Headwaters in the Sunshine

My legs moved reluctantly along the trail.  I wish I was a morning runner, but somehow I can never quite get the hang of it.  It is always a struggle.  The first few miles of the Headwaters trail passed quickly in my dreamlike trance.  Then we hit the hill.

The thing about this trail is that there are several rolling hills for the first three miles, thankfully providing enough warm up that the part coming next doesn't feel like death, a single mile that climbs over 1,000 ft at once.

It begins with the meanest, steepest hill of the whole route.  Suddenly, I was ripped from my dreamy easy run trance, the gauges on my effort level moved from green to red and then to flashing alarm lights.  No matter how easy I take this run, it is never easy unless I stop.  But it is challenging, quiet, and just enough out of the way that it often seems as though it is mine alone.

On this sunny Saturday morning, there were several other runners, a new record we'd later realize: eight.  We occasionally come across hikers on the early parts, but rarely runners.  But we rarely run on Saturday morning.

Climbing higher through the trees and toward the bright sunshine, Matt and I forced broken sentences into a conversation.  We crested the ridge and followed it along to my favorite spot.  I swear I have at least one hundred photos of this very spot.  Each time it looks different.  I've come to notice which weather conditions or seasons look the best.  I prefer the fog.  Redwoods always look best in fog.  I promise.  As this little grove of old growth is tucked at least ten miles off the coast, it is rare that the low clouds hang around in the summertime.  Now the stark contrasting air and trees take on a sepia tone, not the lush green that it does in the winter.  I tell Matt that this is my favorite spot.  He just reminds me that I say that every time we run here.  Well good, at least he knows.

Then we begin to descend back to the Elk River.  This gentle cruise is reward for all the climbing we just did.  It feels effortless as I bound gingerly down the switchbacks.  We come across a group of four runners and several dogs making the ascent.  I was impressed that they were able to run the uphills.  I do a LOT of fast walking on those parts.

Soon we are back on the rolling hill, gravel road back to the car.  Three miles of easier running hardly feels easy.  Although we are moving faster than along the narrow singletrack, it feels slower since we aren't darting between the trees and whizzing past the ferns. A mile from the end, we realize that I am close to a course PR.  Normally finishing in 2:04, I realize that I'll come in very close to two hours if I can push it.  I pick up the pace and by the final quarter mile, I'm nearing top effort.  That yellow metal gate at the end can't come quick enough.  The knobby tread beneath my shoes flaps loudly on the now asphalt route. 

I reach the gate in 2:00:08, a new record.  I believe that part of the improvement is fitness, but most is due to the improved drainage (a lot less mud, sad) that was completed on the trail in the last year.  Hmm, maybe morning runs aren't too bad at all. 

11 mi.
2:00:08.
10:55/mi.
2,000 ft. climb