Running Fuel

Running Fuel

Directions

1. Pour about 1/3 cup of oats into a bowl. +/- 128 Cal
2. Add about 1 1/2 T of peanut butter. +/- 141 Cal
3. Pour in enough honey to stick everything together while mixing the ingredients. About a table spoon. +/- 64 Cal
4. Place mixed contents onto a sheet of plastic wrap and make sure that it is contained.

+/- 333 Cal Total

Approximate calorie values taken from webmd.com

A Few Tips
To avoid a mess in your bag bag I have found it helpful to put it in plastic wrap followed by a zip-lock bag.
Drinking water directly after consumption will help to keep the fuel from lingering in your mouth.
Try adding raisins or other simple ingredients to the mixture.

Living the High Life

We stop at red lights and stay inside the lane lines on the road. We turn on our blinkers at intersections. We have to obey speed limits and do what the signs say. Wouldn't it be nice to live the high life?

What is the high life you say? The high life is away from all of this. It's where the sun shines and the trails go on for miles. Stop lights never bother you. The only lane lines are the cliffs and rocks. The grass waves in the wind. The leaves shake in the aspens. Your company is your own breath and the sound of your pounding steps.

I went running the other day and the dog to human ratio was almost 1 to 1. I didn't hit a stop light one. Traffic consisted of a few mountain bikers a handful of hikers and a just about that many dogs. I had a little bit of a mix up at a split in the trail and a bit of foot and paw traffic, but they weren't near like the stops I sometimes have to make waiting to cross the road. The dirt helped so my knees didn't ache after I ran. Six miles came and went beneath my feet. Then I had to get back in my car and return to the world of Provo, Utah.

I know we need all the traffic regulations to keep us safe and that if the only roadways were trails my life would be much harder. That doesn't mean I have to like it.

"The mountains are calling and I must go."

-John Muir

Stranded on top of the world!

     Calculated steps by sandal shod feet took me higher and higher up into the canyon. Sucking air in and blowing it out again. Powerade and chia seeds fueling my fatigued body. Over and over I scanned the ground looking at the obstacles in the way. Maiming a foot on a run like today's was not a very good option. Long day for marathon training takes it's toll. I broke out into the campground and took the gravel road ever upward. I thought it special to be able to look down and see my own feet as I ran. The road behind me, I continued on a trail and stopped at a high point. I was stranded. I had come so far and there was no elevator down. I knew that if I tried to run down, the probability that my knee would hurt was very high. I could climb, but going down would have been torture. Looking back now I wonder what I would have given to have had a stair case that always went up and ended at the same elevation, like those I have seen in optical illusions. An attempt to run down part of the hill only racked the outside of my knee with pain. I was stranded on top of the world!

     After some more running I made it to a parking lot. God has a way of putting people in the right place. A paraglider hadn't wanted to soar that day do to the conditions, and so was able to get a ride down in his car. It made a very long run into a manageable one. Some days you look back
and know Someone was looking down on you.

     I've never snorted cocaine. I've never used meth. I've never shot up heroine. Yet I am familiar with the high not seeming to last as long as it used to. I feel sometimes as if I don't stay tired anymore. The burning and the panting and the pain stop after a few minutes and the life that I felt slips away just like that. My body fatigues. I find that out later when I put it though the paces again. I find it very possible to get addicted to exercise. 

     A person can run from their problems for a while, but they eventually have to stop and face the music. No, not the music that has been drowning out all but the loudest screams their heart and brain can muster. The endorphins eventually seem to run out and they find themselves in the same situation they were before, plus physical fatigue. No one can run from themselves forever. No one can run from their problems forever. I would much rather a person let out anger exercising than in a plethora of other more negative options, but it just doesn't solve everything. Just like a drunk wakes up the next morning remembering the problems they tried to forget the night before, a runner finds themselves in the same life before and after the run. WAKE UP!

     Does this mean I will stop running and exercising? Are you kidding me? No! Not until my legs give up completely and fall off from use. I just know that running is not the answer to all frustrations in life. Facing the music isn't fun sometimes. It is of the utmost importance to make good decisions.

     Wrestling made me realize that we can't be scared to make decisions in life. If you don't explode on the bottom you most likely won't get up. You will stay on the bottom and be beaten into the mat. You have to decide to get up. Once that whistle blows, you stand, you sit out, you switch, you granby, you try to stand again, anything to get yourself in a better place. Even if you do something wrong, at least you are moving.

     We may be tempted to try to pause our stopwatches during training runs. The race clock never stops. It doesn't care that you are tired. It doesn't care that you need to go to the bathroom. Time never stops. Time doesn't care that you are tired. Time doesn't care that you messed up.

     This doesn't mean that no one cares. Even when it seems like no one in the world knows what's going on. Hit your knees and you will find someone that cares.

     Anger with oneself may be the most difficult to handle. Others can be forgiven and if you desire never seen again. You never get away from yourself. You can run around the world. You will never get away from your own mind. You might as well be at peace with it. 

Pedal Hard

     Sitting over at my old apartment on a bean bag, watching Tour de France. There were a bunch of bikers jockeying for position and pedaling hard. These guys RIDE their bikes. The talk was turned to the wrecks which had happened this year. Former champions were already out of the race. Watching road biking is sometimes about like watching paint dry. I  enjoy road biking as much as the next, but watching it isn't exactly the most exciting thing in the world. 

     I hung around and talked to my old roommate Joe about girls. Then we wanted to go do something. I had a problem. I had to get my bike back to my apartment before dark. I have no reflectors on my bike, so any reflectors would have had to have been on my shoes or my backpack, if they even had reflectors. I had no headlight. I was wearing jeans and a green shirt.

     Headphones in and helmet on, rock battering my eardrums I took off and then turned around. As the wind hit my eyes my vision was blurred and took a while to clear. I pedaled and maneuvered my way through town back toward my apartment. I reveled in the exertion on my legs and the speed as I rolled on my hard tail.

     I am not a totally reckless rider, but I take my risks sometimes. I will take corners quickly, ride with traffic, and jump around at times. I am normally pretty conscious of my limits and the traffic around me. When riding you have to ride for you and drive for everyone around you.

    Tonight I looked up some statistics about cycling. According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, Traffic Safety Facts, "In 2012, 4,743 pedestrians and 726 bicyclists were killed in crashes with motor vehicles (National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, Traffic Safety Facts)." I found this information at this site. http://www.pedbikeinfo.org/data/factsheet_crash.cfm#No1

     Why wasn't I one of them? Well one big reason is that in 2012 I was out of the country. One of my friends during this time said that he didn't want to become a statistic. I don't really want to become a statistic either. What kept me from being one in 2010, when my dad and I took our epic bike trip up into Canada and back down? We certainly had the opportunity to become roadkill more than once. Riding through a canyon in the rain with log-trucks running up your back isn't exactly a party. Hence the miracle of everyday life. Heavenly Father looks down on us.

     Pedal hard! Live life!

To all the shotgun jokesters of the world.

     I would first like to preface this post. I myself am guilty of making the jokes about needing a big stick because my sisters were/are/are going to be pretty. Also, someday I will probably have a daughter and someone should show me this post.
    Today I saw a picture of a beautiful girl on Facebook. There were comments on the picture about how pretty she was. How great! People can build up someone's confidence a great deal by telling them that they look good. Then it was almost ruined for me by two posts. Dad, Mr. Man came in and joked about how he had a gun and other "intimidating" characteristics he had. He's probably a great person, but obviously it has been on my mind for a while now. Could it be because I have had a bad experience with someone's dad making similar jokes? Probably.
     I have something to say to any dad who does anything like this! If you want to gain my respect it's not going to be by cleaning your gun as I walk in the door. I'm from Idaho. Almost everybody has one! How would you like it if the next time someone came to take your daughter on a date they had an AR-15 strapped to their back?
     "How many times has someone actually come to the door with a gun when I was going to take their daughter on a date?" you might ask. A grand total of zero. I have been in a situation where the girl's brother had a shotgun at some point. So why am I so angry?
      I must be old fashion, or maybe not considering that this tradition has been going on for a while, but I would like to share with you some of the greatest examples in my life.

     When I was growing up my dad was my wrestling coach. Anyone who has been around wrestling for very long should know that wrestlers tend to be the tougher sort and not always the most well behaved of people. We fight for our sport, is it really a surprise that we are a little rough sometimes? I have a sister who is about three years older than me and she is beautiful. (She now is married and has two kids.) My dad is about as level headed as they come. He decided to help out with wrestling practice with the high school team. He gained the respect of many of the wrestlers there. I don't mean that they feared him. I am talking about respect. The kind of respect that goes both ways. He is a strong man. He has hands that have become hard from years of work. He is so fast that by the time you notice that he is setting you up for a shot he is already on your legs and you are headed for the ground. 
     One time a few young men were overheard talking about him. One said that he was cussed at by my dad. One of the others said something like he might have gotten mad or yelled at you, but he didn't talk like that.
     Long story short he respected young men and gained their respect. He is the kind of guy that looks people in the eye and shakes their hand. Why does he even need to get out the gun? He certainly has one!
     My sister was at seminary when her boyfriend flipped her some money and told her she could have the night off. This was totally inconsiderate and inaccurate. Mom caught wind of that and she told the boy off herself. My sister said that she was too hurt to tell him off herself. This boy was over six feet tall. Did my mom care? No. At least it didn't seem to stop her from doing what she did. She has gained respect herself. When this boys little brother, who is my friend, was acting up it didn't take her doing much for him to say, "Yes Mrs. Hoch."
     So maybe you aren't a wrestling coach or a fearless woman. Please find a way to gain respect and respect others. I just hope that people can talk to one another. Get to know us. (Us being the ones taking out your daughters.) Maybe we aren't the monsters you think we are.
     

Y Run June 17, 2014

     Looking up into the Wasatch, I could see the misty clouds hanging over the peaks. The cool air touched my face. I have wanted to hike in misty mountains for some time now. I went in my house though for some time.

     I read Born to Run as the rain fell. The pages turned and revealed more stories of persistence hunting and running in the desert. By the time I went out of the house my mind had become filled with the idea that I could run for miles. I ran toward the gym. I saw the beautiful mountains in the East. Beautiful spring green toward the bottom faded into snow as the altitude increased. It looked like something out of Lord of the Rings. I wanted to run up into the mountains. I thought about the story that that would make. I continued toward the gym. Upon arrival I put in my information to get into the gym. I found out that I would need to pay to get in. Pay! Really? I went out and took down an email for a job posting. I ran east.

     The BYU Creamery served as a supply station. I grabbed a granola bar and a Powerade. Sweat on my face made it look like I had been out in the rain. To my knowledge the rain had stopped already. The girl at the counter asked me if it was from the rain. I told her that I had been running. She said that she was a runner. We conversed about the difficulties of running at certain times in our lives.

     I started again toward the snow and wore a hot spot on my toe. I decided to walk. As I did I found two interesting people. They had what looked like an over-sized tricycle and a scooter. I found out that they were from Saint George, UT. One had hit his face in an accident on the tricycle. They stayed there as I continued my march toward the snow.

     The fading light in the parking lot by the trailhead made for some great picture taking. The sunset was beautiful. Raindrops dotted the leaves of the plants.

I was intrigued by a stairway made of rocks as well. 

     I sat on a rock and talked to my grandma who had just made a trip with my mom and sisters to a funeral in Wyoming. They had had some adventures. It was so nice to just be up high and feel the sun. I sat there for a while just soaking it in and drinking my Powerade. 

     Anyone who has been up to the trailhead under the Y knows how steep the road is. It is brutal to climb and jarring to come down. My feet slipped forward in my Vibram FiveFingers as I took short steps down the hill.

     I saw them again for just a moment. The trike was rolling down the hill. I continued down the hill and talked to the individuals who had been riding it. They said that they would make another run. I asked if I could take video and pictures. They didn't seem to have a problem with it. I set up on a corner to get video of them coming down. One hooped as he came down on the scooter. I caught the other sliding the trike down the road. Ammon and Dan were the adventurers of the day.