Adventures in trail running

Today, on a long-overdue vacation day from work, I woke early to hit the trails. The temperature is meant to get dangerously high today, so I wanted to knock out my miles before the heat set in.

I gathered up my things, strapped on my hydration belt, and headed to the park. My plan was to put in four miles, as yesterday's attempt at a long run was cut short when I forgot to put on bug spray.

I couldn't remember the mileage on the paths I wanted to take, but I knew I was intending to be out for an hour or so. After about a mile and a half, I reached the gate where Park became Nature Area - also county property, but not strictly maintained and used as a preserve - and I thought Why not? I glanced at the map at the boundary and it appeared there would be only one path to loop around and back to the beginning of the park.

Good enough.

With an image of that map in my mind, I crossed the gate and picked up a jog. And it was beautiful. I rounded the first curve and came face to face with a doe grazing on the path. She ran up ahead and I slowed to a walk, meeting her again around the next bend. This time, she sized me up briefly before deciding that no two-legs was worth her time, leaping off into the woods.

If this is how my run is starting, I thought, this is going to be an amazing time.

And it was, for a while, as I weaved my way through the woods, the soundtrack from Jurassic Park in my ears.

Yes, the music was every bit as perfect as I hoped it would be. Yes, I did find myself running faster at certain points in the score. And yes, I did occasionally become suspicious of sounds off the path.

Clever girl.

But after a while, I found myself at a fork in the path near a stretch of prairie. I continued right, following an arrow, and came later to a four-way intersection. I hadn't checked my time recently, but I was sure I'd be back on park land by now. I was completely lost.

Toward one path, there was a sign saying "Loop", with an arrow to the left. I sure as crap didn't want to loop, 'cause I was getting tired, so I continued straight. Surely, I was almost there.

And the path turned. And twisted. And doubled back, between pools of water and through heavy forest. I was no longer sure of where I was. At all.

I was still on the path, and the path had to eventually come out somewhere. Right?

Right?

And so it did.

Back at the sign that said "Loop". Of course.

I concluded that I must have taken the wrong way at the fork. That was the only solution. I had to go back the way I'd come, to the prairie.

I won't keep you in suspense here: I went back, took the path I'd skipped, and it led me... not where I wanted to go. I ended up at a house on a dead-end road, trimmed with signs marking the end of the nature area.

Here, I finally gave in. I pulled out my phone, which has been tracking my journey via GPS, and took a look. I'd been on the run for an hour, had covered more than four miles, and was now at the absolute farthest point from the park I could have possibly been.

Weird.

With the help of RunKeeper, I found where I needed to go. I had two choices: Go back the entire way I'd come, past where I'd seen the doe more than half an hour before, or head back to the Loop and try to find the right path.

Having no right choice before me (and really not wanting to go all the way back to the beginning), I turned around - again - and set out for the Loop. By this point, my water was already half gone and the bugs were starting to pay closer attention to me. I'd resorted to carrying my towel in my hand, swinging it around my head. Once my shoulder got tired, I laid the towel over my head and secured it with my sunglasses. If I couldn't hear the bugs in my ears, I could block them out of my mind.

When you're lost and verging on desperation, you play these little games with yourself.

Once at the Loop, I figured out which path I hadn't yet been on, and I was satisfied I was on my way home. At long last, I was right.

By the time I got back onto park land, my Jurassic Park soundtrack had looped. The Velociraptors had hatched twice, Nedry had stolen the embryos twice. John Hammond had just recounted his life's regrets over melting ice cream for the second time as I found myself back on the gravel path of the park.

And then, I was done.

All told, I was on the move for almost two hours. I finished a little over seven miles, which was three miles more than I'd ever done at one time. When I checked the GPS at the four-mile mark, my pace was where I'd expected. The longer I spent lost, though, the slower it got. I had no earthly idea how long it would take me to get back and I slowed down dramatically. I needed to conserve.

It worked. After passing the Loop for the second time, getting back on track, I still had something left. I ran on my terms, in short bursts, sprinting like a kid to the top of small hills so I could ride them down. The trees were thick and the ground was grassy, and even being lost, the beauty was overwhelming.

Worth it? You bet.

There are a few things I'll do differently next time. I'll fuel up before-hand, because doing this on a 90-cal granola bar was rough. I'll force myself to slow down when slamming my recovery drink, so maybe next time I won't almost lose it in the gas station parking lot. I'll know my maps a whole lot better.

Okay, that last one's a lie. I probably won't.

It may have only been seven miles, but for me, that's forever. That's huge. That's, like, four more weeks down the road in my training plan. And apparently, my body and mind were both more ready for it than I'd expected.

Taking tonight off from training, because even the soles of my feet ache. I took an ice bath as soon as I got home, and I expect I'll be icing intermittently all day.

And while I sit, resting my sore and pitiful self, I'll be thinking about the next run.

Playlist boredom

I've had the same playlist on my iPod for the past several months. As a creature of habit, I've done well thus far, but with my new-found love of the trails, I've been wanting something different. Something befitting the run.

So my new playlist is of note: I have loaded the Jurassic Park soundtrack onto my iPod, ready for my next trail run. I've never been quite this excited to go running.

Trail running: a new discovery

After my utterly miserable (but for one shining moment, detailed in dewy-eyed splendor in my last post) four-mile, never-say-die mostly-walk/sorta-run Saturday, I decided to check out one of the local parks. I'd heard there were trails suitable for jogging, so I got my youngest brother on board with me and we made plans for a little excursion Saturday afternoon.

And boy, am I glad we did.

Quarry Park isn't enormous, only a few miles of trails on county land. But what it offered was a little piece of nature on the edge of the city. Wooded pathways, old granite quarries for swimming and fishing, a patch of natural prairie, and enough variation to keep me interested for an afternoon.

My brother and I weren't there long, less than an hour. Not enough. So I headed back myself Sunday.

Being out on the trails alone was just what I needed. I've always been a nature girl, I suppose, always wandering away from home, striking out on my own across the corn field and into the woods behind our house, pretending to be lost for hours.

Some of my best memories were from those woods.

So it's no surprise that I've fallen in love with the park. Every day this week, sitting at my desk, I've thought of those trails. How it feels to climb the modest hills and to coast down them, not thinking of my stride or my pace, letting gravity do its thing.

It's the closest I've come to flying since being kept off horseback with my torn ACL.

And it's becoming harder and harder to simply consider running the next best thing. Truly.

These trails aren't particularly technical, but they test me differently than the road does. The road, it sits there, unrelenting, smoldering. Waiting.

The trails, they are dynamic, dancing. Welcoming.

Both are important. Both are still overwhelmingly difficult and frustrate my lack of endurance. But in the trails, I think I may have found a new home.

Last time I went out, on Tuesday night, I put away my watch and checked the time once I started to feel the drag of fatigue. It had been 48 minutes. By the time I got to my car, more than an hour had passed and I'd looped over 4.26 miles.

Magic. There's no other explanation. And I hope this brand of magic sticks around for a long time.

Passing by on a Saturday

You were the runner: Worn shoes, tech shirt, running cap, Camelbak.

I was me: Sweaty, miserable, less than halfway into my intended four-mile run.

It was just occurring to me that I shouldn't have set out at noon, when the sun was so high and the trees offered no shade. My intervals had already begun to wilt and I was considering turning back.

I had just broken into another run, trying again, when you came upon me at a jog. I tried averting my eyes, embarrassed, but I couldn't help but lift them and smile. I guess I like people too much, try as I might to not.

And you held out your hand, thumb raised, and said with such conviction: Good job, runner!

Then, we were past, and it was over.

I hope that someday, when I'm a fit and accomplished runner, I might come upon someone struggling to make their way around the block, someone with so much determination on their face and desperation in their eyes; and I hope that when I pass by, I have the presence of mind to smile and tell them how much it means.

Because as simple as it seems, it's unforgettable.

Back on the radar and catching up

Hello again! What's new?

That's as good a way as any to start a post after so long, I think.

I'd love to say that I've been quiet because I've been busy having adventures and making great progress, but the truth is that I've been spending my time sitting on the couch, watching tv and making bad choices. And then, subsequently, being upset about those choices, and immediately making more.

Etc, etc.

These spirals are sneaky. I never see them coming. I feel them when they're happening, but I feel so powerless. What's the use?

I've done good things in the past month, and I deserve to own them. I did two 5Ks, one of which I managed to blog about, the other which I didn't.

A shame, really, because it was awesome. I set a new PR over three miles, 36:00 flat, over varied terrain in a state park, and it was in the pouring rain. I'd never before run in the rain; it's not something I'd ever chosen to do, for obvious reasons. But having been forced by virtue of a race, I can safely say that it was one of the most exhilarating, wonderful experiences I've ever had on the road. The rain kept the bugs at bay and helped to regulate my body temperature. My knees were so happy!

I will run in the rain again.

I also learned a valuable lesson that day. After my three-mile PR, my body felt good. Too good. I wonder if I can set another PR today?

Do you know where this is going? You do. I know you do.

So I went to the gym that night and blazed my way through a mile on the treadmill. I was determined, and my PR of 10:41 showed it.

Know what else I accomplished? I pounded the crap out of my good knee. I was forced to take a solid week off from running as a reward for my foolishness. The day that started as such a triumph ended on a whimper - literally.

That, I think, was a deathblow to my motivation. (And my pride.)

My eating habits have been poor. I've given into cravings not just occasionally, not just often. Every day.

This is where the self-loathing comes in.

I don't think that there are bad foods. Not really. I think that any food is acceptable when taken in moderation, and different people get different results from different foods. There's nothing inherently wrong with that box of cookies I ate while hidden away in my apartment last weekend.

No, what's wrong is that these foods deter me from my goals. They're tiny, delicious roadblocks that prevent me from making progress. Losing ground on goals that mean so much to me - goals toward which I'm working so incredibly hard - is emotionally painful, and it chips away at my pride. That's where the problem lies. Not in the food, but in what those foods do to me, in practice.

I will never, ever utter the oft-used phrase that "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels". I don't care one bit about skinny. I care about my fitness. My running. I care about being an athlete, and healthful weight loss furthers this goal.

Besides, my last entry summed up rather well how likely I am to ever be "skinny". Ohlol! These hips may be getting smaller, but they're not going anywhere!

So. Having said that, I've lost a lot of ground. My most recent evaluation last week revealed that I'm down to 194 pounds. When I see that number, I'm so freakin' happy I could cry. But when I realize that number is a scant 1.5lbs lower than the previous month's eval, it's sobering.

That tiny loss isn't a reflection of how hard I didn't work, it's a reflection of how many roadblocks I laid down. How many times I tripped over them.

How much I hated myself for it.

This isn't the first time I've felt this way, and it surely won't be the last. But digging out and overcoming the feelings isn't easy, no matter how many times I've done it before.

So here I am. Next Friday (the 13th!) will mark 9 months since I started on this journey. So far, I have lost 44lbs. This is worth something.

Here, I try to get back on track. I try to stop sabotaging my progress toward my goals. I recognize that I deserve these goals and that I am the only one who can achieve them - or take them away. I decide to take control again.

Let's see how this goes, shall we?