More Wildlife...

I've seen more rattlesnakes this spring on the trails of the Front Range than I've collectively seen my whole life.  Thus far, I've seen one at Mt. Falcon and two at North Table Mountain, including this guy late yesterday afternoon about a mile into a 9-mile run around the mountain.

Note: things in this image may appear larger than they actually were.

Prior to this spring, I leapt over a rattler on Lakewood's Green Mountain one year and once saw an eastern timber rattlesnake in Shenandoah National Park.  Other than that...nada. Maybe the wet spring has been good for snakes.

Recent Wildlife Encounters

One of the lures of the trail, of course, always has been the potential to encounter wildlife.  We all enjoy the regular sight of deer and elk quietly grazing trailside.  Who hasn't had, and in retrospect enjoyed, the tingling sensation up the back that comes when you see mountain lion tracks, or just think about how many catamounts have seen you on all those dawn/dusk runs, even though you've never seen them?  ...or, maybe the startling and loud chittering of an unseen squirrel as you race by her tree.  ...or the distant "screeee" of a red-tailed hawk wheeling somewhere overhead.

These are the sights and sounds that warm the heart, and sometimes make the heart race, all contributing to the sensory treat that is trail running.

The last couple of days have brought two of my most memorable wildlife encounters, one with an elk and another with three bears.

Elk

First, on Sunday, I was just wrapping up an 8-mile loop in Elk Meadow Open Space, a route I call the Upper Loop.  The run starts at the park's lower lot and heads up and down Bergen Peak, leaving out the one-mile out-and-back jaunt to the summit.

At the trailhead, I noticed a couple of newly-posted, bright red signs warning of aggressive elk.  There had been a lot of elk in the meadow lately, enjoying the ample crop of tasty and tall grass, but no elk were in sight today, though, so I didn't give the signs another thought, until I was wrapping up my run, that is.

I was about a half-mile from finishing up the run and decided to end with some hard running. On the relatively flat/downhill section of Painter's Pause, I started getting after it, running at a 5:20-5:30 pace. I was feeling fluid and in the flow, just looking ahead and cruising. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I picked up some movement. A young, but big elk was running straight at me, effortlessly, but menacingly.

My first thought was, "Where did this guy come from?"  This part of Elk Meadow is a wide-open grassland. How did I not see an elk? My next thought was, "Is he going to stop?" It didn't appear that he was. He was looking right at me and running directly at me.  So, my instincts kicked in. I stopped abruptly and made an aggressive feint in the elk's direction. He stopped about 10 yards from me.  Whew.

I looked at him and noted that he had a misaligned jaw, maybe the result of getting hit by a car, or an injury from a tussle with another frisky elk. Who knows? Anyway, I started jogging again, repeatedly looking over my shoulder.  As soon as I moved, he ran at me again. I stopped and swung my arm as if I was throwing something. He stopped. I removed my sunglasses and glared at  him (the ol' stink eye trick). Didn't work.  He came at me again. I lunged in his direction. He stopped. I started side-galloping (so I could keep an eye on the elk) to a spot where I knew there were some loose rocks I could pick up and hurl in the elk's direction. He must have read my mind, because as soon as I got to the rocks, he stopped and began grazing. He was done.

Elk Meadow Open Space is amazingly green right now. Witness while you still can.

I jogged the last quarter mile back to the car, noting again the helpful red signs warning about aggressive elk.

Bears

On Monday, I pulled into the upper parking lot at Elk Meadow, initially with plans to just get in the usual six or so miles. My motivation this day was low and I wasn't looking forward much to the spin on the trails. As I jogged past the trail kiosk, I decided I needed a change. I needed to get back to just enjoying the outing and not worrying about mileage or speed.

So, instead of following the usual dirt path, I just marched straight up the hill, with plans to eventually pick up a social trail that runs along the southeast side of the park and climbs to the second southernly lookout on the Bergen Peak Trail.

As I made my way up the hill, I was skirting some private property. The peak of a garage roof was just in view, so I was being quiet until I was out of sight of the structures and any people that might be nearby.

Since I was off trail on a relatively steep side slope, I mostly had my head down watching my foot placement. At one point, I lifted my head to look around and caught movement just ahead. I froze next to tree thinking it was a dog from the nearby house. As I stood silently, I quickly realized it wasn't a dog heading toward me, it was a black bear.

I was downwind from the bear, so it didn't smell me and was walking right toward me, maybe five feet higher on the hillside.  I silently watched as the bear continued meandering in my direction. When he got about 15 yards from me, I made a gentle "haaaarummmmpf" sound to warn him that I was near. He froze.

After 2-3 minutes of both of us standing absolutely still, he headed a bit uphill and continued moving east until he was behind some low-slung evergreen trees. I figured the show was over, so I looked up again to plan my route on up the hill. Yikes, more bears!

Just up the hill were two more bears, a big momma bear and a small, cinnamon-colored cub. They hadn't yet seen or smelled me, so I stood there watching them, occasionally glancing back to make sure Bear #1 wasn't heading back toward me. I figured Bear #1 must have been a cub from last year, still hanging around momma.

I watched for a bit the momma bear and cub wander around and dig into a log before I headed quietly downhill a ways and continued on my hike up the hill.

I finished the hike/run by climbing up to the high point on the ridge below the summit of Bergen Peak and then plunging/bushwhacking straight down the middle of the mountain to complete the day's off-trail adventure.

Good times, and a welcome change-up from the usual routes.

Motivation Needed

I need to get motivated.  Not motivated to run, however.  I need to get motivated to figure out how to get rid of this damn plantar fasciitis (PF).  And, for kicks, I'd like to figure out why fasciitis has three "i"s.

I've got the kind of PF that hurts like hell in the heel.  It's chronic.  The pain started, I think, back in 2009.  Since then, it's been pretty constant, albeit with different degrees of discomfort.  I thought I'd kicked it last year in the lead up to the Leadville 100.  For the month or two leading up to the race, I'd been running pain-free.  During the race and post-race, nada.  All good.  Then, in November, I did a speedwork session at the Evergreen High School track and that was it.  The PF was back, with a vengeance.  I guess the hard forefoot running stretched something out...fiercely.

Since then, it's been a balancing act...how far...how hard can I run without making my right heel scream at me.  Lately, it's not taken much to really make the heel mad.  Today, the limit was 12 easy trail miles.  Frustrating.

I've got the PF that hurts like hell in the heel.  I know I have a heel spur, which certainly is part of the problem.  (See below...thanks for the pic Wikipedia).  On top of that, favoring the sore heel on the right, I think, is causing me to alter my gait enough to make my left Achilles ache.  Sigh.

So what sort of complex PT routine am I doing for my PF?  Not enough, it seems.  I've been sleeping some nights in an immobilization or night boot, an annoying device meant to keep your foot flexed while you sleep under the theory that a flexed plantar will heal better.  This has helped before, but doesn't seem to be doing the trick now.  I rotate between Saucony Peregrines and Hoka Stinson Evos.  Other than that, I'm not doing much.  I did take about a month off around Christmas.  During that time, the heel felt fine.  At least it did until I ran again.   

As a result, I've gotten pretty good at 10-mile runs.  I haven't run more than 20 miles in an outing since December.  Another frustrating thing is that while the heel kills post-run, it typically feels OK the next morning, that is until I run again.  I don't hobble around all day before running.  So, I tend to under-treat the injury. Maybe it will just go away again, the way it did leading up to Leadville.

But, it's time to start taking this thing more seriously, that is if I want to run anything longer than 10 miles in a stint this summer.  I reckon it's time to throw everything at the problem...icing; night boot; rolling the foot/heel with a hard, spiky plastic ball; NSAIDs; and anything else I can think of.  The problem is, I lack motivation.  I hate babying injuries. I don't like to think about chronic injury. I just want to run.  

Yeah, yeah, I know there's a causal relationship between taking care of injuries and being able to "just run."  I'm impatient, and I need to get over said impatience. 

And, I'd better hurry (there's that impatience thing again).  Summer's coming.  That's the time of year when the pull to "just run" is strongest. 

Herd Mentality

Sunday's run up Bergen Peak in Elk Meadow Open Space (10 miles) had a few challenges:

• Cold
• Snowing
• 5-6 inches of fresh snow up high.
• Big ol' herd of elk blocking the trail.

Turned out, none of the above were a big deal. In fact, the new snow made the run very enjoyable. A new dump of snow totally changes the feel of a place. All the familiar rocks are covered. The sharp edges are softened by the blanket of white.  It's quieter. Plus, the peak was socked in.  It was like looking down into a bowl of soup, the cloud cover was so low.

The elk herd that has been hanging around the meadow of late was grazing right on the trail as I was headed home.  I couldn't go around them on the left due to the fence that keeps elk off busy Evergreen Parkway, and I didn't feel like slogging through the snow/grass to go all the way around the herd to the west.  So, I cautiously and in as non-threatening a manner as possible made my way through the middle of the herd. Thankfully, none of the cows and young bulls were too agitated.

Good times.