Let the Trail Come to You, Part I: Forget the PR Mohican 50K

So, a little catch up is in order...

I really haven't made a lot of progress on getting over all of the pesky injuries that seem to creep up and interrupt my training and my racing.  After being cautious all winter, I had another debilitating bout with ITBS about 7 weeks out from Forget the PR this spring.  I went to physical therapy, where my practitioner, Kelly Newsad, recommended a different approach to getting over my issue: correct my over-striding.  Essentially, landing with my foot so far out in front of my center of mass was placing an enormous stress on my hips, keeping them in a perpetual state of tightness.  This tightness was not helping keep my IT band loose.  So, through the use of a metronome, I gradually increased my cadence until I was at the "magic" number of 180 strides per minute. I had started at 164 strides per minute, which wasn't bad, but still not ideal. It was not an easy transition;  my calves ached, I had no endurance, and I was even slower than before.  But, after about three weeks, my shorter strides were coming about more naturally, and I was landing on my midfoot, rather than on my heels.  In addition to the changes to my form, we also worked on strengthening the glutes and the calves, which were now more involved in carrying me across the miles than ever before.

I was feeling pretty good about the changes to my running.  My body was adapting pretty well and I was building my miles back up.  With about two weeks to go before Forget the PR,  I decided to see if I could rack up a good long trail run at Great Seal State Park.  I know I was coming back awfully fast and it was risky, but I REALLY REALLY wanted a chance to be at the starting line.  I managed about 18.5 slow and hilly miles.  It wasn't pretty, but I got it done. However, a new nemesis made its debut:  plantar fasciitis.  It was occurring on my left foot and was likely triggered by both a bunion and the new midfoot strike .  My foot was hurting pretty bad and made me decide that on race day, I would have to run with my hyper-cushioned Hoka Mafates.  I was not planning on running in those shoes, as they were the shoes I was wearing when my latest IT band injury occurred, and I had suspicions about them being a contributing factor.  But, they were the only shoes that did not irritate the plantar fascia.  While the risk of ITBS was greater with the Hokas, I could at least walk should the ITBS return. I could not walk with plantar fasciitis, which meant I would certainly DNF when the pain became intolerable.  This was not an ideal situation - attempting a 50K while still recovering from an old injury and while a new one was developing.  But, I had been training for so long to get this finish that I was willing to take a risk.  No guts, no glory, right?

Race day arrived and I was ecstatic to be at the starting line.  My dear friend and ultra running vet, Kathy Wolf,  agreed to be my pacer and to stay with me to the finish.  I warned her that I was not sure if my body will allow for a finish.  I told her that if I could at least get to 20 miles in one piece, I would walk it in.  I was wearing a Garmin, but just had it set to show distance, as I did not want to get caught up in pace.  She told me to let her worry about pace and I had no problem with that!  All I wanted was a comfortable finish, whatever pace/time that meant. After a pre-race speech by volunteer extraordinaire (and badass ultra runner in her own right) Kimba and race director Rob, we were off.  The early miles went well; the pace felt easy - almost too easy at times.  Big Ass Hill came and went and I could not believe how easily I had climbed that hill compared to other days I have trained on it.  Tapering is truly an amazing thing! :)  I had to make a couple early stops to deal with the hot spots that were forming on my feet and toes.  Another issue I have with the Hokas is that they are probably a half size too small, so blistering in inevitable.  I kept some spare duct tape wrapped around my water bottle to tape problem areas whenever they would occur, rather than wait until I got to an aid station.  Given that this course had a half dozen water crossings, I needed to be extra-attentive to my feet.

After the first aid station at the fire tower, we descended south to the bridle trails. If there is one thing I have learned with trail running is that bridle trails almost always mean mud, and this part of the trail was no exception.  The cushioning on the Hokas is fantastic - it really keeps your feet and body from getting prematurely beat up (however, no matter what shoes you wear, you WILL get beat up eventually).  However, the outsole is not rugged enough to handle mud.  I was slipping and sliding all over the place.  We finally left the mud for a brief period and ran on a little road until we hit the aid station at 13 miles.  Another runner I knew was dropping here due to his own bout of plantar fasciitis, and as much as I hated slip-sliding in the Hokas, I was grateful that I wore them, otherwise I , too, could be dropping out.  I grabbed some Coke (manna from heaven) and some Fritos, and Kathy and I walked out of the aid station.  At this point, the sun was up high, and though it was not terribly hot (60s), we were navigating trails that did not have a lot of shade and the sun was wearing me out.  Kat was having us walk a little more through this section.  Thankfully, there were a lot of stream crossings in this section that presented as opportunities for cooling off.  We were a little off Kathy's plan at this point, which I found out was a 7:45 finish.  She asked me if I would be OK with an 8 hour finish.  I told her that I sincerely did not care about finishing time; just keep us under the cutoff!   She said that we had no worries there, so we proceeded to run and walk as needed.  We hit another aid station at about 16.5 miles or so.  I had some more Coke and Fritos, which seemed to be my race food of choice.  I thought it was funny that I trained with sweets: Oreos, Snickers, and Clif Shots, but during the actual event, all I wanted was salty and fizzy.  

It was after this aid station that I started to feel my stomach heading south.  The jostling of running gave me chills and made me feel nauseous.  I walked a little bit until the feeling went away, and then we started to run again.  That is when I first noticed it:  a dull ache on the outside of my knee.  I told myself it could be anything.  We were approaching 20 miles, and of course stuff is going to start to hurt.  But the more I ran, the more noticeable it was becoming.  I was carrying an IT band strap with me, and decided that I should probably put it on, just in case, but it was too late.  When we rolled back into the fire tower aid station at 20 miles, I could not run without that all-too familiar disabling pain on the outside of my knee. I turned to Kat and told her that I could no longer run.  But, I had made it 20 miles and knew I could finish walking.  The idea of walking 11 miles with a bum IT band on a course full of hills was not very appealing.  But, I had come too far to quit now.  I wanted the finish line.  I wanted that finisher's buckle!  I told Kat that she could go on if she wanted to run, but like the good pacer and friend that she is, she said she was with me all the way.  She told me that the walking would be good training for Grindstone, a mountainous 100 mile race in Virginia that she would be attempting in October.  I wasn't sure that a long walk in April would be of any help to her in October, but I allowed myself to believe that walking would be beneficial to her future race plans and tried not to feel sorry for myself, or for her.  I was bummed that we were walking it in, and I was worried about the long-term repercussions to my body by doing this race while injured.  But, like the Clear Fork River that awaited us in another 2.5 miles, that was water under the bridge.  I resolved to focus on the positive and enjoy my time on the trail with my friend and be happy that I was going to get my first 50K finish.

The next section of the race followed the Hog's Hollow Trail from the fire tower down to the Covered Bridge.  For a healthy runner, it is a dream segment: downhill, fast and scenic.  A welcome reward for making it to 20 miles.  For a runner with an IT band injury:  it's a nightmare.  While walking flats and uphills is mostly painless, walking downhills is excruciating, slow, and frustrating.  This was a segment I was hoping to be able to run fast.  Instead of looking forward to it, I was filled with dread.  This was going to hurt.  I tried again to see if I could muster a run of any length on this trail. I could barely run for more than a few steps.  Rats.  So, I switched gears into "walk with a purpose" mode, as I couldn't quite generate a full-on power walk. This was working well until I encountered any kind of down grade.  The only way I could get down a hill with any element of speed was to turn my leg sideways, straighten it up, and drag it behind me while I bounded with my good leg.  I am sure I looked ridiculous.  Since I was moving so slow, I was noticing all the spring wildflowers in bloom, and noticed that there was quite a bit of skunk cabbage along the trail. This excited me greatly.  I was really hoping to see one in bloom, and I told Kat that I was going to find her a blooming skunk cabbage, as their flowers are pretty cool. She probably thought I had lost it, but it was giving me something else to focus on besides the side of my knee.  Sadly, I never did find one in bloom, as it was a bit late in the season.  So, Kat, here is what you missed.

And not a single bloom amongst them all!

Finally, we got to the Covered Bridge aid station and were ready to start the purple loop.  This is the part of the race with the hand-over-hand climb up Little Lyons Falls.  It's also a slow-going section as the first mile or so goes up a small stream bed full of bedrock, boulders, and roots.  It's fairly technical and slippery.  Kat remarked that once we reached this point in the race, we were going to be moving slow regardless of the circumstances.  This thought did make me feel somewhat better about my situation. Plus, I knew once we finished this 4 mile loop, we'd be on our way to the finish line.  We started our walk on a fairly flat section that is along the Clear Fork River.  We encountered a few runners that were on their way back to the Covered Bridge after completing the loop.  I was energized by this, as I got to see three of my friends on their return loop - Bob, Segev, and Tim. Segev and I commiserated for a moment,  as he was having IT band troubles of his own.  It was good to see the guys and know that they were all going to finish.  I wished them all well and then pushed forward into the "Enchanted Valley" - the little creek bed that leads to Little Lyons Falls.  I like to think that everything happens for a reason.  While I was not too enamored with the massive slow down of my race, something happened in this section that made me grateful for the events that led me to be on the trail at a particular moment. We were navigating the creek bed behind another racer who was from Pennsylvania.  We were making chit-chat on the trail as we navigated over boulders and downed trees.  I had mentioned previously that this trail was slippery.  As Pennsylvania guy went to take a step onto the rock in front of him, his feet literally slipped out from under him and he fell backward - right into my hands.  I was able to catch his head right before it hit the rocky ground behind him.  Now, maybe he would have been OK, and maybe not, but I felt like I was there at this moment just to keep this guy's head from splitting open all over the trail.  Maybe it was just something else to make me feel better about the race I was having; that my running injury happened so that I could be used for a higher purpose. Sure, why not? 

We made it up and over Little Lyons falls without any falls of our own.  We then had a short section of trail before we ended up on a section of road along the not-so-aptly named Pleasant Hill Dam.  I really was hoping to put down a fast walk here, but this road section was pretty much all uphill.  I was also feeling a hot spot on the back of my heel.  So, we sat down on the road, patched my heel with duct tape, and moved on.  It wasn't too much longer before Kat mentioned that she was having an issue of her own on her heel.  She showed me the spot where the heel counter of her shoe had rubbed right through her sock and left her with a bloody hole.  I asked her why she didn't say something earlier??  She said she didn't want to complain.  I told her that misery would have loved some company miles ago, so next time, complain away!  I gave her some of my magic duct tape to get her through until we could do a proper tape job at the aid station.  This section felt endless, but soon enough, we were finally on our way back to the Covered Bridge.  To my surprise, there were still runners heading out to start their purple loop.  As slow as we were moving, we weren't going to be last!

We finally got back to the Covered Bridge and were ready to start the journey home. Kat decided that she didn't need any more taping for her heel, the duct tape should get her through 5 more miles.  By this time, the muscle on the front of my right shin, the tibialis anterior, was incredibly sore and painful.  All of the downhills with my legs all straight had not been kind to it.  Thankfully, we had one more stream crossing: the Clear Fork right at the Covered Bridge.  This stream was deep enough that it went over my knees and the cool water gave my aching lower right leg some serious relief.  The last section of the race followed the Clear Fork downstream back to the camp ground area where the start/finish was located.  It was mostly flat, though there was one significant climb left via the North Rim Trail.  The angst of not being able to run returned, as this was a very runnable section.  I comforted myself by thinking that I probably would not have had much run left in me at this point anyway, so try not to sweat all the walking.  I was dreading the North Rim Trail in the worst way, because as we all know, what goes up must come down.  The idea of more downhills was killing me, as now with my shin hurting, there was no way for me to navigate the downhills without pain. I could only hope the smell of the finish line would be an anesthetic!  One of the good things about walking for so long was once we did reach the climb up the North Rim Trail, I was actually passing people on the way up.  Of course, all of those people were going to smoke me on the downhills, but I didn't care.  I was going to savor this tiny victory!  The downhills were not as bad as I thought, though I was terribly slow.  Hills, both up and down, are Kat's strong suit, even when walking, and she ended up way ahead of me.  She kept turning around to check on me, and each time, I told her "I'm comin' Roberta!" as I hobbled down the trail.  We were almost there and I could feel the happy vibes were kicking in as the finish line drew closer.  I told Kat that no matter what, I wanted to run through the finish.  When we finally got to the campground, she asked me if I was ready to run.  I told her I'd try, but we were still too far away, as I had to stop after about 30 seconds.  So we walked a little more, until we literally could see the final straightaway.  At this point, I could hear people shouting my name.  I saw my friend Adrienne, who placed 3rd female in the 25K, run up to meet us and Kat, who had taken pictures throughout the race for me, handed her the camera so that she could capture the dramatic finish.  We ran through the finish line and finished with a time of 8:36:17.  Rob Powell, the race director, handed me my buckle and gave me a huge bear hug at the end.  It wasn't pretty, but I had finished.  The best news of the day?  There was beer left!

So that was five months ago and the start of a long, hard summer of trying to bounce back.  I had done a real doozy on my knee, and it was not going to let me forget it.  But, I am grateful at least that it gave me what I had been chasing, for better or worse, for over a year:  my first 50K finish!

Me and Kat with our finisher's buckles. Thanks, Kat, for sticking with me through thick and thin, my friend!

Throwing Down the Gauntlet

It's been a while since I have written a blog post.  Three months, actually.  It's not that I haven't had anything to say, it's just that a lot of it is negative and I don't want this blog to be a repository of bitchy posts.  But, I need to document what is happening, if for nothing else but to help myself.  And it's not like there has been nothing good going on.  I'll try to summarize:

I ran an amazing 17 miler at Mohican a week after I decided not to run Bigfoot.  Had this run been used to determine my readiness, I would totally have gone for it.  I managed to keep a 13 minute pace for this run, had fun, and even climbed the firetower!  It's so nice to have one that feels so good. 

With Sam Kerbler and Terri Lemke (local ultra running legend!) on the firetower.

The following week was Salt Fork 10 Mile Trail Challenge, which is the day before Bigfoot and is one loop of the Bigfoot course.  I had hoped to do the run in less than two hours, but sadly, it rained like the dickens the week before and the course was wetter and muddier than any of my preceding visits.  By the time I hit the stretch of road halfway through, I was cooked.  I didn't make up any time on the road as I ended up walking a bit.  I ended up finishing in 2:09.  Damn mud :).  The happy part of the day was that Kim also did the race!  It was her first trail race, and though she found it to be quite challenging, she had a lot of fun.  She's totally hooked on trail running now.  Another one bites the dust!  Hehe.

Last hill before the finish. I'm ready for it to be over, yes.

Kim and I at the finish. Look how happy she is!

The rest of December was a mish-mash of running, as the holidays always make it challenging to be consistent. The following week after Bigfoot, I did half of the Festivus 50K, an annual Fat Ass event that encompasses all of the Olentangy Trail from Worthington to Whittier Peninsula and back.  Sam and I left my Subaru at Scioto Audubon Metro Park and drove together to the start.  We ran and then ran/walked with Lisa Fine and Julie Bowen-Miller.  Even though we ran slow, we were struggling at the end, which ended up being almost 17 miles. The entire run was on flat pavement, and it has been a long time since I had gone that far on that kind of surface.  Get me back to the trails, stat!  

Once the New Year rolled in, I was set to go with a training plan in hand and motivation was high.  Then I got sick, REALLY sick, the first week of January.  It was the worst head cold I had in a long time.  Once the cold symptoms dissipated, I figured I was out of the woods and able to run just fine.  I hit up the Alum Creek Intermediate bike path with Robbie Gannon that Saturday, and was shocked at how difficult it was to breathe.  It was like someone shoved a sock in my mouth.  I was reduced to walking every quarter mile.  Knowing this was not normal, I opted not to run Great Seal the following day and ended up going to the doctor on Monday.  I was diagnosed with bronchitis and received antibiotics and an inhaler to use for a week.  When I get sick, I am used to being out of it for a day or two, and then I am fine.  This extended period of ick was not the norm for me. 

By the following weekend, I was feeling much better.  I ran with Kat at Dublin on Saturday and though I felt weak, I had a good run.  On Sunday, a few of the gang were going to Great Seal again.  I met up with Julie and Lisa and together we pulled out 20 very hilly miles in the cold.  I still felt a bit weak, but I kept my pace reasonable and managed to get a solid 6.5 hour run in, with over 3300 feet of climb.  That run was a keeper.  We topped it off with a feast at Bob Evans after and I went home feeling very encouraged.

Then the wheels started coming off.  January 2012 in Ohio was a very bizarre month for weather.  We would oscillate between bitter cold and spring-like temperatures all within a matter of days.  This was wreaking havoc on my immune system.  The week after Great Seal was a run at Clear Creek where I had hoped for another 20 miles. Within three miles, I was falling behind, walking more than I should and feeling weak,  headachy, and to top it off, I was nauseous.  WTF??  The trail was a sheet of ice too, which made for an extra challenge.  I ended up alone after 6 miles and managed to crawl back to my car and left after 10.5 miles. 

The following week, I was back at Mohican.  We were supposed to do the upper 25K loop as an official training run for Forget the PR.  I ended up somehow with Terri Lemke again, and by the time we made it to Covered Bridge, she decided to take the group on the mountain bike trail, rather than continue on the purple loop.  Well, I had no idea where we were going, or how long it would take to get there, but before long, I was alone, feeling just as I had a week before.  To make matters worse, the Pearl Izumi shoes I was wearing were causing my left arch to cramp, and the pain shot right up my leg into my hamstring.  I limped a solid three miles as the winds picked up, and eventually just sat down on the trail and started to cry.  I questioned myself as to why I was trying so damn hard to pursue something that comes with so much challenge for me.  I mean, everyone else can just hit the trail and bust out 20, 30 miles like it is nothing.  I was 13 miles into my run and ready to die.  I came close to swearing off ultras, but I also remembered that low points are part of the game.  Kat has told me many stories of her own crying fits on the trail.  It's not that they happen, but how one responds to them.  Well, I had a pretty good cry, and once it was over, I stood up and reminded myself that "relentless forward progress" was what needed to happen, or I'd be in the woods forever.  So, I started going.  Pretty soon, I managed to find my run again.  It hurt, it was slow, but it came back.  I had always wondered how that happens.  Now, I don't have to wonder anymore in terms of a race.  I ended up with 19 miles in just over 4.5 hours in spite of all the walking.  Most importantly, I learned to weather the bad spots of a long and hard run. 

That run was two weeks ago and stands as my last long run to date.  I didn't run long last weekend as I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Kim before she left for a 6-week work trip to Pacific Asia.  I ended up seeing the doctor again for the headaches and nausea and took a course of prednisone to try and eliminate any remaining inflammation in my sinuses. Apparently, my blood pressure has been sky high for the entire month, and if it did not come down once I was feeling better, I'd have to go on meds due to my family history.  Hell no!  One of the very reasons I pursue all this running business is to keep my blood pressure in a healthy range.  I am 37 years old and run a lot.  I will not take medication at this time to control my blood pressure, thanks!  I am happy to report that a re-check of my blood pressure on Friday showed normal numbers: 120/74.  Booyah! Take THAT, genetics!

So, here we are on Sunday, February 12, 2012.  I will not run long this weekend, either.  I don't know what I did or how it happened, but my right soleus is is incredibly tight.  It actually makes walking abnormal, much less running.  I was supposed to go to Mohican for a training run on the lower loop of the 50K course yesterday, but I was gun-shy about making the trip.  My run on Turtle Thursday was not so great - both legs were extremely tight and it made running very uncomfortable if not painful.  I did not want to drive all the way to Mohican in the cold and ice just to have to bail out early, or, worse yet, end up suffering like last time.  Instead, I went to Sharon Woods with the intention of two laps around the park (7.6 miles) to assess my legs and then aim for 20 at Highbanks today.  After one loop at Sharon Woods, I was done. At least this time it was just the right calf, but things did not feel right at all.  I was tight and my form was awkward.  I remember a similar feeling last winter and I ended up running through it as I didn't want to miss precious training time.  All day yesterday I hemmed and hawed about whether I should attempt my long run.  I massaged the calf, did yoga, took a warm epsom bath...I decided if it was still tight in the morning, I would err on the side of caution.  Well, here I am, blogging instead of running.  I don't know what the heck is going on!  My running is so much less than it was a year ago.  I put in less mileage, I only run long every other week, and I am not doing any quality like tempo runs, etc.  My mind is boggled.  I am a tad frustrated but am trying to maintain a positive frame of mind and look at the big picture.  If I push it now, I could end up not starting the race again.  I'd rather be undertrained and able to start the race, than to be injured and not have a chance to try.  Truly, this 50K is going to be a test of my mental strength, as it is clear I am not going to be as physically trained as I would like.  So, I am going to head to the gym in a bit and do some pool work and either hit the elliptical or the bike.  The one thing I need to change this year from last year is that if I can't run, I need to do something to maintain fitness. 

So, That's where I am at.  I am praying that actually listening to my body will keep my from a full-blown injury.  I am trying to be patient with myself, but I am really wanting a stretch of feel-good running.  It's like my body is testing me to see how bad I really want this ultra.  At this point, it's personal.  I am not going to give up this quest.  The gauntlet has been thrown.  I WILL make it to race day, and I WILL get that buckle!! Ya hear me, body?? 

Off to the gym.

The Week in Review

The icing on the cake to last week's Bigfoot debacle was that I managed to set a post-injury, post-surgery mileage PR of 42 miles.  This was huge in that, in my mind, getting to the over-40 mileage hump means being "back" and ready for some serious training.  In spite of Bigfoot being a bust, I had a good thing going in that I was getting my miles back.  It was something from which to build.  

After the Bigfoot loops, I managed to drag my weary and frustrated arse to Sharon Woods the next day for a few recovery miles.  I set my mind on doing 4 easy miles, just enough to loosen up and flush out the musculature. The first two miles were tough as I felt all stiff and wooden, but by the end, I felt like I could have done another 4 miles, and actually had to stop myself from doing so.  I am a huge believer in recovery runs after a hard effort.  They have really worked for me as long as they are done super slow and easy.  I felt so much more relaxed after this run.  I was really pumped about riding the mileage momentum I had created this week into the next week. 

I took Monday off as a rest day, and planned to run around 7 miles on Tuesday at Three Creeks after work before it got dark.  Those plans changed when Lisa Fine, a very sweet and totally badass ultra runner friend of Kathy's, was planning to run Highbanks that evening after dark and was looking for other runners to join in.  I could not pass an opportunity to go off-road, in the dark, with a new running companion!  I met Lisa at Kathy's post-Umstead celebration and had been looking forward to running with her for some time.  She is the very kind of positive, bright spirit that I am drawn to, and I had no doubts that our run would be a huge boost for me.  We met at 5:15, donned our headlamps and took off into the woods as the sun slowly made its decent into the horizon.  The first two miles were hilarious as I was DYING trying to keep up with Lisa.  Since so many of my runs are littered with struggle these days, I just attributed the death to my lack of conditioning and a nod to her supreme fitness.  We ran the first big hill that we met with vigor, but by the time we started ascending the second hill, I asked for a walk break as I knew this run would be over quickly if we did not take a rest.  Lisa's response was along the lines of "thank God" and she accused me of pushing the pace.  ME?  Pushing the pace?!?  Ha! We then agreed to take it easy and conversational from then on, and enjoyed the rest of the run pretending we were kicking ass and taking names in the middle-of-the-night portion of a long ultra race :).  It was an awesome 6.7 miles and a run that WILL be repeated many times throughout the coming winter. 

Momentum came to a screeching halt the next day when I managed to feel sick after eating a week-old cherry crumb pie.  Yes, I blame pie for leaving me sick to my stomach and curled up in a ball on the couch.  So no run Wednesday.  Thursdays are usually guaranteed run days for me no matter how my week is going, as it is Turtle Thursday, but this week I was babysitting for a friend, so I wouldn't be at the run.  I got home late, so I decided to wait until Friday to run.  I normally take Fridays as rest days, but this week I had the day off, so I could run earlier in the day so as not to interfere with my Saturday morning group run at Westerville.  I had a 10 am massage scheduled with Catherine McMonigle, the BEST massage therapist a runner could ask for.  We were going to work on my right leg in order to get some of the swelling down and the scar tissue worked out from my surgery.  I had hoped to get the run in after the massage.  Well, long story short, the work that was done, while helpful as always, left me very bruised and sore.  I opted to take yet ANOTHER day off from running as not to hurt myself by pushing it.  I'd just save myself for the next day at Westerville.

I should know by now that when I get deep tissue work done on my legs, I am more sore the next day than the day of the massage.  I had planned 10-15 miles on the roads of Westerville; 15 if I were feeling great, 10 if I felt like schit.  Well, I would have gladly taken feeling like schit.  That run felt like the very first time I ever ran.  I was so incredibly stiff and sore; I just could not push through it.  I kept getting aches and pains in the leg that I darn well knew were related to the massage, but nonetheless they made me paranoid, like I was just a step away from my next big injury.  With a mind full of fear weighing me down, I cut my run to 7.3 miles.  I went home feeling very frustrated; not that I cut my run short, but that I really do not know how to reconcile recovery and re-injury.  After a year of dealing with a multitude if injuries and setbacks, I am absolutely paranoid about every ache, pain, and niggle.  I don't know what I can run through and what I can't.  Have you heard of the phrase, "when in doubt, don't"?  Well, I run by that mantra now, and it is keeping my psyche as fragile as a China doll. 

So, how do I keep this China doll from breaking?  I think it will come with time, of course.  I also need to get and keep consistent with my running.  And I REALLY need some confidence.  All of these craptacular, disappointing runs are taking a toll.  I need some mojo, baby!  So, at the suggestion of my friend Sarah, I decided to enter the Salt Fork 10 miler.  It is the Bigfoot loop run in reverse the day before Bigfoot itself.  I think a solid, shorter trail race is just the tonic to get my ego back on track.  Since I have trained extensively on the loop, I think I can do well at this race.  And it would be nice for all the time I spent training there to be worth something.  So, on December 3, 2011, I pray that the universe will bless my legs with a race that puts Humpty back together again. 

I write this blog post after a strong, painless 6 mile trail run with my Kimberly today.  Looks like I am already on my way...

Comeback: Denied

In my quest to make something out of nothing (ie, finish Bigfoot 50K on scant training), I took a solo trip to Salt Fork State Park yesterday to run two loops of the Bigfoot course.  I needed to know that I could run these two loops slow enough to be both enjoyable and conducive to a race finish.  The race is three 10.4 mile loops, starting and finishing from the Lodge.  I figured if I could make it through two loops of the course in decent shape, a December 4th finish would be within reach and would complete my comeback from injuries.  I had thought about making this a group run, but last week I had organized a run that had some disastrous outcomes (had to move the location due to hunters, then a sprained ankle by a participant, and then Garmin death) which were distracting enough that I did not get in my planned distance.  I needed to concentrate on getting my miles, pace, and nutrition right.  Plus, I wanted to sleep in and not worry about meeting anyone at a particular time.  So, I left home at 10am, and started my first loop at 12:01pm.  I was fortunate enough to run into Kimba prior to my run, and let her know of my plans for the day.  Since I was running solo, I told her I would check in with her via Facebook so that someone knew my whereabouts and that I was OK.  She lives very close to the park, so if I had issues, she'd be in the best position to help a sista' out. 

I was both anticipating and dreading this run at the same time.  Twenty miles was longer than I had gone in months and the prospect of hours alone on the trail just seemed tedious.  Having other runners with me usually breaks up the monotony.  It was obvious I would be working on building my mental muscles as well as my physical ones today.  My legs felt good at the start, which is a good thing as the course starts off as a long downhill.  Once I was along the lake, I took in the sunshine and views. The course is mostly flat with a few little rollers in the first mile and a half.  I committed to walking all hills and inclines in order to help boost my endurance and to get practice with fast-hiking uphill.  Just prior to two miles in, the trail diverges and continues on bridle trail. And with bridle trail comes horses, and with horses, comes horse poop.  But the poop is not as big of a deal as the MUD that is created on the trail.  My experience with bridle trails is that they are all giant mudfests, and the Bigfoot course is largely run on bridle trails and therefore no exception:

Leaf-covered mud

Sole (or rather SOUL)-sucking mud

I had a great pacing strategy in place for hills (ie, WALK), but for the mud, I decided to blaze right through it.  I love getting muddy, and it was fun to splash through the squishy mud.  About 3 miles in, a couple of runners caught me walking up one of the longer hills.  I was amazed that they could run up the hill; I definitely was in no shape for that.  I caught up to them fairly shortly after they passed me as we all had to stop and wait for some horses to pass by.  I chatted with them briefly; the guy's name was Brett and he was running to support his girlfriend Lauren, who would be running Bigfoot.  It would be her first ultra.  We ended up sharing the next couple miles and some conversation.  Lauren had completed 7 marathons, but did not have a lot of trail experience.  She was also running the trail in Vibrams and her feet were already starting to suffer.  I offered some lube and tape for her feet, which she declined.  She remarked about the run being a little harder than anticipated.  I advised that she practice walking the hills, which she'd been trying to run up until that point.  By the time we reached the left turn at about 4.8 miles to go off the bridle trail, I had started to pull ahead of them. By the time I reached the road at the top of the steepest hill on the course, they were nowhere in sight.  I then felt pretty proud of my power-climbing skills, as they may be. 

I had run a loop of this course a couple weeks earlier with Kimba, and was then pleasantly surprised about the 1.25 mile stretch of road right in the middle of the course.  Usually, pavement in a trail race is not categorically pleasant, but given the effect of the mud, hills, and muddy hills in the first half of the course, the pavement offered a welcome reprieve in the form of flat fastness. I learned in that loop with Kimba that time lost climbing hills could be made up here.  So today, even though I was a little fatigued, I took full advantage of the road.  I hit up the road portion at about a 9:30 pace and dropped my overall pace by about a minute per mile. Yes!  That is how it's a-gonna get done!  I was relieved to get back on the trail and find that my road run did not seem to tire me out for the trail.  Even when I was walking up hills, my average pace was not declining.  YES! Encouraged, I ran the flats and downhills with a light and happy heart.  I finished loop 1 feeling awesome in 2:19, about a 13:45 pace. 

Aaaaand then it was time for loop 2.  I do know I was in no mood for a second loop.  One loop felt like enough training for a day, thank you.  But, I had to go back out and do it all again.  I will say that I am no fan of loops.  It is mentally taxing and something that will take time and effort to get over.  The benefit of loops though, is knowing exactly what to expect and therefore how to plan your attack.  My plan: more walking.  I had determined that much of my fatigue was from running through the mud in the first loop, so in order to be able to make it through loop 2, I needed to slow down and work less hard.  So, I decided to pay more attention to the scenery and take pictures and just enjoy the beauty of the day:

 

 

 At about mile 12, I received a phone call from Switzerland.  My Kimberly!!  She had been gone all week on a business trip and had just returned from dinner and was ready to crash for the night (it was after 8pm where she was).  I was happy to hear from her and also grateful for an excuse to walk for a while.  I chatted with her until I was finally walking up a large hill and made what might have been my fatal mistake for the day:  I sat down.  After about 15 minutes of conversation, we hung up and I continued on my way.  Only now, I was all off.  Everything in my body started screaming at me.  Even walking hurt.  WTF??  I know the whole "beware the chair" in long ultras, but a sit-down at 12.5 miles should NOT induce this effect.  I ran and walked until I finally reached the road part of the loop.  By then, it hurt to run.  @#$%!!!  So I walked/jogged the road.  By the time I got back on the trail, I figured I'd just walk it in on the road when I got to the archery range.  I was hopeful that it would be shorter to just take the road back to the Lodge, rather than the trail.  WRONG!  It was just as far.  At least if I stayed on the trail, I'd know where I was and I could have probably made it back faster running down the hills.  As I walked the road, I kept hoping that I'd see the Lodge just around the next turn, and then the next...I was getting really discouraged.  Many times I thought of just lying down on the side of the road to take a nap.  I remembered when I went on a five mile run in Tennessee last fall and two old ladies stopped and offered me a ride out of the blue. Oh how I longed for those old ladies now!  I must've been passed by two dozen cars as I walked along the road and not one of them stopped to offer me a ride.  Those bastards!

I finally made it back to my car with a 20.15 mile run/walk that totaled 5 hours, 9 minutes.  Loop 2 had taken 2 hours and 50 minutes.  Yikes.  I drove home searching for reasons why things went so horribly wrong in the second loop, and the same answer kept creeping back up:  fitness, or lack thereof.  I am just not in shape to do a 50K right now.  Yes, the mud sucked.  Yes, there were hills.  But there is no denying that my endurance is just not up to snuff.  Endurance is something that cannot be faked, and it certainly cannot be developed via cramming long runs.  I was hopeful I could run slow enough to make things pleasant for the majority of the race.  There is a difference between a slow enjoyable pace and a slow miserable pace.  I simply cannot go any slower than my 15:22 overall pace today, which is right at the cutoff.  I need to bag Bigfoot. 

While I am disappointed for my second consecutive 50K DNS, I am encouraged by many things about my run today.  Number one, I pushed myself to 20 miles (OK, so I did try to worm out of it, but I am ignoring the means and celebrating the end!).  Number two, aside from my phone break with Kim, I did not stop moving.  And believe me, I wanted to stop!  But, relentless forward progress is the name of the game in ultras, and the opportunity to work on that in a shorter training run is a welcome stimulus.  I am a believer that the struggles in training can only help on race day, so bring it on!  Number three, I had no issues with my nutrition.  I spent five hours consuming Take 5 candy bars, Honey Stinger waffles, and strawberry Clif Shots.  The candy was a little much, but alternating waffles/gels every half hour worked well. Number four, I now know where I stand in terms of fitness, and what I have to do to get where I want to be.  I'll look forward to attempt #3 at Forget the PR in the spring with smart, focused training over the winter.  Lastly, I got to play all day in the MUD!!  Who can argue with that? 

Muddy feet = happy feet!

Getting Back Up to Speed: Injury, Surgery, and Hopefully, a Comeback

Most of 2011 has been a struggle for me on the injury front, which started in the spring as I was training for my first 50K.  I was very determined to train for this very tough 50K, Forget the PR, as "properly" as possible.  So, long story short, I upped my mileage and also started throwing back-to-back long runs in there.  Every weekend.  I'd do a faster-than-I-should medium long run with the Saturday group at Westerville on flat pavement, then go do hours long trail runs with my friends on Sunday.  For the most part, I did it like this every weekend.  By February, I had developed peroneal tendinitis, which I ran through until I developed a soleus that was so tight, it was creating intense calcaneal pain.  I could not run through that, so I took time off and went to PT.  As soon as that felt better, I was running again.  I managed to do a wicked 20-miler at Great Seal State Park where we ascended Sugarloaf Mountain twice.  I was walking backwards down steps for the next 4 days after that run, but otherwise felt it went well.  Then came Kathy's run at Umstead, where my pacing her last 25 miles would serve as my longest training run for Forget the PR.  Within 10 miles, I had damaged the right lateral quad and simultaneously developed ITBS that prevented me from running downhill, it was so painful.  Thankfully, I was able to complete my pacing duties as Kathy was mostly walking by that time. However, the damage was done and I needed almost 6 weeks off from running to heal and rehab.  I missed Forget the PR and ended up volunteering instead (which was a wonderful experience!).  I was very blessed that Rob Powell, the race director, offered to comp my entry into 2012's race for my service. 

By mid-May, I was able to start running again.  I did not have a race on the calendar, so there was no pressure to run any more than what my body said I could run.  Man, talk about starting over!  It was so hard!  But, it started to come back fairly quickly, and I was feeling good.  I decided that I needed something to train for, and that is when I opted to sign up for YUTC.  A 15.5 mile trail run was a reasonable goal, and the entry fee was low enough that should I relapse into injury mode, I would not lose a lot of cash.  By the beginning of September, I had pushed my mileage back up into the upper 30's and was feeling confident.   Although I had promised myself no ultras or marathons for the rest of the year, I could not help but notice that Bigfoot 50K was December 4.  Heck, that is like almost next year, right?  It was far enough away that I could train conservatively and shoot for a time in the 7 hour range (the cutoff is 8 hours).  The course has a reputation for mud, but it does not have the big hills like Mohican.  I thought it to be totally doable, so I decided to bite the bullet and register, excited that I would complete my comeback and still land my first 50K finish in 2011 after all.

Well, wouldn't you know it, my body had other plans for me once I secured my space in Bigfoot.  Literally within a week of my registration, I started having awful bone pains in my right tibia.  I had broken that tibia and fibula in 2007, and had a rod and screws surgically placed in the tibia to help heal the fracture.  I wasn't a runner when this injury occurred (I slipped on some ice with my arms full of groceries and the rotational torque snapped my leg like a twig), but ever since I started running, I have had all sorts of issues with tightness, soreness, and injury in this leg.   For the record, my left leg has NEVER given me problems.  I had always harbored suspicions that my issues with my right leg had roots with the surgery and hardware.  Last winter, I had given thought to having the hardware removed, but as with any surgery, there are risks involved.  Instead, I opted to work on strengthening exercises to try and correct my imbalanced and weak right side.  However, the bone pain sent some serious red flags that were screaming stress fracture.  After having so many injuries this year, I was pretty paranoid over any weird pain or niggle as it was.  The last thing I wanted was a stress fracture and more weeks off from running, so I made an appointment with the ortho who performed the initial surgery for an assessment.  He determined that I probably did not have a stress fracture, but did note the tightness and inflammation in my leg and surmised that I was indeed at risk for a fracture.   We discussed my hardware in the leg and their possible role in my troubles.  He agreed that the screws that were drilled into my tibia could be causing my symptoms.  Of course, he could not be 100% certain.  After some discussion, he felt that removing the screws were a good course of action.  I asked about waiting until after Bigfoot as I did not want to interrupt my training.  He pretty much told me that the likelihood of me making it to the race without the surgery might be less than with it.  He assured me that the recovery was significantly less than the initial surgery, since there is no bone to heal.  As fast as the incisions healed and the swelling dissipated, I'd be back at it.  So, on September 26, I went ahead and had the screws removed.  

My screws were blue!

 As my doctor had assured me, the surgery was no big deal.  In fact, with a surgery time of 7am, I ended up being home before 10am!  I walked with the aid of crutches for a day, and was able to walk semi-normally two days post-op.  The swelling in my leg was pretty painful, though.  What was reassuring though, was that the tissues that surrounded the screws were so irritated from the surgery that they reproduced the pain that was the source of my initial complaint.  That led me to believe I may have done the right thing by having the surgery.  Even if it fixed nothing, at least I no longer had to wonder if the screws are the problem.  However, fingers are crossed that this is the big fix for me.  The rod is still in my leg, by the way, and will likely stay there forever.  It is fused to my bone and removal is a pretty violent and therefore risky surgery.  No thank you!  As of this post, I still have a tiny bit of swelling and soreness in the leg, but it mostly feels like normal.  Biggest negative consequence of the surgery is that I have a lump of scar tissue near the ankle. I am hoping to see my favorite chiropractor, Dr. Kyle Alexander, for some Graston to help break that up once it is no longer sore. 

So, now lies the question of whether my comeback race at Bigfoot will happen.  I had to take two weeks off running, and then essentially do a reverse taper to get my mileage back up.  So make that a month of lost training.   As of now, I plan to at least start the race.   The race director did institute a deferral and bib transfer policy as of yesterday, so I am wondering about waiting until next year.  Though there is nothing wrong with a DNF, my smart side says wait until next year and run a good race and actually finish.  But my stubborn side does not want to throw in the towel.  We'll see who wins.  No matter what, though, I am ready to move on from being a regular on the DL this year.  Praying for a 2012 of being able to at least START all my races!

Bitten by the Race Bug (YUTC Race Report)

Two weeks ago, I had the pleasure of running one of the most wonderful races of my short running career, the Youngstown Ultra Trail Classic, or YUT-C, as it is more commonly referred.  I had signed up for the 25K, as I wasn't sure that I wanted to train through the summer heat and work obligations for a 50K.  I had anticipated this race all summer as it would mark my first non-winter trail race and it was held in Mill Creek Park in Youngstown, Ohio. As a Mahoning Valley native that graduated from nearby Hubbard High School, the opportunity to enjoy a trail race on my old stomping grounds was not to be missed. And, of course, I have slowly been finding myself drawn in by the awesome trail running community in Ohio. 

Since the race was a three hour drive from my current abode in Columbus, I opted drive up the night before and stay with my mother in Hubbard *insert Old Mother Hubbard joke here*.  Francesco's pizza, the BEST Sicilian-style pizza in Northeast Ohio, was on the menu as my pre-race meal. I was happy to learn that my younger sister Brittany, an avid runner in her own right, was willing to get out of bed early on a Saturday morning to cheer me on. By 10:30, we had said our good-nights and I headed up to bed. 

In spite of a relatively late race time of 8am, I was awake at 5:30am. I am one of those morning runners that needs lots of time to eat, digest, dress, and generally wake up before hitting the trail. This is precisely why I do not run in the morning before work...I'd have to get up at 2:30am to fit it all in!  I had my usual pre-run breakfast of scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, toast, a banana, juice, and a half cup of black coffee. I like having a solid meal before I run, and I have learned that the protein in the eggs helps with satiety throughout my run. Since I have spent so much of the year recovering from various injuries, I decided to go all out on the lower body compression wear. I wore my CW-X compression shorts and a pair of CEP calf sleeves. Since the only pair of trail shoes that I owned, Brooks Cascadias, did not offer enough support for me, I decided to run the race in my Mizuno Inspires, which are road shoes. Lately, I am realizing that while lots of cushioning feels great initially, over the long haul, a firmer shoe such as the Inspire seems to serve me much better. I didn't think that Mill Creeks Park's trails would be such that a trail shoe would be needed anyway. The biggest part of my wardrobe was not what I wore, but what I didn't wear. I still have not replaced my Garmin 405 that crapped out on me a month and a half ago, so I decided to go "old school" and wear a good old fashioned Timex watch. I'd be running based on effort, not on feedback from a GPS. I was actually quite interested in how I'd do using that technique...you know, running on feel. The race wear was capped out with my Central Ohio Trail Runners shirt that Kat gifted me at Umstead, and a visor as opposed to a hat so I would not overheat.

At 6:40am I picked up Brittany and we made our way to the Fellows Riverside Gardens part of Mill Creek Park. One thing that astounded me was how quick of a drive it was from Hubbard. I haven't lived in the area for over 12 years, and back then everything always seemed to be so far away from where we lived, but we were literally parking the car in about 15 minutes. Nice. We walked from my car down behind the gardens to the Old Log Cabin where the start/finish was located. I picked up my race packet, pinned on my race number, and then walked back up to my car to pack away my goodie bag. On the way up, we ran into Mike Keller, another central Ohio trail runner who I had met while pacing Kat at Umstead. Once we got back down to the start/finish, people I knew started coming out of the woodwork - Linda from Turtle Thursdays, Mark Carroll, Kimba...this is one of the things I have come to enjoy about trail races very quickly: they are like family reunions! And I meet more new awesome people every time I get out and run.

After a few parting words from Bob Combs, the race director, we were finally on our way. The morning was beautiful - around 60 degrees and partly cloudy. It was truly a perfect day for a race like this. The first part of the race is on pavement for about a half mile or so before hitting a steep iron stair case. Of course, since I always take my rightful starting place near the back of the pack, this meant that there was a huge bottleneck of people waiting to go up. One thing I have learned early on with trail races is that in the beginning of the race, it is extra crowded and it takes time for the pack to thin out. Thankfully, I was in no big hurry and was fine with the crowd. Once we summitted the stairs, we were finally on some single track.

The trail along Lake Glacier was full of small ascents and descents. It was a little more slippery than I had anticipated, so for a few moments I had wondered if road shoes were a good idea. I am still not very confident on trail yet; and since the trail was still crowded, I didn't want to take the chance of falling into someone and potentially ruining their day. Again, I had to be patient. We finally had a couple good walking hills; one of which was considerably pitched. At the top of this hill lies what I later learned was referred to as the "Love Log". Apparently this moniker was derived via the most common technique used to get over the obstacle: you literally have to belly crawl over it, and it looks kinda like you're giving the log a little lovin' ;).  At least, that was MY interpretation of the name. 

Once we were past Lake Glacier,  we were then running along side Lake Cohasset, where the trail was flatter, but suddenly full of rocks and roots. I really wanted to take off a little here, but again I was very apprehensive. Since most of my technical trail running took place over the winter when the snow packed in obstacles such as rocks and roots, I wasn't well-practiced in the art of not face-planting. Since I really wanted to get out of the race intact, I slowed down as to minimize my chances of taking a spill. Finally, after an hour of running, I arrived at the covered bridge aid station, which was about 4 miles into the race. Well, 4 miles an hour was pretty slow-going, so I was hoping that the aid stop would thin the crowd a little. I refilled my water and got on my merry way.

Getting a refill at the Covered Bridge Aid Station. Photo credit: Jeff Musick

Once I left the aid station at the covered bridge, my wish was granted: the throngs of people had finally thinned out! I was sufficiently warmed up and feeling a bit more confident, so I was ready to see what I was made of with loop 1 around Lake Newport. I made my way into the woods and picked up the pace. I felt really good at this point and wasn't too worried about going too fast...it was only 25K! I was doing a much better job of negotiating the obstacles on the trail; I actually felt nimble and in control as opposed to my usual state of clumsy and uncoordinated. I cruised along the water and side-stepped a large root mass when suddenly I felt a searing, tearing pain in my right peroneal muscles (lower side of the leg in front of the calf). Oh #$%^!!! I was certain I had torn the muscle. The pain ached and burned like nothing I had ever felt. It took my breath away. I pulled off the trail for a moment to collect myself and to decide what I wanted to do about the situation. I could turn around and walk back to the aid station and just drop. No, I am NOT dropping out of a freakin' 25K race. I'd barely made it 5 miles for Pete's sake! So, I got back on the trail and decided to walk for a few and see how the leg felt. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought it was. It really hurt, but I seemed to be OK walking, so I tried to jog a bit. It hurt, but the pain was tolerable. I decided to just run very delicately and see what happens. In the back of my mind, I felt I was once again being foolish. I mean, I am really going to try to run with a torn muscle?!? On trail??? But, I hadn't arrived at the starting line of a goal race all year healthy enough to finish, and I was so looking forward to this race. I had to try to stick it out, even if it was stupid. If the pain was excruciating by the time I got back to the covered bridge, I would call it a day. Good plan.

So, I started jogging along, with all sorts of anxiety-ridden thoughts mulling around in my head: What if my leg was really hurt bad? How much rehab will I need? Will I at least be able to do a spring 50K? Maybe trail running isn't for me; I can't even make it 5 miles without hurting myself! As all this dialogue was fluttering about in my brain, I realized that I had run at least 2-2.5 miles. While the pain was steadily increasing, it really wasn't affected by the running all that much. Odd. I really didn't want to pull down the compression sleeve on my calf to look at the damage; I had convinced myself that the sleeve was probably holding my musculature in place and that to remove the sleeve would be to cripple myself for life.  Well, I had to look. I stopped at a footbridge over a small stream and peeled the stocking away. There, on the side of my leg was a red swelling with a huge bloody hole at the top. I didn't tear anything...I got stung by something. Something NASTY! HAPPY DAY!!!!! I had never been so excited to have been attacked by nature in my life. I wasn't injured at all. I was just having a really painful response to the venom in my leg. I seriously felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders and from there I took off down the trail feeling so much better about everything.

Have you ever given yourself a paper cut and not realized it? And when you suddenly realize the cut is there, it is THAT precise moment when it starts to hurt? Well, the sting hurt a bit before I discovered what it really was, but it REALLY started to become excruciating after I looked at it.  I had told myself before that I really needed to learn to run through pain, so I guess I was going to get schooled today! I continued to amble along the trail when the harsh breeze of the 50K race leader blew by me on his second lap around Lake Newport. I got lapped. Talk about getting schooled! A few moments later, I felt a quick pat on my shoulder and heard the words "nice work" as Shaun Pope, who was currently a short distance behind the dude who blew by me a few moments earlier, also made his way to pass me. Shaun is seriously one of the nicest young men I have encountered in any race, and the fact that he would make it a point to encourage me while in a dog fight of his own meant a lot to me. Shaun passed me so quick that I didn't have a chance to offer my own encouragement, but in my head I was willing him to win this thing. I watched in amazement as he went bouncing down the next hill with such fearlessness! I noticed that in many of the other front runners that eventually lapped me: they had no fear of the trail whatsoever. They ran across those knarly trails so smoothly, you'd think they were on flat pavement and not on trail. As I meekly tip-toed down the little hill Shaun just attacked with abandon, I made a mental note to myself:  learn to run FEARLESSLY. 

Trying to run fearlessly! Photo credit: Jeff Musick

As I continued on through the rest of the loop, I caught up to a young lady named Courtney, who I had met earlier in the race. I told her of my encounter with the demon hornet from hell (seriously, what WAS that thing??), as I thought it would be helpful for someone to know what happened in case I had a delayed allergic reaction and passed out on the trail. We ended up sharing the rest of the loop together. When we rolled back into the covered bridge aid station, I told the volunteers of my situation with the sting and asked if they had anything at all for the pain that was still getting worse and worse. Thankfully, they had bee sting sticks, and one of the awesome volunteers lubed up my leg with the stuff. I again refilled my water and looked forward to loop 2 with just a little bit of paranoia. I knew I would have to revisit the scene of the crime and I was hopeful that lightening would not strike twice with regards to the hornets. Apparently, ground hornets abound in the park this time of year, and I am not the first person to get stung in the history of the race.  I told myself that I needed to quit worrying and get going. It was just a little bug bite! Really! As an aside, I managed the 4 mile loop in just around 40 minutes. With all the drama that took place during the loop, I was pretty speedy, at least for me. Win!

Getting ready to attack loop 2! Photo credit: Sharon Dimuzio

Loop number two was fairly uneventful. I made it through the part of the course where I got stung earlier without incident and the pain in my leg was finally starting to lessen. For as crowded as the trail was earlier, I was completely alone now. I was finally starting to notice that I was also feeling a little fatigued. I took my second gel - a Honey Stinger (irony, much?) - and waited for the boost to kick in.  As I ran and waited, I encountered Linda Reeder, who had attended a few of our Turtle Thursday runs with the Cbus Pacers over the winter.  She was walking and was very emotional as she had taken a nasty fall earlier and had scraped up her hand. I walked with her for a while and tried my best to lift her spirits and get her running again. After between 5-10 minutes of walking, I had to get moving along. I wished Linda well and hoped that she would work through her bad patch and finish. I was dangling precariously close to having a fall of my own at this point, as I was starting to trip more and more on this loop. About halfway through the loop, I was stuck in a trail train of two guys in front of me and one woman behind me, when I suddenly stubbed my toe and went flying forward. I literally came within millimeters of having my head up the butt of the guy in front of me. Of course, that set off a litany of head-ass jokes as we all continued together on the trail. Lesson learned about following too closely :).

I finished the second Newport Lake loop in about 50 minutes. Although I had no goal but to have a good time on the course, in the back of my mind, I thought a sub-3 hour finish was doable. The Timex read about 2:30 when I made my final visit to the covered bridge before heading to the finish.  I had no idea exactly how much further I had to run before I was done, so I asked one of the volunteers, "How much farther, Papa Smurf?!" The answer was 3.5 miles. Poop. I was getting tired anyway, so I decided to walk the little stretch of road that was left before getting back on the trail. Once on the trail, I looked up ahead and noticed  Mike Keller! I bolted down the trail (fearlessly, I might add!) to catch up with him. Mike is a much more experienced and faster trail runner than I am, so if I managed to catch up to him, then he must have been having a bad race. Indeed, his stomach was not cooperating with him, as he was battling the effects of nausea. I offered to finish the race with him if he wanted some company for the rest of the race. He was all for that and I was happy to have his wit and humor along with me for the rest of my own race. We ran when Mike felt he could, and walked and joked the rest of the time.  Of course, I tripped and stumbled more than I care to mention during this part of the race. The social runner in me and the runner that is still learning the ways of the trail have not yet learned to coexist. Since I was usually running in front of Mike, anytime I had something to say to him, I would instinctively turn around to talk, which meant taking my eyes off the trail in front of me. Inevitably, I would trip and Mike would kindly remind me to keep my eyes on the trail. Yep, need to work on that. Nonetheless, I enjoyed Mike's company tremendously and was disappointed when the finish line finally came into view.  Mike, being the gentleman that he is (only after trying to elbow me off the road and drag me backwards by my water belt...haha!) allowed me to cross the line in front of him.  We finished the race in 3:16. 

Finishing the race with gentleman Mike right behind! Photo credit: Sharon Dimuzio

Given that my eyes are ultimately focused on a 50K finish, I gave myself a moment to ponder whether I could have gone any further today. Certainly the idea of another go-round of the course didn't hold a lot of appeal at the moment - 25K felt just right. I was tired, that was for certain. However, I did not fuel as though I were running a 50K. I took two gels the entire race - one per hour.  That is considerably less than what I would have consumed had I intended for 50K, so I would surmise that much of my fatigue was in part due to inadequate fueling.  And, of course, I haven't run farther than 16 miles in months, so my legs weren't completely conditioned for longer distance. All and all, I thought the race was a success. In spite of some interesting and unexpected challenges that were thrown my way, I pushed through and still managed to enjoy my time on the course. I learned that I still do have a lot to learn when it comes to trail race etiquette and technical maneuvering.  I do know that I am very hooked on trail running for the connection with nature, people, and myself. I look forward to many more off-road adventures!

Oh, and remember the nice, speedy guy Shaun, who passed me early in the race? He managed to catch the guy in front of him and won the race in a course record of 3:51. YES! I love it when nice guys finish first. Way to go Shaun!