Bonus Miles and Gripes

Some days, running comes naturally to me. I am brimming with energy and the desire to continue on forever. Some days, it burns long and warmly like glowing embers in the fire. Others, it is a candle flame quickly extinguished by the smallest puff of air. Tuesday’s run was the latter. I woke up with the enthusiasm to run but by mile 3, the tightness in my shoulders and chest remained. It actually hurt to be this stiff.

Check out my new gaiters. Made with spandex, the seams don't rub against bare legs like my other gaiters do. Perfect for keeping dirt and twigs out.

Up Look Prairie trail, it almost felt worse to get three miles of warmup in ahead of the never-ending climb.

Eventually we rose to an area where the fog was lifting and lowering in a minute's time. The light was constantly changing. The following handful of photos were taken at various stages of fog.

I stopped for a snack. In a late night trip to the grocery store, Cheetos and Pop Rocks sounded like a good idea. Devoid of any nutritional value, I learned that they were basically empty calories that my body would never use. I did enjoy the orange fingers and popping on my red tongue though. Experimentation is what training runs are all about, aren’t they?
By the time we hit mile 13, we were finally running again and I had eaten one of my candy bars. Energy returned as sugar swirled through my veins. This is the fuel I need to stick to! After several rolling hills atop the ridge, I finally felt I hit my stride. Then we hit the trail junction.

My favorite photo of the day. Looks so peaceful yet eerie at the same time.

Matt always teases me about how I map our trail runs. I like to total the segments in my head and often miscalculate our miles. More often than not, we return home with what he calls “Extra special bonus miles” that we had not planned. For this particular run, I proudly emphasized to him that I used a calculator so we would have 25 miles exactly. At the trail junction, we planned to go down Pole Line trail, a steep downhill fire service road. But the allure of the Indian Orchard trail (single-track and about 1.5 mi longer) proved too much for Matt and he found himself being the one to add the bonus miles.

Some of our friends ask why we run as long as we do. Instead of using the common reply “If you have to ask, you’ll never understand”, (which I find to be condescending and not the least bit helpful) I try to explain in a way they can relate. To someone that likes to walk, I explain that it is like a walk, but just a faster pace. Matt and I stop for photos, snacks, and sometimes hold hands. Others, I tell them that it is like enjoying cooking or a favorite TV show. It is something we enjoy doing, and you like to make time for things you enjoy, right?
I also complained about certain things. Matt seems to be the most understanding of my complaints when he’s busy running. If I talk to him at home about things, he often zones out. My most recent gripe is people commenting on my lifestyle. The biggest one lately was this:

It seems that every time I go to the grocery store and buy veggies, someone mentions how healthy my purchases are. That is followed by a “no wonder you’re so thin”. This most often comes from overweight people, so I know it must be a guilty place inside them that feels they need to say something. But really, I don’t stand in line behind a fat guy that is buying a bunch of Cheetos, beer, and TV dinners and say to him, “no wonder your ass is so huge”. Unsolicited comments from strangers, definitely something I could do without.

Does anyone know what these things are? Some type of disease maybe?

When we reached the Homestead trail, it was pretty clear we’d be finishing the run in the dark. Varying hues of sunset reflected off the six streams we crossed. The muddy clay trail grew a two-inch thick platform beneath my running shoe. The knobby tread on my shoes was completely covered up. It built up so thick on my heel that I felt I was running in heels. A dull ache directly behind my knee grew. This ache has appeared twice before, always following a long, steep downhill section. (Any ideas on exercises I can do to strengthen that muscle so it doesn’t hurt would be helpful!!)

As we paused to find our headlamps on a road between two trails, a car passed. It rolled by slowly and a hand emerged from the open driver’s window. Videotaping us in the dark? Weird. We made a point to rejoin the trail as soon as possible. The batteries in my headlamp grew weaker and the light barely made a difference. Matt traded lamps with me and I could see again.

We moved at a slow but steady pace. I find that by the time I reach the last five miles of a long run my pace really evens out and I get into a zone. As a result, it actually becomes faster. This is what I think the allure of ultramarathoning is for a lot of people: reducing yourself to something raw and experiencing life in the purest way. All worries of the outside world dissolve; keeping going, eating, and surviving is the only thing to worry about. Having spent nearly a year of my own life just trying to stay alive, I don’t understand why people do that for sport. I do, however, find that ultras, for me, are a way to test what I really can do. I believe that my mind sets a lot of my limits, and sometimes, I like to push past my mind’s boundary. Those might go together in someone’s motives, but they do not in mine.

I enjoyed running Matt’s bonus miles. I enjoyed the fact that we had the fitness and navigational tools necessary to change course.

26.5 mi.
5:32.
12:33/mi.

Update since my last run post:
That afternoon, I grew more weak and fatigued even after a double espresso. A few hours later, I spiked a fever. Turns out, I was coming down with something.

Two days later and I still have the same low-grade fever and have had no motivation to do anything. As is usually the case, I can never be sure whether being run down weakened my immune system and made me sick or if I was sick and that is what made me tired. Either way, I'm taking rest days until the fever goes away.


What do you tell people when they ask why you run the amount that you do?
I try to explain it in the clearest way possible. They don't need to know the details, and if I were to tell them, they would probably just get bored anyways.

How do you react to people judging your lifestyle?
Your lifestyle is always a choice. ALWAYS.

I could go on and on about specific things, but this is a running blog, not a whiny blog, so we'll leave it at that.