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.