Mount Grant 9/11 Memorial Challenge (Mineral County, Nevada)

 

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was laying in my bed in Edwardsville, IL, when my phone started ringing off the hook. I had returned from a trip to New York City just a few days before and several friends, watching the horrific events unfold at the World Trade Center, just wanted to confirm that I was back home and out of the danger. That day changed the a generation and we are still, 18 years later, feeling with the repercussions. Over the years, numerous events have been organized to memorialize that tragic day and honor those that were lost. Among them, is the Mount Grant 9/11 Memorial Challenge, which my friend, Gen, made me aware of last year.

At 11,285', Mount Grant is the tallest peak in Mineral County and lies within the Hawthorne Army Depot. This means public access to the mountain is very limited, but the Army grants permission to event once per year to allow hikers a chance to traverse the seventeen miles and seven thousand feet of elevation gain. A first for me, this event is a supported hike, which means aid stations with refreshments, first aid, and snacks are placed every three or four miles along the route, much like a marathon or half-marathon.

Spending the night at a hotel in Hawthorne, NV, I awoke early and drove the ten miles or so to the event starting line. I check in and claim my participants shirt. Though the event was scheduled to start at 7:00 AM and I'm here right on time, it seems some hikers were allowed to leave significantly earlier. It's not a race and so, it doesn't really matter, but I might have taken advantage had I known that. No worries.

I strap on my light backpack and start making my way up the mountain. The first mile or so is on a paved road that runs through residential areas of Walker, NV, but the route quickly turns to gravel and heads into a steeply-walled canyon. Just after passing through Army's no trespassing gate (which has been opened for the event), I see a fellow event participant over on the side of the gravel road trying to reach something with her pole. I wander over and offer my assistance. The left side of the gravel roads gives way to a very steep slope of loose rock and gravel leading to a small stream below. As I approach the lady, I see that she has dropped her sunglasses halfway down the slope. She's not having any luck getting them with her hiking pole and so I offer to climb down and retrieve them for her. She is concerned for my safety, as the slope is really crumbly and steep, but I assure her that I can get them without injury. I remove my pack and lower myself carefully down the slope. Six feet or so below, I grab the shades and carefully, pull myself back up. As I return the sunglasses to their owner, she thanks me over and over. I was glad to help.

Even from the very start of this hike, the incline was noticeable and now after a couple miles, I'm starting to feel how much my body is working. I pass a few other hikers before seeing a few of them stopped just ahead of me and looking up the steep hillside to our right. As I approach, I see what has their attention. A group of big horn sheep were making their way down the mountain to get some water from the stream below. Now, human and big horn stare cautiously at each other. Beautiful animals. Not wanting to disturb them any more than we already have, I move on and encourage the other hikers to do so as well.

As we make our way around the horseshoe trail, ever climbing in elevation, we begin to see our destination in the distance. Mount Grant rises above the ridge, and while not extremely prominent among the other nearby peaks, its height leaves little doubt to which one we are headed to. The next several miles of the trail are relatively uneventful, though I'm still amazed at how constant the climb is. There really is no downhill at all, or even flat sections for that matter. The first couple of aid stations are a welcomed site. I take advantage of the cold Gatorade and snacks being offered. At the second station, about seven miles in, I also decide to take some ibuprofen, as I can feel my right knee starting to talk.

Just before reaching the eleven mile mark, we encounter another aid station. This one is preparing cups of fresh fruit salad, which is a welcomed sugar rush. I take a few minutes to rest my aching knee. From here the trail, maintaining the constancy of the climb, starts up a series of long switchbacks, which continue all the way to the top. This spot offers a great view of the remainder of the hike, another six-plus miles.

From here, my knee really starts slowing me down. Getting old is a terrible thing, but I'm determined to finish this trail. I failed to mention the occasional 9/11 memorial picture/banner that have been placed along the trail, reminding us of what this event is all about. Another one of these banners comes into view after I make my way around the third switchback. This particular one is a print of the famous picture of the three NYC firefighters raising an American flag over the rubble of the fallen towers. I think about the bravery of all of the first responders on the scene that day, those that survived and those that were lost, and I tell my knee to suck it up. There is no way I'm not making it to the top of this mountain today. It's a little thing, but in my mind, it's a way to honor that bravery.

Finally reaching the final aid station with the summit in sight, a transport van passes me and asks if I want a ride to the top. I tell the friendly drive that I will make it to the top on my own power, but I will gladly take advantage of the ride back down if she's still there when I reach the top. She nods and continues the half-mile or so to the top. My knee is really killing me at this point, but I force myself to finish. At the top, a couple of jeeps have been parked in such a way to act as the anchors for a large American flag flowing in the wind, which is pretty strong up here as you might imagine. Below, we are granted a magnificent view of both Walker Lake and the expanse of the Army Depot. Were it not for smoke rolling in from the active fire near Susanville, CA, it would be a perfect view.

I rest a few minutes and then climb into the van that passed me on the way up. The event organizers intend for hikers to be bused back down the mountain and knowing how much the impacts of downhill steps would hurt my already aching knee, I gladly take advantage. After a short time, we start driving down the mountain the way we came. Finally, arriving back at the fruit salad aid station, we get out of the van and await a second van to take us the rest of the way.

As we wait, a couple of us lean on a folding table and begin talking about the hike we have just completed. Without warning, the gentleman on the other end of the table from me, passes out and slides off the table. I and others quickly move to check on him. He's unresponsive and his arms shake slightly as he lies on the ground. With my training, I'm ready to jump to help him, but luckily, there are three highly trained fire-fighters at the aid station and they immediately move to respond. After only a couple of seconds, the gentleman regains consciousness and asks what happened. He has no memory of how he got on the ground or the last ten or so seconds in general. The responders take his vitals and find everything to be in order. As he answers questions, it seems as though he was well hydrated and had been eating enough food to sustain the active day, which leaves both the fire-fighters and I in something of a quandary as to what just happened to him. Every indication is that he is perfectly fine at this point. He is A+O4 and seemingly has no affects from the fall. As the second van arrives, he moves into the passenger seat completely under his own power. The responders suggest that he visit the hospital upon our return to town and I tell them I will monitor him on the rest of the way down. 

After a twenty minute or so drive with my co-hikers and lots of great conversation, we finally arrive back at our vehicles in Walker. I check on the gentleman that pass out once more and he seems to be fine. I remind him to visit the nearby hospital and wish him well. Reviewing my GPS, I see we have hiked about 17.1 miles and climbed just short of 7k' straight up the mountain. My knee is really hurting as I load myself into my jeep and start the two-plus hour drive back to Reno. I'm registered to run an 8k tomorrow in Reno, but my knee may have other plans. Though in pain, I'm really glad I got to participate in this great event.

Sunriver Half-Marathon (Deschutes County, Oregon)

My primary reason for this trip to Bend, OR was to run the Sunriver Half-Marathon. I'm working on a streak of running at least one half-marathon in each month of 2019. While looking for a nearby option for my September installment, I stumbled across this one and knowing that Sunriver is only about twenty miles from Bend, it seemed an outstanding choice. As any craft-beer lover will tell you, Bend (though small in population) is one of the most important cities  in terms of quality brews and craft-beer culture. I'm ecstatic for any excuse to visit some of my favorite breweries in the small Oregon town. As it turns out, my wife also has some friends that live in Bend and so, she joined me for this trip and we spent some time with her friends at a couple of the breweries.

After picking my bib up in Sunriver on Saturday afternoon, we headed on into bend and spent the rest of the day enjoying the beer-culture and the company of my wife's friends. I was trying to watch what I ate and how much I drank, knowing I was going to be running today. We got back to our hotel at a reasonable hour and I proceeded to crash. I'm not sure if it was my anxiousness about the race, the unfamiliar bed, or something I ate, but I woke nearly every hour through the night. When my alarm finally went off at 5:00 AM, I didn't feel as tired as I should have, but I knew I hadn't slept well. I stumbled into the bathroom and began to take care of certain things that need to be addressed before a long race. Afterwards, I packed my stuff and departed for the starting line back in Sunriver.

It's cool this morning. The thermometer in my jeep shows 48 degrees as I check my gear at the Sunriver Resort Lodge, a sponsor of the race, as well as home to the start and finish lines. While a bit brisk standing still, it should be great once we start running. I head into the lodge to use the restroom one more time and then start doing some stretches in the warmth of the structure. Many of the other runners have a similar idea and crowd the lobby and attached lounge. 

As start time approaches, I head outside for the singing of the national anthem and then enter the starting line chute. There appears to be about two hundred runners for the event. Not a bad turn out for a race in the middle of nowhere. I get my headphones on, tie my shoes and then with a verbal countdown and a gas powered horn, we're off.

The first several miles of the race follow the paved trails through a well-groomed golf-course attached to the resort. The course has some minor rolling hills, but is generally pretty flat. As my training has been pretty much non-existent over the last couple of months, I don't have high expectations for myself on this half, but I start out at a pretty good pace. The sun is just starting to rise above the trees of the surrounding pine forest and begins to glisten off of the recently-watered fairways and greens. It's quite beautiful and a great place to run.

After only about three miles, I can feel my left knee starting to ache. At moments, the pain gets pretty intense and I'm forced to walk a lot more than I had hoped. This has been happening far too much as of late and I may need to get this checked out. I realize I'm getting old and starting to fall apart, but I'm not ready to succumb to the ravages of the years just yet. With the pain now coming in waves and forcing me to walk quite a bit, any hopes of a respectable time go out the window. I set my mind to finishing though.

As the course leaves the golf course, it meanders through some wonderful bike trails the community has built through the forest. It really is a quaint and serene setting for a race. All of the other runners are incredibly friendly and several ask if I'm okay when they notice my limping. I thank them for their concern and push on. 

The course takes us over a few waterways and through some neighborhoods before returning to the lodge. As I make the final turn before crossing the finish line, I force myself to run at a good pace. I know my time will be abysmal, but finishing strong is always a morale boost for me. My official time is 2:48:51, which is horrible, but perhaps enough of a motivator for me to start training again and even get this knee examined. For now, I'll numb my pain with a few post-race snacks and a complimentary beer.