Category: running & adventure

My sport involves feet and trails and moving one quickly across the other.

  • How should you dress to run in spring thaw conditions?

    Here in the western prairies of Canada winter is usually a deep, frozen trio of months shouldered by an unpredictable autumn at the front end and a sloppy, scattered mess of thawing weather on the tail.

    It’s Sunday, Runday, and this morning we ran a ten kilometer spring run through that some of that scattered mess of weather.

    The thing is, I know how to dress for cold. And I know how to dress for summer. But this Spring thing is so unpredictable I still almost always get it wrong. So what’s my (modest) advice?

    Flexible Headwear. I have this spring hat trick using a buff, one of those thin and multipurpose tubes of fabric. You can make a half-twist in the middle, invert one end over the other, and voila: you have a light touque. And then half way into the run when the touque is too hot, you can untwist it, make it into a single layer tube. Or if the wind picks up, you can pull it down around your neck. If you’re still too hot, you can scrunch or fold it up and stuff it into a pocket. And when you all stop for coffee at the end of the run, you can double it up again and pull it over your face for a makeshift pandemic facemask. The point is, it’s a flexible piece of clothing. The borderline weather of spring requires you to be ready to add, remove, add, then remove again anything and everything you’re wearing.

    Waterproof Traction. Today our run wasn’t too wet, but last weekend the temperatures were a just the right temperatures that the paths were about one-third packed snow, one third overnight ice slicks, and one third ankle-deep puddles (in the sunshiny spots). This means if our feet weren’t slipping on slick patches of mirror-finished frozen puddles, we were sloshing through their thawed cousins. The thaw season is too short to buy special shoes for this, but double layer socks help, and it doesn’t hurt to keep the “winter tires” (those shoes with a little extra traction and a little less venting) out for another couple weeks until things dry up.

    Light Gloves. No one ever regrets a pair of light gloves this time of year. What else is there to say? Warm hands are the best and no matter hot warmed up you get, the fingers are usually the last to benefit from increased circulation. And more importantly running with your hands in your pockets down icy trails is the quickest way to smacking your face into the still-frozen ground. You’re going to need those hands ready (and warm) to catch you when you inevitably fall.

    Vents & Zippers. Long pants or shorts? Long sleeves or jacket? The temperature changed by five degrees during our one hour run this morning, and then between the sunshine and the shade it was another five degrees. Factor in body heat and that’s a lot of temperature variation. Jackets with zippers that can be unzipped and re-zipped are useful. Clothing with breathable air vents are handy. Light coats with big old armpit zipper vents are amazing and were made for mornings like today. It you can find a pair of running pants that somehow become shorts half way through your outing, you’ve struck it rich for a spring run.

    Sunglasses. It can be sunny (and thus sunglass season) for much of the year, but there is something about that low spring sun poking between the tree branches that just begs for eye protection. Also, if you’re anything like me, you wear a brimmed hat in the summer which helps with the high sun, or you run mostly in the dark in winter when a headlamp is more useful. In the spring, especially at our latitude, the sun has just poked up out of the east when we’re setting out on the trails, and it takes the better part of the morning to climb out of that annoying band of the horizon where looking forward somehow also means you’re staring at the blinding glare of our nearest star. I could go without shades for ten months of the year, but spring has one of the months when I don’t run without them.

  • March Melt in the River Valley

    So desperately am I looking forward to two things: being able to travel further than my neighbourhood and the now-six-month-old puppy being able to tackle a long hike.

    Adventure journal.

    The spring is being generous to us this year.

    Last year (and I remember this specifically because it was the first couple weeks of local lockdown and I was keenly aware of the weather and the time I spent outside because of being stuck at home) we had a slow, wet March melt.

    The snow lingered. The ice slipped up the sidewalks. Regular dustings of snow teased a late spring.

    And I didn’t yet have a six month old puppy who needed long daily walks.

    I live in a city of almost a million people, but I doubt more than ten thousand of them delve very deep at all into our local wilderness.

    The local municipal government made some smart decisions a number of years back and created a kind of zoning exclusion to private development along the river. There are some houses and properties grandfathered in, but for nearly fifty kilometers of river it is managed wilderness, threaded with asphalt paths, single track trails, foot bridges, parking access, picnic areas, and boat launches. The single connected system has been calculated to be twenty-two times the size of Central Park in New York City.

    And we live a ten minute walk from any of about six nearby access points.

    I Took the Afternoon Off.

    The dog needed a long walk as much as I did.

    We slipped into one of the lesser known river valley access points, the kind where you step onto a gravel trail between some houses tucked into the back corner of the neighbourhood, then your take the left fork away from the main trail and out into what seems to be a small strip of unused agricultural land, follow a narrow single track trail into the trees and then wander your way down a moderate descent to the main asphalt path.

    I’ve walked (or run) it a hundred times.

    It was new territory for the pup.

    And I was being cautious, of course.

    The pup is still not fully grown, and she’ll always be somewhat small. Evidence of coyote scat leftover from the winter was all over the place. I’ve seen the wild hounds out there a few times, too. She wouldn’t make much more than a snack for one of them, though they’d be fighting me tooth and nail to get ahold of her. Fortunately they didn’t seem to be lurking nearby and are generally timid critters. We’re going to have an encounter eventually, though. It’s their habitat and I built my house on it. But it doesn’t mean we don’t keep a couple pairs of eyes and ears on alert even when we’re enjoying our walk.

    The ground was squishy and the air was fresh.

    As I said he March melt has been particularly generous to us this year. The temperatures were in the mid-teens and the wispy clouds let enough sunshine through to make the day more than enjoyable, particularly after that long, long winter.

    But mounds of unmelted snow still huddled in the shady bits.

    And the ground was soft and soggy where drainage was less cooperative.

    The mud caked on my pant cuffs and also in the tuffs of fur around the pup’s ankles.

    We trekked down through my familiar route, into the valley and meeting up with the trail where more people had the same Friday afternoon idea as I.

    Five kilometers later we had circled back to the house, both tired but refreshed from the spring air, and had a small collection of photos to swipe through as we dozed together on the couch.

  • Gone Fishin’ (Part Zero)

    A lot of my story-posts begin with “back when I was a kid” because back when I was a kid we did a lot of things that were low-cost, time-burning ways to entertain kids in the local wilderness, a lifestyle that appeals more and more to me as I get a bit older.

    So it should be no surprise to say that back when I was kid we frequently went fishing…

    … and I’ve been thinking about that lately.

    As an adult I’ve let this once-hobby lapse a little bit.

    Well, a lot, to be honest.

    In fact, it’s been three years since I bought myself a sports fishing license, a permit to drop a hook for non-protected fish species within the provincial rivers and lakes (excluding National Parks!) I haven’t made it a priority.

    Also, as my wife reminded me when I told her that I was planning on putting a little more time and effort into fishing this upcoming season, the last time I went out I broke the tip off my fishing rod. So, technically, I’ve had no license nor a functional fishing rod.

    This morning I changed that narrative and dropped some money on my fishing plans making it all official.

    First, fishing Licenses for the 21/22 season went on sale at 9am, and I’m now legal to fish in the province of Alberta, from pulling a pike from the mud-hued river that is a thirty minute walk from my front door to snagging a rainbow trout from any deep lake in the foothills of the rocky mountains.

    Second, a fishing rod repair kit should be arriving via Amazon Prime delivery by Saturday afternoon and I can spend a few minutes (or maybe hours) making sure my old equipment is closer to prime condition for some spring and summer angling.

    More camping. More outdoors. More rivers and lakes. Less computer screens. As much as I’ve enjoyed this past winter, spring can’t come soon enough.

    Now if I manage to catch anything, I suppose the biggest question will be what’s the best cast iron pan for frying up some fresh fish, huh?

  • #RunClub : New Season, New Plans

    Sunday Runday, and for my #RunClub approaching spring is usually a time of ramping up our training, distances, and intensities for all those summer races.

    By mid-March of 2020 we were swimming in a kind of moving goalpost of uncertainty. Races were being cancelled without much warning. There was always a sense of… well, we’ll see how things look in a month or so.

    As mid-March of 2021 approaches, nearly a year into the local reaction to the global pandemic, our uncertainty is a lingering aftershock of the past twelve months… mixed with hopeful optimism… sprinkled with a dash of we’re all kinda used to this now, right?

    Last summer our “coffee club with a running problem” moved our weekly meetings to the parking lot of the recreation center (closed to general access) where we had been meeting to run for nearly a decade.

    A club that was usually twenty to thirty members strong, accustomed to weekly Sunday morning takeovers of the local café, found itself instead quietly gathering in lawn chairs over asphalt drinking take-out coffees near the bumpers of our vehicles while we observed social distancing rules.

    Then winter hit.

    ….and the deep, dark, cold lockdown happened.

    Me out there running solo was a thing for at least three months. Coffees were virtual, hugging a mug at home and staring into the familiar glow of my iPad for a visit via screen. It’s only been in the last couple weeks that the weather has cracked through the zero degree barrier and made resuming the coffee club meetings in the local parking lot a real possibility.

    Which is the noteworthy thing about today, I guess.

    This Sunday last year was normal: races being planned, training being sorted, coffees being shared in close company.

    Next Sunday last year was when all that normal-ness shattered.

    We sat in our lawn chairs in the parking lot this morning after a ten klick run, wrapped in blankets and huddled in hoodies, sipping take-out coffees. It felt normal… which is the strangest part, because it still is so not normal.

    A new season of not normal.

    And I don’t know how to plan for that.

  • An Intro to Running with Dogs

    Another Sunday Runday, and for the last couple weeks one of my small run crew cohort has joined us on the trails with her faithful canine running partner. A two-year old collie, her human leader (one of my long-time running friends) has spent a lot of effort training the dog on harness and leash to run at a steady pace beside her.

    Which reminded me…

    A couple months before I kicked off this blog we welcomed a new addition to our household. The pictured pup is a little more than five months old, a Miniature Australian Shepherd, and full of spit and fire.

    I’m hoping she’ll be a runner some day.

    I’m hoping that this spring we’ll find out.

    It was specifically one of the questions I asked the breeder: How will she run?

    Oh, she’ll keep up with you. She’s not short on energy.

    All that said, we’ve done some quick sprints on our walks to give her a taste of moving faster than a stroll, but five months is too young to properly begin distance training with a dog.

    Most online research I’ve done on this topic suggests a puppy should be at least six months old to begin a proper training program, and (not coincidentally) her veterinarian just happens to be one of my running crew so I’ll be getting proper professional clearance before we begin.

    Still, running alongside a well-trained running dog this morning got me itching for the spring thaw… just in time to start thinking about how to introduce my favourite energetic pup to my favourite outdoor sport.