In late July, Cat and I attempted to hike Mt. Healy via Bison Gulch, just south of Healy, Alaska. It gets added to the list of failed attempts on my list for 2020. This just isn’t a good year.
This year has been kicking my butt. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve had to come to terms with not being able to complete a hike because my body simply can’t do it. I can only remember a few times in my life where I bailed on a hike. Once because another party member was seriously ill. I’ve had a few others where the weather of other outside factors made it impossible to continue safely. But, it’s never been because I physically can’t. Only now as I’m writing this in late August am I starting to accept this. I’ve had some depressingly frustrating moments over the last few months.
Part of the problem is the “mystery” illness I had in April, where I could barely get out of bed for a little over two weeks. I went well over a month before I could walk down to the end of the driveway and back. I suffered from a persistent cough and had great trouble breathing (later I tested negative for COVID-19 antibodies). I lost a lot of muscle mass in that time and gained a fair amount of weight. It wasn’t until June that I could really do anything that resembled exercise.
The sickness was compounded by the litany of medications I’ve been trying over the past 8 months in an attempt to get my blood pressure under control. Right before I fell ill I had an increased dosage on one (a beta-blocker called Metoprolol). About a month later I started having really intense heart palpitations. That led me to a cardiologist’s office where I had to wear a monitor for a while and get an ultrasound and have a stress test done for my heart. The conclusion was my heart was fine, despite the palpitations fluid build-up in my legs, and the inability to exercise anywhere near the levels I could earlier in the year.
The heart palpitations seemed to increase right around the time I was due to take my Metoprolol, so we figured maybe the drug was running low on my body and causing my heart to skip its beat. Since the drug seemed to be also be causing some weight gain, and definitely fluid build-up, I decided I wanted to try reducing the dosage.
My doctor agreed, and we cut the dosage in half. Immediately I had more energy, lost a few pounds, and the swelling in my legs and feet came down. I was excited to start trying to increase my exercise levels.
So clearly, my first thought is, “let’s go climb Mt. Healy.” In my mind I graduated from being able to walk down the road being able to do a 9-mile hike with well over 4,000 feet of climbing in the first 3 miles. I was so completely wrong. I completely understand that I was super eager to get out, and hopefully start making up for lost time. Part of it is muscle memory, I was perfectly capable of this 6 or 7 months ago. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that recovery is going to be slow.
Well, we tried. This hike is incredibly steep. Steep and persistent. And the wind was incredible; it must have been blowing steadily at 40-50 mph, with faster gusts.
The trail levels off slightly after 1.5 miles, the steep sections getting steeper higher up, but for shorter stretches. The wind abated somewhat. Time was becoming a concern as we had to get home to rescue the dog in a few hours.
I was “feeling the burn”. My legs were tired and incredibly weak, I was starting to wobble a bit. A little over three miles (and 4020 ft. of elevation gain), we were on the last shelf before the summit climb. I felt like I may be able to make it, but was also very aware it was going to take me more than an hour to hike the last mile. This was definitely my turn-around spot. As it turned out, I may not have made it if I had tried.
After descending a very steep talus slope, we were back on the trail. I noticed early on that I was needing to pause every quarter of a mile or so on the descent to rest my quads. As we continued, the intervals between rests were getting shorter and I took longer to recover. About 1.5 miles from the car, the fatigue turned into pain. Every step my quad muscles stung and my knees wanted to buckle. I thought I might fall, not from losing my balance, but from my legs buckling.
One mile from the parking lot, a marmot came out to sunbathe. This was the perfect excuse for me to sit down for a bit and get my telephoto lens out. I spent about 10 more minutes watching him and taking photos than I normally would have.
Muscle recovery after the rest was short-lived. The pain turned back on quickly, and every step was excruciating. I regretted not using my trekking poles from the start, rather than just on the downhill. Less than a mile from the car and I was questioning whether or not I could finish.
I was taking short, slow steps, pausing to rest about every 50 feet. It’s not often that my uphill speed outpaces my descent speed. I remember that in the last quarter-mile, my head started getting wacky, even wanting to stop and sit in the mud as I’m staring at the roadway just a little ways through the alders. I managed to fight the urge to give up, less than 300 yards from the parking area.
After the drive home, I had the daunting task of walking up the seven steps to the front door of our house. The next two days were fairly miserable, especially if I found myself on any kind of a slope. I think it was about six days before I felt recovered from this hike. I’m sure that even at my best, I would have been a little sore for the next day or two, after all, it is a challenging hike. But, I don’t think I’ve ever taken a week to recover from physical activity. It put a damper on my running training.