Ten Years of Operation Life

Ten years ago today, on April 26, 2010, I took the first steps on a journey – a journey toward improved health, improved energy levels, better fitness, and a whole host of other benefits that I hadn’t anticipated. This journey is called Operation Life.

The first stirrings of Operation Life can actually be traced to a few weeks before, on April 5, 2010, when I realized I wasn’t as healthy as I thought I was. I had found myself in a bit of a rut since graduating from college the year before, and I was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with certain aspects of life. That led to me being grouchy, perpetually tired, and generally lethargic – and I kind of tried to self-medicate with food. It didn’t work, and, in fact, it likely made things worse, contributing to my downward spiral.

But on April 5, the rubber hit the road and I realized I needed to change something about the way I was living. My family was planning an incredible trip to South Dakota that summer, and I knew I wanted to get in great shape so I could make the most of the experience – lots of hiking, climbing, exploring, you name it.

Three weeks later, I started taking tangible steps toward this goal as part of an effort dubbed Operation South Dakota. My mom decided to join me, and it was so helpful to have accountability. I started eating more fruits and veggies. I walked past the bags of chips on top of the fridge when I got home from work. I exercised more regularly and more intentionally. My first official workout to prepare for the South Dakota trip was a weightlifting session using dumbbells I already owned. I don’t remember what the routine was, but it was probably something weird I created on my own with no idea what I was doing (sorry, Dad).

As time progressed and the trip grew closer, I was loving how much better I felt – stronger, more rested, happier, more fit. Mom and I decided that Operation South Dakota should be renamed Operation Life, because we were not going to stop our efforts or scale them back once the trip was behind us. No, our new way of approaching life was going to stick with us.

The sis and yours truly exploring the Badlands

Family hike near Sylvan Lake

And it did. I loved working out and eating in ways that fueled my body to be its best.

As I ramped up my veggie intake, I expanded my horizons by discovering a world of strange but healthy recipes.

Some of them were surprisingly good. Take raw lasagna, for example. Completely vegan, right down to the “ricotta cheese” that was actually made from macadamia nuts and pine nuts. It was very tasty, but I only made it once because it was EXPENSIVE. Another surprise was a kale juice recipe; sounds gross but ended up being very tasty!

Then there were the recipes that were expectedly good: smoothies and three-ingredient cookies, for example. I haven’t made those cookies in a while. Maybe I will soon – perhaps today?

Tasty three-ingredient cookies!

And, of course, there were a few duds. Mom and I tried a recipe for “Sweet and Spicy Arugula Saute” that left our eyes watering. But my least-favorite was a dairy-free lemon cauliflower pudding. It was the most horrible thing, and I still laugh when I recall naive Krista thinking that this would somehow be good!

Outside of the kitchen, I focused on my fitness. I’m a firm believer that exercise shouldn’t be something you strongly dislike. If running isn’t your thing, for example, don’t make yourself run. Instead, do something you enjoy. And I can honestly say that I enjoyed my workouts, everything from lifting weights to riding the exercise bike to shooting baskets and incorporating some sprinting games.

Mom and I also did a lot of walking. We’d walk 2 miles from home to Lancaster Central Market, buy a bunch of produce, and carry it all home. Yes, sometimes this meant that we each were toting a melon of some sort. It was all just fun.

I didn’t set out to be a runner.

This goes back to my philosophy that people should enjoy exercise. And I did not enjoy running. At all. Whenever I saw a friend running at college, I’d be like, “Why?!” After college I watched a friend finish a half marathon and sincerely wondered what in the world would ever possess anyone to run that far. So I was strongly anti-running.

But after consistently taking walks for months, I started to think, What if I move faster? And after doing my sprinting games during my basketball workouts, I began to wonder, How many laps around this court is a mile? The answer was 20 – well, 20 laps was 1.1 miles. Before I knew it, I was starting each basketball session with 20 laps and then moving on to my regular workout. I timed myself, watching myself complete 1.1 miles in 12 minutes, then 11, then 10, then 9-something. EXCITING!

I also started running with friends here and there. I woke up early to run at the beach on vacation. Mom and I signed up for our first 5K (Sept. 17, 2011), and I won third in my age category. Inspired, I kept signing up for 5Ks.

First 5K!

After a few months of that, my friend Candace asked me if I’d be interested in running the 2012 Pittsburgh Half Marathon with her. In my head, I immediately thought, NO WAY! But then I thought about it a little more and was like, “Hey, why not?”

In a very short amount of time, I went from being appalled that anyone would want to run 13.1 miles to realizing why they do. After the Pittsburgh Half, I was hooked.

I blame Candace for getting me hooked on half marathons. Yes, definitely Candace’s fault.

I ran four half marathons before I decided to tackle an even bigger challenge, one I had promised myself I’d never do: a full marathon. (Haha, I accidentally typed “fun” instead of “full” just now. And “fun” it was NOT!) My first marathon was in 2015, and it was without a doubt the toughest thing I’ve ever done. It didn’t go as planned, but I learned a lot and returned the following year to try again, with more success.

2015 (left), where I walked a lot, vs. 2016 (right), where I ran the whole thing!

I’ve even completed a handful of obstacle races, from national ones like Warrior Dash (may it rest in peace) to local ones like the Acre Breaker. Now those actually are fun. Not fun to clean up after, but hey, cross that bridge when you come to it.

Summoning my inner Air Jordan, 2014

I love this shot of my sis and me at our first Warrior Dash! (This was the coldest late-August day EVER, I’m pretty sure.)

And, of course, there’s hiking. I’ve been on many backpacking and camping trips. I’ve hiked Pikes Peak. I’ve summited Mount Washington (twice), along with numerous other peaks in New Hampshire and the Adirondacks, as part of yearly winter mountaineering adventures. I never would have dreamed of doing these things, but the path of Operation Life led me to a place where they were and are possible.

Mountaineering crew on Franconia Ridge (I’m on the far right in the green jacket)

Ten years after Operation Life began, it’s fun to look back at it all. This is such a far cry from where the journey started! From sporadic weightlifting, basketball, and walking to half marathons, marathons, obstacle races, and mountaineering?!

All this reminiscing has challenged me too, because I’ve noticed myself coming full circle lately…and not necessarily in a good way. You see, I’m not as healthy or fit as I’d like to be at the moment. I’ve slipped into some not-so-great food habits, due to convenience or general disappointment with things, and I need to snap out of it! I’ve also scaled back on my exercise because I sometimes feel (or think I feel) too tired at the end of the workday. Sound familiar? Sounds like me a decade ago!

What better time to start getting back on track with renewed focus and intention than on the 10-year anniversary of the launch of Operation Life? Let’s do this.

I had no idea where Operation Life would take me, but I’m so grateful for this journey. And I’m so grateful for wherever it leads me next.

The Great Toenail Saga of 2017

Instigated by mountaineering. Exacerbated by running.

Be warned: This tale is not for the faint of heart. There are quite a few gross toe pictures (with blood) ahead!

Someone once asked me if I would ever get a pedicure, and I just cringed. Sure, my feet aren’t horrific, but I would feel a bit awkward making someone try to beautify them. My feet were especially bad in 2017. I lost four or five toenails over the summer and fall months, but one was especially memorable because my trials with it spanned most of the year.

Let’s welcome today’s guest of honor, Big Toe Right Foot (BTRF).

BTRF in happier times

The toenail and some of its neighbors, including Everest Toe Left Foot (I know it’s called Morton’s Toe when the second toe is taller than the others, but I like Everest Toe better), were on the receiving end of some outdoors action during my mountaineering trip in March 2017. For some reason, my boots and my feet were not getting along toward the end of the trip, and the result was some multicolored toenails, along with some other flaws. Fun!

So pretty!

I kind of expected those two toenails to fall off within a few weeks, especially as I began training in earnest for a half marathon that spring. But they lingered, and they looked cooler and cooler. The discolored area on BTRF, which had been close to the bed of the nail (see above), maneuvered higher and higher up as the nail grew. But the nail areas on BTRF and the Everest Toe didn’t hurt. Eventually, the Everest Toe’s nail fell off when I was on a mission trip in Belize over the summer. One down, one to go.

In late August, I started noticing that BTRF’s nail was superficially cracking horizontally. But, again, it didn’t hurt, so I let it go and figured it would work itself out.

Which it did, come September. By cracking the whole way down through the nail, even though the horizontal crack only went part of the way across the nail. Like so:

No comment.

Somehow, this thing was still not causing me pain, so I took my normal “ignore it and it’ll go away” approach, figuring it would be easier to let the broken nail grow out than try to remove it since part of it was still attached. Also, I had a bunch of athletic events coming up, and I didn’t want my training to be affected by an injured toe should something go wrong when I removed the nail. So I trained for and ran my eighth half marathon. I did some 5Ks. I prepared myself for the Acre Breaker, a 4-ish-mile mud run with approximately 20 obstacles. Good ol’ BTRF hung in there like a champ.

The Acre Breaker took place on a late October morning, on the same day as an evening masquerade gala to benefit an organization I’m involved with, Ryan’s Birthday Party Foundation. Things were going fine at the Acre Breaker until I exited the third obstacle, at which point I noticed that BTRF wasn’t happy. “I’m going to have to do something about that toenail ASAP,” I thought, running to the next obstacle. BTRF throbbed more noticeably as the race progressed.

I wasn’t able to deal with BTRF’s needs before the masquerade gala – making myself look presentable-ish for the gala after being coated in mud at the Acre Breaker took a while and I didn’t have time – so I decided to just grin and bear it.

But by the time I got out of the car at the gala, BTRF was throbbing like crazy and was actually painful. My chosen footwear (heels) didn’t help, either. I’m super awkward walking in heels anyway (despite lessons from my sister), and walking in heels with an unhappy big toe increased the difficulty level exponentially. When I was seated, I would slip off my right shoe to appease BTRF. When I was standing, I’d try to position my foot to take the pressure off BTRF. And when I was walking, BTRF screamed at me.

So the next morning, I took nail clippers to BTRF and ended up with this:

Mud from the Acre Breaker was still wedged into my toenail somehow…

The original crack was about halfway up the nail (see above). I believe BTRF had been hurting so much because the attached part of the nail was still growing UNDERNEATH the cracked part (see the little bit of “new” nail above the original crack on the left side?), so there was some sort of weird double nail situation going on.

With that strangeness solved, BTRF was happy. I was happy. Everyone was happy, and I thought that we would live happily ever after.

And we did…for a few weeks. In early December, my sister and I were working on a photo project. For part of it, I had to set up a camera and quickly kneel down on a bedsheet. As I did that, BTRF caught on the sheet and I heard a *rip*. No, not the sheet. The top right part of BTRF was starting to tear off. (Yes, there was a bit of blood.)

MINOR TOE BLOOD BELOW:

Poor BTRF.

But after BTRF was cleaned up, all seemed fine.

A few days later, I (an assistant basketball coach) was helping my girls warm up before a game by providing some light defense during their layup drill. I jumped to fake block a layup and felt BTRF’s toenail catch on the inside of my shoe. I stopped jumping after that, and I bandaged BTRF up for a few days to prevent further such experiences.

All dressed up and nowhere to go!

Not long after that, I finally decided to remove the rest of the troublesome part of the toenail. The writing was obviously on the wall, and I had no major athletic events coming up to interfere with its removal. And so I did it, and it wasn’t pretty (that’s code for “DON’T LOOK IF YOU’RE SQUEAMISH, BECAUSE THERE’S BLOOD AND JUST GENERAL NASTINESS”):

The end of an era.

 

Fast forward a few months. BTRF and I are happily coexisting. The nail has been growing back in nicely, and it survived another mountaineering trip earlier this month. Way to rebound, BTRF!

BTRF is just about all better!

Now…which toenail will be next to bite the dust? Whichever one it is, I’m hoping it’s a much less dramatic experience.

Any guesses on the next nail to bite the dust?

And Now for Something Completely Different: Week 9 in the ADK!

Since Dec. 29, 2014, a decent portion of my life has revolved around running. Such is the price of marathon training! There was one week, though, that I ran zero miles. 0. ZERO.

That’s right. My Week 9 training abandoned the Hal Higdon plan in favor of something different: mountaineering.

This was my fourth year going on a mountaineering trip. In 2012, a group of friends and I went to the Adirondacks, followed by two years mountaineering in New Hampshire. This year, we returned to the ADK. Even though the group members and the peaks we hike vary somewhat from year to year, there are a few things we can always count on: that there will be fun times, great memories made, and awesome time spent in God’s creation.

The trip was Feb. 25 to March 1, which included two days of travel, two days of mountaineering, and one day of ice climbing (or, in my case, watching people ice climb). Feb. 25 was obviously our travel day. Matt, Aaron, Bekah, and I rode up in one car, and Bill, Terri, and Evan drove up in another (Brandon drove up by himself the next day). We had rented a cabin from Random Scoots in Keene, N.Y.; we arrived in very good time and dropped our stuff off. It was the same cabin we’d stayed in three years ago, so it was just like coming home!

With an entire evening ahead of us, we drove to Lake Placid and walked around a little bit before heading back to Keene and grabbing dinner at the ADK Cafe. The food there is unbelievably amazing. I have been waiting for three years to eat here again, and it didn’t disappoint. SO GOOD!

I love you, ADK Burger.

After filling up on all sorts of delicious food from the ADK Cafe, we headed back to the cabin and those of us who were planning to go mountaineering the next day got prepared for the hike: Algonquin. Then we went to bed. Bekah and I shared a room, which was freezing! With a bunch of layers, we survived. 🙂 (It turns out that our thermostat was broken, but we did get it fixed. Yay!)

Day 1: Algonquin (5,114 ft.) and Wright Peak (4,580 ft.)

I was pretty excited for this hike, to be honest. We had done it in 2012, and I’d had a blast. In all, it was about an 8-mile trek.

The weather was just about perfect. Temperatures were supposed to be a high of 2 degrees (not a typo!), but when you’re moving along, you don’t even realize how cold it is. Since it was a weekday, there was only one other car in the parking lot at the trailhead. Thankfully, though, the trail was well broken, so we didn’t have to spend extra energy plowing through deep snow.

Trekking along

Looking straight up offered a really cool perspective.

Evan and Aaron double-checking the map

One thing I love about this hike is how the views take you by surprise. The trail steadily climbs upward but is wooded, so you’re not thinking about how high you’re climbing. Then, you get to a partial clearing and look behind you, and – BAM! – beautiful views!

Check it out!

At one point, the trail to Wright Peak (which wasn’t part of our plans for the day) split off from the trail to Algonquin. Since it was only 0.4 miles to the summit of Wright Peak, we decided to give it a go, especially since it offered a stunning view of Algonquin. Not knowing what the terrain would be like, we left our snowshoes on. That was fine for most of the trek, but above treeline there were a lot of rocks and not a whole lot of snow, so we would have been better off up there with crampons*. We took it slow and steady, and it was worth doing, in my opinion. So beautiful!

*Crampons are not what they sound like! They are these spikey things that you attach to your boots so you can walk on ice.

Standing on Wright Peak with Algonquin in the background

The rocks on Wright Peak

Once we returned to our Wright-Algonquin crossroads, we resumed the Quest for Algonquin. It wasn’t far (although we weren’t sure exactly how far because that part of the sign had been broken off), but it was steep. At a certain point, Evan decided to layer up and wait for us to summit and come back. We handed out radios in case anything would go wrong on either end (nothing did) and continued our trek, chatting with Evan on the radio every now and then.

We climbed quickly. It wasn’t long before we went from being below Wright Peak to level with it to wa-a-ay above it. When we got above treeline, I was fully expecting to have to put my balaclava and goggles on, but there was no wind! So we got to see the world from 5,114 feet up untainted by goggles.

Bekah, yours truly, and Aaron making the final push to the summit

It was a beautiful day. We hung out a little bit (not too long, because we didn’t want Evan to get too cold waiting for us), snapped some shots, and enjoyed the view before heading back down.

My traditional summit pose

Group shot! (I’m not going to post the unsuccessful one, even though it’s hilarious.)

Aside from a few breaks to eat or adjust our layers/packs, we absolutely booked it on the 4-ish-mile trip back to the trailhead. It’s hard not to go fast when you’re going downhill for that long! Thank you, gravity…

Thankful for such a great day, we headed back to the cabin, where Bill and Terri were preparing lasagna for us. Delish! We told stories about the day, looked at pictures, got ready for ice climbing the next day, and waited for Brandon to arrive (which he did, and not too late in the night, either!).

Day 2: Ice Climbing and Lake Placid

The day started off the best possible way: with breakfast at the ADK Cafe! I got French toast (which, again, I had been dreaming about for the last three years). SO GOOD!

Bekah and I love you, French toast.

Then Bill, Matt, Evan, and Aaron headed out to Pitchoff Walls set up the ropes and stuff for ice climbing (it takes a little while), and Bekah, Brandon, Terri, and I hung out at the cabin for a little while to give the first group time to get everything set up.

When the four of us arrived at Pitchoff Walls, Terri stayed in the car and the other three of us hiked up a wooded hill along the side of the road to the site of the ice climbing location. The weather, again, was perfect. The trees blocked most of the wind, and the sun was out, making everything warm. Since I don’t ice climb (I tried it twice and am fine with that), I usually end up putting my down jacket on because I get cold. It was so nice out that I didn’t end up wearing my down jacket at all!

Even though I don’t enjoy actually ice climbing, it is always fun watching everyone else. It does look cool; it’s just not for me.

I want to say that this is Matt and Brandon.

There’s Bill, showing everyone how it’s done!

I think this is Evan.

It’s Aaron!

After a few hours of ice climbing, we packed it in. While Matt, Aaron, and Bill undid all the roping (there’s probably a better term for that), the rest of us headed back to the vehicles, which were parked next to a frozen lake. We couldn’t resist taking a little walk…

Brandon, Evan, Bekah, and I on the frozen lake

You know, just doing some planks on the lake…

When all was said and done, we all headed to Lake Placid for a bit. We walked around, shopped, and got coffee before driving back to the cabin for dinner.

On a cold evening, it only makes sense to get warm beverages, like Brandon, Matt, and Bekah did. Oh, but Bill got ice cream.

Over dinner of lasagna and tacos, we discussed our plans for the following day. One idea was to hike Mount Marcy, the highest of the 46 peaks in the ADK (this would be a 14-mile hike). Another idea was to do a shorter hike. Since Brandon hadn’t gotten to try Algonquin (the second-highest peak), he was all game to try Marcy. So, after a bit of discussion, that’s what we decided to do. Matt, Aaron, Brandon, Bekah, and I would tackle Marcy, while Bill and Evan would try out a different trail and also walk around Heart Lake with Terri.

Day 3: Mount Marcy

I was looking forward to this hike, even though I knew it would be somewhat tough. We’d been told that it was a long, gradual uphill, and I felt I could handle that as long as it wasn’t super steep.

The weather was absolutely beautiful…and warm (relatively). It was a Saturday, so the trails were fairly full. We made really good time for the first few miles, so despite the fact that we got a later start than we’d wanted to, I still felt OK about how things were going. Once we reached Marcy Dam (about 2 miles along), we stopped at a lean-to for a quick food break and ended up chatting with two older guys who have been mountaineering for decades. It’s always fun to talk with other people on the trail.

Shortly after our lunch stop, the trail started to go up. It was a gradual uphill at first, which was fine. But then it got steep. And it stayed steep. For some reason, I really started to struggle. I don’t know if I hadn’t fueled properly or if I was still tired from the Algonquin hike, but I guess the reason doesn’t really matter. I was just gassed!

I remember the trail pretty much like this: Gradual uphill for a while, then very steep uphill for a long time. Then more gradual uphill followed by a never-ending very steep uphill. Then a brief flat area with maybe a short, slight downhill. And then more gradual uphill…and then a long section of a steep uphill. Here’s pretty much how it was:

“I’m not enjoying this right now, but I hope I will at the summit.”

I can’t even begin to say how many times I was so close I was to quitting. But for some reason, I didn’t. I prayed a lot. I kept putting one foot in front of the other – albeit slowly – and I tried to change my internal messages to myself from “You can’t do this!” to “You can do this, and you are going to!”

It wasn’t easy for me, but I made it to the summit. And it was worth it, of course.

Unlike Algonquin this year, it was pretty windy and cold on the summit, so we donned our balaclavas and goggles and spent a little bit of time at the highest point in the ADK.

Worth the pain!!!!

Bekah and yours truly

Bekah, Matt, and I

Brandon, Matt, and Aaron

Group shot! (I had always made fun of selfie poles before this. I still think that they’re unnecessary unless you’re on a really windy mountain and need to get a group picture.)

We all loved it on the summit (other than being cold, of course). It didn’t matter if it was a first summit (Brandon) or a millionth summit (Matt) or somewhere in between; we all took in the views for as long as we could.

That wasn’t very long, though, because it was later in the day than we had planned and we still had 7 miles between us and the car. So we said goodbye to the summit and headed downward.

Ciao, Marcy!

Not surprisingly, the way back was a lot faster. Thank you, gravity! I was in a much better mood and was able to take in my surroundings a lot more fully. God’s creation is really beautiful when you stop and look at it. I’m not just talking about the Adirondacks; I’m talking about wherever you live. Stop and look! I’m sure you’ll find something absolutely gorgeous – or at least something neat – in creation.

At one point, we were trekking along, and Matt estimated that if we made good time, we’d make it back to Marcy Dam by 6:30 p.m. Well, we got there a lot earlier than that (I forget the exact time, but it was 5-something). Excellent! While we were there, we bumped into two women we’d met at the summit, and we talked to them for a little bit. Total God moment for sure!

Brandon, yours truly, Matt, Bekah, and Aaron at Marcy Dam

We said goodbye to our new friends and began the 2-mile trek to the car. At this point, some of us were well aware that our feet were really starting to hurt. Like, blister hurt. I had put duct tape on my feet in the morning to prevent blisters, but there’s only so much that can do. Because we were on the homestretch of the hike, though, we pressed on! Soon it got dark enough that we needed headlamps, so we put them on and hiked the last mile or so with them. It’s not a true mountaineering trip until the headlamps are used!

Our last mile seemed to take forever, and I think we were all glad to see the trailhead. Exhausted but fulfilled, we hoisted our gear into the back of the car and drove toward the cabin. What a great (tough, rewarding, beautiful) day!

At the cabin, we got cleaned up and enjoyed tacos while watching a few movies and beginning to get packed up for our return journey to Pennsylvania the next day. While we were all sad that the trip was over for another year, Matt and I had one more adventure left.

Day 4: Olympic Bobsled Experience

Months ago, Matt had asked if anyone would be interested in trying the Olympic Bobsled Experience in Lake Placid. Yes, it’s like it sounds: You get in a real bobsled, with a real driver and brakeman, on the real Olympic course (well, a half mile of it), and enjoy the ride! I said I’d be game; I mean, how could I pass that up?

It turns out that Matt and I were the only ones who wanted to try it. So on Sunday morning, after everyone packed up their stuff and left the cabin, we headed to the Olympic Sports Complex. Because our group had three vehicles, some of our crew started the journey home. Aaron and Bekah came along with Matt and me to cheer us on as we flew down the track.

After signing a waiver, Matt and I were transported to the starting point of our ride. We were fitted with helmets and given a bit of detail about the ride itself (it’s a half mile long, it reaches speeds of up to 55 mph, etc.). I was pretty excited, and I felt completely safe in the hands of our driver and brakeman!

Ready for our Olympic Bobsled Experience

Pretending to be scared (but in reality I wasn’t scared at all)

Our job was simple: We had to sit in the bobsled and enjoy the ride while the two experienced guys did all the work. No problemo!

Once we were given the go signal, our brakeman gave us a push, and we were off! At first, we didn’t go too fast, but soon we really started picking up speed and whipping around the turns. We were really flying, and it was awesome!

Bekah got this shot of us flying down the track. So cool!

Matt wore his GoPro, and the footage is amazing! Check it out here.

All too soon, it was over. We both loved it and wanted to go again immediately! Obviously, we couldn’t, as we had a long drive ahead of us. But we definitely plan to go again when we’re back in the Adirondacks!

Totally pumped from our bobsled experience, we stopped at the ADK Cafe for one last burger before we hit the road. I love that cafe. Have I mentioned that before?

We hit a snowstorm on our way home, so the journey took longer than we planned. But we made it home safe and sound…and full of some incredible stories and memories.

Until next time, Adirondacks. It’s been fun.