Conway

This is the spring of solo distancing the valley. Last weekend I did the old Nookachamps half marathon route, and visited with the Taylors. This week, I did a loop from home to Conway and back, adding up to 16 miles. I've always wanted to do this route, and it ended up being one of my favorite Saturday mornings in quite some time.

Most of my day was a walk. Up early, the temps were in the 50s or 60s, but the sun really came out, and we hit 80 by midday. I wandered south through Mount Vernon until I got on the Conway frontage road, and too that straight out. Came back via the Dike Road, and walked part of the dike along the Skagit River.

So many little things to see. Painted barns, hand-painted signs, honor pay system fruit stands, recently planted fields, the river, Mount Baker.  Just one of those gorgeous days, with nothing to worry about but moving on.

I am doing the Great Virtual Run Across Tennessee. I'm supposed to cover over 600 miles in four months, which means 30 to 40 miles per week. So far so good--I'm getting out more, which is sure to lead to good things.

The coronvirus thing is in the news, in every discussion. Shuffling the feet outdoors is the best distraction.

Tulip Run 2020

I ran for the tulips this past weekend, even if the Tulip Festival is canceled. I did something like a ten mile loop from my door, out into the valley and along the Skagit River. The roads were quiet, and the backroads quieter still. The parking lot for the Tulip Festival empty, but there were some lookie loos driving around. I enjoyed the flats and farm fields, and then finished up along the backside of the Skagit River, near Edgewater Park.

The weather is turning better now, which means I'll have to get more creative with my runs. I have options, and I'm discovering new backroads around town where dogs bark at me as I go by, and the cars are few.

I get a kick out of all the things I can find and see, on a run from home. Endless discoveries and variety. The Skagit Valley is a beautiful place to be locked down. Hopefully things lift enough soon to share some trails in the high country, when things open up. This may be the year of the backpack, although I'd love to get some aloha at some point.

Mount Vernon During Coronavirus

I'm feeling a little bit gothic. Hard times in a pandemic. But here we are, suddenly. We make the most of things, wherever we are. I get out and do my walks and runs, and sometimes I take pictures. There is much to find, in the alleys and on the hills of Mount Vernon.

Washington State like about three-quarters of the country is in a state of lockdown. Some call it shelter in place; Alaska calls it hunker down. Stay home, stay healthy. Trips to the grocery store are ok, as are walks and runs, but most are working from home.

The National Parks, State Parks, National Forests, and DNR lands are all closed, pretty much. Blanchard and Chuckanut are sort of off-limits. I haven't gone there, in any case.

I get up, and go for a walk around the neighborhood, alternating streets. I check out what people are doing with their homes. I listen to the birds, everywhere. I look at trees--the cherry blossoms are blooming right now. Spring is here, but it's still a bit cold. I "social distance" myself to the opposite crosswalk, when I see someone.

At lunch or in the evening, I try to put in a run. I've been running down by the Skagit River, down by the hospital, and around town. I carry my phone and take pics, sometimes. Its nice to run around town more, as so often I do my running in Bellingham.

Usually, this is Tulip Festival time in Mount Vernon. There are tulips, but no festival. Restaurants are closed, but I have noticed some lines outside, for take-out. It feels good to be a consumer sometimes, but every personal interaction may be a germ vector. Ugh.

Today Skagit County reported it is up to 128 cases. Seems like it was less than ten, not more than two weeks ago. The news is all fear. I try to use routine to hold on to the normal. Be well, friends.

Wiley Slough

Today was supposed to be the Chuckanut 50k. My progress towards a finish was going fine, until I rolled my ankle, bad, in the last quarter mile of the Ebey Kettles Run in late February. Nevertheless, I intended on toeing the line, perhaps with an ankle wrap, and tour the Chuckanuts today.

Nevertheless.

The world has changed dramatically in the past three or four weeks, although the birds of Wiley Slough are not in the loop. The coronavirus has hit the United States like a Hurricane Katrina, knocking society off its moorings. The government prohibits gatherings--first it was 250 or more, then 50, and now 10, or less. Chuckanut sadly postponed, like everything else. I'll let others write about the particulars, but this is a time like no other, where we are supposed to stay home, and businesses are shuttering everywhere.

Well, maybe I'll say a little more. It is a time of fear. Fear of grabbing a door handle, fear of getting too close to anyone, fear for our relatives and friends, fear for ourselves. There is uncertainty, with announcements from DC, the Governor, the Mayor, every day, ratcheting down our freedoms for the benefit our public health. A common good. Only two or three weeks ago, things felt relatively normal. But now, Sauron has come to the Shire.

But not so much Wiley Slough, one of my quiet places, on Fir Island. Instead of Chuckanut, or even a long run, I took a slow walk through some of my favorite marshlands. The water level is down lower than I think I've ever seen, and a pair of mudboots might've made for.a wholly different adventure, off trail.  Eagles, hawks, herons, waterfowl, an owl hooting, unseen. A slow walk as opposed to a sweaty run. The worries remain, but a little bit of outside goes a long way.

Friends, the best of health to you--both physical and mental--in these difficult times.

Fort Ebey Kettles Half Marathon

Last Saturday I ran the Fort Ebey Kettles Half Marathon, for the third time I think. It was a terrific morning to be out, with an early chill and later warming up into the 50s. That's about the best you can hope for in February. I like this event, because it puts me on Whidbey Island by the ocean, and the trails are really runnable.

Morning coffee at home with Deb. The race starts at 10:10 for the second wave, which gives folks a lot of time to make their way up to Fort Ebey from southern ports of call. For me, its about a 50 minute drive, and a beautiful one at that, with the flats of Skagit, Deception Pass, and Whidbey roads along the way.

On Monday, I was scheduled to go down to Seattle for a litigation training, which is actually kind of intense. So, for most of the run, I was switching between thinking about my running flow and then how best to present an opening statement for a company defending a specific sexual harassment claim. I didn't get to pick my side--they split the participants up. Anyway, for much of the run I was basically talking to myself, rehearsing statements. This is unusual, as typically when I run I'm not thinking about much more than observing the nature around me.

Maybe that all helped me keep the run going, as I ran an improved pace over the last time I did the event in 2015 or so. I can't remember--I probably walked a bunch that time. All was going well, but frustrating enough--I rolled my tricksy ankle with a quarter mile to go. So now, I'm typing with a still sore ankle, one week later.  A bit of concern with Chuckanut coming up in a few weeks. I imagine I should see a specialist, or a physical therapist, and maybe I will, but I think I'll take up some stretch band exercises, and make sure there's some ice in the freezer.

Chuckanut in February

The last two weekends I've ventured into the Chuckanuts, in anticipation of the 50k in March. January may well have been the wettest month on record. February has continued that trend through the first week. We've had pineapple winds and all manner of rain--sideways hard, steady drizzle, relentless showers. The wind has caused trees to fall across the trails, and yesterday a mudslide shut down Chuckanut after I arrived at the trailhead. I had to route home via Old Samish Highway.  Perhaps that's why the trails seemed emptier than normal this weekend--a major difference from last week, when it seems everyone and their friend was motoring up the hills, past me, with smiles.

Yesterday, I only saw one person after passing Fragrance Lake Junction, up Chinscraper, and around the back on the Ridge/Lost Lake Loop. I hiked up to the top of Chuckanut, barely running, but I managed to jog the ridge, and jogged the back side and way back to the car.  I guess I probably put in 15 miles, at an unimpressive but better than hiking pace.

The water was flowing. As per below, the trail in parts was a stream. Puddles everywhere, and I had to watch my step on the ridge, as the wet roots were surely slippery. I guess on Orcas the runners for the past few weekends have been running through trail streams. No spills for me this weekend, but last weekend I landed on my butt, hard, coming off the chinscraper trail to Fragrance Lake Road.

I am parking inside Larrabee these days, because there have been a high incidence of broken glass car break-ins in the Lost Lake and Fragrance trailhead lots. You would think the State would set up some wildlife cams to record activity in these highly trafficked places. Not that hard to do, and with a sign or too, perhaps some deterrence. They could also place park vehicle in strategic places. And catch the crooks--they should do that too.

We are ready for things to spring up a bit around here. Too much dark and rain. The sound of the furnace kicking in is getting old.

Blanchard Loop

Nice day today running around Blanchard. Skies threatened rain the whole time, and the trails had less than usual on them for when I ran, around mid-day. I actually ran a fair amount of the loop, and while my steps were slow, I was steady.

There was a wind storm this week, and so many trees were down. Below is a picture of one of them, which has sign on it. I wished I had a rock hammer, as the fallen trees leave many rocks uncovered.

I miss the days when the trail was rough, and the signs were few. Still, thankful to see a WTA trail party out there, making the tail smooth and promoting the ethic of trail care.

Midway through the run, Deb texted me to give me the sad news that Kobe and his daughter died in a helicopter crash. Tragic, sad, sad, so very sad.