We sat down at the coffee table in the brightly colored lounge.  My trainer opened her iMac and launched some charts and graphs, her hair back in a neat bun, peering at me over her rectangular glasses with a wry smile.

She could have been my accountant, I thought to myself, about to present an analysis of last years expenses or a list of receivables.  ‘So, Chris, here’s where we’ve done well, but here’s where we could improve our bottom line.”  But, no, she is a serious endurance athlete and trainer, and her fancy pie charts and line graphs were not displaying AR and CGS (accounts receivable and cost of goods sold); instead, it was MHR and BMI (maximum heart rate and body mass index), and the bottom line she was describing was a six month workout and training plan to prepare me for a series of trail races this summer.  the Dipsea, the Double Dipsea, and my current obsession, the Bridger Trail run near Bozeman Montana.

The Bridger.  A race truly deserving of obsession, along with fear, loathing and a dozen other strong emotions.  Touted by some as one of the most technical runs in the country, and by others as one of the top 10 bucket list runs in the universe, the Bridger is 20 miles of unadulterated hell in a heavenly package.  Starting at an elevation of over six thousand feet, the single track “trail” follows the ridge line along rock and scrabble, death defying drops on either side, gaining almost seven thousand feet during four brutal climbs and descending nine thousand feet in a series of joint jarring descents over five to six hours.

But I cannot think about that now.  That race, thankfully, is seven months — and many nightmares about it — away.  Today is about planning, building base, getting stronger.  Many miles on the trails, hill climbs on my bike, and countless hours in the gym.  And trying to get started on all of this while not worsening the slight hamstring tear that announced its presence yesterday with a purplish, mango sized, bruise above the back of my right knee.  Can’t make that worse, but can’t sit on my ass either.  What’s a 57 year old lawyer/aspiring-road-warrior to do?  Actually, thanks to my trainer, there’s no question as to what to do.  Simply look at the handy dandy app on my iPhone and it will tell me exactly what I need to do–what I must do–today, tomorrow and every single solitary day until somebody shouts  “go” on August 13 and 250 inhabitants of this particular insane asylum start the initial climb up towards Sacagawea Peak…..