Got the mowing problem fixed!

It's been so wet lately, and my back yard loves it. Getting it mowed has seriously cut into my running and biking time, and here it is a long weekend with 3 days to play. I had to come up with a plan, and indeed I did just that.Not only will these guys keep my yard nicely groomed, I don't have to slave away pushing a mower, running to the gas station to buy gas, and weed eating is a chore of the past.They're kind of cute, and after mowing season is over, I hear they are good to eat!

I believe in recycling

As mentioned in yesterdays post, one of my biggest pet peeves is people who litter and especially people who litter the trails with broken glass. Why do they go so deep into the trails to do this? Why litter at all?Maybe it happens like this....A couple punk kids are sitting around and one says, "Dude! What are you doing Saturday night?""I dunno, what'd you wanna do?"
"I know. Lets go up to Turkey Mountain and break some glass. I have a whole crapload of empty Keystone Light bottles in my old man's garage."
"Radical man. That'd be cool!"
"Bitchin, Dude, Bitchin!"

But this glass actually looked really old, like maybe it had been here for quite a while.Maybe the rains had washed the dirt away and this glass was re-emerging after being buried for many years. Maybe the conversation was more like this....A few country boys were sitting around and one says, "Say, Eli, what dost thou have planned for this sabbath day afternoon?""I am not certain, Jebediah. Pray tell what dost thou want to do?"
"I know....let us gather together some fruit jars from Brother Thaddeus' barn and carry them hence to the hill that rises from the west bank of the Arkansas. From there, we will carry these glass vessels and cast them upon the stones in the forest."
"I do not know if my Pa will approve of this activity, Brother Jebediah. I have my chores to attend to."
"I will come and help you finish with milking, and we can depart after we are through."
"Then I will go with thee."
"Bitchin, Dude, Bitchin!"

Start your morning with trash.

This is what I get to see every day on the way to work. This is so despicable that it needs no further ranting. Anyone would agree that this is the epitome of stupidity, inconsideration, and lack of respect for the space in which we live.A truck that sped off ended up here. Not sure if they had dumped the trash, or had stopped to look in disgust or take a picture as I did. But from the looks of things, they may have had something to do with the trash. Heck, they may have thought there was some good stuff laying beside the road??The dog ended up being not so friendly, and I left. Had a crappy day, until tonight when I got to RUN!!!

Night Running

Last night, almost on a whim, we decided to do a night run. For Kathy and I, it was to be an all-nighter. For Micheal, it was some tack-on distance to his early morning miles. For Bobby and Russell, it was a 16 miler that turned out to be closer to 17 and then a long slow bike ride after that. For Roman, well who knows? Roman ran, and could have done the full 33 miles on zero training as he has the amazing ability to do just that. But Roman got in 17, and then sharpened his crewing skills for the rest of the night. Also on this trip, Susan helped with crewing duties, having assumed the chore once before. Kristen came along, having demonstrated a genius for aid station duties and tonight took this skill to the road. And finally, last mentioned and best of all, Sandra was crew babe captain-ess, drove a minivan all through the night, shuttled sweaty runners too and fro, slept like NOT at all, delivered bicycles, cleaned up our messes, and flashed a smile all night long. (Would hate to see her grumpy!)Pictured above, me on the left, Kathy with her color coordinated shirt and do-rag, Roman with the hand jive below, Bobby in the middle, Russell poking his head over Bobby's shoulder, Kristen also hiding in the back, Susan cuddled up to Bobby (he is just so cuddly!) Michael with the green Lake McMurtry shirt, and Crew chief Sandra.

The plan was, run from 21st and Riverside, down to 11th, and then west to Sand Springs, and further west to Keystone Dam, cross the dam, and come back on the old highway, and Avery Drive and on home. From the very onset, it was established that we'd take it easy, stay together, walk the hills, and best of all, have fun.So at every opportunity, we stopped for photos. This is a sculpture of an old river man navigating a primitive canoe. Throw in some Surfin USA, and you have it.

Sandra and company drove ahead every 1-2 miles and waited for us.In retrospect, they could have gone 3-4 miles, and maybe caught a catnap along the way. But once they treated themselves to some ZZZZs, they might have found it hard to keep going.

Another photo-op not wasted. Sorry for the blurry pic.

At Sand Springs, Michael dropped out after running 8.25 miles. We headed on west, and the crew babes went ahead a couple of miles to wait for us. It was then that several highway patrol cars, a fire truck. went screaming by us, and in the back of my mind, I hoped it had nothing to do with our van of girls.It did not, but at the same time, they were concerned that the emergency vehicles might have something to do with us. It did not. But it was enough to flush the sleepiness away. No one hurt here, from what we could see.

After this, we got to Wekiwa Road, which was a shoulderless 2-lane route that used to be the main highway back around 30 years ago. Thirty years with no road improvement meant lots of things you could trip on and long deep shadows cast from our headlamps. This road ran along the Arkansas River and at the base of some bluffs and hills. It also had several areas where rock slides were a possibility.And as luck would have it, Bobby actually FOUND one of these fallen rocks. Who'da thunk it?

Not one of the prettier sights along the way. It's amazing that on a road that is actually quite scenic, some assholes decide to throw their crappy trash out for everyone else who passes by to see. GRRRRR!!!

Not long after that, we ran by an old lone house that set maybe 100 yards off the road. I heard voices from behind the house, something a little unusual as it was about 1:30 am. I saw some people coming around the house, as we were in the road right in front of it. "Who goes there?" came from the shadows. Roman or Russell answered, "Just going for a run." The people kept coming. It was dark, and I did not really want an altercation or anything, and tried to not shine my headlamp right at them. I then heard something about "beating up"....not really sure if someone it the group said they were gonna beat us up, or they thought we might beat them up? I am sure that either way, I was not interested in finding out. Now I have seen "The Hills Have Eyes" and this was seeming a little like how that movie started out. Even if these folks would have been fascinated that we were running all night and had ran 14 miles from downtown Tulsa, and were part of TATUR and RunnersWorld and all, A more likely scenario would have been they were crazed meth addicts looking for some people to run through their compost machine.So, I decided since we were runners, why not just show them that instead of just sharing that with them. Besides, with 3 or 4 of them, Kathy would have had her hands full whipping all of them while the rest of us watched. After running for about a quarter of a mile, we came to this sign.It seems we were having the worst luck! But bravely, we took our chances on this dilapidated bridge.Kathy nearly made it across, and luckily was able to scramble her way over.

Right after that, two highway patrolmen cam screaming up, lights-a-blazing, and wanted to know who we were and what we were doing. We told them, and they were understanding, and let us go on our way. They roared up, back and forth down the road, stopping several cars. It was decided they were looking for someone, probably in a car or truck. I think it was probably some of the "hills-have-eyes" people. Dunno.

1.5 miles later, we made it to Keystone Dam.Water was roaring through the turnstiles at a deafening pace. We ran most of the mile across the dam to our next crew stop. It was here where Russel and Bobby hopped on their bikes and rode for the rest of the night.We probably spent more time at this stop than any other. This would have been a failing grade in "transition time" if this had been a duathlon.

Ok....who farted?? Susan has the authentic look of disgust, so she's off the hook. Roman seems to be enjoying the moment, although it could be from oxygen deprivation. Sandra has that guilty little grin....hmmm. The answer: it was Kathy.

From there, we ran along the old highway on the south side of the river. It was an old bumpy paved road that was in disrepair. At one point, a train track crossed the road diagonally, and it was at this place that the road was wide and it seemed a good place for the van to stop so as to give room for passing vehicles. we were eating, drinking Gatorade, refilling our water bottles, and goofing off in general. Then I heard "DING DING DING DING" and the warning barriers dropped and indicated a train was coming. We were not actually parked on the tracks, but were well within the crossing guards.It was a little unnerving, and Sandra quickly pulled the van around the barrier to a safer feeling place. the train sped by at a very high speed, away and into the night.This was the first of several trains that passed us by. Each train whistle filled the cool night air, and resonated against the darkness an a sad and mysterious way. It truly seemed magical to me. The night's sky was overloaded with stars, and a half moon made an appearance late in the run.

Picture taking went by the wayside after that, as were were tiring, and more focused on finishing our run. Bobby and Russell exited shortly after that, and Kathy and I stopped at Chandler park, with 29.5 miles to brag about. 13 hours later, I have had a 6 hour sleep, had some ibuprofen, and will likely take another long sleep before long. Just one blister to show for the trip, but despite 4 pictures, it was just not worthy to show here on the blog....I do have standards, you know.

All in all, this was maybe the most fun spontaneous night run ever. Lots of excitement, perfect temps, a relaxed pace, good friends. Possibly, I will have some more pics later, if I can swipe some from Roman's camera.

Happy trails.

T Z the Bicycle Rider

Wednesday, in an effort to stay away from caves, ticks, and places where I might be enticed to lying a little, I rode with the Wednesday Night Ride.Several of my RunnersWorld buddies ride regularly, and I am desperate to do any kind of cross training that works off some calories without furthering the aches to my PF.
Melanie and Bill before the ride. I did not see them again until I was through, and they were on their 2nd or 3rd beer as I came dragging in.

Not sure I am gonna buy into the bike jersey thing, although they do have great pockets in the back to put stuff in. Amanda could sell a pair of thong underwear to a priest with that smile.

My biking partners for the day: Bobby above, and Bronda below.
I am a runner. Not a fast one, just a mid-to-back-of-the-packer, But as a biker, I am a dead-last-of-the-packer. Oh, the nice bikers encouraged me, and told me I'll get better....ya just gotta keep doing it. Something about needing clips. Hmmm.Is my helmet on backwards?

My take on my slow speed, is the whole dang route was....Although to probably every othe biker there, the route was a little more like....Funny, I like hills for running and hate them when I have to pedal up them!

I did have an epiphany whilst riding. A very specific stimuli was instrumental to a dramatic increase in my biking pace.This dog, minus the chain, plus steroids. A mere 2 miles into the ride, I led Bobby and Bronda past a turn, and down a steep hill. Rather than turn around and pedal our bikes BACK UP a block (I would have surely pushed my bike), we just went down the hill and turned right on a parallel street in hopes of finding the correct route. Bronda spotted Spot first, and I, being a superhero (in my own mind) told her I would keep her between the dog and myself. Now honest to God, I meant I would put myself between her and the dog....HONEST! I did steer right toward the dog, playing chicken. Spot never moved, and I bumped him pretty good on the shoulder, and managed a sideways kick with my healthy foot. TAKE THAT, SPOT!
I then pedaled like a skinny chick at a spin class, and got away from the dog. As it turns out, an alternate ending to this story has already been sketched by the above beer ad.

Thanks to Stefanie, who called to check up on us. We were doing ok, but just slow, and rode 23 miles, whereas several of our friends took a shorter ride. One of those friends, Larry, was gracious enough to save Bobby, Bronda, and I a cold Boulevard Wheat. Final touches on a perfect night!

caving

I had a little extra time on my hands Monday, and decided to take a short run/hike at Turkey Mountain. My journey had three objectives.
1. To scope out some new trails for the Barkley Book Fair night run, IF I should decide to have it at Turkey Mountain again this year.
2. To take up the remaining pictures on an old disposable camera so I can get it developed. Might be some good pics on it although I thought it was at least a couple of years old.
3. To see if I could find and photograph a petroglyth that is somewhere on the east facing bluffs.This carving dates back several centuries, and I have yet to find it, although I have been all over the eastern edge of the mountain.

So, with a couple of hours to spare, my disposable camera, my Olympus, my Garmin, no phone, and no water bottle, I took off for a 3-4 mile adventure. The lower trail was fun as always, a couple of fallen trees here and there, soft trails, not too muddy. I made it to the end where the trail heads STRAIGHT up to the Ho-chi, and I veered on northward, where a trail that is seldom used was actually in pretty good shape for about 100 meters or so. Then, the trail disappeared.... a couple years of non-use since the Barkley Book Fair two years ago had allowed the trail to vanish. Mud slides, fallen trees, overgrowth, and a continuous wall of vines had closed the trail, but I still managed to wade my way through, kind of sort of following the trail that I primitively cut 2 years ago. Up and down, along the edge of the bluffs I made my way, and at a snails pace. Finally I made it to the first of the semi-caves, where someone had carved BAD DOG in the rocks, maybe 40-60 years ago, depending on what lore you wanted to take as gospel.At this point, I had burned a little more than half my time as I had an appointment to tend to, and was going to have to cut my run short by either going up the mountain and run back on the Ho-chi, or hack my way downward to the railroad tracks and head back that way. I sat down to take the rocks/twigs out of my shoe, and was marveling at how my Plantar's Fasciitis had not hurt at all. Something about nice soft dirt and every step being different....a good thing. While tying my shoe, I heard a racket and noticed a crow had landed about 10-15 feet away in a tree. I took out the old Kodak disposable and snapped a pic. The flash did not go off....I thought it automatically did, and I wondered if the camera was even working so I took out my Olympus and zoomed in a little for a better pic.Just as the flash went off, someone put a hand on my shoulder, and although it scared the crap out of me, I did not scream like a girl, but turned to face an old bearded man. Instinctively, being the paparazzi I am, I took a quick picture not even thinking that it might be offensive to him.Probably if the flash had went off, I would have blinded him.... good thing it did not, as he was actually a cool, albeit mysterious man. He asked who I was, what I was doing, was I lost. I told him I was T Z (not really sure I wanted to tell him my real name.) He had a strange accent, sort of a cross between a hillbilly and an Irishman. His name was Eldridge.
"Wuda ya dunn back up in here?"
"Oh, hiking, looking for carvings. I've found this one, (referring to the BAD DOG carving) but I knew it was here," I said.
"Yah, I pit that one thar sevral yars back. Yist ta be mah nam when I went ta town."
So this guy claims to be the person who carved BAD DOG in the rocks. Hmmm.... I continued on my conversation, not really knowing for sure if this guy was friendly, and I figured if I could keep him talking maybe things would be alright. I did notice he had a darned big knife on his belt....kind of like the one Crocodile Dundee carried. I made a blabbering about the cave where we were, which is actually more of a crevice in the rocks. "My trail running club had a run, sort of an adventure race which came right through this way and into this cave a few years ago."
"Aw, thut's not much of a cav. There's a lot more cavs in these hills ef ya knows whur to look for em."
"I have heard there was a pretty good sized cave here years ago. My neighbor, who is in his 70s, was telling me about years ago a couple of kids were in the caves and never found there way out. He told me the city or county or someone dynamited the entrance after that so no one else would ever go in....sort of a safety thing."
He just sat there, and did not respond. I continued, "I never really knew if he was a pulling my leg. I have done some research on the internet, and never found a thing about it, and I wondered."
"Ond ya never will. They dunn a gad joba coverin it all up, ifa ya catch my meanin."
"What do you mean?"
"They never spent mich tam alookin. Kids were in there a coupla das and they blew the whole sad of tha hill ta pieces. Un they wernt rilly kids either, 15 and 17 year olds usta git married beck then all tha tam. Course, tha fect that the girl was expectin maughta had somthin ta do with tha metter. Yall never rid that in the news. They never said anythin about the dynamat, but called it a tremor, an earth quik."
"So they did not know for sure the kids were dead?"
"Hell no, the kids wunt dead. The never med it out alive, but they med it out."
"What happened then? Did heads roll?" He looked at me, and I caught it that he did not follow "heads rolling," so I re-asked, "Was there an investigation or anything?"
"Nah, it jist went away. Hey, come ere with me. I wanna sha ya somethin."
I followed him into the cave which is really just a crack between rocks. He went to the back, and pulled a huge but fairly flat rock back that was leaning against the back wall, and let if fall to the floor. A surprise to me....there was another crevice that went on further into the mountain. He took an old beat up metal flashlight from his pocket that put out a dim light like only worn out Ray-O-Vacs can, and into the opening he went with me following cautiously behind. The crevice opened up a little wider, then narrowed down and the ceiling came right down to 3 feet high, 2 feet high, and then even a little lower. I am starting to become a little claustrophobic at this point, but he keeps on going, deeper into the cave if you can call it a cave. I am pretty sure this guy will never read this....doubt if he is an internet dude, so it is safe to say that he reeked. Following him just about gagged me, but 30 feet or so into this cave, there was nothing to do but follow. I decided to take a picture or two, and snapped away.Ya bitter nut shoot thut thin too mich. Ya maught see some thins ya maught nut wunna see."
Ok, I am thinking snakes, spiders. OMG, what have I got my self into? And what time is it? I have to be at an appointment in less than an hour. Where the heck does this go??

It seemed like we wallowed through a long passage for about 30 minutes, but finally I could see a light that was more than what his sorry flashlight was producing. Sure enough, there was "light at the end of the tunnel." (Pun appreciated at this point.) I got out, and up on my feet, covered from head to toe with mud and dirt.
"Hair's whur that cav went. Tik me a few years to carve a way back into it."
"Where ARE we?" I asked. This was no place I had ever seen on Turkey Mountain, and I know ALL of the mountain and maybe better than anyone who runs or rides there, and I was flabbergasted.
"Ahm nut really sure mahself, ya know. Never bin able to figure it out. Kim over here. Ah wanna show ya somthin." I follow. My appointment will have to wait. I figure I can call and toss out some sort of excuse. We walked maybe a quarter mile across a grassy field to a large oak tree.Three graves were below the tree.
"This is whur they ended up, Richard and Annabelle."
" The kids who got lost? This is their graves? Who buried them?" I asked. Geeze, what a story I am thinking.
"Ah did. Richard was my brother. We both hada shinin for Annabelle, but she was ahways sweet on him. He was older, and I was a year younga than she was. Sims I never held a candle to ma brother. I knew they war in here when they blew that openin. At that tam, we didn't know about this place over here. Used to be able ta see a little laught, but it was to taught to git through. Turns out, Richard almost dug his way out but died about 10 fit from the openin. Little Annabelle and Richard wuz maybe 10 fit from gettin out. I dug through them rocks for 3 years before I got to em, and gav em a decent burial."
"Wow," not one of my more intelligent comments, but I was speechless.
We spent maybe 5 minutes standing in reverence over the graves. I began to look around at my surroundings, still in awe of this place and wondering where in the heck this was. He noticed me looking around, and broke the silence.
"We had better get goin," he said, and remembering my responsibilities, I agreed, but silently vowed to myself to re-visit this fascinating place again.

We re-entered the cave, and I hoped the return trip would go a little faster. It did not. Fatigue had set in, and my left foot with the PF was giving me fits, as much of the tight passages needed powerful toe pushes to get me through. About 10 minutes in, my mid section became wedged into a passage that was a little too narrow for me to get through. To my embarrassment, I had to call out to Eldridge for a little help. I was breathing heavily, and trying not to panic. Damn, I made it through one way, why could I not make it back?
"Here, gamme yer arm." He grabbed my arm, and I was amazed at the strength of his grip. It seemed like he was gonna rip my arm right off, plus this dude had not cut his fingernails in years or so it seemed. He drug me about 2 feet and it was passable from there. I ended up with a pretty nasty looking gash on my forearm, but I did make it out.

I helped him lift up the huge rock back over the opening that covered this passage. I then made a mistake. I took out my camera, fortunately the disposable one, and took a couple more shots. This somehow offended him, and I noticed he had taken a few steps back and had taken out his huge 10 inch knife. It was an old worn knife, and either rusty, or blood stained???
"Ahm gonna havta isk ya for that camera. Dint want a bincha people comin around up here ya know."
Chicken sh!t that I am, I handed over the camera (the disposable one) and said I understood. I quickly thanked him, said it was nice meeting him, yada yada, and hurried on my way. I felt quite relieved to get away, and I am puzzled over his asking for my camera. Was this cave something sacred to him? Probably so. Would he have used more force to take my camera if I had resisted? I did not want to find out.
I do plan to go back, but I am not sure if I wanna meet Eldridge again. He seemed like an interesting guy, and could probably tell a lot of great stories, but I have to say, I was a little unnerved by the camera thing....and not sure if the knife was meant as a threat or what? At least I managed to keep my Olympus! I really doubt that Eldridge is internet savvy, so reporting all this is probably safe. I did make my way to the railroad tracks, and ran like the wind (well, a slow wind) and made it to my appointment only an hour late, with not much more than a scratched up arm to show for it.

Ok, so here's where it gets off-the-charts weird. After my appointment, I could not stand it. I headed back to the cave and ran hard to get there before dark. With my headlamp, and rope in hand, I entered the crevice and went to the back where the passage was. In the back of the cave, I could see the imprint on the ground where the big rock fell. But there is not a rock laying up against the back of the cave at all! This rock that served as a door or covering is now just part of the wall, like there was never an opening at all!! After standing and scouring the crevice for a clue as to what happened, I gave it up and headed home. Somehow, being here after dark alone after what had happened today was freaking me out.

I am not through with this. I will be back.