new neighbor kid sounds) to generalized (nearly any sound). It's so bad now that she actually paces the yard, seeming to anticipate something scary. She can't relax while she's outside.

I've been trying to keep upbeat, with my bum knee already making me feel bummy, so haven't written about this new fear change. But it's been dragging me down lately as I have no clue how to help Kona. She's so instantly over-the-top freaked when she hears something that I don't think any kind of counter-conditioning or other go-to fearful protocols will do any good.

Please send some courage to my Kona Dog.

Ping Pong

2010-12-02T08:40:00.001-08:00

Brrrrr! It's feeling like Winter out here. I had to document our below average temperatures, as our days for caps and gloves are few and far between. (Now all of you with real Winters, I give you permission to chuckle). Look! Frozen grass!
With the rise of the new season came the resurrection of Kona's 30 foot leash. How she transforms with room to romp and explore! Our recent outings have gone like this:

The morning sits quiet, the sun hovering on the horizon.
Out from the slope of the canyon springs a Kona Dog.
With a flying leap, she lands on top of a rock wall.
She then makes a joint-cringing jump off the wall, springs back across the trail and back down the canyon (then repeat). Who needs coffee at sunrise? Just plug into the four legged ping pong ball!

A Taste of Winter

2010-11-23T19:26:00.000-08:00

I bundled up in fleece pants, down jacket and fuzzy gloves. Sure, I'm a cold-blooded Southern Californian but with temperatures in the 30's, I felt justified. Koan and I headed to Kona's favorite trail. The trailhead was empty of cars, a rarity after sunrise. I wondered if the threatening clouds kept our fellow hikers inside.
The weekend brought another Fall rain and the first dusting of snow on our lower peaks. I can't remember so much green this early in the season. In fact, I remember several years when the foothills never changed from their Summer brown hue.
The high peaks to our North held onto their snow cover. While the closer ridgelines sit at lower elevations and rarely get snow, the clouds provided a special winter cloak.
Heading up the trail with trekking poles to support my knee, Kona nearly spun with energy. We explored every flat nook and cranny we could find. I can only walk down a certain downgrade, which significantly limits where and how far we can hike. Taking advantage of the extra exploring helps Kona use up more energy plus, she loves exploring.
Despite having to hobble some, Kona kept a smile on my face. She was a genuine spazz. Her energy level exploded to the point of losing her self control. She seized my moment of slow reaction time to pounce another dog. Fortunately, Kona's pounce victim was a forgiving lab. I knew the lab wasn't too bothered, as she stuck close by, despite being off leash. While the lab turned away from Kona to sniff the ground, Kona looked at her from the corner of her eye. I saw the gleam in her eye grow, followed by a goofy grin. Thankfully, Kona's second pounce turned into a playbow.
As we headed toward the car, Kona still had a bounce and a half in her step. I knew I hadn't done much to wear her out. Some of you asked what's going on with my leg. I suppose without an MRI, I can't be certain but I'm pretty sure I have a wickedly inflamed and unhappy IT band. IT band syndrome is a common overuse injury and I'm sure some of you know the debilitating pain. I delt with IT band problems a year ago but I'm concerned about the level of pain I have. While IT band syndrome pain usually subsides when you stop running, I have pain while I walk and even if I sit or sleep "wrong." Unlike some running aches that I can push through, I can't even imagine running at this point.

I'm really trying to keep my chin up but boy oh boy, I have a hard time being around myself when I haven't had a good workout. I know the coming weeks will be a balance of trying to heal and getting Kona the exercise she desperately needs.

While the Human's Resting

2010-11-21T19:17:00.000-08:00

A message from Kona Dog:

While my human's leg doesn't work, I'm helping with her rehab. I prep the ace bandages (please excuse my Koney-hairs that flew in front of the camera),
fend off wild animals (you may not think this has anything to do with rehab but you could imagine how hard it would be to focus on getting better when you have to worry about leopards. Don't worry, I took care of the lobster and crab too),

and even deliver her socks with new ventilation holes. I thought I was doing good work but she keeps saying something about me having too many energies.

I hope her leg gets better. I don't know if I'm cut out for this rehab job.

Burning Some Energy

2010-11-18T07:03:00.000-08:00

Kona has been bursting at the seams with energy. She hasn't gotten out for a real run in over two weeks now. Add in my pre-race taper, when we spent less time on the trails, and you get a steaming fuse. Unfortunately, I did a real number on my body by making a couple big marathon training mistakes, one being running very few miles on the road. I'm doing what I can to speed up my recovery, but I'm worried that it may be weeks before we run again or even go for a proper hike.

To try and give Kona a good workout, we packed up on Monday and drove to the beach.

This was Kona's third beach visit and she enjoyed it as much as her previous trips. True to Kona form, she was a nervous wreck getting out of the car and down to the water, but once there, she relaxed quickly.

Kona doesn't pay much attention to birds at home but they're the most exciting thing in the world at the beach. She tore up and down the sand, in desperate pursuit, always coming up empty handed.
I picked the quiet corner of the shoreline to let Kona run on her long line. Despite being midday during the work week, other beach goers walked by our spot continuously. I signaled Kona away from the water to create space between us and the potentially scary strangers.
Kona became nervous a few times when families or groups of people walked by but she never had a problem recovering. (The birds help tremendously).
The return to the car turned Kona into a runaway freight train. She was more nervous than she's been in a long time. To my surprise, she did eat all the treats I gave her after she jumped into her crate.

Instead of fighting afternoon traffic, I decided to take Kona to a friend's apartment to wait out rush hour. I also thought it would be a good challenge, without a lot of pressure, for Kona. Nobody was home and the building was quiet. Unfortunately, Kona did not take the new environment well. I packed fun toys, treats, a kong with canned dog food, a bone and her coveted stuffed lobster. Nothing helped calm or distract her. While in her crate, she kept a close eye on me. Any movement from me brought her to her feet, eyes huge, worried about me leaving.

After an hour and a half with Kona becoming progressively more nervous, I decided it was better to deal with traffic than to keep Kona so stressed. On the way out, she pulled on her leash like death itself was after us. The trip reminded me just how much Kona cannot handle people environments. I felt sad and frustrated. I don't like being reminded how challenging fearful dogs can be and how way out of the ballpark Kona's fears are.

On the drive home, I reminded myself that we did have fun,
but we might just stick to the beach next time.

NYC Marathon: Part 2

2010-11-11T13:40:00.000-08:00

The first few miles flew by quickly. I tried to master passing other runners without expending too much energy. As I zigged around people, hopped over sweaters and plowed over water cups, I suddenly felt like my trail running would serve as an advantage. Only in a swarm of 45,000 runners does road running become so technical.

Unfortunately, by mile 5, I knew that all my trail time might become a curse. My feet started to hurt. So did my ankles. But with the force of runners pushing me from behind and the line of spectators becoming thinker along the sidelines, there was only energy to move forward. I ate my first energy gel and took a deep breath.

Around the same time I noticed the twinges in my feet and ankles, Mother Nature payed me a surprise visit. Yup, marvelous timing. While I came prepared, finding a place to take care of business in the middle of the largest running races in the world, with port-o-potties only every few miles, became quite the task. So while I no longer thought about my feet, I did think about how I could only last for so long in my free and flimsy running shorts. Without a bathroom in sight, I made a dash down the ramp of an apartment building and hoped nobody would come out of the front door.

Back on the road, I found my rhythm again. I ended up using a few different people and groups to help me keep my pace. I picked out two tall men wearing bright orange shirts as my first targets. They ran with a steady gait, so I decided to keep them in sight. As they paced ahead of me a few yards, another man kept popping up at my side. He also looked strong, so I should have been happy that I kept running into him, except that he was wearing this beeping machine to keep him on pace.

BEEP beep beep. BEEP beep beep. BEEP beep beep.

And I couldn't lose him. Just when I thought I might pull my hair out from all the beeping, we hit another hill. We were just about at the halfway marker and I lost it. All at once, everything hurt. My feet, ankles, quads. They were shot. I started to shuffle and got dropped by the beeping man. I was glad that the hill wasn't long, but got really nervous when I reached the crest and descended the other side and things didn't get easier. That's when I ran into the worse spectator sign of the day. A man stood on the corner, with a sign over five feet tall. In bold letters it read,

GO RUNNERS. YOU'RE HALFWAY THERE!

Halfway there? My body just fell apart and I'm only halfway there?

The only thing I could do was to keep running. I started focusing all my energy on my stride. Just keep turning it over AC. Don't worry about the finish, take care of this mile. Each water station became a mental checkpoint. Alright, you did it. Now turn it over until the next station.

That's how it went until I hit the bridge leaving Queens. The bridge was long and steep. With spectators prohibited on the bridges, the cheering and music faded into footsteps and breathing. I was truly shuffling and hurting. A man ran up behind me, moving way too fast for how badly I felt. He read the back of my shirt that said, "Run like and animal," and shouted at me,

"Run like an animal!"

I tried my best to smile, through I was dumbfounded by his energy.

"Come on," he continued. "What kind of animal are you?"

A dying one, was all that came to mind, but I only managed another smile.

"You're a cheetah. Common. Run like a cheetah."

And with that, he was gone and I was left to shuffle. As we hit the highest point on the climb and the bridge began to even out, I could hear the crowd in the distance. A huge line of spectators waited at the end of the bridge, cheering with more energy than a double shot espresso. From a distance, it sounded like I put my ear to a seashell, the whoosh of noise like the sea, becoming more pronounced with each step.

After an eternity, I rounded the corner off the bridge and the cheering erupted all around. I hugged the inside of the road in order to take fewer steps around the corner and to stay away from the spectators. I was in no mood to be cheered.

And that's when I was reminded of a couple things. First, when I'm really not feeling well, I don't like being cheered up. "You're looking good!" Well no, actually, I'm not. I just wanted to suffer alone, not with a crowd yelling at me, which brings me to my second reminder. I'm really sensitive to loud noise. So much so that before I bought a new vacuum, I had to wear earplugs to clean the floors because the roar of the old machine made me shudder. Suddenly, the famous NYC Marathon spectators were really bothering me. I felt a bit guilty, a bit Grinch-like. But really, are air horns necessary?

When I came to the 18 mile marker, I was being dropped right and left by other runners. My stomach turned over and I worried that I'd soon have nausea added to my bag of ick. I took deep breaths to settle my insides. Around mile 19, I heard the best shout-out from the sidelines.

"Yay Fatties! Go Fatties!"

I was wearing a shirt with the Team Fatty logo, the team I was running with to raise money for LIVESTRONG. For those unfamiliar with Fatty's story, his blog started as cycling posts and weight loss stories, woven with Fatty-style humor. After his late wife's breast cancer returned, he continued to blog about cycling but also also shared his wife and family's struggle as they waded through Susan's diagnosis and then her passing in 2009.

A result of Fatty's vulnerability is a readership who equally hates cancer, loves bicycles (with the occasional runner mixed in) and is ready to jump at the opportunity to support any of it's members. I got to experience that support at mile 19.

"Yay Fatties!"

I looked over my shoulder to see a lineup of Fat Cyclist sweatshirts, with flailing arms in them, cheering for me. I didn't know any of their names, but it was like seeing a mob of friends. I suddenly felt special. Maybe I was doing well. Maybe I was looking strong. I stood a little taller, threw my arms in the air, and for the first time in miles, had a smile involuntarily take over my face. I was recharged. At least for a few yards.

I was quickly knocked out of my happy place when I rounded a corner to three young kids, maybe nine years old. They all stood with their hands extended, offering high fives. I edged their way, my arm extended, when one of them yelled, "Only seven more miles to go!" With each step making a statement on my body, nothing sounded further away than seven miles.

For the first time in the race, I ran into another Fatty member. She asked me how I was doing.

"Terrible!" I replied (though it was really more like, "Teeeeerible!!!")

"What hurts?" she hollered.

"Eeeeverything!!!"

I started relying on my arms to propel me forward, swinging them hard to compensate for my dud legs. When I finally lifted my head enough to see the cheering crowd, I spotted the perfect pick-me-up sign:

CHAFE NOW. BRAG FOREVER

That one was followed by:

DON'T WORRY, BEER MISSES YOU TOO

And my favorite one of all:

YOU STILL HAVE A REALLY LONG WAY TO GO!

Now that's more like it. The cheerleading wasn't helping much, but my sense of humor was still intact--a good sign.

The mile markers seemed further and further apart but I finally made it into the last turn of Central Park. I could see the mile 26 sign. I pulled all my strength into my legs and cursed whoever thought is was a good idea to have a marathon finish on an uphill. 300 yards, 200 yards, 100 yards. I threw my hands in the air. I made it.

I never felt so happy about being able to walk. I made my way to the medal area where I picked out a volunteer who wasn't just handing out medals, but placing them around finisher's necks. I took a medal from her because that seemed fitting. As I passed more medal volunteers, one woman grabbed my forearm with both hands, looked me in the eye and said, "congratulations." I never felt so grateful for the recognition of a stranger.

Filing out of Central Park took over an hour. By the time I picked up my extra clothes, fatigue swamped my body. I pulled off to the side with other runners to put on my warms layers. I held my bag in my hands and surveyed the floor, wondering if I would be able to bend over to open my bag if I put it on the ground. A German man standing next to me seemed to read by bewilderment. He grabbed my bag out of my hands and held it open for me as I pulled out my pants and jacket.

On the way to the subway, three different people stopped me to congratulate me. I felt the satisfaction of complete fatigue; body, mind and emotion; setting into me. After what felt like an eternity and a half, I made it to the subway.

As I stepped off the train at 42nd, the buzz of Manhattan swirled around. Coats and scarves flew by toward evening destinations. Walking in the opposite direction, I spotted a man wrapped in the silver space blanket they gave us at the finish line. He appeared to be from Europe, perhaps where subways are places to move and greeting reserved for friends. We caught each other's eyes through the buzz of commuters and travelers. He lifted his head and flashed a small smile. His clenched hand moved from under his blanket, and he gave a fist pump in the air. I pulled my hand from under my silver blanket and threw my fist in the air--our gesture of solidarity.

NYC Marathon: Part 1

2010-11-10T14:04:00.000-08:00

I packed my sleeping kit carefully: Fleece blanket, doughnut pillow, silk eye mask, ear plugs. I booked a red eye to New York on Friday, knowing well that the night before the night before the marathon would be my most important night to rest. Pre-race jitters would keep Saturday's sleep unsettled, so I needed a good rest two days out. The only problem? I don't sleep on planes.

With the best preparation in place (including soft pants and borrowing one of Kona's L-Theanine capsules), I touched down at JFK at 5:30 AM with four tossing and turning eye-shut hours behind me.

I surfaced from the subway in Manhattan with my head spinning with fatigue. The morning didn't offer much rest. I met fellow Fatties at Niketown and sped walked to the convention center to pick up my race materials. Through heavy eyes I tried to process all the sights. Skyscrapers sat next to old world cathedrals. Men and women in scarves and black coats line the sidewalks as a mass of florescent-clad runners took over the streets for an organized 5k.
By the afternoon, I battled to focus on my subway map. I met two friends on the north side of Central Park. They waved energetically to catch my attention, helping to jolt me awake. We spent the afternoon site seeing until my eyes couldn't handle more. After dinner with the Fatties, I crashed.

4AM came quickly. My hostel was already abuzz with other runners as we downed our cereal and bagels. I caught my 5:30 bus to Staten Island to begin the 5 hour wait before my 10:40 start time. I realized there was a perk to arriving so early--tent space. The waiting area had two giant tents that sheltered runners from the morning wind. I took my space by the door. As more runners arrived, the tent quickly filled up, heating the indoor space up several degrees and warding off the shivers.

I found myself sitting shoulder to shoulder to a man from Strasbourg, France. I lived in Strasbourg during college. The next couple hours paced along in a mix of French and English, covering mostly important running topics--port-o-potties, shoes, toilette paper.

Before I knew it, we were lined up at the start. Frank Sinatra blared from overhead speakers.

Start spreading the news
I'm leaving today
I wanna be a part of it
New York, New York

The mass of runners inched forward.

These vagabond shoes
They're longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it
New York, New York

I adjusted the energy gels I strapped to my wrist and pulled my cap down on my head. I could see the bridge ahead of us, rising up and away from Staten Island.

I want to wake up in the city
That doesn't sleep
And find I'm king of the hill
Top of the heap

For the first time since I arrived, nervous energy rushed from my head to my toes. All the training, all the fundraising, the e-mails, the ice packs, the planning. This was it.

My little town blues
They're melting away
I'm gonna make a brand new start of it
New York, New York

I double checked my shoelaces. The gun fired and the crowd of runners moved more quickly. I wiggled my numb toes and stretched my stride. We were running now. The paces flew by too fast and as I looked up, I crossed the starting line.

If I can make it there
I'll make it anywhere
It's up to you
New York, New York!

Ouchy!

2010-11-09T18:27:00.000-08:00

I made it to the finish line! There will be a two day race report to come but I wanted to let everyone know that I'm alive. Thanks for all the comments of encouragement and for all the new friends who dropped by to wish me luck. I dug into all your cheers and kind words when I hit mile 16 and needed to stop cursing the world.

I'm home with two thrashed legs and an unhappy knee. The worse ouch of the weekend came yesterday evening after getting off the plane. My mouth exploded with pain and I rushed in for an emergency root canal this afternoon (thus the delayed race write-up). I'm hoping to finally get a normal night's sleep tonight. Kona Dog is bursting with energy and could use a well recovered human.

More to come. . .

And I'm Off!

2010-11-05T10:21:00.000-07:00

My bag is (almost) packed as I get ready to hit the airport in just a few hours. It's been a long time since I've flown or gone to a new city by myself. While I'm pretty comfortable with a new adventure, the travel anxieties have kicked in.

I've tried to prep for today over the course of a couple days to avoid last minute panic and to try and keep things as normal as possible for Kona. Some of you asked what Kona will be up to while I'm in New York. (Our friend Mayzie even invited Kona over for a beer. Mayzie has a thing for beer). Lucky for Kona, she'll get to stay at home with my parents. My parents adore her and she loves them, so it works out well.

Dogs make you think twice about travel. You have to find pet friendly places to stay or find a place to board while you're away. Traveling becomes more precarious with a fearful dog like Kona. Boarding her is not an option. Up until a few months ago, I wouldn't have trusted her with a pet sitter coming to the house. I now feel like there are a couple people who could come to the house in a real emergency to take care of Kona. That feels huge! All the same, I'm so grateful to have my parents to help out.

Thankfully, Kona doesn't have any separation anxiety. I've had to be away for work on a number of occasions, so I'm getting better about not having separation anxiety.

Now I'm off to buy ear plugs, an eye mask and a watch battery.

I'll be back on Monday with a weekend report. Kona will be well rested and ready for more trail adventures!

Maaaaaaaaah!!

2010-11-02T14:17:00.001-07:00

That's my nervous cry. It's less than three days before I'm on a plane, headed to New York. Maaaaaah!! Less than five days before I'm at the start line of the New York City Marathon!

And here's my final plea for donations! I'm oh, so close to my $3500 fundraising goal. As I've mentioned before, I've *promised* to raise this money for LIVESTRONG. The LIVESTRONG brigade will soon be after me, stealing me Triplets of Belleville mafia style, hooking me up to some stationary running contraption to power a video game. (Great movie, BTW, if you need a good evening diversion. Strange, French, cycling humor. Good fun). Anyway, I'm hoping there's someone out there that's thought about donating but hasn't gotten around to it. Please, don't delay. Head over to my fundraising page here. No donation is too small and every dollar helps fund the cancer snubbing services that LIVESTRONG brings to cancer patients around the globe.

Back on the trail, the sky also exploded with enthusiasm this morning.
The eruption of colors matched my energy well as Kona and I headed out for a jog.

Kona was just as lively, taking every opportunity and every inch of leash to dig,
sniff (notice there's nary a clear Kona picture),

climb,
descend.
I tried to slow the crazy pup just enough the take in the new day.

I'm off to look at a map of Manhattan. More race week updates in the next couple days!

Back to the Peak

2010-10-27T14:35:00.000-07:00

Today marked the return to our local peak. We abandoned this trail in late spring when the foxtails took over. The narrow single track with steep climbs and drop offs gave little room for Kona to avoid trouble with those barbed seeds.

This morning, I waited until dawn before arriving at the trailhead. I don't like to run alone with Kona in our forest before sun-up. I'm sure the big predators aren't any less active when we arrive at sunrise but having more light gives me peace of mind.
Because the trailhead sits on a street with through traffic, there's always more activity compared to our neighborhood trails. Subsequently, Kona has more trouble moving from the car to the trail. Unfortunately, the street was abuzz with pre-work activity and Kona was a freight train out of the car.

Right after getting off the street we ran into a pack of dogs. Two were still leashed and walking down a different trail and the other three were close to the entrance. I knew right away that the smallest of the off leash dogs was going to be trouble. Poor Kona was stressing and this little dog got all in her face, huffing and puffing. While the two big dogs were no trouble at all, this little guy would not let us move. He got snarly every time I tried to move around them. I gave their human a firm shout out, "Call your dogs."

She did, and not one of them looked up. While the human kept walking away, yelling for her dogs, the little dog kept at Kona. I finally tried body blocking him. When that didn't work, I gave him a strong poke-shove. Voila! He got the picture and moved away enough for us to get by. Yikes. While I don't condone using physical force on a dog. . .well, don't mess with my Kona.

Starting up the trail, I was both peeved and pissed. Why does someone bring a pack of dogs with no off leash skills and questionable social skills and let them run loose in an area with coyotes, mountain lions, deer, not to mention other dogs?

(Deep breath AC. Enjoy the sky.)

I stayed dissociated for awhile, flustered about the dog encounter. Before I knew it, we were at the mile marker. I was shocked how easy those first few minutes felt. At 2.5 miles, the run to the peak isn't especially long but it is all uphill and usually leaves me huffing and puffing. Not today! My legs felt strong and the climb (dare I say) felt easy. I felt a smidgen more confident about my marathon training.

Kona pulled out in front. She always seems nervous on this trail. I knew by her active nose that she wasn't that stressed but she did look all business. When I stopped to take pictures, Kona stood at full alert, sometimes looking worried about movement down canyon.
The ridge above us came closer and closer as we ran each switchback towards our peak. The forest just beyond the ridge was destroyed in last year's massive fire. Kona and I peaked into the burn area earlier in the year and it was truly a sight. Because the forest is so steep and rocky, the burn area will be closed indefinitely to keep hikers safe from landslides. I'm grateful that we still have trails to run.
We continued to make good time and made it to the peak at a record pace. As is tradition on this run, I let Kona pull me around the flat vista. Her nose worked double time, sounding like a vacuum.
Kona zig-zagged around the foundation of an old resort. While fires took the luxury destination years ago, remnants of the past still remain.
Before leaving, Kona stood at the edge of the old entrance steps, the city sprawled below her.
As winds kicked up, Kona stuck her nose in the air, edging too close for my comfort to the drop off just beyond her paw. It was time to get moving again.
As we started our descent, I was reminded how much I enjoyed our peak trail. Running downhill can be miserable, except when the terrain is just steep enough, just technical enough, just fast enough to feel like a rollercoaster! Once I convinced Kona to stay behind me, there was no braking. I turned up my proprioception to save my ankles and let gravity work.

I felt like I had springs in my shoes. We zigged around rocks and snapped around switchbacks. Kona's feet were fast at work behind me. Before I knew it, we passed the trailhead and headed toward the street.

Kona, the poor stressball, started hesitating. I kept running. I've yet to find anything to ease Kona's nerves when we approach streets, so I figured we might as well make it to the safety of the car sooner than later. As soon as I opened the car door, Kona made a flying leap into her crate. Safe!

So the beginning and end of our peak adventure weren't great but there was good stuff smooshed in the middle.

Seven Things Kona

2010-10-22T17:55:00.000-07:00

I've been way too slow to post about our first blog award, presented to us by our new blogging friend, Oscar. Kona is quite excited about Oscar because he's a Maltese and she's never met a Maltese before. Even more, Kona likes Oscar because Kona likes chicken. Not too long ago, Oscar and his human rescued some chicken. Kona thinks that no chicken should run away (from her), so she's grateful for Oscar's efforts.

To claim our award, we present you with seven tidbits about Kona:

1) Kona was nameless for quite some time while I tried on different names. The runners up?
*Manzanita (My favorite plant, Kona's color and waaay too many syllables for a dog's name). *Boundy (She didn't run as a puppy, she bounded. Fitting, but not the right ring).

2) Kona has a thing for socks and Bounce sheets. In other words, she likes helping with laundry.

3) She doesn't do nights. At all. Kona sacks out between 5 and 7PM (depending on the season) and does not want to be messed with. She's so pooped that she can't hold her ears up straight, thus her nickname, "Yoda."

4) Kona can't "head shake." (You know, the kill the prey move). She'll try with a stuffie, but her attempts are painfully pitiful.

5) Kona's sensitive to some odd things. If she's around another dog that starts gagging, she flattens her ears and slinks out of the room.

6) Kona never had that awkward puppy look. She was subsequently mistaken as a dachshund many times when she was young. (Still can't figure that one out, but it happened often. "Oh, look at the wiener dog!" Poor girl).

7) Kona loves waking up in the morning. She's so happy to be awake that she doesn't just prance down the hallway, she throws her head back and swings it from side to side.

And that's Kona Dog!
Have a good weekend everyone!

Weather and Kona Changes

2010-10-20T15:23:00.001-07:00

Soon after my 20 miler, our weather morphed back into Fall. We've had rain the past few days, with showers and fog greeting me and Kona during our outings.
We don't normally get rain this time of year, so it's been strange to watch the hillsides turn to their winter green. You can see Kona standing on a bed of new wild grass. If these sprouts continue to grow, they'll choke out the dry foxtails, making exploring safe for Kona again. Unfortunately, they'll ultimately dry out to become stickers themselves.
Kona and I hiked the last two mornings. I'm slow to get my wet-weather legs moving. Kona has enjoyed the slower pace, taking more time to sniff and look over the trails.
I've noticed changes in Kona during our trail time over the past couple months. Kona use to have one speed--Kona speed. This meant if we ran, she pulled. If we hiked, she really pulled. Lately, Kona changes her pace to follow mine. It seems so basic, but the basics with Kona are huge. I wonder if she's gained confidence or maturity.

We've had a lot of fun together on our last two hikes. Kona has taken the initiative to play eye contact games. She became so insistant yesterday that I had to send her away in order to save treats! It was only a year ago that Kona was first willing to eat a treat while on trail. Lately, she's exploring, checking in with me, exploring more.

Look at that Kona tail!
Of course, all this togetherness flies out the window at the first sign of a small animal, but that enthusiasm only adds zest. I keep hoping that the changes aren't a fluke. Feeling connected to my dog on our morning trails is truly a treasure.

When it Hurts

2010-10-12T17:07:00.001-07:00

On Sunday I set out to tackle my one 20 miler before race day in November. At the end of last week, training got disheveled after Kona had to make (another) trip to the vet. After a Summer of vigilance on the trails, Kona picked up two grass seeds in her ear from a plant in our yard. I felt terrible. Thankfully, removing foreign bodies from the ear is easier than from the snout.

After a couple days of short workouts while Kona got the vet nerves out, we started our long run early Sunday morning. The forecast called for temperatures in the upper 80's. Not ideal running weather, but the training clock ticks on.
For six miles, I ran with Kona on our ridge. My legs protested the hills, so I took it easy. I wanted to run ten miles at race space, letting myself relax for the other ten. There was no way I could run at street race speed on our trails, so I listened to my protesting body and slowed down.

After last week's eight ridge miles, six went by quickly. Kona had energy to spare and I felt badly as I loaded her back in the car, knowing I'd have to leave her at home to finish my run. Back at home, I quickly inhaled half an energy bar and gulped a bottle of Gatorade. Almost immediately, my body revolted against the onslot of processed carbs. Before tightening my hydration waist-belt, I ripped open a pack of Pepto-Bismol.

Back at it, I was surprised how fresh my legs felt on my first hill. Last week, the same hill left me shuffling. This time, I had a spring in my step. This was good. I reminded myself of my goal to keep my pace up for the next ten miles. My stride felt strong and relaxed.
My route took me over 3.5 miles of rolling hills, followed by 7 miles of flat trail. The hills passed quickly and I was glad to reach dirt again, pulling away from the hustle of Sunday morning travelers. The trail followed an arroyo, where water crawled in the heat of the sun.

Though it had been awhile since I had run there, I knew the trail well and check the landmarks off my mental list as I ran, keeping track of my progress. The smell of horse and hay came and went as I passed the stable, followed my the ammonia stench as I ran under the bridge where two men huddled in sleeping bags. A pick-up soccer game was in full swing on the field. I said my prayers and picked up my pace through the golf course, keenly aware that neither fence nor net separated my trail from the greens.

I reached my turn around point. A few yards down the trail I nearly jumped out of my skin when something strange walked into my peripheral vision. A chicken! Just as I started to warn the approaching walker and lab, the man beat me to it. "Is that the chicken?" We chatted for a minute and I got filled in on the chicken scoop.

Grateful for an excuse for a break, I felt fatigue set in as I continued. I wanted to keep my race pace. I spent much of Saturday watching the live feed of the Ironman World Championships in Kona. The physical and mental prioress of those athletes was inspirational. I kept the image of those triathletes in my mind as I focused on my stride. But, focus is hard when you're tired.
I finally made it off the trail, back to the streets on the last 3.5 miles. As I started up the first hill, a man in his 60's ran towards me. Dressed in tri shorts and a jersey, he was probably doing a brick workout--a bike ride, followed by a run. His legs showed the strength of a well-seasoned athlete. As he ran by, he hollered a quick, "good work!" my way. I'd never felt so grateful for the encouragement of a stranger. I collected my breath into a squeaky, "thank you."

The last 2.5 miles were hot. I cut through the park at my mile marker, bypassing the water fountain and ignoring my empty water bottle. I just wanted to get home. I remind myself of the Ironman commentators words as they reflected on the pain of running after 112 miles on the bike.

You've got to keep turning it over.

They meant one foot in front of the other. You just have to keep moving.

I kept moving, but as nausea set in, I wanted to stop. I knew I was over heating. I tried to pull the words of another friend to get me home. He wished me luck with my training, hoping that as my legs felt heavy that my heart would feel light, knowing that each step was to help strengthen and empower someone on a much harder journey.

I did my best to find my homestretch inspiration. All that drummed in my head was, "but is hurts, and I'm tired."

I finally made it home. After Kona kisses, a cold shower and more Gatorade, I started feeling better. After dinner in the evening and in an endorphins hangover, I thought back on how badly I felt at the end of my run. I had tried to muster strength and inspiration but I really didn't care. I thought of the cancer patients that this LIVESTRONG venture is about and suddenly found new inspiration. These are the folks who find strength to get back to work, get out of bed, smile for their children

even when it hurts
even when they're tired
and they don't get to stop in a mile.

I'll keep training. I'll keep running. And thank the sunshine for letting me stand tall today.

Return to the Forest

2010-10-06T19:13:00.001-07:00

For the first time since late Spring, Kona and I headed to the forest. I picked a route that kept us on a fireroad and away from the pesky foxtails that chased us from these trails in the first place.

Winter's water disappeared from the creek.
We zigged up the trail, avoiding the narrows of the canyon.
We snaked up the hillside, keeping views of the morning sky.
Kona, who often is told she looks like a coyote (if not outright mistaken for one), showed off her wild animal pose.
A doe crashed down the near vertical slope above us, showing how gravity strips the grace from even the most sure-footed. Kona wanted to follow. I wondered why the doe ran so quickly.
The sun made a cameo through the clouds but was outshone on what turned into a day of rain.
Near the top, Kona caught the irresistible whiff of an animal and took the direct route to get a closer sniff.
She eventually gave up.

At our destination, we took in the view of the city to the South
and the forest ahead of us.
On our way down, Kona skirted around nervousness (Kona often gets nervous as we head towards our car) but managed to look my way when I called her, sun in her eyes and all.

Hell Week

2010-10-03T17:26:00.000-07:00

The New York Marathon is November 7th, giving me a measly month to finish training. I can no longer put off those long runs. Thus enters Hell Week.

All the high school athletes in the house remember those days, right at the end of pre-season training, when your coach put you through the grinder. For me, it was swim team. Hell Week conjures up memories of my coach, an ex-female body builder, screaming profanities as we sprinted laps up the steepest hill in the neighborhood. Never mind we weren't runners.

These next two weeks, I'll be kicking it into high gear, wearing ice packs and drinking lots of chocolate milk. In other words, no more pink clouds and puppy dogs.
I made one last day of procrastination yesterday, but for good reason. On Friday, I was walking home when the sky opened. Lighting was far enough away that I wasn't in danger, but close enough that I could feel the thunder. About ten minutes from home, the downpour began. It was the kind of rain where you could bring out your shampoo. I was soaked to the bone.

So when I saw the sky morph during the beginning of yesterday's run, I decided to procrastinate just one more day before Hell Week. I really didn't want to be stuck on a high ridge with thunder and a scared Kona.
Today's sky was much more benign. No more excuses! I wanted to run at least 16 miles. Kona would help me through the first half and I would take to the streets to finish on my own. For the first time is many days, the air felt cool. We were off.
The first few steps scared me. My legs felt like bricks. We had a lazy week with our high temperatures and I was feeling it. Luckily, the initial burn faded quickly. Kona helped me up our early hills with several rabbit sightings.

I was surprised to feel my body relax. Before I knew it, the sun was up and we were nearing our last lap.
As we finished our 8th mile, I felt (relatively) strong, but tried not to think about the fact that I was only halfway through my run.

I dropped Kona off at home, drank some water and scarfed half an energy bar before heading out the door. I'm not use to running on streets, but figure it's probably a good idea to let my body adjust to the different impact before I take on 26 miles in November.

I ran through my neighborhood, pass a busy freeway on ramp, and over rolling hills to a nearby running and cycling mecca. While I seek out solitude on trails, the hub-bub of this 5k loop provided great distraction as my knees and hips started talking to me.

People of every shape, size and age were out for a Sunday workout. A woman with a triathlete's physique sported an Ironman cap. Her gait was relaxed and strong. I tried to match it.

Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

Well, I tried.

A boy hollered from his stroller, "Bang, bang, bang," and shot me as I ran by.

Cyclists in fancy matching kits road by in a peloton. An 8 year old got reprimanded by his dad as he zoomed close by me on his 16" bike.

As twinges in my knees and hips came and went, I was glad the people watching gave me something else to focus on. I finally finished the 5k loop and headed back up for the last 2.5 miles toward home.

It was in these last miles that I realized that distance running has little to do with cardiovascular fitness and everything to do with joint resiliency. My hips ached. It's a familiar feeling but not a comfortable one. While I was breathing like I would if out on a stroll, my legs took a beating.

With many more shuffles, I made it home. I hadn't been beat to a pulp, but I felt nervous. Could I handle 10 more miles? What was I in for? Then, I opened the door and Kona clobbered me, licking all the salt off my face. It was a victory celebration at the finish line!

Not a bad start to Hell Week.

LIVESTRONG Day!

2010-10-02T14:43:00.000-07:00

If you've stopped by other blogging friends' posts, you probably already know that today is LIVESTRONG Day. Today is the day to rally behind the cancer fighting community. It's about celebrating the survivors, honoring those we've lost and taking a stand against the disease that interrupts too many lives.

Earlier in the Summer, I got an entry to run the New York Marathon to raise money for LIVESTRONG. If you missed it, you can read my original post here. I'll have a full update on my marathon training tomorrow. For today, I want to say thank you to all the generosity and support you have all sent my way. Together, we've raised over $2000. Wow!

I still need to raise nearly $1500 to meet my pledge to LIVESTRONG. If you've thought about making a donation but haven't gotten around to it, now's your chance! You can find my fundraising page and make a donation here.

What does LIVESTRONG do?
Curious what your money supports? Yeah, I was too. LIVESTRONG supports cancer patients, survivors and anyone else (family members/caretakers) affected by cancer through a number of programs and partnerships. They are also involved with campaigns to end cancer stigma in other countries through education.

LIVESTRONG's SurvivorCare program offers free counseling that helps those afflicted with cancer navigate the treatment process. You can image (and perhaps have experienced) the millions of questions that go through your head after a cancer diagnosis. What are my treatment options? How will I pay? How can I keep my job? SurvivorCare helps patients navigate these questions, pointing them to resources, decoding medical jargon, providing therapy services when the journey is too hard. All of this is free. Your money helps make it happen.

Donate here to support LIVESTRONG's programs and help me run the New York Marathon!

I love the banner at the top of this post. It represents the spirit of LIVESTRONG Day and of LIVESTRONG. Even more, the themes of hope, defiance, focus and courage can inspire all our lives, whether or not cancer is our battle. Your stories, my blogging friends, so often resonate these themes, inspiring and encouraging me.

So thank you and Live Strong.

Sunrise in Pictures

2010-09-30T17:14:00.000-07:00

Fall didn't linger long. The past week has been miserably hot. We set a new record on Monday for the hottest temperature ever recorded downtown. Ever recorded, not just the record high for that day. I had candles outside that have melted.

While training has slowed down, Kona and I have still gotten out for some pre-dawn hikes. Some funky movement in the atmosphere has brought us rare poofy clouds, lighting and beautiful sunrises. I'll leave you with the sky show we watched the last two mornings.

Yesterday:

Today:

Welcoming Fall

2010-09-22T18:12:00.000-07:00

Our Fall season is typically hot and dry. Temperatures remain in the 80s and scorched hillsides have to wait weeks and weeks before rain brings relief.

To my delight, Autumn swooshed in with mist and fog.

The low clouds danced around us. I breathed in the moist air. Kona took in the fresh scents.
Moisture seems to lift Kona's spirits, I suspect because the water brings out different smells. She held her tail up, moving confidently down the trail.
I told her I had to get a non-blurry picture so everyone could see how happy she was. She obliged, unhappily.
I often wish we had a more pronounced change in seasons, both for quicker relief from summer's heat and to be able to enjoy Autumn's changing colors. As I rounded a bend on the trail, a wall of season change greeted me, boasting our region's most brilliant Fall color. I enjoyed from a distance.
As we neared the end of our run, the fog held strong, muting daylight. I soaked in the refreshing scene. Kona stood in stoic meditation.
Happy Fall my friends.

My Kind of Day

2010-09-19T12:33:00.000-07:00

It started early. So early, I strapped on my headlamp as Kona and I headed to the ridge.
I didn't have time to wait for dawn but the fresh morning air didn't need light.

After dropping Kona off at home, I made the hour and a half drive North to Santa Barbara. Fog drifted on and off shore, flirting with hillsides before running away.

I'd rather not sit in a car but ocean and mountain views somehow drown out the traffic hum.
I was on my way to visit friends. One of my friends just bought a road bike and we were on a mission to break it in.

Three of the group were off for wine tasting in the nearby valley and I seized the chance to "plan" a ride through the vineyards with my cycling friend and her new bike. The area boasts not only acres of grapes but miles of rolling hills, little traffic and no traffic signals. It's a cyclist's dream and the reason why professional teams frequent the area for training.

We were off, surrounded by a crisp, summer landscape.
Rows and rows of grapes cheered us on.
Our bikes rested as we explored.
We flew down a road with a genlte downgrade, stopping when a field caught our eyes.

We continued on, cutting up a canyon that would lead us towards our starting point. The canyon climb was sustained and, more than two hours into our ride, became a grunt-fest.

While I'd ridden in the area before, I only had a vague idea of how long our route would be, or what would be the conditions of the backroads I chose.

After some gravel stretches, more climbs, a "two mile" section of freeway that turned into eight, and four and a half hours later, we made it back to our car.

I gave my friend a high five, trying to read her face. This was her third bike ride. Ever. I worried that she might not only hate me but never want to get on a bike again. I breathed again when I saw her smile ear to ear.

I felt the same way.

We joined the wine tasting crew for dinner in town. We ate at a restaurant with Old West decor. My stew was served out of a cast-iron pot. The dim light and a roaring fire made me feel like I was sitting around camp after a day working in the woods. It was like a step back in time. Of course, being bone tired, sun crisped and salty from the day's ride only added to the spirit.

It was the perfect way to end the day.

City Solitude

2010-09-17T19:21:00.000-07:00

Happy weekend everyone.

Traffic, Snakes and Training

2010-09-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

I found myself wishing for a house in the middle of nowhere this morning. The freeway above our neighborhood was closed, diverting traffic through residential streets. (Why on earth CalTrans closes part of the freeway during rush hour is beyond me). This of course happened the morning I tried to walk Kona through the neighborhood. A stream of cars shot her stress through the roof.

We hurried home and set out for the ridge. Unfortunately, we got stuck in the detoured traffic. It took us nearly 20 minutes to drive four blocks. Once on the ridge, the air traffic, there to take footage of the freeway closure, buzzed my nerves to the edge. Please. Turn. Off. The. Noise.

I know things will quiet down. We had a peaceful run yesterday and I'll try to focus on that.

We were out early again yesterday. The sunrise painted the eastern mountains orange.
Kona seemed to watch the sky with me.

At the bottom of our long downhill, Kona and I stopped to investigate some interesting scat. I almost think it was an owl pellet as I've never seen bones like that in coyote scat. Any ideas?
Before turning around to climb back uphill, something caught Kona's attention. The seeds on the plants behind her are turning from cotton white to red. I suppose we get some fall color around here.
We climbed the steepest section of trail, catching the sun before it touched down into the canyons.
Before we reached our vista, we stumbled across a snake track.
Towards the end of our run, we ran into a second track. It seems like the snakes are more active this time of year.

Some of you asked if I've ever run into a rattlesnake. I have seen only two rattlesnakes in all my time running and hiking in their habitat. Both of those encounters happened in the last three years. One was on this trail. While considered an aggressive snake, rattlers earn this title only because they don't back down from a confrontation, not because they chase or wait in hiding to bite. All the same, I've kept a keen eye on the trail recently.
Back on a snake-free vista, I practice some obedience with Kona. These mini-sessions often perk Kona up. Her body relaxed and she held her tail up.
Before heading back to the car, we practiced one off leash recall. Kona stayed put as I ran away, then ran with gusto when I called her to me.
Instead of putting her back on leash, I kept her loose while I walked back to the green bench to pick up my treat bag and camera case. Kona was obviously feeling spunky to be off lead. When she started trotting away with too much spunk, I called her name. She spun her head around to look at me! She didn't come back in my direction (which was fine. I didn't recalled her.) but met me over at the bench, where I gave her a huge handful of treats.

That's my Kona Girl!

Special Guests

2010-09-11T18:24:00.000-07:00

My niece and nephew came for an overnight visit yesterday. I worried about how Kona would handle our visitors and how I should handle Kona. Luckily, yesterday evening was filled with activities outside the house, so Kona's routine went undisturbed.

This morning, we got out for a run before joining the morning festivities with the kids. We headed to the ridge with the goal of putting in some extra time. I need to step up my marathon training and I hoped to get Kona's energy under control to make things at the house easier.

We found our rhythm and before I knew it, the sun crested the mountains. Kona did some extra exploring, her nose always at work. At one point she froze, sniffing the air.
Can you see what she smelled?
Our run ended too quickly. The day was beautiful and I didn't want to take Kona home where she would be stressed. We were homeward bound nonetheless.
Back at home, things went well. Like many fearful dogs, Kona has a hard time with kids. She's fine with the spastic noises, but not with the spastic movement. Luckily, she didn't feel threatened by my niece and nephew. I knew this because (besides her welcome growl when they arrived) she didn't bark or growl at anyone.

I kept her in the living room with a baby gate when anyone was up and moving. While obviously a bit anxious, she had no trouble eating breakfast and working on a stuffed kong. She also laid down in her bed. When the kids were busy with a stationary activity, I let Kona out. She had no problems approaching the kids for sniffs (though sometimes with giraffe neck) but did several Scooby-Doo runs whenever someone moved unexpectedly.

The best thing for me to see was how quickly Kona bounced back from the scarier moments. Also, now that the house is ours again, she's relaxing as though it's the end of any other day. She's not extra jumpy, sensitive or showing other signs of lingering stress hormones. That seems to say that although Kona wasn't comfortable, her stress never reached a point of no return. I'll take that as a good day.

Cool Morning and Dog Pack

2010-09-09T09:04:00.000-07:00

The promised cool down arrived with low clouds and mist. After days of heat and low humidity, I was giddy in our new surroundings.
I slowed our pace, not wanting to miss any of the rare summer scene. Kona was busy following all sorts of smells. I feel like moisture brings out more scents, as Kona's noses is always more active in misty weather.

With tracks to follow, Kona wasn't thrilled about stopping to take pictures, but I managed to get one.
As the trail winded eastward, we got a view of the cloud-cloaked foothills.
We started our run later than usual, so we ran into more people on the trail. While not overwhelmed, Kona was visibly more nervous. I tried to interrupt her hypervigilance by encouraging her to explore up a foxtail-free slope. She hopped up the hill with enthusiasm, but by the looks of this picture, I'm not sure if she was any less worried.
Our run continued on a similar theme. I took pictures and Kona shifted from looking nervous to following animal tracks with gusto.

We ran into a small dog pack that I try hard to avoid. While the dogs aren't aggressive, their greeting skills don't go off well with Kona. One of the dogs immediately puts his head over Kona's shoulders and the other will run at us barking. The third approaches Koan with her head low, glaring straight at Kona. While Kona has decent dog skills, she does not try to diffuse tense situations and stands her ground when challenged. You could imagine how Kona's personality would not match well with this nervous, status seeking pack. Kona rarely gets snarky with other dogs, but she will with these three (and rightfully so, I believe).

I was gratefully that I was able to navigate around the pack without any of the dogs approaching. While we made it through the situation fine, I felt tense as we continued up the hill. Kona on the other hand was immediately over the encounter. She shakes off tense dog situations immediately. I tried to take her cue to chill.

I love it when Kona Dog reminds *me* to relax. Besides, the morning was too welcoming to hold extra worry.

Before the Weather Break

2010-09-06T20:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the promised end to another week of hot weather. The air felt think--a strange sensation against the dark sky. As we crested our first hill, the sunrise seemed to radiate heat.
The topography of our trail climbs, drops, twists and turns to create pockets that hide both warm and cold air. As Kona and I dropped to the bottom of the next hill we were greeted by a blast of cold air. I welcomed the goosebumps.

I let Kona run on the side of the trail. She prefers running on ledges, fallen trees and other precarious paths to the wide fireroad. I enjoyed watching her perk up as she balanced along the raised sand ledge. I kept a close eye on Kona, making sure she didn't contemplate a pounce.
By the time we reached the base of our longest descent, ridges and valleys emerged from the shadows of the mountains. Our forest is still a giant sand dune from the fire that burned a year ago. It's a sight I haven't gotten use to.
We met more hikers than the last time we were here. Kona took it in stride until three mountain bikers inched their way in our direction, up a steep hill. I've always been amazed at how unfazed Kona is around cyclists but the zig-zagging (slow) pace of this trio proved to be too much.

We finished our last hill in solitude. I tried to ignore the bottles and cigarette butts that littered our lookout point. The accessibility of this trail makes it a hangout spot for local kids. I was suddenly grateful that all local schools would be back in session soon.

Kona sat perched on the green bench--our favorite picture spot during our winter runs. She sat relaxed, ate treats and seemed to soak up the morning. I followed suit.

The Mischief Nose

2010-09-04T14:35:00.000-07:00

Always into something.

Back to Kona's Favorite Trail

2010-08-31T09:28:00.000-07:00

We had a miserably hot streak last week. Kona and I still got out for our morning runs but I had little energy to do much more than make it through the day. Then this weekend, temperatures dropped 30 degrees but Kona was sick with disturbing stinky bum. Finally, bodies are healthy and the weather is tolerable.

For the first time in over three months, we returned to Kona's favorite trail (the scene of her foxtail inhalation). We arrived just as night faded. I was exited to be on a different trail. Kona seemed to share my enthusiasm. It took us nearly five minutes to move no more than 100 meters as Kona sniffed away. She found coyote scat and immediately squatted to pee. "Kona's back."
I forgot how much I enjoyed our neighborhood trail. Unlike our ridge, the climbs on this trail are steady and long. No tippy-toeing required to make it to the top. At the crest of our second hill, I stopped to admire the mountains. During the winter, the forest peaks can be covered in snow and the power lines that criss-coss the trail buzz from the moisture in the air. Today, as we enter the driest months of the year, the forests no doubly laid crisp brown under the morning light and the tower stood in silence. This is the time of year we hold our breath to not ignite a brush fire.

To help reduce the risk of fire, crews come in to remove brush. While I can't help but think the efforts would be in vain in face of fierce heat and winds, Kona gets to enjoy the results of the work. She sniffed away in a foxtail-free zone.

Despite being sick for a couple days, Kona exploded with energy. She zoomed around, becoming a difficult photo subject.
Once she caught the trail of a mule deer, she fell into her tracking zone, zipping around only to stop suddenly to survey the scene.
The deer hunt proved to be a lost cause but Kona found other things to explore. I had to make a desperate yank to keep her from pouncing something on the side of the trail. I recently read an article about an increase in the number of snake bite victims in the area showing the effects of neurotoxic venom. This is a bit alarming as usually only the Mojave Green rattler (which isn't in our area) is feared for its neurotoxic bite.

As I thought about rattlesnakes, I rounded the corner to find this:
The snake that left this trail was a big boy; most likely a western diamondback. With Kona nearby for perspective, you can see just how thick the snake's body was. Seeing that the track was nearly untouched on a popular trail, I figured the snake slithered through just hours, if not minutes, earlier.

With the snake behind us, we headed up our last climb. The trail was nearly empty. So much so that I thought I had missed the memo. Certainly everyone was home for a reason? Whatever the case, I enjoyed the quiet. Just as we reached our turn around, the sun erupted behind the mountains.
It may be weeks yet before I feel comfortable returning to the singletrack trails in our forest. I'm learning that foxtails stick around throughout the dry season, which could be (ahem) until January. Thankfully, the barbed seeds are beginning to lose their umph, making it safer to return to some of our favorite trails.

Sending Strength

2010-08-23T12:51:00.000-07:00

To all my blogging friends (two and four-legged) who've been handed too much recently,

I wish you strength

and hope you find peace in a new day,

possibilities in the open sky,

a renewed spirit and curiosity,

with safety as you find your way.

I hope you can pause in sunshine

and laugh, chasing goblin shadows.

Because,
in spite of it all,
goodness abounds.

Dawn Patrol

2010-08-21T09:56:00.000-07:00

Summer sprung on us this year. We went from temperatures in the upper 70s to near triple digits this week. My perfect running weather is mid 40s and sunshine, so this Summer business has not been my favorite. Solution? Beat the sun.

Dawn patrol it was. I stopped to say hello to sleepy Downtown.
I would not run alone in our forests before sunrise. That just wouldn't be wise being that we share our trails with other predators that are active in the pre-dawn hours. I feel safe on our ridge. It offers me and Kona a place to get away from the city rush, but a big cat would have to be terribly lost to find its way onto our trail.

Just as I reassured myself that we wouldn't be ambushed in the dark, I ran into a spider web. Thankfully, I only hit the edge of the sticky food trap. I turned around to see the silhouette of the big spider as it scurried to safety. It's shaped was unmistakable--a brown widow.

I shook off the thought of face planting into one of the most venomous spiders in town. Brown widows are new to our area. They have a similar shape to the black widow, with the same hourglass tummy. Unlike the black widow, they aren't nearly as shy. They spin webs in full view, not hiding in dark corners like their cousins.

Spider averted, we kept running. The sky lightened as we started the steep portion of our run. I stopped to watch the sun awaken our forest to the north. Many of the mountain trails are still closed due to unstable trail conditions after last year's fire.
This Summer, Kona has gotten better at waiting while I stop on the trail. She use to immediately whine whenever I paused. As I watched the sun rise over the mountains this morning, she stood quietly. She still wasn't completely relaxed as she shook off her nerves before we started running again.
As we started back towards the car, something caught Kona's attention. She sniffed the air and looked down the hillside. I wondered what she smelled that I couldn't see.
The sun reflected off the downtown skyline, promising another warm day.
Lucky for us, we returned to the trailhead just as the sun peaked over our eastern mountains. We stealthy runners slipped into the car before the sun could catch us.

Melting!

2010-08-17T14:33:00.001-07:00

Alright, so really our weather has just squeaked up to normal August temperatures, but I forgot what Summer feels like. I knew it would be a warm morning, so we raced out the door to try and beat the sun.
The air felt thick. Without a breeze and with the top of the ridge holding tight to warm air, I couldn't believe it was just past 6:00. Kona looked how I felt. She seemed to half slink, half walk. We trudged onward.

I worried that Kona was having a horrible time, but bunnies came to the rescue, providing a new surge of enthusiasm. (If I could only borrow a rabbit, maybe my counter conditioning attempts would be more successful.)
With spirits higher, we continued to the second half of our trail. I had first planned to fun our ridge twice, but as Kona panted with the sun still hiding, I decided one lap would do.
In the spirit of our recall month, we put in some practice before we headed home. It's interesting with Kona that she has a really hard time looking at me while we're on trails because her senses are on alert (that's my guess), but she's still able to respond to commands like sit, wait and come.
Yah Kona!

I've been wanting to get into our high forests, but need to wait until it cools off. Hopefully we'll have another mountain adventure at the end of the week.

100 Days of L-Theanine

2010-08-16T13:16:00.000-07:00

Kona recently finished her second 50-capsule bottle of L-Theanine, so I decided it was time for a report.

. . .Oneday, Kona's worry face won't be quite so impressive. . .

About three months ago, I had one of those living-with-a-fearful-dog low days. I decided it was time to try something new and pledged 60 days of Relaxation Protocol work and 100mg of daily L-Theanine for Kona. Our RP work wasn't too successful. I was consistent for about 20 straight days and continued for about three sessions a week after that. I suppose we did put in some work, but I'm not sold that RP is what we need, so it has fizzled out of our work. We have stuck with the daily L-Theanine.

Some L-Theanine background: L-Theanine is an amino acid found in green tea. It promotes Alpha brain waves, which are associated with an alert, relaxed brain state. Basically, your brain emits four different electrical pulses, or waves, that reflect your level of consciousness and arousal. Alpha waves are your relaxed, awake brain pulse.

The folks in supplement land packaged L-Theanine into capsule form. It's on the market for both humans and pets. I buy the human version for Kona because it is significantly less expensive than the canine variety.

I've seen improvements over the last three months, mostly in a decrease in Kona's fearful reaction to noises while she's outside. Kona's sensitive to people noises, especially loud voices that come from a distance. Unfortunately, the topography in our neighborhood makes voices from blocks away bounce around, echoing into our yard. Kona has become spooked enough to want to retreat inside.

Since she started the L-Theanine routine, it's become more and more rare for "voices in the yard" to scare her. On a number of occasions I've cringed at a loud shout, waiting to see Kona slink for the gate, but she'll stay lounging under the tree. It's come to a point where it takes a lot (say, a loud party at a neighbor's house who usually doesn't have company) to push Kona over threshold.

Beyond the outside voices, I can't pinpoint obvious improvement. To me, this doesn't mean that the L-Theanine hasn't worked well. Subtle improvements are huge in my book and they build up over time.

It's impossible for me to know if L-Theanine caused the decreased voice reaction. Kona could have had just an overall increase in confidence with her Nose Work classes, RP work, trail runs, etc. But, I have noticed an improvement, which is enough for me to keep Kona on L-Theanine until the brave fairies work their magic.

I think we're reaching another behavioral plateau. While the L-Theanine continues, I need to find another behavior modification plan. Meds should work in conjunction with behavior modification. I'm doing more research and moving intrepidly as I look for a program that suits Kona. I've finally had to admit that counter conditioning and desensitization (the staple techniques behind fearful dog rehabilitation) do not work for Kona. (That topic may become another blog post). Unfortunately, it's hard to find BM programs that do not use CC&D as a foundation.

It often feels easier to not worry about working with Kona's fears. Kona has many avenues of fun and I'm better at management and avoiding triggers. But even with daily runs and romps with her best canine friend, Kona's undeniably more easily scared than the average dog. There are also days when I wish I could walk Kona around the neighborhood. Both of these are reason enough to keep working.

Spoiled for Too Long

2010-08-11T09:17:00.000-07:00

Our summer has been unbelievably mild, so I guess I shouldn't complain that temperatures should rise back to normal highs this weekend. Of course, we'll take these last few days of cool weather.

When we hit the trail this morning, fog wisped around the hillsides, keeping visibility low.
We were out for another workout of laps. The last time we were on this trail for a long run, Kona nearly melted. As we finished our fist lap, the sun snuck behind the layer of mist, reflecting brightly off the moisture. I crossed my fingers that the low clouds would linger for awhile longer.
I quickly became wet from all the moisture in the air, but was glad the sun stayed at bay. The cool temps kept Kona's enthusiasm high. She was persistent about sniffing. We finally stopped at a needle-covered coyote bed to let Kona do her thing. The needles snuffed out the foxtails on this bed, making it safe to explore.
Just as we started the final leg to the car, the sun peaked over the fog, layering blue sky over clouds. Lucky for us, we would finish our run in the middle of the mist cloud. Oh what will we do when summer arrives?
On The Training Front
I've declare August as Recall Month for me and Kona. Since the stickers came out and Kona can't run on her long line, we've been slacking with recall training. Kona's much more relaxed when she romps on her long leash, so it was easier for her to respond to my recalls during the winter when she hikes on her long line. I want Kona to be able to respond well to me on trails to keep her safe, and continue to make our outings together easier.

So far this month, I've tried to add one off leash recall during our runs, as long as no one else is around. She's done great in these low distraction scenarios. We're also playing a lot of "disappearing human" games in the yard. I hop behind a bush while she's distracted, in hopes she eventually notices I'm gone and will come looking for me. If Kona spots me putting treats in my pocket before we go outside, she seems to know the game is coming and keeps a close eye on me. Other times, she's so enthralled with something that she doesn't realize I'm missing! I'll then call her name and she'll come search for me.

I hope to get back into the swing of practicing recall and "find me" games so that Recall Month continues throughout the year. Does anyone have other recall games they play?

A Run of Firsts

2010-08-06T14:37:00.000-07:00

I decided to push further this morning, running up one of the peaks off our saddle we ran to last week. It would be the first time Kona and I would run that distance together. I knew we would be out for awhile, and was thankful for the shade in the canyon.
We have had the most mild summer that I can remember. The below-average temperatures seem to keep the water level high.
After running out of the shadows of the canyon, we were blinded by the sun-drenched ridge.
We met another hiker on the saddle. Kona didn't seem too bothered by him. She's often more nervous around people who are standing still, as he was. He also had his pack on the ground--another potentially scary thing. Despite the company, Kona took a handful of treats before we headed into new territory.

A few yards from the saddle, the view to the east opened.
We ran with no relief from the sun. Even when the air temperature stays cool, Kona can overheat quickly without shade. I kept an eye on her, watching for sighs of heat exhaustion. Of course, I only found a lizard huntress.
The last stretch of trail to the peak hurt. My calves felt like rocks. During the final half mile, I started to trip over my own feet. I was moving very slowly, but was also able to look around more. I noticed pine cones dangling from most of the trees. Sap oozed from the pine cones like icicles. They reminded me of Christmas ornaments.
I finally shuffled to the peak. Kona lead the way to check out the view.

I sat on a charred log to rest. Kona came over and nearly stuffed her face down my water bottle in an attempted to quench her thirst. She sat for awhile and ate treats, seeming more relaxed than usual. That is until she spotted a lizard.
I finally mustered the enthusiasm to get up and start our descent. Terrain that steep can make for a dicey downhill run. I forced myself to focus, despite my fatigue. A sprained ankle that far out would make for a long afternoon.

I payed attention to nothing but my feet until scree began to tumble off the hill above us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what I thought was a deer--but it wasn't.
It was a bighorn sheep! It was the first time I'd ever seen one and they were absolutely mythical. I almost expected to see fairies accompany them up the slope.

Kona was just as enthralled as I was. She had frozen, every muscle in her body tense, paw lifted. But, she just watched and made no move like she wanted to chase. I was glad, because the big boy of the herd kept an eye on us and I didn't want to upset him. As hard as it was to leave, watching those huge horns helped me move the two of us along.
Despite some achy joints, I found myself smiling during the rest of our descent. I was worried about the inevitable crowds on the trail as we approached the trailhead. Kona did amazing most of the time. The final stretch to the car undid her, but I couldn't let that get to me.

It was a beautiful morning. We ran a new distance. We explored a new peak. We saw new animals. I was feeling pretty lucky.

Laps

2010-08-02T13:09:00.001-07:00

The last few days brought overcast mornings, so I was excited to see blue sky and clouds to start the day. Kona stood silhouetted by the rising sun.
I wanted to add some distance to our run. Unfortunately, our ridge is relatively short, so to add miles I had to add laps. I'm not a fan of running laps, it can feel more like training than exploring. While I enjoy training as well, I like to package it in an adventure.

I soon realized that our blue sky also meant a warm sky. About halfway through our run, Kona looked back at me, perhaps asking for some shade.
When we crested one of our mini-hills, something reflected off the sun and caught my eye. A Mylar balloon floated, half suspended, over the trail. When Kona first spotted it, she slowed down and changed her course to arc around the strange object. I was happy to see her decide the balloon was safe. She didn't flee as it floated around. She even stood on her hind legs to try to get a sniff as it took off.
We rounded the trail fork to finish our final lap. I wondered why I had planned our run to finish on the hilliest trail with little shade. Kona was slowing down. I've figured out that it's hard to tire Kona with added distance, but the heat gets to her quickly.

I decided to stop in one of the only plots of shade. We were close to finishing, but Kona was panting hard. She decided to lie down, but only for a few seconds. She happily gulped water, ate some treats and just hung out in the shade. (Alright, Kona looks tortured in this picture, but I promise she wasn't!)
We slowed down to cool off a bit before getting in the car. As much as I don't care for running laps, I do love a summer morning on the trails with Kona.

Mountain Legs

2010-07-27T16:00:00.000-07:00

Today was our first mountain run. Sure, we've run our local peaks and steep neighborhood trails, but we've never run at high elevation. I stepped out of the car, breathing in the fresh air. I knew it would warm up soon, so reveled in the dim morning light.
I followed the creek's rhythm to relax into an even stride.
My lungs relaxed, but my legs struggled on the scree trails. Kona kept me moving as she tugged on my line. I let her hunt chipmunks to her heart's desire. The stalking breaks gave me time to rest.
As we ran higher, the sun dipped into the canyon.
Just as I began to curse my malfunctioning legs, the trail became steeper and my stride became stronger. I thought I had gained a second wind, but then noticed the trail. The loose scree and rocks turned to hardpack. What a difference the trail made!
While nothing slows Kona down, she was willing to stop at our saddle. We had reached our destination! Kona looked down the canyon and I smiled in satisfaction.
The sun was bright, but the saddle funneled wind between canyons. I put on my vest as I ate my Cliff Bar and handed Kona treats (in between her sight-seeing).
Kona did amazing during our break. She drank water, took treats and didn't whine. She deserved a reward. . .A game of Find the Lizard before we headed home.

Our descent started well, but as we got closer to the parking lot, the trail became busier. A stone's throw away from the trailhead, we ran into a trail crew (6 burly men, carrying shovels and pushing a wheelbarrow) and Kona gave me her first "Oh hell no!" reaction in a long time. Unfortunately, the sides of the trail were too steep for me to navigate and give Kona more space around the scary crew. She was finally able to balance her own way across the steep slope while I stayed on the trail.

I never like to finish a run on a stressful note, but I think we had enough good moments to make up for it. There's got to be some behavior modification rule that goes something like that. . .

What's Your Anchor?

2010-07-26T16:27:00.000-07:00

It's been one of those days. Three hours spent on the phone to fix the internet, only to find out there's a "power outage" with our server so I just have to wait. No internet means little work done. Painters are working on the outside of the house (for 9 hours), creating a seriously nervous Kona dog...

But the day started well!

It was another overcast morning, the marine layer so low that mist clouded the hills.
While I stopped to breathe in the fog, Kona practiced a sit. She broke it after a few seconds, but sat again when I asked her to and didn't whine.
I couldn't blame her for not wanting to stay still. There was a more important task at hand. Yes, it's wabbit hunting season. (If you enlarge the picture, you can just make out Kona's target in the distance).
I jogged at a steady pace, amazed that July has brought so many cool mornings. Kona moved at her own pace, running ahead, then freezing, then charging.
As we crossed the road that divides our trail, the sun seemed to rise out of the ground. I paused for awhile and took out my water bottle to offer Kona something to drink. To my shock and delight, she drank! Kona usually turns her head away from my water bottle, too hypervigilant to notice her thirst. I soaked up our victory moment.
As we climbed the steep section of trail, the sun barely seeped through the clouds. The sky looked surreal, like a movie backdrop.

I finished our run feeling refreshed. As the day unfolded in a series of inconveniences and frustrations, I became ever more grateful for my peaceful morning. I'm reminded how trail time with Kona helps me ride through the rest of the day, even the hair-pulling ones.

Help Me Run the NYC Marathon and Fight Cancer

2010-07-23T14:03:00.000-07:00

I have exciting news. I was able to snag an entry ticket for the New York City Marathon in November. What's even more exciting? I snagged a spot on Livestrong's Team Fatty to raise money to fight cancer while I train.

For those who don't know Fatty, he's a cycling blogger who lost his wife to breast cancer about a year ago. He's done some amazing work with the Livestrong Foundation to raise funds to help fight cancer.

So this is a big deal for a couple reasons. First, the New York Cit y Marathon is HUGE. Some forty thousand athletes attend and it's not easy to get a slot to race. I'm feeling really lucky to get to explore New York for the first time in the spirit of a giant athletic event.

Second, cancer hits close to home. I'm sure that's the same for many of you. So I will raise funds and run in memory of Grandma, Mrs. Bachand and Aunt Kathy, and will run in support of Aunt April, Angela and Dr. Leon.

Here's where I need help. I need to raise $3,500. I've promised Livestrong that I will raise that amount and they're holding my credit card hostage until I do. If you're able to, you can donate to my fundraising page here.

I did some really hard math and figured out that if everyone donates just $10, I'll only need 350 people to donate. Here's also where I could use your help. I'm a hermit and spend my spare time running with my dog in the mountains, so my social circle is about as impressive as my favorite wool running socks that I stitched back together after Kona had fun with them. If anyone's up for it, please link my fundraising page to your facebook page, twitter account, blog post etc. Spread the word because I think if we do, we'll be able to throw that fundraising number out of the ballpark, and that would be a big hit against cancer.

Even our girl Kona benefits. We'll be out for more long runs in the coming weeks. So Kona asks for your support too. Who could resist that face?

There's a roll call on the side of my fundraising page that names everyone this race is for. I'm not sure how it works, so if you can't add a name to that when you donate, please list your names in the comments here. Simply write: "In memory of" or "In support of." I will compile all these names on an article of clothing (not sure what just yet) and wear it during the marathon.

Thanks a ton for your support. I'll update on my progress and bring you more running with Kona stories as we train!

The Little Faker

2010-07-22T15:40:00.000-07:00

I put my shoes on this morning and Kona, who usually helps me put my socks on, curls up in her bed and turns her back to me. She only does this if she's not feeling well or is just too tired for a run. I figure she's had a busy and stressful week, so she might need to skip a trail workout.

I settle into work and a half hour later, Kona starts pawing my leg. I take her outside, throw her lizard, practice some obedience, come back inside.

Five minutes later, she's arfing at the cabinet where I stash her stuffies. I hand her her lion. I take her lion away after she rips the ear off and devours some stuffing. I ask her to lay down.

Ten minutes go by. I think she must have finally settled down, so I look up over my computer to check in. Here's what I find...

Tired, eh?

Coyote Mornings

2010-07-21T16:29:00.001-07:00

Yesterday the cloud cover kept up cool again. Kona and I headed to our usual trail for some exercise and exploring. The humidity was high, the extra moisture bringing out more smells for Kona. I kept a close eye on her snout, steering clear of stickers.

When we reached the top of our steepest descent, Kona stopped to wait for me. I'd like to think that she has been well trained to not pull me down these hills, but I think she's really worried about me slipping and scaring her. All the same, she even offered a sit when I didn't catch up fast enough. She looked up at me, looking pitifully nervous and painfully cute.
The first half of our hike was quiet. Without the sun casting a golden hue, the hills looked nothing but parched. The fire from last fall looked like it happened just overnight. (I realized that I have photographed this tree several times. I wonder what it is that catches my attention.)
The trail was so quiet that I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard footsteps approaching behind us. I whipped around quickly to see a coyote sprint up the trail away from us. He stopped several yards away to keep an eye on me and Kona. Kona stopped to keep an eye on him.

It took some convincing to pull her away from her coyote watch.
This morning, on the way out the door, another coyote ran across our driveway. It stopped to sniff the neighbor's cat who hid safely under a car. Kona took her position as coyote watchdog and made sure it scampered out of sight before jumping in the car for our morning adventure.

Visitors (of the human variety)
We had out of town visitors over yesterday who stayed the night and left late this morning. Kona had never met them before and I was bit worried about having three strangers as overnight guests.

I'm happy to report that Kona coped quiet well. Amazingly, she didn't let out a single bark or growl. (I think this was partly because she was so overwhelmed by the activity when they first arrived. She usually only barks at guests when they first come in, unless they are particularly scary). She even showed off her wiggle bum and snuck in a few kisses to our girl guest (boys are still too scary).

Whenever our guests were seated, she was able to hang out and even relax in the room with us. Movement makes her the most scared, so she became skittish if anyone got up to move around. I did what I could to try and direct her to a safe spot so she wouldn't get trapped anywhere while people moved.

It seems kind of lazy on my part, but Kona seems to do best with visitors when she's allowed to do her own thing. Treats seldom help her relax. She becomes more anxious if I put her away in another room. I just kept an eye out, kept instructing our guests to completely ignore her, and gave her breaks outside to help bring her anxiety down.

I tried not to beam too much when one guest commented that Kona, "Isn't nearly as bad," as I had described. =0)

Weather Break and V.E.T.

2010-07-19T18:31:00.001-07:00

When we got to our trailhead, the goosebumps on my arms announced the break in the heat wave. I've tried to get outside as early as possible lately to beat the rising temperatures. Today, a light marine layer shaded the sun and kept us cool.
As we reached our first goofy-steep hill, the sun brushed the trail ahead of us.
I stopped to take a picture of Kona, but she was distracted by a rustle in the bushes. . .

. . .that quickly became even more interesting.
I moved us along to avoid a pounce attack. We hiked an empty trail, not running into the other Monday morning "regulars". With her nose high in the air, Kona soon reminded me that we weren't the only ones on the ridge. I'm sure she picked up the scent of a doe. We seem to be running into them more often lately. Kona usually alerts me with her nose, and my (less impressive) eyes find the doe later.
Unfortunately for Kona, we had to head to the vet after our hike for her annual vaccinations. I wish there was something I could do to help Kona with vet trips. I gave her a calming aid before we left, but I have a feeling that she didn't get enough of it because it wasn't as effective as it was during her previous vaccination trip.

The staff at the office know Kona now and asked me if it was alright for the tech to give her the vaccines instead of the vet so we could get out of there quicker. I like our vet because of these small things. Our previous vet's office always took Kona into the back to have a tech vaccinate her. Our new vet does the vaccinations himself and is always in the room with us.

Kona's less comfortable with the tech, but I opted to get out of there as quickly as possible. The tech got down on the floor with me, gave Kona two pokes on the rear and we were out of there 60 seconds later. Yah! Now fingers crossed that Kona's not afraid of me in the morning.

A Dusty Path Flanked With Gold

2010-07-16T08:36:00.000-07:00

I stayed outside last night until the sun hovered on the horizon and the mosquitoes chased me indoors. A weather system moved across the sky, painting wisps of pink as the sun set over the clouds. I knew this morning would bring another inspired sky. It did.

I knew the stormy sky would bring rain somewhere, as the humidity slowed my pace. (Sure enough, our local news station warned of flash floods and thunderstorms.) The heat left Kona panting, and she didn't seem to mind as I lingered to watch the sky. She even seemed relaxed as I snapped a picture of her next to our rusted barbed wire fence. I often wonder who put the fence up and what line in guarded so many decades ago.
As we hiked on, the sun crested over the forest in the east, turning the scorched landscape into a hillside of gold.

We turned around into the rising sun. I was grateful for the steep climb that blocked the blinding rays.

When we reached our turnoff point for the car, I decided to keep hiking. Kona followed without hesitation. A year ago, a change in routine would have shot her anxiety through the roof. It's the small things that remind me that I often have no idea what I'm doing with this little dog, but maybe we're on the right path.

How Kona Does Summer

2010-07-14T18:38:00.000-07:00

Winter in July

2010-07-06T18:16:00.001-07:00

I had to use the windshield wipers on the way to the trailhead this morning. When I got out of the car, I looked down the first stretch of trail that normally boasts a view of downtown. This morning, grey covered the city.
I zipped up my vest and Kona and I took off. Looking around, it felt like summer had come and gone, leaving the hills scorched. The morning's moisture was too late to bring life back to the landscape. Witch's Hair suffocated the last stretch of green mustard plants.
I saw animal tracks - first skunk and then raccoon. The trail seemed to be well used the past few days. Perhaps the city scavengers sought refuge from the mayhem of the 4th. Whatever the case, Kona checked out the scene.

We had the noisiest 4th of July that I can remember. Kona, who has never had issues with fireworks, ended up pacing the house, looking for a hiding place on Sunday. Thankfully, her crate worked as a safe haven, but she's seemed off-kilter and ailed by stomach troubles the past few days. I was grateful to have an empty trail to try to reboot this morning.
When we turned around to head home, I stopped to wipe water off my forehead. I took a deep breath to fill my lungs with cool air. It's July, but today was summer's intermission.

Risky Business

2010-06-30T11:35:00.000-07:00

I couldn't take it anymore. I haven't been able to get out for a high-altitude hike with Kona this week, so I took her to our foxtail-infested ridge. I think both Kona and I have been antsy from missing our daily trail time and the extra nervous energy piled too high. Off we went.

Running with Kona on these fireroads wouldn't be risky if she wasn't a pouncer. The trail is wide enough to steer clear of stickers, but Kona can't resist the rabbits and I can't hold her on a short lead. Luckily, I have a new leash that's shorter than Kona's regular line to help limit her range.

The folks at CanaDog found my post about Kona's canicross kit and sent me their new 3-in-1 leash to try out for free. This new line is made out of webbing, instead of rope, so it's easier to hold. It's working well for us because it's only 4 feet long (plus the bungee) which turns out to be the perfect length for me to keep Kona away from the sides of the trail but still keep her attached to my waist. This has required some funny running from me, including quick, sideways dashes to deflect potential pounces, but it keeps my arms happy.

It felt good to move in the overcast morning. June Gloom pushes the marine layer inland this time of year, keeping morning temps down and the sun covered. Despite the cool air, summer surrounded us. All of winter's green has dried. Even the mustard is on its last leg.
Kona was less than thrilled about my bizarre running and squeaking every time she neared the side of the trail, but I don't think I stressed her too much. We stopped at our turn-around point to practice some obedience. Kona had trouble focusing, but gave me a few sits and took her treats. She was much more interested in the ridge above us.

On the final stretch to the car, a row of mustard stood in the middle of the trail, free of foxtails and fair game for sniffing. Kona didn't waste any time.
It was perhaps a risky run, but it was fun to move on our home turf.

Weekend Writeup

2010-06-28T17:17:00.000-07:00

Kona finished her level 3 nose work class last weekend. Her class ended the series with an Odor Recognition Test. The ORT is required for dogs to compete and checks to be sure they recognize the target odor. It's overseen by an official judge.

The test itself is really simple. It's a box drill and the dogs have three minutes to find the odor. It's a blind search for the handlers, so we have to know our dogs well enough to recognize when they find the odor since most of the dogs don't have an official alert at this point.

Kona didn't pass. She was the only dog who didn't. She wasn't able to focus. Though I can sometimes help remind her of what she's doing, no luck this time. I was bummed about it, mostly because I hate taking her to class only to see her stressed out. I also really thought she would pass and was looking forward to an official recognition that Kona and I had accomplished something. I know Kona and I are always accomplishing things, but in the moment it was hard to remind myself of that.

What went wrong? The environment changed. Instead of the human classmates being inside with us, they were all outside. She didn't know the judge and timekeeper, but I don't think they scared her, I think she just didn't put them together with searching.

I did get the affirmation that I read Kona well. She was able to engage her nose a number of times and even paid special attention to a couple boxes, but I knew she was just sniffing and not searching. I thought it was cool to recognize the difference. It was also a good reminder for me that I go to classes with the goal for Kona to have fun in a different environment, with the greater goal of increasing her confidence. I need to be more focused from here on out to cater the class exercises to help Kona relax and have fun.

It was another learning weekend. We'll be back in the level 4 class in a couple weeks!

Here's a Nose Work video if you want to see some dogs at work. The clips of the dogs searching the rows of boxes is the box drill.