The Groonins go to Newport

This will be more of a marathon recap than the usual travel report, but you might want to read it anyway. Or at least I'd like you to.

Because this wasn't even supposed to be a Newport recap. This was supposed to be a Mountains2Beach marathon (M2B) recap.

In 2013.

(I was also supposed to write up a recap of a summer 2013 trip to Victoria, B.C. -- which I loved! -- but that didn't happen either, though it was no fault of a run and just a fault of my procrastination. But Victoria? Go. Though I have heard good things about their marathon, too.)

I had/have been fighting achilles tendonitis for about a year, off and on, first on the left, and then on the right. Generally, my left side is quicker to heal than my right (because I am right-brained?) and so the right side dragged on for far longer than expected.

Sometimes I think it would actually be kind of a pleasure to have two left feet...

Anyway! So that precluded a marathon in May of 2013 as well as in December of 2013. I signed up for M2B again...and then Newport, in case M2B fell through or it was too hot or in case life came up. Well, life came up and for reasons beyond my control I was unable to run M2B, so Newport was my backup.

It's like the plot of an '80s teen movie: Say M2B was the date I really wanted to take to the prom, and Newport was the plain friend. And like any good '80s movie, the dark horse rears up and announces, "You know what? You're not good enough for me. And here's why!"

But we'll get to that later.

Begin nerdy runner stuff/

Training? It'd been okay. This was marathon #7. In previous training cycles, I'd actually peaked in training and then been unable to run the race (Boston 2011, I'm looking at you!). So I didn't do that at all here. I didn't want to push too hard in training (and maybe that's what got me) because my true focus was ensuring my Achilles wasn't going to snap up like a cheap motel room shade.

So I limited speed work--I did some tempo runs, but even then not super-fast--but my long run pace was getting faster with less effort, so I was happy about that. I focused more on maintaining the pace I wanted to do in the marathon.

So what was that pace? Below 3:45 would be good and would be totally doable, as a lot of my training runs were around that pace, and it didn't feel too fast. It felt normal, like regular pace. I felt like I could beat my PR of 3:43. In a pipe dream I might have done 3:40 or below but I didn't want to push that far yet. I turned 40 two months ago, so I do have the 3:45 qualifying time for Boston; while I like the extra five minutes, I also want to be enough under it so that I don't miss qualifying by like one second or something.

/End nerdy runner stuff--for now.

But travel! Let's get to the photos, yes?

Justin and I left work early on Friday to drive down to Newport. I didn't let on that I was running a marathon to basically anyone else. I will spew all kinds of shit about my runs and races after I do them, but beforehand I am a combination of superstitions and OCD. I did say we were going to the coast for our anniversary, which is kind of true (12 years June 2!), but that's about it.

("Happy anniversary, honey! Nothing says lovin' like  moving like an arthritic Tin Man!")

The drive was uneventful but in that freeing way that escaping four hours of work on a Friday on a sunny day is. Got to Newport, picked up my bib number and goodie bag from the Embarcadero Resort (where we were not staying) and got the hell out of there. I was glad there wasn't a real expo; a couple vendors sold things like extra Gu and some t-shirts but that was about it.

I am, however, thinking about starting a tumblr of The Random Things Included In Gift Bags. When I ran CIM several years ago, my bag had mini olive oil and balsamic vinegar samples. What does this have to do with running? For this race, they included Odwalla bars and a mini Clif bar -- ok, I get it, I can't eat them but I get it--but then also, a plastic disposable razor, with no identifiable brand name. What? They also had a small bag of dried cherries. Because mainlining dried fruit is a great way to prepare your GI system for 26.2 miles.

(I did eat a few of said cherries this morning and they were fucking delicious.)

Then we drove through Newport, which is cute and small. I'd been there seven (I think?) years ago, when my friends Joe, Kristin and I drove down and stayed there for a night and Joe and I paced Kelly in her first marathon at Newport, while Kristin took race photos. That had been a lot of fun: Joe and I started at the finish and ran to meet Kelly and then ran her in.

In the famous last words category, I'd then said to Joe as we ran out to meet Kelly: "Why do they call this race flat? This race isn't flat? It rolls. I'll never do this race."

Fuck.

I should have listened to my 33-year old self. She knew things.

But the memories were fond and the race was close to home and it would be cheap to go, so we went.

Back to 2014: Justin and I made our way to the Best Western where we were staying. It was friendly and clean (I'm sure the strand of hair on the bed was mine when I leaned over the pillow, right?). Even the remote was specially cleaned (?)

and our room had an excellent view of the lovely and very wide Agate Beach:

Though this was a bit Engrish:

WTF?

We went for an early dinner and to walk around the town. Driving back to town, Justin saw a store that advertised Antiques! Coffee! Jewelry! so we screeched into the parking lot. Maybe a find for his job!

But...no. For the first time he wanted to leave before I did.

But I was having a grand ole time. Sparkly hats! (That I was wary of actually putting on my own head, but whatevs, right?)

Perhaps Nora Ephron's inspiration for THE WAGON WHEEL COFFEE TABLE?!

Anyway. 

Then by the Bayside: Seals! I LOVE seals!! Seals are awesome. I could watch them for hours.

I love seals. I'm totally not being sarcastic here. I LOVE SEALS. I think I need to learn more about them. I love seals.

Ate an early sushi dinner and retired early. Justin actually fell asleep before I did. (12 years of marriage, yay?) No photos of that, but here's a sunset photo taken from our room. You can't really tell with the shitty iPhone, but it was one of those skies where multiple sunbeams shoot out from moderately densely packed clouds and it's like a hand from the sky. I took that as an omen of sorts.

What KIND of omen, you ask? Wait for the next post.

Day 4: Ashland - Eugene - Portland

The next morning we had a delectable 3-course breakfast at the B&B, and then gathered our things and headed on our way.

First, a stop at the Ashland Farmer's market. Hot hot hot! We stopped at the tent of a guy selling carnivorous, tropical plants. They had one that curled up the moment you touched it. I wanted one. But I thought it might die in the car on the way home. I haven't had good luck with flora lately. I don' t know why.

Hot!

Hot!

Did I mention it was hot?

Hot!

About 11 a.m. it was well into the 90s. (Ha, I almost wrote '90s. It was well into the era of Hammer Pants when we left town...)

We stopped at Paschal Winery in Talent, about 15 minutes out of town. Tasted their wines. Again, some really good stuff. Seems like there are a lot down there. But we just didn't have the time, money, or wherewithall (what is wherewithall, anyway?). I would like to go back to southern Oregon and do an Ashland play/southern Oregon wines long weekend at some point. Anyone game?

Me outside winery:

Next, it was up to Grants Pass, to check out Rogue Creamery and Lillebelle chocolates. Yes, our trips do tend to revolve around food. Deal.

I was kind of disappointed by Rogue. Not their cheeses (oh to have brought any of it home!). But the place itself. I had thought it would be more like a factory, like Tillamook. I also thought there would be more in Grants Pass. Lots of nothingness, again.

Then it was time to hit the road again and stop by the Oregon Vortex.

I've included the link above because I'm too lazy to explain it fully. Basically it's a place in southern Oregon that's built on a hill and so everything looks different in an optical illusion sort of way. And this is supposed to be all Ripley's Believe it Or Not/That's Incredible/X-Files/Woo-Freakin'-Woo.

The whole thing annoyed me. Is there a term for beyond bored? Stupefied? It was about 110 degrees, you're standing in a house that's leaning, feeling claustrophobic, and dude! the reason everything looks different? you're standing on a hill! Can I get our $ back now?

Okay, at least mine?

The guide was a good guy, and used all of us in various demos of how this place doesn't conform to any physical properties (things rolling uphill and such). But you can pretty much tell how much I want to be back in my car's a/c right about after my demo:

Justin, on the other hand, bought a t-shirt.

Back in the car, heading home. Starts to look like the Oregon most know:

No more photos after this one. We stopped in Eugene for dinner at Cafe Yumm (the same one that I ate at before the Eugene half, so it had good energy. I love Cafe Yumm). I took the wheel, and we headed home, got home about 7 p.m. and immediately turned on the a/c...but I think it got cool around 2 a.m.

Am I glad we did the trip? Hell's yes. Did it take time away from home projects and other work to do Yeah, it did. But when else were we gonna go? August is full, September's getting there.

We may travel again sometime in January, if I have anything to say about it.

Maybe next time I'll even take my computer. And can actually devise interesting posts along the way.

This one is showing its age.

Day 3: Ashland

So as a writer (though you probably can't tell from this blog), I should have gotten to Ashland sooner than this. And I also should have seen a play there, which we didn't. (The timing was off, I am regretful but will likely return. So what if it's partly for the wineries? More on that later.)




It was insanely hot.


We were hungry.



It was lunchtime.


We couldn't check into our B&B until 4 p.m., so we had to get some lunch and tool around. We first went to one place, and you know how you're fine, fine, not hungry, okay, but then suddenly and without warning it tips you over into "I'm going to eat my own face?" It doesn't matter that it's kind of not possible. Hunger makes you do desperate, desperate things. That happened in this one place we went into (I can't remember the name, and wouldn't care to share it even if I did remember). We got seated. And 10 minutes went by. 15. No one came by. Place was packed. It was 1:45 by now and I was ready to eat many faces.


You don't want to be with me when I'm like this. The emergency energy bar in the purse was long gone, demolished somewhere around Crane.

We left and went next door, where there was a salad bar! For immediate gratification. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see a salad bar. And it was a good one, too.


Justin is not as well-versed as I am in "how to make a light, cheap salad." Yes, mine was bigger. But his was more expensive. Everyone (but him, I guess) knows that you don't put in the whole hardboiled eggs to salad bar salads! That's like $2 each! Hee hee. This salad is sold by weight, not volume. Just like cereal, my friends.


After the hunger shakes mellowed, we wandered around Lithia Park.


Did I mention it was hot?
I think I am panting like a dog here. It was 104, I think?


We found a shady spot and lay on the grass, looking up, listening to all the hippies (wow, there are so.many.hippies) play guitar, watching leaves fall, maybe getting a contact high. Occasionally I'd snark to Justin "People are at work now."

Realizing we were in a 2-hour parking spot, and not knowing how rigidly they ticket in Ashland during a hot summer Monday, we drove off to check out Weisingers winery. It's real close to downtown Ashland, which was a plus: We didn't want to go far. We just needed to kill some time (die, time, die!) and so off we went.


Which looks like this:

Justin outside tasting room:


The night before, in Lakeview, we had watched an OPB special on honeybees. Normally I get completely freaked out by anything bee, but this was really interesting and gave me a better understanding of the insects that terrify me so. If there are reasons that things happen, then maybe the stay in the scary hotel was designed to make me entirely un-freaked out and vaguely fascinated by what was in this winery:


Men in ugly hats!

Kidding.

Kind of.

That is a hive! Of honeybees! They come in from the outside, through this tube!



The owner was there, giving tastings, and he helped us spot the queen and talked a bunch about bees and colony collapse disorder (what we'd seen the show about--why bees are disappearing--not just dying, but vanishing--and no one knows why).

Despite that--or because of that--their wines were really quite good. And we had a great time talking to the owner; we covered everything from How We Met to Yes, Thank YOu For Agreeing, It's Totally Okay Not To Have Kids If You Don't Want Them.

We bought three bottles.

Now it was finally time to check into our hotel, the Morical House. Liked it a lot. Very comfy, non-foofy. B&Bs scare me, for their foofiness. This was non-foofy. I recommend. We napped for a bit (see a pattern here?) and while Justin continued to nap, I wandered back into the main house to get some tea to wake me up a bit.

Where I ran into...my old roommate--and her boyfriend-- from when I first moved here! I was totally sleepy still and spaced it at first but it was crazy weird! Not only is Portland a small town, but despite the vastness that we'd experienced on this trip, Oregon is a small place.

At least for those who have taste. And Elizabeth has very good taste.

Later that evening, Justin and I went back into town for dinner. We couldn't decide where to go. We had a drink at the bar in the Ashland Spring hotel, and then wandered around and decided to go to...damn, I can't remember the name, but I loved it. Sesame? Sesame's? Something like that. It is new, and Asian-fusioney, and right by Lithia Park. Good food, great portions, and I was freaking starving. Thumbs up.

Got back to the B&B, crashed out and then the next day it was time to make our way northward.

Day 2: Lakeview

So we chilled for a little while. Actually, Justin took a nap and I went outside (I'm sorry but I was not going to stay on the premises more than I had to) to get caught up on my magazines. yes, it was hot. But I'd rather be outside in the hot than inside with the old.

A little time later we decided to tool around and see what Lakeview has to offer. Answer: Absolutely fucking nothing.

An antique store near the border. Which was closed.

See, the border to California is pretty close by.

What's vageuly schizo is that you are standing next to the "Welcome to California" sign, but the sign next to it is pointing the way to Goose Lake, an Oregon State Park:

Goose Lake? More like marshy bog-type thing, where lots of cows and geese hang out and talk to each other:

As well as cranky husbands:

As for dinner options, we went to the Safeway in Lakeview (you don't want a picture) to get a couple other things, as the motel had a kitchenette.

And that's the end of the Lakeview story.

Next: Enroute to Astoria

Day 2: Fields - Lakeview

This is Fields:

Actually, that's Justin.

And that's Fields Station.

And Fields Station is, essentially, Fields.

It's got to be the only food, fuel, restroom (actually a port-o-pot) for 90 or so miles? You can fuel up your car--and your plane. Apparently planes land there. For fuel. And probably for milkshakes. That would be good. If you had the plane and lived at the base of the Steens, you wouldn't even need to get in the plane for a frozen confection. You could give people rides. I digress and stuff.

Because the milkshakes are that good. After all, they've sold in the thousands (I was bummed that they didn't move the # on the sign when we were there. shouldn't they once you order one? do they do it at the end of the day? I should have asked, but the proprietress kind of scared me, in a not bad way, but just like I shouldn't ask about it.) Anyway, do signs like this not slay you? They slay me. Positively slayed, I tell you!

You walk in and the little store and restaurant are cooled by a huge swamp cooler. Apparently they are very efficient in this kind of heat. I only know from swamp coolers from a friend of mine who is an ex-Marine who used to live out near Joshua Tree in CA. Hers, she said, smelled like cat pee. Thankfully, this one didn't. That's all I know about swamp coolers. I don't know how they work or even why they are called swamp coolers. That they are good in the desert and can smell like cat pee.

Moving on, we ordered lunch. Justin got a burger and I got eggs and hashbrowns. We split a caramel milkshake, which I was glad for because the portions are for if you have a tank as big as a Cessna's. I'm not complaining though.

See below? That yellow stack that looks like it's under some sort of hydroponic light? That was my island of hashbrowns. There must have been 2 lbs. of them there. All for me. And they were so well-done: all crispy and bonded together and cheesy and eggs...oh, so good.

But yeah we could have probably split it.

More of the joint. I am in love with places like this. Why? I just am.

And very full and happy, we left and headed even further south.

To continue to get to Lakeview, Oregon, our stopping point for the night, we had to cross into Nevada.

The state line between Oregon and Nevada (at least on route 292) is a cow grate.

I'm not kidding.

I am not armless. I think I'm just extremely uncomfortable. Like: "aaah! we're in Nevada! my parents live here! they might sense I am in the state! let's get in and out as quick as possible!"

But that's southern Nevada. Vegas. Doesn't count.

So let's discuss Northern Nevada. An even stranger landscape, more otherworldly. Nothingness. Desolate. I love it. It fits.

Maybe 60 miles or so and we were back in Oregon. And Justin is doing the hands-behind-back-I'm-really-uncomfortable pose. I think he was a bit put out at having to stop for all the state line signs. But I love that shit. Sorry. And I was driving this portion. (We'll get to that in a moment.)
On the other hand, I'm practically molesting the sign, I'm so happy to be back in Oregon!



So we continued on. You know how I say Justin did 90% of the driving, even though we took my car? Yeah. He did. he wanted to drive the first day. Fine. Then I did a bit of the second day, down around Crane, and then stopped to eat something. Then he did. Then I took over. And so on.

But here's the deal: he's driven a hell of a lot more than I have. And so when we passed a sign that said 8% downgrade (ha ha , that sounds like dating, now that I type that) and with a precipice and no rail on the other side, I had a panic attack. No way was I doing that! Girlie girl! I need a man to step in! Fuck. I need more driving confidence.

It's like this: When I talk to people I can hear what they're not saying. And when I drive, I can see what shouldn't happen. So it's why I don't as much as I should. Hi, therapy!

Anyway, right around the hang gliding jumping-off point is where I gave up captaining Nellie for a bit:
This is also why I'm glad I did.

Livestock! In the road! I would have pulled around a bend and hit them like I did a deer in 1992! Cows! Momma and Baby! They hung out for a little bit and trotted away. Cows! Cuteness! Moo.

Finally, after what had been a long day of driving, we pulled into Lakeview, another of the one-street towns. I'm pretty sure we were the only people in this hotel. This was one of the creepiest stays I'd ever experienced. It wasn't unclean, but it was just cree-to-the-pee!

First off, you walk in and the place smells like old ladies. Not like a nursing home, but...old ladies. It had that high, weird perfumey potporri smell and ambiance of a too-old regular candy hiding in a dish full of dusty glass confections. And this was only in the entryway! The even weirder thing was that I saw no evidence of an air freshener or anything of the sort. It was like a ghost scent. Justin smelled it too.

They put us in the handicapped room.

They had printed on paper signs on everything. "Make sure you close the door!" to an outside door. "Keep voices down in the hallway!" and "Guests only!" in the exercise room, the description of which I will not creep you out with.

It was seriously like going to the Scary Aunt's house where you can't do anything, eat anything, bounce on the bed, sit on the cushions, and the place smells of staleness, and you feel oppressive and things are floral and weird, etc. You get it. I don't get this place. I wonder if it was once an old age home or something?

You know what it was like? Some Japanese fetish love hotel that was like supposed to be scary grandma's house! Maybe some people like that. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there.

Besides, I thought old people were supposed to all, correct your grammar and stuff. I know I'll be one of those old people. Hell, I'm one of them already. To wit:

If you don't see the problem here, I'm not sure we can be friends.

Day 1: Bend-Burns

Food in bellies, water grabbed, samples acquired, time to move along. Satiated, energy, let's get this show on the road!


We got past Bend and the landscape started to change even more. Uncharted lands! Here we were, Justin and Carin, Carin and Justin. The Groonins, exploring. Here we go! Is the first day of a roadtrip not the best? I think it is. You're all pumped and travel-fresh.



It looks...kind of like nothing!







And nothing, like this:





is so, so, so, totally something, when you are on a roadtrip, isn't it?






There's so much...nothing...that you, eventually, might start to worry about...something. Or maybe worry about the fact that you are worrying about nothing. or that this nothing might become something and lose all its nothingness.


It's like being in an old house in the middle of nowhere. lovely and peaceful and far away from the hoi polloi maddening crowd...but what if something happened? Is that something happening? It sounds like something happening. Who will find you Will you be eaten by the local wildlife? Should you have gotten OnStar? Why are you thinking about this?

There's no one on the roads. You don't see a speed limit sign. You take the car up to 80, 85, 95, 100--and you're still not passing anyone, or, more importantly, getting passed by anyone. It's loud from the wind and you wonder if you're going to be able to slow down enough if one of those "livestock" signs you see every often comes true, but there's no one on the roads and the land starts to reflect the sky like water...

...and as it gets dusky and dry and you almost can't see anymore...you pull into Burns.

Pretty much every town we passed or spent time in, save Bend or Portland, or Ashland to a lesser extent, had one street, going through the town, with stuff on either side of it, for maybe .5 of a mile. And then you were done. The kind of thing where you really don't need to look up an address, because it will be on the street.

Our motel in Burns fit this mold. It was perfectly serviceable, with great water pressure and this weird paper towel thing that was under the brochure about the area and motel guide. I really don't know what this thing was. It was thicker than a paper towel, but not cloth. It was like a fancy paper napkin, but bigger and not luxurious-feeling. It was dry. I don't understand it.

Justin shows it off here:

Roadtrip! Day 1: Portland - Bend - Burns

This is what it looked like for 90% of the driving. We'll get to that eventually.


First thing: I think it's obvious that me (Carin) will be doing all the writing, because I'm the one who insists on documenting stuff like this. Justin is happy to do the interjections and random witticisms. (Besides, he's got enough house stuff to do that I am not allowed to do--hello, I can't build a porch railing.) So I refuse to talk about ourselves in the third-person. Anyway.

I also realize that the point of blogging is to blog as you go and not when you are back to summarize. But I tend not to take my computer with me if I'm not traveling for work (traveling for work? what's that? sigh).

Summer's here. And you know what that means: roadtrip!

We've been North (Vancouver, BC). We've been West (coast). We've been South (Eugene, and Justin's been to CA more than me lately). But, we hadn't really been East, save for a race I'd like to forget. So, have we been East? No!

So: Roadtrip!


Plus, Nellie (my car) told me she wanted to go. (Nellie is both the name for my car "Whoah, Nellie!" and "Nellie the Navigator." They will be used interchangeably throughout this writeup.)

Why we took an all-black car to the desert is anyone's guess, and it's also the same twisted reasoning that we went there during record high temperatures. But after checking weather.com and realizing that it was going to be hot as hell everywhere, we figured why not. And we bought a dorky sunshade. It looks like something an ancient Floridian uses to tan.


It was a dry heat.


It was a hot heat.

It was the best of times, the worst of times...


So let's begin.

Justin works Saturdays. He was able to leave work early, but not until 3 p.m. This actually wasn't all bad; it allowed time for a run, some freelance work, and laundry. I picked him up at 3 p.m., bags packed, ready to go...


...except for the fact that we had to come home for Justin to:

- fix a leak under the sink that I thought I would mess up further if I attempted
- use the facilities


And, so about 3:30, we were off.


Our first stop for the evening would be Burns, Oregon (about a 6-hour drive from Portland). Nellie the Nav said we'd be into Burns around 9:55 p.m. I figured we'd stop for dinner in Bend somewhere, and then continue on.



We took 26 out, past Powell, past Gresham, and eventually it starts to look like a real road and not a street,which is how it looks in Portland. This takes you by Mt. Hood. It was a very bright and hot day and the mountain was out, super-crisp and clear:




The last time we drove east (it was for a race I'd like to forget, remember?) once of the things I noticed most was the demarcation line.



See, here's the thing: If you take 26, you basically drive around Mount Hood. And so you're climbing up, up, up, past the mountain and higher and higher and it's all alpine and foresty...




...and up up up, the air has that good clean smell of dense wet greenery and up up up, sparkling streams, verdant, green, dense, and you're going and going and...

the line of demarcation. You're now in the high desert.


It doesn't gradually shift so much that you don't notice it. It's totally abrupt, a literal line in the sand. There's no marker or anything. You just know. It is like a finishing line. Bang! New! Scenery! NOW!

(We were going too fast to get a photo. It's that quick.)

And then it starts to look like this, deep and wide and dry and crevasse-y:

Then when you're starting to get to Bend, the trees get nubbier, stubbier, there's some roll rather than deep dives of land again:

A note: Sorry, but many of these photos were either taken by me (as a passenger! I am responsible! driver!) through the windshield, the right hand window, or out the sunroof. If we stopped everywhere I wanted to take a photo, we'd be getting back sometime around Thanksgiving.


I was dumb and lazy and didn't get a AAA book of Oregon, like I should have. So we wanted to get something to eat when we got to Bend, but didn't know where to go. And we didn't want to take too much time. The AAA book would have been good for suggestions, but I didn't get a chance to go over there and pick one up. And my awesome Next Exit Before You Exit book is only good on the interstates, which didn't apply for most of our trip.


We drove by a Sonic.


"Oooh, I said, I wouldn't mind trying that."


"Really?" said Justin.


"Really," I answered. "Except we're not eating in my car."


(I have a no eating or drinking rule in my vehicle. I'd like to keep one thing I own nice. The only exceptions are water and the coffee thermos my friend C takes with us on winetasting trips because we leave before her usual alarm goes off. She's grandfathered in, and it's partly because she brings all the yummy snacks.)


So we get out of the car. I use the bathroom. And then go to look at the menu.


There's nothing there I can eat.


Breaded this! Fried and breaded that! Meat this! Chicken that! Fried and breaded! Cheese! Fried! Breaded!


I can't do bread. It makes me...uncomfortable. I wasn't hungry enough to have my first meat experience in 15 years be at a Sonic, outside Bend, Oregon, before a 4-day roadtrip to remote destinations.

We didn't even bother with a slushie. Slushie not good for actual hunger.


We drove on. We drove into town but they were having some sort of bike event and there was no parking and strollers abounded. So we continued on.


And good eye! Justin spied a Whole Foods. Score! It was kind of a lame one, but hey, it was dinner. Salads and free samples FTW.


We continued onto Burns.