Saturday, September 13, 2014

first magnitude marathon

So far, I've enjoyed exploring in Florida. During the dog days of summer, this includes an internal exploration of a unique fatigue that can only be experienced in heinously high temperatures and humidity. It's proven painful, but necessary to test physical limits in these conditions, because my daydreaming has no limits...

I've already conjured up a nonstop self-supported 150-mile Coast to Coast traverse of the peninsula from Atlantic (St. Augustine) to Gulf (Withlacoochee Bay) utilizing the 110-mile Cross Florida Greenway, Florida Trail and St. John's River to Sea Loop. I think about it often on daily 5 to 10-mile trail runs while buzzing from the irrepressible heat. I naively fantasize the comfortable numbness miraculously enduring for the entire traverse while Jimi's waterfall plays in the background.

Back to reality, I can't remember the last time I ran such a daunting distance, especially in these conditions! 

It was time for a little reality check (just a teeny, tiny wafer-thin marathon) starting/finishing from the First Magnitude Brewery at 3:00 pm today and hopping onto the nearby Gainesville-Hawthorne State Trail. One of the goals for this run was to reacquaint myself with some familiar (and not so familiar) pain in the 90+ degree heat. Lily joined me (on bike) and snapped some pics (below):

Heat of the day, ready to roll?!
The trail skirting Paynes Prarie
Getting swampy...
Cottonmouth crossing
Fried at the turnaround (markers start 1.75 miles from brewery)
Florida's mountains
Lucky to have Lily along for the ride!
Evening light (and shade) on the return
Deer crossing
Severe heat exhaustion symptoms set in after finish 
...Nothing a little beer (plus A/C, potato chips and water) can't fix, right?
It was all I could do to finish in under 4 hours (3:56). I'm happy with this effort. I also (successfully?) experienced some interesting pains, including severe heat exhaustion. Shortly after finishing, I felt a tingly sensation in my extremities, lips and even my tongue. It was hard to stand up without feeling faint. It seems that getting to A/C ASAP is part of the answer. The take-away is that I have a lot more to learn about myself and this crazy state before crossing the peninsula on foot...

Tuesday, September 09, 2014

small fish

Severed access to 6000 acres of conserved lands 
The other day I was trying to do some trail maintenance across Hatchet Creek, but was turned away by the fact that the water level had risen to 6 and a half feet from afternoon thunderstorms. I have been running just about everyday, sometimes during the heat of the day with my head throbbing from the humidity and heat.

Cypress forest near Newnan's Lake
I find myself becoming more efficient. But the landscape still has the upper hand. I came across my first water moccasin in the middle of an overgrown forest road, its cotton mouth signalling to keep away. I decided to turn back. It's exhilarating to be the small fish, but also frustrating. It's still trail running and I'm grateful for any opportunity to explore this wild land while most hide inside...

Pygmy rattlesnake crossing road

Tuesday, September 02, 2014

florida's mountains

People think that when the Spanish named Florida they meant that the soil was full of gardens. But people were wrong. The Spanish were talking about the sky. In Florida skies, clouds are great flowers that float like hyacinths on water, burgeon, and disappear. They are misty fields whose crops wisp into the distance, as if you were passing so quickly that you couldn't quite make out what was growing and knew no more than that it might have been something to wear soft and white and clinging to the the skin. There are skies that grow flowers black as the deepest earth and these flowers swirl over your head and open, and other flowers take their place until the whole sky is black and whirling, and nothing in the sky is still. Looked at another way, you could say that clouds are Florida's mountains.
   No, not Florida's mountains, because in our lifetimes mountains stay where they are, jutting up from the earth like shards or, if they are old mountains, like women's breasts. But Florida's clouds are always changing.
   Stop, you say, let me get this straight. But the clouds refuse, like a child spinning in her new party dress who, as she turns, is growing up, until suddenly the white lacy skies are gone and there is only rain...
-Lola Haskins, A Florida Marriage from The Wild Heart of Florida

Sunday, August 24, 2014

terra nova

The lilmat has landed. Now we're learning to live in & love a new landscape outside the comfort zone....

Thursday, August 07, 2014


Leaving the mountains for the flatter lands soon… The near decade that we’ve spent in WNC has helped to forge us into who we are. We are grateful.

The gravity of the blue wall’s majesty is what first drew us here to live, breathe, drink and run. The muse for this blog resides in these hills.

We’ve been blessed with great friendships in these mountains. Through foolish pursuits, we’ve been supported and encouraged.

We take the mountains with us: I met and married my wife in these mountains. I found my faithful dog in these mountains.

Perhaps you and I met and shared communion here at one time. We take all these memories and give thanks.

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Friday, July 25, 2014

frank on fridays

we are here
home, this moist home,
where moss grows on rock
we drink the air, in rhodo thickets
and i smile, and give thanks for this home
if you’re in these mountains, you’re lucky enough...