In the beginning of my ascent, I couldn’t have been happier. Quickly, churning up Mount Spokane, smiling and waving at the occasional hiker or biker, the miles seemingly flew by. After reaching Kit Carson Road, a symbolic halfway point for this climb, the effects of the previous four miles began to sink in, deep.
Thank God for fruit snacks! Soft, lightly warmed, delicious, glorious fruit snacks. Two bags didn’t satisfy the great demon that had awakened in my belly so I went for the big guns... Thank God for Clif Bars! Fresh out of the oven that had become my waist pocket, I ferociously gobbled down an entire bar. The beast at last, was silenced.
Yo da lay he hoooo! Tired, thirsty and sweaty the summit was in sight. Finally, I could stick my flag pole in the top of this sucker. A very hot and exposed shortcut up the snowmobile corridor, exasperated most of my water. No time to dilly dally. This elevator is going down. And down I went.
Snap. Crackle. Pop. That’s usually not the sound you want to hear from your ankle. Ok quick risk assessment. Swelling? A little. Pain? A little. Delusional? A little. Three weeks out from my first race of the season and I decided to wear sunglasses through a heavily shaded, heavily rooted section of trail. I believe Mr. T has a catchphrase for people who get themselves into situations like this.
I really don’t want to start a pity party for myself though. It’s my own fault. Nothing can change the initial damage I have done to my ankle. All I can do is rest and treat the injury until it is fully healed. God only knows if I will be able to toe the line in three weeks. But I can tell you one thing for sure, I will never wear sunglasses through that section of trail again.