Goeppinger Huette

Goeppinger Huette

Today the East German-Under-Communism-coach I am married to planned a long (over 12 miles) walk/run up, up up, to a hut called the Goeppinger Huette. He reckoned it would take us about three hours to get there, then lunch, then an hour run down to a place where we could take a bus home. We brought along the woman who runs the building here-a very fit woman in her early 50s who has been known to smoke cigarettes as she waits for me to catch up (no joke). She also has a new beau: a policeman in his 30s who looks like he is there to deliver a fake telegram at a bachelorette party; if you get my drift. Apparently he was part of a group of firemen and policemen who came to answer a fire alarm. My point is, she has her act together. My other point is don't be shy about calling for help at the sight of smoke. Can't be too careful...(And yes, ladies, easy; I will try to get a picture with him.)

So it was the usual misery, except this time we clambered over rocks that had a rather steep drop on the other side; but for once this did not bother me. Thomas told me he has been here with Elmar and ski group, and one guy got so freaked out (keep in mind they were in ski boots, carrying skis-terrifying), that he had to be helped.

It has been said by far better runners than I, that a long trek is a metaphor for life: a lot of misery interrupted by bursts of real joy. But in my heightened emotional state today, it seemed absurdly true. Just when you think you have life down, there comes some bullshit up hill portion that you do not want or need or enjoy. I slogged forward however, until directly below me was the blessed hut. The end of suffering, a soft place to hide for an hour, a dispensary of comfort without judgement (two desserts and a hot dog for lunch? hell yes!) And I ran to it like we used to run to each other at airports.

But I could not get there, because the road suddenly became so difficult to negotiate: huge boulders and slippery small ones, and I went from running and whooping with joy, to almost crawling. It was like seeing the object of your love and desire, but not being able to reach him. 
Loyal blog readers will know there is a point in every hike when I start to wallow in self pity or lash out at Thomas, depending on my mood. But here's the thing: I always simply take another step. Just like my friends with cancer or aids or the people in Gaza: I slog on. And this thought made me cry. Oh I know what you are thinking: for God's sake have a power bar! you are dehydrated. Don't cry. But sometimes, (as when ACB rode 200 miles on a bike), you are broken a bit open, and realizations come through: namely, that I am surrounded by people who are stronger than I am,  people who give me water and chocolate; people who are helping me get to the hut. It occurred to me how often I am treated so very gently in this life; even when I have nothing to offer in return.
And then I sniveled some more.

So the hut! the hut! I almost kissed the waitress. We got drinks and blankets and food. And then, because this blog aims to be uplifting, we got the greatest  gift! Here is the background: Lying on the benches in the sun were two middle aged women holding hands as they dozed. Unapologetic lesbians are not something you see often in the wilds of the Austrian alps. I wanted to give them the secret signal that I was from their planet; that I spoke their language: GREETINGS LESBIANS! I COME FROM THE PLANET SAN FRANCISCO! NANCY PELOSI IS A FAMILY FRIEND! FARE THEE WELL!!!
Then a bit later came a group of beautiful, hippy-ish, monster fit 20 somethings that were somehow connected to the lesbians.  Thomas is not often awed, but he was when he saw them, because he had seen them run (not walk) up a very steep hill that was not necessary to take to get to the hut. I cannot express how tough this must have been. They took our same walk, the one that reduced me to quiet tears, but they added a crushing extra run.
Then they start to stretch. ....(See photos). They were pretzels; they were a circus act; they were amaaaaazing. They were so amazing, that two 14 year olds from the next table came over to imitate them, to the guffaws of the assembled. We all: the lesbians, Thomas, the waitress, laughed and laughed at this scene. The 20 somethings were so blessedly fit, so strong, they had just run a long way in the mountains without any special equipment or water or clothing...they were beautiful and young and they just crushed this mountain. And then they did acrobatics for fun.
The lead one was this young woman who was everything I would have wanted in a daughter: strong and kind and brave, with a smile that lights you up if you are lucky enough to see it. After enduring the 14 year old's goofy imitations of her, she finally asked if they would like to learn. And they said  YES! you are our coach!
And so she taught them. Instead of shivering in her blanket (I guess the run didn't make her sweat), or gulping liquids, as I was; she patiently taught a bunch of cheeky kids yoga. And the rest of us were treated to the sweetest little moment, high up in the hills.

Ok enough mush. I am very worried about finishing 13.1 miles in the mountains. But maybe I'll manage..or maybe I won't. But I'll show up.

And a final note about running vs life: after lunch, we had a run downhill for an hour with soup and coffee in our bellys, fearlessness in our hearts....and I thought WOW! Life does suck sometimes...But then you get circus acts and wind in your hair! So the ending is great!!! I knew it!!! And then I kid you not, a few 100 meters before the blessed end, I run into a long stretch of mud. (see photo) gross, smelly mud that stopped me me in my tracks.
sigh. xxx

A postscript. One Amy R from San Francisco, CA is claiming to be a member of the Jeki Airstrip Running Club, without any intention of running anywhere near a lion or killing a crocodile.
Ignore her.

Sweaty becomes cold fast in the bergen

Thomas and Regina made me eat my sauerkraut. 

sniveling away...

Regina is smoking behind me,,,,

laughing at the kiddies....

mud

Euphoria pre mud.

The Hills are Alive...

Yesterday we dropped off Frederick in Hinter Tux; a town 2.5 hours from here, for his week-long racing camp.
 Here is the schedule: rise at six a.m.; get yelled at in Austrian dialect, do knee bends while your friends at home are with bikini clad girls bobbing in turquoise seas or at tennis camps, ski on a glacier  at 10,000 feet,  watch a video review of skiing; attend a group meeting in which you are reminded not to visit any bars or the girls' section, go to bed at 9 pm sharp.
Frederick is delighted.
 "We might get TWO roommates!" "The hotel is four stars! "(Losing a star is great news to a kid: more candy in the lobby. )

We dropped him off at his hotel which is named the Bad Hotel. The cracked him up: Bad means Bath in German, and in this case refers to the hot spring pool here. His room is a double, but the bed looks a lot like a very large single. So for his first sleep away camp, there are no marshmallows or dances or ghost stories; just exercise and sharing a bed with a stranger (we found out only later that he got an 11 year old Austrian as a room mate-good news).

Arrival in lech was great; we love it so. Of course Instagram photos from the south of France look tempting.. with all that sun and those attractive people; but there is something so insanely relaxing about this much exercise. The mind is finally, mercifully, quiet.

Dinner with Schneiders last night (see below) lemon risotto; lentils; salads: all very Thomas worthy. We were in the pleasant company of Gerald The Gay Guy from Zug (GGG). He and I are going to organize the first gay pride parade of Zug, the next town over (think lech but smaller). He thinks there are only two gay residents..so even with me as the grande poobah waving from a float, and Elmar's cows behind, we should be able to wrap it up in under a half hour. GGG asked if I thought a rubber suit was too much for a Zug (poplulation 150) gay pride parade.
I said what any fourth generation San Francisco girl would say, namely:
"If you don't wear one, I will honey. "

Today Thomas started my half marathon training in earnest...horrible. I woke up in the night and thought, maybe I should take a melatonin...(a trick I use at altitude sometimes). Trouble is, it was already almost 5 am..so at 7 when I woke for real..I was a mess. Thomas brought coffee after coffee, pouring the sacred brew into my eyeballs; but it was as if I was in a dream. No matter: the show must go on. Before we left, he warned me that the point of the exercise would be pain. He is of the opinion  that my heart is in shape, but my mind is weak; uncommitted to the cause of leaping around mountains at break neck speed. To this I plead guilty. Also unrepentant. I mean..why? what's the rush?
But I did what I was told; and believe me I was not happy. Thomas thought my heart rate should be at 160, but I could not get it there. This is good news/bad news. It means exactly what he thought: I can't get the body to stress itself; at least not while stoned on melatonin.
We hiked for a very fast (my fastest ever, at any age) 2.5-3 hours; and were both walking funny upon our return. After a long stretch and shower, we indulged in a fat Austrian lunch on the terrace; and then I took a nap-the kind that is so deep, you don't know if you have slept or not. Heaven.

Frederick called and offered cryptic monosyllabic answers to my questions; then said he had to go play cards in the 40 minutes of free time they get a day.
Tomorrow dinner with the great Frau S; more walking; more napping; more sun, more rain.

Lech as seen from Ober Lech; on the top of the mountain is a shiny cross T and I have walked to

Beuetzen See from today. We ski over it in winter

Boys in down town Hinter Tux

Glacier at Hinter Tux