A Small Observation on Walking and Writing

A small observation - where walking outside helps me write, walking on the treadmill seems to just be exercise.

The Destination Counts (or set a goal)

I've had my eye on the calendar for a couple of weeks now. The day was marked for a return to discipline in what I eat, in when and how I exercise, and the beginning of the new manuscript. While I've been looking forward to this morning for the most part - there's also been a bit of apprehension.

There's much that is available on the benefits of regular exercise, especially if you're training for an endurance event such as a marathon or an ultra-event. I'm not a coach and I don't have any intention of discussing the potential for specific injuries if you're under-trained, or of the value of regular exercise to your general health. I'd just be quoting others, and besides, you've already heard most of what I could toss out to you.

Today, my thoughts move toward the benefits of discipline in multiple areas in my life. When I walk regularly, it's easier for me to eat correctly. When I eat healthy foods, I feel better, have more energy, and the miles I put in training aren't as painful without the extra pounds I suffer if I eat unhealthy foods. I've been at this long enough now, I know what I should and shouldn't eat.
The eating-training-eating-training circle of things is important with just the two elements, but I've got a personal third: my writing. If you don't write, you might be puzzled about its connection to the other two, and maybe it is less connected to the eating. Except the eating is connected to the walking, and the walking is definitely tied to my writing.

For one thing, I write about my walking. For another thing, it's during my walking that I often come up with inspiration for what I write. My first book was actually written in my head while out for a walk. I walked regularly during the writing of my second book. My schedule was to get up early, walk, eat something not too heavy, sit down and write out what my mind had settled on during the walk, and then shower. By that time it'd be close to lunch and I'd edit the morning's work after my mid-day meal.

I'd run out of oomph by about 3:00 p.m. The great thing was by that time of day, I've got just enough time to get other chores taken care of before starting supper. And so my days went along because I was being disciplined. The discipline was easy because I had a destination of sorts (the finished book).

Lately, I've not been in any kind of discipline. This can happen when I take a long walk such as last month's. There's always an internal discussion about the need for recovery and rewarding myself for the many miles I've covered. The recovery issue is probably real, the rewarding tends to last a little too long. I reached my destination of Santa Fe and was kicking around for a few weeks without another.

Today I started back on that path I know is best for me. To get to the trail head I registered for a few reasonably-distanced events. One is late in June, the other in early October. Goals are destinations and they are important. They keep me focused. I don't want to show up and embarrass myself. Even if no one knows who I am when I'm out on the course, people read stats after the fact. I have a little pride.

It's hot here now. The summer heat, the snakes, and the random predatory animal have given me excuses to slack in summers past. I have a treadmill. This morning I did my miles on it and I'm happy for that fact. As is usually the case, the first was the toughest. It takes me a while to get into the rhythm and to relax. Once that happens, I'm good to go for whatever distance I've assigned myself. I do a treadmill lap and then raise the level of the bed. I love hills. They are important to my training.

After my miles, I sat down and read the instructions from the press I've been communicating with. It'll be easier to write the manuscript in the order they want it, rather than write it any ole whichaway and have to do a lot of editing. Their guidelines and rules are pretty straightforward. There's just one little thing: after the end of a sentence they want just a single space. I was trained years ago to have two spaces after a period, then the start of the next sentence. As you may tell from this post, I'm going to have to un-train my fingers from hitting the space bar twice. So far, not so good.

Every paragraph or so this morning I had to go back through my words and remove that second space between sentences. I don't know if the rules have changed, or if I was trained incorrectly to begin with, or if this publisher just has its own thing going, but I do know it's easier to learn things the right way first time around rather than learning one way and having to undo that learning at a later date. At my current age, it's a much later date!

The other day I wrote a post titled "Cross Training." Someone who regularly reads my ramblings commented that he didn't get the title. I felt a bit badly about that, but then a number of other people liked it. So if you're totally lost on the connection between training miles and eating and writing, this might not be your favorite post of mine.

From where I sit, I feel it's fairly obvious. Those first few miles in any training day are the toughest for me. Same with the first few days trying to be disciplined in my eating habits. That first chapter is the toughest. And they are all connected. The more consistently I walk, the more fluid my writing will become. The reason, at least as far as I can figure, is that the time on my feet relaxes my mind and gets me away from the things that create my mental clutter.

As to the double spaces behind the sentences, I anticipate a struggle. I'm feeling about as good about those as I am about giving up processed sugar. Let's face it: it's always easier to gain weight than to lose it! It's going to take time, but with every mile I walk and every day I stick to it, I know I'm getting there. After all, I have a manuscript that needs to be written. It's not good enough to simply have it in my head.

So, today I walked to help me eat right and to help me write with greater ease. I also walked because I have some actual events scheduled. Now I want to eat in a healthier way so I lose some unwanted pounds and feel better when I'm walking. The writing is important to my ability to afford those events and the food I require. It also keeps me walking because if I don't walk I don't have stories to write about.

There's a popular saying, "It's not the destination, it's the journey." Well, I think it's the whole package. The journey is great, but without a destination there's can be just a lot of wandering around.

A Bad Mom

I have to confess that this week I'm feeling slightly guilty. I think I'm a bad mom. I have four grown kids - two in WA, one in CO and one in NC. They all called (or arrived) on Mother's Day and during the course of the various calls I started talking about doing some visiting.



They were all enthusiastic about the potential visits from their old ma. My son in WA even talked about some great places he knows to eat and/or go for entertainment. He writes his own songs and often participates in open-mike nights at various clubs in the Seattle area. It'd be a real thrill to see him perform. But...and here's the painful truth...I've started looking for events in WA and NC. I've even talked to the kids about their joining me in an event or on a hike while I'm out there. The singing son said, "No," to participating, but "Yes" to cheering me on at the finish line. The daughter in NC is actually interested in our doing a half marathon or a 10 miler (because of its location) together. I could cut back to 10 miles if I get to walk along with my girl.



No one has questioned my motives, thank goodness. It's the same way I've taken to approaching vacation - where are the trails? Any events when we're there? My kids are pretty good sports and quite tolerate of my quirks, but I hope they don't compare notes!



In the meantime - anyone here want to contrast the Port Angeles, WA marathon with the Beaverton, OR or Bellevue, WA ones? How about the Odyssey Trail events vs. Medoc Trail events vs. Sony Ericsson City of Oaks marathon? I really wanted to do the Outer Banks but daughter has to submit a grant that week and decided it wouldn't be the best time to visit.



I do feel a little guilty, but then, heck, the married daughter in WA is moving with her husband to the Denver area which means I'll get to look at a whole new list of events. Uh-oh....

Cross-training

When we first got home after the long walk, I had a lot to do to get caught up and tended to stay in the studio to work through the piles of gear, mail, and general stuff. Matt was the one who had to go to work and was, therefore, the one who fielded the common questions, "Well, did she do it? Did she actually walk the whole way?"

Sometimes in the middle of the night I still wake up with that nagging question, "What would have happened if I hadn't gone the distance?" I think we'd have had to move. People around here can be a bit merciless and it wouldn't have mattered if I'd gone 290 miles, if I'd missed those last 19, I'd have failed. That's what they'd remember and what they'd remind me of regularly.

Thank goodness, I finished. I know it, and so do they. Now everyone is my new best friend. Oh, my old friends always believed in me, but now even people who've been less than friendly run across the street to say, "Hi," and to tell me that they wish they'd been there with me. Uh-huh. I smile and think, "Then why weren't you?" Maybe it's not my sweetest self, but let's face it, anyone running or walking an ultra-distance suffers for the sport. The wanna-bees have no idea and I'm the skeptic when it comes to just how far they'd get. Oh, maybe the first day they'd make it, but could they move the second day?

An older woman who is a native to New Mexico and who is a docent at the Camino Real Heritage Center offered a comment to the group at my presentation there a couple of weeks ago: "When I was a little girl my grandmother would tell me what her great-grandmother said about the caravans. Maybe 200 people would start together, leaving Mexico City with their carretas and high hopes. They would stop at our village to get water and supplies, maybe rest and bathe. But by that time, there would only be 50 or 60 people left. Some would die from the Indians, or diseases, or even the snakes, but most just quit because it was too hard. Then they might die before they could get back to some place safe, or they would just go back and know that they didn't make it."

For some reason, at this moment of my recent finish, I have been thinking a lot about DNFs. It's probably because with every article I write, I have that same nagging feeling that rejection will follow. I don't have a regular writing gig, so rejection is a major part of my life. The same was true when I was an artist. I had to compete to get into juried art shows, exhibits, fairs, whatever. Where there is competition, there is always rejection. Usually there's a lot more rejection than there is acceptance. The stats are there to back me up. It's not just true for me - I'm not wallowing - it's true for most of us slugging it out in creative endeavors.

People react to artists and writers much like they do to the ultra-athlete: "Oh, I wish I could stay home and write all day." or "It must be fun to just make art all day," or "How fun for you to run your in those events - I wish I had the time to do that." They don't know that in preparation for an art fair my record was 27 days straight of 10-14 hr. days in the studio. To get to the show was a three-day drive across much of the west, the show, then the three-day drive back. It was a great show. The truck and trailer were nearly empty when we headed back home at the end of the weekend, but I'd put in the hours and worked my behind off. Being an artist and a writer is not a different kind of life than being an ultra-athlete.

So, yesterday I mailed the story of my walk in article-manuscript form to New Mexico Magazine. I got really stressed just before leaving for the post office. I expect rejection. I mail out a lot of manuscripts for books and for articles. Last time, after my walk in Belgium, I mailed to 15 publications and heard back from 5 - all "no thanks." The other 10 didn't even respond. Each rejection is a bit like a DNF. I walked my walk, wrote my story, prepped it the way the publisher wanted it, and didn't finish - the story died somewhere short of the reading public's view.

Maybe that's why I was able to finish my recent walk in spite of all the weather and my feet threw at me. I was tired of the publishing DNFs and was going to make sure I finished without a physical DNF. Finishing was a matter of mind beyond pain and fatigue and weather and blisters. I'd sit in the car during breaks, look out the window, say to Matt, "It's not going to get any easier," and head back out onto the road. He says it was agonizing to watch me those first 20-30 feet when I'd try to make my body move in some kind of rhythm. There were times I could barely shuffle my feet. So, I'd move my arms. I'd tell myself, "You need to walk, which means with some kind of stride." And I'd make my arms move like I was cross-country skiing until my mind got past the pain and my legs cooperated. There were a few times someone else witnessed my pitiful start and I'd just laugh lightly and say, "It's not pretty, but I get going eventually." And I did.

Yesterday the article to NM magazine went out in spite of the fact that I expect rejection. I figuratively worked my arms and got my legs going, and delivered it to the post office (literally). A well-known running magazine (not UR - so let's not start on them again) rejected me straight off when I sent my query. The reply was, "We aren't interested in hiking stories." Well tut. It's part of my problem...I'm a walker in a running magazine world. It narrows my prospects. So what? I can't run 100 mile events but I still manage to go beyond that distance. I keep writing because it's what I do and it gives me pleasure. Even though I had pain and was beat up by the weather, I loved my walk. Matt told me last night, "It's who you are - the writer and the ultra-walker. They won't be denied."

Now I face the final stages in the book proposal. It will be sent off as well.

DNFs aren't fun. They are in fact painful, even when we do learn from them. And yet, the ultra-athlete keeps signing up for the next event or even the same event the following year with great determination to conquer whatever it was at the root of the DNF.

The thing is, we keep moving forward (even if it's in a shuffle that reminds the onlooker of Arte Johnson's old man character on Laugh In) any way we can. Otherwise, we'd succumb to the fear of the DNF. And I think, somewhere in the back of our minds, as we shuffle on to deny the fear its attempt to hold us, we know sooner or later we'll hit our stride. Then dreams of successful finishes dance in our heads. All the fear and all the DNFs are worthwhile when the dreams become reality.

Shuffling on, susan

There was a time when I thought my recent walk would take me through a part of the Cibola National Forest that begins at Hwy. 60. A US Forest Service employee told me months ago to just call when the time came and they'd make arrangements to open the gate that's about 10 miles in as one moves north into the forest. When I called, I was told the forest was closed and I should go around. The reason was that trees were falling in the winds, there'd been a fire in Fall '07 that caused much damage.

So, I debated. "Big Red" (my truck) has managed to get through some amazing places when put in 4x4 and driven by Matt. I get out and walk when he's getting the truck through the tough spots, but we weren't to be deterred. My only hesitation, "We'll see what the winds are doing when we get to Hwy. 60."

Anyone following my story this month has heard me complain about the winds. When I was walking in the Jornada they were gusting to 60 mph, regularly at 50 mph. I wore my sand storm goggles. I sometimes walked backwards just to breathe. Once it was so much that I cried from the nerves and the exhaustion such winds produce.

Before we ever reached Hwy. 60 I walked with our friend John Harrington. Yes, the Foresty professor. Great company, good companion, wise forestry guy. He was mild in his comments, but I take people who care about me and who know stuff seriously. He cautioned us from entering the Cibola at Hwy. 60 with, "More people are killed annually in Yellowstone by falling trees than by grizzlies. The fire was bad." He said a few more things, but the ones given here in quotes are the most accurate in my memory.

John's words were prophetic in saving us. I won't say we weren't already considering going around that bit of forest, but he made the decision easy. When we reached Mountainair, while I tended to my blisters and caught up on my blog, Matt did a bit of driving to find a decent alternate route. If we went north, then east, then north on Riley Rd., then back west as far as we'd gone east, we'd hit the road that heads right up to Chilili. We'd miss the small villages of Manzano and Tajique.

I think it was on Wed. (just over two weeks ago) that I began that stretch of my walk. The day before fire had erupted in the Manzano Mountains, the village of Manzano was being warned about potential evacuation. The winds continued to blow. As I walked my throat felt the smoke at its back. We have a photo of the beginning of that fire, taken from where I walked.

So, it's been two weeks. I had a headache the other day and was edgy with the winds up worse than ever. Turns out they were gusting to 70 mph. I remember thinking, "I was insane to be out in these day after day, what was I thinking?" Well, we know that I was just in the "going the miles" zone and not really in open thought.

The thing is, those winds of a couple of days ago caught the fire once more in the Cibola. Homes in Manzano were lost the first week. The fire was 95% contained as of early this week. Wednesday night, the forest erupted in flame once more. Tajique was evacuated yesterday, more homes were expected to be gone.

As of last night, 12,000 acres have burned. Right now the wind is mild, more along the lines of a gentle breeze. Parts of the state are suffering as low as 8% humidity. With lack of rain and the high winds, we're simply drying out.

More than one of you has wished me well, hoping I'm not near the fire. I'm not near the Trigo. We are near another national forest. We're hoping everyone obeys the "no open fires" rules that will probably be in place for the next several months. It may be that barbeque grills will be restricted as well. It's that dry. They've been banned before.

I am not sure why I felt the need to write this, except maybe to express the fact that I'm so very grateful we chose the road rather than the woods. We'd have been caught right in it - were even supposed to have camped there the night before the fire started. We'd have been there when it began. Sometimes, things work out in ways we can't imagine. It still gives me goosebumps.

Anyway, today I'm starting to formulate my Table of Contents in my head. It may even make it to paper. I usually have titles for things as they are written, so this is a first - naming chapters before they've begun. But then again, the story is there. It's been lived. I guess it's already been written by my feet, eh?

Something of a post-walk report

Hey all,

Somewhere along the way, it seems that more than one of you asked for a post-walk report and I for some reason amicably agreed to provide one.

I'm kind of stuck. Since the walk wasn't an event, I can't say where I placed, or even give a finish time that compares to anything else. I guess I can say I got a PR - 309 miles in 19 days. Not so great when you think about the folks running and walking at the Sri Chimnoy (I hope I spelled that right). Mark Dorion has sent in the report via Andy that the rain was horrible. I didn't get rained on, but I did have just about every other kind of weather NM could throw at me. As a matter of fact, the wind is back and fierce as usual.

I work on our property, so in the week that I've been home, I've not seen too many people. Matt comes home and gives me the scoop on the comments he's heard about my walk. Mostly, people want to know if I pulled it off. They seem to have had little faith in me, or maybe it is just that they knew where I was going to walk. I dunno. I can't even say I really care. I did it and that is what counts.

There's not been a real report because my head is too full. It's not easy to sort such a trip out while still needing to do all the daily stuff that life requires. I'm also in creative mode where I am shuffling thoughts between magazine articles, newspaper articles, and the Table of Contents required for the next step toward the book contract. It's hard to condense the story for the articles while thinking about how many pages I need to fill to make the book more than a booklet.

Today I worked all day on the article for the local newspaper's monthly magazine. My deadline is Friday. The mag. will come out in late May. The deal was that the editor was going to write an article, asked me to collaborate, and for his part he just put a photo of me with a caption in this week's paper. I seem to have come out on the more-work end of our "collaboration." At least my article is done now.

I wrote one while I was still in Santa Fe. I'll submit it to a regular monthly magazine. I was so tired I let it sit, thinking that it was total crapola. Matt read it the other day and said it's much better than I thought. I wasn't even sure it held together, but he says it flows just fine. It's hard to tell the same story in many different ways. The book is pressing on me.

So, I've done some thinking on what you'd want to read. I don't do so many "events" that I'm used to putting together formal race reports. I usually just write what I'm feeling or thinking and let it go from there. I've received several comments from people who've seen the photos on my website. The comments are all pretty much on the same order - "How did you get through it? It's a wonder you finished!" One friend wrote, "They're chilling."

The comments have had me trying to remember how I did get through it. I'm not sure I have an answer. How do we get through any of our endurance efforts? We watch our feet, we watch the landscape, we measure it the best way we can as it unfolds...1 mile, 2...10...20...and so on. With the wind blowing today, I have a headache and am a little cranky. The wind. It was my constant challenge on this walk. It sucks the air right out of your lungs. Today I went out to get something and bent down to talk to one of the dogs. A cottonwood fuzz blew into my throat, I thought I was going to choke to death. I was gasping for air, spitting up nastiness, had snot and tears running down my face, and was beat red. I finally coughed up enough junk that I think the fuzz went with it. When it was all done my headache was worse. I really am not happy that the wind is still blowing. How on earth did I walk through it day after day? I don't know. I just did. Some days I handled it better than others. Once I was so worn out with the wind that I cried. Matt told me that as I approached where he was standing, he knew how I felt. He'd had to hold onto the fence to keep his footing. He struggled watching me, wanting to not see me suffering.

If the wind wasn't blowing today, I wonder if I'd remember such details. After all, pain is something you can't really remember. You remember that you had pain, but you can't recall how it felt except in descriptive terms. You cannot make your body re-live the pain. Same with being out in the wind. Unless I go out and stand in it and breathe in more cottonwood fuzzes all I have is memory of discomfort.

There persists a nagging desire to do just that. Oh not breathe in the fuzz, but to be out walking again. I'm a little restless. It's hard to settle down. The Jornada got into my soul. Certain places there haunt me. Showing the slides last Saturday stirred up the longing all the more. People think I'm crazy. The Jornada is a forlorn place. There are lost graves throughout. People who died while crossing. No markers to remember them by.

Crossing such a place brings one to humility. It is full of forces greater than I. I may have walked across it, but I cannot conquer it. There were moments when I felt the struggle between me and the place. It was as though the place would claim me and not allow me to pass beyond its boundaries. It's not that I felt I would die, just that I would not be let go of. And maybe I haven't been. Maybe that is the magic of the place. Maybe it captured me, even though I went forth from it, I am now a prisoner to it.

I moved beyond in the miles, but not in the spirit. This morning I wrote of those who crossed hundreds of years ago. I compared their journey with mine, the fact that I could not travel back in time. I was always aware that I could get in the truck and go for whatever supplies I needed. When I was worn out, stinky and sore, I could head to accommodations that would provide me with a shower and a bed. I live in these modern times and we took a DVD player with us for those moments when we wanted modern entertainment. There was enough discomfort, I felt no guilt at my conveniences.

And yet, I feel so close to those who have gone before me. Many died. Many quit. But some finished their journey. They found a way across and they survived. They crossed on horses and in carretas. I walked. It was my way to know their path. I wonder if they missed the crossing? No answers today, just musings. Sorry, but the wind distracts me.

For those of you who enjoy the technical stuff - here is how I walked my miles:
Day 1 - 16.9
Day 2 - 20
Day 3 - 18.2
Day 4 - 10.5
Day 5 - 21.1
Day 6 - 20.6
Day 7 - 13.5
Day 8 - 14.6
Day 9 - 18.1
Day 10 - 8.2
Day 11 - 20.4
Day 12 - 18
Day 13 - 12.4
Day 14 - 16
Day 15 - 20
Day 16 - 20.1
Day 17 - 11
Day 18 - 15+ (Matt has the exact total)
Day 19 - 13+ " " " " "

The grand total was 309 miles. I went from elevations of 4,385 ft. to well over 7,000 ft., down and back up again.

I wore three different pairs of shoes. Day 1 I was in Keen hiking shoes. Day 2 I was in my Mizuno running shoes. Day 3 - 9 or 10 I was in Keen hiking sandals. Then I was on paved roads and back in my Mizunos.

Stories will come back to me, and I will share them. Mostly now I have images. They are of softly lit hills and of silence. That's another thing hard to re-play - the silence. But when I am alone and I close my eyes, I think of the Upham Hills and almost, not quite but almost, can feel the silence. Today it is simply to windy to write that I can hear it.

Cheers all! susan

I Finished!

This will be quick as we're heading out to dinner soon. A place the has true Spanish food (we're talking paella and lamb dishes) has 40% off food and wine on Mondays...did we time this finish well?!
Here's a run-down on the day:
Up at 5:30am, walking by 7:00am to get 2 miles done before my visit to Turquoise Trail Elementary.Great time with the kids.
Clicked off another 3 miles, then a stop for pancakes and hot chocolate.
Then I pretty much walked along specific streets of Santa Fe which brought me within 8/10 of a mile to the plaza.
By this time it was 2 pm so we checked into our B&B, I had a shower and change of clothes and looked all "fresh" to finish my walk.Matt drove me back to the junction of the Old Pecos Trail and the Old Santa Fe Trail, then he headed off to park.

Shortly after the Round House (Gov's mansion and capitol bldg.) is the Church of San Miguel. It's one of our favorite places in Santa Fe and is the oldest church structure in the USA dating back to 1610. Matt turned to me and said, "I think this one you should do alone." I walked inside and promptly burst into tears. Good thing for pews and few tourists. I let my tears be my prayer of thanksgiving, I figure God knows they were heartfelt.

And then I walked 2/10 mile to the plaza where Matt was waiting. We waited about 10 minutes, the mayor turned up, I gave him his letter and a small gift from me, we visited briefly and I was done. The mayor btw is a very down to earth kind of guy who has lots of ideas for motivating people to get outside - like connecting four already existing trails to make one large 25 mile one.

Today has been the loveliest day weather-wise, and I'm happy to report the one where I have had no foot pain related to blisters or any other complaints. It was all rather perfect and low key.

How do I feel? It's all a little surreal. There were times today when I was grinning like a fool as I walked along watching all the busy busy people whipping around in their vehicles. It was like I was sitting on a huge secret. It's been quite an adventure and one that I know will sort itself into some kind of shape. One thing I know - I have seen New Mexico as few (if any) still living have. It is a beautiful state with vast and varied landscapes. The desert presents challenges unlike any I can imagine - both physically and spiritually.

Thank you to each of you for the encouragement and support throughout. Oh, and the final mileage: 309 miles even.