Lessons

Main Tiger Mountain Road 

On January 20th, 2014 I embarked on my first trail run ever.  A ten mile trot down the old Carbon River Road to Isput Campground and back.  In fact, I am not sure I would even classify it as a trail run as most of it was gravel road but nevertheless I was hooked. A few days later I would embark on my first trail run on Tiger Mountain and marvel at the beauty that was so close to home.  In that first full year of trail running I would take on two runs that were 50 kilometers long (more on that later).

Fast forward exactly three years to the date of that first trail run and you would find me out on Tiger Mountain again completing the 12 Summits Route and knocking out my first ultra distance adventure of 2017.  There are two things I will always remember about this day.  The first being the now comical interaction between myself and a surly owl.  At the time it wasn't funny as she dive bombed me twice at close range.  After alighting upon a branch after the first swoop, our discussion was civil, polite even.  But after the second dive bomb I let loose with a tirade full of obscenities to which she replied with what has to be the most effective form of resting bitch face I have ever seen.  The second and more important part of that run was the fact that it was the first outing in months that I felt no pain in my pelvis.

Summit of East Tiger

In September of 2015 I hurt myself late on day one of my Wonderland Loop.  After the injury, a descent of any kind caused  pain in my pelvis which then spread up my back and down to my left leg.  Running was pretty much out of the question yet walking was doable.  It hurt, but I could live with it.  My insurance at the time was lame and so I spent the rest of the year hiking and easing up on the steep stuff.  To make a long story short, it allowed me to work on my mental conditioning , to slow down and appreciate the trail in a different way.  Most of all it helped me to understand that I could still cover large distances of terrain as I managed to cover over 260 miles in the month of December.

Perhaps it was a lesson the Universe wanted me to learn and it felt the timing was right for it to be taught. I know not to question these things much anymore and just go with the flow of them.  I had settled into a different rhythm on the trail, my understanding that for me the most important value I held was being out and immersed in Nature, not the method I was using to travel though her.  Then just as suddenly as the pain had appeared, it disappeared.  One day it was there, the next it was gone.  With over 18k of elevation change, the 12 Summit Route is no slouch and yet, nothing.  It's as if a switch that had turned the pain on had been flicked to the "off" position.

I hit the trail the next day, a shorter Tiger Mountain offering that was a sublime route in spring like conditions.  I soaked in the suns rays, and found new artifacts along the old railroad lines that cut their way across the mountain flanks.  Felt a curious and powerful energy on a trail I rarely visited and in the spirit of exploration on a mountain I am so familiar with, still managed to find an unmarked trail that cut through the second growth and deposited me on a trail I knew so well.  Dozens of times I have gone by this spot and failed to notice it.  A surprise gift from the mountain.  And again, no pain.

Grand Ridge Trail

I decided the time had come to try running.  I turned to the most gentle of trails I know in the area, Grand Ridge and did a 13 mile out-and-back, running where I felt comfortable but never kicking it up more than a trot.  I finished the run in 2:34 which isn't some blazing speed, but after months of walking, it sure felt like it.  I was forced to acknowledge that I truly had missed running as much as I denied it.  It was a tool in my outdoor arsenal that I was so happy to have at my disposal again.

I told myself I would "take it easy" and slowly work my way back into it but I could quickly see it just wasn't going to work out that way.  What followed has been a stretch of trail time unlike any other that I have had.  In the last 22 days I have completed six routes of over 50k. A far cry from that two that I completed in a full year. Three of those have been over 44 miles.  In the darkest, wettest months where trail time can be so difficult to be had, I have taken full advantage of the mostly snow free paths at lower elevations.  Knowing that the mountains I love to roam are buried under snow where risk of avalanche has been so high for so long, I have been content below the treeline, admiring a world so close to the city.

Instead of focusing on each run, I thought I would share just some highlights from these past three weeks.  Certain moments that stand out to me.

The smooth trail and my feet a blur to me as I looked down while picking up speed on the Tiger Mountain Trail.  The feeling of just how fast I was moving as the trunks of the trees lining the trail flashed by quicker and quicker.  The bursts of warm sun on my face from between those trunks.  I was taken by the moment, the surging power I felt and let loose a yell of pure joy.  While it can be argued that you see more when you are going slower, there is no doubt in my mind that you feel more when you are running.

Walking through the forest slowly, utter silence around me as I paused to feel each tree trunk that I passed.  The sunlight through the forest canopy highlighting specks of dust floating in the air.  I sit down for a few moments taking it all in. I realize I have no idea what time it is or how long I have been out there.  Timelessness.

Lenticulars on Tahoma

Climbing my way up the forested
flanks of Tiger Mountain in the twilight of pre-dawn, I lift my eyes upward, my sight filled with a dozen shades of pink and purple through the black silhouettes of the tree branches.  The sun is approaching and a brilliant light show is promised.  I intensify my efforts on the climb, burst down the road between West Tiger II and I and make  the viewpoint on Tiger I just as the sun emerges.  I watch this sunrise in awe, having it all to myself in this spot.  Around Tahoma lenticular clouds play.

On a cold but windless night jogging across a bridge over Lake Washington in the distance the skyscrapers of downtown Seattle indicate my finishing point.  Those same structures I had spotted earlier in the day from West Tiger I and marveled that my own two feet would take me to them.  The water on the lake is as smooth as glass and I realize that there is beauty to be found in urban adventuring for those who are ready to see it.

Message to the traveler before entering the I90 Tunnel

The next morning, jogging down the sidewalk on Broadway the only other people I see are a couple of drunken holdovers from the night prior stumbling down the street and the clerk in a convenience store looking out.  He holds his hand up and I wave to him in return.  A huge smile flashes across his face and I can't help but do the same.  In that moment, I know my day will be memorable.

And very wet.

Hours later, ascending Poo Poo Point Trail I climb into a thick mist and the forest surrounding me takes on an eerie tone.  The lush greens that I am use to become muted and everything turns to different shades of gray.  I have traveled 75 miles in the last 28 hours through some of the most challenging weather.  It's been raining most of the time with the temps never rising above 40 degrees.  My feet have been soaked from the start, my cold hands crammed as far into my pockets as I can get them as my gloves are saturated with water, yet my spirits remain high.  Two years ago I wouldn't have even ventured out in this weather.  Now I look at it as just another side of Nature to be appreciated.  A few hours later I am back at my car, an out-and-back from the Summit Trailhead of Tiger Mountain to my front door complete.  An incredibly diverse mix of forest and urban environments.  Ideas for future routes swirling through my mind. 

Playing on Cougar Mountain

Days later a huge snowstorm hits, blanketing the entire area in snow.  I want to get a quick run in before work and head to Cougar Mountain.  Everything is covered in white and not long into my run, a light snow begins to fall.  I lose myself in the moment, and turn to playing and laughing in the snow.  I am sure to the outside observer I look like a complete lunatic but I am overcome by this sudden euphoria.  This winter wonderland speaks to me in a way I didn't expect and I find myself so thankful to get another chance to see these local trails covered in snow.



Finally as darkness settles over me after a long day on the trails, a big light surprises me through the trees.  Perhaps the effort of nearly 50 miles on the day has my senses a bit jumbled.  The light is coming from an area where the trail doesn't go.  I keep moving and it grows larger, the color of it a dull yellow.  I stop and then realize it is the moon breaking the horizon and glimpsed momentarily through breaks in the trees.  I turn my headlamp off, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. It feels as though every creature in the forest is silent and paying homage to this celestial object.  I switch my headlamp back on and continue to a clearing where I know I will get a better view. By the time I reach my destination, the moon has risen to above the trees.  Light wisps of cloud encircle her, but not so opaque as to block out the slightly darker tones of the craters on her surface.  It dawns on me that this object that I am looking at is 239,000 miles from me.  I let that sink in for a moment before heading back out for the final mile of my route.

Climbing the sun dappled trail on Squak Mountain

A handful of moments from a short period of time that I thought worth sharing.  A reminder that each step is the journey and is unique.  With an open mind and senses, paths you have traveled so many times before can reward you with a completely new experience on any given day. 

On a different note, I must apologize for the recent lack of material.  I have wanted to write more in-depth about some of my recent routes but found myself struggling to do so.  As easy as outdooring (I'm pretty sure that's not a word but I'm going with it) comes to me, writing does not.  I am not going to give up on it but realize that I probably won't be as proficient as some would hope. Again, if there is anything specific you as a reader would like to read more about, please let me know.