On Tues, Jan 7 I headed out for what was supposed to be a routine long run of 12 miles in preparation for two goals. Short term, doing the 20-mile route at the Wilson Creek Frozen 50K on Jan 18; and longer term staying on schedule with my training plan for the goal of hitting 50K in the time limit of 6 hours at the end of March (http://24hour.pickledfeetultras.com). I had only run once on trails since completing the Foothills 50K Frenzy back at the beginning of October, and that was several weeks prior, before Thankgiving. Only one trail run in three months?! Yikes. If I didn't want Wilson Creek to completely kick my ass, I needed to log some more trail miles, stat.
I knew snow and ice were factors, so I studied my Ridge to Rivers trail map for a route that was... long enough, exposed so there would be minimal ice, and not too remote. I specifically sought one of the trails that had multiple access points "in case something happened." In hindsight it's tempting to try to call that foreshadowing or a premonition, but in truth I seek that criteria for most of my solo runs, no matter what time of year.
I considered running up Rocky Canyon Road, but ultimately decided not to due to the lack of restrooms, and the unrelenting up followed by straight down. I wanted more of an undulating trail, since I was out of practice. Thus, I planned on Corrals Trail, up and around in a "U" to the end of Bob's Trail, and return. I knew that about a mile of Corrals was in a little ravine following a creek, which would probably be icy, but the rest should be fine. I actually wasn't familiar with Bob's. Just the day before, there was this on the Boise Foothills Trail Conditions facebook page:
Before heading out, I verified with Husband where I was going, how long I expected to be gone, and about what time I should be home. When I got to the trailhead, I took note that mine was the only vehicle in the lot. I looked at the hills all around me and they were clear. I thought I recognized that frozen bit in the trail condition report, and felt I would be okay. I decided to leave my Snow Trax behind. The run started off clear for the first two miles. I encountered only one other person; a man with a dog that ran straight at me on sight and wouldn't respond when he called. I had the pepper spray in hand, I tell you what! Turned out to be nothing. Usually does, but I do not trust strange dogs that won't mind their Master.
When I came down into the ravine, it was a lot icier than I had counted on and I was wishing I had those Snow Trax. It was high noon, and I thought the sun would have softened things up. Not so. I adjusted, slowing down, shortening my stride, walking and mincing my way across the ice. I emerged on the other end, and climbed back up out of the ravine to "the rocks."
The trail was clear for another mile-plus, but then began to descend down the north side (i.e. the shady side) of a hill into another little creekside ravine and the ice appeared again. It was beautiful! A winter wonderland... but I was having more trouble on the ice this time. I'm not sure what was different in this ravine, but the ice seemed slicker. I was slipping around more.
I passed the 5 mile mark and thought I should be getting close to the trailhead at the far end of my route. With the ice in mind, I was starting to consider turning around before the Bob's trailhead. Maybe I was a little distracted, maybe there's nothing I could have done differently... the next thing I knew *BAM* I was on my butt, gasping in pain. My perception split in two -- one part was blinded with pain, the other, smaller, part was detached, aware. I realized I was hyperventilating, moaning on each breath, huhhnnn huhhnnn huhhnnn huhhnnn.
The logical part took charge. Inventory! What hurts? OK... only butt and right wrist. (huhhnnn huhhnnn huhhnnn huhhnnn) Can you move? Roll over! (huhhnnn huhhnnn huhhnnn huhhnnn) I rolled to my left onto my knees, cradling my right arm in my left. (huhhnnn huhhnnn huhhnnn huhhnnn) Crap. Breathe! Control your breathing!
Teeth clenched, I forced myself to suck in a long breath and let it out slowly... Again... Again. Unclench. Breathe deeper... Agaaaain... phooooooo.... I felt my Self merge into focus; the pain wasn't overwhelming me now. Shit, my arm sure hurts. Can I move my fingers? Ow! Not really. A little. Okay. What's next? Run's over, I guess! Ha! Can I go back to the car? No, no way, it's over 5 miles back to the start. Okay then, it's shorter to keep going forward to the trailhead. There's only one way out, the same way you got here!
As I stood, I absently glanced down at where I fell and noticed several grapefruit-sized rocks. I wondered if I had hit any of them in my fall. No way to know, for sure. I took a long draw off my water, and started walking, hugging my arm to my chest.
It was slow going. I was still following the frozen creek through an icy ravine, and now I was being freakishly careful. I came on an icy decline that nearly paralyzed me in fear of falling again. Even though I could walk, I didn't know if I had broken my tailbone; however, I was about ready to sit on my butt and scoot down anyway. It took me a long moment staring at it before I could get a handle on my fear and think. Under the circumstances, I took the liberty of breaking a trail etiquette rule and shuffled down in the powdery snow off the side of the trail.
When I emerged from the ravine, I attempted calling Husband to meet me. I briefly considered calling 9-1-1, but just as quickly discarded that idea. As uncomfortable as I was, I knew it wasn't life-threatening. I didn't yet know just what I had done to my wrist, but I felt a moment of gratitude that it wasn't my ankle! Or my ribs, or skull! I could have fallen into the creek. Getting wet in sub-freezing temps, now that would be life-threatening.
Apparently, I wasn't out of the woods just yet, because the call wouldn't go through. I was still out of cell phone range. I walked some more. Tried again. This time, it connected long enough for me to say, "Honey, I need rescuing," and then the call dropped! Oh, no. Now on top of everything I was worried about Husband being worried. I kept walking.
It took two more tries before we could sustain a conversation. I told Husband where I was along the route, and we agreed on a meeting place. Still, with the walking! I ended up having to walk at least another mile farther before I got to the end of the trail and popped out into an upscale neighborhood. I can only imagine what a sight I was emerging cold, tired, dirty, and broken from the wilderness like some wild thing.
I shambled down the road, hoping that Husband would find me soon. By happy coincidence, a lovely tiny gal stepped out of her home to let her tiny teacup chihuahua out for a pee right as I was walking by. She saw my predicament and offered me a ride out of the neighborhood to the main road. I gratefully accepted! To protect her privacy, I won't post her name, but her timely help was certainly "from the heavens." She dropped me off at the main road (with my pledge to Pay It Forward), and Husband picked me up. We drove back up to my starting point to retrieve the other vehicle, then both drove down to Emergency, me one-handed with Husband right behind.
I got checked in, got assessed, got some x-rays and ... Survey says?! Broken!
>----- side view
top view ----->
right arm
radius, distal
comminuted fracture
A couple hours, a splint, a pain pill and a prescription for more, plus a referral to a hand specialist later, I was on my way home to lick my wounds and ponder the wisdom of trail running in January....
(Coming up next ... What does the specialist say?)
1 comment:
Hey, somebody pointed me to this blog and I noticed I know that broken arm from the BTR Facebook group! Hello! The last half of Corrals and all of Bobs was an icy mess that week. I almost ate it at the creek crossing there. Hope your recovery goes well!
Ryan
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