Duke City Fit 14 spring web

Spring 2014

Take Me, I’m Free

Livin’ It and Lovin’ It Around Albuquerque, New Mexico

What Are Those Things on This Guy’s Feet ?

Duke City Fit Spring 2014 • Angel Peak

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Springtime 2014

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Duke City Fit From the Publisher

Ken Orth

It all happened, I think, because I fell asleep in the desert. That and the dang bone fire. Do you know how many times I’d made a fire out of old dried up cholla bones prior to that night?

I’ll tell ya. None. Nada. And why I did it that night... well... your guess is as good as mine. It was just an urge I had. Though truthfully, there’s not a whole bunch of stuff to burn up there in the Watermelons. It is a desert, for Pete’s sake. The choice is really cholla bones or the twisted gnarly branches of scrub junipers or stunted pinons. That’s about it.

On a lucky day. If you are NOT lucky or you’re not paying attention, you might not even get that. But I was and I did and I guess I think that’s why things transpired as they did... on that spring day so very long ago.

At that time Albuquerque, the city, wasn’t anywhere near as big as it is today.

That tram thing, it wasn’t there. Heck, that road, the tram road, it wasn’t even a road.

Not really. It wasn’t much more than a path... a path that pickup trucks trespassed onto now and again. The pickup trucks were often packed full of wildly hormonal teenage boys and multiple cases of warm, cheap beer... especially on Saturday nights when the moon was out and the future was beckonin’.

I know that’s when I got my first real taste of the Sandias at night. That and warm PBR. It was kind of a rite of transition in those days. We called that beer-bash place “Whitewash Canyon” because that is what it looked like... like someone had spilled a couple gallons of white paint down the front of that granite cliff. Heck, maybe they had. But if so, it was before my time, cuz it was that way as far back as I can remember. I tell you what though, that thing sure did glow in the moonlight.

Especially during a full moon. It was kinda spooky. Eerie. Very cool.

It was a full moon that night I went up there. The night in question. The night with the bone fire. Actually, that was part of the reason I went that night. I knew there’d be a full moon. More light, I said. But really that was just a reason I tried to foist upon myself. It was actually because the full moon might well add a weird feel to the whole thing. Some goosebumps, maybe, though I’d never admit that to the boys.

It WAS a little scary, I have to admit, going up there by myself at night. There are things that live up in those mountains. Things that’ll hurt ya. But I’ve always seemed to be able to make my peace with the stuff that lives there, both the animals and the hurtful plants. They’re just trying to get by, same as me. I felt a kind of kinship with it all, if you know what I mean. I figured that one day I ought to spend an entire night with ‘em. SO that was what I was doing. You might say it was a calling I had.

I parked the old pickup truck down off the path in an old arroyo bottom and picked my way up Whitewash Canyon, cuz it was the one I knew the best. It was just an hour or so before dusk. I carried an old, ratty canvas pack that I’d had forever. It was a beatup Army surplus thing I’d inherited from my dad. I treasured that thing for some reason, even though it was heavy and a couple of the brass buckles were looking a little worse for the wear. Within that pack I was rather

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minimalist. I carried a wool blanket, a bedraggled Army poncho, a canteen of water, and a bunch of matches. I didn’t know if I could get a fire going up there or not, but I sure didn’t trust myself to do it with a single match. Twenty maybe.

I wandered up into the mountains without much ado. I kinda went where my feet led me, without thinking about it too awful much. An arroyo here, a ridge there, an old deer trail with deep, fresh hoof marks in the sandy soil. I did stumble upon some bear scat in an arroyo bottom, oily and fresh. Looked to me like maybe that darn bear had been eating prickly pear leaves. I didn’t think they did that, but what do I know?

I like to sing when I walk. I just do. It bugs the boys most of the time and they tell me to stifle it. But on this evening I was by myself as I walked, with no one to begrudge me my songs.

So I sang. Sometimes they were quiet little love songs that I’d never in a million years sing with the boys around. Sometimes I’d belt one out full throttle.

Church songs, mostly, because those are the songs I know. I actually get to practice them once in a while on Sundays without somebody telling me to shut the heck up... although, ya know, I did even get some looks in church now and again when I’d really get carried away.

The “Battle Hymn of the Republic” was a favorite of mine, though I’m truly not all that keen on battles OR republics for that matter. But I surely do like that song. And I can blast it out, like I did that night: “...he is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored...”

I don’t really have any idea just what in the heck that song is all about, but I always figured it wasn’t so much the words that mattered, anyway. It was the feeling. It was the music. It was making a joyful noise.

And I did. And I was.

You know what? I could’ve sworn that the desert mountains were enjoying my singing that night. They echoed it. They enhanced it. They sang it back to me. Really. After a while I started hearing a coyote wailing away in the distance, adding his harmony to my own melodic attempts. I’d sing a little louder and he’d wail a little louder and by golly weren’t we just the full moon duet?

It was VERY cool. And the singing, believe it or not, was actually how I found the spot. The camping spot. The place where I chose to make my bed that night.

Or, more accurately, it chose me.

It was a grotto. Or what I came later to know was called a grotto. I didn’t know it then. It was kind of a small clearing... a desert clearing of sandy gravel free of plants and rocks. And it was completely surrounded by granite boulders. Walls almost. Tall and solid. It had a little passageway between a couple of boulders which was how I got into it. It was almost like a cave, except that the top was open to the sky above where the full moon was just beginning to shine down into it benevolently.

I found it only because my loud singing came echoing back to me out of it, strangely amplified. Reverberating. I followed my ears in the waning light and found the passageway, nearly hidden, by the echoes of my own voice.

It was a perfect place! Hidden and comfortable. And the acoustics were outta sight. I cut loose happily, and out there in the desert I heard my buddy wail away as if in agreement. Good find. Good choice.

Because it seemed like the thing to do, and because I’d carried those darn matches all the way up there, I figured I’d try to build a small fire in my new home. I wandered around outside it for a bit to see if I could find any dead wood, but I had no such luck. What I did find, however, were the dried, skeletal remnants of a couple old chollas.

The bones. That’s what I called them because that’s what they looked like. Old cactus bones. I’d never used them for a fire before. And really, it seemed a little strange to be using them now. A little mystic, somehow. But, it was what I had... what had been provided... so who was I to question it?

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Duke City Fit With that, he lifted an object out of his lap, an object that I had I built a small fire in the middle of my secret place. A small not noticed was there, and he handed it to me, almost reverently, “bone fire” I called it, and chuckled at my own play on words.

Bone fire. Bonfire. I wondered for a moment if the name similarity over the fire. It was thin and long and wrapped in leather. Old, soft leather. It was a leather bag. I opened it carefully, glancing up might be more than a coincidence. now and then at one or the other of my attentive fireside guests, in Another coincidence, then, was that the bones from which childlike eager anticipation, like I was finally receiving a longI’d made my fire had had a little bit of sage bush tangled up sought birthday gift and I was trying to draw out the drama of the in them and as the fire took hold I smelled the heady aroma of unwrapping, though I had no idea what was within that wrapping. smoking sage. It was almost like incense. But better. So I dutifully They both watched me, silently, smiling, as I drew out the object. wandered back outside and gathered up some sage branches which I could add periodically to my humble fire. It seemed like the right He nodded at it with his head and his eyes as I held it up in the meager light. It was a flute. thing to do. And it smelled great.

“It is yours, now,” he said.

I sat, cross-legged, in front of my aromatic fire, my back up A flute? A wooden flute. Long and thin and dark and polished against a granite wall, the entry passageway across from me. I to a sheen that reflected the firelight and seemed to glow in the patted the granite boulder as I finally sat, acknowledging quietly moonlight. I could see and I could feel the curves that had been that it, he, and all of his buddies here-around were probably older worn over time into its ancient body. They fit my fingers perfectly than... well, older than humanity itself. Older than me by a longas I held it up, like it was made for me, though I had never, ever shot, that was for sure. And probably wiser. I asked them if by my held a flute like that in my life. spending an evening in their midst they would see fit to bestow It was old, I knew, and it was more than just a flute. I knew this, upon me a bit of their accumulated wisdom. Their knowledge. too. I looked at the two of them, a question forming in my mind. I Through osmosis, maybe. Or maybe through the vibrations of didn’t know how to play a flute. Why were they giving this to me? the ever-oscillating quartz crystals that I knew were imbedded “You will learn,” he said. “It will teach you.” throughout each and every one of them.

Later, I realized that I didn’t really know which unspoken It was those self-same quartz crystals, I knew, that caused these question he had answered... How could I play a flute? Or, why were mountains to glow at sunset in their uniquely pink way. That had they giving it to me? in turn resulted in their being called “watermelon”. Sandia. Pink.

“And Cody will be with you,” he continued, nodding at the Oscillating. As if in awareness that I was thinking about them, the coyote. crystals in my grotto walls started twinkling and blinking when I glanced again at the canine, wondering just what in the heck a torched, ever so gently, by the flickering flames of my burning coyote had to do with playing a flute, but his laughing, sparkling bones. eyes stopped any questions short, unasked.

They burned oddly, did the cholla bones. Green flames sprang What was the question? up. Or blue flames. Tendril-like, they darted about like the tongue “Follow him. Listen to him. At least at first. That is what I did of a serpent, here and there, tasting the air, and then gone, sucked when I was given this honor. He knows the old ways.” back into the mouth of orange-yellow flame. To reappear... then “When you were given the honor?...” I thought. “What the heck. disappear... randomly and endlessly.

I dozed, I think, with my eyes and senses open to the fiery show What? When?”

“It was LONG long ago,” he continued. “Before the cars came. and the sagely aroma. Vaguely I watched the sparkling crystals, Before...” and he looked skyward, rubbing his chin, as if he were the dancing flames, and the shadowy shapes from the glow of the trying to remember. “Before even the horses came. And the men in moon. A hazy smoke hung in the rocky chamber. It drifted into metal. The land was different then. I was young and I had built a strange forms that were backlit by the moon or the blue, green, fire that night, like yours. And he came to me, he and Cody, even as and orange tendrils of flame.

At one point, half dreaming and half asleep, I thought I saw what looked to be the face of a coyote watching me through the smoky vapors. Strangely, the vision of the animal within the confines of the little grotto didn’t disturb me. It was almost a natural evolution of the evening’s happenings. His two eyes glowed in the strange lighting, his head laying on his paws, watching me rather nonchalantly.

Tis a vision, I thought, but I knew it was not. He was there, watching me, over my fire of bones and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for it to be so. This was my wailing singing companion, I knew, and I looked at him with a seeming nonchalance that matched his own.

Cool.

“His name is Cody,” a male voice said softly from somewhere to the right amidst the flickering shadows of smoke.

It dawned on me slowly that someone was sitting there. Again, for reasons that I cannot begin to fathom, it didn’t disturb me much as I swung my gaze over to the cross-legged figure sitting comfortably by my fire as if he had been there for some time. Perhaps he had. Time seemed rather meaningless at that point.

It might have been the hazy smoke, or it might have been my hazy mind, but I wasn’t really able to make out much in the way of details about my newfound fireside companion. Nor did I really care to. What I thought at the time, and what I vaguely remember now, is that he seemed young, at least physically. Perhaps it was his posture, lithe and easy, or his crazy shocks of curly hair that shot out in random directions, almost like spikes, albeit curled spikes. Unruly and wild.

But his eyes, oh his eyes... his eyes were old. As I looked into his and he into mine, it seemed that I could see for a thousand miles. A thousand years.

There was wisdom within those eyes. Vast and timeless. And knowledge.

And it occurred to me that this was what I had asked from the sparkling walls of my granite grotto when I’d first arrived... for them to share a bit of their wisdom. Be careful what you wish for, I chided myself. A little bit late.

His eyes sparkled, too, like the walls. His eyes were laughing. From the firelight and from the moon, but also, I thought, from an amusement that seemed to come from deep within. I glanced over at the coyote, unmoved, with his head still on his paws, and I saw that his eyes sparkled in the same way. They laughed together, the two of them, at what might have been some humorous inside joke. I smiled with them, and I wondered if my eyes sparkled, too. I supposed they did.

“You called me,” he said eventually. Softly. “You called us and we came.”

We sat for a while in silence. I reconciled it in my mind that I had maybe actually called them, though I knew not what I was doing. At least consciously. But the fire and the sage and the grotto and the loud singing... a lot of things did all seem to add up to a shout-out.

“My time is up,” he said. “And yours has begun.”

Springtime 2014

Cody and I come to you now. And he gave me the flute, and he gave me a message...”

“The task is yours now. The joy. The honor. To bring forth abundance. To sow the seeds of life and of love. To sow them with happiness and hardiness and vigor. And always... always... with a song in the heart and a song on the wind.”

We looked at each other for a time. Then he stood, gracefully, and made his way to the little passageway that was the doorway out of our little grotto. Cody lifted his head and watched him, but otherwise moved not at all. I, too, sat unmoving. Stunned.

Stupefied even. How could this be happening to me?

“You can never go back,” he said, from the brink. “Not to where you were. You are now the sower of seeds. The player of the flute. I have been called Kokopelli, and perhaps that will become your calling, too. It is a proud name. Good planting, my friend.”

He reached down and scruffled the coyote’s head between the ears and whispered something to him. Then he was gone. I blinked and wondered at his disappearance and presently I heard a faint singing gently receding in the distance beyond my rocky walls. He was singing as he walked away. It was, I realized, The Battle Hymn of the Republic.

That is how it happened. That is how I became the sower of seeds. I awoke the next morning with a flute and a coyote. And an insatiable urge to go wandering. I never went back.

I wander still. Me and Cody. We plant seeds of all kinds. I have learned to play the flute, or perhaps more accurately, it has taught me to how to play. It has magic, this flute. It seduces the mind. It makes it so we are not perceived, not by mortal human eyes. And it renders time meaningless to us. We are springtime.

We are birth and rebirth. We are children of the moon and a song on the wind.

You may hear us, though, when you wander the Watermelons and you are considering the enormity of the world and the agelessness of this land and the mysteries that it holds. And you’ll wonder... is it music that you hear, or the whistling of the wind in the chollas? Be careful at those times, when your mind is filled with the mystery. Be careful what you ask, and who you ask it of. And most of all, be careful what you wish for.

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Duke City Fit

4 1 0 2 Albuquerque Trails The City of Albuquerque plans for, develops, and maintains many of Albuquerque’s trails. The Albuquerque metropolitan area has more than 130 miles of paved multi-use trails and hundreds of miles of unpaved trails that are used by bicyclists and other users. These trails are connected with the on-street bikeway system to provide a recreational and commuter network.

Look for them in green on the Trails Map. Albuquerque’s premiere trail, the Paseo del Bosque Trail, goes from the north to the south edges of the metro area through the Rio Grande’s cottonwood bosque, Sixteen miles of paved trails uninterrupted by roadways. It passes through Rio Grande Valley State Park, with opportunities to see birds, coyotes and other wildlife, but also takes trail users to the Nature Center, Bio Park, the zoo, and the National Hispanic Cultural Center.

You may encounter many different kinds of users on the trails. Expect to meet other bicyclists, walkers, people with wheelchairs, in-line skaters, possibly equestrians. Courtesy and caution are a part of having an enjoyable and safe trail ride.

S A F E T Y 6

Ride in a Straight Line

Beware of Car Doors

Obey Traffic Signs

Scan the road behind

Trails-Keep to Right

Avoid dodging between cars.

Watch for cars entering from driveways.

Be wary of parked cars.Be particularly careful if someone is in the car. Ride a car door width away.

As a vehicle, bikes must obey all the rules of the road.

Cyclists and motorists have the same privileges and duties.

Shoulder check regularly and use a mirror to monitor traffic.

Be prepared to manuever for safety.

All trail users must keep to right except when passing. Move off trail to right when stopping.

Ride in SIngle File

Dismount as Posted

Make Eye Contact

Turning Left - 2 Options

Trails-Signal to Others

Except when overtaking or passing.

Walk across posted locations.

Confirm that you are seen.

Establish eye contact to insure they know you are there.

1-As vehicle, signal & move to left turn lane, turn when safe 2-As Pedestrian, Ride to far crosswalk & walk across.

Sound your bell or call out “on your left“ then pass on left.

Careful at Intersections

Control Your Pet

Earphone Dangers

Use Lights at Night

Be Visible

The majority of accidents occur at intersections.

Vehicles making left turns are particularly dangerous.

Albuquerque requires pets to be leashed and owners to clean up after them.

Keep volume sufficiently low to be able to hear other trail users.

Use a strong white headlight and red taillight at night.

See and be seen.

Reflective clothing and lights.

Keep to right where you are expected to be.

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The Albuquerque Bike Trails Map City of Albuquerque Citizen Contact Center Municipal Development Dept Street Repair & Sweeping Parks & Recreation Bike Safety Programs Open Space Trail Maintenance Bike NOW Program &

Bike and Ride Construction & Detours

311 768-2680 857-8025 857-8650 768-2453 452-5200 243-RIDE

GABAC- Greater ABQ Bicycle Advisory Committee

768-2680

GARTC- Greater ABQ Recreational Trails Committee

768-5325

924-3690

Later, when you are ready for this map You may order more copies of the Albuquerque Bike Trails Map by calling 768-2680

More info: 243-RIDE or www.cabq.gov/transit

Springtime 2014

PULL OUT ENTIRE PAGE Your own Official ABQ Bike Trails map

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Multi-use Trail: A paved trail close to auto traffic Bicycle Lane: A portion of street with designated lane for bikes One-way Bike Lane: Similar to bike lane but one way

Springtime 2014

Bicycle Route: Cars and bikes share the road Bicycle Boulevard: Shared roadway optimized for bike traffic Mountain Bike Trail: Unpaved but maintained trail Roads with Wide Shoulders Arroyos

Bicycle/Pedestrian Overpass Mountain Bike Trailhead Place of Interest High School Bosque Trail Parking Lots Rapid Ride Stop Bicycle Shop Rail Runner Express Station

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La Luz Trail to La Cueva Overlook Try It, You’ll Like It

Isabel Bearman-Bucher

“Solvitur Ambulando” - Latin It is all solved by walking.

Some wise persons...

including a few rare politicians, if this writer may wax hopeful, say “there’s a compromise in everything. And so there is, on the La Luz Trail, which has the reputation of being a very hard go. Over the last five decades of tramping Albuquerque’s mountain trails, I’ve read about the rescues, the lost overnighters; listened to tales of the air lifts, and have written accounts of the ill-fated TWA plane crash in the 50’s. My best story is about a gal who had to drag another out by placing her arms around her neck. Poor footwear caused her friend’s massive weeping, bloody blisters. Of course, there’s always the kids who drink all their water in the first hour, and get dehydrated, or the dogs that wander off never to be seen again. I’ve found a few canine skulls - poor things.

So, in keeping with compromise, this writer is suggesting a wonderful six miler for Albuquerque springtime - La Cueva, “The Cave” Overlook, - the first part of La Luz. It’s a beautiful six mile round trip with some of the best 360 views of any Sandia Mountain trail.

We, as city residents, often take the Sandias for granted, but they’re one of the few ranges in the US where a person can ski the back, and walk or bike the front on the same day.

Some days, when we’re favored with rain or snow, it’s a beautiful thing to see clouds pour over the front, when a low pressure causes the dynamic spill like Niagara Falls. I’ve been in the middle of this dynamic a few times, calling “hello earth people,” to my hiking buds, searching to find their silhouettes in the midst of a total white out.

The 10, 678 foot Sandias are 17 miles from north to south, and maybe eight miles from east to west. Their rock story is amazing and hard to believe. Geologists have found granite on the Crest that is a half billion years old. That’s hard to imagine, but picture if you can our area covered by many oceans and inland seas over a period of 250 million years. It gets more remarkable. Believe it or not, the Sandias are considered a barrier reef, and barrier reefs run parallel to the ocean shore. It’s hard to think of us being like Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, or the ones in the Caribbean, decorated by coral and tropical fish.

The Sandias humped up, looked like a turtle, and connected themselves to the Manzanos, separated only by a huge rift called Tijeras Canyon. The Ancient Tewa Pueblos named the mountain

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“Posu Gar hoo-oo” which translates to “water slides down arroyos.” Thumbs-up for that name , considering we didn’t start building city arroyo channels seriously until the early 60’s. This writer remembers driving an old ’55 green Ford south on San Mateo, when a massive sudden spill came near to washing her over the edge.

The Sandias were home to first humans. Evidence of that presence, a mere blink of the eye after the geology saga, is one of the earliest in North America. Some 12,000 years back, the Sandia Man Cave housed ancients, who left mastodon remains, stone arrows, basket scraps and moccasins woven from yucca. A stone curtain, that afforded a barrier to keep out weather and strangers, probably persuaded the prehistoric travelers to stop for a spell, or to take up residence. As time moved on, many ancients felt the magic of the mountain that turned red at sunset. The Navajos called her “Spinning Mountain”. The Rio Grande Pueblo peoples called her “Turtle Mountain,” and were told by their Spider Grandmother spirit to settle down. They did.

In the late 1800’s, hopeful La Cueva miners dragged mules and get rich dreams up the “Lady of the Light” trail forged for hundreds of years by mountain animals and later Indians. Turquoise was hauled out, some silver, maybe a bit of copper. In the early 1930’s, by the time the CCC built the trail we know today, the name was shortened to “La Luz”.

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So from geology to ancient human history, today, we put foot to “Lady of the Light” track.

Trail Thoughts It’s the last of Tramway Blvd going west, past the Christmas lighted stop sign at the Tram turnoff. Past that, look for Forest Road 333 to the right. Coming up Tramway from the Interstate, it’s left just before the big curve.

“Don’t speed,´ I whisper to myself, knowing Tramway changes to Indian owned land, where the speed limit lowers. “Ticket. Ticket. Repeat - ticket.” I caution myself, remembering the latest story from a pal who got one.

It’s a right onto 333 E and on up through stone pillars, following signs to La Luz, until the road ends. Hikers get out of cars, put hands on hips, breathe, and are quiet with the mountain ahead. I’m thinking of Wordsworth, and his poetry on foot prose, as I give my old boots my thanks they fit, they’re dependable, they feel great, like life. My life.

Comes the usual stuff, car key, shoulder pack and water check . Walking sticks appear, and then, we move onto the trail. Morning chatter mixes with bird call. The trek begins up a series of steps, through a huge boulder, onto a vista peppered with Cholla Cacti. I’m looking at the adjustment to life this mountain teaches. It’s done what it can with what it’s got, modified its settings. We humans modify, but not like nature. I think about the water depletion worries for our huge city.

The trail switches back and forth like a dragon’s tail, exposed roots need careful watching, lest the hiker’s adventure ends in a twisted ankle or a bloodied knee. The track narrows now, makes a tight brown ribbon round the old turtle mountain. Views of the city spread like a giant opening hand. “Here,” it whispers. “Just look at me.” The sun blazes. It’s that cornflower blue sky as Sandia Crest stands into it, full above. The group wanders into a stream- lush oasis.

“They take the wrong trail here - see - it goes up the stream into Chimney Canyon,” ascending back all the way down to this point. We gotta cross the stream then go up south on the wide track. See it?”

Springtime 2014

We do, and mark the place mentally. I’m thinking of my stories of lost hikers and blisters, which I share. There’s other tales that come after mine. Always raises the hair on the neck - the “getting lost” talk. Any hiker knows it’s always a possibility.

We’re going ever up, curving east, ascending into the Ponderosa pine zone. Sweet smells waft, reminding one of the holidays, reminding one of new birth, of new chances, or renewal. Spring on Sandia Mountain. Subtle. Enduring.

Never ending. I’m chewing over the usual complete inability to understand the billion years this mountain owns as its age - how it pushed up a billion year-old granite floor to its summit. What it’s seen - floods, drought, wild winds, holocaust blizzards, oceans, desert. I imagine an ocean lapping at its west-facing side, where Albuquerque now sprawls. Imagine, a barrier reef? Coral and fish and all that stuff.

There’s a comfort in the abiding everness of nature.

Someone says that we’re now over 8,000 feet. La Cueva Canyon opens to the south with that great view of the thumb. I’m stunned by the green, the peaked hills, the valleys, yet another dress which our mountain wears because “it can.”

Why in all the years of living here, have I missed this - this immensity and this beauty? We turn south, trek to the right up a couple of hundred feet to the La Cueva Overlook, and turn 360 to look at the splendid view. It opens like a flower to the beautiful day. Smiles widen in complete shared understanding.

We dump packs, find rocks against which we sit, open lunches; all are at peace with the world. I think of the philosophy I’ve studied at UNM, eons back, going over “if a tree falls in the forest, and you’re not there ... did the tree make any noise?”, adding “if all are at peace in this beautiful place, is peace therefore throughout the world?”

No tree falls in the forest anymore with all the news yada-yada zipping round the globe 24/7. And peace? When one finds it, it is a personal peace, therefore …

Peace on earth. My own personal earth.

I am brought back to earth by the voices that are now singing...“Happy Birthday to you”.

Two of us are having celebrations on this day, and their friends start the song. We clap, and join in. What a present to give the self, I think - a mountain. We pose for pictures, share life, try somebody’s offered cheese, or piece of cookie, half an energy bar. Drink plenty. Then, there’s that moment when we get quiet with the day, enjoying the last of the lunch, solitary with our own thoughts, knowing it’s time to go. We raise, make the break with the wilderness.

Always a tug for this heart.

With plenty of time still ahead, everybody is dragging out the mental to-do list. Cells jingle. We all begin the downward trek. An hour so later, in the parking lot, we wave, find keys, dump stuff in car boots, knowing we’ll meet again on some great trail. All pause, turn and take one last look at the mountain.

Me? I’m grateful for the chance to think deeply about life, with no tech, nobody’s needs, no to-do lists. Solvitur Ambulando? Indeed. It is one heck-of-a true saying.

LA CUEVA TRAIL: 5.6 Miles roundtrip MODERATE HIKE - Dogs on leash, Kids okay GETTING THERE • Tramway Blvd north to Forest Road 333 • Northeast through the stone pillars to the end of the road • LA LUZ TRAILHEAD • Up the stairs onto the trail up.

CAUTIONS • At the forested part, where the stream flows through the canyon, turn right, go south across the stream. Do not go up the canyon.

• Good footgear • Extra water • Prepare for spring showers with rain ponchos and extra layers.

11

Duke City Fit

Duke City Fit

News Ken Orth & Karl Thomas

We’re going to talk about broken bones.

Why? Well, for one thing... when was the last time you read a story about broken bones?

It’s not really on your radar, now is it? It is not an issue that is out there front and center, that’s for sure.

Which kind of brings us to the real issue, which is exactly that… broken bones are just not talked about much. Even by your doctor and even if you happen to be on the receiving end of treatment for such a catastrophe. Or someone close to you is.

What little you’ll hear is about resting it, stabilizing it physically, and letting it heal up. Pain killers, maybe. That’s about it.

But what, one might ask, about my diet? Are there foods and/or supplements that might help my bone regenerate quicker? Stronger? Healthier?

Someone, somewhere, will mention calcium. Maybe. We all know bones are made of calcium. Perhaps we should throw some extra calcium at it? Drink more milk. Yeah, that’s the ticket.

Anything else?

Nope, I didn’t think so. And neither did my long-time health guru, Karl Thomas, when we got together for our semi-regular meet-up to discuss some obscure health topic of his choosing.

“Broken bones,” he told me, and I didn’t even bat an eye. I just dragged out my yellow legal pad, the pen I’d just snatched from my dentist’s office (he has good quality pens!), and I started scribbling notes as fast as I could.

The physiology of broken bones is among the most misunderstood of the common maladies that can happen to us. Chances are pretty good that you… you… have broken a bone. Or you are going to. Or you know someone close to you who has. Possibly an elderly someone. And if it IS an elderly someone, that ain’t good. The older you are, the more dangerous a broken bone can be.

Let’s face it, broken bones happen. Most of us, this writer included, have very little knowledge of what we can and probably should be doing, nutritionally, to help the break heal more quickly and effectively. Is there anything?

Rhetorical question, huh?

First off, let’s address this calcium thing. The extra calcium strategy.

Bones contain calcium, tis true. And if your system has been running short on calcium, as many of ours have been, especially as we get older and more especially if you happen to be female, then you could probably use a calcium boost.

But bones, my friend, are not made of calcium alone. There are a whole host of minerals and nutrients that are needed and used to build (and rebuild) bones.

Just throwing calcium at a broken bone might be likened to throwing a board at some broken shelving. While it is true that you might need that board’s material in one form or another, if you don’t have the tools to cut and shape and finish that board, it just isn’t going to do much good in terms of fixing that shelf. That board is just going to sit around waiting for the resources needed to make use of it. In fact, if your body is like my house (and let’s hope it isn’t), since that board is just laying around anyway, the chances are good that it’ll get grabbed up and used in some other project somewhere else. Somewhere, maybe, where those missing tools or resources just aren’t needed.

Your body works in a similar fashion. Sometimes that calcium is in the wrong form (it’s a 2 x 4 when what you needed was a 1 x 8), or your body simply doesn’t have the resources it needs to make it work. So, that calcium, that board, gets used somewhere else. Not in the break.

So let’s hold off on the calcium idea for a minute (we’ll get back to it), and talk about what is actually happening in there, in your body, when you break a bone and your system needs to fix it. That process is actually called “bone modeling”. It is very much like a process that is going on in your body all the time, around the clock. That process is called “bone remodeling”. And that is what it is. It is systematically taking your bones apart and putting them back together.

Simplified so that I could understand it, it works like this. There are little buggers in your system whose job is to take your bones apart. They are called “osteoclasts”.

They are triggered, systematically, to crawl around on your bones and convert the bone material back into its elemental parts (including calcium) and to dump those parts into your system where they can be picked up and used wherever that system deems prudent.

Oftentimes that “prudent” use is to turn right around and rebuild those bones it just took apart. Believe it or not, there are other little buggers in your system whose job is to rebuild bones. “Osteoblasts”, these are. They may well be found coming along right

12

behind the taker-aparters, rebuilding the bone better than new. They’re doing it right now, in you and in me.

What the heck?, you might be asking, as I did. Why would they be taking them apart and then building ‘em back up again?

Strangely enough, there are a few good reasons. Ingenious reasons, even.

One is that it ensures that your bones are always new and updated and the best shape that your body can make them. All your bones are basically replaced every two years or so. It’s like having a carpenter in your house constantly replacing every beam and strut that holds it up. Completely replaced every two years.

But, and it’s a big but, that is not the whole story. It turns out that your body has decided to use your bones for more than one purpose. One, the obvious one, is to hold the whole thing up. But there is another, and that is as a repository, a storage place. Your bones are a convenient place to store the minerals and elements that it just might need for some of its functions.

It might use the materials to rebuild bones. But it might have a demand that it deems more important than bones. Or that bone. Like, for example, your system is getting way too acidic. Drinking too much soda maybe, and the body needs alkaline components to counteract the acid. The system, without your knowledge or consent, simply uses the minerals it has available (like calcium) to neutralize the acid before it can gum up the works. Good job. Good use of resources.

But the bad part is that those little buggers who were supposed to come along behind on the bone rebuilding it… well, they suddenly don’t have the stuff they need to do the rebuilding and that work slows down or is postponed.

Indefinitely? Hopefully not. At the very least, other bones will be coming apart and their resources thrown up for grabs. If there is a lull on the soda intake, perhaps those resources can be used to build up the bones in the most need. But that is rather like stealing from Peter to pay Paul.

Interestingly enough, that redistribution of bone wealth sometimes happens on purpose. Sensors in the bones themselves can detect when a bone is not being stressed or pushed very much and the system makes the decision that the bone can do with less density. It doesn’t seem to need it, after all. So it removes some of the bone mass and uses the material somewhere else. It doesn’t rebuild it.

This is why our astronauts lose bone density, sometimes dangerously, when they are in zero gravity for extended periods. Similarly, someone who is bedridden or immobile may lose bone density no matter how much calcium they consume. The system says the bone doesn’t need it.

Now, with this background, it may be easier to envision what happens when a broken bone occurs. The bone-builders, the osteoblasts, are already there, after all, and ready to get on it. But there is a little prep work that has to happen first…

When a break occurs, one of the body’s early responses is to try and form a blood clot within the newly opened gap. In minor fractures, this is a pretty straightforward task. In bigger breaks, the bone may require outside intervention to put it back into a reasonable facsimile of what it was supposed to look like.

Meanwhile, an alert has been sent out to the system that resources are needed at the site of the trauma. High priority. Inflammation occurs as all these resources arrive and start working on their assigned tasks… be it fighting infection, carrying out wastes, or taking apart damaged bone tissue that needs to be rebuilt. The inflammation is a necessary early part of the body’s response. For this reason, anti-inflammatory drugs are NOT the best idea at this point. These include ibuprofen and aspirin. These are counterproductive to your body’s response and may hinder the healing process. Pain-killers WITHOUT anti-inflammatories, like Tylenol, are more judicious. Or the more narcotic pain killers a doctor may prescribe.

After the blood clot, the system builds a support structure, like cartilage, over the whole thing to act as a bridge. Also new blood vessels are being built to replace those lost or damaged within the break. Finally, the osteoblasts kick into gear and start forming new bone within the structures already laid out. This is what they do and they are good at it.

If, that is, they have the resources to do their job. And if all of the functions that were supposed to occur prior to theirs, did occur, adequately and as scheduled. Of course, all of those steps had to have had their own resources available, too.

So, as you can see, if you are going to discuss the resources needed to fix a broken bone, there is a whole lot more involved than throwing some calcium at it. What we really need to do is to ensure that all of the processes involved have what they need, nutritionally, to accomplish their tasks.

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SW Corner of 4th & Alameda Enter on 4th, Across from the Church

One thing, often overlooked, is that energy demands all go up. It may not seem like this is true, especially if mobility is impaired, but your body is going to burn a lot more fuel doing all of these extra tasks. Really. It needs more protein. And in this case, vegetable protein is preferable to animal protein. This is because the process of digesting animal proteins produces acidic waste which in turn will leech some of the alkaline resources, like calcium, when your body is needing those resources.

Good vegetable proteins are found in avocados and nuts. There is a chart somewhere around this story that contains a list of good alternatives. So cut out the steaks and sodas for a few weeks and fire up the guacamole.

Also, it has been found that smoking seriously impedes bone healing. It has to do with the blood flow. If the person smokes, now might be the time to give it up. So that bone can heal properly. And that is something about quitting smoking that will help right now, not ten years from now.

Nutritionally, there are a host of minerals, nutrients, and proteins that your body will be using.

Calcium, of course, is a big one. The best way to get the calcium your body can use is through the food you eat. The vegetable food you eat. This is because the calcium in plants is of the right form and is more readily usable by your body. There is another chart somewhere nearby with foods that are high in calcium. If you eat the ones high in calcium and the ones high in protein you are doing your body proud.

If you are not going to get enough calcium through your foods, then supplements may be in order. But not just any supplements.

The cheapest form of calcium, and the most common supplemental form, is calcium carbonate. This is NOT what you want. This is basically chalk. Your body has a terrible time trying to use this. In terms of that broken shelf in our house, this is like cutting down a tree in the backyard and throwing that at it. It just ain’t right. So take a look at the label and if it says calcium carbonate, put it back down.

The better calcium supplements come in other forms. Karl, in years past, used to recommend calcium citrate, because percentagewise you can use more of the calcium. Now, the next step up is calcium orotate. Again, more of it can be used because it is more like the vegetable form.

But the best is probably plant-based calcium. Many of these are derived from algae. The added benefit of these is that they usually include the other minerals and nutrients your body needs to assimilate the calcium.

Springtime 2014

Which brings us to the other point. The other nutrients your body needs for bone rebuilding.

An important one is magnesium. It is absolutely necessary in conjunction with calcium. Period. If you are supplementing your calcium, you need about half as much again in magnesium. Look at the label. Magnesium there with the calcium? Good.

And lastly, there is a little known mineral that is important in bone-building. Silica. Which is basically the name for silicon that has been uploaded by a plant. It is dirt that has been worked on.

Turns out that it is integral in bone-building and if you are not getting enough plant material, you are probably not getting enough silica.

So, there is a supplement. Vegetal silica. Perhaps while your bone is rebuilding a little extra vegetal silica would be in order.

Particularly if you are not eating a lot of broccoli, avocados, and swiss chard.

That’s it then. Broken Bones 101 by Karl and Ken. When you think about broken bones, think about nutrition. Especially if that broken bone is in an older person. A broken hip is not at all uncommon, and it can be the beginning of a serious downward spiral.

Also, the fact is that bone breaks and loss of bone density are much more common among females. Particularly post-menopausal females. Particularly those who have had children. This last bit is due much to the “stealing from Peter to pay Paul” aspect of bone remodeling. The fetus within pregnant women has huge demands for bone modeling, and you can just take a guess as to where it is going to get those resources. Mom’s bones. Those darn osteoclasts at work. As a result mom may have suffered loss of bone density that she was never able to make up.

The point about low bone density, particularly in women, but in men too, is that it may be able to be recouped. Or, at least, you may be able to stop the loss. The key is the proper form of calcium, paired with magnesium. And with adequate vegetal silica.

But don’t eat chalk. You don’t want to cut down the tree in the backyard just to repair that broken shelf.

Plant Based Calcium Vegetables:

Collard Greens Kale Butternut Squash Sweet potato Broccoli Brussel Sprouts

Legumes:

White beans Navy beans Great northern beans Chick peas

Others:

Rice Milk Dried figs Naval oranges

Plant Based Protein Vegetables:

Avocado Broccoli Peas Spinach Sweet potato

Legumes:

Lentils Refried beans Pinto, Kidney beans Peanuts Sesame seeds Pistachios Nut butters

Editor’s note - Yes, that is a broken bone in the xray above the story, It is a broken right clavicle (collarbone) in a teenage male. My son. It happened shortly after I wrote this story, believe it or not. In his case, it was reset and and held in place with a titanium plate and screws. There will be a followup story about this, probably in the summer issue.

One thing I will add is that I have discovered that my Herbologist guru, Dr James, has an herbal formula “Tissue Mend” that he swears will help bones heal in half to a third less time. I don’t doubt it. We are giving it a try.

The full line of Dr. James’ formulas, including Tissue Mend, are available for purchase at his new Training Facility located at: 4545 McLeod Rd NE, Ste E • Albuquerque, NM 87109 • 888-388-4413

13

Duke City Fit

It’s Just a Tent And It’s Just Camping Ken Orth It was a dozen years ago or more…

We were in the boonies of Utah, my family and I. We had managed to find, once again, the old campground that a friend and I had discovered by accident way back in the 70’s. Back then we were young hippy wanna-be’s traveling America in a little old British sports car, an MG-B, trying to find ourselves and maybe nirvana, and discovering perhaps a little of both in an isolated campground in the Ashley National Forest of southeast Utah.

It imprinted itself on my brain, did that campground… unlike many aspects of that soul-searching journey across America.

Over the many decades since we first found it I have returned to it periodically, like a pilgrimage, to renew my spirit and to assure myself that it was actually still there in all of its primitive, pristine glory.

Each time I returned, there was a singular stretch of the road, the last few miles, that would fire up that “homesick” kind of feeling deep in my gut. It was… is… a beat-up, washboard gravel road that must be traversed to get to the campground. It is passable by a passenger car, even a low-slung MG-B, but it presents challenges to RVs that most are not willing to take.

Thankfully. I returned by myself a couple of times. I returned with girlfriends. I returned with my wife. And eventually, I returned with my family.

Every time, it was with no small amount of trepidation. I would bounce around that final, rugged curve, up on a ridge from which one could look down upon the campground if one knew where to look. I would look down there, fearfully, hopefully, worried that it might not be there any longer. Washed away by floods… closed… burned… or perhaps worst of all, “improved” with paved roads and electrical outlets and monstrous RVs lined up like little houses in the suburbs.

Shudder.

But it was always just there, empty and old and barely noticeable. It was an easy one to miss, with its aged wooden sign and its narrow, little, rutted entry road. The picnic tables looked to be among the first picnic tables ever created by the forest service. They were old even when we first found this place and they stand there still, apparently made of indestructible 4x4s… weathered, but solid. Kissed by the Gods, perhaps... they have been given immortality in this secret, hidden canyon. Even the initials carved in the ancient wood of the tables have weathered into illegible mish-mash. The tables live on, while the people who carved here… who knows?

The fire rings, too, are ancient. Smelted in the iron works of someplace far away, like Ogden or Pittsburg. They are remnants of a factory that is long gone now. The fire rings in this campground and some manhole covers in Provo are all that remain. A date and a place of origin are embossed on each of their surfaces. Surfaces that are oxidizing with time, making thos embossed dates as illegible now as the initials on the tables, faded into history.

There are two creeks that merge in this campground. One comes tumbling down out of the mountains, fast and furious, while the other meanders a bit more placidly along the canyon floor where the campground itself resides. The prime campsite is on the triangular, peninsula-like piece of ground where the two creeks meet. It has gurgling, babbling water on two sides. Almost three. It sings constantly, in surround sound. It is the voice of Gaia, I think, singing… Don’t ever forget who carved this canyon.

I don’t forget. There are many massive trees standing hereabouts, but there are also massive logs and trees that have been ripped down, ripped out, and tossed about the creek like so many matchsticks. Or toothpicks, maybe. They are a constant reminder that there have been forces at work here that are far beyond the powers of mortal men.

Or boys.

My two boys are here this time. Finally. And my wife, though she has been here before… back when we were young and infatuated and the gurgling creeks sang a lullaby of love.

Their song is a bit different now. There is an undercurrent of danger in their slippery rocks and misted tree trunks where the boys inevitably find themselves. The four-year-old is fearless in his wet tennis shoes. “River shoes” are what we call them, a mark of pride, and they are meant to get wet. He follows his older brother boldly across the rocks and trees like he was born to do it. Perhaps he was.

Their mother follows along behind them, her shoes wet, too… sometimes on the self-same rocks and trees where the boys have skittered and slid. Sometimes, though, she is on the bank, her gaze diverted occasionally to the wild roses or daisies or elegant, orchid-like columbines, their graceful flowers looking ever so regal in this primitive place. But always, ever, a watchful eye on the boys.

For my part, though I would dearly love to be playing in the creek with them, I get to work setting up the tent with a leery eye to the west. There are storm clouds over there... growing, brooding, dark and ominous. They are coming, there is no doubt. How soon they will get here?, that is the question. And how fierce will they be? Many years of camping have led me to know that it is best to have the tent up aforehand. More than once I have had to do it during a storm of some kind, and though that can be a tittilatingly sensorial experience in itself, it is not really one for the young and inexperienced. Or old and tired, for that matter.

And adding to the energy of the situation is the fact that the tent I am erecting is a brand new one. On its maiden voyage, so to speak. It is a tent with a sacred trust to fulfill... to shelter some innocent young boys through the night, and a watchful mother, and a thunderstorm is rolling in from the west.

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www.dukecityfit.com

Duke City Fit Nervous? Am I nervous? More than a bit, to be sure. We did erect the tent once before, in our backyard. We checked it out and hosed it down and deemed it worthy of our camping fidelity. But that was then and this is now and a hose in the backyard is not the same thing as a thunderstorm in an isolated campground out in the boonies of Utah, now is it?

It is not that I mistrust the tent. I had done my homework and had purchased it because it seemed to have the features and qualities that we wanted. Needed. I have been through a good many tents over my long, long history of camping... from the heavy, canvas, surplus Army pup tents we started with in the Boy Scouts, nigh unto five decades ago... to the sleek, light space-age backpacking tent my wife and I used in the Sierra Nevada at 12,000 feet. And a host of tents in between, good, bad, and inadequate.

There was the bright orange tent, a cheap K-mart blue-light special that was the very first tent I ever bought. It went with me through thick and thin for years until it collapsed under the weight of a freak September snowstorm in Canada. Now that is an unusual feeling... to awaken with the fullness of 2 feet of wet snow piled on top of you. A lesson learned.

There was also the first “family” tent I bought. With fiberglass poles. It turns out that fiberglass poles can not only bend when the wind gets intense, but they can break. Snap. And the jagged ends of the poles can rip nasty holes in the flapping, blowing tent fabric. And, of course, this happens when you’d least like it to.

Another lesson. In fact, that one led me to one of my major tent commandments... thou shalt not use fiberglass poles. Our little, sleek backpacking tent had poles of “aircraft aluminum” and it carried my wife and I safely through a major storm, with hail and everything, and I never looked back.

This new tent, then, does not have fiberglass poles. It has aluminum poles. While they are probably not of aircraft stature, they are solid. They may well bend, but I am quite certain that they will not break. As the wind begins to pick up through this wondrous canyon, and clouds loom ever larger and darker, I’m thinking I made a wise decision. I’m hoping. I had hitched my wagon to this aluminum pole concept and it looks like we are about to get some on-the-job quality assurance testing.

The storm came that night in a roaring, crashing fury that excited the world. It also excited our boys. We were smack dab in the middle of that fury with naught but a couple layers of thin nylon fabric between us and it. Never had the boys been so close to, been so much a part of, a storm’s reality. It was rocking’ and rollin’ out there. But none of them were scared, not the boys nor my wife. They were infused with the same energy that excited the world around us. With each blasting crack of thunder, the boys would screech along with it, their eyes wide with excitement and wonder and a touch of fear, like they were riding the wildest, wooliest roller-coaster they could imagine.

But they weren’t afraid, not really. Certainly not of the tent collapsing. That thought never crossed their young innocent minds. They were camping with dad. He set up tents and started fires and they trusted him implicitly. They had no worries.

The same, however, could not be said for dad. I was a tad nervous, though I showed it not. I screeched and laughed and ooohed and ahhhed along with them, all the while quietly working myself and a couple of the heavier clothes bags over to the windward side of the tent. My thought was to try and hold it down and hold it up and hopefully keep it from doing anything crazy in the howling wind. It could bend, as it appeared it might, but it could not break. Not on my watch.

Eventually the storm abated. We all wound back down as our excitement abated, too. To the gentle patter of receding rain, we snuggled into our warm, dry sleeping bags and soon I could hear the quiet rhythm of their breathing. The moon emerged and cast a backlight glow upon the walls of the tent. A few random drops of water splatted the tent now and again, blown off the trees. The world, it seemed, to my half-conscious mind, was as clean and right and good as it had ever been.

I don’t know that I have ever slept so peacefully as I did that night.

The next day, I surveyed what the storm had wrought. The tent poles had, indeed, bent.

Strangely enough, in the weeks that followed, that led me to a startling discovery. I had no idea that there were tools whose purpose was to bend and shape aluminum poles. At Harbor Freight.

Who knew? I bent them back to a reasonable facsimile of their original shapes and we still use that tent, 12 years later, weirdly shaped poles and all. How could we not?

I learned a few other things from that camping trip in Utah so long ago. Or perhaps, I relearned them.

I learned that there is no substitute for camping. There is nothing like it. To spend a night in the wild, or semi-wild, is to cozy up to Mother Nature. It allows her to speak in her own voice one her own terms in her own house. Sometimes she sings a quiet song, a lullaby, and you have to strain to hear it. Or maybe, NOT hear it, but let it seep into you unconsciously, like osmosis or sunshine.

Moonshine.

At other times, she rants and raves and screams. She dances madly with storm clouds... or butterfly clouds... or clouds of misty vapor around a tumbling, secret waterfall.

It changes, ever, always, does the camping world. Yet it remains constant in its change. It restores my soul to lay down in a green meadow, my eyes and my heart to the sky. It takes me back to my roots, both literally and figuratively. I can get no closer, it seems, to having a dialogue with the wild world of which I am a part. A little part.

And it surprises me constantly. It delights me. It tittilates my senses. It teaches me self-reliance and camaraderie at the same time. I am not here to conquer or to master nature, but to conquer my own fears. My own prejudices. To coexist, to be a part of a wondrous whole. To learn to sing with her, to dance with her... in the firelight, the moonlight, the auburn shades of dawn.

We are gifted here in the heart of the southwest with a near-endless number and variety of places in which to cozy up with the natural world for a night or two... from the deserts to the mountains, the mesas and the badlands... the Rockies to the north are every bit as much of our heritage here as the Gila to the south. And the caverns and the Guadalupes. As are the canyon lands to the west. They all call to us, each singing their own unique little bit of a vast, harmonied song.

Yet another thing I relearned from that Utah trip with the bending poles is to be prepared. It was the Boy Scout motto, back in the day, to “Be Prepared”, and it was drummed into me as I have drummed it into my boys. Mother Nature can be a kindly lady with cookies and milk and wondrous visions, or she can be cold and angry with hammering intensity... and visions, perhaps, more wondrous yet.

Do not take her lightly, nor unprepared, especially if the wildness of the “boonies” is your goal.

As they should be. Go there with an open heart, seeking senses, and smartly equipped. She is not real keen, is Mother Nature, on people getting up and scurrying out in the middle of a show.

Springtime 2014

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15

Downtown, 1/2 inch below horizon

Candelaria Road

Lowes at Candelaria & Juan Tabo (long white bldg)

Mt Taylor on horizon

Joh Middl

Sometimes there is no reason For pictures, places, poetry Sometimes they simply are, they’re simply there Like sandhill cranes... with no better place to be Than Algodones on a Sunday afternoon Why not? Indeed Why not wIldflowers with their own inclinations Toward geometry... and symmetry ... balanced Against the cold fluid child of the Rockies Destiny’s child, bound for the Gulf Wayward and willful it splits a city The Duke’s city Where Candelaria draws a crooked line From Sandia’s saddle of sage, aimed vaguely At cold and distant Taylor, capped in snow Sometimes There is no reason

hn Baker Elem & Hoover le (long gray group bldgs)

Eldorado High at Juan Tabo & Montgomery (gray group bldgs)

Dr Jason Karp, PhD

Duke City Fit

Secrets of Running Injury Prevention When I was in high school, my electronics teacher had a silly saying to remind his students of how to handle electrical wires: “One hand in pockey, no get shockey.” Like touching wires with both hands, there’s a wrong way to do almost everything. For example, listening to cassette tapes on your Walkman, wearing leg warmers on the treadmill, and waiting until the last minute to buy your twin brother a birthday present, claiming you forgot his birthday, would all be considered by most as errors in judgment.

(Okay, so I don’t always make the best decisions.) Although training the wrong way may not have as severe a consequence as electrocuting yourself, it can cause you to get injured, which is pretty severe if you love to run.

I’m proud to say that in all my years of running, I’ve never had a running-related injury. However, for the majority of runners, the statistics tell a different story: The longer you’re a runner, the more likely you are to get injured. At least half of all runners deal with at least one injury per year, and 25 percent of runners are injured at any given time. Although you’re less likely to become one of those injured runners if you follow my advice, sometimes you can get injured without any apparent reason and no matter how careful you are.

There’s really no good reason why so many runners should get injured. Yet it happens all the time, mostly because so many runners don’t train intelligently, or they follow programs that are faulty in design. The main reason why injuries happen is because the physical stress from running is too much for your body to handle at that time. The human body is great at adapting to stress, but only when you apply that stress in small doses. When you apply the stress too quickly for your body to adapt, something breaks down. This is especially true with running because running is the most stressful sport on the skeleton. Every time your foot lands on the ground, your leg absorbs two to three times your body weight. Multiply that by the number of steps you take to run five miles, and multiply that by how many times you run each week, and you can see how much stress your legs have to deal with to be a runner.

The causes of running injuries can be divided into intrinsic factors (which are personal) and extrinsic factors (which are related to your training and environment).

Intrinsic factors are characteristics specific to you and include: Age: Older runners are more susceptible to injuries because they take longer to recover from workouts and adapt to the training.

Sex: Female runners often have a greater risk of injury than male runners. Certain conditions, like irregular menstrual cycles and menopause, cause a drop in or an absence of estrogen, which protects women’s bones. Females’ bones are less dense than males’ bones to begin with, so their bones are more susceptible to injury.

Bone density: Low bone density increases the risk of stress fractures. As a runner, dense bones help you withstand the stress of pounding the pavement week after week.

Previous injury: If you’ve had an injury in the past, you’re at an increased risk for another one. Already having an injury shows that that body part is vulnerable.

Lack of running experience: If you’re a new runner, you have a greater risk for injuries because you’re not yet used to the stress of running.

Foot type: Flat feet that pronate excessively when you run can cause injuries because overpronation is a big cause of many running-related injuries.

Extrinsic factors are characteristics of your training and environment and include: Mileage: How many miles you run per week is the greatest predictor of injury risk. It’s hard to say exactly how many miles per week increases the risk of injury because that’s an individual matter. You may be able to handle 50 miles per week, and your running partner may get injured with 30. Some runners (called Olympians) can run more than 100 miles per week and not get injured! On average, the risk of getting injured is two to three times greater when running at least 40 miles per week.

Intensity: Running at a faster pace, like you do during interval workouts, places a greater stress on your legs.

Shoes: Running shoes have specific combinations of support and stability designed for different running gaits. Running in the wrong shoes can adversely affect lower extremity alignment, making you more susceptible to injury. A cushioning shoe isn’t a good choice for an overpronator, who needs a shoe that offers more stability. Anytime you get a running-related injury, that’s a good sign to change your shoes, usually to a different type. Although shoes play a role in injury prevention because they influence the dispersion of forces and control the position of your feet when they land on the ground, they’re not usually the real reason why you get injured (unless you’re running in the wrong type of shoes).

For all running-related injuries, focus your treatment on the underlying cause rather than on the symptoms. If you focus on the symptoms, you may feel better, but you won’t eliminate the reason why the injury happened in the first place.

Secret #1: Train smart.

To train smart, learn how to optimize your training and train at more effective levels of effort to get the best results. The goal of training is to obtain the greatest benefit while incurring the least amount of stress, so you want to run as slow as you can while still obtaining the desired result. Have a systematic, progressive training plan, with each cycle of training building on what came before so that the entire program is seamless.

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Duke City Fit Secret #2: Increase your weekly running mileage very s l o w l y and spread it out over the whole week.

From a training standpoint, how quickly you increase your weekly mileage probably has the greatest impact on whether you get injured.

The slower you increase your weekly mileage, the less chance you’ll get injured. When you increase your mileage, add only about a mile per day of running so that you spread the stress around. For example, if you currently run 20 miles in four days per week, run no more than 24 miles next week by adding one mile to each of the four days. Don’t run 24 miles next week by adding all four miles to only one day of running.

Many books and articles quote the 10 percent rule of increasing mileage, but I’ve found nothing special about 10 percent, and you can often increase by more than that if you’re smart about how you do it.

If you’re a highly trained runner, you may be able to get away with adding more miles more quickly, especially if you have experience running more miles. For example, if you’ve run 60 miles per week in the recent past and now you’re training for your fifth marathon and building your mileage, you don’t necessarily have to go from 40 to 45 to 50 to 55 to 60 miles per week over a couple of months. You may be able to make bigger jumps in mileage because your legs already have experience running 60 miles per week.

However, if 60 miles per week is brand new territory for you, then you do need to increase your mileage in smaller increments. If you’re a new runner, an older runner, or are prone to injury, run the same mileage for three to four weeks before increasing it.

Secret #3: Don’t increase your running mileage every week.

Run the same mileage for two to four weeks before increasing it. Give your legs a chance to fully absorb and adapt to the workload before increasing the workload. You want 30 miles per week to be a normal experience for your body before increasing to 35 miles per week.

And that takes time.

Secret #4: Don’t increase the distance of your long run every week.

This is especially important if you’re entering unchartered territory with your long runs (i.e., you’ve never run that distance before). Repeat the same long run for a few weeks before running longer. You want a 9-mile run to become normal before you try to run 10 miles.

Most marathon and half-marathon training groups make the costly mistake of ramping up the long run too quickly because their training programs are only five to six months long, so they increase the distance of the long run every week throughout their programs until it’s time to taper two to three weeks before the race. That’s a good way for new or recreational runners to get injured, as you’re increasing the stress week after week after week. If you’re running your first marathon or half-marathon and

Springtime 2014

you’re starting from a short(ish) long run, you need to give yourself much longer than five or six months to prepare without risk of injury.

Secret #5: Don’t make the long run so long.

To avoid injury, don’t make your long run such a large percentage of your weekly running. Ideally, your long run shouldn’t be more than about a third of your weekly mileage. So, if your long run is 10 miles, you should run at least 30 miles per week. If your long run is 20 miles, you should run at least 60 miles per week. The majority of runners don’t run that much, so you need to be creative when training so that you don’t accumulate so much stress in one run. Don’t misunderstand—the long run should be stressful. After all, you’re running for a long time and trying to make yourself exhausted so your body adapts.

However, you don’t want the long run to be so much more stressful than any other run during the week. It’s always better to spread the stress around. To reduce the injury risk associated with a long run being much more than a third of your weekly mileage (which may happen if you’re training for a marathon and not running big weekly mileage), do a midweek, medium-long run that’s about 65 to 75 percent of the length (or duration) of your long run.

Secret #6: Run EASY on your easy days.

The biggest mistake runners make is running too fast on their easy days. By doing so, you add unnecessary stress to your legs without any extra benefit and you won’t be able to run as much quality on your harder days. Easy runs should feel gentle and allow you to hold a conversation (about 70-75% max heart rate).

Secret #7: Never increase your weekly mileage and the intensity of your workouts at the same time.

When you begin to include interval training and speedwork into your program, either reduce the overall mileage for the week or maintain your mileage from where it was prior to adding the interval training or speedwork. Your legs can handle only so much stress at once. Trying to increase your running while also increasing the intensity of your workouts is too much for most runners to handle.

Dr. Jason Karp is a nationally-recognized running and fitness expert, 2011 IDEA Personal Trainer of the Year, and owner of Run-Fit. He holds a Ph.D. in exercise physiology. He has more than 200 articles published in international running, coaching, and fitness magazines, is the author of five books, including Running for Women and Running a Marathon For Dummies. He is a frequent speaker at international fitness and coaching conferences, and won a team silver medal at the 2013 World Maccabiah Games in Israel. To get more secrets of running injury prevention, go to: run-fit.com/products.

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Uncle Uncle KC’s KC’s Corner Corner

Duke City Fit

What’s All the Hubbub?

If you are out and about the Duke City at all this spring, especially on the weekends, you’ll not help but notice the vast numbers of peoples in the parks running around in shorts and high socks attempting to kick a brightly colored ball. That ball is a soccer ball.

Those people are playing soccer, or learning to play soccer, although most of the rest of the civilized world actually calls it “football”. This is because it is a sport where you pretty much only use your feet. It makes sense.

But we Americans borrowed and bastardized the name “football” and used it for a sport where you pretty much only use your hands. This does NOT make sense, but there you have it. Football is football and soccer is soccer and in some places they call a couch a “chesterfield” so what in the heck do they know anyway? We’re calling it soccer and if you don’t like it you can put that with your football bag in your boot. Er... trunk. Why do they call a “trunk” a “boot”? I’m so confused.

Anyway, in the parks on weekends you’ll mostly see kids playing soccer. Kids of all ages. Boys, girls, big ones, little ones, of all sizes and shapes and playing abilities. Mostly, they are not very good, though. This is because they don’t spend a great deal of time actually playing the game of soccer. They spend much more of their time LEARNING to play the game of soccer.

They do drills and they listen to their coaches and they mess around with little orange cones and it’s not really a whole lot of fun. So when they finally get their chance on Saturday to get out there and play, they abandon all that crap on which they wasted their time all week and they get out there and run around and stab at the ball and try to kick it as hard as they can if they finally get a good shot at it and they have a good old time.

Or they would, if it weren’t for all the adults standing around screaming at ‘em. Do this... do that... stop doing whatever it is you’re doing. Run harder, get your head in the game, stop laughing.

Some of those screaming adults are coaches. Kinda. They are running one or the other of the teams and they have been through a clinic or two back in the fall and they are wearing a t-shirt that says “coach”. They are learning, too.

They never played the game and they never watch the game because it is boring as hell and they wouldn’t watch it now except that their kid is playing it and somehow they got shanghaied into being a coach.

They’ve been running drills with these kids after school, twice a week, and they are here now expecting to see all that drill work translate into on-the-field soccer acumen. When it doesn’t, they have no recourse but to scream. Which they do.

The ones who have been doing this for several years usually have hemorrhoids. Preparation H should be a proud sponsor of youth soccer.

You can sometimes also tell how long they’ve been “coaching” by taking a look at their soccer bag. The more orange cones they have, the longer the’ve been at it. The cones accumulate over the years. Some have so many orange cones that they can pretty much outline the entire field with cones. But they don’t do that on game day. If you see a bunch of orange cones out, you’re seeing a practice.

The kids are learning to use the cones as reference points in their drills. Then when those points are not there on the day

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when it is time to “put up or shut up” it can be awfully confusing to someone who is not real clear which foot is their right foot and which one is their left.

The other adults screaming from the sidelines are the parents of one or more of the children involved in the drill failures being enacted out on the coneless field. Usually it is just ONE child on the field for each set of screaming parents. This is because youth soccer teams are religiously and ruthlessly segregated by age and gender. This is a sacred tenet of youth soccer. Thou shalt play with strangers of thine own age and sex. Period.

The result of this stricture, by the way, is that near-age siblings, or neighbors even, who have played together in all things for most of their young lives are prohibited from doing so in this semi-organized version of screaming mayhem. This is for their own good. Sportsmanship and fair play.

Another result, or by-product, of this sacred segregation of children is that parents of multiple kids face a serious dilemma on Saturdays when their kids are playing on different teams at different fields and at randomly different times that may or may not overlap one another. But usually, they do. And the fields are also usually on the opposite sides of town from one another.

You can often spot these conflicted parents because there is only one of them in attendance at a particular game. Or one of them has to leave early. Or arrive late. Often these parents have a cell phone plastered to their ear between bouts of screaming. This is so they can keep track of their absent progeny’s sordid soccer achievements on another field on the other side of town.

Like soccer coaches and their cones, you can often tell how long these parents have been at it by how much they text rather than talk live. The less talking, the longer they’ve been spending time on Saturdays separated from the other half of their families. Texting also allows the parent to continue to scream “encouragement” while doing so. In longtime separation soccer parenting, even the text messaging is cut back to those times when their own child scores a goal.

Or when the darn game is finally over.

There may also be grandparents in attendance amongst the screaming masses of adults on the sidelines. They may be present by themselves, in pairs, as vocal surrogates for hopelessly schedule-conflicted parents. Or they may be in addition to the parents. Either way, they can usually be spotted by the way they sit together in cliquishly small groups of 2, 3, or 4. Most of the time, these groups will have matching lawn chairs. Grandparents notoriously do not like those folding “director chairs” out of a bag.

And speaking of chairs... the screaming parents and grandparents may be delineated from coaches by the fact that they are seated. It is clearly stated in the youth soccer coach

catechism that coaches shall not sit. “Not upon the ground, neither upon thy buttocks, nor upon any contrivance shalt thou sittest.”

Coaches must stand and they must pace. And they must consult obscure things on clipboards and they must yell.

Most of them cannot chew gum at this critical time. They have too much to do.

If you only cruise the parks within the Duke City limits on springtime weekends, you will see little but youth soccer.

This is not to say that kids are the only Albuquerqueans to play soccer. Au contraire. Rather, it is just that the adults and older kids have been mostly relegated to fields farther out and off the beaten path, far from the prying eyes and ears of innocent babes and moms with strollers. When they scream, they can often do it with more colorful language than their younger counterparts.

Many of these games are relegated to the fields of the soccer complex out in the bustling little community of Bernallilo. If you have not visited this monument to the worldly game of soccer in all of its 22-field glory, you owe it to yourself to do so. Simply take a right off of highway 550 just past the Star Casino, and about a mile out there you’ll find yourself in soccer nirvana. But be advised, Saturdays are reserved for the older youth “club teams” and since those teams apparently involve money, there is always a parking fee of five dollars to get yourself into the complex. It is not so on Sundays when the adults play. They, seemingly, no longer have the disposable income to waste on parking. They already spent it on their kid’s club teams.

Anyway, the kids and the grown kids that play at the complex are separated by days, Saturdays and Sundays, and by years, and by soccer-playing philosophies. And abilities.

The kids are on “club” teams. These are the kids whose parents have taken soccer so seriously that their offspring no longer play on teams coached by volunteers. It is not just a game anymore. No. They are on teams with paid coaches and designer warm-up outfits and matching gym bags. Their parents get to scream with a bit more intensity because they have a vested interest now, by God. Not the least of which is the five dollars they have to cough up every Saturday just to watch little Johnny ride the bench.

The club teams are generally not as much fun to watch.

They’re serious. And when their coach yells, he means business. People listen. He is not just frustrated because his left forward is over there in the corner of the field picking dandelions, he’s upset because Susie didn’t execute the in and out they practiced all week or Sammy missed badly on a simple give and go.

Sammy gets yanked and is now sitting by himself with his designer jacket over his head, and Susie, over on Field 4, has been moved back to defense where her poor ball-handling skills will be less apt to cost her team some valuable goalscoring opportunities. They are all hoping to get a soccer scholarship to North Carolina one day.

www.dukecityfit.com

Duke City Fit Elsewhere at the complex, mostly on Sundays, the “adults” take to the fields. There are all kinds of leagues... men’s, women’s, coed’s, and old-timers. The original old-timers of years back used to be the Over 30 group. But times have changed and now there are Over 40 and Over 50 leagues. They’re kinda fun to watch. They move a little slower for the most part, so you can actually see plays develop sometimes. And there are limited numbers of runs that they can make, so passing becomes more prevalent. And they talk a lot, do the old guys. There is often sarcasm intertwined with encouragement in their comments. Laughter amongst the cussing. There are doctors and physicists and newspaper editors playing out there. Many are retired. They are no longer playing for a chance at North Carolina. They are playing because they can. Amazingly, they still can.

From where I normally watch these games, down near the end of the field, there usually isn’t a whole lot of action. Scoring chances are relatively few and far between. When there is, it often comes and goes pretty quickly... a shot, a miss, a cuss word or two, and a quick pass up the sideline. Possibly there will be a sarcastic comment from one of the shooter’s teammates who used up valuable limited energy hustling his butt all the way down there only to see the ball turned around and going the other way. What the heck?

The scoring opportunities come a little more frequently in the other adult leagues. These guys and gals are a little bit younger, a little bit hungrier, and just a little bit pissed off at the world. They are still good, or finally good, or will be good. They’re not getting old. Thirty isn’t old. They go to the gym during the week and run themselves ragged at the soccer field on the weekend.

And they want to score, darn it. They want an accomplishment that is tangible and real. Like the number of lifts on the weight machine or the number of miles on the treadmill. A goal is a goal, and the game is much more satisfying if the ball finds its way into the back of the net.

This hunger for goal-scoring is, of course, present to varying degrees throughout all ages and levels of soccer. Goal scoring is, after all, for many, the very purpose of the game.

But this hunger reaches its apex in the young adult leagues. Particularly the men. Scoring takes precedence over all other aspects of the game. It reduces the pleasure of playing, and watching, to just a few choice moments. It becomes less of a game and more of a fight. A fight where someone may get hurt. All in the name of a ball in the net.

But that little aspect of soccer intensity is relatively small and short-lived. The boys are not young and virile forever. The lower division teams, the older teams, and the coed teams start drifting back toward the normalcy of soccer as a game. A recreational pastime. Backslapping fun once again. There are occasional hotheads or superstars or the guy who still holds a grudge against his high-school coach for making him ride the pine his senior year and is still out to prove him wrong. But for the most part, it is the game that matters, not so much the score. This is particularly true of the coed leagues where the range of skills and athletic abilities is tremendous. And this wide range is evident not only from team to team, but within teams themselves. Teams have weaker players. Sometimes this is a female player who hasn’t played very much and is on the team because her boyfriend is. Or vice versa. Or the team simply needs another player of a particular gender and pretty much any warm body will do.

You get on-the-job training.

But what is telling, to the interested observer, is how these teams use their less-skilled players. Or attack them. Some see the weak link on the other team and go after it. Repeatedly and with vigor. This is “good strategy” they say. Others play weak link against weak link and let the chips fall where they may. Strategy and sportsmanship often collide. It is a little confusing in a society that puts a premium on winning.

Yet through it all, soccer survives in the Duke City. More than survives, it thrives. It is almost as much a way of life around these parts as chile. And like chile, it can vary immensely in its intensity. It can be a mild addition to a pleasant afternoon picnic, or it can be a fiery major ingredient in a red-hot barbeque that takes you days to get ready for and even more days to recover from. Or it can be anything in between. And every now and then, you’ll run into one of those people who say they don’t like it. All you can really do is shrug your shoulders and smile at ‘em.

“That’s too bad,” you might say. “It’s pretty good around here.”

Springtime 2014

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Duke City Fit

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Duke City Fit Duke City Fit

Dynamic Fitness Lifestyle Good Attitude is POWER for Living Dynamically!!!

Don’t Be A LOSER! The ides of March are swiftly approaching as I pen this article for Duke City Fit. It is this time each year that finds many of you looking back wondering what the heck ever happened to all of that amazing New Year’s motivation and enthusiasm for getting fit in the New Year.

I am going to use 30 plus years of experience to professionally assume there is a very good chance that if you were sitting across from me right this very moment that you would be more than willing to admit to me that your motivation to get fit in 2014 was lost weeks ago. Now if by chance you are one of the few that are still going strong to achieve your best in the New Year then I whole heartedly congratulate you for your perseverance.

Now, losing motivation doesn’t make you a loser in any way, shape or form. It’s just a reminder that you are human.

So it is safe to say that you are not a loser, but unfortunately, quitting does make you a “quitter.”

Supposing you are like most people who find themselves repeatedly trying to muster up the motivation to start a wellness program, then you probably already know that it just keeps getting harder and harder to get restarted again the more times you quit. Don’t fret my friends, because I have the perfect answer to your dilemma... STOP QUITTING! I know, I know. Most of you are thinking, that’s easier said than done, Dwain. However, the way that you can effectively “stop quitting” is to come to the understanding that fitness is a healthy relationship between you and your body that ultimately leads to wellness.

And wellness is ultimately a journey that is motivated and inspired by successfully living your life one healthy meal, one productive workout, and one blessed day at a time. It manifests itself at all levels.

Most people never really come to the understanding that wellness is simply a journey that is grounded in making healthy lifestyle choices. Instead, they find themselves battling insignificant things like the bathroom scale. The scale doesn’t define you and neither does your body weight. The choices that you make are what eventually define you. And it is those choices that can be controlled one healthy choice at a time.

Now take a long slow deep breath and say, “I am going to be just fine.” Healthy choices start with healthy thoughts and positive affirmations.

Our minds will definitely make or break us. If you think “I can’t” then you simply won’t. If you think “I can” then you most certainly will.

If you are persistent… You WILL get it… If you are consistent… You WILL keep it!!!

“Never quit.”

If you stumble, get back up. What happened yesterday, no longer matters. Today is another day to get back on track. If you don’t have your best day today, simply be thankful that in the overall grand scheme of things you are one step closer to accomplishing your goals and, ultimately, experiencing your dreams coming to fruition. Trust me, you WILL succeed if you “don’t quit.”

I always have that one person that comes to me expecting me to wave a magic wand. It can’t be done. I can’t change your life. I can help you make changes in your life by giving you the tools to work with. But the one and only person that can truly change your life is the very same person that you see each and every time you look in the mirror. YOU are in complete control of the choices that you make. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you will be on your way to achieving greatness!

Springtime 2014

Now say this with me, “I am in complete control of making healthy choices on a moment to moment, hour to hour, and day to day basis.”

Now reaffirming this every morning is a great way to start each day, until it just becomes the way that you live your life.

You have a chance, now take it. If that chance will change your life, let it. I’m not saying that it will be easy. But I do promise that it will be worth it!

Dynamic Rules of Engagement for Not Quitting!

1. Capitalize on your abilities to make better choices and then plan for efficiency.

2. Take responsibility for your own actions and make yourself accountable, if you have a hard time being accountable to yourself then make yourself accountable to someone that you trust to have your best interest at heart.

3. Be Proactive… Take a proactive approach to your life and then to achieving your goals. Think things through in a positive manner. Thinking things through is not an excuse for talking yourself out of doing the right things!

4. Practice Daily Visualization… Look at something that might have always been there (i.e. a big belly) and begin to envision what you want to be there instead (i.e. a flat tummy).

Dwain Kindelberger has been a Personal Trainer since 1981. He is a graduate of The National Academy of Sports Medicine, and is the owner of Designer Bodies Exclusive Personal Training and Nutrition Management Center.

5. Set high expectations for yourself and then exceed them!

6. Make a plan, pick your direction and then pursue it with all of your heart!

7. Make everyday Thanksgiving…be thankful for love, your spouse, your children, your home and your job. Be thankful for your health, no matter how bad you think it is, it could be worse. And give your best to those around you by sharing your blessings with them!

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Don’t get discouraged when you think you should be making faster progress. Progress is progress no matter how little or how great the progress may be. It takes 6 months to build a Rolls Royce and 13 hours to build a Toyota. There is definitely nothing wrong with Toyotas, they are good solid automobiles. They simply are NOT Rolls Royce’s.

I was a world class bodybuilder for many years. It took me close to 12 years to achieve the look that I was striving for. But interestingly enough, by the time I achieved that level of development, I no longer had the desire to compete against other athletes. You see, I was content in knowing what I had achieved and I sincerely loved the lifestyle that I was living. It wasn’t easy but it was definitely worth it.

Now I know 99.9% of my readers have no desire to become a competitive bodybuilder or fitness model. But I promise you that your mind and attitude will make or break your efforts to live dynamically. Think of it this way. Eating a clean healthy diet and exercising 4-5 days a week will build a strong healthy heart, body, mind and spirit that will benefit you in each and every area of your life. Need I say more?

Until next time… “Don’t Quit.”

www.designerbodies.com

The information contained in this article is not meant to treat, diagnose or cure any ailments or diseases. Please consult your physician before starting any exercise or nutrition program.

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Duke City Fit

Whothies tCohat Guy So, On ver ?

What Has He Got on His Feet?

And What In the Heck Is That Thing in the Background ?

First off, that is a “semi” in the background. A white tractor trailer heading southbound on Interstate 25. He’s doing about 65, I’d say. But that is not what you’re wondering about, is it?

He is about to go under a brand new Biking/Pedestrian bridge that the City of Albuquerque just built. It looks like it is something out of a Lego movie. If legos were made of steel.

If you look at the Official Albuquerque Bike Trails Map back on Page 9, you can see the bridge there. It is the green line going over the interstate line, exactly three bridges south of the red-white-blue Interstate 25 insignia. The green line is labeled “Bear Arroyo”. It goes under Jefferson and over I-25. The green lines are off-road paved trails that run all over this fair city. If you haven’t ridden your bike over this new bridge yet, all I can say is: wassamatta you?

Interested in Skikes Or Skiking?

Chris Norton is currently your go-to skike guy around these parts. He’s been using them for four years now and that makes him as about as knowledgeable as you are likely to find anywhere near the Duke City.

Chris is originally from upstate New York where where he grew up with and learned to love Nordic skiing. (Nordic skiing is the cross-country style of skiing, as opposed to the downhill “Alpine” type skiing.)

For a while, post-college, he was in a Biathlon Club. “Biathlon” is the winter sport where you ski around for a while and then pull out a rifle, lay down, and shoot at targets. You may have seen some of this at the Winter Olympics. It is a strangely demanding sport. He was recruited by the military for this skill and spent several years therein, traveling the world to compete for America in biathlons.

Now he is in the Duke City, and he says his competition days are over. But he still loves to ski, and he swears that these skikes are the closest thing to skiing that he has ever found.

And he’s tried ‘em all. And Albuquerque has a vast, paved bike trail system that was just made for skiking. They are a perfect way to not only enjoy the thrills of skiing, but actually to work on and to improve his skiiing techniques.

Since we got together to get these photos and a story, Chris has decided to invest some of his time into spreading the skike word. He has gotten a few pairs of skikes as demos and is going to offer a free skike clinic to any and all interested persons.

The clinics will be on April 5th and 6th, 9am, at the Alameda/Rio Grande bike path parking lot. Contact him for info on what to bring and to confirm a spot on list: nmskike@gmail.com

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The guy on the cover, and in this photo cruising down the ramp, is Chris Norton. He is a skiing enthusiast who has found an alternative way to practice and improve his cross-country skiing techniques, without the snow. Or cold. Those things on his feet are called “Skikes”, which is a creative combination of the words “skis” and “bikes”. Get it?

(By the way, for the enquiring minds out there, a combination of the sounds and meanings of two words into one word is called a “portmanteau” word. This was first coined, it is thought, by author Lewis Carroll in his novel of Alice, ‘Through the Looking Glass”. It was used by Humpty Dumpty, no less. Go ahead, impress your friends.)

Be that as it may, the skikes on Chris’ feet are a little different from other forms of similar devices, like roller blades or roller skis. The major difference, and a big improvement for Chris, is that these skikes actually have inflatable tires. Like bikes, albeit smaller. His are 5” radius tires.

Inflatable tires are a big deal, he tells me. The other devices have those little, solid plastic wheels, and if you have ever ridden on them on the trails, you might understand what a pain in the patooty they are. (Patooty is my grandma’s word and it is NOT a portmanteau word. I don’t think.)

With the old-style solid wheels, you feel every little crack and bump as the wheels jar your feet all the way up to your jawbone. And even the smallest of rocks can send your wheels skittering off in a new direction.

They are really not the best rolling technology for us here in the Duke City, where rocks and cracks abound. The inflated tires of the skikes roll right on over most of the pavement aberrations, relatively smoothly.

Also, Chris notes, the roller blades and skis require a big old boot. The blades are actually integrated into a boot, and the roller skis require a big plastic boot very much like a ski boot. They are nearly as cumbersome as the ski boots, and just about as costly. Another pain in the... well, you know.

With the skikes, however, you can simply use whatever shoes you’d like to use. They strap in with velcro straps and you are off and skiing without all the buckling, straining doo-dah.

Ah, but the crowning triumph of the skikes, the pièce de résistance if you will, is that the skikes have brakes! Hallelujah brothers! The lack of brakes on roller skis, or indeed, any good way to brake them at all, is a serious deficiency in Chris’ estimation.

The brakes on skikes are adjustable and you activate them by leaning back... they are basically up against the back of your calves. Lean your calf back and you have brakes. It takes a little practice, but it isn’t difficult. And it is a vast improvement over the alternative, which is to skid off into the trailside gravel.

Oh, and the answer to the goathead question that you were dying to ask is, yes, Chris does put slime tire sealant into the inflatable tires. All inflatable tires on Albuquerque trails should have slime in them. Now you know.

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Duke City Fit Demand Soars For Relief of Severe Neck and Back Pain!

People Are Swarming in Overwhelming Numbers For Treatment At The New Mexico Back Institute.Treatments are FDA Cleared, No Side Effects & Best Of All...

It’s Non-Surgical & Painless!!

Denver, CO – Recent medical breakthroughs have led to the development of advanced technologies to relieve severe back and neck pain without drugs or surgery. Through the combination of proven scientific principles, the latest technological developments and the brilliant work of physicians and medical engineers– this space age technology is available to the general public via licensed and trained doctors, in its incredible DRX 9000 spinal decompression equipment. The DRX 9000 is an FDA cleared medical technology for providing True Spinal Decompression and has been clinically proven with up to an 88.9% success rate with back pain and symptoms associated with hernated and/or bulging discs...even after failed surgery.

WHY SO MUCH EXCITEMENT? Since 60% of spinal fusion surgery patients continue to suffer and conventional treat ments such as medications, injec tions and exercise therapy offertemporary results, the fu ture is bleak. The treatmentprogram at The New Mexi co Back Institute works for:• Back and Neck Pain • Sciatica/Numbness • Herniated and/or bulging “ I had such intense pain from a sec discs (single or multiple) ond herniated disc that I could not walk without the aid of crutches.

• Degenerative disc disease Couldn’t shower or even dress and • A relapse or failure was out of work for a month. After 3 weeks of treatments my pain was following surgery GONE! I have recommended this procedure to at least seven people. I • Facet syndromes pray that they try it.”

• Spinal Stenosis ~ Eva Wilkstrom, Denver • Spondylolisthesis CLINICAL RESULTS Several university studies at Johns Hopkins, Stanford and Duke have confirmed what doctors in practice have known for years, the treatments plain WORK! Dr. John Leslie, who is a clinical re searcher from the prestigious Mayo Clinic reports a 50% reliefof back and leg pain after 2 weeks and an overall 88.9% success rate at the end of a six week protocol. Our own case studies have shown 50% reduction of disc protrusions after 4 weeks relieving the pressure on the sensitive nerves, thus reducing your pain.

HOW IT WORKS The advanced computer system automatically adjusts to the proper angle of decompression, allowing us to target specific discs...that are causing your pain and symptoms.

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The gentle decompressive forces utilize a logarithmic curve to avoid proprioceptor (pain) response, which would create muscle spasm. The split table design decreases friction and allows gentle separation of the vertebra to reduce pressures on the tissues causing pain and encourage hydration of the discs.

PAIN-LESS TREATMENTS Patients describe the treatment as a gentle, painless, intermittent pulling of your back. Many patients actu ally fall asleep during treatment! A spinal strengthening and stabilization program is often included with thetreatment protocol in order to achieve optimal long term results. The number and duration of treatments are determined by the supervising physician. Many patients get substantial, immediate relief after just a few treatments.

GETTING STARTED Call one of the Albuquerque area clinics to schedule a no-obligation consultation. Only a consultation and evalu ation by the doctor can determine if you qualify for thistreatment and the number and length of the care plan.

The New Mexico Back Institute has more experience with decompression than any other health center in New Mexico.

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Springtime 2014

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Duke City Fit Duke City Fit

Dr Elaine Adams

n e p p a H d l u o C It Late 2010

I want to share a very happy story with you. This story is one that makes me so proud and so grateful to be a chiropractor. I want to tell you about my oldest daughter and her journey of eight years.

I was working in my office on approximately April 4, 2006 when I received a call from my family saying that my daughter had been in a head on car crash and she was being transported to the hospital. My heart was pounding in my chest. We had no idea how seriously she had been injured.

I raced to the hospital and found her in terrible pain, but breathing and for that I was grateful. We made sure that there was nothing that needed to be done in the hospital and we took her home. The bruising and pain she was suffering was terrible. Her abdomen was black from top to bottom from the engine landing in her lap. It was weeks before she could even sit up unassisted.

We thought that as the bruising subsided and she began to be able to move that she was on the path to healing. She remained with one problem, she couldn’t walk. She had pain in her ankle and it remained undiagnosed.

No one really knew why her ankle was too painful to even bear weight. She could not tolerate any weight bearing and she was also unable to tolerate the boot that the orthopedist gave her.

After several MRI’s she was finally diagnosed with a talus fracture. The talus is the bone that supports the whole structure of the ankle and in the process of the accident this bone was crushed. It is a difficult fracture to identify and

my daughter had tried to walk on the ankle and we may have added to the problem. So we waited for her ankle to heal.

Only it didn’t. The pain kept increasing and she remained unable to walk. I knew we had a problem when she told me that she wished it only hurt as bad as it did when it was broken.

We began a round of doctors and pain killers and frustration and exams and disappointments and struggles that we thought would never end. My daughter was on a merrygo-round that we thought would never end. My walls would never be the same since she had to learn how to navigate the house in a wheel chair. She could walk for a few steps but she spent most of her time in a wheel chair.

I began researching the conditions that could possibly be causing my daughter’s problems. At first I didn’t want to recognize what might be the problem. But as her symptoms continued to progress, I began to look into complex regional pain syndrome or as it was known when I was in school, reflex sympathetic dystrophy. This mysterious condition causes the limb that is affected to be reactive to cold, turn red or blue, lose the hair on the limb and pain, always pain.

There were support groups, but not much hopeful support.

The limb involved in this mysterious condition sometimes becomes so useless and painful that it is amputated.

My chiropractic friends offered suggestions; the pain specialists offered the pain killer du jour. But nothing helped, it just made her tired and depressed. Depression made the pain worse and then she became more depressed.

She began to gain weight and it became harder and harder to walk and to even get up and get around. She attempted to get a job but couldn’t stay up in her wheel chair long enough to maintain it. The situation was really grim.

She was twenty years old and she was in pain. Constantly.

So we began. We changed her diet, bit by bit. She ate more alkaline and drank more water.

We kept her walking as much as she could. On her good days we could keep her out of the wheel chair and out of bed for most of the day, but on bad days she still couldn’t even stay up. She applied for disability and we proceeded to try to figure out how Our offices offer - Full Exercise Rehabilitation Programs, to make a life for a young lady who lived in constant pain.

Nutritional Counseling, Massage Therapy, We kept up hands-on therapies. and Homeopathic Trigger-Point Injections.

We had her in massage and she received regular chiropractic 24 Hour Emergency Care treatments. We kept looking for Appointments Available! an allopathic solution, but there didn’t seem to be one. We were Most Insurance Accepted • We do the Paperwork advised to make the best of it and they would send us on our way.

Dr. Elaine Adams Dr. Lonnie Peets But we kept up with the dietary changes and the little bits of (505) 822-0306 Albuquerque Serving Albuquerque and exercise and the massage and the Rio Rancho for nearly 25 years!

(505) 891-3111 Rio Rancho chiropractic treatments. CRPS is www.lifetimechiropractic.com a demon that has several stages.

The third and final stage was 26 The Lifetime TEAM of Professionals are ready to help you feel great again! the one where bones begin to

Lifetime Chiropractic

Lifetime Chiropractic

Today

demineralize and deteriorate. We fought against this stage with everything we had. Interestingly enough, the longer she had the disorder the less the allopathic community wanted to diagnose it. Because if she had had the problem for the years that she had it, she must be in stage three, but she wasn’t.

So where is the happy part of the story? It’s where we are today. My daughter is now 28 and she has moved to Austin and is working and in school. I never thought she would be able to do any of those things. But it happened. I’m telling the story for all of those who live in chronic pain and think that there is no way out. I’m not saying that there always is a way, but don’t give up. Where the medical model might fail you, there are alternatives that work.

Over the course of the illness my daughter had developed a severe weight problem that worsened her condition.

At one point the pain syndrome spread to her ribs and for several months it was too painful for her to eat. She essentially went on a juice fast. She lost about 40 pounds and with the motivation from that juice fast she began to change. She began exercising a little at a time and she began to get stronger. She still dealt with pain on a daily basis, but she increased her exercise and cleaned up her eating habits a little at a time. She drank water instead of soda and she kept moving. She got massages on her leg and she got adjusted. She visited one last pain doctor and they gave her a low dose medication that brought the rib pain under control.

Within a few months we didn’t take the wheel chair everywhere we went. She began to go days without it. She still couldn’t go on long expeditions without the chair, but for normal activities she was able to walk. It was a miracle for our family. She manages her pain with low dose medications and she now walks everywhere.

Chronic pain sufferers often live without hope. I’m not sure how many are likely to pick up Duke City Fit, but I hope if you know someone living in pain, that you will share this with them. People who deal with chronic pain are often treated as though if they would only be strong, they would get better. If they were stronger people they wouldn’t suffer from this pain. Or better yet, they are treated as though they are faking it or drug seekers or they are just a little bit crazy.

My daughter is going to graduate and move to California to follow her dreams and many of the people in her world now don’t even know that she lived through a horrifying car accident and developed a chronic pain syndrome. She doesn’t have a wheel chair with her. She had to pause her life but she didn’t have to give it up. She has worked hard but it has been worth it. She still lives with pain, but it doesn’t control her life. She still has CRPS but she also has a life.

If you suffer from chronic pain or know someone who does, let them know to keep up the hope. Keep working.

Good health is possible. A little tiny step at a time.

Dr. Elaine Adams has been practicing in New Mexico for nearly 25 years. She has a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree in Behavioral Psychology. She spent her early career in the field of autism. She has served on the Board of Directors of the New Mexico Chiropractic Association for most of those years. She was voted Chiropractor of the year in 2000. She obtained her Advanced Chiropractic License in the first graduating class in 2010. You can contact her office for a consultation on the services available or for an appointment with Dr. Adams.

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Duke City Fit

Springtime 2014

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Duke City Fit

Calendar of Events

SPRING Events in red require preregistration or reservations Ongoing Yoga With a View, $15, 9-10:30am, Starting April 7 Every Sunday, Open Space Visitor Center 6500 Coors NW, Yoga in a beautiful setting (1st class is $5) 897-8831 Albuquerque Downtown Growers’ Market, begins in May, Saturdays, 7 am - 12 pm , Robinson Park, 8th & Central, Gina Meyers, 243-2230 x106 Nob Hill Growers’ Market, begins in May, Thursdays, 3 pm - 6:30 pm, Morningside Park - Lead & Morningside SE, Catherine Gordon, 934-8960 Los Ranchos Growers Market, begins in May, Saturdays, 10am-noon, 6718 Rio Grande Blvd. NW, Sue Brawley 890-2799 Corrales Growers Market, Sundays 9am-noon begins in May Recreation Center 500 Jones Rd & Corrales Rd, Bonnie Gonzalez 898-6336 NM Volunteers for the Outdoors, Learn new skills with cool tools, “rub shoulders” with forest rangers, enjoy the camaraderie of new friends, & help to build & maintain a variety of trails. www.nmvfo.org Qigong in the Park, Saturdays s 9-10am: Altura Park located at Hannett and Morningside NE, Qigong practice for all, Loretta 681-1924 qigonginthepark.com Rio Grande Nature Center Bird Walks, Free, 8:30am (8am in May), Saturdays & Sundays, join a naturalist for a quiet bird walk, preregister, 344-7240 Rio Grande Nature Center Nature Walks, Free, Sundays, 1pm, an insightful nature tour of the bosque, preregister, 344-7240

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2014

High Desert Bicycles Group Ride, Free, March 15 9-10:30am every Saturday, 909 36th Full Moon Run by Heart n Sole Sports, Place SE in Rio Rancho, bring bike (or Free, 7:30pm, Kit Carson Park rent one) & join the group, 896-4700 1744 Kit Carson Ave NW HnS info: 884-7653 March 16 Shamrock Shuffle, 10K/KidsK, 8:30am, RioRancho Aquatic Center www.irunfit.org March 14 Bike Mechanics I, $10, 6-8pm, by City of ABQ at Esperanza Community Bike Shop - 5600 Esperanza NW, fundamentals of the basic tune-up, shifting systems, brake systems, maintenance techniques 224-6668

March April May

March 20 Vernal Equinox, First Day of Spring Day and night are about same length March 22 Open Space Echo Canyon/Tijeras Canyon Volunteer Cleanup, Free, 8:30am, Volunteers will do general clean up activities that protect wildlife and the landscape, bring work gloves, wear boots, and dress for the desert, Contact 452-5213 Jim Sattler

Backyard Bird Habitat, Free, 1-3pm, Attract birds to a backyard sanctuary with the advice of a local expert., Open Space March 22-23 Visitor Center 6500 Coors NW, For info Bataan Memorial Death March, 25th & to register: 897-8831 Annual, 7am, White Sands Missile Range, www.batannmarch.com

March 26 Spring Garden Preparations, Free, 12-1:30 pm, Time to get that garden in shape - learn the steps, Juan Tabo Libray - 3407 Juan Tabo Blvd NE, 291-6260 March 29 4th Annual Open Space Route 66 Volunteer Cleanup, Free, 8:30am, Volunteers will do general clean up activities that protect wildlife and the landscape, bring work gloves, wear boots, and dress for the desert, Highway 333 east of Tramway 1 mile Contact 452-5213 Jim Sattler City of ABQ Presents: Bogart in “The African Queen” at Kimo Theater, $5-$7, 7-8:45pm, Humphrey Bogart & Katherine Hepburn in the iconic film, See it on the big screen in the Kimo! www.kimotickets.com 768-3544 March 30 The Color Dash - The Worlds Brightest 5K, 8:30am, $40 (big discounts for multiple family members) Santa Ana Star Center in Rio Rancho, be prepared to be colorized!, www.thecolordash5k.com

www.dukecityfit.com

Duke City Fit fitness, commuting, or rec, 224-6668 April 25 Bike Roadside Maintenance, $10, 6-8pm, by City of ABQ at Esperanza Community Bike Shop - 5600 Esperanza April 5 Run Against Traffic, 5K Run/Walk, 8am, NW, flat tire repair and prevention, simple brake and shifting fixes, and other New Mexico Veterans’ Memorial Park -1100 Louisiana Blvd. SE, benefit against common roadside repairs 224-6668 human trafficking, April 26 runagainsttraffick.com Ability Walk Albuquerque, 9am, Tiguex Park across from the Albuquerque Ellen Reavis Race for Autism, 9am, Museum a fun, non-competitive walk to Balloon Fiesta Park, Contact: celebrate people of all abilities Sarah Baca 332-0306 505-268-5076 nmautismsociety.org 14th Annual Open Space Spring Cleanup at East End of Copper, Free, 9am, Volunteers will do general clean up activities that protect wildlife and the landscapes of the foothills, bring work gloves, wear boots, and dress for the desert Contact: Jim Sattler 452-5213 April 6 Forever Young Race, 9am, Memorial race for Charlie Young, Placitas- 1/2 mile east of Homestead Village on NM 165, race day registration www.abqroadrunners.com (calendar)

Hula Hustle, 8am, $30, Albuquerque Academy, Runners/Walkers get leid at our lei-ing stations, hulahustle.blogspot.com Rio Grande Retro Triathlon, 7:30am, $25, Rio Grande Pool near zoo, 948-7971 riograndetriathlon.com Open Space Spring Cleanup Piedra Lisa Trailhead, Free, just north of Candelaria, see description on April 5... Copper Cleanup

BikeABQ’s 20th Annual Bike Swap, Open Space Bosque Wild Sunday Morn- Free, 10am-3pm, biggest swap in NM, check-in “for sale” items on April 24-25, ing Hike, Free, 9-11am, join biologists for a guided walk into the bosque, Visitor Sports Systems 6915 Montgomery NE, www.bikeabq.org (See ad page 5) Center 6500 Coors NW, For info & to register: 897-8831 April 12 Open Space Spring Cleanup at East End of Indian School, Free, 9am, see description on April 5... Copper Cleanup April 15 Twilight Hike on a Full Moon Night, Free ($3 Parking), Dusk, Tentative date, Call for time & date, Rio Grande Nature Center 2901 Candelaria NW, 344-7240 April 16 Full Moon Run by Heart n Sole Sports, Free, 7:45pm, Kit Carson Park 1744 Kit Carson Ave NW HnS info: 884-7653 April 19 Albuquerque Half Marathon, 8am, Alvarado Elementary School, www.irunfit.org

May 3 Valles Caldera Runs - 10K/Half Marathon/Marathon, 7:30am, Valles Caldera National Preserve, popular runs on dirt roads and trails in the spectacular Valles Caldera National Preserve, this is your chance highaltitudeathletics.org Kris Kern kernkt@cybermesa.com 140th Kentucky Derby, Roses/Horses, Mint Juleps are in order May 4 29th Annual Run for the Zoo, 7am, runforthezoo.com 764-6280

native plants, Rio Grande Nature Center 2901 Candelaria NW, 344-7240 May 11 Mother’s Day 5K, 9am, ABQ Academy adiosraceproductions.com

5h Annual Safari Run & Race With Kenyans for Global Health 8K, Midtown Sports and Wellness, a Volcanoes Hike at Petroglyphs National wonderful collaboration with local elite Monument, Free, 10-11:30am, Learn Kenyan runners who run this 8 K race, about geologic processes and the cultural ghp-usa.org significance of the volcanoes, Volcanoes Day Use Area -I40 West to Atrisco Vista May 31 Blvd. (exit #149) north 4.8 miles, Pollys Run, 8am, ABQ Academy, 10k/5k 899-0205 x338 run/walk, to keep memories of Polly Rogers and all the loved ones we have May 14 lost to pancreatic cancer alive Full Moon Run by Heart n Sole Sports, www.irunfit.org Free, 8:15pm, Kit Carson Park 1744 Kit Carson Ave NW June 8 HnS info: 884-7653 National Trails Day, free, 8am-1pm, Elena Gallegos picnic area, Volunteers Twilight Hike on a Full Moon Night, will work on over 10 different Free ($3 Parking), Dusk, Tentative date, conservation projectss, registration in Call for time & date, Rio Grande Nature April, 452-5213 Jim Sattler Center 2901 Candelaria NW, 344-7240

May 17 Open Space Bosque Wild Sunday MornNational River Cleanup Day, Free, 8amOpen Space Spring Cleanup at East End ing Hike, Free, 9am, join biologists for 1pm, Volunteers will do general clean of Menaul, Free, see description on April a guided walk into the bosque, Visitor up, lunch provided, Northeast side of 5.. Copper Cleanup Center 6500 Coors NW, For info & to Central Ave bridge, Contact: register: 897-8831 452-5200 Kent Swanson April 21 City Cycling, $10, 5:30-8:30pm, by City of ABQ at Esperanza Community Bike SHop - 5600 Esperanza NW, Learn to cycle safely in ABQ as a cyclist for

Springtime 2014

May 10-11 Herbfest at the Nature Center, Free ($3 Parking), 10am-4pm, springtime celebration of herbs, wildflowers &

Resort and winds up Tramway ending at Tram, ABQ Running Shop 293-2786, www.abqrunningshop.com

May 18 Worlds Toughest 10K, $27-$40, Scenic and challenging 10K starts at the Sandia

Open Space Bosque Wild Sunday Morning Hike, Free, 9am, join biologists for a guided walk into the bosque, Visitor Center 6500 Coors NW, For info & to register: 897-8831 June 13 Full Moon Run by Heart n Sole Sports, Free, 7:30pm, Kit Carson Park 1744 Kit Carson Ave NW HnS info: 884-7653

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Duke City Fit It’s Springtime. We’re heading into warmer weather.

It’s time to think about getting out there and communing with Mother Nature. Have a pajama party. Toast some marshmallows.

Stay the night. With that in mind, let’s go over our

Camping Basics Ken Orth

Camping is in my blood. It started back in the heartland, for me and my 4 siblings, when our family would go camping every summer for our one or two week vacation. It was, I think, the only way they could afford to take us anywhere. But take us they did, and even now I get a smile on my face when I think of my mother trying to keep track of us all as we scattered out hither and yon in the proximity of running rivers and deep lakes and the fearsome bears of Yellowstone Park.

To me, to this day, I think that I have never felt anything so comforting as bedtime when camping was then. That feeling of snuggling up into a sleeping bag in a tent and drifting off to sleep listening to the hushed voices of my parents talking out there next to the fire. I can feel it still.

Throughout the years of Boy Scouts and bachelorhood, the camping side of life stayed ever with me. It varied some, from the damp forests of Kentucky or the Olympic peninsula of Washington, to the bone dry deserts of New Mexico and Arizona, and everything in between.

But it was always there. And I believed then, as I believe now, that if I go too long without a camping trip I will go into some kind of achey withdrawal symptoms. My psyche demands that I periodically refresh my lungs and my soul with an extended outing into the peaceful silence of a tent and a fire.

Now, there are people... I know there are... that have never been camping and/or who think that they do not like camping. Over the years I have introduced more than a couple of these people to the simple pleasure. Of those, very few have decided they didn’t like it. In fact, quite the contrary. If it is done right, it’s hard to beat. And because of those experiences, I have been forced to form my first axiom of camping, and that is: do not take a potential mate camping unless you want them to fall in love with you. Or leave you forever.

For surely, one or the other will happen.

Here in New Mexico, and particularly here in the Duke City, we are smack dab right in the middle of camping paradise. One can go in any direction, and I mean literally ANY direction, and find a host of wonderful camping spots of all shapes and personalities. If you live here in NM, and you do not camp, I think it may be akin to living, say, in Hawaii and not going to the beach.

What are you thinking?

With that in mind, I hereby present to you for your literary and life-enhancing enjoyment, Duke City Fit’s friendly beginners guide to the simple pleasures of car camping. If you are a camper already, come along with us anyway if for no other reason than to see if you can catch me in a wild, bald-faced lie when I start relating my tall-tale camping yarns. If you are not a camper, well, you can get a taste of what the whole thing is all about.

Either way, its a good chance to talk about a very popular pastime.

Let’s start with a little semantic exercise. What I am describing here within is lovingly referred to as “car camping”. By our definition, that means that you camp no further from your vehicle than you can comfortably carry a fully loaded cooler.

The term “car camper” may be used derisively by the more hard core backpacking groups who don’t really consider it camping unless you’ve carried everything in on your back for 10 or 15 miles, but

30

they are rather a noisome splinter group and can safely be ignored.

Among the car-camping group, there are two semi-distinct subsets.

“Primitive” camping, is, as the name implies, a little more primitive. Meaning, lacking in conveniences. In this case, “conveniences” means drinking water, bathrooms, and picnic tables.

Primitive camping has none of these. You go where you want and you take everything you’ll need with you. The Forest Service often refers to this type of camping as “dispersed” camping.

It can be a wonderful way to camp, particularly for those seeking real solitude, but is a little more advanced and should maybe be left off until one has a few experiences under their belt.

The other side of the camping coin is the more traditional style: “developed” or “improved” campgrounds. These have the aforementioned accoutrements and congregate multiple sites together into a campground. Most of these, since the defunding of the forest service by our elected representatives, are now run by private companies, even in the National Forests and Parks. They usually charge a fee for their services. Some do a better job at it than others.

By the way, there is a whole ‘nother set of “campers” here that we are going to leave out of this discussion. They are the ones the Boy Scouts referred to as the “cadillac campers”. They are the RV’s and monstrous 5th wheel trailers with generators and big screen tv’s. Avoid them like the plague. You’ll get more of a camping experience in your back yard.

I have absolutely no biases.

Anyway, as for camping equipment, the basic necessities are three-fold: a tent, a sleeping bag, and a mattress pad. All three are vital.

I have been through more tents than I’d care to shake a marshmellow stick at. I went for MANY years with a cheap. blue-light special tent from Kmart, and I was perfectly content.

But I was young and stupid. I gave it up after a freak September blizzard caught us out in Glacier National Park and collapsed the thing down around our necks in the middle of the night. Since then I have experimented with a multitude of tent makes and styles and my thought on it is this... if you’re just going to go camping once in a blue moon or you’re just trying the idea out and you’re always going to be within scrambling distance of your car, then a blue-light special may be just the thing.

But if you’re wanting to take it seriously, and you think you may want that thrilling experience of riding out a massive thunderstorm from within the comfortable confines of a nylon-sided abode, then get yourself a better tent.

It is my belief that aluminum poles are mandatory. Fiberglass poles can and will break.

And they’ll break when the wind is blowing the hardest and you are wishing your hardest that they’ll hold up. The aluminum ones may bend, but they’re not going to snap and punch a jagged end through the flapping tent material.

The tent should have a separate rainfly that, preferably, covers the entire tent. And it should have good zippers. You don’t want a zipper jamming and getting stuck on a night when the mosquitoes are flying in ravaging hordes just searching for an opening in some poor schlemiel’s

tent door mosquito netting.

After much trial and error, our family has settled upon a tent by Eureka. An Equinox 6. Ours has taken some brutal punishment over the dozen years it has been with us. If it ever does decide to give up the ghost, I will get another one without hesitation.

Perhaps more important than the tent (although it is debatable), is the sleeping bag. Since the dawn of camping when big, heavy, square, cotton sleeping bags were the norm, they have continually improved and come down in price and improved some more. There really is no excuse for having an inadequate bag anymore. They are rated by an estimated low temperature at which they will supposedly keep someone warm. Take this rating with a grain of salt. Get one that goes colder than you expect it will ever get with you in it. You can always unzip it if you get too warm. But believe me, here in New Mexico that won’t happen very often. Get a 20° bag and don’t go camping in Glacier in September. Get mom a 0° bag. Her toes are always cold. Goose down bags used to be the elite of bags, but no more. Down is horrible when it gets wet. Don’t bother with the extra cost. Manmade fibers are the way to go.

But that bag, even a 0° bag, won’t be worth a darn if you’re not using it on top of a mattress or pad of some kind. This is imperative. And it is not just to make things more comfortable (although that is certainly worthy side effect). It is insulation from the ground and you MUST have it. Even if it is just a foam pad. Otherwise you will lose too much of your body heat into the ground. Those old air mattresses you use out on the lake will leak eventually, and it’ll probably happen on the same night that the fiberglass pole breaks and the mosquito net zipper jams and the goose-down bag gets wet. The camping trip from hell. Our family has splurged on self-inflating “Thermarest” pads.

We’ve had my original one for 24 years, and we’re still using it.

Now, if you’ve got those basics, tent, bag, and pad, you’re well on your way. In fact, those and a well-stocked cooler, and you can probably get by. But there are certainly other things that might make things just a little more enjoyable.

Our family members absolutely love to read in bed. It is among the sublime pleasures of camping to lay in a snug bag, reading a good book by the light of a flashlight or lantern while the rain taps gently on the walls of the tent. The newer LED flashlights and headlamps have revolutionized the genre. I now have a 3-LED headlamp with a high/ low setting and I couldn’t be happier. The low setting is perfect for reading, and the high setting leaves you hands-free to go look for more wood when the fire runs low. Mine is an “Ozark Trail Headlamp Faro Led” and I am still on my first set of 3 AAA batteries nearly a year later. Best investment of $8 I ever made.

Of course, what is camping without cooking?

Some meals, like the traditional hotdogs and hamburgers may be done over the fire, but most will require a stove. A camping stove. A Coleman, two-burner camping stove. They’ve been making those stoves since before you were born. Since before your grandfather was born. We had one that my wife accidentally ran over with the car.

(I know, it was my fault for sitting it out there.) It was smashed with a capital “S”. I simply took it and bent it back into a vague resemblance of its former self and we kept on using it. Not only for the remainder of that trip, but several more trips.

When I finally decided that it just looked too bad, we got a new one. But that beat up one was still working when we gave it away. For all I know it is still working to this day.

The main question about stoves, even Colemans, is what type of fuel it uses. If it has pressurized canisters of some kind (usually propane), then you must carry extra canisters with you. They can, and they will, run out of fuel at inopportune moments... like right in the middle of your gourmet Chinese stir-fry. For me and mine, call me old-school, we prefer the old standard, pump-up tank that can be refilled before you even start up that complex multi-burner meal. Many of the newer models are “dual fuel” and will even run on regular unleaded gas.

As for cooking on that stove, experience has shown that it is best to keep a set of cookware just for camping, separate from your home use items. They will get burned, melted, scratched, and stolen by raccoons. The ideal source for these may well be your neighborhood thrift store where you can pick up some pre-loved pots and pans and utensils for next to nothing. Then you won’t feel so bad when one of them you were rinsing in the river floats off into used-pan nirvana. I would not recommend the non-stick surfaces, however.

I occasionally scour my pans with a bit of sandy gravel down by the riverside. Works great. But not on teflon.

Another good-to-have item is a griddle.

However, you’ll probably not find that at the thrift store… you’ll have to hit the internet or a retail store for a good solid griddle. It has to fit on that stove of yours. Splurge for a cast iron one and you’ll be ever so happy. So, too, will your pancakes be. And your eggs and your bacon and your hash browns.

And finally, some odds and ends.

We never go camping without a big, filled water jug. The 5-gallon size will normally get us through a weekend without having to refill.

Then, if for some reason the water is out, you’re still good to go. It’s also more convenient to have it at your campsite. Fold-up camp chairs, goes without saying. Sitting on rocks and logs is for those hard-butted, back-packing purists with their sore feet. And lastly, make yourself a list of things you intend to take camping. Use it before you go and take it along with you. While you’re camping, you’ll think of things you maybe should have brought (like toilet paper), maybe would’ve liked to have brought (swimming suit), or are definitely po’d that you didn’t bring (bourbon). Add them to the list, and you’ll be better prepared next time.

Look at the campers around you and you’ll also get some wild ideas.

But mostly, relax and enjoy the fact that you are getting by quite nicely, thank you, without all that “stuff”. Leave the iPod and the cell phone in the car. Listen instead to the sound of the gurgling creek. Or is it babbling? Sit quietly and await the time when a butterfly alights upon your shoulder.

Truly, the simple life can be very, very good.

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Duke City Fit

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GRAND OPENING !

Heart & Sole Sports is opening a second store !

Heart & Sole Sports II Opening April 1, 2014

4301 Eubank NE • Just south of Montgomery Blvd

Join us every month for a 40-minute Fun Run/Walk.

Kit Carson Park with Snacks, Raffles, & Vendor Goodies.

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