Musings

The Zion training weekend

I’d love to be able to write down the following words: “I had a wonderfully productive training session while my family and I took a long weekend vacation in Zion.”

But, I can’t.

I had a great time with the family and that took precedence over all of my training plans, which included trail running in Zion National Park, riding my bike Chuley along scenic Highway 9, and taking the Coyotes for an extended skate while I admired one of the most famous vistas in the American Southwest.

The Coyote session was relegated to 20 minutes on Friday night. I skated in circles in the RV park streets, guided only by a few dim streetlights, while my wife watched the kids as they swam in the outdoor pool. I stayed warm focusing my energies on avoiding unseen obstacles while the kids, swam in the outdoor pool. It was 50 degrees outside yet the kids were undeterred by any chance to swim in a pool.

Saturday, the plan called for me to ride from the RV park to Springdale and meet the family for lunch. We would then drive into Zion and everyone would enjoy a nice hike for a couple hours. Well, the family was hungry and didn’t want to give me the hour head start on the bike. Being an adaptable chap, I said, “No sweat. I’ll put the bike in the truck and will ride back to the camp site after our hike.”

Long story short, the Head Coach was navigating and we missed the turn-off to the trailhead and ended up taking a driving tour through Zion. Although it was beautiful, we lost about 90 minutes. By the time we found the trail head and finished our fun hike, it was about 45 minutes to sunset and the rain started coming down. Opting not to test the abilities of my 17-year-old helmet against the sideview mirror of Winnebago at night, Chuley stayed in the truck while we drove back to camp.

Alas, Sunday was to be the day that all would be absolved of my planning sins. I would get up semi-early, drive down to Zion, and tackle the 5-mile Angel’s Landing trail. Guaranteed stunning scenery and a chance to meet one of the last-minute directives from Coach Ilg: Get some more time running on trails in prep for Mt. Taylor.

As I lay awake in the cramped RV trailer (we were once again staying with another family as guests in their camper), planning my morning escape, the fatal flaw hit me on the head like a giant turd from a bald eagle. It would take me at least two hours to get to the trailhead, run, and return. I would have my family’s bath gear and luggage. I couldn’t leave it at the campsite because everyone would be tearing down while I was gone.

I was P7′d* again.

The first little hill that started the run.

Not to be completely outmaneuvered by myself, I grabbed my running shoes, made a left from the RV park, and started hoofing it west on Highway 9 toward the town of Virgin. I figured I would go for 30 minutes, but that turned into 45 since I was feeling pretty good. A couple nice hills later, however, and my knees were starting to jones pretty good. I had to take a couple one-minute walk breaks on the return loop since the right knee was starting to have flashbacks to Soulstice.

As I type this, nearly 12 hours later, my right knee is sore as hell.

Oooof.

Time to replace the running shoes. I’ve had this pair since February and it felt like I was running in flip-flops today. Almost zero cushioning.

Do I have any regrets about the lost training weekend?

Nope.

I have my entire life to train. I only have a few more revolutions around the sun to spend this kind of time with my girls.

It’s all about balance, eh?

P7 = Proper Previous Planning Prevents Piss-Poor Performance

© 2006 The Outdoor Journey.