Recovering Headwaters

My doctor ordered a CT scan of my sinuses as I’ve still been plagued by headaches that can only be described as debilitating.  I’ve experimented with different home remedies and masked the pain with ibuprofen and sinus headache Tylenol, but the only thing that ever works is sleep.  I wake up each morning feeling great, but by mid-afternoon my head throbs.  If I catch a nap sometime in the afternoon, I am able to run.  If not, I sit in a dizzying misery that is enough to blur my vision.  And the more time I spend outside, the worse my headache will be the next day.  The day after the 18 miler was awful.

This afternoon, I was lucky enough to catch a nap before my run.  I dragged myself sleepily along the paved first mile of Headwaters trail.  My heart pounded.  I spoke between desperate breaths.  By the time the asphalt ended, my body had relaxed.  Lately, the beginning of each run is like this.  My brain thinks I’m trying to kill the body and it does everything it can think of to stop me from going.  By mile three and the long climb skyward, my brain got her rush of endorphins.  “S’all cool man.  Keep on running,” my brain said to me, “We’re good.  Promise.”

 Soaked in Liquid Endorphins, just as we like it.

As this is our favorite trail, Matt and I moved along the familiar path.  Twists and turns in the trail felt instinctive.  Suddenly, we met a new section of trail.  It seems that they’ve rerouted the muddiest part of the trail to a more drained area above the previous one.  Curiously, we followed the new gravel trail.  Fully armed in our trail shoes and gaiters, we were a little disappointed in the dry trail.  I think this was our driest Headwaters experience ever.  Usually it is a mud bath.  I kinda like it that way. 

Garmin also lost signal half a dozen times, chirping as we followed the ridge’s crest.  Garmy doesn’t like the reroute either, I guess.  The distance appears to be the same, but I think we lose a dip and climb area, so that combined with a drier trail will likely yield faster times this winter.  And hopefully the A-hole that cut all the switchbacks didn’t cause a drain to washout the entire hillside this winter.

The best part of the Headwaters trail is the return back to the Elk River, three miles from the end.  Three glorious miles of effortless descent always intensifies the euphoria I feel on this run.  Our cheerleaders, the Giant Redwoods, sway enthusiastically in the wind.  Rarely do we find another soul out this far.  The forest applause is all ours.  The descent is just steep enough to cause a slight quad soreness, but not all-out distress.  It is perfect.

 Can you find me?

We return to the old logging road that leads back.  Just stumps of the giants remain.  We pass the old Falk town site.  It is hard to believe that less than 75 years ago, this was a town.  In this part of the country, nature is quick to reclaim what is hers.  Scars are still noticeable on the trees and scraps of metal are still found, but for the most part, the area is healing and returning to its previous natural glory.  In the two short years I’ve spent running this trail, I have witnessed some of her recovery.  There is beauty, even in the healing process.  

Soon, Matt and I return to dry inland air.  Soon, we leave for the southwest. Dry air.  Sinus relief.  Whatever is irritating me will not follow.  This is exactly the reprieve I need before the doctors can figure out what to do.  It may not be a full recovery, but a break from the headaches is the best I can ask for right now.

12 miles, 1:58.49. 9:54/mi.

~1,400 ft. elevation gain.