Our Capitol

With mid-term elections in high gear, it was only fitting to start a trip out east by visiting Washington D.C. for the weekend.

As a child, I visited D.C. a few times and did most of the touristy things: seeing the monuments, visiting all the tourist shops, seeing the cherry blossoms in bloom, etc.  This time around, Jessica and I got a more local perspective, thanks largely to wonderful friends wanting to really show us the city.  From explanations of the passive-aggressive license plates captioned "Taxation Without Representation" - a way to say that they aren't happy to not be represented at the national level - to dining at fabulous local restaurants to going to Halloween parties reminiscent of my college days, we really saw D.C. from a new, more non-touristy angle.

Oh Deer and Holy Cow are preparing for a night on the town!

Look at us, we're locals!  We're riding the Uber!

At a party in D.C.

After wandering lost, we used a Car2Go to get to party number two!

Catching up with friends is always awesome!

L'Enfant Metro Station

Touring the city at night.  It was blustery, chilly and quite quiet.

Of course, you cannot visit D.C. without being a tourist.  Thankfully, a kind friend took us around to show us what's what and allowed us to walk the monuments from the most efficient route.  Given the chilly, windy day, the efficient route was much appreciated!  

Just hanging with Teddy!

Washington Monument

Jefferson Memorial

Jefferson Memorial from a distance.

FDR Memorial

Vietnam War Memorial.

A late lunch at the farm-to-table restaurant Founding Farmers.

The architecture of the buildings is absolutely fantastic.

I'm pretty sure I saw this sweatshirt for sale 20 years ago in D.C.

The White House.  We had the opportunity to talk to one of Obama's detail people, Yapi, who informed us Wisconsin girls that the best barbecue he had was in Madison.  Woot!

North Dakota

North Dakota, it's been real, but we have to move on to Big Sky Country.  Actually, North Dakota, you are quite more than I thought you would be.

From the North Dakota Badlands to Theodore Roosevelt National Park to the wildlife, North Dakota is more than just desolate rangeland and western appeal, though there is plenty on both accounts.

We spent two days in Medora, ND, a quaint town priding itself on its old time Western appeal (they even have a Cowboy Hall of Fame--I regret not going) and the national park.  Unsuspecting as it may be on the map, this town is a mix of tourist trap and "real" town.  Though, the population certainly swells in the summer months, the number of lodging accommodations is a testament to that.



Theodore Roosevelt National Park is divided into the North Unit and the South Unit; Medora is located along the South Unit, and this is the only section we were able to visit.
The park's view gives way to breathtaking vistas of the badlands consisting of, as stated in the park's map, " buttes, tablelands, and valleys." Impressive and vast, dominating the landscape long after leaving the park.  The petrified forest is further evidence of the geologic history that took place to form the badlands.

Driving through the scenic roads of the South Unit, we saw many prairie dog "villages", wild horses, and a good number of bison, who like to roam along the roadside.  One thing I didn't expect to see was prickly pear cactus.  More on that in a bit.

Thankfully, while out on our trail run and our mountain bike ride on the Mash Daah Hey Trail, the only evidence of the bison was the piles of poop they leave behind.  It was only inevitable I'd end up some on my leg.

During our bike ride, the bison poop was not the only thing I brought back with me.  I also discovered pickers from the aptly named prickly pear cactus on my calf, presumably from a small tumble I took.

A Highway Perspective

We have crossed the Mississippi River!  This means that our 22 hour carride is now down to 17 hours.  That also means plenty of time fore to write this entry from my phone (read: expect typos).

Twenty-two hours in a car to our final destination doesnt seem daunting to me.  I love road trips.  When I was little, my parents were the the King and Queen of Road Tripping, at least in my humble opinion.  Once or twice a year, we would pile into our four door sedan, which was thankfully replaced by a minivan (while a minus for style points, it certainly was an upgrade to our comfort level), and trek to a far away destination.  The trips took us to Canada, Mexico, Washington D.C., Yellowstone, Florida, and other tremendous places throughout the U.S.

Though the trips were long, and sometimes made longer by my dad's "shortcuts", and oftentimes spent with me vomiting in the backseat, I still recall them with fondness.  Something about the latenight stops for snacks, the morning sunrises, the roadside scenery, and the creative games my brother and I devised to keep ourselves entertained--some of those games resulted in bruises--make the trip memorable and make the journey as exciting as the destination.  You stumble across great places you'd otherwise never visit, you try new things you may not have otherwise tried, and you get the see the country from state line to state line.  Also, road trips allow you to hang out with dinosaurs...

Here's hoping to another road trip with fond memories and off-the-script adventures.

Back to the Standby

Well, it must have been a while since my last blog.  The template has completely changed, and I'm feeling a little lost as to how to navigate the site.  I'll figure it out.  I hope.

The lack of blogging certainly isn't due to lack of adventures.  Since last blogging my trip to Marquette, I've been to some incredible places: revisiting Marquette in the winter, the Apostle Island ice caves, the Twin Cities, Colorado, and have traveled quite a bit throughout the state.  The biggest hindrance to writing in my blog has been dedicating time to do it.  Between training for mountain bike races, running, taking care of Guster, and working, I haven't been great about carving out time to do this.  With a trip to Glacier National Park coming up in six short weeks, I want to get back in the habit so I can do that vacation justice.

As I'm typing, I'm sitting in the comfy beige chair at my in-laws' cabin in Woodruff.  It's our standby get away destination.  Everything about being up north is perfect--the lakes, the trees, the trails, the food, the...mosquitoes (okay, almost everything is perfect).  Combine the northwoods with the summer solstice, and my inspiration to start writing has been revived.

The theme of this trip has been biking, biking, and more biking.  The singletrack up here is technical, rocky, and full of twists and turns.  Since Guster is obsessed with mountain biking, he tags along with us.  As soon as he sees our mountain bikes come down, it's persistent barking and prancing until we hit the trails.  Then, he zooms past us, taking the lead.  Obviously, we can't navigate the trails on our own.  With the trails being technical, it slows us down a bit and makes for a manageable pace for G.

In case you tire of looking at the trees and wildlife, the trails give way to scenic views of the lakes.  These are also great places to cool off on hot days, as G displays below.  Oddly enough, trading in the fatter tires for thinner tires and hitting the pavement doesn't mean a loss of scenery.  It just means different routes to take you to breath-taking views of lakes and forests.  Witches Lake Road has become one of our favorite roads for road biking.  It's hilly, windy, and leads to numerous lakes.  It's pretty obvious where the lakes are, you just have to look at the street names to determine which way to which lake.  Unfortunately, the rain picked up on our road ride, so I wasn't able to capture any pictures.

Small Victories

The impetus for this trip, according to Aaron, was to improve my skills and confidence on my mountain bike.  I've been mountain biking for about ten years, though, to be quite honest, I never really forced myself to go outside of my comfort zone until the past three seasons.  Once I started pushing myself, I realized that my skills were not what I thought they were; I lacked the skills and confidence to overcome the obstacles on the trail.

Fast forward to this week, and not much has changed.  My skills are still mediocre and I find myself signing-off on the more challenging parts of the trail before I even try them.  It gets frustrating.  I get upset for not trying harder, I feel defeated when I do try something new and fail.  It can get very defeating.  But, all of the riding I have done is not for naught.  Hills that I couldn't climb last summer are easy, I'm riding over rocky obstructions with relative ease, and I'm discovering that a simple "can do" attitude can go far in establishing success.

This doesn't mean that I'm going to be a world class mountain biker (thought I would consider myself to be quite the bad ass if I could achieve such a title), but I does mean that I'm getting better.  Incrementally so.  But, nonetheless, better.  If I got stuck on putting my rides under a microscope and nagging myself because I didn't try "x",  or failed at riding "y", or got stuck doing "z", I would feel that I never accomplished anything.  That isn't the truth.  The truth is that I've been successful at riding over a rock that I didn't do last last year and that I'm nailing hills that defeated me last year.  They're small accomplishments, but they're worth celebrating.

It's worth celebrating the small victories.  Maybe I'll never accomplish a full trail with 100% success because I know I'll always want to go faster, ride harder, and try new challenges;  but I did manage to do something that once made me wary.  If I ignore these small triumphs, I may be missing out on realizing that I'm improving and getting better.  Maybe riding over that rock is small, but it's still worth celebrating.  Small victories, one at a time, lead to a cumulative improvement.

Biking Marquette, and a Fall Preview: On the Road

I'm watching the fire from a dangerously close distance, able to see my breath and questioning my ability to feel my toes.  With weak cell signal and an inability to keep my fingers out of my pockets for an extended amount of time, but also with a desire to not fall too far behind on my posts, here's a short summary of our trip to Marquette.  All from the cozy comfort of campsite T6.

Blogging in the dark.

Upon arriving at our campsite, our new camp neighbors, from Louisville, KY, offered to make us margaritas.  Expecting the generic "from the bottle" margarita, we were taken aback when Stephanie prepared our margarita from freshly squeezed limes and oranges!

Goofing off at breakfast; we opted to grab some on the go rather than having to clean up camp.

Enjoying the view from T6.

Traversing Gorgeous Trail in Marquette.  This trail gives little room for error.

A rainy and very cool second night had us head out for some ice cream, because who doesn't want ice cream when they're freezing cold and soaking wet?!

Gus diligently checks out the scene from inside the tent.

Following a rainy night, we ditched the trails for the first half of the day and opted to scope out downtown Marquette.

Boats.

After a day of splurging on going out to eat (both at Sweetwater and at Donkers--where I indulged in an olive & nut sammie), we cooked at the site.  Hello, quinoa, blueberries, raisins, almonds, and honey!

Stumped in Southern Wisco

"What's our distance?" Wheelz asked ahead of me on the trail.

"We're at about 12.8 miles," Carrie called out from behind me.  "That's about one lap around a track that we have left.  A hilly, stump-infested track."

12.8 miles prior, Carrie, Erin (a.k.a. Wheelz), and I were standing at the start line of the Dances With Dirt Devil's Lake trail run, which features a 10K, a half-marathon, marathon, 50K, and a 50 mile run.  Clad in our running gear, complete with fuel belts, we lined up with the nine-minute mile group, ready to get on with our half-marathon.   Prior to the run, we agreed to stick together with the understanding that if one of us wanted to run ahead, that would be fine.   While each of us are runners, we have had varying degrees of training for this race.  Carrie signed up for the race just the Monday before, having had very few distance runs in the past few months.  As a mother of two children, most of her workouts happen sporadically, though she is naturally athletic and has done a trail race before.  Wheelz is an avid distance runner, with most of her training being on the road.  I am a recovering sporadic runner.  I did a half-marathon three years ago as a way to break myself of the bad habit of running like crazy for three straight months only to completely cease running for about the same period of time.  It worked, but it has taken discipline to keep my miles up and not slack.  My biggest handicap is living in the Fox Valley, where hills are minimal.

The nine-minute mile tape came down, signaling the start of our wave.  Slick, dewy, trampled grass underfoot quickly gave way to an uneven, sandy path.  After just a few hundred yards, we were under the cover of the forest and onto a single track trail--and starting to climb the first, obstacle-ridden hill.  Carrie, who has done a trail race before, checked in on our pace and sagely advised to slow down and conserve our energy for later.

After leveling out for a short stretch, we climbed again.  And again.  And...again.  Muscles in my legs that have not been activated in a long time were coming alive, much to my chagrin.  My breathing amped up, and, despite the cool start, sweat was pouring from my body.  It was these first few hills that set the tone for the race, and people in waves ahead of us were slowing down their paces, with some already resorting to walking.  Walking up the hills was sometimes more efficient as the pace of jogging was slow.  Secretly, I was relieved when the hills bottlenecked, forcing me to lay off my pace a bit.

Then, there were rocks.  Lots of rocks.  Uphill and downhill.  Wheelz, as her nickname implies, is a fast and talented runner.  These rocks even tested her, and we made the decision to walk the rocky sections.  There was no need to twist an ankle, or worse, before even arriving at the first water station.  It was at this point that the sounds of sneakers encountering rocks and roots amplified from both in front of us and behind us.  This is a sound we would become used to throughout the rest of the run, along with the site of fellow participants stumbling and tumbling when they lost the fight with the obstacles.  The big toes on my feet were starting to throb after they both found rocks and roots to tangle with.  Luckily, I was able to recover and stay on my feet.  (After sliding down a hill trying to access the port-o-potties prior to starting the race, I figured I didn't need to fall during the race, too.)  

As we crossed a road and approached a water station, I noticed that my labored breathing had eased and the run was feeling easier.  I remembered that the course map showed that most of the heavy climbing came in the first four miles of the run and we had just passed the four mile mark.  As we trotted down a flat trail, we came across the 50K and 50 mile runners heading in the opposite direction.  For me, running a half-marathon involved training and discipline.  Being in the midst of this caliber of runners made me feel this big.  Despite their much earlier start and grueling day ahead of them, they still offered us words of encouragement and praise.

With the distance runners out of sight, the elation of being on a flat trail faded as we came upon what seemed like a never ending gravel hill.  When we reached what we thought was the top, a man in a pickup truck waved us to turn right and told us "You're almost up the hill!"  Almost?  We thought we were up the hill.  Oh well, he told us we were almost up the hill, so what's a little more?  As we continued on our ascent, we started to question aloud what he meant by almost.

With the grueling, long climb behind us, we were greeted with a spectacular view from the top of a bluff.  The suggestions for what to bring during the race included a camera, and it's this scenery that prompted the recommendation.  We stopped for a few quick photo opportunities and continued on with the run.

Descending was not easy--rocks strewn across the trail made for slow progress, and we still had to face a few more climbs.  As we continued on, our running forms got sloppier and our feet started to drag, making our encounters with roots and rocks more frequent.  The trail suddenly looked familiar, and we realized with elated trepidation that the first four miles we had spent running uphill would also be our last four miles downhill.  Running uphill is a challenge.  It tests your endurance, strength, and ability to persevere.  Running downhill on a trail, on the other hand, may be less heart-pounding, but requires focus and agility.  The focus and agility were becoming increasingly difficult as our muscles felt the impact from the previous nine miles.  Additionally, slight decreases in elevation that we didn't notice during the first four miles became slight and noticeable increases in elevation on the way back.

At one point in the final mile, we slowed our pace significantly as roots and rocks presented significant obstacles to traversing safely down the trail.  What sounded like a stampede came from behind us as about ten runners came sprinting down the very hill that we were tiptoeing around.  We figured many of these runners were doing the 10K and had more energy and less foot drag at this point, making them feel more secure on these downhill portions.  Another possible theory is that this group of runners was much more versed in trail running than we had been.

Our memory from the beginning of the run was fuzzy and although part of the trails were familiar, we couldn't remember what came after them nor how far they were from the starting line.  Carrie's watch was also off in distance and what should have been the finish line according to the watch was part of a paved trail.  Turning off the paved trail, we could hear music and an announcer, making us just a few hundred yards from the finish line.  With the finish line in clear sight, and Wheez's husband running in with us, we kicked it in high gear and finished the race strong, all in line and all together.


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Below are a few pictures of a post-run hike at Devil's Lake State Park.  Clearly, we probably had enough steam to run a little harder :)