So, I am supposed to add a day of stair climbing to my weekly work outs. It says one session of 10 to 20 minutes of going up and down the stairs. It (supposedly) doesn't matter if you do one long set of stairs a few times or a short set numerous times.
The first day I tried stairs I was at home. I tried walking up and down my ten stairs repeatedly. I gave up after 6 tries. I was worried I would slip on the carpet, worried I would wake everyone in my house up and I was getting dizzy from changing direction repeatedly. Granted, those are all pretty poor excuses!
The next week I tried stairs again. I headed off to my favorite trail in the river valley, schlepped myself down the nearest stairwell and used the walk to the next staircase as my warm up. I must say the idea of trying to continuously climb stairs had me very, very scared. In fact, I thought about putting some graffiti on the first step that said, "Be afraid, be very, very afraid!"
Since I had previously climbed these stairs a grand total of one time in a row, I changed my goal from 10 minutes to twice. I bravely (OK, I'm only brave in my own opinion) started up the stairs. Since I had forgotten my IPOD I started counting. When I got to 55 stairs I was less than halfway up and starting to breathe pretty hard.
The light bulb went on in my oxygen starved brain. "What if I turned around now and went down?" Perhaps that would keep my breathing under control (i.e. still happening) and I could still get the stairs done. So I did.
When I got to the bottom I turned around and went up again. Remember, my goal was twice. Well, after two trips up (and down of course) I felt like I could do some more. So...I kept going for 10 minutes.
Then I had a 5 minute "break" of walking up the trail and decided to do the whole thing over, therefore completing 20 minutes of stairs. When finished, at the bottom of course, I realized I had to climb the damn stairs I originally started at or I would be stranded at the bottom of the river valley. (Just for reference, the ambulance does not drive into the river valley paths, the EMTs have to stretcher you out of there).
Well, I made it up that last set of stairs, whereon I realized those risers were tiny and the staircase I had actually climbed was the one with the giant steps that I absolutely hated on all my previous excursions. DOH!
I did 918 stairs. Whew....(hm, maybe next week I'll try to hit 1000!)
PS. As a frame of reference, a friend of mine who has climbed Everest, spent hours climbing the stairs in Telus Tower with a pack and boots. This after a 12 hour shift working in emergency without eating anything. Good thing I'm not that dedicated!
PPS. I'm pretty sure the mountain doesn't actually have stairs with rails to climb to the summit. Darn!
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
I Climb a Mountain!
I am in Canmore, a lovely little town in the Rocky Mountains. Of course, since I am training to climb a mountain I thought I should take advantage of the locale and climb one here.
I chose Lady MacDonald Trail up the aptly named Mount Lady Macdonald.
It is labelled as a moderate hike/easy scramble in the tourist propaganda. 4 hours round trip with the first two hours being hike and the rest scramble according to the internet. Hmm two hours hike and then scramble in a 4 hour round trip, somehow the numbers don't add up.
Regardless, I hit the trail head in my boots, with my poles, and carrying my pack. In it I had 3 litres of water, a couple of snacks, an emergency blanket, whistle, flashlight, a jacket and toque. Just in case I have to spend the night on the mountain I don't want to suffer too much.
The path was well marked and rocky/dirt with exposed tree roots. The first thing I noticed is that I was almost instantly out of breath. All the way up it was like I had just hauled my fat arse off the couch and decided to run a marathon. I tried to blame it on the elevation, which must be higher than my couch at home since I live on the blessedly flat prairies. Eventually I got into the rhythm of walking 200 steps and then pausing for 10 breaths. I think it is mostly psychological, I felt that if I was breathing hard I must be working too hard. I mentally assessed how I was doing and repeatedly came to the conclusion that I wasn't overly stressed or working too hard, I was just working harder to breathe. I imagine this is going to be an ongoing thing at the altitude of Kilimanjaro. I think it will be a hard thing to prepare for.
I climbed, and climbed, and climbed. I finally truly understand the purpose of hiking poles. You think you get it while walking up the paved trails in the river valley, but it is nothing like digging your pole into the dirt and really hauling your arse up the hill. Needless to say, my arms are weaker than my arse is heavy. I promise to tone down my bitching about the push ups in the training program.
I decided before I started that I would climb up for an hour and then turn around. A four hour hike is outside my physical readiness at this point. I now understand why people go too far when they are climbing. I kept thinking I was almost there and just wanted to climb through the next switchback to see if I could see the top. I did stick to my plan and at one hour I stopped for a sit down and a snack. I planned for a 15 minute rest but was cold after 8. I even put my toque on to see if I could stay warm. I was damp with sweat and there was a bit of a breeze through the trees. Although it was 13C in the town, I imagine it was a bit cooler up here.
This was the point where I discovered cotton panties are a bad idea! I had sweated through my underwear and the crotch and inside thighs of my nylon pants were wet. This wasn't too bad while sitting but as I started to descend I was experiencing the dreaded fat girl thigh rub. Its a good thing my pants were wet otherwise the friction of my thighs would have started a fire!
I was quite worried about the trip down. I have a few knee issues and back in the dark ages when I used to run I always hated the downhills. This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I figured out how to use my poles going down, took mincing steps and basically went down the mountain with steps the length of my boot. On the good side, no problems with the breathing! I made it down in 62 minutes.
One guy passed me on the way up. Wearing shorts, a t-shirt, trail runners and using poles. He passed me on the way down too. Shirt tied around his waist, carrying his poles and RUNNING down hill. All I could say was "wow" to which he replied, "I do this all the time". I wished I could have seen him running longer because it was a joy to watch him moving like that. Nonetheless, I kept mincing and didn't try any running.
Things I learned (in no particular order):
Cotton underwear are bad.
Thick socks are good.
I need to hem my damn pants before I take them to Africa.
The good and bad parts of up and down balance out. Which ever one I am currently doing will make me wish for the other.
Dairy Queen Blizzard is a good supper after mountain climbing!
And yes, when I titled this "I climb a mountain" I figured you would immediately jump to the conclusion that I actually climbed to the top. I never made it out of the trees. Hmm, maybe in the autumn....
It is labelled as a moderate hike/easy scramble in the tourist propaganda. 4 hours round trip with the first two hours being hike and the rest scramble according to the internet. Hmm two hours hike and then scramble in a 4 hour round trip, somehow the numbers don't add up.
Regardless, I hit the trail head in my boots, with my poles, and carrying my pack. In it I had 3 litres of water, a couple of snacks, an emergency blanket, whistle, flashlight, a jacket and toque. Just in case I have to spend the night on the mountain I don't want to suffer too much.
The path was well marked and rocky/dirt with exposed tree roots. The first thing I noticed is that I was almost instantly out of breath. All the way up it was like I had just hauled my fat arse off the couch and decided to run a marathon. I tried to blame it on the elevation, which must be higher than my couch at home since I live on the blessedly flat prairies. Eventually I got into the rhythm of walking 200 steps and then pausing for 10 breaths. I think it is mostly psychological, I felt that if I was breathing hard I must be working too hard. I mentally assessed how I was doing and repeatedly came to the conclusion that I wasn't overly stressed or working too hard, I was just working harder to breathe. I imagine this is going to be an ongoing thing at the altitude of Kilimanjaro. I think it will be a hard thing to prepare for.
I climbed, and climbed, and climbed. I finally truly understand the purpose of hiking poles. You think you get it while walking up the paved trails in the river valley, but it is nothing like digging your pole into the dirt and really hauling your arse up the hill. Needless to say, my arms are weaker than my arse is heavy. I promise to tone down my bitching about the push ups in the training program.
I decided before I started that I would climb up for an hour and then turn around. A four hour hike is outside my physical readiness at this point. I now understand why people go too far when they are climbing. I kept thinking I was almost there and just wanted to climb through the next switchback to see if I could see the top. I did stick to my plan and at one hour I stopped for a sit down and a snack. I planned for a 15 minute rest but was cold after 8. I even put my toque on to see if I could stay warm. I was damp with sweat and there was a bit of a breeze through the trees. Although it was 13C in the town, I imagine it was a bit cooler up here.
This was the point where I discovered cotton panties are a bad idea! I had sweated through my underwear and the crotch and inside thighs of my nylon pants were wet. This wasn't too bad while sitting but as I started to descend I was experiencing the dreaded fat girl thigh rub. Its a good thing my pants were wet otherwise the friction of my thighs would have started a fire!
I was quite worried about the trip down. I have a few knee issues and back in the dark ages when I used to run I always hated the downhills. This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I figured out how to use my poles going down, took mincing steps and basically went down the mountain with steps the length of my boot. On the good side, no problems with the breathing! I made it down in 62 minutes.
One guy passed me on the way up. Wearing shorts, a t-shirt, trail runners and using poles. He passed me on the way down too. Shirt tied around his waist, carrying his poles and RUNNING down hill. All I could say was "wow" to which he replied, "I do this all the time". I wished I could have seen him running longer because it was a joy to watch him moving like that. Nonetheless, I kept mincing and didn't try any running.
Things I learned (in no particular order):
Cotton underwear are bad.
Thick socks are good.
I need to hem my damn pants before I take them to Africa.
The good and bad parts of up and down balance out. Which ever one I am currently doing will make me wish for the other.
Dairy Queen Blizzard is a good supper after mountain climbing!
And yes, when I titled this "I climb a mountain" I figured you would immediately jump to the conclusion that I actually climbed to the top. I never made it out of the trees. Hmm, maybe in the autumn....
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