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The Bobcat

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The Bobcat

The Bobcat

I shared, recently, that this has been an unusual and somewhat disappointing summer for wildlife sightings during my runs. There have been tarantula’s in extreme numbers, and a record year for encounters with one my favorite desert dwellers, the Horny Toad. Other animals seem to be hiding, or avoiding the human on the trail. Or maybe they are waiting for the Monsoon season to arrive (it was a no show).

Stalking

Stalking

The wild file is beginning to fill up with some epic photos and videos as the fall begins to unfold in the arid, but, thriving Desert Southwest. I have seen a number of animals, recently, and not just those that possess a rattle.

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My photography/video skill level has improved over the summer season of running on Dave’s Trail and this has been a banner year for what I consider the best photos and/or videos of a lengthy list of animals. My best photos of a bobcat would surprisingly unveil as my trail shoes tapped onto my special trail (I think I have seen two people on it all summer).

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As I crested the first hill, my eyes darted to an animal crossing my dirt track. My first thought was it was one of the two coyote youngsters I had seen in the same exact location the evening before (their home is very close by). When I have witnessed the coyotes, I have fumbled for my camera, only to see them scurry out of sight, before I can fire a shot off.

I caught sight of a jack rabbit about twenty yards down the dirt track. Ears thrusting to the clouds, these rabbits are still an odd sight. My eyeballs about fell out when I spotted a bobcat hiding within the brush a handful of feet to my right. Neither the animal with the ears nor the bobcat seemed to be concerned with my presence. They both must have seen me go by extremely slowly, in the past. Not a threat in running shoes.

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I took a few quiet steps toward the bobcat. Some excitement in the air as this was my first bobcat this summer. I usually see two or three over the oven baked season that is summer.

Feline eyeballs were focused on hoppity ears, but the scene was playing out very slowly. This was likely a very young bobcat having been ‘kicked’ out of the home and was experiencing his first days on his own. Not totally at home with hunting and not leary of humans, I was enthralled to witness nature in the wild.

Hoppity ears crossed the trail and the bobcat lazily took the bait. Seeming to be more amused at seeing an animal that was 63% ears, than needing to have a meal, the bobcat sat on the hillside for 10+ minutes, gazing ahead. Gazing, but not grazing.

I was about thirty feet away, snapping photos and getting some jumpy video on my non-stabilized point and shoot camera. It was getting dark and I got a rare look from the bobcat as I tried to get even closer. He eventually moved up the hillside, never ringing the dinner bell. I took off down the trail only to see an owl, about thirty feet away, in a tree next to the trail.

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Photo of a jack rabbit from the day after seeing the bobcat. This must be ‘the’ jack rabbit as I have come across exactly one rabbit that I can get close to (and that a certain bobcat can get close to). These hoppers are super duper skittish and when I enter the same zip code they smash their paws against the dirt in frantic rhythm and escape.

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Last Call From Her Brain

I wrote this fictional story of an ultra runner who has type 1 diabetes for a Creative Writing class I am currently taking from the University of Alaska Fairbanks taught by Diana Saverin. The story is also posted in my fiction section. The final for the class will include a revision of this story and I will re-post the new and improved version.

I met Diana while I was in Sitka, Alaska and she is the writer for an interesting follow up story on Chris McCandless (Into The Wild). The story appeared in Outside Magazine. Click the box below:


Old Pueblo Endurance Run Aid Station

Old Pueblo Endurance Run Aid Station

Last Call From Her Brain

     “If I can just reach Melendrez Pass”, mumbled Kelsey as she quietly shuffled her trail shoes along the dusty dirt path, high in the Santa Rita Mountains. At 5,784 feet the pass is not a high one, but one that she had worked hard to attain. While dimly realizing she still had about nine miles of rough, desert terrain to battle.

     Unfortunately, her battle was much deeper, more personal than those limited miles depicted on her ruffled race map.

     At the age of three, Kelsey had been living the normal life of a child growing up in Helena, Montana. Some tantrums, swirled in with laughter, pulling the cat’s tail and a quizzical nature that made Kelsey a walking textbook of childhood life.

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     Then life took a turn, that caught the Jackson family off guard and Kelsey had been losing weight, drinking extreme amounts of water and had a bewildering lack of energy. Life should not be sucked out of someone so young and usually vibrant. Her body was doing the only thing it could do in this extreme situation. Flush out the extra sugar as she now had type 1 diabetes and her pancreas was no longer making insulin, a hormone that helps the glucose in your blood get into your cells to be used for energy.

     Kelsey looks back. No one is in sight. She has been running on her own for the last couple of hours. The start gun went off promptly at 6 am and she was joined by Brad as #105 and #134 rambled forward in the dark as the Old Pueblo Endurance Run adventure left historic Kentucky Camp as the headlights bobbed and the footsteps headed north, on a chilly Arizona morning. Brad, ever complaining about sore knees, had dropped out at the Gardner Canyon Aid Station suggesting that he would rather be at home, eating pizza than enduring a ‘sufferfest’ that he actually had paid to be a part of. Kelsey had trained and felt ready for the event but there would be a few question marks as the race drew near. “You Go Girl!” yelled Brad as he stepped into the aid station. An untied shoe and an open trail running pack, with a few items that had found a new home along the course, seemed to sum up Brad’s mentality. On to conquer pizza while the K machine said a quick goodbye and strode toward the next aid station at Cave Creek and the brief thought of whether she had enough food in her pack to cover her for the coming stretch of climbs and distant aid stations. She quickly did a swipe on the last section of the table and grabbed two more Hammer Nutrition gel packs.

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     This was a challenging race as Kelsey and Brad had contemplated their options for races in the Southwest for the coming season. Due to extreme temperatures during the summertime, this race had an early March date. Runners would encounter the mid 70’s which for many stumbling out of the frozen north would feel severe.

     Kelsey had been successful with 50k races and leaned toward an event that would further challenge her and maybe give her success that she initially felt she could never achieve while having diabetes. She had been a good steward with the diagnosis and had taken care of herself as well as possible and she was enjoying better blood sugar control with an insulin pump and a cgms (continuous glucose monitor system). A cgms is an advanced way for people with diabetes to check blood glucose readings in real time or monitor glucose readings over a period of time. The combination of these two made exercising and endurance events easier to control.

     In most people with type 1 diabetes, the body’s immune system, which normally fights infection, attacks and destroys the cells in the pancreas that make insulin. As a result, your pancreas stops making insulin. Without insulin, glucose can’t get into your cells and your blood glucose rises above normal. People with type 1 diabetes need to take insulin every day to stay alive.

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     The weight of this diagnosis had sent shockwaves through the Jackson family. Kelsey’s father, John, had very limited knowledge of the new discovery that Kelsey would have the rest of her life. What he knew about diabetes could be written on a small post-it note with room left over. What he did know is that the condition is usually genetic and that no one on either side of the Jackson family lineage had diabetes. So much for that theory. For the next twenty-seven years, John and Cynthia and their other children Sara and Jake would support Kelsey as she

     Besides some extra sugar in her system, Kelsey also has a dose of grit coursing through that 5-foot 6-inch frame. She knew that that would be her insurance ticket if she needed to cash it in. Now, where was Melendrez Pass?

     People with type 1 diabetes are more likely to get heart disease, stroke, kidney failure, high blood pressure, blindness, nerve damage, and gum disease. Untreated type 1 diabetes can cause coma. It can even kill you.

     While annoying, the ‘beep, beep, beep’ coming from her insulin pump was meant to relay important notices from the mechanical wizard that relied so heavily upon. It could be a warning that her sugar was getting low, the battery needed changing, she was almost out of insulin, or that the cgms sensor needed to be changed. The beep continued while Kelsey juggled the pump, while she ran, to see what the message was. She had an unsettled feeling, deep inside, of what this particular sound might signify. ‘Sensor Expired’ is what the screen indicated. With the rush of packing necessary food, supplies, gear bags for two aid stations, and a monumentally bad night of sleep, the all-important status of the cgms had not been checked on. Now she would rely on old fashioned blood sugar checks with a glucose meter. She shuffled through her bag for the meter. And shuffled some more. No meter. She yelled in anger and frustration. Her words tumbled down the mountainside.

     Kelsey had been consumed by too much at the same time and was could not remember what her last blood sugar was. She was tired, now stressed, alone, and still a distance from the finish. She began to panic. Nearly forty miles into a difficult trail race, she had expected to be extremely tired and there might be some ups and downs in her blood sugar, which would likely affect her energy level. The fatigue had a grip on her and it was now seizing her thought process. Were her blood sugar ok?

     She continued labored motion forward, ever so slowly. Unfortunately, the next aid station was unmanned, but she had faith that there would be a good selection of gels, treats, bananas and maybe even some solid, healthy food if someone had bothered to load it into a 4 wheel drive for delivery.

     Kelsey now lacked awareness of what was around her and the beauty that was around her went by, even more slowly, as her loping run became a staggered walk. After some effort, she ripped the running pack off of her back as it fell to the ground. For a moment she stood still, not knowing what to do. Her brain needed glucose to operate and it was functioning on fumes. She had made the difficult task to deal with the pack in search of some carbohydrates in case that she had low blood sugar. She was not sure of what she needed, but it was better to eat and be wrong than to not eat at all. She knew what the consequences can be of not taking care of a low blood sugar. The sad reality is that she had easy access to the glucose packets in the front of her pack. Her mind was now on hold.

     She trembled, and slowly reached for the pack. This effort made her dizzy and she stumbled onto one knee. The thought urgently streamed across her dysfunctional organ of soft nervous tissue that she needed food now or...

     Now stretched across the dirt road she collapsed and had the pack behind her and now useless as her mind lost connection with the rest of her body. She was now in a coma and would rely on her grit and a helicopter flight to see her back at the starting line of the Old Pueblo Endurance Run the next year.

  

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What Was Supposed to be an Easy Kayak Trip

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What Was Supposed to be an Easy Kayak Trip

I have shared this kayak trip in a previous blog, but I am currently taking a Creative Writing Class from the University of Alaska - Fairbanks, and I had an assignment to write about something that had challenged me. This is the story re-told and hopefully with improved English.

Water bubbles over the rocks as it continues its snaking journey across the Arizona terrain, deep within the desert landscape better suited for cactus than a rushing river. Water, the key to life and the center of a topography that is abundant with life that calls the Gila River home. The key to life can also be a link to death. This journey settles into the rippling flow of a river that stretches 649 rugged miles within New Mexico and Arizona. I can hear the sound of life as we drag our kayaks to the edge of the water. The kayaks scrap and scratch across the barren sandbank and slightly slip into the liquid highway as the shore ends and the adventure begins. The wildlife echo sounds of life beyond our visual realm, but they are there, at home in this somewhat harsh climate. I was not to be part of this scene, this experience, this moment. Billy had asked for car support along the 15-mile stretch between Hayden and Kearny, Arizona as he wanted to kayak this section. He is an experienced river kayaker and has a very secure, safe, sit-on-top kayak. I would not be so fortunate in the mode of travel that did find me on the Gila. This was a lake kayak with an open seating area (no spray skirt).

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Billy and I had met through a 24-hour mountain bike race near Tucson, Arizona. The connecting piece was an inquiry on Facebook for adventurous people with type 1 diabetes who wanted to form a team that would tackle the undulating cactus-studded hillsides north of town. Team No Limits would include the two of us along with Kent and Olivia. All of us possessing a nonworking pancreas, a factor that would make challenges like this a bit more challenging for the riders with a chronic disease.

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The phone had rung a day before the Gila River trip, and Billy had an offer or shall we call it a proposal. He had located a second kayak, and we could now insert me into a seat. My mind swirled temporarily, but he reassured me that he had run a nearby section to our proposed section and it was an easy section. Sit back, float and enjoy the wildlife was the vision in my mind. I had a background in sea kayaking and the thought of sitting back and floating sounding appealing. I had also had a rough experience during solo kayaking on the ocean in Alaska. Mild stuff for most people who have spent sufficient time in a kayak, but I had a deep, searing fear of water. Do not ask me to go swimming unless you have a life jacket I can adorn. Well, not quite that extreme, but a pure liquid environment does little for my confidence level.

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A few photos and videos were captured as we stroke our paddle forward then back, propelling us gently in a westward direction with a higher than usual current thrusting us from the back.

The calendar shouted for short sleeve shirts and shorts as the calendar turns placed us just in front of the simmering heat of the summer. We were looking toward a perfect day to enjoy the river as it took us to new places and memorable experiences.

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Video of the Journey Below:

I hear my GoPro scrap and thud against a floating landmine of logs and branches as I thrust the kayak directly into the tangled and twisted mess. There is a small waterfall a few feet from us; the GoPro splashes into the water. Thankfully, I had connected safety lines to the camera, my gear, food, and medical supply bag. A quick session on the water and we decided to run the short drop as we lacked an adequate route to go around the hole of turmoil. A quick bump and drag and we were back on a river that took on a serene, peaceful, quiet tone.

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Subtlety, the Gila began to change its nature as we continued to our take-out point. It was still a relaxing time on the river, and I enjoyed a different kind of adventure tucked into a life brimming with an outdoor lifestyle and many excursions that often challenged me but have also blessed me greatly. I was not going to let diabetes stop me from living life to the fullest. Billy has the same mindset.

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We were approximately five miles into a journey that would end after fifteen miles in the town of Hayden, Arizona. The subtle changes notched up a few levels as the river would narrow at points, exposing the tumbled shoreline of fallen logs and brush. I began to piece the equation together realizing that if I got caught amidst the minefields the force of the water against me and the debris would cause me to capsize. Was I ready for this? I did not have much choice as our vehicle was another ten miles downriver and there was little access to a major road. The safety of my many ocean kayaking expeditions with others within a few strokes of you, in case of trouble, was lacking on this trip. Billy and I tried to stay close together, but as I followed his lead, I was slower and was sometimes getting caught in some minor issues with the river causing distant to separate us. I no longer had ‘support’ as I lost sight of Billy and I was unable to squeeze through a narrow patch in the river that was free of brush and logs, and I temporarily found myself pinned to a log, my head was swirling as I tried to prepare myself for what was about to happen.

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The boat began to tip, and my heart leaped as I plunged under the kayak and into a dark scene that had me disoriented and slightly panicky as I now had to claw my way to the surface and keep the boat and oar within my grasp. A few underlining bullet points on my ‘Dave This Could Be A Serious Moment’ list:

1. I had my insulin pump attached to my shorts. This vital piece of medical equipment keeps me alive and helps maintain proper blood sugars. It is not waterproof. Would it continue to function?

2. My contacts allow me to see well and to avoid as much debris zones in the river as I can. Would they come out as I opened my eyes underwater to gauge where I was?

3. On one of the plunges, I had trouble coming to the surface as I was snagged below the surface in a battle with debris that had entangled me.

4. I had numerous cameras to capture the adventure, and a number of them were not waterproof.

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When I came to the surface, the ordeal was not quite over as I floated down the river with an upside down kayak and an unsure opinion of whether I had everything with me and that everything was staying dry and still working. Next up was getting to the shore and the monumental task of dragging, pushing a kayak full of water up the angled shoreline so that I could empty its contents to prepare for the next plunge.

I would experience the underside of the boat seven times.

By number seven, I had not seen Billy for over an hour. Billy has an easy going nature and was likely not too concerned about the status of the red kayak and its occupant. He had tried to reach me on the phone, but it was nestled deep within a layer of waterproofing, and I did not get to it in time. We finally chatted, and he assured me that he would wait for me at the take-out point.

At one point we had reconvened briefly, and we promptly picked the wrong branch of the river to float. It was a side branch and embedded with an overwhelming amount of everything that you do not want to have to take a kayak through. I took another plunge into the river, but this time I had assistance from Billy on a problematic shore to free a kayak engorged with water. I did not know how I would pull the kayak up one more beach and flip the kayak. During an epic moment, I had accidentally broken one of the carrying handles. It was now more difficult to flip, and I was seriously tired, and the nerves were firing.

I would be tested one last time as I chose the wrong channel to travel. The kayak and I once again bobbed along as the scenery passed, ever slowly. I will say that by this point I had gotten much more comfortable in a rather unusual circumstance that found me in and out of the womb of water. Even with the risen current, the Gila River in this section is not a deep river. I was able to stand most of the time with a rare occurrence of toes not dabbling on the rocky bottom.

While getting more accustomed, I was ready to call it a day. Thankfully the day had not called my name. Number seven was a rare spot on the map as there was a picnic area where I had taken on more water than I cared. The sound of a truck rumbling down the dirt track and parking right in front of me was an emotional stirring of relief and a hint of joy as I kindly and wearily asked for a ride.



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Kayaking on the Gila River

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Kayaking on the Gila River

The Gila River was flowing at a yearly high rate (357 cubic feet per second-C.F.S.) and I received a phone call from Billy Joe, an adventurer who also has type 1 diabetes. Google unveils a record flow at Winkelman (our entrance point) of 55,000 C.F.S.! A slight difference from our day on the river but it would be enough flowing H2O to make things interesting.

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Initially, I was to join Billy and a friend to support his journey down the Gila River from Winkelman to Kearny, Arizona. The Gila River is not a large flow of water but for the arid desert Southwest it is a vital piece of the life puzzle for the area. It is not a deep river, although I can share that in many points it was over my head. We will get to my means for analyzing this fact, later.

Billy Joe on the L. Photo by Billy Joe's friend.

Billy Joe on the L. Photo by Billy Joe's friend.

I would receive a phone from Billy the night before the trip and he had secured a 2nd kayak so that I would be able to join him on the river instead of along the river. While I have a decent background of sea kayaking this would be my first time to river kayak. No spray skirt nor bear spray. With a bright and early start I scrambled to pack items for the trip. My nature is to start packing well before an outing and meticulously go over the details. I am a planner and know that I need/want diabetes supplies, safety and camera gear, food, etc. I headed out the door a little short on the full list of items. While I am not aquaphobic, I dabble in some level of -ic that is right below aquaphobic (water panic).

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The journey would start well and gave the indication that it would be a simple float. River was moving us along at a good clip and thick, lush vegetation crowded along the vital water source streamed by. Soon the river narrowed under a railroad bridge and the nestle of branches and trees encroached upon our water highway and revealed a drop off. Grabbing nearby foliage, we analyzed our situation and decision to 'ride' the drop or negotiate around it. Negotiation appeared to offer minimal opportunities so we rowed forward. No problem and we continued on our way to Hayden then Kearny.

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At some maze of roots and branches and a narrow point with a funnel of faster flowing water I ran into a low hanging branch. When this happens the outcome is somewhat settled. You can do your best to push off, duck, or skirt the 'object' but if the current is flowing in its direction and/or you pick a less than adequate line, you will be stopped. While you may be furiously tackling the water with your oars the liquid freight train continues forward and the laws of physics begin to evolve. I was flipped.

Billy Joe taking it easy. The only good landing area we saw until near the extraction point.

Billy Joe taking it easy. The only good landing area we saw until near the extraction point.

Into the river I went and I was now submersed, pawing upward to break the surface. At the same time, you, the kayak and your oar are riding the current, thankfully at the same speed. At this point it is a crushing reality that I need to keep that kayak in my grasp and capture the oar. Pure misery if any of those vital pieces got caught up in the thickets and I was still moving downriver. Really difficult to land on the steep slopes and go back upstream to retrieve anything.

Billy Joe's Video on our kayak adventure.

This is not the first time I have been introduced to a body of water while kayaking. During an ocean kayak venture, I unvoluntarily exited the kayak and found myself in Sitka Sound (Alaska). Thankfully, it was close to shore and I had a spray skirt. Bobbing in the Gila River, I now had an open kayak that was now full of water. I knew how heavy 90 ounces of water was to run with. Imagine the weight of a boat full of water. Billy Joe had been just ahead of me but he was out of sight and screams to know that I had been hung up. I secured the oar, righted the kayak and found a spot to 'park' the kayak while I did some bailing to lighten the kayak and pulled it up the steep slope to turn over and drain the aqua pura.

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This would happen a number of times and I began to get more comfortable with an equation that would have overwhelmed me in the past. Do not ask me to go out on a raging river and practice kayak exits, but I was taking some steps (strokes) in the right direction by the end of the day to getting more comfortable in a watery environment.

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Me and my gear (I had tethered the living daylights out of my gear bag) did survive and I am happy that I had this opportunity. It was a learning experience and I realized that many things could have gone wrong. Yes, oh yes, the insulin pump brilliantly kept on ticking. Thankfully, we did not encounter these landmines and did have a memorable, but good  ish time on the Gila River.

I am working on a video of this. Take a deep breath!

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Why I Bungee Jump

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Why I Bungee Jump

A question my parents, friends, relatives and unknown strangers ask (Why I bungee jump). Why would you jump off of a perfectly good bridge? Or a bad bridge for that matter?

From the Navajo Bridge near Page, Arizona. A Perfectly good bridge in the sensational Grand Canyon. Photo by Dave Nevins.

From the Navajo Bridge near Page, Arizona. A Perfectly good bridge in the sensational Grand Canyon. Photo by Dave Nevins.

My adventurous life of jumping from bridges, out of airplanes (tandem jump), base jumping (tandem jump), rope jumps and swings from bridges, mountain climbing, rock climbing, caving, and organizing extreme events (long ocean swim races in Alaska), etc. all goes back to a single moment in life while I lived in Boise, Idaho. A clarifying moment of who I would become and how I would find a little extra zest in life and how I would make decisions as opportunities would cross my path.

My Sony POV video.

My neighbor Curt strolled by one morning and asked me a simple but complicated question. Would I like to join him and a few others to bungee jump off of a bridge near where I lived?

Kayakers near the start of the paddle down the Colorado River. Photo by Dave Nevins.

Kayakers near the start of the paddle down the Colorado River. Photo by Dave Nevins.

My mind played some games with me and I inched toward creating a reason I would or could not jump. My heart said, No, We are Not Going That Direction! A few more seconds of swirling brain waves bouncing in my head and I took a deep breath.

Video of me from my camera. Filmed by Sean Crosby.

Ok, maybe a few deep gasps for breath. I walked next door, rattled Curt's door and semi-confidently uttered, 'Yes'. 

My thought was simply and in a somewhat child-like manner were that I could not come up with a solid, valid or even heroic reason to not do the bungee jump.

Colorado River from the bridge. Photo by Dave Nevins.

Colorado River from the bridge. Photo by Dave Nevins.

That is how I approach decisions to take on new challenges in life. Is there a good reason not to do this?

Snapshot from my Samsung 360 Camera.

Snapshot from my Samsung 360 Camera.

Interesting timing as Matthew Butterman, a type 1 diabetes acquaintance, contacted me for an article to post online at Diabetes Daily. He knew that I did not live the usual lifestyle of a person with diabetes. In the 'Out of the Box' zone!

He did an outstanding job on "Be Extreme! Seven Lessons for People with Diabetes Doing Extreme and Adventure Sports". Thank You Matthew for reaching out  and sharing a niche lifestyle for those with diabetes. Article link below:

Snapshot from my Sony POV.

Snapshot from my Sony POV.

As mentioned, the timing was unique as I was doing a bungee jump at the Navajo Bridge (Grand Canyon-Arizona) very soon (all photos and videos are from this jump).

Snapshot from my camera. Filmed by Sean Crosby.

Snapshot from my camera. Filmed by Sean Crosby.

This was to be an extra special experience for me as it had been ten years since the last time I had connected to a bungee cord. I had contacted Eric Lyman (Over the Edge, Inc. Bungee) to see if we could orchestrate a group get together at the bridge. Bingo on seeking adventures!

Me - Testing Gravity. Photo by Barry Glazier.

Me - Testing Gravity. Photo by Barry Glazier.

Bryce Myhre - video 

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Bungee Eric had selected April 1, 2018 for our jump. No, not an April Fools Joke! It was a nod to the Dangerous Sports Club and their first bungee jump on April 1, 1979, helping to usher in a sport that I was now attached to. Pun intended. A crazy group of people from England who traveled the world doing very interesting, unique and crazy events. Also an amusing read.

Composite created by Eric Peffer Photography.

Composite created by Eric Peffer Photography.

Composite created by Eric Peffer Photography.

Composite created by Eric Peffer Photography.

I journeyed up to the bridge with Eric Peffer, who would create some excellent memories of the bungee jump via his trusty camera. We were joined by Barry and Sharon Glazier (friends from Kanab, AZ) and some of their friends.

Me - ready to almost lose the camera. Photo by Barry Glazier.

Me - ready to almost lose the camera. Photo by Barry Glazier.

Alyse (video above) had come to the bridge with her family (with the Glaziers) to watch some crazy people jump off the Nav. She would get a thumbs up from her parents and would make an exceptional leap.

Alyse - Composite Photo by Eric Peffer Photography.

Alyse - Composite Photo by Eric Peffer Photography.

Spinning, bouncing, hanging upside down, and........ I had caught the camera and now was trying to put a camera back on my head. Photo by Barry Glazier.

Spinning, bouncing, hanging upside down, and........ I had caught the camera and now was trying to put a camera back on my head. Photo by Barry Glazier.

The day would go very well as Abe and Bryce balanced on the railing, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and they were in flight and no screams ensued. It was now my time to scream, or not, as I did my best to balance on the narrow railing. Did I happen to mention that the wind was fierce, howling at those whose scary moment 467 feet above the Colorado River was now turned up a couple notches.

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My years and years of leaping off things seemed to have soared back through my veins and I was at the low end for nerves rattling. That 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 did jingle a part of my brain that had semi-retired on my last jump in 2008, but I managed to jump in somewhat good form.

If 1 hits and you are still standing, you owe Eric a 6 pack!

From my Sony POV.

From my Sony POV.

I enjoy plummeting to the earth at race car speed but the bounce back up toward the bridge will flip flop your innards in a special manner. I expected this, but did not expect that my camera would fly off my head. Miraculously, I would catch it. Only issue now was I was spinning, bouncing and upside down and would have to put it back on my head. An incredible stroke of luck (maybe a bit of skill) but I now envisioned dropping the cam into the river far below.

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I was successful in mounting the Sony and I clicked into a free ride up to the bridge far above. A few anxious seconds, but so glad that I had a life moment on the media card and the life changing experiences that doing such extreme things in life can produce.

Moments such as these do not happen sitting on the couch and wondering what if. Say yes to what may challenge, scare, or freak you out. The rattling anxiety is temporary, the memories are forever!

Sunset from the historic Navajo Bridge.

Sunset from the historic Navajo Bridge.

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Fat Biking is a Thing

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Fat Biking is a Thing

I have shared that I am a runner at heart but adventure is plugged into my dna. For the most part I thrive with new challenges and experiences. Yes, fat biking is a thing and I am slightly addicted after riding through the desert with Billy Joe. Billy Joe was on our No Limits team of riders with type 1 diabetes who competed in 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo (mountain bike race). In his bike arena sits mountain and road bikes and two fat bikes. Just enough for the two of us to take on the desert. 

Vlog from the Fat Biking Adventure

We zig-zagged through some neighborhoods that soon found us in front of a wash and unlimited sand and rocks. Time to ride, but very, very slowwwwwwwlllyyyy. Oh, and those fat bikes, having tires that are better suited for go carts, are also extremely heavy. They do allow you to ride in terrain that is not suitable for other types of bikes.

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It was grand to be back on a bike after a long hiatus off of the saddle. I hope to get back on my mountain bike but will be challenged by the coming three digit temperatures that will swell the desert with a zapping heat that frightens me with the horrifying thought of having a helmet on my head. 

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Video below gives the viewer a glimpse of a rather fun sport. #8 in my vlog series.

The bike path above us was bustling with weekend riders and runners enjoying their time on pavement. It was a beautiful day and the scenery, while stark in areas, afforded the quiet moments to power the fat bike through sand and over a landscape of rocks, rocks and more dang rocks. 

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While those monster tires churned through the varied sand and rock obstacles, the bike was unsuccessful at finding victory in deep sand. Or, my skill set was not quit as deep as the unforgiving layer of sand.

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I did fall a few times but only one fall will be highly featured in this blog. Almost done with our route through the Pantano Wash, I found a notable rock that had my name on it and I crashed to the desert floor. Also crashing was my insulin pump which had a short but sweet meeting with the mentioned rock. The noise that my pump squealed out was loud, irritating and the sign of death as our ride was now over (except for the pedal back to Billy Joe's home). Pump was now dead and I needed to make my way to a syringe and insulin and eventually a previously used insulin pump in my archives. Not a stunning way to end the day but an excellent way to spend the day. Thanks go to Medtronic for promptly zipping a new insulin pump my way. 

Snapshot from the video after the crash.

Snapshot from the video after the crash.

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Oracle Rumble - A tough race, but I did cross the finish line

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Oracle Rumble - A tough race, but I did cross the finish line

The morning was chilly and dark, and I was sleepy, slumped on a bus crammed with strangers as we rolled toward a nondescript parking area near Winkleman, Arizona. Our bus ride began at Oracle State Park (Oracle, AZ) and we were being shuttled a long distance North of where I had hoped to receive a medal, signifying that I had survived the Oracle Rumble. Our legs or a savior vehicle would take us back to the park and I would find out which method of delivery that this race would unveil. 

Matthew Nelson (Race Director) addresses the runners at the start

Matthew Nelson (Race Director) addresses the runners at the start

I had haphazardly jotted my name into the small section of the application that mentioned long distances, remote areas, headlights, medical care, etc, etc. that was the Oracle Rumble 50 mile race. I felt really good about this decision, at least on paper.

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Bus chatter revealed that the two closest runners to me were from San Diego and Seattle. I felt blessed that I lived a mere 1/2 hour from the start line but knew that would have no bearing on whether I would finish, only that if I was in pain and anguish, I would be home soon.

Aid station at 8 miles

Aid station at 8 miles

I overheard some details of the race from the year before (first year of the event). It was 11 degrees at the start line. Another blessing as it was in the balmy mid 30's as we pitched our warm clothes and extra gear into the vehicles heading back to Oracle State Park. 

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While the Race Director, Matt Nelson had tooted a rifle around the grounds of our start area, he gave us the preparatory speech at the start line with no rifle in sight. I anticipated a fired off rifle to start our episode across the desert, but, was disappointed. Maybe the rifle was for any runners who might start their journey before the countdown. 

The remote aid station at 15 miles

The remote aid station at 15 miles

My race started off well, but took a crash dive about 20 minutes in. My insulin pump began beeping at me. An annoying tone that was a message to Dave that there is an issue and that he needs to take care of it, immediately. My immediate response was the realization that while the pump whined that the battery was almost dead I was 27 miles from a AA battery. I had checked the pump battery situation the evening before and it was over 1/2 full of power. I should have swapped batteries at that point but have not had a battery lose over 1/2 its gusto overnight. Another lesson learned and I turned off my CGMS (Continous Glucose Monitor System) that was giving me readings of where my blood sugar was. Rather important stuff for a person with type 1 diabetes running an ultramarathon. I would have to take blood sugars with a blood sugar monitor. That extra time would crush my hopes and plans of winning this race. Oh wait, I still do not have that speed. Maybe next year.

Decision time

Decision time

I am pretty good at adapting and plodding forward through epic craziness. As I watched my blood sugars go from 119 while on the bus to 222 and 298 (about 3 miles in). This hyper supersonic action of a rising blood sugar was not a result of eating anything. Nerves? Not sure, but another factor that I would overcome. 

Galiuro Mountains in the distance

Galiuro Mountains in the distance

The blood sugar would slowly crawl down to a good level and I gained some extra mojo now that I was almost 'normal'. The course was not in the normal category as it did start with a downhill trend, but would become a real up and down affair. I never did see the actual feet gained on this race but I did read a number of accounts from mountain bikers who had raced the length of the Arizona Trail (almost all of the Oracle Rumble is on the Arizona Trail) and I saw many who stated that this section is the most difficult one that they encountered.

Galiuro Mountains in the distance

Galiuro Mountains in the distance

I trooped forward, mile after mile and was creeping toward the aid station at about 27 miles. I had started to feel the cramps developing and knew from my previous ultra that I dearly wanted to avoid cramps. I had spent a considerable amount of time stretching and taking longer runs but my genes were living the wild life in the cramp department.

Oracle State Park

Oracle State Park

I sat down and fed my face, my cramps and my muscles at the aid station and made a decision to exit the 50 miler and settle for the 32 mile event. Actually, the decision had been made a number of miles ago and I knew it was the right choice and I was very glad that I had taken on the challenge and finished 32 miles. I knew that a lot would have to come together for a 50 and that 32 miles ain't bad. While I hover at an age where I shouldn't be doing what I am doing (and with type 1 diabetes) I have done 2 ultramarathons, a 24 hour team mountain bike race, crewed for the Race Across America (bicycle) and will be doing a bungee jump at the Grand Canyon in about 10 days, all within the last year and a half. Live life fully! 

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