Sorry it's taken me a few days to write more about my hike, but I've been on the road.

So...morning of the hike, alarm went off at 3:30 and we had to meet for breakfast at 4:30. By 5:00 a.m., we were on our bus headed to the Canyon rim. Very quiet there that time of the morning; the tourists were all still in bed. And it was cool...we all started off in fleece or wool.

But it didn't take long for it to warm up, and we started peeling off layers. The 4.5 miles down the canyon was great. The sun was coming up, we were marveling at the rock formations, tiny lizards, and plant life. Lots of good water & outhouse stops along the way.

Even though the next 3 miles of trail was flat, it was hot. There was absolutely no cover. But wow, what a view of the Colorado River when we got out to the end of Plateau Point! We had lunch at the area called Indian Gardens, then at 11:30 started back up the 4.5 miles. Here's where I started to fade.

All the training had paid off and I was in good shape physically to do this. But the heat really started to get to me. I thought I was doing all the right things with drinking plenty of water and taking electrolytes, but it wasn't enough. During the first 1/3 of the way up, I really started to wonder if I was going to need to be evacuated out - lightheaded, etc.

But then Dan, our guide, started feeding me these highly concentrated "Hammer Gel" electrolyte supplements, and dowsed my extra shirt with water and wrapped it around my neck. When all that kicked in, the hike went back to being hard work, but not impossible.

I was slower than the rest of our group, but made it to the top about 1/2 hour after they did - whew! And as I already posted about, they were there to cheer me on - very cool!

A couple reflections:

Standing on the rim, I could only look at the canyon. From hiking into it, I feel like I experienced it on a much more personal level. I went back to the rim the day after the hike as a tourist. It was an odd, tame feeling compared to actually being inside the canyon.

The Grand Canyon is BIG. That's obvious from standing at the top of it, but even more obvious when you spend hours walking into it, with the walls of the canyon looming over you. From the top, it still looked a bit unreal to me. From the middle of it, I was much more in awe of the enormity of it. And in awe of the amazing artistry of our Creator.

They told us to reflect on what we'd learned during the months of training. I've never been that athletic, so the idea that I could do something like this is quite amazing to me. Some might think that a key learning is that you can do anything you set your mind to. But I've more or less always believed that anyway.

What I think was a more important key learning for me was how often we can create stereotypes of ourselves (like me not being athletic) that holds us back from trying things since it doesn't fit the stereotype we've created. So my key learning from this experience is to examine every image I have of myself to see which ones may be holding me back from wonderful new experiences.

See photos of the trek.

I did it!

I'll write more later (and provide some photos!), but wanted to give you all a quick update.

I'd been surprised to find that I was assigned to the same group as most of the rest of our team (who are all faster than I am). I suspected the coaches rigged it somehow to make that happen and was a bit worried about keeping up.

Sure enough, I was last one out of the canyon today, about 1/2 hour behind the rest of the group. (More later on that - but the heat really did a number on me - I thought I was prepared with appropriate electrolytes, but still was in bad shape for about 1 1/2 miles.)

But I found it was better to trail in last with friends, than to have been in the middle of the pack with strangers. When I was trudging up my last 1/2 mile or so, 2 members of the team came back to get me (and our guide who was hanging with me). Then I heard "Hey Carolyn!" and looked up to see the rest of the team hanging over the guard rail near the trail head.

When I made it my last few steps, I was greeted with high fives and hugs. Someone later asked the team if they'd had a chance to look around the gift shops and stuff after the hike. They looked shocked "No, we had to go back and cheer on Carolyn as she finished. We're a team."

I confess, I got a little teary-eyed. And am doing it again as I write this.

More later....

Today's hike: Bright Angel Trail to Plateau Point and back. 12.2 miles (though we had to walk an extra half mile post-hike for our prickly pear margaritas, so that becomes 12.7 which rounds up to 13 miles :-) ); about 3,300 ft. of elevation gain, 9 lbs of water, and about 90 degrees.

First of all - THANK YOU to all of you have contributed to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society on behalf of my Grand Canyon adventure. It's so fun for me to read over the list of all of you who are supporting and encouraging me, from so many different places in my life - family, past work colleagues (from various companies), friends I've played music with...done genealogy with....went to school together....vacationed with...worshiped with...skied with...drank wine with.... Thank you!

I've been asked - "Is it too late to donate?" The answer is "Absolutely not!" LLS will continue to take donations, even for a couple weeks after the hike. And it's totally okay to keep contributing even though I've hit 100% of my goal. All that money goes directly to cancer research - a good thing!

While I'll be the first to admit that I took on this training and adventure more as a personal goal (turning 50, wanted to try something that I would never before have imagined taking on - a big physical challenge!). I will also say that some of the stories of people who have overcome cancer, especially blood cancers (which is what LLS is about), are really inspiring. One of these is our "honored teammate" Scott, who is a survivor of one of these blood cancers and has been out there hiking with us every week...until he takes off for his dream job of teaching for a year overseas.

On a practical note - 75% of donations to LLS from the hike go directly to cancer research. And actually, since I've opted to pay most of my own travel expenses, the ratio is probably higher for donations made here.

Thanks!

A couple of quick things. First, several of you have asked me what trail I'm hiking. I'll be hiking the Bright Angel trail out to Plateau Point (where we're supposed to get a fabulous view of the Colorado River) and then back out of the canyon. If you look at this map, and go to page 11 of the pdf file, you'll get an idea of our route.

(Note the warning "This is a very strenuous hike." Gulp.)

Also - several of you have asked me to hike in honor of someone who has had cancer. I'll be taking those names into the canyon with me. This isn't the best photo, but I've created an "In Honor Of" tag for each name that will be attached to my pack on a carabineer.

Unlike a few months ago when I started training, it's pretty easy to believe I'll soon be hiking the Grand Canyon. On the other hand, believing that I'll soon be someplace warm enough to hike in shorts and a t-shirt, to need a sun hat (rather than fleece) and sunscreen, is unbelievable. (Note that my space heater is on at my feet as I type this.)

We had our last training hike yesterday, plus a send-off party & pep talk with lots of warnings about coping with the heat (one thing we certainly didn't train for...remember all my photos of snow hikes?). Intellectually, I know it's true. But it's hard to feel really confident about packing t-shirts, shorts, and sandals. (No, not sandals for the trail...I've been trained better than that!)

Yesterday's hike was our "tapering off" hike. Hmm, I think our coaches have a different idea of "tapering off" than I do. It was 13 miles (slightly more than we've done before), but only about 2,000 ft. elevation gain. So I guess that was the tapering off part. I ended the hike tired, and I expect to end the Grand Canyon hike tired. But at this point, with all the training, I do feel confident about surviving. :-)

(Funny - we got the agenda for the event weekend. After the hike in the Grand Canyon, there's a "Victory Dinner" that includes bowling. Are they kidding? They think I'm going to have energy to bowl after that? On the other hand, I've gained a whole new appreciation for the post-hike restorative powers of beer, so maybe....)

New adventures yesterday - no snow (thank heavens!), no mud or rain, but we did get to ford a couple of creeks on the way to Jay Lake.

Funny - the last trail we were on is a pretty popular trail (Wallace Falls). I looked at a couple of girls on the trail in amazement - hiking in pink Ugg boots or glittery ballet-like flats seemed crazy to me. On the other hand, a woman dressed in what I would have considered okay hiking attire a few months ago (jeans and tennis shoes, carrying a water bottle) looked at me in amazement like she was thinking "Wow, does this woman think she's climbing Everest or what?" But I felt perfectly normal. (Well, tired, but normal other than that.)

(1) Jay Lake, our final destination; (2) Happy trails.... (3) Wildlife!

Our coaches took us to new heights...or depths...or both...of training on Saturday. The goal was Poo Poo Point, a ridge on Tiger Mountain where hang gliders fling themselves off into space. I'd heard the view from there was great, was hoping to see some hang gliders, and was anxious to hike it.

Well, I guess I got my wish. We hiked it not once, but twice on Saturday! We started from the High Point trailhead and hiked a pretty moderate 4 miles upward. Then, without even stopping to look at the view, we hiked a steep 2 miles down the other side. Pause (briefly). Then back up to the top (where we finally got to admire the view), then back down the 4 miles.

The first half (up and down) wasn't bad. I have to admit to slowing down quite a bit on the second half (up and down). On a positive note, there was almost no snow. On an even more positive note, this was a pretty good Grand Canyon simulation. Same distance - 12 miles. Same elevation gain - abt. 3,200 ft. Same 9 pounds of water in my backpack. Even got the experience of going down, then coming back up, just like in the Grand Canyon (usually our hikes are up, then down).

I was tired, but I did it. And a little beer and ibuprufen (not at the same time) made me feel good as new!

In other news - last weekend we didn't have a scheduled hike due to Easter weekend. But I did get out on the trail. I hiked up to Rattlesnake Ledge. Just 5 miles round trip and around 1,200 ft. of elevation gain. So I did it for speed (got to the ledge in just over 50 minutes) rather than height or endurance.

One of the best things about that hike - I had hiked, grocery shopped, and showered - and it wasn't even noon. Kinda nice to have more of my Saturday open.

Just one more training hike next Saturday...then a week of "paying our dues" (i.e. doing trail maintenance) and then I'm off to the Grand Canyon.

(1) For once - this was all the snow we saw on the trail! (2) View from Poo Poo Point (3) Babbling brook along the way

A year ago, my idea of a hike was a brisk walk around Green Lake. In fact, I was convinced I hated hiking. Even though I knew that Mt. Si was one of the most popular hiking destinations in the area, my eyes would slide past it as I drove I-90 to go skiing or to Eastern Washington. I wasn't even sure which mountain it was, and didn't much care. I knew I had no interest in trying to tromp up it.

What a difference a year makes.

Back in November, when I saw Mt. Si on the training schedule for April, I was doubtful. I mean, these coaches apparently had confidence we could do it, but I wasn't so sure. It was a big jump from anything I'd attempted so far.

Of course, as we've done harder hikes each week, it began to seem more possible. But it's hard to describe the feeling I had actually standing at the top of the darn thing yesterday. (And even though, once again, we couldn't see the view.) In a way, it feels like sort of a graduation, that I can legitimately call myself a hiker.

I was talking to a friend this morning, trying to explain why I'd taken up hiking in the first place. I realized that it was mostly about getting out of a rut - the rut of being unwilling to try something because I thought I didn't like it....or having a certain image of myself not really doing athletic outdoor things (other than skiing). Funny how a person creates stereotypes about themself. It makes me think more deeply about what other ruts in life I'm in that need changing.

But as for Mt. Si - I did it. (Big smile) And in just over 2.5 hours. The fastest people in our group did it in about 2 hours, which I think is a pretty typical speed for a strong hiker. But hey, I'm happy with getting to the top at a good pace for me and not being in pain the next day. (And since I'm probably the oldest person in our group who's not an ex-forest ranger, I'm not so concerned that I didn't make it to the top with the fastest group.)

Of course, I wasn't thrilled with slipping and sliding on the last steep quarter mile that was covered in snow. And as I hiked uphill, drenched in sweat, nose dripping, hair dripping with rain, I thought that I could perhaps have picked a more glamorous new skill to acquire...but realized this was part of getting out of the rut. I never would have thought before that being such a drippy mess could be fun.

Saturday's hike: 3,200 ft. of (often steep) elevation gain, 8 miles, carrying my 9 pounds of water

The top of Mt. Si - no view, but some nice snow scenes. And these are my witnesses that I really was there.

When I first bought my house, I went on a rampage of "I am woman homeowner, hear me roar!" I was determined I could learn to fix anything myself. After successfully fixing a leaky faucet (which involved about 3 trips to the hardware store to get different parts), I decided that while I was capable and could learn to fix most anything myself, I really didn't want to. Fixing plumbing was not fun or rewarding for me.

I discovered the same thing on Saturday about hiking in the snow. Yes, again we were hiking in the snow. No postholing this time, but that extra little slip with each step made it more work than it needed to be. I've decided that I'm a fair weather hiker...fair weather meaning no snow on the ground. I don't mind mud...I don't mind rain...I don't mind snow falling on me. I just don't like slogging through it.

I probably should have put on my micro-spikes, but no one else in the group seemed to think they were needed. (Embarrassing to admit at 50 that you're still succumbing to peer pressure.)

But hey, I climbed not one, not two, but three peaks on Saturday! Tiger Mountain #1, #2, and #3. Of course, once you've gotten to the top of #1, getting to #2 and #3 isn't that much more, but it was a very respectable elevation gain sort of day....as much as we'll do in the Grand Canyon.

But I did hit a milestone today - this hike was definitely harder than that fateful hike 25 years ago that turned me off hiking. Length was about the same, but Saturday's hike included 3,200 ft. of elevation gain and the nasty Lake Malakwa hike of my memory was only 2,200 ft. Woo hoo! I've conquered that old fear!

Saturday's hike: 9.5 miles, 3,200 ft. of elevation gain, carrying 4 liters (about 9 pounds) of water.

I won't bore you with photos of the view from the top. Once again, there wasn't one. But this is the hut at the top of Tiger #1 that we huddled in out of the wind. Felt a bit like being in Antarctica. And then we went trekking off through the snow.

The Energizer Bunny was my role model today...it takes a lickin' but keeps on tickin'. Oh wait. I'm mixing my metaphors, or at least my commerical product allusions.

Our trail today was steep - 2,000 feet of elevation gain in 2 miles. My goal was just to keep on at a steady pace, minimal stops to pant, and hopefully, not pant excessively. Of course, I did stop a bit more often as I reached the top. Still, there was none of that "Oh please, I want to lie down on the trail and die" feeling that I was often getting during the earlier hikes. I just tried to keep it even and steady and continuous...like the Energizer Bunny.

And while I'll never be in the "espresso" fast hiking group, I was very pleased with being solidly in the middle today. Especially after realizing that I'm one of the oldest hikers in what is a very fast group.

Neither snow nor mud nor sleet nor rain keeps us from our training hikes. Compared to some of our previous hikes, this trail was a dream. No snow or mud to slog through - woo hoo! But the sleet and gentle rain was a little disappointing considering the morning had looked clear and sunny starting out. Plus - when a person hikes upward 2,000 feet, it would be nice to see the spectacular view that is rumored to be at the top.

But as for hiking in all these weather conditions, well, my ancestors came from the acknowledged toughest weather conditions in the U.S. So I guess they would expect nothing less of me, hmm?

Today's hike: 6.5 miles, 2,000 ft. of elevation gain in 2 miles, carrying 4 liters of water (wow is that heavy)

View of the Olympics from the top of Mt. Walker - what we did see (nothing) and what we were supposed to be able to see

They say that "neither rain nor snow nor sleet" keep postmen from their appointed rounds, but snow and mud are sure making it hard for us hikers to do our planned training!

Yesterday we headed east of the mountains to Umtanum Ridge, just south of Ellensburg. No snow to contend with; instead we hit mud. Not just ordinary mud, but really slick, mucky stuff. At the point where we had 3 separate people frozen in place, unable to take a step without sliding even when bracing themselves with trekking poles, the coaches called a halt to the hike and we headed back.

The interesting thing about it was that a couple of the people having the most trouble had happily plunged through the snow for the last few hikes with no problem at all. On the other hand, I, who had been more than relieved at cutting short a couple of the snowy hikes, was very disappointed not to get to continue in the mud.

Sure, I was sliding a bit. But between applying trekking poles and strategically using some downhill ski moves (side stepping as necessary, or going for a wedge-like position when my feet slid in a downhill position), I was doing okay.

Of course, I slipped in the mud, too (got distracted as a small group of us sang and tried to remember the words to "The ants go marching one by one, Hurrah! Hurrah!"). But at that point I was so wet and my boots were already so mucky, that it didn't seem to matter. In fact, it was all sort of fun.

When we'd finally escaped the mucky hill, we did put in a couple miles on the flat alongside the river. But the hike ended early and we really didn't get the elevation gain for the week that was intended. The silver lining, though, was that gave me time to join the group for happy hour/lunch AND stop in Cle Elum at the meat market to pick up some fabulous Owen Meats beef jerky and still make it back to Seattle in time for dinner with friends.

Today's hike: about 6 miles, maybe 1,000 ft. of elevation, carrying 3.5 lters of water

Nothing like a coating of mud on the shoes! See more photos

I thought some of the random thoughts that go through my head while hiking might amuse you:

• A dentist and the sweep coach (who brings up the end) on the uphill portion of a hike have a lot in common - they keep up a continuous string of conversation that the patient or participant hiker replies to only with grunts.
• Backpack water bladders with a tube so you can drink water on the go are specifically designed for hiking - but really, you can't swallow without holding your breath, and you can't hike while holding your breath. So the reality is, you can rarely actually take a drink from the tube unless you stop anyway.
• Because we do progressively harder hikes, each week feels just as hard as the week before. You never get to coast and think "Wow, this is easy." Of course, if I compare today's hike to my first hike in November, I know I've made progress. But it's hard to focus on that while you're huffing and puffing up hill.
• Ironic to train in snow for the Grand Canyon. Ironic that as spring comes, you think you should be hiking in less snow. At the same time, our hikes are gaining in elevation so we keep running into snow. Will it be July before a hike feels like spring?

Not only good, but really sort of an exciting hiking day! We "re-did" the Wallace Falls hike that we couldn't complete because of snow three weeks ago. The first part - up to the upper falls - went way quicker and was much less painful than I remember it. We did a scramble up to an old railroad bed, then hiked to Wallace Lake - beautiful! (And were never deeper than about 5-6 inches of snow - joy!)

It's a beautiful hike, but most important is that even the elevation gain didn't feel too painful. Strenuous, yes. But not painful. I LOVE that.

This is the longest hike I've ever done (11 miles), close to the most elevation gain (2,000 ft. this week; the 2,200 ft. gain last week is the highest I've done), and I was carrying 3 liters of water (to prep for the Grand Canyon...I think I need a massage!).

Wallace Lake

Woo hoo! Yesterday's hike was so much better than the previous week. Even though we still hit snow, it was only for half the hike. (Amazing what a difference that can make.) And either I'm getting the snow hiking technique down better or this was more solidly packed, but I wasn't "postholing" (breaking through into deep snow) nearly as often. Although the time I broke through and was in snow to the upper part of my thigh, well, it was a bit of a challenge to climb out.

As you could tell from my last post, I was miserable last week. That apparently was obvious. Yesterday one of the coaches tentatively said to me, "I'm a little surprised to see you back today." Ah, but she apparently does not understand the true depth of German stubbornness.

We hiked 8 miles....5 hours....a 2,200 ft. elevation gain (the most I've ever done) and half of it in the snow.

You know, I'm beginning to believe maybe I CAN do this Grand Canyon thing!

Ignore my previous blog post about the joy of hiking in the snow. I discovered last Saturday that there’s a big difference between hiking in packed-down light snow (my previous experience) and hiking in slippery, wet, not-packed-down snow.

The first is a magical walk through a winter wonderland. The latter is a slog as you slip (even with microspikes on your boots), plunge into calf-deep holes, and have melting snow drip off the trees overhead. It was the constant plunging into the snow that got me down. Not only is it a lot of work, but half the time I was twisting my recently healed knee. I thought this would be the first hike that it didn't hurt at all - wrong.

I knew I wouldn't last 10 miles in this (the original planned hike). But the German stubbornness was kicking in. I didn't want to be the one to give up. I kept telling myself (to paraphrase Tom Hanks in "A League of Their Own") "There's no crying in hiking." So I kept slogging through, even though it was absolutely miserable.

The guy with the snowshoes was the smartest. Hiking boots were not the right footgear for these conditions. It wasn't exactly a downhill skiing trail either, but I would have done a lot better on my skis.

And then there were the "wardrobe malfunctions." That is - the microspike that caught on the shoelace hook of the opposite boot. Yes, you can visualize it. Carolyn flat out in the snow.

Saturday was NOT a fun time. My only consolation is that I'm unlikely to be hiking in calf-deep snow in May in the Grand Canyon. Let's pray that it melts from our training hikes, too.

Saturday's hike: Snoqualmie to Grand Prospect, but we didn't make it all the way. And no, I wasn't the one to give up. 6 miles (but I think slogging through snow counts as double), elevation guesstimate about 1,500 ft.

...to hiking in the snow!

Of course, I didn't think that this morning. The flannel sheets were warm. My body was stiff and didn't want to roll out of bed (I finally got back to the gym this week after the knee injury...ow...). My car told me it was 24 degrees outside. It seemed more like skiing weather than hiking weather.

We even had to "chain up." (Our hiking boots, not the car tires.) And so we set off up the hill, shivering, spikes on our feet. I was NOT looking forward to this.

And then discovered that I loved it. Hiking through the woods is usually nice and scenic. But hiking through quiet snow-covered woods, along a river, with little flakes drifting down all around us, toward ice-encased waterfalls, is breathtaking and beautiful.

There was a Narnia-esque quality to it, too. Lucy in the woods on her way to have tea with Mr. Tumnus, the faun. Though I don't think Lucy carried a backpack or wore spikes on her feet.

If anyone told me a year ago that I would voluntarily go hiking in the snow, I would have told them they were crazy. But I loved it. I would go again in a heartbeat.

Note: The irony of training in the snow (which is cold) for hiking the Grand Canyon (which is likely to be hot) has not been lost on me.

Today's hike: Wallace Falls, 6 miles, 1,200 ft. or so elevation gain. (It was supposed to be 10 miles, but we cut back because of the snow. The coach said we did "most" of our planned 1,700 ft. elevation gain, but the trail guide says Wallace Falls is 1200 ft., so I guess I'll go with that.)

Don't you love the spikes?

See more photos

I ventured back out onto the trail today - 2 1/2 weeks post-knee-tweak. (I like "tweak" better than "anonymous injury to a knee ligament.") Although I could feel the effects of not having worked out for the last couple of weeks (because of the knee, not just laziness), the knee itself didn't bother me.

Still, I was really glad to have invested in my new trekking poles. (Thank you, Jackie, for advice on picking them out!) I think those saved the knee a lot of work. They became my new best friends today. (Though I'm not at all opposed to diamonds being a girl's best friend, but somehow I think diamonds would have been less useful out in the woods.)

But even though I was slow, it was nice that an 1,800 ft. elevation gain wasn't a particularly big deal. Just something to slog through. Not painful, just work. So I guess the training is paying off.

Hiking Cougar Mountain has an odd "aimlessly wandering around in the woods" feel to it. There doesn't seem to be a particular goal. We did hike to a summit today - Wilderness Peak. But all that's there is a bench. Then we hiked to a very small waterfall, really more of a trickle. Then we hiked to a lookout point where there wasn't much to look out at. But I guess it's all in the name of training...we'll get our views on other hikes. And, of course, in the Grand Canyon.

Today's hike: Roaming Cougar Mtn., 7 miles, 1,800 ft. elevation gain

Today's Saturday, so I should be reporting on today's hiking training adventure. But alas, I tweaked my knee 10 days ago in a small ski accident. So I've grounded myself from hiking for the last two Saturdays.

At first, not having the hiking commitment on Saturday or the skiing commitment on Wednesday was sort of glorious. I was able to take care of some essential "life maintenance" tasks. Like buying toilet paper...I was down to my last roll. Working all week, skiing, Saturdays for hiking, it's been hard to do anything other than the basics...finding time to buy toilet paper seems like a real luxury.

But after two Saturdays off, I'm starting to feel the pressure of getting back into it. I have a canyon to hike, after all. I can't just be sitting around here. I need to keep adding mileage and elevation gain!

I knew the knee/leg wouldn't be up for our team hike today, but my hiking buddy said she might be willing to go on a wimpy hike with me tomorrow. We'll see if that still seems wise.

I'd appreciate your good thoughts and prayers for healing...and that this interruption doesn't make the ongoing training harder.

That's what goes through my mind for at least the first 1/2 hour of every Saturday morning hike. Not coincidentally, the first 1/2 hour of every Saturday morning hike is uphill. The steeper the grade, the more fervently this goes through my mind.

I think I'm learning to pace myself a bit better. I actually felt better after this week's hike (more elevation gain) than I did after last Saturday's hike, but the Grand Canyon goal (see yesterday's post) still seems a bit intimidating.

A valuable hiking tip we learned this weekend. When reaching a fork in the trail, always turn around and look back at how the fork will look when you're coming back downhill. This helps you not get lost, since sometimes uphill vs. downhill looks very different, even on the same stretch of trail.

Funny, this is something I've always done instinctively in strange parking garages. I did it just today trying to find my way out of Bellevue's Lincoln Square garage. I think I was more at risk getting lost in Lincoln Square tonight than I was yesterday on Mt. Si. Ah, love when these urban skills have an application in the great outdoors.

This weekend's hike: Talus Loop + on Mt. Si, 4.2 miles, about 2,000 ft. elevation gain

(Elevation gain is a guess since we did the Talus Loop plus a couple of the Mt. Si switchbacks, so we did more elevation than the guidebook says.)

Here's a photo of our hiking team, on the Mt. Si trail on January 23

I found out today that the goal is a 12 mile hike with about 4,000 feet of elevation gain carrying 4 liters (about 10 pounds) of water. Hmm.

There are several Grand Canyon hikes our group can choose from, but this is the one a previous participant was recommending as the most scenic...and with water along the trail. And he said "Oh and after all our training, you'll be able to handle it no problem."

Scenic is good (why else go to the Grand Canyon?). Water is good (since dehydration is bad). But 4,000 feet? And the climbing is all at the end of the hike?

But then, as Scott, our "honored patient/team member" said "If it weren't hard, it wouldn't be very effective for fundraising."

Or as I'm thinking "If it weren't hard, I suppose it wouldn't be much of a first-year-of-my-50s goal to achieve."

Gulp.

P.S. All of you who have mentioned donkeys or boats in the Grand Canyon, think again. My trip is hiking in...and hiking out. All under my own power. No donkeys. No boats. No escalators.

Me at the top of Little Si and some of the rest of the group

I learned today I need to pace myself. Started out at the front of the pack. Stayed there for 80-90% of the way to the top. And then I just couldn't keep up the pace and dropped back. But again, our coach says this is one of the fastest groups he's ever coached. So I guess I can live with even being near the back of the group. The stubborn German in me doesn't like it. But I can't kick myself too hard.

I can't decide if I admire, or hate, the people who can chug up the hill and keep a steady stream of conversation going the whole time. When it's interesting conversation, I move toward admire. When it's babbling, random conversation, my mood meter swings the other direction. At least when hiking with babblers, you don't need to reply and can save your breath for climbing.

Took a more steady pace on the way down. And had an interesting conversation - topics ranged from Star Trek to James Bond to Pierce Brosnan to the impact of WWI on the current unrest in the Middle East. Our part of the group was so involved in comparing the various Star Trek series, we wandered off the trail in the wrong direction...where no one has gone before. Oh well, we didn't get lost in the wilderness of either the Delta Quadrant or the woods around North Bend. So all is well. By the way - I highly recommend the Bloody Marys at the North Bend Bar & Grill.

Today's hike: Little Si, 5 miles, 1,250 elevation gain

Okay, if I'm really going to do this Grand Canyon thing, it's time to get serious. I missed several of the December hikes, but I'm starting the new year strong.

Today was our get-back-in-shape-after-the-holidays hike on Cougar Mountain. Next I think we move on to medium difficulty hikes. My personal goal is not to spend too much time at the back of the pack. That brings back traumatic memories of being chosen last in P.E. in grade school.

So far, so good. On the flat and moderate inclines, I'm solidly in the middle. I confess to drifting toward the back on the steeper inclines. But I'm consoled by the fact that this seems to be a pretty fast hiking group (even the coaches say so). We finished today's 3- hour hike in under 2 hours. Rather than letting us bask in our success, the coach extended both mileage and elevation gain. This made me very aware that I did not work out over the holidays. Hmmmm....

Today's hike: about 6.5 miles and about 1,800 ft. elevation gain. Our reward was this waterfall.

In 2010 I conquered a long-held fear...or at least, an active dislike. In my 20s, a friend took me on a too-hard hike (that I now see rated in hiking guides as "strenuous" - no kidding!). I couldn't walk for a week afterwards and decided that hiking was not something I ever needed to try again, that it was painful and unrewarding. BUT-a combination of great pics on Facebook from friends who hike, a friend who wanted to get back into hiking, and an interest in finding a reason to stay in shape year-round (not just in winter for skiing) led me to try hiking again.

And I liked it. I'm amazed to be saying this. But the views and landscapes (part of what I love about skiing), the sense of exploration, and the challenge of hiking increasingly harder trails have gotten me hooked.

So when one of my friends handed me a flyer on this Grand Canyon during a celebration for my 50th birthday, this seemed like a great challenge to take on in my 50th year. A new place to explore (I've never been to the Grand Canyon), great landscapes to see, and a great challenge of more difficult terrain to hike.

Plus - I seem to have a lot of friends and colleagues hit by cancer over the last couple of years. So doing something to raise funds to research cures for cancer is definitely worth doing!

Racing to Save Lives

Welcome to my Team In Training home page.

I'm training to participate in an endurance event as a member of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's (LLS) Team In Training. All of us on Team In Training are raising funds to help stop leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin lymphoma and myeloma from taking more lives. I am completing this event in honor of all individuals who are battling blood cancers. These people are the real heroes on our team, and we need your support to cross the ultimate finish line - a cure!

Please make a donation to support my participation in Team In Training and help advance LLS's mission.

I hope you will visit my web site often. Be sure to check back frequently to see my progress. Thanks for your support!