Return to Gunrackistan...A Love Story

"My stonehouse burnt down, nothing obscures the light of the bright moon" -Masahide

Gunnison, Colorado. One of the highest, coldest cities in the U.S. Also one of the most beautiful, and the still pristine way of life- small town, with a culture that is disappearing and barely clinging to its existence. Ranching and recreation are the economy. And then there's Western State College (now Western State Colorado University).

Up the road 30 miles there's a ski town called Crested Butte. Culturally different- progressive, liberal, upscale, hipsterish. The locals refer to Gunnison, downvalley, as Gunrack. Gunnison old timers might have names for the Butte too but I don't know them. Hippie town, maybe.

I lived in both towns back in the 80s and 90s for a brief time, a few years here, a few years there. After college, Crested Butte was a great place to hang out and play, wait tables and run or ride mountain bikes over passes with names like Oh Be Joyful and Block & Tackle, Conundrum Pass and Teocalli Ridge, Gothic and Paonia, Green Lake and Washington Gulch.

Gunnison tourists go hunting for elk. And college girls.

I remember shooing a Chevy Blazer packed with hunters away from the women's cross country team one day as we were walking up the hill to the track for practice. And sitting in a bar on a September day after a long mountain bike ride with my girlfriends, being serenaded by some drunk hunters who wanted to buy the local girls rounds of drinks.

Crested Butte tourists go alpine skiing, telemarking, nordic skiing, ride mountain bikes, and sample the microbrews and upscale establishments.

You'd think a leftwinger like me would want nothing to do with Gunrackistan and it's entrenched cowboy culture, locked into the old days when men didn't know what quiche was and definitely couldn't pronounce it...

Cattle country. You ate meat there, it's what's for dinner.

When I first arrived in the valley I was still a vegetarian. But.

I fell in love with Gunnison anyway. I have never been so in love with a place. Ever, and I doubt ever again.

Crested Butte is a beautiful spot in the world. Towering peaks surround a bowl-like valley, the colors of avalanche chutes filled with green aspen and dark green spruce, and snow chutes remain year-round. Wildflowers and painted Victorians and blue sky with fluffy white clouds and clear air lend a palette of color to the surroundings.

I love that, but Gunnison...

the whole area is something different. Maybe it's the sagebrush.

I thought it would be hard to live in Gunrack after being a Buttian. But it drew me in even tighter. I cried for a month when I left to move to Fort Collins for graduate school in 1989. I wanted to go back so badly. I was fixated on it.

One of the mistakes of my youth was that I thought I wanted to go back and teach there. Then I had a chance, a 2 year temporary contract to fill a sudden vacancy that was offered before I even defended my dissertation. I jumped on it, of course. Except by the first day of my second year, I can remember going to class, and counting how many days were left in the school year.

To put it mildly, it used to be a very backward, regressive type of atmosphere that seems to have changed all too slowly. Back then, there was a palpable fear of and hostility to women, and anyone who might be a little on the progressive side. Newcomers who didn't play the game with the old guard didn't make them too happy.

About 20 years ago the college experimented on the wild side- it hired a woman as president. That was enough to freak the good ole boys out, especially when she brought in a whole slew of new, young faculty many of whom were women and a few of whom were (shhhh!) lesbians. A word that didn't even exist in the lexicon of the good ole boys. They couldn't even say the word. Enough to put a few of the old boys over the edge. Politically it was a difficult time in the state's politics, and being a state school we were subject to whatever happened at the state capitol.

The new President wasn't too supportive of the old boy coaches getting away with the same old crap. Which created a lot of tension.

This was at the same time as Amendment 2 was on the ballot and there was a big political fight going on down on the Front Range. Someone was stomping and kicking the good ole boys in the shins with steel-toed boots, but you'd think the wearer of the boots had indoor plumbing or was gay. Focus on the Family, James Dobson, Bill Perkins, and the Colorado Springs contingent were in their homophobic heyday. (Remember Bob Dole and Family values, this is a Christian nation, and so on...)

Yes, the good ole boys and their minions, wanting me to allow a student to get away with not doing any work and give him a passing grade so he could play football or wrestle or whatever. Stopping me in the hall to ask important, pointed, questions such as, "If you're married, why don't you have the same last name as your husband?" or "Are you a vegetarian?", or "What do you think of Title IX?"

All very relevant to our job descriptions. "Are you in that 'women's group?'" Emphasis as if women was a four letter word that needed to be spoken quietly. (Translation: Do you hang out with lesbians who plan to take over the world from men, replace us from our jobs, emasculate and castrate us?) My office mate was in the exact same boat as I was. She loved it when our fellow faculty members praised us by saying "good girl". Among other things.

Looking back, I see how backward things were even in the 90s. Not only awkward and socially tone deaf, but just twisted and fixated on the threat of feminism, as if their nuts would drop into the toilet and go "Plink-plink!" into the water as they flushed.

I look back at the painful times, but there were many more good times, namely the relationships that came out of that time.

Right here in this building I met my husband. Webster Hall in Gunnison, at a 5K with a pancake breakfast afterward in August of 1986. I won the race for the women that day, too. I think it might have been the first race I ever won.

My friend Heidi and I became friends and running partners. She started out as one of my students, and we ran in the cold predawn mornings together. We are still close friends 20 years later, even though she lives in Arizona now.

And there was the team. The Western State Mountaineers. The athletes on the cross country and distance track teams, so many of whom we stay in touch or have reconnected with, and still see on occasion. Scattered all over the state, we can always count on running into someone from those days every so often.

And then there's Coach.

The reason we were back in Gunnison last weekend was Coach. My husband Dennis, a former cross country and distance runner on the team, was being inducted into the college's Sports Hall of Fame. Coach and another friend of ours from way back, Joe, had nominated him.

Coach is one of a kind. I can't even describe this guy, he has a presence that is larger than anything in the valley. You'd have to meet him to understand. But they definitely broke the mold after they made him and there is no way anyone who has ever been around him or has worked with him can help but be influenced, and inspired by him. "Hup-hup.net"

I can't say I always got along with him, I didn't. We butted heads A LOT.

Coach and I are very strongheaded people and of course we would butt heads. I don't agree with the way he goes about doing things, but it works for him because the system was designed around him and his needs, they accommodated him and his ways for years, and it dates back to a very old paternalistic time, and he's managed to have his way. And I was a newcomer, not to mention the gender, age and heretical nature of who I am.

But still, I can't help but admit I like the guy, the person he is. It's easier from a distance. But how could you not like him, anyone with that unique of a personality, you really can't help it.

So, the long story is my husband ran for Western State College (now Western State Colorado University) in the early 80s, and was one of the top runners on team, ever. He was national champion in the 3000m steeplechase, set a national record in that event at the time, was one of the top cross country runners, 4th in the national meet, multiple time All-American, and so on.

Pretty awesome accomplishments.

After college he coached as an assistant and then I came on as an assistant coach a couple of years later. That's when Dennis and I actually started dating. I moved to Fort Collins to go to graduate school, and Dennis left to go to Adams State College, the rival college, two hours down the road and over the pass, because Dennis was working on a masters in physical education and the program got cut at Western, but still was offered at Adams. So he went there. Not to mention that Adams State College legendary Coach Joe Vigil was the Olympic coach for distance runners.

Running for Reebok, under Vigil, Dennis improved at cross country and more. He competed and finished extremely well all over the country, in road races and made the US Cross country team and went to France and Italy to compete in the World Championships and other races. That was in 1990, the same year we got married.

Coach was at our wedding. I guess I should have prepared my dad because Coach gave a toast, and my dad was like, "who the hell is this guy??? He sounds like a relic, a dinosaur."

Yes, my dad is a sharp judge of character.

Despite the paternalism, I've always called Coach by his first name. I never was one of his athletes or students, I was one of his assistant coaches, and later we were fellow faculty members.

But I think to him, a woman 30 years younger than him, who was the same age as many of his athletes and that he had seniority over, I sensed there was a slight bristle. Other young faculty members and assistant coaches called him Duane. Maybe it was just my projection. But I felt like it was important to establish my ground, my territory, that I wasn't going to be pushed around like a member of the team.

He never said anything about it, and I know he would have if it was that bothersome to him. But in my mind, he's really Coach.

Anyway, many years later Adams State asked Dennis if he'd run on their team at a masters race, Dennis said yes. Then a week before the race, someone from Western called to ask Dennis to ask if he'd run for the Western Team. He'd already committed to Adams and stuck with it.

After that race, which Adams won, Coach did the finger in your face thing, using his classic relic-like, dinosaur-like, paternalistic I'm the coach and I rule your life voice. Which really upset Dennis.

And they didn't speak to each other for years. As the years went on, many halls of fame with lots of athletes inducted, and Dennis was never asked. People would comment, when is it going to be your turn? Dennis thought as long as Coach was around it wasn't going to happen. Disloyalty was Coach's biggest peeve.

"You can't break with tradition. This is the Western Slope!" he would have said.

So...a few more things happened. Pat Porter, US Olympian, former Adams State runner and Dennis' teammate from the US Cross Country team, was named to another honor several years ago and Dennis and his friend Steve went to the ceremony to see Pat and honor his award and celebrate. A week later, Pat was killed in a plane crash.

Then, Coach was inducted two years ago. I forget what I was doing but I didn't feel like going. I just didn't want to bring any upheaval into my life at that point. I wasn't ready to go over Monarch again and see the valley and be reminded, and I didn't go. Then I found out how many people on the team showed up and was kicking myself.

They did settle things, finally. Coach is getting up there in age, he's dealing with some health issues. He's not physically well, but to see him, he never ages, he never changes, and he doesn't seem to have less energy. Still walks and talks and carries himself the same way, with the same booming confidence of a man who knows he drives things.

He might as well own the town, it could easily be named after him. I know that a future building or major renovation, perhaps the new Mountaineer Bowl, will be named after him. It should be. Hell, the whole county should be.

Except I think the Mountaineer had a heart attack. Must have been all that red meat.

For the induction weekend, it all worked out perfectly. It looks like maybe this new president and athletic director might have better plans and a considerably firmer grip on the world outside Gunnison, having been other places.

Dennis's family came up. At first I didn't want to go to the football game or the president's breakfast or the plaque hanging, but I went to all of them. Some of our old friends and Dennis's old teammates came up. It was a small group but the right energy. There were a lot of people I wish I would have seen, and I wish I would have had more time up there, but the ones I really didn't want to see were not there or didn't come up. Some of them don't even live there anymore. A good thing. New blood is needed, even in Gunrackistan.

One of Dennis' old teammates, a high jumper, was also inducted. That was cool. And one of my former students too! It was a shared celebration, and seeing everyone after so many years added an extra fun dimension to it.

I wasn't ready until now. It was just so hard to go back over Monarch Pass. I don't know why, because we went over Cottonwood Pass to Crested Butte several times since then. I just couldn't deal with Gunnison.

For years I've been thinking I am just so in love with the place that I can't bear the pain of seeing it and knowing that I can't live there. You can't make a living up there unless you have one of the few jobs or are independently wealthy. Otherwise you need to piece together 4 or 5 different jobs to keep afloat. You have to really be addicted to stay. I must not have been. But I'm obviously not fully recovered.

And now Coach is sick and we all know time is limited, and no one is saying what we all know.

It was a combination of one of the most disappointing, painful experiences and one of the most influential places in my life, but I'm forever thankful for it and the chance to immerse myself and completely and totally fall in love with the place, so much that I couldn't even go back for 20 years. Part grudge, part pain, part fear of being sucked into the intoxication and addiction that would limit my opportunities forever.

I am glad I finally went. I faced it, my discomfort, my fear of not being able to handle it, of it being too painful. But it wasn't at all. As much as I love the place and think it's beautiful and peaceful and there's something that awakens a deep place in my heart and spirit, a feeling that I somehow belong there, at least in the natural environment of it...

...politically and personally I don't have enough tongues to replace the ones I would bite off every day, maybe even every hour. I'm not a lizard, can't grow body parts back. But I know that in Gunnison, they have plenty of taxidermists who could probably mount those tongues on a wall somewhere.

Gunrackistan.
Some things never change
I love that it hasn't changed.
The air is clear, the air smells fresh and the sagebrush and pine scent is everywhere.
I'm glad it's still Gunrackistan.
It would be more painful to go back there and see that it had changed.

Stuck in the Starting Blocks

It's only a week from February and I have not moved, I am still stuck in the funk that I've been in for the past four months. No progress on fitness or losing the blob around my midsection and hips, soon I'll be giving Kim Kardashian some real competition.

To top it off I did something to my back a few days ago, I can't figure out what I did because I didn't work out, didn't lift anything, nothing out of the ordinary happened in my activities all week, but Friday morning I woke up with a sore low lack, and it stretched from my sacrum all the way through my lumbar area. And all the muscles in my glutes, around my hips, and hamstrings are tight and sore. Every small movement is painful.

Friday I drove to Denver to hang out with Steph for the day. It was a mental health break for both of us. We mostly just sat and talked, took her dog for a walk at the park since it was a decent day, and caught up on what's happening in our lives. We still have to carry out our mutual bucket list trip to Death Valley to see all the sights we never got to see during the race.

Getting out of the car when I got home from her house was excruciating. I iced, took ibuprofen, and slept on the floor Friday night. Saturday was hell, and I had to sit in a chair for much of the day finishing up my chemo class. Thankfully I got it done, one less thing to deal with right now. But my back hurts! Can't bend over to do laundry, pick up dog poop, empty the trash, feed the girls, or anything I need or want to do. Getting in and out of the car seat is an ordeal.

Today I went for a walk with Iris for a couple of miles and that felt okay. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't painful and it helped to loosen things up.

I'm not thinking very clearly or being efficient at getting any work done. My brain is not firing properly. Executive function is seriously impaired. When you get dressed you have to think about the steps in order to complete the task, like putting your underwear on first, then putting your pants on, then your shoes. It's very difficult to get through those steps. I was trying to describe it to Wheaties Boy on the phone. We've been trying to figure out when we can meet to run, and I am in no shape to get my butt out the door.

I have too many stray thoughts, my brain is unfocused and unsettled. Chalk it up to hormones, the weather, isolation, depression, who knows. It's a combination of things, I'm sure. I need to sort out the tangles. Not running at all for the past week hasn't helped. And now I can't run at all due to my back. I'm hoping things will improve this week.

I'm tempted to get in the car, drive south and west, until the sun stays out and there's no more white or gray in the landscape. Some bougainvillea flowers would be nice to see. Palm trees, oleanders and cactus. But it hurts to sit...

I'm hoping this coming week will bring me some forward progress, I can scrape the gum out of my brain and unstick the parts.

3 am Hot Flashing is Not All Bad

My legs are trashed. I need to untrash myself. I woke up in the middle of the night hot flashing again, and when I got up, I realized I have little aches and pains that hurt all over.

All these little nagging things have caught up with me. I took an easy week 4 weeks ago but it wasn't all that easy. This hip flexor thing is annoying and my left knee is doing something weird, it feels sore under the patella, and my right ankle is a little swollen. And I feel strong on my runs, on the hills and in my endurance. I don't feel like I have the speed yet, but with the miles I've been doing and on tired legs, I'm not surprised. I need to take a break and let my body recover so I can get the results I want before September.

I'm looking at another 2 1/2 months of training before NorthCoast, or two months, not counting taper. I have time. I am going to take this coming week to ride the bike and back way off on the running miles, maybe not run at all, and just let everything settle down. I need fresh legs to help me develop the speed and stay uninjured, and if I continue pushing it, one of these little nagging things or something else unexpected could become an injury. Yesterday as I was running I rolled my right ankle on a perfectly smooth stretch of trail. That probably means I'm tired and not paying attention. Vulnerable.

For the next two weeks I will be busy and then taking my trip to Badwater, working the race and driving back. I am going to take advantage of this time as a mid-summer break and not worry about the training, let things heal up and run when I feel like it. Then I can come back and hit it hard for the end of July, the month of August and early September. I know that with the strength I have now, the speed is the only missing piece. I think I can get away with just one more long run all summer.

One of the many lessons I've learned over the years is that you have to believe in your base. It will carry you through a lot of things, and it's a cushion to fall back on when you need to back off and rest. I also believe in my speed, and I know it comes back when my legs aren't completely trashed.

Hot flashing at 3 am isn't all bad when it gives you a reality check. I think I'll limp back to bed in the air conditioned room now.

It's Monday and My Legs Hurt

As predicted, my legs hurt like hell today. I wasn't going to let that stop me though. Last night it cooled off dramatically and we were actually COLD. I got out an extra blanket and closed the windows.

This morning it was freezing! To me, 44 degrees feels like freezing. It was a perfectly clear day though, the air was crisp this morning and a perfect running day.

I started with the girls for a mile and a half, then did another 9, then another 4 1/2 tonight at Warren Lake for a total of 15 for the day. The morning wasn't too bad, a bit rough getting started, but I didn't really notice the soreness except for going up and down the stairs. Tonight's workout was a struggle. The soreness really started to kick in.

I'll see what tomorrow brings. I'm supposed to meet Emma early in the morning for a run. I hope I can climb out of bed!

I want to go up in the mountains but I'm too busy this week. if I get all my stuff done, I can go up next week. I'm also running the Estes Park Half the weekend after next. But I want to hit the trails up high, even though I know my ankles won't like it. I just need to get up there on the trails, way up high, and see, and breathe.

Today is our 24th wedding anniversary. Dennis went for a run, which is cause for celebration. Maybe he realizes that I might chick him by our 25th if he doesn't do something now. But he also brought home a key lime pie. It could have something to do with that.

I'm hoping this soreness will go away by mid-week. I'm looking pathetic. This is worse than after a long ultra. A few more quad-bashing sessions and I should be bombproof!

Pain is Temporary

What an interesting day I had. After exploring Facebook and chatting with my friend from high school, we realized that both of our lives have undergone huge changes in just the past 4 years.

We realized that the last time we really spent some quality time together, it was 4 years ago and she was still living near Santa Cruz, in the process of going through a divorce, trying to figure out what was next and she was feeling very much adrift, and in a lot of emotional pain. Now she's planning a wedding, she's enjoying snowboarding, pursuing her photography, and enjoying life.

At the same 4 years ago I was just weeks away from starting nursing school, and my life was not in good order either. Things were not good in general in my life. Dennis and I had seen better days together. I'd been in a bad place for several years, trying to get my thyroid stuff figured out and I'd only been on medication that worked for less than a year.

I knew going into nursing wasn't going to be easy, but it seemed like the most practical thing to do at the time, and I was still concerned about whether I was physically ready for the challenge of intense studying and long days in clinicals, plus trying to hold down a part-time job in addition to my personal training clients.

What I was most afraid of was the fatigue coming back. In the back of my mind I knew that if I wasn't up to it, I would quit and try again later. But I also knew I had to try, and even when it was difficult, I had to push through the fatigue at times. My biggest fear was of finding out that my days of having normal energy were over and that I'd always have to deal with mind-numbing fatigue, and never be able to run ultras again.

As we chatted today we talked about how 4 years ago seems like a million years ago and another life. And how much better things are now.

You have to pass through the pain when it's there. I learned that at Badwater again last summer. The thing about pain is that you get through to the other side of it. Even if that other side is death. For some people, they go through horrific pain, physical, mental, emotional, or otherwise.

To be on the on the other side of the pain, being able to look ahead, to a day when it subsides, even if it seems like from one's perspective at the time, it will never end and never let up. Even if it's unimaginable to see the painful situation as having an end. Even if what could be on the other side of the pain could bring an immeasurable and unimaginable amount of happiness.

Today I am so grateful for and so appreciative of all the amazing, exceptional people in my life, and for my good health, even with this little annoying cold that is temporary, and for the love in my life, and for my ability to run and think and create and live with so little pain, really just the inconvenience of having to deal with occasionally unpleasant people at work. Every day I see people who are at their lowest point in life, and it's important to look into the future for them, and look at the contrast with what is now.

There are people out there who are hurting materially, having lost a lot lately, and other people who are dealing with horrific emotional and physical pain in their lives. I hope they soon pass through the pain, and see the other side, and I hope that what is on the other side for them is happiness. Even if it's unimaginable today, immeasurable and infinite happiness.