Michael: Green

The barren landscape
Of the volcano’s summit
Is pummeled by wind.

Monday, January 30, 2017

If I have to be unfortunate enough to replace a practically brand new pack that I really liked, now is the best time for it.

Why?

Because Kimme is in the states and by mailing it to her I won’t have to pay for shipping here, or customs or duty on it and that’s a substantial savings.

I was also fortunate that Running Warehouse had one Ultra Aspire Alpha 2 in my size left on sale. I haven’t used that pack but I do have the Revolt which I use for racing and am very happy with it.

One of my prerequisites for a replacement bag was that it carry a 2 liter bladder, otherwise I could just stick with my Osprey Rev 1.5. The additional 20+ ounces along with large front pockets that could carry an additional 20+ ounces of water will allow me to extend the time of my outings for much longer than I can with the Osprey.

And as a bonus, my size happens to be green. I know those things shouldn’t carry that much weight (pun intended) when making a substantial purchase, but aesthetics matter and I like green.

Michael: One of Those Good News/Bad News Days

The metal hinges
Squeak like Clint was standing there
Rubbing his whiskers.

Sunday, January 29, 2017

The best way for me to compile all that happened to is to keep it simple and go the chronological route.

Sunday, typically Kimme and I do one of two runs; the Quetzal or the Volcan-Baru trail. Kimme’s in the states but last week we did the Quetzal together so today I was going to have to conquer the volcano on my own. As kind of an tribute to Kimme though I stopped at the panaderia and got 4 of her favorite cookies to take with me as a replacement for my usual industrial strength Chips Ahoy knock-offs.

Beautiful day and I started up the road toward the trailhead at slightly after 10. That’s when the first odd occurrence took place. A ranger stopped me and asked if I was heading to the trail. Si. He took out his log book and had me fill in the info and pay the $3 fee. That’s the first time I’ve seen a ranger or had to pay to use this trail from this side of the mountain.

One good thing I noticed was that a “John” had signed in right before me. I figured it was probably the owner of American Flowers. A very nice man that has gone out of his way for Kimme and I. It was. I met him about the 3k mark. Seeing John always brightens anyone’s day who runs into him.

After the 4k mark I stashed my bag where I had before to do the final tough 3 kilometers sans pack. I took my small plastic wallet, the cookies and a 20 oz collapsible flask Kimme had given me for Christmas. I thought about taking my house keys but figured anyone coming down from the top, even if they saw my bag, wouldn’t mess with it.

I reached the peak in a P.R. of 2:45 which includes a 30 minute uphill road run to get to the trailhead. I was feeling pretty stoked until I got back to where my bag should’ve been but wasn’t.

There were 4 groups coming down from the top that I figure may have taken the bag thinking that some goof got tired and just left it behind and today was there lucky day. It’s not uncommon to see odds and ends scattered along the trail. Along with the fact that many novices come out on the weekend and aren’t at all familiar with the notion of caching anything, and… I blame myself for not hiding it better. Better yet, next time I’ll just haul it to the top with me.

Now the race was on. Could I catch up to all the groups that were now in front of me and may have bag?

No. I caught up to three of them, one of them even gave me some water and offered me treats, but the main suspects, a group of 4 young dudes had just driven off a few minutes before I got to the trailhead.

How do I know? At the trailhead was a very nice trail group leader from Panama City whom I met last year on a trail clean-up outing. A guide that I frequently see jogging in Volcan was also there and so was the Ranger that signed me in. All of them showed concern. The Panama City group leader said one of the persons in his group may know the guys who left and if so would contact them. Then the ranger would call me.

It was great that everyone was willing to try and help out. But I figured the pack was gone. My next concern was to get home as quick as I could and hope that my landlord and neighbor, Luzmila was there and could let me in.

As I started to jog down the road to the main road to catch the bus, I heard a flapping coming from my right shoe. I figured maybe a sharp rock or something was stuck in it. No. The sole under the heal was falling apart. These shoes, Hoka ATR 2s, I’ve run in less than ten times and was singing there praises earlier for making my feet so comfortable on a very fast trek up and down the volcano. But now they’re falling apart faster than my two year old original ATRs that I’ve used once a week for the two years we’ve been here. And the soles appear to be identical. Go figure.

At home, Luzmila was there and was very understanding of my having lost the house keys for the second time. I’ll make a copy tomorrow. My pack had a small notepad but that only contained my name and number so there’s very little worry of anyone trying to find our little cabin and breaking in. There are no addresses here and I seriously doubt they’re going to call me and ask. That would be great if they called and offered to return the pack though. I’m crossing my fingers but not holding my breath on that.

As a very nice little extra bonus, while I was talking to Luzmila, our neighbor’s dog whom we call Pup showed up. He hasn’t been coming around much lately and I felt bad that I didn’t have a treat for him. I’ll get some of those tomorrow after I make a copy of the key.

Lastly, I figured since I ran down the volcano with only 20 oz of water I could end the day with the scale also pointing in my favor. Yes. I was a dehydrated 144. I won’t stay there for long but it’s the lowest I’ve been since well before Christmas.

And there it is; the craziest volcano run I’ve had in two years of living here.

Michael: 1984, Burton and Hurt

Black, gold and moon blue
Wings softly fold in prayer
On the tree of life.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

1984 was a required read in one of my high school lit. classes. Along with a few other classics, it launched me into a deep appreciation of the sci-fi genre.  Sadly, in many ways, it’s popularity is rising once again.

Not only because one of Trump’s mouthpieces is talking about “alternative facts”, but because John Hurt, who brought the main character of Winston alive in the movie version of the book, just passed away.

Whether you’ve read the book or seen the movie, now seems a particularly poignant time to revisit them both. I still find it a little irritating that Richard Burton wasn’t at least nominated for best supporting actor. His portrayal of the compassionate/dispassionate Big Brother representative calmly working over what’s left of our decaying humanity represented by the ever dwindling Winston (Hurt), is the chilling cerebral opposite of Trump’s thugery.

Michael: A Bird in the Hand

Like a troll doll’s hair
A white cotton candy cloud
Spirals in the air.

Friday, January 27, 2017

This is the time of year to spot birders out on the trail. I never took note of any in Southern California, nor did I really take note of the various birds there. They all seemed kind of bland to me except for maybe the blue jays, which it turns out are really scrub jays. And that’s about how deep I can go into a birder conversation.

The birds, even around our little cottage, can be pretty spectacular. However,  a couple of times a year they present a problem that I don’t recall dealing with in the states. They occasionally fly inside the house.

Today, for example, a dove like bird flew in, saw me and started freaking out. And just like me, when I’m under stress and about to race and get in that flight or fight response, my bowels jettison their content to lighten the load. And there in lies the problem. Birds are great multi-taskers. They can take flight and take a dump all in one fell swoop, so to speak.

It’s not pretty and it’s again one of those small eye openers that I wouldn’t have thought much about before living here.

Michael: Neighborly

Listen to the lights.
They whisper to the rhythms
Of timeless angels.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

There are two types of restaurants in Volcan. No, not take out or sit down like in the U.S., but commercial or residential. Commercial establishments are purpose built as restaurants just like in the states. Residential restaurants are eateries where the proprietor, almost certain to be the owner/resident/cook/server, has sectioned off part of their house to serve as a restaurant.

Kimme and I generally choose to eat at the commercial restaurants because of both their location and, being vegetarians, we’re more likely to find items on the menu we can eat.

However, there is one small residential restaurant that is very convenient for us that we’ve walked past several times a week without ever inquiring about their menu. Finally we spoke to the owner and yesterday, after my run, I went there to test out their breakfast.

I should say her breakfast. The place is called Restaurante Itzel, because, yes, Itzel runs it out of her house.

 I got two eggs, two pieces of  crazy bread and a cup of coffee. But it’s not the taste, price or the down home atmosphere that made this visit special, it was the small town treatment.

When I went to pay Itzel she didn’t have change for a ten. She told me not to worry about it since I walk by all the time I can just pay next time I go past.

There’s no way that would happen in L.A. because the proprietor probably wouldn’t know me or would feel it was his responsibility to have change and ask me to wait while she gets it, or suggest where I could get change and comeback.

I’m not sure I can think of anyplace in L.A. that would’ve suggested, “Next time you pass by.”. I’m sure those type of relationships exist in Southern California, but I can’t think of the last time I was treated that way.

Michael: The Go Outside and Diet

Speckles in the black;
Lifeless white eyes refusing
Forever to close.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

We all eat so we’re all on a diet. My diet now is pretty decent and I’m a pretty fit dude as I approach 60. In the 60s growing up my diet was pretty much chosen for me and was designed for the convenience of working parents. It wasn’t all that decent; we had Ding Dongs, Ho - Hos, Tiger Tails, Big Hunks, Big Johns, Sugar Daddy’s, Sugar Smacks, small variety packages of chips, whole milk, industrial paint cans of Hi - C, and packets of Kool - Aid. Yet, from what I remember, we were still a pretty thin group of kids.

How’s that?

Simple:

1. We went outside to play without any electronics, food or water.
2. We stayed outside and moved for long periods of time.
3. If we got thirsty we drank water from a faucet or hose.

That’s it. Pretty straight forward.

I’m not suggesting a throwback diet to the good old aluminum foil and cellophane era. Whole foods are definitely the way to go, but we’re definitely not getting out there and moving like we use to and it shows.

Michael: Santa Clause's Trail Shoes

The airplane tail wing
Of the Great Tailed Grackle
Is a foreboding sight.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

If, after Christmas, Santa Clause were to say,  “All right, now that that’s out of the way. It’s time I lace up some trail shoes and start to work off this paunch.” What shoes would he where?

Wouldn’t you know it, I’m positive he’d wear the same ones he gave me for Christmas. Sneaky bastard. That’s my gig; giving people presents that if they don’t like them they can give them back to me and I’ll happily put them to use.

The shoes he gave me are the Saucony Xodus. And just looking at them in their red, green and black trim, you can’t help but picture the jolly man heading outdoors in these shoes.

Their motto is on the tongue - Run Anywhere. What’s suppose to make that possible is the huge Vibram lugs they’re equipped with; a grey harder compound that rings the perimeter of the outsole and an ever so slightly more giving black compound under the rest of the foot.

I have never run in shoes that are so threateningly lugged, or are as heavy. The well lugged shoes I ran in last year; the Asics Runagades and the Inov 8 235s come close in depth and lug strength of the Xodus, and though far lighter are also far less cushioned. They’re also much more pliable in the hand but I haven’t noticed much of a difference running.

The difference in weight reflects a difference in philosophy. The Asics and Inov 8’s rely on the soft ground to aid in cushioning, while the Saucony’s are leaving nothing to chance. And for a training shoe that’s why I’m liking the Saucony’s. Even when I run over trails that are plenty mushy, there’s still always long hard patches and some road in the way. And at the end of multi-hour runs I appreciate the extra cush. But they are quite a bit heavier and I definitely wouldn’t choose to race in them.

And the lugs are firm and meant to dig in, not grip hard, slick surfaces. Which anyone who expects that will quickly discover as they skate over large slick rocks. They’re trail shoes after all, not rock climbing slippers.

After two long runs in them I’m not giving these back to Santa. They’re comfortable and do what they were designed to do. The aesthetics are bright and cheerful and the price is right. My only concern is if the long sections of roads I run getting to and from the gunk will shave the cleats down quickly.
But it’s nice to be wearing a pair of shoes where the trails are more afraid of them than vice-versa.