Yep, you read that right, THE GRAND CANYON.
Given my foot issues, the very prospect of this was daunting. Four hiking days; decending and ascending over 7200 feet; a 30lb pack on my back with everything I need to live for those precious, life altering, unwashed days and no way out if anything went wrong. EEK! I was scared. Soon though, the fear began to fade and an odd excitement took its place.
This was my chance. If I could make it through this, I could declare my foot, healed. A broken tendon does not withstand this sort of abuse without being, dare I say, somewhat fixed.
We booked the trip and started "training". Weekend hikes, endurance rides and some running. We even tried to slim down a little. Nothing could have prepared us for what we encountered and I could not have hoped for a more glorious ending.
As August rolled around, I started feeling antsy. Only 30 days until "THE" day. The day we'll don our packs and head out. I could feel my stomach do a couple of loops at the prospect. We were smart. We hired the Cadillac of adventure companies, Just Roughin It. So the logistics, equipment and food were covered. Now it was not just a matter of physical fitness.
The better half and I put the pedal to the metal for all of August and really upped the ante on our fitness program. Interval training, long rides in the blazing sun and weight specific training had us feeling good. We also did some test hikes with full packs to get a feel for how we'd do from a weight and balance perspective. In addition, I used the techniques in the foot book like a religion. Stretching, icing, stretching, massaging. Anything to make sure the flexibility of my tendons remained intact.
August 30. Our flight leaves for Phoenix. We are in the air for four plus hours and cross a couple of time zones. By the time we get to our hotel, it's 11p our time. We are tired but oddly hungry so we head out for a little food followed by some much needed rest.
August 31. We meet our driver in the lobby of the hotel at 4:30a! We didn't sleep well the night before for obvious reasons. We take our duffle bags and head for the van. We are excited, tired and a little nervous. Or at least I am.
We arrive at the trail four hours later. We'll begin our hike in the heat of the day. All of us are nervous. The group consists of my friend Laura, my better half's brother, the better half and me. We pick up a singleton, a lovely woman from Vancouver, BC named Lenora. She hasn't seen 90 degrees for most of her life. We sit in silence at the prospect of hiking in what might be 115 degrees!
We pick up our guide, The Steve. An awesome guy with a wicked sense of humor and superhuman strength (he carried all of his gear and all of our meals). We are ready.
The hike begins with a descent into the Canyon. We will have descended just about 4000 feet when we reach the first camp site. It is hot when we start. The trail is narrow and treacherous.
By the time we reach the camp site, my feet feel numb. I am very anxious. I am not sure that I can go on and am almost certain that my feet will not be able to take this abuse and last. I put on my flip flops and try to move slowly around the camp site. I flex my feet and stretch them gently. I long for ice. I know the river is 50 degrees but it's dark and I can't find the river now without a significant effort. I eat my delicious dinner, massage my feet and head for the tent. REST. RECOVERY. Tomorrow is another day.
The next hiking day is a bit of a blur but somewhere outside of Phantom Ranch I felt my feet connect to the Earth. I have the sensation that after this hike, my feet will be healed. I feel an internal peace. I smile. I have this inherent knowledge that this is the type of immersion therapy my feet need and that I needed on so many levels. I let go and let it happen. I feel content and pick up the pace.
At Phantom Ranch my wishes come true! I find a wonderful little sliver of the Colorado River where I can "ice" my tired feet, a glass of wine (OK two) and the chance to splash into river in my shorts for a quick whole body cool down. I love it. I am in the moment.
The next hiking day is a blur. We arrive at Indian Gardens and camp. I realize that the next day will be the last and I feel sad. We hike to Plateau Point and see the most breathtaking views I've ever seen. I am entranced.
As we crest the South Rim on the very last day, I check my feet. Covered in moleskins for blisters but they are still structurally whole. They have survived and so have I. I did it! I feel tears rush to my eyes. 100 yards to go. When I get there, I will have done something that only 1% of the people who have visited this great, massive canyon will have ever done. I feel a sense of pride like I've never felt before in my life. I feel myself coming back into that bad ass body that I knew so many years before. The one that got me through four half iron races and three 6:34 miles off the bike in my first triathlon. That body. Those feet. They are back. I am grateful. I am thankful. I am ready for the next adventure.
I stare out at the Canyon for a long time before I bid it farewell. I will likely be back but the first dance is always special. Learning each other, supporting each other and allowing for the experience of both. It was the most amazing experience of my life. A healing transcendence to the next, most amazing me that I can be.
Posts
