We'll start with a bit of catch-up, rapid-fire-style:

• Running sucked. Knees hurt.
• Broke back. Back hurt
• Started physical therapy. Knees and back still hurt.
• Ran. Hurt more.
• Doc said stop running. Stopped.
• Knees stopped hurting, back got excruciatingly painful.
• Started running again. Back got better, knees got worse.

In case you are wondering, I've been sticking to the letter of the Doctor's orders, running when he tells me to, resting, icing, heating, electrocuting, stretching, the works. I've been a good boy for a change! Let's continue.

• Therapist says, "Get a cortisone shot".
• Finally get around to going to the Doc, got cortisone shot.
• Run some more. Knees are better.
• Back still hurts, but not as bad.
• Yay.

That brings us up to speed in preparation for today's [mis]adventure.

Fun in the Sun

I wish. We've had snow coming down almost daily since the beginning of the week (it is Friday today, in case you were wondering). I can't really afford to take any time off the training schedule, as it's the only thing holding the pain in my back to a sane level (on a scale from 0-10, 0=no pain, 10=passing out, I sit at a 3 consistently when working out. Shoots up to 8 or higher when I'm not. Yes, I've nearly blacked out from it before, but don't tell my wife :) ). I ran on Monday, just after the first snow of the week. We had about 2 inches at the house, about 4 on the mountain a few hundred feet up from us.

Set the Scene

I am not a typical road rat when I'm running. We live on the foothills of some beautify (albeit desertish) mountains, slashed by ATV, game, and foot trails. When I run, I run trails. The experience is so much the better for the scenery and the mountains offers an unparalleled challenge.

I have several "favorite" routes- ranging from 2 to 13 miles. I've been running a 4 mile route for the past month as I've struggled to let the knees and back heal. This route takes me about a mile into the mountains then cuts North for another mile until it butts up against the fence line of Camp Williams (an Army facility). The terrain is pretty rough- field and wild hills with a swath of a path cut by farmers and base personnel. Apparently, it gets a fair bit of snow too.

Monday's run was great- the weather was clear, the snow on the ground was crispy and offered fair traction, and it wasn't too cold. Things started to change on Wednesday, though I was still able to get a good run in without too much of a weather impact.

Then there was today.

At Least I Had My iPhone

I left the house and headed for the mountains with broken clouds and a weather report calling for a "chance" of snow". We had some snow flakes floating on the breeze as I stepped out the door, but not nearly enough to detract me after my 20 minutes of stretching. It was cold (25, wind chill bringing it down to sub-twenties), but I had three layers. I was prepared!

When I hit the mountain (350 yards from the house), I noticed that the snow was getting deep. Looked to be about 6" on the ground, drifts upwards of a full foot. I tried to keep to where I knew the path would be, which actually proved to be less of a challenge than it may sound. I had tire tracks to follow for the first quarter-mile. After that, I was cutting my own path.

If you've ever trained by running in sand, you have an idea what it's like to run in the now. Take that and multiply that by 3 and you've scored the difficulty of running snow without the appropriate snowshoes. Add a 4% grade and difficult terrain... you should have the picture.

The weather held until I reached the base fence line. It's the two mile mark and my turnaround location and I had kept a decent time, regardless of the conditions. As I turned the corner and started heading for home, a large gray mass began gathering over the fence behind me, moving my direction. I started making good time as the wind picked up and pushed me down the hill toward home. Then the clouds began closing and the features of the distant landscape slowly began disappearing. Ever more quickly, closer artifacts began fading into a white mist until all that was left ere the footprints in front of me. Finally, those were gone.

It took about 5 minutes for things to go completely white. When the footprints disappeared, I knew there was some potential for serious trouble. The path was unmarked, I was at least a mile from home in an area only snowmobiles could access. I had less than a hundred feet of vision, closing at times to 10 or 15 feet. Although I had put on three layers, they consisted of two technical shirts and a fleece- not nearly enough to hunker down and weather it out.

Two options remained: I had my iPhone and my (hole-ridden) memory of the landscape. I'm not directionally challenged, but I am certainly not gifted, so I settled on a compromise:

• I would use my (potentially) flawed memory of the landscape, plus a little feeling around with my feet for footprints (they might be covered, but they were still there) and see if I couldn't make it to the tire tracks leading to home.
• If, after 10 minutes of running, I couldn't find the tracks OR lost the footprints at any time, I would whip out the trusty iPhone, pray the battery hasn't frozen to death, and use Google Maps and it's "Locate Me" feature to navigate my way home.

And no, I didn't stop running to figure this out. I kept going, feeling for footprints where I thought they should be.

After nearly exactly 8 minutes, I stumbled into soft powder of a tire-sized trench. I kept to the trench (which sent powder into my shoes straight away) until I broke out onto the roadway, which took me all the way home. As I rolled in the door, I checked my watch. I posted a better time than Wednesday, despite the rather poor conditions. Wow. And phew.

So, here's the post-mortem, the things I've learned from this experience:

• Age makes you feel guilty about doing adventurous things that, not so long ago, would have been an adrenaline rush.
• I'm still not old enough to make that stop me from doing it again.
• Running actually is a pretty good way to keep warm in a snow storm.
• It's also a very good way to get you more lost.
• Two technical shirts and a fleece isn't enough to weather a small blizzard. Not by a long shot.
• The 10 Essentials really are essentials. All right, so I've know that for a while. I've always broken my 10 down to the 3 that could make all 10 (can you figure out which three?), but sometimes, conditions make all 10 absolutely critical.
• This cortisone shot seems to have done the trick.
• Snow is cold. Snow + wind + clouds is colder.
• ...and so much more.

Enjoy the winter months. Be smart and don't do what I write about doing here. If you're a Metge, or related to one, expect things to go wrong in the worst possible way. That way, you will never be surprised when they do.