Sunday, August 4, 2013

Lake Powell Open Water Swimming


We are back from a week on the ultimate open-water long course – Lake Powell. What an outstanding week!  I swam pretty much every day but my longest swim was 1.25 miles around a kidney shaped course with no walls or contact with anything other than the back of the boat and water!

Lake Powell backs up behind the Glen Canyon dam and is supplied by the Colorado and San Juan Rivers.  The main channel is marked by floating buoys.  Each buoy has the number of miles to the dam painted on it.  We parked the Royal Flush, our 70’ houseboat, around buoy 110. 

Surface water temperature in the lake is complicated but varied between 78 and 85 degrees.  After a couple of windless days the surface temp will reach 85 in places.  The water below the surface is much cooler and when the wind blows and churns the water the very top dropped to near 80.  The water at your fingertips while swimming might be about 78.  When the wind hasn’t blown for a day the water will warm up to 82 and in the small side canyons where the wind doesn’t reach and the heat reflects off the nearby canyon walls the water can warm up to a blistering 85 in places.  If the sun is up the air is hot at Lake Powell.  I was a little worried about overheating when then water temps crept up but the wind is a regular event there so the worry was short lived.

A view across the lake at sunrise on a still morning.  The other side is probably a mile away and the cliff is hundreds of feet tall.
 
We parked the Royal Flush in a small bay off the main channel.   There were additional small bays on either side of our bay.  My long swim started in our bay, over to and around the bay to our north back across the mouth or our bay, over to and around the bay to our south and back to our bay. The main channel could get busy with boat traffic and waves they generated but our group of bays were small and saw no traffic other than our boats and the neighbor’s boat and paddle board. 

The water is deep at Lake Powell and gradual beaches are scarce.  It is not a place to learn to swim.  The depth off the back of our boat was 40’.  The depth of the main channel was beyond our fish finders’ range of 450’.  In most places the bank is a steep cliff or difficult-to-climb rocks so it can be hard to find a resting spot.

The walls of Lake Powell are magnificent.  I think the coolest part of swimming in Lake Powell are the views.  Imagine sight swimming on a 400’ cliff or swimming under an overhanging ledge with water dripping out of the overhang.  Or swimming by cliffs some of the rest of your group is cliff diving from.

This is part of our cove.  The boat is docked to the right just out of view.
 
One day I swam intervals.   1/10 mile easy swim to a rock on the other side of the bay and then a hard swim back.  The swims back were extra hard because it was into a strong wind.  It was kind of fun to body surf through the waves.  It was surprisingly easy to come up for air but I did have a few misses.

This was the course for my interval swim. At the bottom of the frame is the railing on the top deck of the boat.  The "small" rock at the water line was the other end of my course.  The rock is 1/10 of a mile away from the boat.
 
I swam with one of the Club’s open water floaters.  It was pretty handy and gave my wife peace of mind.  It is bright orange and easier for a boat to spot than a plain swimmer.  It is half dry bag and half buoy. It has a strap you fasten around your waist and a short lead from the waist strap to the floater. I put my GPS, shirt, hat, shoes, camera, and/or water bottle in the dry bag side, inflated the other side and strapped it around my waist.  It was a very light drag when swimming into the wind.  When the rest of the group boated over for cliff diving I put shoes, shirt, and camera in the bag and swam over.   On a long swim or interval swim I would take water and the GPS.  It can also be used as a floater if you need a rest and there is no purchase on the side of the lake.

On a swim with the open water floater
 
I tried my GPS, a Garmin Forerunner 310XT, on my wrist at East Park pool before the trip and was disappointed with the results.  Apparently you need the next model to accurately track swimming from your wrist.  It worked perfectly in the dry bag although the time is a little bit off because you have to start it, and then seal it up and vice versa at the end of the swim.

Fish, weeds and other beings of the wild water were not an issue.  The fish don’t like all the noise a swimmer makes.  One of our group was hanging out on a floater had a fish bite her hard enough to leave a bruise.  Weeds are not an issue either.  Most of the banks are too steep for vegetation, there is very little dirt, and the water level drops as much as 4” per day after the runoff.

I hope you all get a chance to visit and swim in Lake Powell. It is an awesome swimming pool (and a good fishing hole as well).

A crack in the wall we explored

Inside the crack


 

 

Saturday, August 3, 2013

This is Frank Cherne's One Run for Boston Experience.
 
On April 15, 2013, I was monitoring closely albeit remotely in New Mexico the progress of two of my friends who were running in the Boston Marathon.  The younger of the two, Joni I grew up with running as part of our grade school physical education program.  My other friend and former minister, Gary, I ran with during my first marathon in 2005 in Tuscon.  In a way I was running Boston marathon with them, this was as close as I was going to get considering my average running speeds would probably never get me a qualified berth for running Boston Marathon myself.

Then news of the blast filtered through the hallway at work and I sat there stunned and pulled up the athlete tracker for each of my friends.  Joni had crossed the finishline and from my best estimation Gary was near the blast zone.  My heart ached for knowledge of where he was at so Facebook was where I turned to.  Turned out he was 10 minutes from the finish line and he was stopped from finishing. 

 

With this background, I saw a posting somewhere on Facebook the opportunity to run in this epic relay the One Run for Boston.  I saw that the relay would take its journey through New Mexico not far from where I lived.  I then studied the map for each relay exchange very carefully and saw that the closest stages would be running through the night and were filling up fast.  Thanks to Hilary Lorenz and her crew of Santa Fe Striders. My procrastination in joining the cause meant I was going to have to travel a little further. The sacrifice was well worth it for the cause. The next closest stage available on a Friday, which I already had off, was Stage #93, all downhill by my estimation so I joined the stage and convinced the club president of the Triatomics Multisport to join me.  It was settled this was how I was going to participate in this epic cross-country relay. 

 

The relay started, my web browser was open to the One Run tracking page and occasionally the Facebook group capturing the progress through California and Arizona.  In studying the stages and seeing the relay was underway, on the 8th or 9th, I began to get nervous that the New Mexico stages were not going to be filled.  So in a plea on Facebook, I asked if anyone could help by signing up for the three remaining slots. Danny and Kate signed up for the longest stage left of 16 miles.  Then a Facebook friend request came from Will Allender and there we dialoged a bit about knowing that neither one of us felt that we would have the strength to perform a stage on Thursday and then the stage we originally signed up for.  There we made a pact to share in the burden for the remaining two stages. He had selected stage #76 and had Ronny Parks participating with him and I would do Stage #81 with his help.  I still needed to ask for the day off, if refused a sick leave day was going to happen for my mental health.  I could rest knowing that all of the New Mexico stages were covered.  Will and I exchanged numbers and there I not so patiently awaited okay I became glued to Facebook as much as I thought my work could tolerate.  So now I was signed up for two stages of the One Run for Boston, Stages #81 and #93.  The baton was on way to the way to the Land of Enchantment.  Tension mounted as to where the baton was in the poor cell phone coverage locations in Arizona and New Mexico and with my granted time off from work, I began studying the map.  Could it be that the start of Stage #93, Palo Flechado Pass would be the highest point of the relay? After studying the maps yes it was.  How great was it that I was given the chance to begin the “all downhill” from here to Boston.

 

After signing up, then I turned to a self-assessment of my body, my training had been very sporadic would I be able to run the equivalent of two half marathons within 24 hours of each other.  My weight had crept up as a result of spending many days on the road.  So I knew that it would be tough to maintain a 10 minute mile pace and not suffer a small amount of pain. Although, I knew deep down this pain and suffering was nothing compared to those who experienced the direct effects of the bombing in Boston.

The weather forecast for the Thursday was in the upper 90s with no relief in the forecast until late afternoon Friday.  With the uncertainty of the location of the Miles the now named baton, Thursday I set out very early for the little town of Cuba, NM mentally preparing to meet my new Facebook friend Will Allender. I texted Will while I was waiting for the road crew to let me pass.  His response was we are about 13 miles out of Cuba.  There went my plan of getting in a bike ride.  So I decided to make my way straight to where Danny and Kate were.  There I would join the caravan to Cuba and figure out the logistics later. 
 
Driving down the route, I spotted Danny receiving Miles and crossing the road dressed in the One Run t-shirt and his famous girlie Wal-mart special red shorts.  His skin was flushed.  After getting a shot of Danny passing, I introduced myself to Kate, Will, and Steve Bender. Sizing up this motley crew, I could see some of the warning signs of dehydration yet in spite of this plight each had a joy about them.  To make it through the hot high altitude desert they had chosen to do one-mile intervals.  Knowing that I had fresh legs, was used to the higher elevations, and fully hydrated I decided to jump right in with their intervals.  The baton “Miles” was handed to me and I felt inspired to show these heat-exhausted people what I was made of.  So I charged the first quarter mile at a sub-8 min/mile pace which is fast for me.  My heart raced and the effects of the lingering smoke from the Thomson Ridge forest fire of New Mexico hit me. So between the heat and lingering smoke, I began to wheeze almost uncontrollably, I was having an exercise induced asthma attack.  Slowing the pace and catching my breath reduced my heart rate where I could manage the remaining distance to the crew.  In spite of this asthma attack, this first mile run made me feel alive.   Running for the cause, running with people who cared about strangers, all of this brought back a child like joy to myself.

The next 4.5 hours spent handing off Miles Le Baton, flew by so fast and the smoke cloud of despair that had been lingering around me was totally lifted.  “Why the despair,” you may ask.  Eight months prior my life spiraled out of control when I found evidence that my wife the woman I loved deeply was cheating on me.  At the end of December, she packed her bags and moved to Bakersfield, CA.  The warmth and caring that was now surrounding me filled the love vacuum of my heart. It was a totally unexpected outcome of hanging out with Kate, Danny, Will, and Steve.

Handing off the baton to Marisa and Hilary Lorenz, ended Stage #81. Kate and Danny had some business to attend to and Hilary had opened her home to them.  Having directions to Hilary’s house coming from the opposite direction I was going, I served as a guide. Some of the roads I was travelling I was aware of but had never travelled before.  The red rock canyons, which had been cleansed and cooled by the thunderstorm that had passed through the area minutes if not hours before, served as an allegory that was taking place in my life. 

At Hilary’s place, I lingered around Danny and Kate long enough to volunteer to drive into Santa Fe to pick up the magnetic signs from the filtered water company that sponsored the One Run for I’d see Danny and Kate the next day for I had another stage to run.  Driving back to my home, I realized I was whole once again.

On Friday, the day of Stage #93, I picked up Bill Dunn my companion for the day and drove to the highest point in the relay, Palo Flechado pass.  Knowing Bill was eager to run and that he had to get in a bit of a hill workout, I dropped him off at the last steep climb before the pass to run with Phil Blong who we had just past on the route.  At the top of the pass, Danny and Kate were busy tearing apart the car looking for the source of the smell that was filling their vehicle. Scotty Gallant, Stage #94 arrived to see the baton transfer and provide emotional support with his support crew.  The family circle of selfless people was expanding.    

 
The downhill stage was a great choice aside from the fact that my quads were not prepared.  My friend Bill Dunn talked the whole way telling me about his fishing expeditions and his desire to be ahead of some of the local guys in his age group. We even discussed making plans for our next adventure. 

Handing off Miles Le Baton to Scotty was easy for the satisfied exhaustion had set in.  While stood talking with Danny and Kate, Scotty’s wife handed a 20 to Bill and I for post run refreshments. A local store owner’s husband found out what we were doing and brought out an Eagle Nest skull cap for all who remained.  Then Danny and Kate exchanged hugs with us, my commitment to the One Run for Boston was over, so I thought. 

While Bill, Nicole (Bill’s wife), and I ate our recovery meal in Eagle Nest, Bill reflected on the day and the people we had met.  Bill was concerned over what was sustaining Danny and Kate. So the birth of the idea to have something delivered to them somewhere between New Mexico and Oklahoma.  Bill studied the route found an appropriate time and phoned in an order for pizza in the middle of nowhere.

A few days later, I thought how much would it take for me to get to Boston and run the final stage(s). Looking at my frequent flyer miles, I thought perhaps not much. I put in the route from Albuquerque to Boston and my 39891 miles were 109 miles shy of the required number.  So how much would it take to buy a few more miles? $70 for 2000 more. Is it worth it?  I resolved that I would have to put out thoughts of going to Boston and just donate the money the miles would cost.  A week past and watching via Facebook the progress of Kate, Danny, and Miles, I longed to make the sacrifice and run in Boston. So I checked the flight schedule and mileage requirements once again—32500 miles, I could be there at the finish.  So I suggested that I could come out to Boston probing for information.  In a matter of hours, I had three or four offers to stay with them.  After doing a small amount of cyber-stalking, I accepted the first offer given, Magen Dodge for she not only offered a place to stay was willing to provide logistical support so I didn’t have to freak out about being in a strange city not knowing where to park and how to get around.

As I now had a place to stay, I could proceed to get the plane ticket. While I was going through the process of getting the ticket, Magen’s enthusiasm for the cause she was supporting flowed out of her fingers in the form of text messages coming my direction.  So with this piece of distraction combined by the thought I had answered every question to purchase the tickets.  I proceeded with possibly two Facebook message windows going at the same time.  In one of the conversations, or perhaps on the One Run for Boston Facebook page, a dialog ensued encouraging me to participate in the three.  I knew I could do the last two stages at the 10 min/mile pace yet three I knew would be pushing it.  The rational that caused me to cave to Robin Hubley-O’donnell’s suggestion to do the final three stages came when I thought of the people who were involved in the bombing.  My suffering on the last 20 miles would be nothing compared to their suffering. Now I was signed up for Stages 317-319.  All the while I was waiting for the airline’s confirmation of my airline tickets in my e-mail box.  So in the early morning, I opened the airline website and proceeded to go through the process I had done the night before, the mileage requirement had gone back up.  Guess I was not going.  Then the airline website started acting funny not replying to my inputs while I was looking for different travel dates. A few mouse clicks later it started acting more normally and now the flight options for 32500 had changed for the better. I now would have time to prepare for my trip to Seattle on the 3rd of July plus my travel times would not be as long. So many details were falling into place. Only one thing remained, ask for July 1st off from work.  So that afternoon permission for time off was asked for.  My team leader being out of town did not respond with the okay necessary.  So I talked with my deputy group leader and she said okay.  It helped that her husband came ran Boston in 2012.

Magen meanwhile was planning the party for me her out of town guest, which soon became her out of town guests, namely, Scott Allender and Steve Bender.  One of the plans included going to a barbeque with her good friends which changed to making a reservation for a party of 15 One Run for Boston participants.  She arranged to pick me up from the airport.  Justin O’connell was going to meet me there as well. Magen was quite a busy woman that week.  The warmth and welcoming by her and other Bostonian’s I was meeting online was quickly eroding all my previously formed prejudices toward the north east.

On June 29th, I arrived in Boston to be greeted by Justin who gave me a hug.  He made me feel like I was a rock star when all I was a runner who cared about the people whos lives had been changed by a senseless act of violence. Magen arrived at the curbside and she was as hospitable in person as she was on my computer screen and in my phone. Apologizing for the smell of wine in the car. A bottle of red wine had broken in her trunk permeating the entire car with its scent.  I threw in my laptop and my bags into the trunk and we drove off to the sports bar to begin the One Run pre-run meeting.

Before we get into the happenings of that Saturday evening, I have a confession to make. I am normally fairly cautious in groups of people sometimes feel socially awkward.  People began filtering in for this meeting, wish I could tell you the order, but their names were Elizabeth and Joe Dias; Magen Dodge; Skip Mann; Emily Matthews and her two sons Axel and Zeke; Elizabeth Miner; Justin O’connell; Sara Sanchez; Alex J. Silberman; Suzanne Webster; and myself.  The four hours we spent talking, eating, drinking, and getting acquainted flew by quickly.  Skip and I were the veterans who had met Kate and Danny, so we both shared our experiences plus the full feeling we had taking part in this small epic journey of runners across the country. Never once did I feel that social awkwardness that often arises in situations like these.  There I learned Sara had family in the Espanola valley, which is less than 20 miles away from my house. A moment after we took the group photos, it was amusing to watch Skip responding to all the new Facebook friend requests.  The uniqueness of this meet and greet experience was that there was no pressure to impress the people by our income, our employment, our successes in life, we were there for the express purpose of showing our support for the Boston bombing victims. We were a small part of a bigger epic journey across the United States.

June 30th, the run was running late but the atmosphere was one of excitement, joy, and support.  On this day Steve Bender and Scott Allender arrived around noon at Magen’s house.  With the delay “Momma” Magen taking care of her boys, Justin, Steve Bender, Scott Allender, and myself found a place to eat in Framingham where Steve and I would begin our run.  There I met many other people and I listened to the stories about their experience with the bombing.  The most memorable story emanated from Lynda Cowin Nijensohn, where she told of how her dad an orthopedic surgeon worked on many of the victims.  Getting these first hand experiences relayed to me made the trip more than worthwhile. 

The buzz of excitement exploded when the small gathering got first site of Miles Le Baton approached the small gathering of runners getting acquainted with their family.  Danny arrived in the pack sweating profusely but a quick hug was in order for besides him only Steve did I know longer than a week.  Miles handed off and we were off.  The pace being set was going to hurt me big time.  So I settled into my own rhythm.  Lynda knowing the area asked that we not get too far away.  So Elizabeth Dias and I stayed close to Lynda as we proceeded into Wellesley.  Lynda was only running to Wellesley so here Elizabeth and I were alone.  No we weren’t Justin was jumping out of his mom’s car to give us encouragement and directions.  Justin upon feeling confident that we knew where we were going, hops back into the car, and proceeds to ride on up ahead.  Elizabeth and I stayed together.  Elizabeth began to be fearful of missing out on the experience so we called to her husband Joe to head back and retrieve us.   He was Elizabeth’s night in shining armor and he drove us to along the course. There we saw Magen running with the yellow grass skirt Mia had given her.  The trio ran together up heart brake hill the fatigue was setting in.  My stomach began to cramp because of the food I had eaten earlier. So I tried to walk it off.  Magen and Elizabeth proceed on ahead of me while I tried to solve this gastrointenstial distress. Things had solved themselves when at least three ladies directed me down Massechusets Avenue. One of the ladies and I struck up a conversation and I found out her husband was one of the bombing victims I had come out to show my solidarity for.  How does a sensitive man hold back his emotion during a story like that? My silence was out of respect but also attempting to regain a sense of composure.  She carried a “Miles” across the finish line on Boylston Street. 

At the party in the Rattlesnake bar, I got to meet more new running friends, Cheryl Greeson where I was given a copy of the Boston Globe and a Boston Strong Duck (since named Miley B-Stong Ducklove after Miles Le Baton).  Seeing my friend Will Allender once again.  “Momma” Magen took her three boys, Steve, Scott, and myself to her place.  By the time each of us had bathed the sun was rising.  None of us had slept yet and having an early morning flight. Magen took me to the airport.  In my exhaustion the boarding call for my flight almost wasn’t heard.  Upon boarding the airplane, I sat down next to a lady heading back to Sacramento. In spite of my tiredness, I shared with her about my joyous experience.  She understood for she was a marathon runner and wish she had known about it so she could have participated too.

Since my first run with Danny, Kate, Steve, and Will, my life has been transformed in such a way that I still can’t stop talking about it.  The transformation I’ve seen in myself is I am reconnecting with my fellow human beings instead of being a recluse.  There was a rediscovering of the positive benefits of hugs. I became a Patriot’s and Boston Red Sox fan (please don’t tell my biological family this who are die hard San Francisco Giants and 49er’s fans).  I find myself sharing my experience with One Run with every person I can.  On average, I have talked about the experience with at least 4 people per week.  It is like I have become a One Run For Boston evangelist, in fact my experience will be woven into a sermon to be given in the future.  The following quote sums up my experience:

"Love is a force more formidable than any other. It is invisible; it cannot be seen or measured, yet it is powerful enough to transform you in a moment, and offer you more joy than any material possession could.” ~Barbara de Angelis