Mononucleosis. Yuk. You're supposed to get that in college, not at the age of 30 something. Hah. Much complaining later, I knuckled down to really try to NOT DO ANYTHING physically demanding for as long as it took to get better. I skipped a half marathon, a 50 mile run, and my favorite adventure race of the year, and didn't run a step for 2 months. That's probably the longest I haven't run in 20 years.
I found out I could do strength workouts (slowly), and I took the dog for lots of walks. I tried to keep training dog agility with Spot, but I would end a 30 second run wheezing and trying to catch my breath. Wait...I always do that.
So we canceled all big summer plans which included lots of biking and hiking, and we are enjoying being in Utah for a hot summer. Which includes exploring Utah now that I am feeling better. I had been getting the itch to go backpacking, and we thought taking the dog with us would be fun.
The Wasatch mountains are beautiful, but they tend to be steep and dry and not have many good places to camp. I wouldn't say they are flatter in northern Utah, but we found a hike next to a stream, which would be good for Spot.
High Creek Canyon lived up to its name as we drove up a narrow rutted gravel road to the trailhead. The creek was in spring flood stage, and I hope I remembered correctly that all the creek crossings on the trail had bridges! The snow this year had been almost 200% of normal so now that it was all melting, the streams were high everywhere.
We had the trail mostly to ourselves with only a couple of cars in the lot. I kept Spot on the leash as we started up the trail, partly because of the fresh cow poop everywhere and partly because I was being overly caucious about his safety. The first two crossings of the creek were on nice new bridges, but the third one was a rickety old thing that we had to cross on hands and knees ourselves. The water was over Spots back and moving very fast. I thought to carry him across the stream, and walked across myself to see how it felt. Barely keeping my balance with my walking poles, I figured a wiggly 50 pound dog was a recipe for disaster. The bridge it was. Spot was cajoled to sit on my lap, and then I inched my way across.