One for the Road

Well, I'm back, after a weekend of debauchery (nah, just kidding, I was just at a writer's conference), and I've been aching, I mean aching to run. Actually, I hadn't planned on a run this evening, but with a new teaching assignment and having to learn the ropes this week, today was the day.

I was a little afraid, 1) because of the heat, and 2) it's the evening!  I usually can't run after a busy day.  Amazingly, even with a warm breeze, and blaring sun, and pavement beneath my feet (boy do I miss the trail), I had great fun.

Sunglasses, and ipod with the same three cd's loaded since my computer crash, I ran down the highway, up and over the pedestrian bridge where I squeezed my way through two guys stretched out smoking pot. And then I made my way, against my own advice, to the campground. I thought it might be too hot there, too smokey. Yes, it was hot, but smoky, not -- instead lovely dinner smells on the bbq.

And then I did my usual thing, ran up to the jetty, longboarders to my left simply sitting in the still waters, waiting for that wave. Egrets stalked the grounds by the fisherman who threw their lines out at the rocks, and across the marina waters, hundreds of pelicans simply sat at the filling dock, like they were sleeping or something (I couldn't tell).  All the while, I didn't stress about anything -- I just let my mind glide along with my feet.

Anyway, thru the wharf, crowded restaurants, and those lovely water fountains for refreshment along the way, I ran onto the island. I powered up that bridge to it, feeling no pain, just nice easy runnin'. Yes, I had one of those easy runs today. And when I arrived at the cliffs, where waves rather gently made their way in, the skies were dark, stars twinkled in the moonlight.

Can it get any better than that?

The night was still as I headed back, golden lights reflecting off the marina waters. Though still, the air was cool. And even though my cotton t-shirt weighed about five pounds about now (drenched with sweat), I powered up the big hill home, delighted that I could make this one for the road.

Miles logged this evening: 9.13

"Crack Baby Crack, Show me You're Real."

I can't even begin to tell you, nor do I think I will.  Nothing personal.  Let's just say at the moment:  Tough times = all the more reason to run!

A couple of quotes come to mind.   First from the only Dickens book that I've read (Tale of Two Cities):

"IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair . . . " "

Sure, I'm not facing the French Revolution.  But I can relate . . . yup, maybe we can all can relate.

And then from The Old Testament: Ecclesiastes
"To every thing there is a season, and time to every purpose under the heaven:A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance . . . "

And so there have you, my feelings, someone else's elegant words . . . as usual.   

So, what does this have to do with running, specifically trail running? As with life, when I run that tough hill, or long stretch, I can't look far ahead, I have to take the good with the bad.  And though that hill may be tough, enduring it is the real award.  I can't focus on the difficulty. Instead, I take in stride (column straight, kicking out from the back) acknowledging that this is one of the tough parts, plant one foot in front of the other and just keep on moving. (If only I could do that in real life!)  If I start to look too far ahead in my runs, keeping my eyes glued to the top of that hill, well, then, another quote comes to mind:

"Crack Baby Crack. Show me you're real. Smack, Baby Smack, is that all that you Feel?" (David Bowie, "Cracked Actor" from Aladdin Sane -- get it?  Sounds like A Lad Insane : )

That's precisely what happens if I don't stay in the immediate moment when I run -- Crack Baby Crack.  And that's precisely when I began to falter on my last race.  It's when I saw those front runners heading back up that long hill, and I began to fret about that hill probably two miles before I even got there.

STAY IN THE MOMENT AND ACCEPT WHAT IT IS.  That's what trail running has taught me more than the above quotes.  I don't always remember what I've learned.  But heck . . . it's a start.

So, even in the best of times, or the worst of times, and during every other season and purpose under heaven, I can stop that CRACK. I'll show you I'm real -- one foot in front of the other, I'm movin'. It's just life. And with life, at least I got in a run. Yes, I got to run, be it against those warm Santa Ana, westerly blowin', hot winds . . . I got in a fast (for me) relatively flat run. : ) And it was lovely,and it was forgetful, because I thought about nothing.  Nothing at all.

Miles logged this warm, warm morning: 6.0

Take a Break?

"My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there."

David Bowie, "Five Years",

Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

My note regarding the above quote: Best when said screaming, with hands pressed to head, like Edvard Munch's painting, "The Scream."

No one thought when I said I was gonna "take a break" that it meant I wasn't gonna run? Did they? : )

What I really meant was that I was gonna tone it down -- less intense runs, less weekly mileage, and a short break from the hills. That's what I really meant. : )

So, I ran 9.23 lovely, flat miles today, beneath hot sunny skies. They began laboriously, but ended joyfully. I ran along the river (nearly dry on a bike path), ran along sycamore creek trail (an exercise trail with no creek in sight, where I jumped the small hurdles twice), then made my way over to the socked-in marina, complete with cool breezes and ample water fountains.

Really grateful for the time to run. Because later today would not be so good -- I crashed my notebook computer, which is an actual extension of my body. My dog is sick, she's an old gal that I love so much. And an ink pen leaked in my purse, which isn't terrible, but it just added to it all.

What a time . . . what a time.

Heartbreak at Heartbreak Ridge Half Marathon

With the pain in my wrist acting up again, and these dang toe problems I decided to take it somewhat easy this week as far as running goes. Eleven miles on Tuesday, then it was just fun non-running workouts for the other days. Thursday, I swam. After 3,000 yards, I felt I could do more, but dried myself off nonetheless, because I've got this Writer's Conference looming ahead and lots of chores at home.

And then the wrist pain attacked without mercy. I'm referring to the injury from Santiago Truck Trail (Slam Dancin' with the Trail) and then the re-injury at Bulldog 25k. After crawling in the mudrun last week, the swimming really did my wrist in. Thursday I slept restlessly all night, waking in pain constantly.

Friday, I took the day off and immobilized my wrist. To bed by ten I had another weird, restless night of sleep, I figured that Saturday's half marathon, though a "trail" run would be relatively easy. Besides that -- I took it easy this week.

I had a long drawn-out drama dream the night before this race, about me trying to convince some adult children to attend the 4th or 5th wedding of their drunkard father. He was really in love this time and was gonna change his life. One daughter was in tears as I tried to convince her to sing at the wedding. Before I knew it, I too was bawling over the phone re: her pain. After finally convincing all the children to attend, I guzzled champagne like water, and searched a department store for an open bathroom (I couldn't find any!). Then I woke. The clock read: 7:05 AM. My half marathon started in 55 minutes, and if I didn't jump up now, drive 80 miles an hour on an empty tank, I wasn't gonna make the start line in time!!! What a morning : ( I barely had time to brush my teeth, but I made the start line with minutes to spare. Amazingly, I got a parking space right up front.

They were out of t-shirts (no big deal, I have too many anyway), and the bathroom lines were empty by now too -- as everyone was already lined up to run. I took off comfortably under cloudy skies, the first mile over asphalt complete in 0:9:40. I planned to keep that pace, maybe pick it up some. I really hoped that we'd hit the trail soon, which we did, and I was at ease. : ) I made mile 2 by 0:20:00. My pace was falling, though we were running on a slight incline.

When the tougher climb began, I ran it, not feeling too uncomfortable. In fact, I felt good. Mile three was a ten minute pace. I wanted to pick it up, hoping for more of an average of a nine something pace for the race. At about mile 4 or so, I began a fun descent on that wide dirt fire road. Thing was, the sun came out, and it came out in vengeance. Still, I felt pretty good on this out-and-back half marathon (I really don't enjoy out-and-backs, that is: run to the halfway point, then turn around and run back the same way).

At about mile 5.5 the front runners were passing us on their way back, and I realized that I had been running down hill for quite some time -- too long, in fact. I began to fret about the turnaround, knowing that I'd have to run back up this thing in the searing heat that was now weighing me down.

Just make it to the turnaround, I told myself. JUST MAKE THE TURNAROUND. Worry about the rest later. I was not in a good state of mind though this morning. Having rushed out, and having to deal with these injuries, not to mention the negative self-talk over my persistent procrastination (in general for everything, but in particular, over the writer's conference).

Well, the turnaround came much, much later than I felt it should. Already drenched in sweat, I began to resent the cute little sayings on those Mile Markers. Things like: "The Goal is Pain" -- It is so NOT the goal. It was so not the goal, that at the turnaround I downed three ibuprofens to subside my toe pain.

I don't think I have the energy to relay just how defeated I felt coming into mile eight. One guy ran by and said, "After mile 9, it's uphill for a mile, then all down hill from there." I smiled (because that's how I am, try to make nice) and made some small talk. But I thought, "what the hell is he talking about, we're running uphill right now!" At a bend, I chuckled at the Marine who said, "Just a little hill up ahead, you can do it!"

Little hill my ***.

They were really little hills compared to what I've conquered in the past. But for some reason this morning, I got beat -- completely mentally defeated. I felt like I couldn't take another step. And so I began walking the hills, as did most around me. I ran as fast as I could on the flat portions, which wasn't very fast at all. And I began to think to myself, "just walk the next 4 miles. Or maybe, just quit."

Upon reaching the high point (around mile 10) I felt relief running down hill. It was crucial though I did not fall, so I kept a keen eye on the ground. One more hit to this wrist, I'm gonna end up in the E.R.!

I don't think I could have smiled at this point if I tried. Even on the downhill, I felt I couldn't run another step. And then when we finally leveled off, I did something I thought I'd never do on the flat portion of a race -- I walked. I wanted to quit. I wanted to just walk away from the group and pretend I never started this race. I was SPENT, and doubted that I'd ever run again. I wondered, "What the hell am I doing? Could I be any bigger of a loser." (I'm sorry, but that's really how I felt, utterly and completely defeated.)

And I continued walking as fast as I could, one ambulance passing, then another up a ways loading up another runner. Marines stood out on their balconies watching us come in, and I still walked, feeling ashamed, my eyes to the ground. I mean come on -- 13.1 miles on a trail race with not even 2,000 feet of elevation gain. I can do that -- can't I?

Not today.

Then I remembered a marine yelling out, "just one more bridge to go!" I didn't recall any bridges on this race, but up ahead, I saw a bridge, and so told myself, "when you hit that bridge RUN."

I ran over that bridge, and after a turn in the now paved road, I could see the finish line balloons not too far off. I saw one female racer cut through the parking lot, shortening her run to those balloons. She must have felt like I felt -- SPENT, out of gas.

I finally crossed that finish line at 2:25:55 with the sad, sad feeling that I was finished running for good. I was reminded of Forrest in Forrest Gump when he just stopped running because he simply didn't feel like running anymore.

After crossing the finish line, I grabbed 2 waters, walked straight to the car for a quick stretch. Before leaving the marine base, I filled up the car with much less expensive gasoline than we civilians usually pay, and I drove home.

I wept at home relaying the race story to my husband. I told him that I thought I was done running. That I had been mentally beaten, to which he responded "you're no quitter . . . you just need a break."

That I do.

I guess I have made my decision. No marathon for October, and as I cut back my miles I will finally make it to the doctor for x-rays on my foot and wrist.

And that is the story of my heartbreak at Heartbreak Ridge. Who knew that the title of this race would be so apropos.

Final Standings:

I placed 32 out of 47 women ages 40 to 44.

Overall I placed 781 out of 1,079 civilians.