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I was psyched... 8->
I was also a little nervous... 8-]
Two weeks ago, Krash took me out for my very first Trail Run.
Something that I probably would never have considered doing if it
wasn't for DRS. (Those deads who came to DRSWCII would remember
the trail. It was the same one that Blair took everyone on.) I
had a great time, despite the twisted ankles and uneven terrain
(very unlike Illinois backroads).
A week later, Krash posts a _great_ report about another trail
run adventure at Lone Elk Park (just west of St. Louis) that he
had run by himself. I remember thinking how nice it must be to be
able to run for 2 1/2 hours through wooded trails. But, I had
never gone more than eight miles before, and Krash had covered a
lot more distance than that. Oh well, maybe someday...
"Someday" came a lot sooner than I thought. ;-)
Some folks may recall Krash posting an invitation to the list
to join him on the same trail that coming weekend. I replied back
with a "I would... if I could... but I've never... so I probably
won't... but I'd like to... but I probably shouldn't..." message.
Somehow it must have ended up sounding like a "yes" instead of a
"no". So, I agreed to meet Krash at his place on Sunday at
7:00am. There was also the chance that Joe Kupfererer...er might
show up as well.
The sign at the beginning of the trail said that it was 14
miles ("ohgeez. *14* miles! what am I, nuts!") out and back.
After a few preliminaries, Krash and I were off.
It was just after 7:30. The trees, with their autumn colors,
were aglow with the golden morning sun. The air was chilly and
damp. But, it felt good to finally be moving.
I continuously concentrated on my ankles, consciously placing
the inside of the heel on the ground first. I learned this from
my last trail run with Krash, after turning my left ankle twice.
If I came down normally, even a small rock would cause my ankle
to turn out. And there were a lot of rocks.
The first part of the trail was a piece of cake. There were
only a few places where the rocks were of any consequence, for
the most part we were running along soft dirt. We ran along the
river for a spell (I think it was the Meramec) which was really
nice. We saw a small tent along the shore where a couple had
camped for the night. It looked like they were just getting up.
Shortly after running past a couple of fields, we found
ourselves at the foot of our challenge. An upward climb over a
rocky hill that would eventually lead us to our halfway point. I
think Paul had said that he thought it was about 600 ft. I guess
I couldn't say for sure, but it seemed like a good part of it was
practically straight up. I took over the lead for awhile at this
point.
I found that it was much better to make the extra effort to
"run" up the hill, and then take a breather if necessary; slowing
down just made the climb that much more excruciating. There were
big loose rocks everywhere.
At the top, it was definitely time for a water break. We could
hear rustling in the leaves around us; Krash thought it might be
deer. And then, as I'm trying to wipe away the fog that is
forming on my glasses, he says "there goes one!".
"Where, where?"
Of course, I missed it. But we could still hear something just
beyond a small rise to our left, so I go marching through the
leaves looking for it, to no avail. I come back and tell Krash
"if there was anything there, its gone now. How do you get close
enough to see them anyway?"
To which replies, "I usually stand very still and let them come
by me."
"oh", I say. oops.
Coming down the other side of the hill was great. Besides the
speed, there's kind of a rush with every step you take because
you don't know if this step just might be the one that sends you
sprawling.
As we approached the bottom, there was a steep decent with a 90
degree turn to the right. I just barely made it by pushing myself
off a tree as I went by. I turned to warn Paul, but I was too
late. Krash crashed right into a tree! Smacked his left shoulder
pretty hard, although it was better than the alternative of
flying off the trail.
After that, the trail flattened out a bit and we were back to
mostly dirt. We moved along at a nice pace with Krash in front. I
began to think back to when I was kid, to the times that my folks
would take my two younger brothers and I out for hikes when we
went camping. We used to run along the paths then, totally
frustrated at how slow our parents would poke along. We were
driven to get over the next small hill in the path to see what
lay ahead. Each new discovery sent us on ahead with even greater
momentum. Until, of course, Mom or Dad told us to "get your butts
back here!".
I was enjoying the run and the pleasant memories and then
"UMPH!" I was heading to the ground. I didn't notice that large
rock just under the bed of leaves; I also wasn't concentrating on
putting the inside of my heel down as before. I turned my ankle
and went sprawling, sending my water bottle flying. It was over
before it started.
It didn't feel like one of those twists that just go away, but
I convinced Krash that I was okay enough to keep going. I could
feel the swelling start immediately and really struggled to keep
from limping as we continued. But, by the time we got to the
halfway point, it was starting to feel better.
At the halfway, we collected the water, juices, and stuff that
we had dropped off there earlier. Krash had some caramels that
really hit the spot.
We discussed whether I thought the ankle was up to going back
the way we came or heading back along the interstate the way
Krash had the week before in search of water. I opted for taking
my chances on taking the trail back. Running along the interstate
_did_not_ appeal to me at all. So, we were off again.
The trip back was fairly uneventful. I don't recall seeing anyone
on the trail on the way out, but on the way back there were hikers, a
lot of bikers, and several horseback riders. The folks in the tent
had started a fire to cook their breakfast. The smell of which
brought back an new flood of childhood memories of campouts.
Towards the end, we were getting a little slap-happy. Each time we
encountered a sharp rise in the path and were straining to reach the
top, we would start to laugh out loud. There were several comments
made at this point about feeling like old men.
With about 2 1/2 miles to go, I see this large, green form looming
in front of me... sitting on a bike. What do you know, its Joe! And
only two hours late. ;-) He was wearing a DRS T-shirt, "so you guys
wouldn't miss me". Like that was possible. ;-) Funny though, when he
put on his funky bike helmet, he looked like a little kid out for
bike ride. We kept the conversation short, since Krash and I could
both feel our legs slowly losing what little mobility they had left.
Eventually, we made it over the last rise and were able to finish
off with a final "sprint" to the end. It was over. And I was
elated... and sore... and very tired.
After getting home, I relished a nice, hot, long shower. Then I
headed out for a birthday dinner for my Grandma (78 yrs) where I
consumed salad, chili, fries, onion rings, steak, and shrimp. I
passed on the pie (poor recovery, as my VRP Aziz would say).
That night, as I very easily drifted off to sleep, I re-lived the
experience of that morning... moving through the trees beside the
quiet river. And every once and a while... I would kick a leg in the
sheets to catch myself after tripping over another stupid rock!
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