Carrigain In Crocs

Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Mount Carrigain - 4,680'
Pemigewassett Wilderness, NH
Outdoor Education Community Event
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There is nothing worse then having an amazingly gorgeous day to hike, and when you've driven a half hour out from home you realize that you've forgotten your hiking boots or shoes. So as I glanced down at my feet while Gilly asked if I wanted to turn around, I smiled and quickly answered that hiking in my crocs would be just fine. A silly notion for sure, but thats how it was about to play out either way.

Upon arriving in the parking lot off of Sawyer River Road, I noticed the vehicle of the infamous "HikerEd" sitting in the shade. Ed has hiked all 48 four-thousand foot mountains in NH some 49+ times. He's is a legend to most and a friend to many more. With a smile rivaled only by the cheshire cat himself, I couldn't wait to run into Ed and his group of hikers. While Gilly and Nate laced up their boots, I simply sauntered out of the car in my red crocs, smiled, shook my head and got ready to go.

As soon as we hit the trail I was able to see the kinds of problems hiking in crocs would pose for me this day. The bottoms of my indestructible shoe contained no traction as I've worn them clean and they slip and slide on the litany of fallen leaves. If I stepped in any mud, my feet would slide from side to side. There were pockets of standing water hidden under the leaves and given the holes in my crocs, if I accidentally stepped into one of these puddles, my foot would then be automatically soaked. Other then the aforementioned, hiking in the crocs was VERY comfortable and enjoyable.

The forest is mostly naked this time of year. The leaves are off of the trees and nestled into the cracks and crevices of the forest floor. This is both good and bad. While I miss the green canopy of summer, one is now afforded exceptional views typically unseen when the forest is full. We could hear the wind lightly dancing through the trees and the branches lightly rattled together. The higher we climbed, the cooler it got and on this magnificent day where the Valley Temps reached into the 50's, we were chilled by temps in the 30's up high. It is very much winter in these mountains, snow or not.

As we made it to the rocky switchbacks of the Signal Ridge Trail, we had finally caught up to HikerEd's group. They were resting and grabbing sips of fluids as well as enjoying a variety of snacks. Of course, I'm not one to turn down Ed's offer of chocolate. After introductions and a bit of jovial conversation, we decided to move along ahead of this group and make our bid for the summit. As we climbed ever higher, the conversation behind me got a little shorter and quieter. Gilly and Nate were doing an amazing job in keeping up with me, but it was obvious they were ready for some views.. especially since Gilly kept asking how much further it'd be.


And just as we'd leisurely walked into the woods a few hours before, we leisurely walked out into the sky. "Hey Gilly.. we're on the ridge.. enjoy." "Really?!" With as much excitement as she could contain, we all walked out onto Signal Ridge and enjoyed the views all around. And then, Gilly mentioned she thought it would be better. To this very moment I have no idea if she was being sarcastic in her expression about one of the finer views in the Whites. We took photos, paused for reflection, told more jokes and then pressed on to the summit. GIlly asked to here the story of the Waterman's.. I gladly told her what I knew from my research over the years.



In reaching the summit we climbed the old fire tower to take in the 365 degree views of these white mountains. 46 of the 48 4,000 Footers are visible from this peak. I had a hard time remembering the last time I had even been here. I was turned around in 2008 because of a thunderstorm... I think it was 2007 when I was here last with Sarah over the Memorial Day weekend. As the chilly winds blew across the summit, I thought back to the time I was here in Winter... and vowed to come back. After enjoying the views we decided to descend off the tower to eat our lunch. HikerEd and his group joined us on the top and all of us enjoyed entertaining the Gray Jays with some snacks to bring back to their nests.



After the feeding frenzy I sat down upon the stones under the tower and looked at the map. I asked GIlly and Nate how they felt about a bushwhack, they were all for it. SO I went over to HIkerEd and asked him if he had ever 'whacked off of Signal Ridge down to the Valley Below. He told me of a whack he'd done on the opposite side to bag another peak, but never what I proposed. We agreed that it would probably be open most of the way given the forest's nature. I agreed, took my group, and we headed back down to Signal Ridge. Once we reached the ridge, we glanced down off the steep side of the mountain and could see what looked like a large drainage down below. That became our target. Just as we were stepping off of the ridge, Gilly saw someone she knew (what else is new) and she said hello. Her friend's father gave us a puzzling look and asked if we were descending on a trail he never heard of, "Nope.. it's called bushwhacking... kinda like what hunters do." And with that, we slinked off of ridge, me in my crocs, into the unknown.


The upper reaches of the mountainside was a mix of thick spruce and deep deep moss. The moss was the most dangerous part. As it flowed over the stones and roots it did an amazing job of hiding many small crevasses, one wrong or unsuspecting step and your leg would easily fall a few feet down into nothingness. We played this delicate came for a short while as I led our group across the slope to the most open areas I could find. For the most part, we descended a few hundred feet before really getting into it with the forest. We then had a hell of a time pushing, pulling and of course weaving our way through the woods, but thankfully I was with the two most adventurous kids I could find. Laughing and smiling the entire way down hill, it seemed as though nothing was going to ruin the very spirit of our hike. We were having an amazing time engaged in adventure.


The hardest part for me was keeping my crocs on my feet. Every once in awhile one would slip off and I'd have to backtrack to retrieve it. I was thankfully for the copious amounts of moss that graced the mountain. Never once did I find a place to injure or compromise my feet, I was very pleased. I then spotted a more defined drainage off to our right, so I headed right for it. When I first got there it was easy to see that the thick intertwined network of branches made for a touch whack down through the rocks. I led us back into the woods for another 300 yards or so and we re-emerged out onto the drainage. It was wide open from here as we began to bleed elevation quickly. The further down we got the more open the drainage became.. and then... we found a rock slide.

We sauntered out of the thicker woods onto a wide open swatch of talus. It didn't matter where we stepped, the earth let go beneath us. Rocks slide all around us, carrying us down with it in a sulfur scented avalanche if we were not careful. Quick footwork was the key, which was hard in crocs, to make it down unscathed. With each step I took I felt the earth leave me, I ended up surfing down on the largest rocks I could find. As the tidal wave of rocks moved beneath me, others came down behind me, chasing my feet and as I stopped, I felt my ankles get pummeled from all angles with heavy sharp shards of rock... for some reason I loved it.

The further down we got, the larger the rocks got. As we scampered down I dove deep into my best Keith King impression. Keith is a pioneer of outdoor education and I had Gilly and Nate rolling with my dialogue. Our laughter echoed off of the rock strewn walls of the drainage we were in. ONe drainage after another filtered into the one we were in. Once small and almost unnoticeable, we were not walking down a pile of rocks wide enough to stick a two lane road into. We could hear the rushing of water close by as we started to grow annoyed with the constant rock hopping. Soon, water appeared to flow up form the earth and begin it's cascade downhill and eventually towards the ocean. Down lower we came to an opening to our right and upon pausing, I was taken a back by the sight of a magnificent waterfall. Water simply trickled over the edges of rocks. I'd love tobe back here during a heavy rain or after spring run off. It was amazing. Just up ahead, I noticed the river and drainage taking a hard right, it was time to duck back off to the left so back into the woods we go.

Once we scampered up the steep river bank, we entered into the forest of beechnuts and striped maple. This was moose country for sure with droppings a plenty. I wanted Nate and Gilly to get the true effects of finding their way out of the woods, so I pushed ahead at a quick clip. I kept them with ear shot while I remained mostly quiet in my travels. I found a HUGE fungi and left a story written on it, placing it neatly in the woods for another whacker to see... maybe some day. I eventually came to the trail where I settled myself down amongst the leaves and rested quietly while I heard Nate and Gilly thrash around amongst the brush. As I expected, they were drifting too far to the left while I sat to the right.. I hooted like an owl a few times to lure them towards me and it eventually worked. They emerged from the wood, unscathed minus a few scratches and holes in their clothing, but in the end... accomplished bushwhackers.

From here, we shuffled along through the leaves on our way out of the woods discussing an arrange of interesting topics, telling inappropriate jokes and even leading each other into hidden swaths of shin deep water (Thanks Gilly). I'm always ever amazed at the power of the Pemi. As we followed the old railroad bed back out of these woods, I was humbled to know once more than I am merely one walking amongst a forest of ghosts. But everything here in these woods contains a power beyond what is conceivable. Something here makes me feel whole again. Something here makes me feel at peace... something here makes me so alive. As we walked out of the woods, I was very thankful that I could bring at least two others to this place to perhaps experience what I do here... something beyond human... something real. Something.. amazing. I never asked them... but I can only hope within themselves they did.

When we reached the car I was jealous that they could slip into their crocs and be comfy. My feet were achey for sure! We saw Ed and his group huddled around his truck sucking down some PBR's. He offered us some libations to which we gladly accepted. We stood around and talked about this Grand and Magnificent place.. and I couldn't help but wonder what my next adventure here-in would be.. where to next..

Hiking in crocs wasn't bad at all. Some in the hiking community would scold me saying that I "need" or "should" hike in boots with ankle support. My response... you "need" or "should" live a little. Nothing in this life is black and white and you make your own adventures. Go out there and make some. Will I bushwhack in crocs again?? Not if I can help it!


Happy Trails
SJ

Attention Please....

Well here we are... November 2009. It's be an interesting and involving couple of months as you've likely seen here if you are a regular reader. No shortage of adventure and exploration. From Backpacking to day hikes. From The Vermont 50 to the Run Across New Hampshire. From a short race in the Wapack Range, to a bushwhack up the steeper slopes of Mount Lincoln in New Hampshires Franconia Notch State Park. It's been an amazing journey this end of the year, full of excitement, variation and adventures anew with life and intrigue. These last few months have seen a transition in not just my level and type of adventure, but the journey that lies ahead and the journey within.

I've taken a step back from my major at UNH in Outdoor Education and have been working diligently at my minor, Hospitality Management. The classes are demanding of my time and thought, nothing short of amazing, insightful and frustrating all at the same time. I've determined that I hate accounting almost as much as I hate EMT. However, back in the land of OE, I've been honored and privileged to play a pivotal role in resurrecting the Outdoor Education Club on Campus, changing it to focus on our community and presiding over it as well. Hours at work have dropped to a scant 3 hours a week for me, and with the holiday coming closer, I'm not going to get as many as I'd initially hoped for. But in the end, there's still running, still hiking, still adventure. Reminding myself that it's not so much about the finish, but the adventure has played an important role in it all as I keep plugging forward to that ever so distant finish line.

Depression continues to keep it's icy hold upon my mind this time of year. I have an easy time in thinking about where I was this time last year. This very week in 2008, I thought about suicide and dialed 911, saving my own life from imminent destruction. Two weeks later, I checked myself into a psychiatric ICU. Here in 2009, the journey towards recovery continues. I still carry with me a variety of demons and short comings. With the change in seasons and the depletion of daylight hours, my mind is ever more fragile yet my resiliency exists. In noticing the seasonal change and its effects on my thoughts and feelings.. I made extra appointments to see the necessary doctors, talked through the tough spots and increased my medication intakes. So far, in this journey, I'm ahead of the game in 2009 and the journey, here-in also, continues.

And now I welcome you again, to this blog, this place on the internet and ask you to lend me your eyes, your ears and your support. As this journey continues, I will not ask you to join me by cheering me on. I'll ask you to join me by asking you to get up off the couch, out of your chair and start running on your own. I've said it before, I'll say it again.. We are the authors of our own books, writing the pages in between. Now is the time to re-write your story, now is the time to create your own history. Now is the time to continue to discover our potential as humans. Now is the time to find that fire ignited inside, fuel the flames and move ever forward towards whatever tomorrow will bring. Tomorrow will bring what we want it to, it's up to me, it's up to you. Lets join in a magnificent journey together. A journey through today and into tomorrow. A journey based on dreams. A journey based on goals. A journey where once today has past and has become the yesterdays of tomorrow, we can look back and say with a magnificent smile that our story, our journey, is one worth reading.

Every year on my birthday I take the opportunity to sit back and decide if I'm satisfied with my life thus far; that if I died today, would I die happy. Last year I answered yes.. and this year, I turn the dial the other way and answer with a resounding no. Why? Because my story isn't finished yet. No.. my story is only beginning. I have unfinished business, dreams, goals, desires, wants, needs... I'm far from done writing my book and I'm not going to ever be satisfied until the day that I am. The day that will come where I can soundly write "The End" and be happy and courageous with the knowledge that the book is complete, the story has an ending worthy of happiness for not all but some.. and if at the very least.. for me. On October 20, 2009 as I turned 28.. I turned a new page and started a new chapter. The 28th chapter. The pen started writing, the story is being written. Chapter 27 ended with one hell of a struggle across 118 miles of cold winds, rain and snow. Chapter 28 is going to be filled with tears of joy, happiness, dreams accomplished, blood, guts, tears, dirt, water, wind, snow... and one hell of a journey.

And yet I sit here today and ask you for your attention please. Your attention to an answer I'l give one cowardly reader of this blog. A reader who left an anonymous comment in the days leading up to my Run Across New Hampshire where the coward asked if "Attention Motivates Me?" To the coward I said with as much honesty as I can let flow from these fingertips.. Yes my friend.. honestly in some ways it does. But you show me an ultra-runner who says it doesn't and I'll show you a liar. Why else would one subscribe to this self-masochistic freak show known as Ultra-running? Yes.. I will admit I love the attention, but not for the reasons in which your inquiry applies my cowardly friend.. no. I say yes because I enjoy the attention I get from family and friends.. those same individuals intrenched in this journey, held hostage by my inner thoughts and feelings. Those same individuals who one day told me that I was crazy for thinking I could ever run as far as I have. Those same individuals who didn't believe in the possibilities, the dedication I was willing to put forth.. those same individuals who look at me now and with astonishment, with jaws wide open, with silent mouths and clenched smiling lips, with tears streaming down face when I reach the rocks of an icy shore... the attention of those folks. Yes.. THAT ATTENTION MOTIVATES ME. Not because it was given to me.. but because I earned it. And instead, of writing in those pages of my book that they were right... I wrote in the pages that they were wrong.. and I was right and look at my sorry ass now. People who called me a joke, said to pay no attention to me because I was a no body.. and look at me now.. I'm still running after 5 years of negativity, after 5 years of doubt.. yes.. the attention motivates me.

So pay attention everyone.. the 28th chapter is just beginning. The pages are turning, the ideas are flowing and the goals are arriving before us. Either get on board or step off at the platform. I don't care if you decide to go, but I'd love to have you come along. I'd love to hear more about you all. Your goals, your adventures. I want to hear more about what you're doing today to create a better tomorrow. For YOU first, for the world second. I want to know what makes us all tick.. together. Because in 2010.. I'm going to need all the inspiration I can get. We have a monumental task in front of us.. but we're going to tear down these walls. We're going to stand up today and lead ourselves into the greater tomorrow. We're going to stand ready at starting lines and stand vigilant at finish lines. We're going to climb to 10,000 feet. We're going to run through rivers, across snow frosted peaks. We're going to see it all from sea to shining sea. This chapter is just beginning... welcome to the ride that is... HUMAN POTENTIAL.

~SJ

Lincoln's Throat - Swallow Hard

What: Mt. Lincoln and Mt. Lafayette
Where: Franconia Notch, NH
When: Monday, October 12, 2009
Who: Sherpa John and Bryan Mazaykia
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As a younger hiker I'd taken many trips up the Old Bridle Path to the Greenleaf Hut or Mount Lafayette. I'd glare out across the Walker Ravine and marvel at the scoured sides of Mount Lincoln. The peaks rise so steeply, creating the fabeled notch, that the earth has no choice but to let go of its grips, succumb to gravity and crash ever further into the valley. I specifically remember a trip just 6 years ago, where I'd stand amongst the rock outcrop where one is afforded their first views of the Fraconia Ridge. We stood atop the cliff and threw rocks down into the ravine, watching as they would explode and scatter into dust as they collided with other rocks and trees. This woman came up and scolded us, telling us "Someone could be down there." I remember laughing.. hard.. glancing down into the green abyss and thinking, "Yeah right.." Flash forward to 10.12.09 and here I was.. in the valley hoping someone else wasn't being as ignorant as I and chukcing stones below.

Bryan and I drove up from UNH early in the morning. As we watched the rising sun cast it's shadows amongst the hills, our first views of the ridge from Ashland did not look promising. A veil of clouds had encapsulated the ridge and I knew rime is was being encrusted onto every surface up there. We parked in the Lafayette Place lot, (Southbound), then walked under 93 and headed up The Old Bridle Path to where the Falling Waters Trail verges off to the right. From here, we'd walk just a little further up the trail to where it takes a hard left. We wandered off into the woods on the straight and narrow, following the river along a well trodden herd path.

What started out as an obvious fishing route soon turned into an all out logging road, or at least the appearance of being a logging road. The birch allowed us to have amazing line of sight through the forest as we followed a well established path ever higher up the river bank. Eventually, we'd be forced to cross as the terrain grew steeper and the ravine deeper. This herd path went on forever and ever all the way up until we reached a form in the river. Here we had to choose to go right or left. Left would climb Lafayette, and right climbed Lincoln's Throat. We veered off to the right and our breath was taken away.



The clouds continued to tickle the tops of the peaks on high but as they cleared, we could see the magestic white rime ice that had encassed everything up high. The contrast of white above the leaves with a mix of gray skies and clear blue made for a spectacular fall display of color. The rocks kept getting bigger and bigger the higher up we went and as water trcikled down the mountain-side, it froze upon the stones, causing us to slip and slide from time to time. Travel was growing treacherous through we continued on.

Soon we reached the true run-out of the massive slide and glared ever higher wondering how the hell we'd ever make it up there. The slide continued to grow steeper and steeper and icier and icier. Then all of sudden we went from being in a world of gold, orange and reds (Autumn) to a world of white and chilly winds (Winter). It was hard to not stop and take it all in. Just enjoy the earth for the beauty it possess's. We came upon sections of rock slab which were difficult to negotiate. It was actually rather time consuming. Every time we came upon a section of slab, we had to carefully hone our eyes in on the sections of ice, and place our feet on what little areas of bare rock existed. This practice was dangerous and nerve racking. As I was doing so, I'd look down and have an opportunity to realize just how far down I may travel if I slipped. At times, Bryan just gave up on the rock and headed into the tree's. He'd come out up high, soaked from the rime and snow he shook off the trees and carried with him.

Finally, we arrived at the Head Wall of the slide. We'd followed herd paths and man-made cairns just to get here.. and see this. It was magnificent! Ice was all ready forming thickly down it's sides, of which I am certain excites the ice climbers of New England as this is one of more talked about routes. The wall was about 45-50 feet high, straight-up, and ominous looking. Like the gates to a hidden castle, we stood in front with our jaws wide open, awe struck by it's mystery and splendor. Without ropes, crampons or any other necessary gear to climb the wall today givent he icy conditions, we search for a way around. The the right is another long wall of rock and ice, too steep to be negotiated. To the left, our only option existed, a steep climb up a rock face with about a 75-80% grade/angle. Bryan led the way...



At first we tried our best to climb the rocks, I wished I had my rock climbing shoes and a harness. It was steep, terrifying and a testament to knowing your surroundings and tuning into your senses. I tried my best to follow Bryan's lead.. he is a much better climber then I. Soon I heard him say, "turn back." "What do you mean?!" "There is no where to go up here. It's all ice, a dead end.. I'm coming down." Bryan climbed down and soon caught up to me while I tried to negotiate the rocks. We searched for a few ways of getting across the slab, and after a few failed attempts, we finally found a way, thought risky, over to the safety of the spruce. From here, we clawed and crawled our way through thick spruce, so thick that you couldn't see your feet, where you were going and was only awarded with sporadic fews to our backsides. It was crazy thick, yet, not the thickest I've seen in the whites. We shook more rime off the trees, got spruce needles down our backs and fought our way ever higher. Bryan was a tad frustrated, while I sang songs and whistled along. I was in heaven.


Finally, we topped out on top of Mount Lincoln, stood on the Franconia Ridge trail and stared down into the never ending ravine below, dumbfounded by what we had just accomplished. We made it and it was a hell of an adventure, not for everyone, but perfect for us. We sat down amongst the stones on top of Lincoln, soaked from head to toe, covered in spruce and ate our lunch. We bundled up and carried on to Lafayette before heading down the Old Bridle Path. We stopped in at Greenleaf Hut to listen to the banter of fellow hikers. I was annoyed.. and needed to leave here if I heard one more foul slur for Owls Head. I think some of these peak-baggers need to suck it up a bit, Owls Head isn't hard at all.. it's just a longer day then they are used to. Yet I digress. We enjoyed left-over desserts, some lemonade and then we took off. When we got to the rocky outcrop I spoke of at the beginning of this report, I stopped to again glance out over the ravine and we looked at what we had accomplished... and we both stood there, silently, scratching our heads wondering how the hell we did.




From here I asked Bryan if he wanted to run, "It's only a 10 minute run to the car from here." We strapped everything in and down and headed off down the trail running as comfortably as we could in boots. We made it to the car in 13 minutes, I was off. However, funny story.. on the way down we passed a small group of children and their parents. They were playing tag. As we ran passed, I got tagged as one of the kids mistooken me for one of their own. As I reached the head of the pack, I tagged them and said, "you're it." About 8 minutes later, Bryan and I reached the car when a small boy came running up to me. "Hey, you the guy that was running down the mountain?" "Yeah" He tagged me and said, "You're it." I got a HUGE kick out of this as I very much enjoyed the power and spirit of our youth.. especially in the mountains.


Lincoln's Throat... complete.

~SJ

McDougall-ed

Over the last few days I've had the distinct privilege and honor to play host to Chris McDougall here at the University of New Hampshire. Chris is a former AP War Correspondent, a writer for Men's Health and a New York Times Best Selling author for his book "Born To Run." Chris and I had exchanged various e-mails with each other, as runners, just a few months ago and in conversation, I asked him to come to UNH to share his experiences with the community. I won't discuss the details in getting Chris up here beyond saying that, Beer is a magical tool of the trade.

Chris hoped on a 4-am flight yesterday morning then drove to UNH Durham, about an hour drive, at which point I ushered him immediately into a classroom filled with the UNH Freshmen in our Amped Up program here on campus. He spoke to them about his travels in working for the AP, Men's Health, Runnersworld and now as an author. His talk was both engaging and insightful serving his freshman audience well. He left ample time for the students to ask questions and engage him and I really feel that his sense of humor is what works best when Chris Speaks. In the end.. he was both humble, intelligent, well prepared and accommodating.

I wanted to get Chris out for a run yesterday, but an overdue assignment saw him locked up in his hotel room at The New England Center. Once I was done running instead and Chris done writing, we treated him to dinner at Holloway Commons, the universities flagship dining hall. Imagine that, here I was at UNH, walking a NY Times Best Selling author around campus and now having dinner with him.

After dinner we went over to the Memorial Union Building where we welcomed the folks from Barnes & Noble Booksellers in Manchester. (Chris is there signing books tonight!!) Chris then sat down in a chair at a table and patiently greeted every person who wanted to meet his acquaintance, he listened to them, engaged with them and signed their books, tickets or whatever. Then he spoke to an audience of 104 for about an hour before entertaining questions for another 45 minutes. His talk was amazing. Lots of laughter, an engaged audience, insightful questions... after the presentation Chris told me that UNH Provided him with one of the best audiences he had during his 6 month tour. We all had an amazing time which was again followed by Chris signing books until everyone in attendance had their chance.

I drove to campus this morning and picked Chris up at his hotel. We drove to A Lot, I put on my running gear while he bounced around in 30 degree air (he's not used to this kind of cold yet), and then we took off. We ran through campus and then into college woods. Chris was wearing a pair of vibram five fingers. He stubbed his toe hard a couple of times, each time causing him to have to catch his breath... but Chris kept his cool (literally), ran 6 miles with me before I had to bail and go to class.

I just really want to thank my friend Chris for coming to New Hampshire and providing all of us here at UNH and the surrounding communities the opportunity to meet him and hear him speak. His book is inspirational, insightful and in my opinion and important read. I also want to thank my advisors in the Kinesiology: Outdoor Education department for supporting and hosting the talk last night. I also want to thank all of those who came out to hear him last night, it was an amazing evening and one of those moments that helps get me right back out the door.

Here is to goals, dreams, aspirations... and checking dinner and a run with a NY Times Best Selling Author off of my Bucket List. THANKS CHRIS!

~SJ

McDougall To Speak at UNH

Christopher McDougall: Born To Run

Tuesday, Nov. 3 - MUB Theatre II

at The University of New Hampshire

7-9pm

Christopher McDougall’s bestselling new book, Born to Run, examines the fabulous athletic feats of the Tarahumara Indians of Mexico's Copper Canyons and delves into breaking research that humans -- all humans -- are potentially the greatest long-distance runners on earth.

“"Born to Run" is an examination of sport, an allegory of cross-cultural understanding and a catalogue of philosophies of living.”
~Dan Zak The Washington Post

Tickets are on sale now For just $10

By visiting the MUB Ticket Office at UNH, by calling (603) 862-2290 or by visiting the MUB Ticket Office online http://www.unhmub.com/ticket/

Barnes and Noble will be in attendance with copies of the book for sale.

Chris will be available to sign copies post lecture.

RR: 2009 RANH Part 4

This is PART 4, and the final Part, of a Series
To Read Part 1 CLICK HERE
To Read Part 2 CLICK HERE
To Read Part 3 CLICK HERE
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The Perfect Storm

The three of us walked up the slight incline of the old General Sullivan Bridge. The rush of the Route 16 traffic flies by on the newer bridges to our left. Turbulent salt water continues to fill the Bay. When this process occurs, it creates a current so fast that you can only find a current so strong in 2 other places on earth, or so it is reported. The process repeats itself as the tides flush out. The wind whips out of the North East now, my face is weathered, beet red, drenched and cold. Snow mixes with the rain more frequently now. I'm done drinking, I'm done eating, I'm nauseas I'm tired yet I'm still moving forward. As we run across the bridge it's easy to glance down to the ocean below as we run over the connecting pieces. It's scary yet the bridge is big enough to allow us safe passage. Usually birds perch upon the green steel, but as the wind howls today, there are none.

As we make our way through Newington towards Portsmouth, I couldn't help but sink into a trance. The chaffe is so bad that it's been bleeding.. since Northwood some 24 miles ago. It stings, burns and is just overall killing me slowly. I shuffle my feet ever forward, knowing that the rubber soles of my shoes are all but gone on my heels and I'm now rubbing off the foam base of the footbed. I slip into a trance, concentrating intensely on putting the pain out of my mind, the discomfort, the chiling rain and snow when all of a sudden I start seeing a light fog rolling across the road. I'm hallucinating, losing it, finally going out of my mind. My equilibrium is thrown off and I stumble a bit and feel like I'm missing steps as my mind lunges forward down the road at a speed my body cannot possibly follow. And then, I hear a voice, "Hey Kid.. you OK?" I look to my right and see a female figure running beside me. My initial thought is, "Who the hell is this?" and then I realize it's Julie. Julie who has been running with me since Epsom. "Yeah.. .well, no. I'm losing it. I'm going out of my mind Julie. I'm all out of sorts. Hallucinating and all kinds of crap." She replies, "Yeah.. my equilibrium is off.. we're almost done though." As she herself starts to fall into a rough patch, she is mindful enough to keep pushing us down those final miles, with TJ quietly in tow.

We avoid the puddles when we can as we run down Woodbury Ave and then I lead us behind the Shaws to a lesser known trail. We walk silently through the woods and when we emerge we see Eastern Mountain Sports Portsmouth. We notice the crew waits under the canopy for us to appear from the other direction. They've no idea I've taken the run this way. I see no need to have gone to the light then backtracked. We arrive at the store front where I drop my pack, they turn around and though surprised, jump right into action. "Soup, Grilled Cheese, Drinks, Soda? What do ya need?" Josh asks once more. I'm so tired of the question, more tired of the choices yet I marvel in the amazing job he continues to do, all smiles, awake.. and willing to help these runners get to the ocean. A reporter from Foster's Daily Democrat saunters over and begins asking me a series of questions. You can read his work by CLICKING HERE.


I gaze around at all those who have assembled. The crew is here still bringing me hot chocolate in last ditch efforts to keep me fueled and warm. My co-workers come out of the store to give me a hug and congratulate me for making it this far in such terrible weather. My vision is blurred and foggy. I feel distant, not here. People ask me how I'm doing and I reply, "I am really losing my mind now.. I'm out of it. It's time to finish this and go home." The crew agrees as we munch on banana's, sip hot cocoa and entertain the reporter some more. It turns out the reporter, Geoff, is a fellow team-mate of mine on Acidotic Racing. He was very friendly, professional and I admired him all ready. He went ahead to find a location for some good action shots for his story. I told the crew to saddle up, asked Maggie if she was ready to join us, and a party of 4 runners walked from the EMS parking lot on the way to completing the last 6 miles of a very long journey.



When we reach Portsmouth I try playing out in my head which way to go through town. It's different trying to negotiate these streets when you're used to seeing them by car. "You ever been to Portsmouth Julie?" "Never.." "Lot's of History here.. pretty old school, Enjoy." We wind our way through the tight downtown streets of Portsmouth still decorated with colonial trim and colors. We run past dozens of shops, bars, restaurants. Many people are out milling around under umbrella's, bundled up, having no clue who we are or where we've come from. The coffee shop in Market Square is jam packed, as it always is, with people pressing their faces to their laptop computers sipping caffeine and otherwise continuing the traditions of an artificial life. I'm so happy to be out here.. in the cold wet world shuffling along down the brick lined sidewalks of a 400 year old city. Then suddenly, we're lost.

I knew where we were, had an idea of where to go but given my level of mental awareness I really had no idea if I was right or not. I began to worry and process it all out in my head. I see the Police Station and city hall up on a hill. I feel like thats where I want to be, but I'm so unsure. I feel lost and I begin to panic. I call the crew and ask for directions, I hear them whip out a map and try to guide me in to them. I'm moving so slowly that I feel like I'm not making any progress. My throat swells and my eyes well up with tears. I'm so frustrated, so spent, and yet I find out that I am indeed where we need to be.. only we took a longer way to get here adding 2 miles back onto the journey.

We approach the mobil that sits at the intersection of Routes 1B and 1A. The crew is here waiting for us. They've parked under the Gas Pump Canopy, trying to stay dry. The wind comes down in sheets, it's been pouring for awhile now, the wind whips, the snow mixes in and the temp continues to drop. I take off my yellow Jacket and Sarah hands me a clean Team Sherpa Shirt, the same one I've worn at every race for the last 2 years. I keep my North Face Flight Series jacket on and pull my shirt down over it. I feel like Clark Kent, I'm me again, I'm whole. I put my hat back on, my gloves.. everything is simply soaked, even my feet. I look over and see Loni suited up again, "What are you doing?" I ask her.. "I'm going to run the last 2 with you." I'm super excited that she's decided to come on out for this and now we're back to a group of 5 and head out onto the road one last time.

So here we were running down one last stretch of road. The heavens openned as the rains and snow continued to fall to the earth. The winds pummeled us from all directions, swirling about. As cars drove by they kicked up a frigid spray complete with road grime and miscelaneous particles. I started to look back on this adventure and try if I may in these final moments put it all into perspective. What started out as a frigid run on a chilly autumn morning, evolved into a journey through a Kalaeidescope of color underneath a veil of bright blue, sparkling space and humbling grays. I had run across an entire state and experienced a part of both its humble yet meager beginnings and it's bold and brazen futures. I'd experienced it's people once more, heard their good tidings, reveled in their laughter and scowled in their tough exteriors. Yet above all else, I came face to face with the part of this state that always is terbulent, it's weather and waters; and as I ran towards the shore I reminded myself how the beast reared his ugly head for many many miles yet I still soldered on, fearless to the inevitable and yet possible and sought the finish line.

I had no idea what to expect in running across New Hampshire this year. I only decided to do this 3 weeks prior, and with little to no preparation, just faith in my inherent an acuired abilities through the years, I stepped to the pavement on a frigid October morning with a mission to simply run East. I struggled with the idea of making this 125 Mile adventure into a mere 118.5 yet I cared no in the end. As I ran these final miles, I kept in perspective what the ultimate goal had been; to experience the state, it's land, it's people and to carry the river to the sea. I had no waist bag through these final strides, I had what I needed in my left hand and as I swung my arms up and down to help propell me down the leaf covered, ran slick road. I had that tiny vial of water I filled at the Connecicut River over 34 hours ago and I had run it all the way to the Gulf of Maine.

The biggest thing that I experienced this weekend which towers above all comparable thoughts, is the thought of the people whom came out to enjoy this journey with me. In the end over 30 people had come out to cheer us on at some point during this run, a respectable number providing the humble grassroot nature of the journey. I watched as they appeard hand in hand, arm in arm.. together, smiling, laughing, intrigued and helpful towards the mission. From bringing soup or cocoa to an extra blanket. To provding a smile a hello or just to share a few miles. To provide company, conversation or to give a lift. To hold me up and guide the way, to say hello to those driving the same distance in support.. or simply to just exist vicariously through the adventure, it is hard to not humble one's soul.

The Finish
As I near the bridge at Odiorne I get hard on myself. Disappointed that I'd cut miles off the adventure. Upset at how much I'd actually walked to get here when this was supposed to be a run. Angry at how long it took me in the end. At a point in time when I was supposed to be victorious, I was defeated. We cross the bridge and up ahead I see a figure running towards us. "That must be Gilly" I say and soon enough, I see that it is. With a huge smile she comes running towards us, "Hey buddy.. you made it!" I give her the best answer I could, "I suppose I did" with every bit of disappointment that I could muster into the sentence. In the background I could hear a rushing noise and I thought, "Where is the river around here?" I looked out across the Salt Marsh and see only the rain and snow continue to come down in sheets. The wind falls silent, I slip back into a trance as my eyes focus on simply whats ahead of my feet.

I kick it into gear and painfully fall into one last sprint. I run as fast as as hard as I could. I can hear the others with me trying their best to keep up with me. I have no idea how close or far behind they are.. I'm zoned in on being done. We take the turn up the driveway when I notice I'm ahead by about 10-20 yards and I kick it in even more. As I crest the tiny hill and run past the front gates of the State Park I glance into the parking lot to see virtually no one. Just me, the 5 with me, a huge area of pavement and 4 cars. In the distance I see the crew jumping in the air and waving their arms. They jump and wave and yell, "Yeah John! Wooo hooo!" I can hear them, but how come I don't feel the Woo Hoo? I look left and see a small group walking out of the Seacoast Science Center and as I focus in on the bright orqange jacket on the bearded young man.. I realize it's more of my friends from the Outdoor Education Department. My sails had been blown out and once again.. my ship had come in. I was psyched to see them.. such a surprise.

I walked slowly down the parking lot, waiting for them to join us near the beach. I car comes driving by and Karen, Marketing Director for the Center steps out with a camera. She snaps a few shots and congratulates me. I cross past the gate and hug Sarah.. the crowd follows me as I wave them towards the sea. I walk down the trail to see a Finish Sign erected amongst the rocks. I cross out onto the jumble of stones. The tide is out yet huge waves continue to crash against rocks and walls in the distances. That rushing "river" I had heard was actually the turbulent waters of the Atlantic, stirred by the force of the Nor'Easter. I stepped to the top of the small hill, raised my arms into the air and yelled on the top of my lungs "Yeahhhhhhh!!!!!" We did it... we made it again. Across the entire state of New Hampshire, one painful step at a time. And in that moment, I took the vial from my left hand, unscrewed it's top and turned it upside down, releasing the river into the Gulf of Maine. Mission accomplished... again.


"He who chooses the beginning of a road chooses the place it leads to. It is the means that determine the end. " ~Harry Emerson Fosdick

Sarah gave me her coat and after a few photos with friends, we head inside the Seacoast Science Center to a small reception theyv'e assemlbed for us. I sit gingerly into a chair, eat Apple pie and sip Apple Cider from a mug. They thank me for helping them during this journey, a show of gratitude to which I know not what to say. To date we've raised over $500 for the Center and I ask those of you reading her to consider donating still. You can do so by CLICKING HERE I hope you will. They service in education that they provide our young children is important. It is my hope that through this journey and through their journey we all can learn to teach our children what possible is rather than what is IMpossible.

Huge thanks to the 30+ individuals who came out to support the run. I really could not have done it with out you. Thanks to Nate for his friendship and guidance through those early miles. Thanks to the ladies for guiding me through the night. Thanks to Julie for hanging tough during the worst of times and special thanks to the crew.. who remained awake for longer then I did in ensuring we make it to the ocean once more. Many times in this report I mention my lack of motivation to accomplish the task at hand.. I hope in the coming months, with my new set of goals, my desire to run, dream and achieve will help dispell the demons of depression that still live within my soul. I didn't have to run across New Hampshire again.. but deep down within my heart.. I wanted to. Not for me.. but for the people and the relationships akin.

~"Sherpa" John Lacroix

RR: 2009 RANH Part 3

This is PART 3 of a Series
To Read Part 1 CLICK HERE
To Read Part 2 CLICK HERE
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A Miles To Go Before I Sleep...
Not far down the road from the Epsom circle is a rest area on the right. We ran into the small parking area and I hopped back into the passenger seat for another quick 5 minute snooze. The car is so warm as Sarah has the heat blasting. So far my crew has done an exceptional job of conversing with me and trying to keep me awake. My pacers are amazing, yet their best is yet to come out. They talk to me, they talk to each other.. we laugh, we share stories... we just run. But as the night wears on it gets increasingly tougher to keep my eyes open. As we moved along my head would slump forward and I'd wake myself up. Kind of like the same nodding action one would have while sitting in their chair at home watching Sunday Football on a rainy afternoon. Sunday Football... on a rainy day is what was to come.. and I was certain by now that I'd still be out here somewhere. Somewhere traveling East on this endless road. After 5 minutes, they drag me out of the car and get me back out onto the road so I may continue the journey home.

As we continued out onto Route 4, we reveled in the splendor night can give. The trees and distant hill sides are merely shadows across the land. There was no moon which allowed the thousands of stars to glisten high above. On this stretch of road, the lack of light pollution really allows the night to be dark and the stars to shine. But my eyes are closing to the point where I really do begin to fall asleep. A few times I remember stumbling forward and waking up before I stumbled forward enough to fall on my face. Eventually, I'd fall completely asleep.. while on my right Gilly would wrap her arm under mine, and on my left Julie would do the same. Loni ran behind me to ensure I did not fall backwards.. and this is how it went. Running is a perpetual motion and at some point the brain slides into Auto-pilot. Left right repeat.. like a metronome I stagger forward down the road while the two women hold me upright and simply allow my feet to do what work they can. They try to have conversation with me but it is no use.. I'm sleep running as the miles and the time clicks on by.

As we duck into the various aid stations, I vaguely remember now how they went. We stop at the Northwood Mobil for a quick break before the long run up past Johnson's. As we make our way onto Route 4 and run past the famous Dairy Bar, wind whips across our faces and chills our bones ever so slightly. The girls continue to encourage me to keep running. I get sleepy again and Gilly comes close, "Close your eyes bud." I have complete faith in my friend as I close my eyes and allow her to lead the way. As we run into the Parking Lot at Coe-Brown, we both get into the car and sleep for another 20 minutes. I'm losing time yet time is not of the essence. I remember that this is not a race, it is a journey. Some will question me later, "Did you sleep" and the answer will have to be yes. I guess I'm not good enough anymore... I'm a chicken, a bum.. I'm letting myself down laying here in the car so many times. It's freezing outside, when the door opens I shiver again. I want to go home yet I want to go on. I sleep in shifts, I sleep when I run yet I refuse to quit... I rise once more, and the ladies lead the way. "The sun will be up soon John.. just keep going" Julie explains in a motherly voice. She was so warming and comforting. This is just what I needed at this time, and I realize as we run down the road that these 3 women are saving my life, they are saving the run.. and if I make it to the Ocean it will be mainly because of them.

I sleep-ran down route 4 for what I thought was 10 minutes. The sun rises once again and I finally snap to. I feel great, I'm moving again, smiling, joking.. I'm alive. I tell the girls, "Man that was the longest 10 minute Nap." "John.. it was more like 3 hours." I was so disappointed. I had burdened these women for 3 hours. As if running this great distance was hard enough, I troubled the greatly by trusting them with my life, my safety. Keeping me up right and out of what little traffic drove by. I felt terrible.. yet we were still moving forward.. All of a sudden a car drives by and it slows down.. it's Chris Dunn from Acidotic Racing, "Hey SJ! Way to go bud.. keep it up! We'll catch up with you," referring to his wife Karen, they turn around and head back East. I look up and see that it's a cloudy morning, I never saw the clouds move in and leave the earth overcast. I knew it happened while I was sleep running. The storm is coming.. and I'm running right into it.

Meanwhile we run into the Irving Station in Northwood and I opt for a pit stop in the bathroom. I enter the store with my can of Bag Balm and the last rubber glove. The clerk looks at us as asks, "Is this some kind of special walk? I saw you folks walking this way up the road.." I kind of smirk as I look at her, trying to calculate the best response. "Actually.. I'm running across New Hampshire for the Seacoast Science Center. I've just run here from Vermont... started yesterday at 6 am and this is Mile 90." There is a long pause and she looks at me after tilting her head, "it's only 90 miles to Vermont from here??" It was hard to not laugh at her as I walk into the bathroom. The magnitude of the run had gone completely over her head.. which is to be expected. Even the Police in Epsom had no idea.. nor understood. Such is life.. I guess it had been a kind of special walk.. and from her to the end it was about to be too. The chaffe has overtaken the run, and the level of joy physically is long gone.

The Sherpa Shuffle
We leave the Irving and continue on. The main goal right now has been broken down to, "Make it to Lee." Lee is the 100 mile mark and I'm seriously considering quitting. My achilles tendons are so tight that they no longer flex. My feet are fixed into the same position and I clop down the road like an injured horse. My quads are fine, my calves have gone numb. My feet pulsate with every heart beat. The chinese believed that the nerves in your foot are the gateway to the entire body.. I'm starting to agree. I can only muster up a "Sherpa Shuffle" as we continue down the road. The soles of my shoes are wearing down to almost nothing. These shoes that are so over used, that my toes are poking out the sides. The next few miles afford us a few downhill sections which allow me to lean forward a bit more and easily stumble ahead. I still fall asleep, and Gilly allows me to close my eyes one last time. These ladies have been nothing short of heroic, I know owe this run to them and their diligence in getting me ever forward. At Mendum's Landing, we stop and I walk to the car. I get in the passenger seat for one more 5 minute nap when a van comes driving in. A man gets out, puts his hat on and say's hello the the crew. It's my advisor from School, Michael Gass. "Resistance is futile" I explain as I crawl out of the car and barely stand outside. I have another grilled cheese sandwich and immediately engage in conversation with Mike. I now have an excuse to keep going..


As we head back out on 4 we see 2 runners coming ahead from up the road. I knew it was the Dunn's finally coming back to join us on our run. They file into the group, which once was 4 is now 7. We stick to the breakdown lane as Chris engages me in some wonderful conversation about the running club he runs and I proudly belong to, Acidotic. We talk about how the year has gone, the year to come, others on the team. We even manage to crack a few jokes, happy that if I have anything left its my sense of humor. I lost my sanity long ago. Hardly believing that I'm still moving, I listen in to the other conversations around, and try to include as many people into the ones I'm having as possible. We come to the big downhill into Lee and I push it as best I can. As we get to the Lee traffic Circle Mike exclaims, "Hey.. can we go through the center? We've gotta go in the Center!" "Why?" I say with a twinge of attitude. "Because I've never been there.." "OK Mike.. let's do it" We run into the center of the circle and as we get there we all look around. Mike exclaims, "Isn't this great?! What an adventure! What an experience!" I knew exactly what he was getting at as a huge smile gleams across my face. Yes Mike... it certainly is a great adventure. We stop traffic as we cross route 4 and head into the Dunkin' Donuts. I've run 100 Miles in 27 Hours and 50 Minutes. Not my greatest of times as I'm here 3.5 hours later than last year. But I'm still standing, and about to take stock.

While at Dunkin's I head inside to do the deed... again. I tell my crew all I want is a donut. Mike runs inside and stands in an enormous line. He buys me a Jelly donut and as I walk out of the store I delightfully stuff my face with the first new piece of food of the entire run. No chips, no soda, no soup, no grilled cheese... a JELLY DONUT and it was the most magical fat filled thing I'd ever had. The sugar lined my mouth and stuck to my facial hairs. I was happy as I clam as Sarah snapped a picture with me giving the best smile I could. Loni drops out of running with us having made it 30 tough miles. She is still recovering from an injury and I am most proud of what she's accomplished. Gilly grabs my waist pack for me and agrees to run it to Durham for me so I can have a break. This was wonderful as I'd worn it the entire 100 miles. We pick up TJ Weaver, a UNH Freshman joining in as part of his adventure for a class. We lose the Dunn's and we leave dunkin's as a group of 5.


The Oyster River Plantation

As we near the route 155 Off Ramp I start to head for the on-ramp. "I never thought of the on-ramp! Genius!." Mike says as we continue to run against traffic. "I thought we were going to cross Route 4, run down the off ramp, under the bridge... and I thought.. How stupid!" I smiled as I looked at Mike and said, "I'm one step ahead of you Mike... and I did that last year. It was stupid." We leave Route 4 and head onto 155A (Main St.) and keep rolling towards UNH. The wind has shifted and the temp has dropped a bit more. You can feel the air changing. Up ahead we see a bike with a florescent green rider on it.. it's one of my Professor's Brent Bell. I'm super psyched Brent is out here. He is no stranger to endurance having ridden his bike across America years ago. I very much treasure his friendship and guidance in my life, and him being here really inspired me to stand tall and move as best I could.. which at this point was merely a fast paced stroll into the Field House at UNH. At the Field House we lose Gilly. It starts to rain with large snowflakes mixed in. I ask for my yellow rain jacket and tell the crew to get ready for the storm. I look at Josh and he suggests that given my deteriorating condition as well as the deteriorating weather, we cut out the extra 2 miles in Durham we'd normally run. I agreed to cut it out and head right for Route 4. We're running out of time and don't want to keep the Science Center folks there for too long, I agree. I struggle with this decision for the next 3 miles.


We run through downtown Durham, past the University of New Hampshire, Past the many small shops that line Main Street. We even run past a the Congregational Church. The preacher is holding the door open for her exiting parishioners. She waves at Brent, "Brent, I saw your facebook, is this him?!" Brent replies, "Yeah.. this is Him.. he's running across the state!" She looks as me with a huge smile, a wave and a thumbs up," I smile and wave back and over the next few steps I lean towards Julie to tell her, "That's what this is all about.. seeing people smile, bringing people together.. I love this." Yet as we continue through gasoline alley back towards 4, I start thinking about the miles yet to come. I think long and hard, all ready having a hard time knowing we've cut 3 miles off of the adventure. I feel like I'm letting myself and others down, and as I lean towards Julie one more time I get this overwhelming feeling of "who gives a crap." I lean in and say, "All that matters is that I get from Vermont to the Ocean right?" She nods her head yes.. so I tell the others, "Hey guys, I'm thinking about cutting out the miles through New Castle as well. I bet it could save me about 3 or 4 miles. I'll ask the crew, but I think it's a good idea given my condition and this weather." The rain is picking up as is the winds. We run back out onto Route 4 and veer back off at the Waste Water Treatment plant. I run in and ask Josh for the Map. Together with everyone, we decide that cutting out New Castle would save another 4 miles. We could connect to the End route Via Route 1A. I am convinced that this is a good idea, and we're now down 7 miles. I grab more food, Brent now leaves us after having ridden his Bike about 3 miles and we continue out onto 4.. now as a group of 3.
<



Route 4 is busy for a Sunday. The shoulder gets smaller and smaller as we near the bridge that spans a small inlet to the bay. We get in line single file and finally see the salt water. We can smell the ocean air, I can smell the barn, I just have no juice left. I'm done, I'm exhausted, I'm hurting bad.. I want to be done. We arrive at the Emery Farm, the rain is now coming down in sheets, the wind is whipping out of the Northeast. The temp continues to drop. My crew is sitting in their vehicles waiting for us to arrive. As they come out to help us, you look at them as they cringer their faces and shrug their shoulders. I stop for a brief moment and thank Mike for joining us, he has to depart to do the family thing now after having run/walked the last 12 miles with us. I'm wet, I'm cold... the mental race has long since been on. I'm struggling to maintain my composure.. yet I know it'll be done soon if I only keep moving. I thank the crew and push to see them once more.. only this time at Newick's Seafood Restaurant at Dover Point. As we stop here I'm trying to take stock again, always mindful of how my body is holding up. I can finally feel the blisters on my feet. One is right on the ball of my left foot, the other on the big toe of my right. It's impossible to ignore them. It's raining in sheets.. the work is only just beginning. Yet I think to myself.. 3 more stops remain. EMS, 1A/1B, The Finish... I make this break a quick one.. and we head off down the road once more..

(Continue To Part 4 CLICK HERE)