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Refraction Action

Jason and I have done the dirty several times but we’d never transformed ourselves into speeding human rainbows…until now. We thought we could use a few more shades of awesome in our lives so we signed up for Color Me Rad along with my brother Drew, his wife Simone and our friend Abigail. Color Me Rad, a 5K with color bombing stations, is one part athleticism and two parts nonsensical dye dumping. As it turns out, plastering yourself with pigment under the guise of exercise is pretty rad.

Jason didn't keep up his usual quick race pace but slowed down to blitz all of us frequently with his many bags of colored powder.
Jason didn’t keep up his usual quick race pace but slowed down to blitz all of us frequently with his many bags of colored powder.
Our group, Refraction Action, didn't hurry too fast to the finish line but relished cavorting in the clouds of color.
Our group, Refraction Action, didn’t hurry too fast to the finish line but relished cavorting in the clouds of color.
By the end, Drew looked like what would happen if Crayola started making crayons in a TNT factory.
By the end, Drew looked like what would happen if Crayola started making crayons in a TNT factory.

Color Me Rad, for the most part, proceeds like any other race except periodically a giant cloud of purple or orange appears in front of you and you quickly find yourself in a swirling monochromatic haze. Although most of the participants run through these dye mists without covering their noses or mouths, our group decided to wear bandanas through the fog so we could breathe a little easier. Gulping fluorescent dust just isn’t as refreshing as gulping fluorescent Gatorade even if they contain the same FD&C. Despite our precautions, I still woke up a few times the following night coughing like crazy but I’m sure I spared myself some extra wheezing by donning that unstylish handkerchief.

Yes, I wore a shower cap. My hairdresser informed me that dyes like these + blonde hair = not blonde hair so I wasn't taking any chances.
Yes, I wore a shower cap. My hairdresser informed me that dyes like these + blonde hair = not blonde hair so I wasn’t taking any chances.
Just one of Jason's naughty acts during the race.
Just one of Jason’s many naughty acts during the race.

After our scamper for color and follow-up attempt to pound ourselves back into pallidness, we stopped at our favorite waffle spot, Bruges, for some waffles and frites. Although the strange looks we got from some of the other patrons may have suggested otherwise, frites do taste just as good when eaten with neon fingers.

The colors flying around at the stations made the whole world seem bizarrely tinted.
The colors flying around at the stations made the whole world seem bizarrely tinted.
We stuck around after the race for a color toss ensuring that our multihues multiplied.
We stuck around after the race for a color toss ensuring that our multihues multiplied.
Although Color Me Rad wasn't an energy sucker like the Dirty Dash, it definitely left its mark.
Although Color Me Rad wasn’t an energy sucker like The Dirty Dash, it definitely left its mark.

Color Me Rad was a lot of fun and a lot of messy. But dye, oddly enough, is considerably easier to clean off than dirt. (Apparently, I have a lot of experience coating myself in all sorts of tenacious goo.) Sure, we had purple sweat circles covering our inner elbows that were none too eager to be removed and we were the proud owners of vibrant boogers for a few days but, all things considered, we tidied up pretty nicely. Yes, we colored it rad and rad wasn’t half bad.

Rachel July 9, 2013 No Comments

The Mucky Brewsters

This year Jason and I participated in the Dirty Dash again for the third time in a row. Although our companions on this run change every year along with the weather’s temperament, the outcome never does. We consistently end up goopier than a sick toddler’s diaper after trudging through stinky streams, sludgy pools and slippery hillsides but getting gross is more fun than you’d imagine. You’ve always wanted a mud-stache haven’t you?

Our costumes did not convey the punkiness that they were meant to. I looked more like a circus biker than an orphan misfit.
Our costumes did not convey the punkiness that they were meant to. I looked more like a circus biker than an orphan misfit.

Our team this year, originally comprised of Jason and me and our friends Adam and Abigail, picked up a straggler from a different group signup gone awry, my buddy David. He was asked to join a team of six that ended up being five short. Luckily, David had us as a backup and we’ll take anybody. We designated ourselves The Mucky Brewsters and attempted (unsuccessfully) to dress accordingly. If you’re too young to understand our clever pun then you missed out on some quality 80s entertainment.

The Pig House was teeming with suds but, oddly, those bubbles only made you feel slimier.
The Pig House was teeming with suds but, oddly, those bubbles only made you feel slimier.

Unlike last year, our early starting slot did not result in near hypothermia this time. The temperatures were perfect that morning for a hop in the slop. We were warm enough that we didn’t freeze while swimming through vats of muddy goo but cold enough we didn’t crack like the grime on our skin between obstacles.

I lost momentum in the middle of my chute dive but that didn't stop my giggles from descending.
I lost momentum in the middle of my chute dive but that didn’t stop my giggles from descending.
Jason flew down the Slop n slide too quickly to finish gracefully.
Jason flew down the Slop ‘n slide too quickly to finish gracefully.

While the Dirty Dash is a run, “running” is perhaps not the best description for what we did along its route. Adam admittedly loathes exercise and plans on avoiding it for the rest of his life if at all possible. And David, while always very concerned about the size of his muscles, often neglects to remember the size of his puny heart. So yes, we had a few cardiovascular difficulties during our sullied trek. However, although the reluctance of some of our racers necessitated a lot more walking through this course than usual, everyone completed the 10K. (Adam’s exercise-induced catatonic state made tricking him into missing the 5K shortcut easier.)

David screamed the whole way down the Slop'n Slide. He was going a little faster than his bare arms could handle.
David screamed the whole way down the Slop ‘n Slide. He was going a little faster than his bare arms could handle.
Adam had a big blob of much stuck to his teeth for most of the race but he was too exhausted to notice.
Adam had a big blob of muck stuck to his teeth for most of the race but he was too exhausted to notice.

I’ll admit though that David did come in handy on a few occasions despite his aerobic insufficiencies. As we all know, I have the upper body strength of a gerbil so I’m sure that some of the race barriers that involved the mandatory use of arm muscles would have resulted in catastrophe and humiliation for me had both Jason and David not been around to act as my saviors. For instance, I completely slipped at the apex of one wooden wall that was about 15 feet high and I’m not too much of a stalwart feminist to admit that had those two boys not come to my rescue and grabbed me I would have ended up flat on my face and probably broken. David, I am most grateful for your muscles yet that appreciation will not stop me from making fun of your stride. Idiocy = teasing. Sorry, I can’t change the laws of the universe that dictate the balancing of that equation.

Our team's incoherent apparel was quickly lost under too many mud layers to count.
Our team’s incoherent apparel was quickly lost under too many mud layers to count.

The Dirty Dash was again as filthy as its name would suggest. I’m glad that Jason and I had a couple of fresh, albeit sluggish, recruits to pester along its sloppy path. And yes, those dawdling rookies may have been somewhat instrumental in the successful implementation of my manglement prevention program. Thank you slow people for flexing your limbs when my tiny T. rex arms failed me.

Dirty Dash, may your dirt be as cozy and your muck be as sweet next time me and your mud pits meet.

Rachel June 26, 2013 No Comments

The Proverbial Corner

It is unanimously acknowledged among the chosen that biking is the ride to enlightenment. The insights of the ancients tell us so and who are we to argue with a bunch of really old people? Jason and I have found many favorite local spots for cycling transcendence but we are always happy to add another to our long list and that’s just what we did a couple of weeks ago when we tried out Corner Canyon in Draper for the first time. Those hallowed hills increased our comprehension of the proverbs of old and confirmed the agelessness of their admonitions. Allow me to share the proverbial truths testified by this ride:

Without a map, one cannot hope for a destination.

Corner Canyon contains a myriad of trails that crisscross and intersect each other often. The path options are boggling and the ways to get lost even more numerous so I’d strongly recommend grabbing a map from the trailhead if you wish to explore this region. Unless, of course, you prefer being puzzled perpetually over your whereabouts.

The Canyon Hollow Trail, full of twisty ups and downs, was particularly fun to ride.
The Canyon Hollow Trail, full of twisty ups and downs, was particularly fun to ride.

The wise man builds his house on rock; the fool rides his bike on sand.

We started out on the Lower Corner Canyon Trail and then joined up with the Canyon Hollow Trail until we hit Ghost Falls. Lower Corner Canyon traverses some sandy regions. Jason hit one of these, flipped his bike and did a topsy-turvy spiral over his handlebars. Fortunately, he only got a few scrapes and bruises from his unexpected aerial maneuvers.

The trails in Corner Canyon are well signed but they intersect each other so often that those markers are a lot less helpful than you'd expect.
The trails in Corner Canyon are well signed but they intersect each other so often that those markers are a lot less helpful than you’d expect.

Breaking the ties that bind makes even going downhill an uphill climb.

From Ghost Falls we had planned on taking another longer loop around the upper regions of the canyon but, alas, Jason’s bike chain broke just as we were nearing that phantom. He had to ride his bike all the way back down the canyon without the luxury of a chain. Luckily, the terrain is mostly downhill in that direction so, although he didn’t have any pedaling power or means of control, he made it to the car without crisis.

His broken chain, although highly inconvenient, did not break Jason's good mood.
His broken chain, although highly inconvenient, did not break Jason’s good mood.
A truck was lodged in the streambed near the falls and, judging from the trees enshrouding it, that steed wedgie had been in place for a long time.
A truck was lodged in the streambed near the falls and, judging from the trees enshrouding it, that steel wedgie had been in place for a long time.

The true state of man is sweaty. Only when we accept this are we open to the perspiration of the universe.

Ghost Falls, named so because it disappears altogether when the conditions are right, made for a nice, if unplanned, endpoint to our canyon climb. Thanks to the spring melt off, it was a gracefully twisting stream of water and its curvy flow over a series of flat mossy boulders was serene and mesmerizing.

Ghost Falls was no scary specter but a peaceful cascade of winding water.
Ghost Falls was no scary specter but a peaceful cascade of winding water.

Only a fool heeds the warning of fools.

We had heard from an acquaintance that most of the bikers frequenting Corner Canyon are jerks. However, we found them to be exactly the opposite. We encountered some of the friendliest, most helpful riders we’ve ever come across while on these trails. Many of them stopped to assist us with directions unsolicited. I guess we reeked of pathetically lost.

The view coming down the Ghost Falls Trail was quite lovely.
The view coming down the Ghost Falls Trail was quite lovely.

Nirvana is not just a state of being, it’s a state of pedaling and it can be reached. Our Corner Canyon adventure opened our third eyes along with our fourth and fifth ones too. Now that I can see so darn well, I predict that Jason and I will find our centers, or the sandy ground, in Corner Canyon again soon.

Rachel June 19, 2013 No Comments
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