Shahi Paneer Leads to Trail Running Revelation - Huh?

I have to buy my friends.  At least this appears to be the case.  I mean, half a school year of “any Tuesday or Thursday, let’s go for a run/paddle/whatever – just say when” has only budged two “friends” a total of three times.  Pretty telling, I think.  Last week, though, I tried out a new approach, my neighbor Tracy becoming my first test subject.  Knowing that she enjoys cooking and that she likes, if not loves Indian food, including a paneer dish I had made for our families at a holiday get-together, I gave her a packet of the spice kit I had used.  Then I baited her big time:  Come over to my house, I’ll show you how to make paneer (the cheese used in the recipe) and, while it’s cooling, we can go for a run around the Totally Unnecessary Trail.   

Making paneer is really quite simple, the one catch is concocting some sort of press to bind the curds that form from adding an acid to the heated milk.   This is my ace in the hole as Tracy doesn’t have a press:  if she wants paneer, she has to play with me.  

My cheese press is a mix of river guide technology, back East food tastes and Rona Hardware plumbing supplies.

The shahi paneer must have been really good that night (I have to admit, using the Fusion Spice kit felt like cheating) because a few days after having made the offer, Tracy succumbs.  Note to self:  Tracy = homemade Indian food.

I owe my first trail run with Tracy to Fusion!

Thursday morning after dropping the kids off at school, she knocks on the door dressed in her running attire ready to get to work.  I pour a gallon of milk into the pot and our paneer making is underway.  Then the moment comes, the milk reaches the magical temperature of 85 C, we add lemon juice, place the curdling milk in the refrigerator, and head up Oceanview Road for our run as the mixture cools.

The first stretch of the approximately 8 km/5 mile Totally Unnecessary Trail follows the Unnecessary Mountain Trail – they are one and the same – and is uphill.  More accurately, it’s up the western flank of the Coast Mountain Range.  If this sounds cool, it’s because it is.  The mountainside’s toll can be measured by the slowly diminishing conversation that takes place over the first 20 or so minutes.  We start out chatting away as Tracy’s dog, Scout, lopes easily ahead.  “Here’s a particularly sketchy bit,” I call to Tracy as we approach a vertical ledge, but later on for something equally sketchy, it’s reduced to, “This is [breath breath]sketchy!” or simply, “Sketchy!”  Ever the guide, though – Larissa rightly explains I love being in guide mode – I literally stop to share a story about the burnt out shell of a tree, stopping being something I never do on my own.  To me, the Totally Unnecessary Trail is just as much about the people who built it as it is the beautiful forest it travels through; their stories need to be told.  If it requires stopping, I’ll stop!

Keaton and Elena humoring me for a photo last summer.

And the forest is beautiful.  I look back in Tracy’s direction to see her surrounded in the massive trees and exclaim rhetorically, “Isn’t this beautiful?!”  This setting is something I’ve experienced dozens of times now and I’m still incredulous.  The day is overcast, but even on the sunniest of days, this part of the trail is always in cool, deep shadows beneath the dense canopy high overhead.

At around 2,000 feet, the top part of the Totally Unnecessary Trail branches off from the Unnecessary Mountain Trail, the entrance purposely obscured so only the people who know about the trail will be on it.  “There’s only one more stretch of uphill before we reach the highest point on the trail,” I encourage her.  And then that’s reached, I give a bit of a cheer, and we’re officially able to enjoy what I call The Traverse.

 The Traverse is a narrow track that undulates a bit as the trail slides south along the contours of the mountain.  It’s not long – we’re just about to a mini-sketchy ledge we have to descend – when Tracy exclaims, “I love this trail!”  We’ve worked our tails off to get pretty damn high and now we’re able to enjoy the fruits of our labor (at least until we get to the bottom of Lone Tree Creek!)  From solely a running perspective, this is an aspect about trail running in a mountainous environment that I love:  I’ve just gone from running as slow as I’ve ever run – the uphill bit – while all my vitals were about maxed out, to going about as fast as the trail dictates I can go and I’m back in full breath and my heart rate has markedly decreased.  When the trail opens up, so will I so that on those few, short sections, I’m nearly at a full sprint.  It can be the epitome of interval running.  The only times I’d change my pace on a road run would be exactly for doing interval running; here it happens naturally. 

I’m thrilled Tracy’s having fun – when we share things we love, it’s some darn good feedback.  We’re able to talk again, we cross creeks, we squeeze between trees, vault over/slip under – depends on one’s height! – a downed tree, traverse some scree slopes – I even make Tracy stop for a picture.  I have many favorite sections of trail and The Traverse is one of them.

This time, it's Tracy's turn to humor me.

In another twenty-plus minutes, we’re at the edge of the final scree slope and about to descend.  I have to interrupt our conversation to warn, “Take this at whatever speed you’re comfortable – it’s pretty sketchy.” – sketchy apparently my word du jour.  The descent consists of several short switchbacks where the scree has been picked over to create the semblance of a trail.  The loosest rocks have been removed, but here “loose” is a relative term.  Very relative.  When you’re running down it, there isn’t much that feels stable.  I rely on quickness to get through it, never spending too long on any one rock.  The descent only brings us part-way down, depositing us onto a plateau where the remains of an old forestry road can be seen. 

The plateau is another favorite section.  Every shade of green imaginable is contained in the different mosses and needles in the forest here as the path wends its way among the conifers.  Just before we come onto it, I make Tracy go ahead so she can appreciate it without an obstructed view.   As we emerge, I repeat, “Isn’t it beautiful?!” only this time screaming it.  Of course, Tracy agrees.  She’s scared not to!  She weaves her way through the trees until the trail begins to go down again, deferring the lead of the short downhill section to me.  It’s another few, quick switchbacks then a steady downhill bit – it’s actually somewhat straight.  “There’s a sort of fun side-step move coming up.  We’ll come over a rise and you’re going to have to step over a log to your right,” I explain.  It’s one of many fun moves since quick footwork is rewarded with a smooth transition from going forward to going sideways to going forward again.  A short distance beyond this, I lead Tracy to an overlook where the hiking faction typically stops to eat their lunches.  While we appreciate everything we see, the stop is brief and we’re back on a lower section of the plateau, the trail again wending its way on soft track among greens of every shade.

Kona has to take his turn, too.  This was in November.

The plateau is disappointingly short; its beauty alone makes me wish it went on for miles and miles.  In fact, the nature of the Totally Unnecessary Trail is constantly changing.  All too soon, we’re on a rough descent down into Lone Tree Creek, the longest descent on the trail and the most technical section of a rather technical trail.  “Go down at whatever speed you feel comfortable,” I warn again, adding, “it’s a long way out with a twisted ankle.”  Tracy works her way down as we negotiate numerous obstacles including a mini-creek that’s formed on account of recent rains; a blind, hairpin turn with a rather precipitous drop awaiting anyone who doesn’t zag right; a log bridge with a chicken wire tread nailed to it – Scout doesn’t like this; and a massive log angled down over the trail with a notch for a foothold carved into it and a bright, yellow rope nailed in for grip – Scout doesn’t like this log, either.  My dog, Kona, almost slid down this and into the ravine below while on a run several months ago; I was just able to grab him as his back feet lost their purchase.  Scout has good reason to be hesitant.  Further down brings us to The Grotto and all its wetness and slippery rocks.  And before we know it, we’re on the modest bridge spanning Lone Tree Creek, the creek we’ve been listening to for at least the last five minutes.  Again, we pause to revel in the beauty.

Lone Tree Creek as seen from the bridge on the lower section of trail.

The remainder of the run is comprised of climbing out of Lone Tree Creek and then a longer section of relatively gentle trail until we’re back onto the Unnecessary Mountain Trail and heading down.  At one point on this route  – it’s after High Point, the top part of the lower trail before it goes down into the defile that is Lone Tree Creek – I look back in Tracy’s direction.  The trail, rocky in this section, clings to the forested hillside.  Tracy silently, deftly descends this twisted track, seemingly lost in concentrating on the moment in front of her.  She’s part of the trail.  My mind flashes to images I’ve seen on the Internet and magazines of people running in stunning environments, images that have inspired me to trail run.  It’s such a simple beauty, trail running, a simple, but overwhelming beauty.  For the first time I realize, when we run these trails, we are this beauty.

*     *     *

I find tremendous enjoyment in sharing things I love.  Being able to go for a run with someone else is special enough.  That today it was on the Totally Unnecessary Trail - and Tracy’s first time on it, to boot – makes it even more special.  I felt this way back in the summer when Larissa, the kids and I made our way around it with our local hiking group, I felt this way when I brought another friend for her first time on the trail this fall (also as a run), and I imagine I’ll get to feel this way a bunch more times as I convince other people to join me for a run around the trail.  I’ll just have to figure out the “angle” for each of them!

 Monday, January 13 Update:

Not only did Tracy get in a spectacular run, her paneer turned out wonderfully:

This is a glowing testimonial if ever there was one!

Managing Pain

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had to deal with an “overuse” injury, mainly because I haven’t really been overusing anything since competing in college.  Memories of running from the start of high school through college, likely flawed, are pocked with dealing with one stress-induced injury after another.  I was able to compete pretty regularly, so it couldn’t have been that bad.  Still, I dealt with a lot of injuries, particularly involving my knees.

Glory Days!  My high school conference championships when I could run reasonably fast.  Of course, this was before color film had been invented.

Had I made a few decisions differently, I probably wouldn’t have developed plantar fasciitis near the end of November.  In a nutshell, I had challenged all but one of my middle and high school age students to a one mile “race” on a treadmill.  The kids spend their PE block on Mondays at a local community center using rowing machines, spin bikes, the pool, and yes, the treadmills as they work to improve their cardiovascular fitness.  Despite making it a relay challenge – the students could pair up, each person running a portion of the mile – the boy who took up my challenge, a fairly cocky 16 year-old, was willing to go head-to-head for the entire mile.  The race was on!

I hate treadmills and haven’t run on one for several years.   I cautiously got my machine up to speed (I have literally flown off Larissa’s on account of starting it too fast) whereas the student got his up to speed pretty quickly.  Just a couple minutes in and I was already lagging!

My goal was to run a 6 minute mile, so I soon had it up to 10 mph.  While I had gained some of the time back, I was still behind at a half-mile.  I bumped the speed up another couple tenths and focused on running efficiently:  arms parallel to the direction I was “traveling”, landing on the balls of my feet, breathing in sync with my strides.  I was certainly pushing myself in a much different way than when I’m on the trails.  Then, at .72 of a mile on his machine, my competitor packed it in.  He had gone out flying and wasn’t able to keep the pace.  

“You can stop now, Mr. Wescott,” he said before conceding, “you won.”  

“It’s a one mile race!”  I shot back.  Realizing I was still slower than a 6 minute pace, I bumped the speed up to 10.5, then 10.7 and kept going until I had completed the distance.  Had the teen recruited a classmate and made it a relay, the two would have won handily.  He didn’t and I finished at somewhere closer to a 6:30 mile (damn the slow warm-up!) than 6.

Despite the PE teacher and I enjoying a bit of a laugh at this, it was the student who could have had the last laugh:  When I woke up the next morning, I was totally hobbled by pain in my right heel.  “Holy cow!” I thought, attributing the pain to having landed hard on a rock a few days earlier while out on a trail and unknowingly tweaking it on the treadmill.  I spent the next week thinking I had either badly bruised or broken the bone in my heel.  I learned how to tape my heel from a Youtube video, donned my heavily-padded Ascics in favor of my New Balance 110 trailrunners and tried to run through it.  This didn’t work and I was still in just as much pain as I had been that Tuesday morning.  

While I love my New Balance 110's, they're a "minimalist"-type shoe and don't have the same shock absorption of a lot of beefier trail running shoes like my old Ascics.

More on-line research led me to concluding I had plantar fasciitis instead of a bruised or broken bone.  It was weird, though, because stepping on rocks in my neoprene wetsuit socks was extremely painful and I wouldn’t have thought tissue could cause that type of pain.  I took the next week off from running and enjoyed unseasonably dry and warm weather by riding my bike and paddling.  I resumed running the third week, simply taking things slower and being careful on downhills – still wearing my Ascics.  By the fourth week, despite the presence of continual pain, I began running hard again.  The pain didn’t increase, though I was quick to pop a couple Ibuprofen and ice my heel immediately upon finishing a run.  I found, too, standing as much as I could throughout the school day, helped.  And I was wearing my Ascics all the time.  Serendipitously, I had just picked up a pair of Sidas insoles that had been gifted to me for helping out at this past summer’s Squamish Arc’terxy ultra-marathon.  They’ve been living inside my Ascics since the injury and have cushioned my heel amazingly well!

The Sidas insoles which have been saviours since my injury.

Cross-country skiing and the Christmas holidays took me off the running trails and, by this past Tuesday (Dec. 31), my heel was feeling the best that it had been since the injury.  I was at the point where I was calling my case of plantar fasciitis “amusing”:  I was able to run fairly hard and still improve on the pain, it seemed I was overcoming the injury as I was figuring out how to deal with it.  And then I went for one more hard run around Trudi’s Trail.

The Christmas holiday included lots of cross-country skiing and sledding up at Whistler Olympic Park

 in Callaghan Valley.

Whether it was because I didn’t ice it afterwards or because something happened while on the trail, I was in significant pain just a few hours later.  I’d squeezed the run in just before darkness fell, so I had to make supper as soon as I got back and couldn’t do anything for my heel.  New Year’s plans with the family further interfered with doing anything to take care of it and it was a shooting, burning pain I was dealing with as we drove into Vancouver.  Even New Year’s Day, I was totally hobbled, not unlike that first Tuesday over a month back.  I was baffled as much as I was frustrated.  Looking at my schedule, I knew I wouldn’t have a chance to go for a trail run for at least a couple days.  I also knew, given the amount of pain, I shouldn’t try running on it.  Our village’s “Dip & Dash” New Year’s celebration was scheduled for 11 AM down at the beach and I slipped my Ascics on once again for the walk down with Larissa and the kids.

Larissa snapped a shot as Keaton, Elena and I joined the throng!

I take part in the Dip & Dash for the social aspect of it.  As I told Larissa afterward, I get cold and wet all by myself quite regularly.  It’s really fun to be with a bunch of people from our community as a new year begins, a sort of fresh start awaiting us as we wish one another well.

On our walk back up to our house, we were blessed with the company of John and Rose Dudley, two of the most stalwart Lions Bay “trailblazers”, the people who directly contributed to creating the trails I now enjoy running on.  The trail system is largely John’s vision he and his friends have carried out.  Both John and Rose are extremely supportive of my trail running, frequently inquiring on how things are going.  “My heel is back to hurting quite a bit again,” I told John as we made our way up the hill.  He showed some concern, then got back to razzing me about not spending more time splashing about in the water.  

John and Rose Dudley are heroes in my book.  John is not only the visionary behind our Lions Bay trails, he's the workhorse who doesn't stop building. And Rose is right alongside him. This is after last year's Vancouver 10K Sun Run.

 Later that afternoon, though, the pain was greatly reduced.  I was amazed and baffled anew.  I struggled with the decision to rest it or run.  Imagining being out on the Totally Unnecessary Trail was too enticing, though, and by 3, Kona and I were on our way up for an hour+ trail run.

*     *     *

I made a number of mistakes that November Monday afternoon.  The first was likely my selection of shoes, the New Balance 110’s.  While they’re great for the relatively padded trails I run on, they offer little shock absorption.  I ran in racing flats throughout high school and college that similarly lacked shock absorption, but college was more than a few years ago.  In essence, I hadn’t built up for the pounding my feet were about to take running at, for me, a fast pace on a treadmill.

I also didn’t warm up properly, something I was well aware of at the time.   Plans to get to the gym a few minutes early to get a bit of a run around outside were thwarted when unexpected school duties cropped up at the very end of the day.  And, just before my running challenge was accepted, I’d been competing in a 500 meter rowing race (I had never used a rowing machine!) another student challenged me to.  While cardiovascularly I was warmed up, my legs and feet weren’t ready for running.

*     *     *

For whatever reason, the pain never got worse after my New Year’s day run.  I could certainly feel strain in my arch at various points in the run, but I was sure to pop two Ibuprofen and iced my heel when I got back.  When I went to bed that night I was thinking, “We’ll see what it’s like when I get up in the morning.”  

I’m conditioned now to carefully hold onto the bedpost as I lower my legs to take my first steps of the day.  Extreme pain first thing in the morning is a common plantar fasciitis symptom given that the fascia contracts when we sleep with our toes pointed down.  But even first thing the next morning, there wasn’t much pain.  In the days that have passed, while the pain has persisted, it’s more of the dull, background type of pain and I feel like I’m back to attempting to manage the pain as I overcome the injury.  I’m grateful to not be back at square one with my case of plantar fasciitis.  But after what seemed like a setback, I no longer find it amusing and just want it over.

UPDATE, December 2017:  I should have posted this long ago, but the reality of plantar fasciitis is you actually have to take time off from running.  I was unable to run through it.  I tried running a 50k trail run (the Squamish 50) that August, but on account of not being able to fully train, I crashed and burned.  It was only after this failure that I took 6 to 8 weeks fully off, before slowly returning to running.  I wear different shoes now, only using the 110's occasionally, and haven't had any symptoms.  The key for me was the extreme calf tightness:  that was my warning sign, I just didn't know how to interpret it.