Some runs are light footed, joyful, and pass quickly. Others are introspective, where I pay more attention to thoughts than my surroundings and I feel a mental weight lift with each footstep. And some just downright drag on forever, a slog where every footstep feels like twenty. Often times, if the run is long enough, I experience all three in a single outing. This was the case for my long run last week.
 |
| Rare runnable trail on the first loop. |
Armed with loads of leftover Halloween candy, Matt, Mark, and I set out under a canopy of gigantic redwood trees. The route we chose included two loops, climbing the same 600-800 ft. over and over again. It would most closely resemble the elevation changes on the North Face course. As much as I liked the idea of training specific to our race, what I most looked forward to was the new trail. That feeling quickly faded when I realized why none of my friends ran on this particular loop: the roots are terrible.
Widespread and slippery from recent rains, each patch of trail covered in tree roots was traversed at a very tentative walk. The first three miles of the run took almost an hour. Combine the slow trail with lungs that just wouldn't open up and it felt like I was carrying an 800-lb. refrigerator on my chest.
 |
| Snacks. |
Ugh, I debated cutting out the second loop and napping in the car while the boys ran the last twelve miles without me. Matt fed me a steady stream of peanut M&Ms and they did little to make me feel better, but the distraction of eating and a full mouth at least kept my whining to a minimum. Matt even offered to run ahead at his own pace and grab my inhaler from the car, so either he's a really nice guy or I wasn't a very fun running buddy.
 |
| He's pretty cute too. |
In the days leading up to this run, my allergy symptoms increased. At times, I wasn't sure whether I was actually getting sick or it was just an allergy flareup. After the third day of the same pattern, an afternoon headache followed by an evening of sore throat, I realized what was happening.
 |
| I'm allergic to pretty much all of this. |
Nearing the end of the first loop, we turned onto an equally hilly, but much clearer trail. For the first time that day, I felt my effort level lower and my lungs expand to full capacity. Now able to focus on the run, I began to enjoy the scenery and marvel at the landscape around me.
 |
| One studly Redwood. |
Even though this park has smaller trees than the one where I usually run, the giants that remain are large, burly, and impressive. Mark, coming from inland where all the trees are of a more normal size, enjoyed how the trail passed through cutouts in the trees and hollowed out fire stumps.
 |
| Trail? Right through here! |
 |
| Trail goes under those two fallen trees. |
The quiet forest air was soon filled with whispers of the nearby ocean. On the occasional gust of wind, the sound of crashing waves grew louder. Our trail emptied onto a beachfront road and we encountered our first hikers of the day. It always feels weird to arrive at this spot. I'm that dirty trail creature that covered eight miles of muddy trail to reach this spot and here they are perfectly clean emerging from their car to check out the beach.
 |
| Hey boys. |
A herd of young bull elk blocked the trail to Fern Canyon. We stopped for a snack, hoping the elk would pass while we were resting. They grazed closer and closer until one was very nearby. The nearest young bull ignored us. It was a surreal and scary experience for me, it was almost as if he didn't notice me at all. My trail smell must provide more camouflage than I realize.
 |
| Fern Canyon. |
Fern Canyon. Wow. I've never seen anywhere quite like it. Even though this wasn't anywhere near my first visit, it never ceases to amaze me. If you've seen Jurassic Park 2: The Lost World, you've seen Fern Canyon already. Vertical canyon walls frame this narrow creek drainage. Every inch of these walls is covered in moss and fern.
 |
| Group shot just before dark. |
Since the best way to experience the canyon is to walk the length of it, we had to commit to wet feet for the rest of the run. Walking and climbing over downed trees is tedious with frozen feet. My toes began to ache and send a chill through the rest of my body. It would be getting dark soon, so we walk as hastily as possible while still enjoying the scenery.
Water leaked from my shoes as I climb out of the canyon. Immediately, the air is warmer. Running slowly through the rapidly dwindling daylight, I enjoyed the slower pace as warm blood returned to my feet.
Soon we're plunged into total darkness. Mark told us a story about finding a dead body on the beach. I tell him that just off to the side of the trail, there's an amusement park under the forest canopy. Why can't he see it? One of those stories is true, the other is not. I'll let you guys decide which one is which.
Matt and I were left alone as Mark took off at his much faster darkness pace. I had spent much of the day trying to keep up with Mark, so I was glad when he finally took off and I could focus on my own pace. Both boys had tripped and face planted today and so I could think of was staying upright. I slowed until I felt comfortable and then began telling Matt stories. These stories have become our tradition and include a handful of recurring characters, often incorporated into scenarios occurring in our daily lives. Today's story included a visit from Bandit, a raccoon and his new chicken farm. While ordering his chicks online, he left the computer unattended and his buddies added a couple of zeroes to his order. 200 chickens later and you can see how our story could go on for a very long time.
We arrived back at the car an hour later. Since my lungs were the limiting factor, my legs were still surprisingly fresh. What started out as a very difficult run ended up feeling pretty good. The pace was slow, but it accurately reflected the effort put forth.
24 miles, 6:19:11, 15:47/mi
4,589 ft. gain
