Loralia Takes A Hike (Version 2.0)

It has been growing colder and colder, and the lowering temperatures have accompanied lower activity levels. Despite our new memberships at Planet Fitness, we have been finding it harder and harder to stay as active as we need to. We have teetered upon the edge, ever so close to throwing ourselves into the abyss of couch-dwelling until the Spring thaw arrives.

Last Friday, Lor decided to fight back. Rather than head to the gym for an hour or two on the elliptical, she decided it was time to head out into the wilderness again. I took a look at the temperature (42 degrees), then took a look at the determined expression on Lor's face. I wisely chose to keep my own counsel, and just wore a couple of extra layers of clothing.

As you may remember, my pre-surgery "before" picture was taken on an expedition like this one, back in April. Lor had intended for us to get out into the Sandia Mountains regularly after that hike, but, somehow, the idea never really took hold, and we have been back only once or twice since then. Wearing multiple layers of clothing (even Vixen got a sweater) we drove up to the trailhead and prepared to head into the mountains.

10 minutes later, Lor and I had removed our jackets and taken off Vixen's sweater. Walking uphill over New Mexico sand is a wonderful generator of thermal energy, it turns out. About half a mile up the service road, we came across the trailhead Lor wanted to try today, the Embudo Trail.

We continued forward into the mountains, being dragged hither and thither by our excited dog until she ran into a cactus. After emergency surgery to remove a couple of spines from her foot, she was much more inclined to stay on the trail. At a mile in, I could not help but remember our safari last Spring, where I lasted a whole 4 tenths of a mile before we had to turn back. This was a whole different experience - I was able to talk, was not staring miserably at my feet as I huffed and puffed, and best of all I was able to keep up with Lor and Vixen without straining. Then, after turning into a narrow valley, we were abruptly stopped:

Yes, that is a wall across the trail. I discretely checked my phone. We had come just over a mile to get here. Getting back down to the car would result in a round trip of 2 miles. This was a good day's work for us by any measure. I comfortably waited for Lor to announce that we would head back down.

I had forgotten who I am married to. Without hesitation, Lor announced we were going over the wall.

The next 45 minutes involved us heading further and further up into the Sandias, scrabbling over rockfalls and peering into caves. It became a team-building exercise of sorts, because Vixen was too short to climb many of these obstacles. One of us would climb halfway up, then the lower person would hand the dog up, and climb to the next position, repeating the process.

Halfway through one of these dog transfers, I found myself being grateful that I did not own a Labrador or a Newfoundland.

At last, we finished the vertical section and returned to a relatively "normal" trail running through a canyon between two towering hills. The sun was completely obscured by the tall hill to our South, and despite our exertions I was beginning to grow cold again. We began to find clusters of snow on the ground. Then we broke out into the open and saw this:

...and I just knew that Lor was going to make me climb all the way to the top of the peak ahead of us.

However, sanity prevailed. It is December, after all, and we were already an hour up into the mountains. It was time to turn back and head down to the car before the sun dropped any lower in the sky.

And turning back around, we were given an incredible vista for our efforts:

The peak in the distance is Mount Taylor, over 100 miles away.

I dutifully recorded it, and we headed back down to the relative warmth of the car. 

We managed 3.2 miles in just over 2 hours. Given my performance back in April (one mile in 52 minutes), I have to admit it feels pretty good - a real Non-Scale Victory, if you will. We honestly could have kept going, if not for the fear of being trapped in mountains overnight and freezing to death.

Oh, and the trail we followed? Turns out if we had kept going we would have run into another trail that heads North and South through the mountains, which would have eventually dumped us out near I-40, about 6 miles from our car.

So, all things being equal, I am just as happy we made it a round trip. But I can already hear the gears churning in Lor's mind...

I Better Start Training For Spring,

- Hawkwind

To Climb The Impossible Climb

Over the weekend, Lor had a dream. Inspired by our recent hike out in "the real world", she decided that we should head out to one of the better trail heads here - the ones maintained by the city - and climb up into the foothills. Accordingly,  I gathered up a walking stick, some water, and a Chihuahua, and we drove up to the base of the Embudo Trail, about 4 miles from our house. Once there, Lor spotted our goal for the day:

I had mentioned I married a sadist, yes?

All she wanted to do was climb to the top of that thing. Up the Embudo Trail, a mere 1.5 miles each way, to the Embudo Springs and back. Only 2,000 feet of elevation change over sandy terrain, certain to be filled with coyotes and rattlesnakes. What could go wrong?

I shouldn't have worried about the coyotes and the snakes - they sat along the sides of the trail and laughed as I passed by, huffing and puffing all the way. Ten minutes in I felt like I had been walking for days - thighs quivering, calves burning, ready to lay down and quit, and maybe die while I was at it. I have religiously walked our dog every day around our neighborhood for months, refusing to reduce my mobility anymore, so I thought I could deal with a little hike up into the mountains. Let me tell you - it is a whole different thing walking uphill through sand than it is walking on pavement through a mostly level neighborhood. 

Lor and Vixen were patient, but maybe a third of the way up the trail, I was done. I collapsed on the side of the trail, where Lor unmercifully took this motivational shot of me:

Didn't know they had whales in the desert.

From now on, all I have to do when I don't want to exercise is look at this picture. I may make it the background on my phone. I look truly, truly hideous. My earlier article, filled with platitudes about how feeling good is more important than looking good? Still valid, but looking this bad makes me feel bad. I want to ask "What happened to me?", but I know damn well what happened to me. Take 10 years of Shiner Bock, add 1 year of Depakote, then layer on 12 years of fear that exercise will cause seizures. Stir briskly, drink it down, and you, too, can look like this!

On the way back down my legs were quivering piles of jelly, no longer really working correctly. I got to the car safely nonetheless, and pulled out my phone to see exactly what I had done for the day:

Please note - we completely missed the trail. We'll do better next time.

1 mile, straight up and straight down, in 52 minutes. I can't remember the last time I walked a mile. I can't remember the last time I exercised for 52 minutes.  Maybe there is something to this outdoor hiking thing after all. I just have to tell myself I will do better next time.

Oh, yes - there will be a next time. The background photo on my phone tells me so.

Still Recovering,

- Hawkwind