Rogue River Trail Run

I started this sentence over and over again, erasing version after version, because I can't figure out how best to describe this adventure.  I didn't post about it much when I was training for it, because I wasn't following my original training plan, and I was really struggling with the sense that I hadn't put all the checks in the right boxes.  I felt weird, almost ashamed, of not following my training plan on its beautiful spreadsheet.  But, as I now know, the training I did was much better than the spreadsheet, because instead of following the plan, I just listened to my body and had fun.  So, my training process was organic and un-regimented, and nothing to write home about, but the run itself, the run itself was... sublime.

It was tech-free, ego-free, and entirely beautiful.  The map above was the route we took, running from right to left along the trail as pictured.  

DAY ONE:

We met in Merlin, OR, on Monday.  I showed up alone at the rafting company and met Tara, Nina, Layla and Karin, four friends who decided to go on the trip as a girls' adventure vacation.  I was so excited to meet the other runners and to learn that they were all about my age.  I was more excited when they turned out to be hilarious, welcoming, irreverent, strong, encouraging and generally fantastic.  We met our running guide, Vic, and our rafting guide, Matt, later to be nicknamed Padre and Diesel.  We packed our stuff into dry bags and loaded up in a van to drive to Grave Creek.  At Grave Creek, Matt put the raft, loaded with all our stuff, into the river, and we took to the trail.  

It was HOT, and rocky, and steep.  We wound our way up the hill along the river until we were running along the edge of a cliff looking down down down to the river on our left.  

We ran about three miles and then stopped at Whiskey Creek to see a historic cabin and refill our water.  We saw this sign, letting us know we had many many miles to go until the end of the adventure:

The trail was gorgeous and we had lovely, though slightly hot, weather.  

At the end of a long, lovely morning of running, we stopped for a late lunch and spent a few hours eating, relaxing and sticking our feet in the river, before we were paddled across the river to Black Bar Lodge.  After winding up the trail to the lodge, we saw the welcoming committee:

 

I stayed in this lovely little cabin, complete with a hot shower!  Very civilized.  

I had a great time hanging out on the lawn with my new friends before dinner.

By the end of the day, I felt totally at ease and confident that I hadn't dramatically overestimated my capabilities or gotten in over my head.  Luckily, I had a pace-buddy in the group of girls, Layla, who was willing to walk the steep uphill sections with me, rather than run them.  As a result of our less all-out approach to hills, she and I would end up a few minutes behind the other three at the end of each section.  But since we stopped for breaks fairly often and had a nice long lunch and relaxation break before we hit the lodge, we were never that far behind. 

It was nice to have a buddy for the run, though we didn't always talk.  I ran silent for the first time in a long time, running just to run, without music or chatter, and heard my breath in my ears and my feet on the trail, the wind and the river... and the quiet in my own head.  I found a pace that felt natural and sustainable, and then didn't have to think much at all, except about avoiding rocks, jumping streams, and ducking the occasional low branch.  I felt both wonderfully included and wonderfully alone, and though the running was hard, it was always good-hard.  Not overwhelming, just empowering.  

I slept well in the total silence of the woods after the lodge turned off the generator.  

DAY TWO:

I woke up in my snug little cabin, showered and went down to the lodge for breakfast, which was yummy.  Then, we repacked our stuff and got all our gear on and stretched, ready for 14.8 miles!

The girls gave me the extra pink running shirt they'd had made for their trip, a generous gesture of inclusiveness, and so I was made an honorary member of this ridiculous and awesome tribe of ladies:

We decided to run about nine miles on the second day, then take a running break and ride the raft for a few miles, before finishing out our day with a short mile or two into the lodge.  The first 9 miles flew by.  More beautiful scenery, more silliness and hijinks on the trail, more laughs.

Taking a break to ride in the boat was awesome.  I think saving my legs a bit for the long miles of the last day was a good idea, and while we were on the river, we got to see a bald eagle fishing.  Wow!  Layla took a turn on the oars and did a great job not running into rocks, but Matt, our river guide, took over for the rough parts.  We went through a few small rapids, but nothing too exciting.  It was relaxing and beautiful and I managed to stay relatively dry through the rapids.

We stopped for lunch after our raft ride, and spent an enjoyable hour eating and soaking our feet and sunbathing again, before we jogged the last mile or two to Marial Lodge.

Marial Lodge was amazing.  The innkeepers were welcoming, the food was fantastic, and the views were lovely.  We spent the evening on the deck, enjoying some wine, some games, the view, the bird-feeder, and a chance to rest.  

DAY THREE:

I was a little nervous when I woke up on Day Three, because I was a little sore and we had sixteen (16!!) miles to run.  We had talked about it the night before and decided to try to do the whole day running and not resort to the raft.  This was the end of our adventure, our biggest test, and I was especially determined to challenge myself and do it.  After a delicious breakfast, we geared up.  In addition to the usual water, sunscreen, bug spray and other accouterments, Karin started making daisy chains.  We ran the whole day with flowers in our hair, and amazingly, they stayed put!  

After many hours of running and two totally brutal hills that were NOT in the brochure (ow!), we made it to the end.  We celebrated on the boat launch at Foster Bar with lunch, cookies, and a quick dip in the river to wash any poison oak off.  

In sum: This was awesome.  I feel incredibly blessed that the weather cooperated, that I managed to avoid injury and poison oak and blisters, that I stumbled into the company of such wonderful people, and that I trusted my body and trained up to where I could run 38 miles in three days and feel... amazing.  To go places only reachable on foot or by boat, to see such a breadth of Oregon's natural landscape, to challenge myself and find my strength with no technology, no ego and no pace clock, to have had these three days of wonder was a joy and a triumph.  

Thanks to everyone who supported and encouraged me to do this, special thanks to Nina, Layla, Tara, Karin, Matt and Vic, who were there for every mile.  I totally want to do it again!

Vignettes

One
I was exhausted and re-wearing the same clothes for the 4th or 5th time.  A Christmas-break road trip from Colorado to California and then back to college in Washington had been prolonged by a blizzard that trapped us in Elko, Nevada for two days, and then again by an ice storm that kept us in Portland.  I was missing a suitcase that had somehow gotten lost on the first leg of the trip, and so I had no clean underwear, no cell phone charger and was uncertain of the fate of most of my Christmas gifts.  I was giddy with the prospect of a shower and my own bed, reading the signs aloud as each familiar landmark welcomed us back.  The Tacoma Dome.  The Glass Museum.

And finally, getting off I-5, taking the exit for Highway 16, only a few miles from campus and home.  Spencer's phone rang, and I answered, because he was driving.  It was for me.

"Alice, I'm afraid I have some very bad news," he began.  "It's your grandfather..."

"Daddy, no."  I couldn't breathe.  "No."

Two
It was snowing quite a bit, and the road was very dark.  My father looked older than I remembered, hands on the steering wheel, peering at highway signs.  A lot has changed, even in these backroads towns of corn country, and we numb and tired pilgrims had gotten lost.  Somewhere, there, in that suddenly-unfamiliar chunk of rural Indiana, there is an oak tree growing on the roof of an old, dignified courthouse in a lovely little town.  Its roots have grabbed ahold of the building with stubborn firmness and Midwestern insistence, and the townspeople apparently felt that, like themselves, it should stay where it grew.  As we drove by, I could see the branches uplit by the lights in the little square as we went past, on our way to another little town where my father had grown up, on our way to the sacred ground where my grandfather would always rest.

Three
 "Why, Alice, what are you doing?"  My Aunt Esther could somehow tell by my posture on the lovely reception chair that something was amiss.

"I'm in 'jail,'" I started to explain.

Before I could elaborate, my aunt laughed and my very indignant cousin Maya, age 8, skidded toward me in her patent-leather maryjanes and suitably ruffly dress, scolding me.  Prisoners, of course, cannot talk.  Aunt Esther, seeing a ready opportunity for a break, managed to get herself arrested and me released, and relaxed into the chair in my place.  Before Maya could arrest any additional funeral guests, I took her hand and asked if she would come outside with me.

The snow was thick and fluffy, falling in large, puffy flakes.  Our dress shoes were treacherous on the icy bricks of the church's courtyard.  I held her hand and led her to the plain brass door, behind which our grandfather's ashes resided in an incongruous plastic bin.  Later, a plaque with his name would adorn the spot, but for now, it was flat cold and gave no hint that the man I loved so dearly had chosen it as his resting place.

"Maya, do you want to say goodbye to grandpa?"  I knew she wouldn't remember, and probably didn't understand, but I thought someone should give her the chance to participate, to have her moment, in case in later years she did remember.

"Bye-Bye, grandpa!" She trilled, and I lifted her up to place her hand on the brass, which she did with an enthusiastic and somewhat confused smack.

"Bye-Bye, grandpa, " I repeated.  We went back inside, to the warm, and let Aunt Esther out of jail.

Meal Plan

Here's the plan:

Vietnamese Noodle Salad
Cherry Chipotle Turkey Cutlets with Sweet Corn Casserole
Roast Chicken with Kale and Sweet Potatoes
Ratatouille and Garlic Parmesan Toasts
Green Chili Mac and Cheese 


Yum!