POWDER Trips: A Rant

Been running into a lot of powder lately. Makes me want to cough, gag, hack. Go out for some fresh air.

Seems like everywhere lately, I get powdered.

I'm not a skier even though I live in Colorado and I'm not talking about the lightweight white stuff that falls from the sky four months out of the year. Nope.

I'm talking about some arrogant pasty bastards.

Pompous Old White Dudes Explaining Righteously. The mansplainers.

What the hell is it about men now in their 60s and older who seem to think they have a special mission to keep the world on track, working like it always has, in their favor, and when someone bends the rules and does something different, they can't deal with it? Especially if that someone happens to be a woman.

Look here dudes, if you happen to be white and reading this, and thinking, "That B****, how dare she lump me into a category with a bunch of fuddy duddies and dinosaurs? I don't think like that!"

Maybe you don't, but you probably unconsciously, deep down, have adopted or inherited some vestiges of white male privilege so just be aware. You can handle it. Breathe. Now read on...

When I was in graduate school, back in the last century, ancient times, I can remember how it felt, being a woman in a doctoral program in science, and having no role models or mentors of my own gender. I wasn't the only female grad student in my program, but at the time there were absolutely ZERO women on the faculty in my department. In fact, they hired the very first female tenure-track faculty member the year I graduated.

When I brought my ideas to several faculty members to try to get my graduate committee together, I was told by the other female students definitely not to go to the one dude who was known as a pervert and had been known to have multiple affairs with students over the years. Which I later found out was true one day, when was out on a run and I caught him hiking down the trail, holding hands with one of the undergrad students in the department!! EEK!

But the one statement that sticks with me all these years later was the fairly young at the time (40ish) professor who told me point blank, "Your ideas have no place in our discipline."

F*** You very much, sir, so glad your pompous arrogant ideas have no place in the modern world and that people have evolved over the last 27 years since you said that to me, to accept those ideas as second nature.

That was in the late 80s, the very end of the heyday of complete and total male dominion over natural resources in academia.

In my graduate program I had all men on my committee, I managed to find four of them who didn't cling quite as tightly to the ideas of dominionistic types. Not that I still didn't struggle with sexism in many blatant and subtle ways. But I managed to get out of there with a Ph.D. and I'm still moving forward.

Bizarre ideas and all. Such bizarre ideas I have, along with others of my ilk. Let's look at some of them...

In graduate school, that physiology and social psychology might actually have anything in common that was worth studying. That qualitiative research might have any value in producing real world-applicable results.

In education, that we would hold everyone to the same standard, not having a separate standard for wrestlers and football players. Or that a lesbian administrator at a university could actually function at her job and even hire women faculty without having an ulterior motive to drive the men out and take over the campus with some Amazonistic agenda.

In healthcare or anywhere, that we could treat people with compassion and sensitivity in our workplaces. That we could stop skewing and screwing the balance of economic resources across all people. That we could do a better job with taking care of patients than rushing them through an auto industry-designed assembly line with understaffed, unsupported and unappreciated nurses.

In cancer care specifically, that we could clean up the mess we leave behind as healthcare workers and physicians treating people with potentially life-threatening disease for which we give potentially life-threatening at worst, quality of life-diminishing and traumatizing at best, treatments. And in business.

I have been noticing this in many aspects of what I'm doing, now that I've crossed over to the dark side into the domain of the corporate and business world, still firmly held by POWDER. They are so sure they know how to do everything exactly the way they know is right. They don't know a damn thing about you or your business, but they want to sell their consulting services to you and tell you how you should market things to potential customers, even though they wouldn't know the first thing about what those customers might be concerned about, value, or want.

Or if a vendor wants to sell you their product, even if it's based on shoddy science and questionable claims, that if you reject them, they have to tell you how inhumane you are and question how you could possibly work with cancer patients. It doesn't matter if the vendor has unverifiable credentials or approaches you in a creepy and unprofessional way that immediately gives you the red flag to investigate them further...

I hope people who are non-white, non-Christian, non-male, non-straight, non-linear, non-robotic, non-upper middle class, non-dominant culture brainwashed don't have to deal with this crap much longer. It might be this way the rest of my working life, but damn I plan to keep doing something to change it until I turn up in a ditch off the side of the road with my stiff, running shoe-clad feet in the air. By my own doing, not by being ambushed by some coal-rolling, truck-swerving, gun-toting jerk high on POWDER.

Thanks for indulging me. As a certain poetic genius* once said, "Haters back off!"

*Miranda Sings, a girl.

Quality of Life...

I haven't really been in the mood for writing lately. I've been surprisingly together since Iris is gone, but I do miss her. I realize every day that there is some habit that I've acquired just because of her, that I no longer need to continue. It's really strange as I keep discovering all the ways she affected our lives and how many things we did for her.

I haven't been overly motivated but I am slowly getting things done, chipping away at a long list of tasks that I need to stay on...I have a new student working with me, which helps to keep me on my toes.

Since we skipped our vacation and stuck around I got a few things organized. I got some bookshelves for the woman cave that I've been needing: I had piles of stuff everywhere.

Running-wise, nothing, but I have been getting out for lots of miles on my feet, did over 60 this past week. This is the view I see now. I've been pushing Isabelle around in the cart. Her arthritis in her right hip is really bothering her. We give her Rimadyl but it just doesn't seem to be enough these days, so what I want to do is try giving her some marijuana-laced dog treats. I ordered some and we should have them by early this coming week. They have the active compound that might help her without much THC, so it shouldn't be psychoactive. I'm hoping that that helps her enough to make her more comfortable.

We've been trying to keep her busy, trips to Dairy Queen for pup cones, Starbucks for pup cups, and so on.

If that doesn't work I will call the pet palliative care service because they might be able to help us figure out ways to make the house and her everyday activities more comfortable for her.

We're talking about a 14 year old dog who still enjoys some things, like eating, watching squirrels, howling at us when we come home, and sitting in the grass in the yard letting the breeze blow in her hair, I just want her to be as comfortable as possible and not be bored or depressed, especially after losing her lifetime companion a few weeks ago.

Last night I walked to the bookstore just to get some miles on my feet while Dennis went to watch a Broncos game with his friend Mark. I got some bedtime reading for Isabelle: I needed some Selp-Helf. The new book by Miranda Sings. I can TOTALLY relate to her doing her character. I am a loyal Mirfanda.

Last week we were going a little stir crazy and we decided to have a garage sale. That was an interesting study in human nature. No need to go to Walmart, you can just bring it to your house. I think next year on my birthday maybe I need to run from garage sale to garage sale instead of going to Walmart.

Grief is so unpredictable. You don't know how you're going to respond. I have been amazingly tear-free. I keep thinking that maybe one of these days it's going to hit me, but maybe it won't hit me until Isabelle's gone. I don't know.

I feel like Iris's time was done, she was such a great dog. Nobody had a personality like that. As I walk through the neighborhood, it amazes me how many people knew Iris around here. Not just on our block, but for a good mile radius from the house, so many people knew us from walking and running her. The entire Starbucks staff. And many of the customers too. She lit up the room and commanded all the attention. She was like a bright light that you couldn't look away from. A true soulmate.

I was thinking about maybe taking Isabelle to a 5K in pushing her in the cart and see how I feel about being around runners. Local short road races don't get me motivated because I have so little interest in them. If anything I can just do the miles on my feet and just so that I'll be able to tolerate it when I get back to doing some ultras.

I do have my work cut out for me as far as work goes because I need to finish the content for this online service. One thing I can say is that work still brings me an incredible amount of joy. I don't know how many people get to have that feeling where they do their work and feel so good about it. How do I describe it other than this warm feeling that spreads and takes over your entire being. It feels so satisfying, purpose-driven and right.

I can't even describe it any other way, I know never felt that way as an oncology nurse in the hospital because of all the little mindless tasks that had nothing to do with taking care of patients and helping them make their lives better. I knew that I was helping people and I felt good about that but it was nothing like this.

Which reminds me, I keep seeing all these articles in medical newsletters talking about how cancer survivorship care plans are not really helping people and they're causing more anxiety. Well, DUH!!! I could've told you that because all you're doing is telling people all the things they need to watch out for, in terms of cancer recurrence, and the thing that people are most anxious about is a cancer recurrence.

The follow-up screenings are important, but you have to show people what they can actually do, in terms of actions you can take to help yourself feel better, live better, and enjoy life more. But that's the stuff that the medical profession doesn't help with or know how to do or convey. They're not trained to do that.

It's okay if doctors don't know everything, but they need to acknowledge that their patients need something that they can't provide, so they need to stop being fuddy-duddies and start admitting that they don't know it all, because there are things that exist outside of their scope. They need to open their eyes, learn about other options for their patients, and start referring people to those services.

Basically what the medical establishment doesn't get, is that after you clearcut, burn, and salt the earth, you have to restore it somehow to bring it back to life. You can bring out all the chainsaws you want, but if you don't plant the seeds afterward and nurture the seedlings, you'll never have a forest again.

They're starting to catch on, but they don't have a way to act fast enough. They're tripped up by their own rigidity, dogma, and bureaucracy. And need I mention, profit interests? Not only that, but doctors are pathetically overworked, overstressed, and undersupported. And it's only getting worse as they've become employees of the big corporate health systems.

That's been one of the biggest frustrations for me, I pretty much have to ignore people in the medical profession, which is unfortunate because I'd love to work with them if they could just acknowledge that what I could bring to their patients would actually be very helpful. But, of course, when healthcare is really just about money, anything that helps their patients spend less money on healthcare is actually in competition with them. It's unfortunate that healthcare is the misnomer that it is.

People just don't trust science or medicine the way they used to, because there is so much corruption and greed on all levels. Just like our political and legal systems.

I didn't mean for this to launch into a rant. I'm thinking about the cancer stuff and how it takes years for the medical establishment to change anything they do. There's a lot of talk now about the inadequacy of cancer survivorship effforts but by the time they change anything from the current practice, I'm going to be retired or close to it. Meanwhile, there are people suffering and the medical people have little to offer them.

And on my way to the bookstore last night I was walking past the A & W and there was a sign that said, "Now hiring talented individuals starting at nine dollars an hour". They also had the same sign over by the dumpsters in back so it makes me wonder. Sad.

Bedtime reading for Isabelle.

Redneckistan Romp

Sunday June 21 was Father's Day and Summer Solstice. I decided a while back that I needed to somehow get a decent length of time on my feet in the heat if I was going to feel ready to pace Bob at Badwater this summer, given my lack of "training" all year. It took forever for the temperatures to warm up this spring, but finally we got a few 90+ degree days last week.

Daylight was supposed to last 15 hours and 5 minutes, so I chose to stay out on the roads for that amount of time. Sunrise was 5:30 am, sunset at 8:35 pm.

I decided against a donut or brewery-themed run, since I needed the time on my feet, and I already reached a lifetime high weight this spring. I didn't need any more reasons to stuff my face. So I chose to stick to running and moving forward instead of breaking it up with extended stops that served no purpose for preparation. There are no Dunkin Donuts or breweries in Death Valley. Though it wouldn't be a bad idea...

Regardless, I'm already well-trained on the eating and drinking parts, it's the moving forward on my feet that needs attention.

I chose a road route with some difficult hills, followed by a long flat stretch, similar to Badwater conditions, only about 30 degrees cooler. I decided to go out the Spring Creek Trail bike path, get on the road going up by the stadium and over Maniac Hill first and down to Harmony Road, then back up over Maniac and northward over the big hills on Centennial down to Bellvue, then turning onto the Bingham Hill Road for another short set of rollers.

Then the route went back up over Bingham Hill and south along Centennial to repeat the big hills, down past the stadium and back home via the Spring Creek Trail, with a quick resupply stop at home, followed by more long loops or out & backs as needed to fill out the last several hours.

The temperature was supposed to hit the mid-90s, and it's a good 36 mile route from the start until the first stop back at the house, so I knew I'd need to carry a lot of fluid. I arranged with Dennis to meet along Bingham Hill road somewhere in the last morning for resupply of food, fluids, and ice.

After that I figured I could make it back to the house and do the rest of it on my own. The other advantage was that I'd have to carry a lot of weight in my big Ultimate running pack, which will prepare me for what it will be like at the Grand Canyon this fall when I have to have enough to get through the long stretches north of Phantom Ranch, in case the water is already turned off at the north Rim.

I left the house at exactly 5:30 am, running west along Spring Creek. My friend Jen planned to meet me a couple of miles in, and she was running toward me when I got to College Avenue. We ran west and she stayed with me until the beginning of the climb up to the reservoir. We had a great discussion about the science of nutrition and the recommended guidelines for nutrition which are about to be rolled out this year. Jen attended a Galloway running workshop the day before in Estes Park and was excited about that, too.

She turned around to go home for a 14 mile run and I continued up the hill. On the way down Maniac I saw HUGE snake wafer and I couldn't help chuckling about our conversation earlier. Was it gluten-free? Paleo? Raw?

It was early on a Sunday morning but by 3 hours into my run I could already see the throngs of people headed up to the reservoir for the day. Crazy people, lots of motorcycles whizzing by, rubbernecking at everything on the side of the road, guys in big trucks revving their engines loudly, sporting tattoos, reeking of cigarettes and cologne, puffing their chests behind the wheel as they stepped on the gas passing bikini-clad recreators, women yakking away on their cell phones as they drove the tight curves on the road. It looked like someone unlocked the doors to the sensory deprivation chamber and let them all out. Did these people have any concept of peace and quiet?

I realized that I usually am not up here on the weekends, and this was a reminder of why.

I stopped to use one of the pit toilets at Rotary Park and then sat on the concrete outside to pull some drinks out of my pack. That was when I discovered that PBJ tortillas wrapped in plastic bags don't hold up very well with sweating, icy waterbottles. They were soggy and indistinguishable from a pile of fresh roadkill. I had to toss them, there was no way. I had enough gel and peanut butter packets to make it until Dennis met me.

I continued north over the hills and down into the valley, turning just before Bellvue to go over Bingham Hill road. I got a text from Dennis that he was on his way, he caught me almost at the turnaround, before the last little rise. He brought me a breakfast sandwich from Starbucks, more drinks, ice, and PBJ tortillas. I stuffed a big blob of ice in my bandana and tied it around my neck, stuffed the pack as full as I could, carrying more than a gallon of fluids.

Once I turned around at the bottom at the intersection of Overland Hill road and started heading back, I began to see even more traffic. Lots of bicycles, riding mostly in groups. They'd stop at the top of the hill and wait for each other. Some impatient motorists would get behind them, following slowly, as if it were such an imposition to have to slow down. Does it really hurt to put the brakes on? All they had to do was wait for another 50 meters for the bikes to have enough room to move over, but the drivers acted like it was the end of the world.

There is no shoulder on most of the stretch of road between Bingham Hill and Lory State Park turnoff. There were lots of big trucks with attitudes. I couldn't see their truck nuts, but I'm sure they were there. That's when I remembered "Redneckistan". I always called it my Rambo Run when we used to live in this part of town when I was in graduate school. People drive big loud trucks fast, and they either try to run you off the road or assert their ownership of it. That where snake wafers come from.

Once on the hill up to the north dam again, there was a wide shoulder and a bit more safety. Still, the traffic kept coming. It felt like rush hour, nonstop flow of traffic all the way along the reservoir. When I finally made it back to Spring Creek Trail it was quiet again, no more cars. I was finished with the tough hilly section and headed home for quick stop.

On my way down the bike path it was quiet enough so I decided to call my dad to wish him a happy Father's Day. The oncologist finally decided that the chemo he was on isn't working, so he's getting a quick break and then will go on a different chemo. They are headed to California soon to escape the Arizona heat. I hope he will feel well enough to enjoy it.

Soon after I got off the phone with dad, I needed to get more cold fluids out of the main compartment of my pack. I started looking for a place to stop in the shade where I could stop. I saw a bench ahead of me under a huge cottonwood, nice and shady. I made a beeline for it, and just as I arrived, a family on bicycles, quite overweight, was headed up the trail, coming up a small rise. As I unbuckled the straps, whipped off my pack and set it down on the bench, the woman and girl got off their bikes, looking at me with a strange, slightly disgusted look on their faces.

I thought, maybe they wanted the bench, so I said, "You can sit down here, I'll only be here for a minute". The woman got an even more disgusted look on her face, and said, "No, thank you." Total contempt. And they moved their bikes over to a picnic table a few yards away, under some trees. She looked at me like I was an alien. I guess my hat, or the way I looked at that point, 35 miles into my run, or the fact that I took their shady spot and apparently outran them to it, pissed her off. I gave her my best Miranda Sings smile impression, minus the lipstick, rearranged the bottles in my pack, and took off.

I ran into another runner I haven't seen in a while, we stopped and talked for a few minutes, then Jen came by on her bike to see how I was doing. Soon I was home and drinking iced tea, refilling my pack with another heavy load of frozen bottles and an icy bandana, stuffing my face with food out of the fridge. I had slowed down and it didn't look like I would get a huge mileage accumulation, but it didn't matter. The time on my feet was more important.

I spent a total of 15 minutes in the house. Lucky we don't have central AC or it would have been hard to get back out there. It was only 91 degrees according to my phone but the road felt much hotter. I went out toward Warren Lake and did a big loop out by the Power Trail before coming back home, about a 10 mile loop. My phone battery was dying so I came back to the house, plugged in the phone and ran out for another mile or so while it had time to charge, then I came back and grabbed it again.

It stayed warm up until an hour before sunset. At one point I passed a portapotty that had been sitting out in the blazing sun all day and realized it didn't smell too bad, probably better than I did. I was comfortable all day, I'd been taking an S cap every hour and drinking plenty to lighten my pack. The only places on my body with a hint of discomfort were my feet, with hot spots I didn't bother to mess with, since I'd be home soon enough, and my neck and shoulders from carrying a 10 pound pack all day.

I headed out for the last time to Warren Lake, catch the sunset for a final out and back to coincide perfectly with my planned finish time. There weren't a lot of clouds so the sunset wasn't nearly as spectacular as it usually is. Still, the view of Longs Peak and Indian Peaks on the horizon was worth stopping for the photographs.

I got back to the house at precisely 8:35 pm. I could not wait to take off my shoes and socks. Dennis fed me mango slices, and I drank cold drinks, stuck a beer in the freezer, ate some food, took a shower, drank the beer, figured out my distance and vertical, and went to bed.

Turned out I got 50.6 miles and 3116 feet of climb, and the same of descent. Slow pace, but that was up and down those gnarly hills with a 10 pound pack in the heat, and mostly walking all day. Not bad. I feel better about being ready to support Bob now.

My feet were swollen and still have heat rash, along with my thighs, and other than that my neck and shoulders were sore all day. I feel good otherwise. I'm wondering if I might need to bump up my shoe size to 8 1/2 soon, because my toes feel bashed. I was running some pretty steep downhills with a heavy pack, but I wonder if my feet continue to expand. When I started running in 1984, I wore a size 6. Now I'm at an 8.

I'm just glad I survived Redneckistan. The days are getting shorter now. I did my long training run. All is well.