Did you every get a sign that you shouldn't be doing something? Maybe a gut feeling, writing on the wall perhaps, basically something in nature, possibly the supernatural, going out of it's way to give guidance? Sometimes the signs are subtle and are over looked, sometimes they are obvious, but this isn't about judgement of how they were missed, ignored, or given the finger.
Three weeks ago, attempting to squeeze in last minute training for this weekend, rolled my ankle on quite possibly the clearest, most open, part of the trail. It swelled up like a tennis ball. The following week, again in the woods training, a yellow jacket stings me in the exact same ankle. Signs? While the sting itself wasn't bad and the itching was annoying, but the worst was the swelling it caused. It takes a bit for me to get concerned, but I'll admit it, I was nervous. It took three days, before it finally stopped looking like my foot was going to explode. Can't wait to see what this weekend will bring!
Roooooar! Goes the gun. Whoops, before we can get to this part. Have you ever heard a bear snore? No? Well, either have I. I can only imagine what it sounds like and what makes me bring this up is CT and I have dragged a friend with us to run this race, we'll call her Hill. The race has been postponed, currently we are all in the car, but Hill has gone back to sleep and is snoring, like a bear, in the backseat.
Two hours later, snoooooore goes the gun! For some reason I got put in wave two again. The first year that happened, I was so angry, it was as if I beast were released. Today, it was nice because there were almost no expectations, a bit like Hill's deep slumber, yawn. Believe this is year seven of doing this race, I know the course, won't bore you with minor details.
Mile eight is the race. Either turn it on here and push to the end, or put it in conservation mode and attempt to not die. Even with suspect training, my battles with Mother Nature, how I held a little back up until this point, when it got to this point, I knew there was nothing left and there wasn't even a glimmer of hope that somehow some race day magic would show up. The rest of the race was ugly, possibly more ugly than the picture for this blog.
Last year wasn't a great time for me, but I figured I'd be able to match it, nope. The hills have eyes and ugh, worst time on this course since my very first time running it. Not very proud of that and as if to mock me, when I put down a time that shouldn't deserve an age group award, what do I get? First!
Day two, how do you make a fog horn sound? Anyway, that's the starting gun for today. Only one wave today, so back to a little more crowded start. Bearly (yeah, I know, bear with me) a mile in, the pace was respectable considering we weren't even to the first big hill. Two guys were ahead of me and at least two were directly behind me. Out of nowhere, this old guy decides it's now his moment and attempts to pass all five of us at once! As Hill would say, "He ate shit!" This guy went almost full scorpion pose, face first, branches crashing, snapping, and gets up with black dirt as opposed to all the sand all over his face to signal just how much shit he ate. Not sure if it was his crazy nature to attempt something like this, or he was fueled with adrenaline or quite possibly the embarrassment, either way he bolted up ahead of us a few lengths. Passed him on the hill, of course. Everybody has to run their own race, never want to judge, but this move has me scratching my head. It is foggy, maybe it impaired his sight, judgement.
For as little mojo as I had yesterday, there's even less today. The fog does feel like something out of Jurassic Park at any moment a T-Rex or probably more likely a bear could snatch you right off the trail. Didn't even make it to mile six before I decided to shut it down. Live today, to run another day. Couple minutes slower than yesterday, which did hurt me in the age group awards, only second today.
Love this race, will be back just to undo this barely surviving.
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