Training Log Archive: Swampfox

Day 1 of Scotland started off well: felt good warming up and got off to a decent start--not great, not bad, but decent--and felt strong on a steepish climbing leg to #5. The way out of the control was straight back downhill, and it took only a few steps for my weird, occasional upper leg "travel cramps" to seize up my legs. It's quite clear from the splits where things literally went downhill for me--ha! It was pretty painful for any downhill sections after that, and even where it wasn't downhill, I was reduced to a slow jog everywhere else. Too bad, I wasn't expecting it, but it wasn't a total surprise, either.

Today, Day 2, my legs were a bit sore from all that yesterday, but they otherwise weren't bad at all, and so hopefully I'm already past the cramping problem for this particular trip. However, it wasn't any better of a race for me. The forest was quite wide open nearly everywhere, with mostly very good visibility, however the runnability was quite difficult--or at least I found it so. The forest floor was mostly stones overgrown in moss, very uneven and lumpy, with forest workings (branches, tree trunks) in generous amounts on top of the stones. It was quite slow going for someone unused to those conditions, and once again it was more jogging than running for me--albeit for very different reasons.

A couple of controls had a "bag in the woods" aspect to them, and a couple of places I had disagreements with what the map was saying with respect to vegetation and what I was seeing. That aside, however, I would have to say I orienteered poorly--2 misses from carelessness, probably not adjusting well to the presence of so many runners in the forest, hesitations, etc, etc. Even if I subtracted all lost time and had ran perfectly, I would have been far behind the leaders. A little disappointing, but so it goes; it's still been fun to be back in this lush, green land filled with friendly people!

Did some more rain training, and got wet, but not too wet, and, importantly, not too cold. So the training went well.

Also ran down and then back up Devil's Crotch, just to get that hilly feeling set in the legs.

C • Is that the new name for Devil's Claw? 5

Time for some rain practice, so I went out and biked, and it rained, and then I went out and ran, and it rained. Well, really it was just sprinkles, but it was enough to get at the idea.

Didn't score any FDF kills today, but that may have followed from the fact that I didn't see any FDFs, either.

It felt warm out while biking, but when I got back and thought about what St. Louis would be like at 108F, and how firetrucks had had to be dispatched to spray cooling water on the Arch to keep it from melting and collapsing into the Mississippi and how thousands of volunteers from as far away as Lawrence, KS had feverishly sewn together ice vests to be attached to the supporting structures of the Arch, it didn't feel so bad anymore.

So I went out and ran a course at Pelican Bay. 8.3 kms, 29 controls, much cattle, several nighthawks, and a bear.

The most interesting thing was the bear. I had climbed up to the edge of a rocky knoll and had run partway around it and was starting to descend a slope when I noticed a small bear *immediately* in front of me--within about 30'. It was facing me and bent to the ground, so all I could see was its shoulders and back. I was already thinking "uh-oh" when I got a partial glance of a much bigger black object a little further away. Right in the middle of the "flight" response kicking in (the was definitely a "flight" situation and not a "fight or flight" one), the little bear raised its head, and mentally I went "whew" as I saw a green tag dangling from an ear. Not bear, but calf.

My legs felt a little jaded at first, but that probably had something to do with a very short, insufficient warmup--really just the jog to the start point--and the further I was along in the course, the better my legs felt. And they felt pretty good climbing. Not that you ever encounter uphill sections in orienteering.

As I was rounding the next last control--a large boulder--I spotted a nice mule deer antler on the ground right by the boulder. Very odd, because I've visited this same boulder several times already this summer, and I don't see how I could have missed seeing the antler earlier--it was glaringly obvious. And yet a deer couldn't have dropped it there recently; they're still in velvet, just for starters. A person wouldn't have left it there.

So that leaves only one possibility: it was the work of a fictional character, Sherlock Holmes, presumably.

Rode for 2 1/2 hours out past Big Hollow. On the way back, I caught a little off-side spray from a passing rain cloud, but that was okay. It cooled me down and washed me off, and now I probably won't need to shower for a few days at least.

Later, I headed up to Happy Jack for some trails. First fun thing was a yearling cow moose standing in the forest just a little off of HQs Trail. It looked to me like it would let me skirt by on the trail so long as I took it nice and easy, which I did, getting at closest about 20' to the moose. Don't try it at home, folks (I did have two trees between me and it.)

Next fun thing was coming across the group of stray yearling cows I had seen being chased around by a cowboy and his dog and pony the other day. (Should I say it or not? Yes, I shall, I can not resist.) They were all looking utterly uncowed by the experience. ....if you....can just get...your mind together....

Anyway, it was fun seeing those cattle again and I gave them my compliments.

Massive numbers of dragonflies were out, the first day there have been large numbers patrolling up top this season. There were even quite a few of the largest class of dragonfly--the man-O'-war class, capable of consuming upwards of 360 mosquitoes today. Needless to say, mosquito season will be coming to a quick end now.

Considering what I did yesterday and the bike ride today, my legs felt surprisingly fresh, even on the hills. I am sure the performance-enhancing-pizza I have been making has nothing to do with that.

C • Should I say it? 1

O' at Pelican Bay, 12.3 kms, 37 controls, a lot of sage, many cow cows, a lot of bitterbrush, three cow elk, one orienteer. Almost no bears (plenty of bear over-turned rocks, however.) Ran at midday; warm, but still comfortable.

One humiliation (kind of a victory to have only one!): I had set a loop at the far end of the course, beginning and ending with a common control; the 4 lines leading into/out of that control were too much for my pea brain, and I headed out on the loop in reverse order. I didn't get too far before noticing my mistake, but far enough along so that plenty of nearby cows were also able to observe.

In order to get back on course, I had to run right through a herd scattered out on a prairie area, all laying down in the sun and chewing their chew (cuds). Usually in this situation cows will start to pay attention to you as you get closer, and eventually they reluctantly (seemingly) will get to their feet and move on off if you get too close. But not these cows, not today--it was as if I could see them in the finest detail, while I was invisible and noiseless to them, because they didn't even so much as twitch an ear, let alone swivel their heads around. Afterwards I wondered if I could have touched one of them. But probably not.

Set off to run trails at Happy Jack right after a cowboy and his pony and cattle dog got up the trailhead in front of me. When I next saw them, circa 35 minutes later, the pony was at full gallop in a meadow near Brown's Landing, with 6 stray yearling cattle in front of it. The dog was barking and it looked like quite a time! Though I couldn't figure out what the cowboy had in mind--the meadow they were in was only about 300-400m big and surrounded by forest, the next nearest pasture was quite a ways off, and in any event there wouldn't be any nearby gate into the next pasture. But you have to figure a cowboy on his pony knows what he's doing and how to handle cattle.

When I next saw them all, now maybe another 20 minutes later, the cowboy looked as if he might be getting exasperated, the dog definitely looked tired, and the yearling cattle were as feisty as ever and looking like they were enjoying it all. And then one of the yearlings split off from the group with some speed, headed straight for some heavier timber and entered it. The cowboy took after the cow and he and his pony disappeared into the timber as well, which impressed me because I wouldn't have thought they could have fit in there (it would have been pretty tight for a runner just trying to get through without doing too much bobbing and weaving.) Terrible crashing noises! Lots of sticks and branches snapping and breaking! Then, silence.... Next thing I saw, the cow was streaking out of the wooded area and straight down a steep slope through scattered trees and sage, and there was no sign of the cowboy. Score one for the cow?

Skies were threatening rain the entire time--it had already rained once, with many puddles on the trails--and once again I had expected to end up getting soaked, sooner or later. But once again I lucked out, and I made it back to my truck just as the skies were opening up again. A lucky swampfox is a happy swampfox.

The cowboy had got back before I did, and his truck and trailer were gone; I expect he will be returning with reinforcements next time out.

Cruise intervals under gray skies, with lightning in the distance from an advancing storm. Happily, it didn't advance fast enough, and I finished before it got started. Really felt good, and starting from my usual marks I was getting further down the trail each time than I can ever recall. Maybe my watch is starting to age and slow down? That would be one explanation! ; )

I went out biking in the afternoon as a storm was approaching from the west, and once it was over the Snowies and approaching the valley proper, it sent out curved horns of advance rain far off to both sides--in a typical Zulu attack formation, and once the two horns curved completely around and met up, I was entrapped, with the main body advancing from the west.

However, my situation wasn't immediately dire as 1) it wasn't raining yet right where it was, plus 2) no lightning, plus 3) I had my own plan. And my plan was to lure the main body into close proximity, and then hightail it for home at top speed, hopefully getting back just before the main assault began. This would ensure an ample amount of rainfall (hopefully) ending up in my yard, and that's how you take advantage of a Zulu rainstorm attack.

It worked to perfection--this time! Ha! However I can recount many other times when they were total fails.

Once the rains petered off to a mild drizzle, I headed out to go running at Happy Jack. It was quite late, so I thought I might have the trails to myself, but there was one car for a mountain biker in the parking lot.

I had checked the weather radar before leaving home, and I really had expected to maybe get started more or less dry, but to get soaked by one or more passing clouds sooner or later, and so I dressed accordingly in some clothes that would be fine for running while wet, and which could use the washing anyway. I figured it could be good training for Scottish running conditions.

In fact, besides a very few drops just as I was starting out, it never did rain again--it just threatened the whole time.

Running along mindlessly and enjoying not getting soaked in cold rain, things came to a screeching halt at one point when I noticed a dark object up ahead, blocking the trail where the trail ran through a small grove of short, young aspen trees. Cow? Darth Vader? Cloak of Death?

No. It was a bull moose. A very large bull moose with very large antlers still in velvet, and therefore still growing. It looked at me very nonchalantly, and then went back to munching some aspen. It was cool just watching it for a bit, and then I noticed there were too many legs for a bull moose--it was not one bull moose but two, standing side by side, and the second moose had an even larger set of antlers in velvet. I watched for a little while longer but it got to the point where I was ready to continue, and I really wanted to continue along the trail, which presented an obvious problem. I thought that maybe if I moved a little closer they would just pick up and vacate, but they didn't, and now I was starting to feel like I was a little uncomfortably close--I don't know, 45' or so away from them. And there wasn't anything really good I could jump behind right where I was, just in case. Then I could see they had raised their hackles, which is not the way moose show they are just being friendly.

So I backed off slowly, left the trail, and made a big loop around them through the woods, and that was that.

It's so random--just a week or so ago I had remarked to a friend that I hadn't seen a moose in weeks, and in the past several days I've seen three, including the two biggest I've ever seen locally!

Very hazy out by the afternoon, easily discerned from the trails at Happy Jack. The thickest haze was to the west and south and I couldn't make up my mind whether it was just the usual sort of haze that gets generated along the Front Range during hot and dry weather, or if it was some forest fire(s) near and/or far, or what. As a general observation, I believe the air is getting hazier on average with each passing summer.

Lots of bikers out as is usual, and I crossed paths with another runner--less usual. Mountain biking reins supreme at Happy Jack these days.

Another hot day, and, if the forecasts hold up, tomorrow will be the 7th straight day above 80F--a new record--for just a brutal stretch of weather. Dogs spend all day loitering in the shadows and don't show even the merest hint of interest at chasing rabbits or mailmen, fishermen go down the river and open beer rather than their tackle boxes, bees only visit every other flower, and I even heard that some AC company was successful in making a sale of a small window AC unit to some rich family in town.

It's worse at night. Sometimes the temperature doesn't even drop below 50F, and of course when that happens and you leave ice cream out on the counter overnight, bad stuff happens. Like I said, just brutal.

O' at Pelican Bay, 8.6 kms, 24 controls, more sage than you would guess from looking at where the course went, one very well hidden badger hole (but my foot found it anyway), and one bull moose with a large set of antlers still in velvet.

Starting out I was going carefully, partly because the course began with a string of very short legs in some sage, and partly because it didn't appear as if any cows were around. But soon after that I detected a good sized herd which were hunkered down in a well fortified line just inside the edge of a long aspen grove. After that, things went faster and faster. It felt warm in the sun (this was late morning) but not too warm, and there was a nice breeze that still had a cool touch to it.

I haven't done a complete count yet, but my preliminary estimate is that I bashed through at least 8045 sage plants. And I also bashed/cracked a fingernail when I fell after one foot disappeared into an aforementioned, well hidden badger hole.

I also saw one nighthawk fly up off the ground and then try to lure me away from the area by acting injured. I did a quick search for chicks but had no luck in spotting them; I did see one tiny fluff of down on the ground, and from that I knew I was close. Not close enough, though.

With three controls to go, it occurred to me I had had a pretty clean run, and that if I just got the next two controls, then it would be a nice run (the last control was simple)--and just at about that moment, I thought I could see where the next control feature was, so I picked it up, "punched" at the control (there wasn't really anything there) and then looked out at the exit direction...and what I saw made no sense at all. So I looked at the map more carefully, and came to realize that it was right when I was thinking about how I had had a clean run, I was passing the actual control location--ha! Orienteering never ceases to be humbling.

C • Humbling 2

Running at Happy Jack, I saw a familiar coyote. At least I think it's a coyote I've seen before--same location, same appearance (though coyotes to me basically look about the same), and similar behavior. It is the behavior that makes this coyote, because almost all local coyotes are *very* skittish around people, to the point where if they see or hear you first, you probably won't see them. And if you do see them, they are running.

But this coyote has seemed more curious than afraid to me. It's never moved very far away, and never left my sight. At the same time, it's been completely non-threatening. Maybe it's just hoping for a bagel handout.

I also took note of a small jet low in the sky, streaking east. It seemed clear enough it had taken off from the Laramie airport. I see identical jets from time to time, and I have always guessed--though I have no way of knowing--that they are probably fractional ownership jets, bearing coaches or assistant coaches off on recruiting trips.

O' at Twin Boulders, 8.3 kms, 26 controls, lots of cattle, lots of sage. Maybe one mosquito but I can't remember for sure. Maybe that mosquito was somewhere else. Unlike Friday a week ago, the numbers of campers (RVs) out so far were vastly smaller.

Running up at Happy Jack is usually pretty relaxed and carefree, but not today.

I often start the day by by taking a quick look at a completely random newspaper from somewhere in N. America. There are apps that will serve up the newspaper a pick for you. After you've done it a while, you start seeing some repeats and you gain an idea of what to expect from certain places. Like Sheboygan, WI: good chance you're going to see some bratwurst articles. Churchill, CA? Good chance that polar bears are pillaging Dominos Pizza yet again. Opelousas, LA? Another governor is in the process of being convicted.

Today's absolutely-random-I-had-nothing-whatsoever-to-do-with-it newspaper was the Lawrence Journal World out of Lawrence, KS. When I saw that, I thought: "Cool! I've been to Lawrence before!" But when I began glancing at the feature article for the day, my feelings took a distinct shift. It was about spiders. More particularly, spiders at Lake Clinton State Park. Then I was thinking: "Whoa! There are spiders at Lake Clinton State Park? Nobody ever mentioned spiders being at Lake Clinton State Park!"

You see, I've actually orienteered at Clinton Lake. A number of times. And not once did the organizers even *hint* at the possibility of spiders there. And you know, there's a basic obligation to provide that kind of important information up front to the orienteering public so that they can make an informed decision. For instance, if the streams and marshes here in Laramie were thoroughly infested with 20' long, ravenous crocodiles, we would need to warn orienteers about that. It would not be right to send them out onto a course where they were crossing waters infested with crocodiles that would eagerly consume them. And of course we would let folks know about that.

But apparently the orienteering organizers in Lawrence, KS, don't feel the same way about their spiders at Clinton Lake State Park.

And if you're thinking, so what, it's just spiders, then clearly you did not see this article or the accompanying picture of a professional dangerous animals handler, who was, with two hands, just barely able to hold up an anesthetized typical example of the kind of spider you could encounter at Clinton Lake State Park. It looked tarantula-like, but much bigger than your ordinary household sized tarantula. This was more like the size of an SUV tire. It was not the kind of thing you would want to have uppermost in your mind or even somewhere back in the dimmest recesses of your mind if you were out orienteering. What if you slipped and fell down and one of these spiders got to you before you could get back up? It would have you wrapped in spider silk in about two seconds flat.

So as I was running at Happy Jack, it was hard not to think about the possibility there could be spiders here, too. I mean, I know there are no spiders around here. Obviously not, because if there were, there would be signs posted at the I-80 Visitors Center and at all the trail heads, etc., just like there are notices and signs warning about bears everywhere up at Yellowstone. But what if there were spiders here and somehow nobody knew about them, or, worse, people did know about them, but were keeping it to themselves in fear of the impact it would have on tourism to the area?

It was very hard to relax on this run.

C • spiders 13

O' at Diamond Bay (northern part, across the creek), 8.3 kms, 28 controls, basically almost exactly the same as the Men's 2017 WOC Long course, except that everything was different. Cool out and overcast by the time I was there, making for very pleasant running. More cheat grass than a cowboy would prefer, but what are you going to do, turn out the goats?

2 large hawks appeared to be quite unhappy with me and were screeching seemingly the whole time, with one or the other circling around in the air to one side, but never directly overhead. This, despite the fact that I told them repeatedly: "Hey, it's not my fault, I didn't vote for Trump."

Ran trails up top at the end of the day. I thought there would be one of the almost weekly mountain bike races going on, and there was--though at first I had a hard time finding where the course was for this race. Always fun to see the mountain bikers out bouncing over the rocks and roots.

After not seeing any moose in a while, I saw three cow moose while running up at Happy Jack. And only one biker! A three to one moose/biker ratio is pretty impressive.

O' at Pitcher Hill. Warm out, and felt warmer than yesterday, even though I was done before noon. No cloud cover, and not much in the way of shade where I was running. Just sage and sun, sun and sage. Except for where the cheat grass was standing guard. Near the end, as my bacon was melting away and temperatures in the motor were approaching criticality, I noted the irony of running past a large camper trailer that was running AC full blast. It was probably equipped with a frozen yogurt machine inside.

Dinner over at a friend's house tonight included elk and antelope--both taken by bow--and, if I can lean on the tried and true observation that you are what you eat, I should be running faster in the weeks ahead.

O' at Remarkable Flats. 10.4 kms, 26 controls, and set deliberately to get more climb and poorer underfooting that you would get on an ordinary Flats course. And then I took at midday, starting just before noon, to maximize some warmth and sun discomfort.

Despite all that, it still didn't really feel like orienteering in Kansas would feel. Or, to judge from the little snatches of Estonian forest I got to see from one of the WOC videos, anything like Estonia, either. My impression of Estonia from what I saw: jungle! I mean, the only things missing were great apes and elephants.

Another difference was coming across a group of about 40 elk at one point--maybe 40% calves and 60% adult cows. It's probably pretty unusual to run across 40 elk in Kansas while you're orienteering.

Finally got a decent afternoon downpour--lots of rain, some hail, but oddly no lightning (that I could tell.) I had been out biking and got back with about 34 seconds to spare before the bottom really dropped out of the thing.

Ran at Happy Jack in the early evening. I didn't see a single mosquito; I think they must have been still shell shocked from the storm; this current crop of mosquitoes had never seen a storm before, in their brief little adult mosquito lives.

Biked out to the airport to see what was going on (usually not much--it's not exactly Atlanta Hartsfield), but in fact there from a distance it was possible to discern an odd looking object on the tarmac. Which turned out to be a Chinook. How odd at first, until I put it together with the fact there was a fire in the Snowies not too far to the west.

Still warm out, but not like yesterday, and biking was pleasant, and even more so when a passing cloud sprinkled a few drops of rain. Maybe it was one of those clouds you can order up from Amazon, and I was just the lucky beneficiary.

Ran trails starting at about 6, by which time there was some nice breeze to take some of the edge off the warmth of the day. Many cows have been up around Browns Landing the past few days, but I didn't note any this time out, unless you count mountain bikers as cows (which the mountain bikers would surely resent.)

90F was the mark hit for today, warmest day of the year, and h-o-t. Some people will say: "Only 90F, and you call that hot?" Yeah, around here we *do* call that hot! That's about as hot as it gets around here, and tar was bubbling, bridges were sagging, mosquitoes had shed their wings, and cowgirls had shed all their clothes. I guess hot isn't all bad.

I biked in the latter part of the afternoon and it was warm over the blacktop--no question about it. It was still 88F after 6 pm, which is also pretty unusual. I ran trails up top, and chose to go out late--didn't get started until after 7pm. By then, up there, it was much more pleasant. The skies to the W, SW, and S were various hues of purples and pinks and oranges--tinged by smoke from the Keystone Fire. Some bikers were out also, at least one runner, and there were a few mosquitoes that hadn't shed their wings yet.

The day was a good reminder why I never want to live in Phoenix or Houston. I would just melt away and die in a few minutes of summer in either of those places. Mercy!

C • Not dead yet 3

Did some biking and running (trails); supposedly was just in the very low 80s and probably that was right, but in the sun it felt warmer and I would have guessed warmer. Lots of loud noises outside for about 15 minutes, starting at 10 pm--very strange.

As I Was headed out to go run, I heard a fragment of something on the radio about an advised evacuation from Keystone, and it made me wonder what in the world could be going on there. Maybe Trump was there to idle away some time playing golf?

I had 3 roughly 3km pieces of O' courses at Twin Boulders with designated starts and finishes for each piece, and a short jog in between each piece.

As I was on the way towards the last control of the second piece, I got a whiff of a distinct smoky smell and in just 10-15 seconds bluish smoke haze was sweeping through. Then it came to me: it must have been an evacuation order for the tiny, defunct Keystone mining camp in the Smokies, where there are now any number of private cabins, and striking floods or earthquake or Trump visit as possible reasons for an evacuation, that left forest fire. Ergo the smoke.

Before leaving home, I had watched most of the Sprint Relay. That was fun, and the coverage was quite good--a clear step up from the 2016 and 2015, when one of the two commentators really didn't seem to have all that much of an idea what orienteering was really about.

My impression of the map was that it would have been easier to read with 5m contours. But who knows; it would be interesting to see the comparison. At any rate, there were places where it was tough for me to see what was up and what was down, and I didn't know about the bridges in advance, so at first some of the routes looked quite odd. It must have been exciting for the runners!

And another thing came to mind. Not too long ago I was describing orienteering to someone and mentioned that if they saw orienteers running through the woods on TV, they would probably not be impressed, as orienteers in the forest generally look like they're not moving very fast--even though they're working quite hard. Here, in this sprint relay, it looked quite different and sometimes it looked like the runners were flying.

Watching the Sprint Relay provided some good inspiration for training.

Biked west from town, went pretty far, maybe the far edge of the salt flats in Utah, and then turned back for home. A little over 3 hours in all, so pretty good speed for all that.

Ran some afterwards, and the FDFs wisely kept away and harassed some of the weaker available targets (slow moving mountain bikers, horsemen, broke down ATVers, etc.)

For a few brief moments it almost felt like some raindrops were in the air, but I don't know--maybe I just imagined it.

Ran intervals after some mapping at Diamond Bay. ATVers and the like were out in force, and their contrails of dust were everywhere. Lots and lots of campers, too (well, this goes hand in hand with ATV activity since it is pretty much verboten to go camping anymore unless you are bringing along ample supplies of ATVs and buggies and such.) None of this should be taken to mean I have anything against ATVers though--as long as they stay on roads and trails designated for ATVing, I'm fine with it.

June closed out with hardly any rain for the month--19/100ths of an inch for the month. It is rapidly getting pretty dry out. If rain does not come soon, then fire bans will.

Notched 2 more FDF kills today and think I got a third, but it spiraled out of sight before I could be sure, and even careful post-run analysis of the gun cameras couldn't provide conclusive confirmation.

While I was out mapping, I visited the poor will "nest" again, and the mother bird (I assume it's the mother that does most of the nest sitting) flew off to reveal two flattish, oblong, vaguely fluffy bits of something that more than anything else resembled the tannish red underside of thin flakes of ponderosa bark. But even without the slightest indication of a head, beak, or eyes, I knew they were chicks. Later, when I passed by the nest again and again the mother flew off, this time the chicks were slightly raised up, and it was possible to make out their heads.

Of course this goes quite rapidly, and in another few days they will be full size adult birds, feasting on mosquitoes and maybe even the odd FDF or two.

The mapping right now is in a tough little area--not much shows up on the base map, while on the ground there are innumerable rocky details of one sort or another--and only limited room to fit it all into. Pick and choose is the order of the day.