Despite Defeat, I Still Love Trail Running

Well, things have not been going as planned.  Goals have not been met.  I’ve been sleeping a lot.  I mean A LOT.  The day before the Saddleback Marathon in fact, after disturbing dreams, I woke at 6:00 AM, got the boys off to school.  Then when I arrived home at 8:30, I went promptly back to sleep and didn’t wake until noon.  I fought against a nap all afternoon.  I was sound asleep by 9 PM.   One would have thought I would have been good and strong for Saturday’s race.  I thought so.  I left the home at 6:00 AM Saturday, anxiety-free, feeling rested.  I drank 2 cups of coffee and also about 16 ounces of carrot juice for breakfast (this is standard for me). 

The 24th year of the Saddleback Marathon was festive.  I relished the atmosphere of 75 runners prepping for a run through the Saddleback Mountains.  I did my usual 45 minute walk-about to warm up.  And while walking along the road, a car pulled over, the window rolled down and a man with a British-like accent said “You don’t know me, but I read your blog.  You’re Lauren, right?”  He said that he’d only been in the states for a couple of weeks and found a lot of these trails largely because of this blog.  Wow.  He was so kind to stop and compliment me, a stranger like that.  I felt pretty good.

My only concern was not beating or even making last year’s time.  But I felt that I would do okay.  This race is run on “my” trails after all.  I’ve run them again and again.

The start caught me off-guard with my vest half-way on.  A friendly runner whom I see at almost every race, helped me get it untangled and on as we ran from the start.  The crowd took off ahead of me which is normal.  Plus I always line-up at the back.  I wasn’t even that concerned that my energy seemed minimal at first.  I’m often a stronger finisher than I am starter.

The first 3 miles, which were most mainly uphill were unreasonably tough for me.  Surprised, I still didn’t worry too much because Trabuco Trail lay ahead.  I knew that I would gain some of the time that I lost.

I flew down Trabuco with a top pace of 8:14 (according to my garmin).  I didn’t waste any time taking photos, though I filmed a little, and I passed three runners. 

Then something happened on the way up Holy Jim.  My foot had been bothering me for a while.  But my neuroma foot has been bothering me a lot lately, and I’ve been able to run through the pain (history on that in another entry).  The weather grew warm as I made the climb.  I didn’t layer for this race.  I figured that I’d just roll up my sleeves.  But the thing was, I also didn’t re-fill fluids at the end of Trabuco.  With fluids running low, my body over heating and my foot aching, my energy seemed to seep out of me not like a leaking balloon – more like a pin stuck to a balloon.  My energy popped.  I felt nauseated.  And at times I felt a little lightheaded.  I even staggered here and there up that giant switch back. 

Then my fight with the demons began.  The battle that raged on in my head got so intense I ended up crying.  No.  Not just crying.  I was bawling while running, while running up hill.  As you can imagine, breathing became very difficult, and I nearly hyper-ventilated.  I probably would of, had two cyclists not just turned the bend.  I didn’t want them to try and help me or have any concern over me, so I immediately sucked it up. 

By the time other runners passed me, I had pulled myself together on the outside.  I told the last woman who passed me that I was out.  I was going to DNF.  I think I told her before I “officially” told myself.  From that point onward, the climb up Holy Jim was pure hell.  It took everything I had not to sit down and rest.  Saturday, that trail certainly earned its other names for me: Holy Crap and Holy Cow. 

I probably could have finished the race.  But why?  My foot ached, I felt light headed, nauseated and was losing my balance.  I can’t even go into the brutal war that was raging on in my head. I didn’t see any reason to put myself through the misery any longer.

A long time ago, after my other DNF, I told myself that if I ever DNF’d again, I would do it with dignity.  I did my crying in private.  And once the tears dried, I didn’t cry again.  I was gracious, and oh so thankful for the aid workers when I finally reached them.  I even offered to help, though they insisted that I rest.  Most importantly, I made dang sure that my drop was recorded so that no one would have to go searching for me in the mountains.

This would have been a perfect DNF with dignity had I not done one thing.  When the aid workers drove past my truck, I had them let me out there.  I did not go back to the Start/Finish line to congratulate and bid farewell to friends.  I regret that.  If there’s a next time, and there will probably be, I will not omit the last step.  If I will perfect anything, I will perfect the DNF.  LOL.

Despite defeat, I still love trail running.

This is how far I got, and though I didn’t get any photos, I did take some video.  And if you know me, you know I made a DNF video (below).

Saddleback Marathon 2012