Bonking on Peterson Ridge

Little clouds of dust puff behind Matt's every footstep as we make our way through the trees. The sun, now fully high in the sky, beats down like a blow torch and even though the humidity is low, I find myself sweating profusely. Beads of perspiration drip from my chin and splash on my knee. Just a mile into the run, I knew it would be a rough day.

When we found ourselves with a long weekend, on an actual holiday weekend, we wasted no time trying to link up with friends we normally miss on our weekday weekends. Steve and Michelle, community band buddies of mine, have spent the last few years trying to get us up to Bend to check out the trails. Home to a lot of professional athletes, including trail runners and mountain bikers, I knew the area had to be packed with some really good running. I was not disappointed.

Weaving through the trees on gently banked trails, I am surprised how fun running on mountain bike trails is turning out to be. We pull over several times to let riders pass. Since this is well-known as a beginner trail, we trade the lead back and forth with a group of girls who are struggling on the terrain and fall off their bikes a lot. This doesn't exactly make me want to take up mountain biking, I think to myself, it looks pretty awful.

In pockets of moisture on an otherwise dry ridge line, we pass clusters of gorgeous wildflowers. Every so often a panoramic view of the Three Sisters appears. I suddenly find myself jealous of the fact that each of these little towns has their own trail system right from the edge of the city, something my local area is just beginning to develop.

Taking a break at one of the rocky outcroppings, we snap a few pictures of the snowy mountains and have a snack. Even though it has been a low snow pack year, snow still blankets the high country. That just means we'll have to come back later this summer when those trails reopen. Darn.

It's not until our rest stop that I realize how sweaty I've become. It's like I'm hemorrhaging water. We decide to turn down the a connector trail and make a smaller loop. The trail connector is called Hello Kitty. Given my love of kitties, I decide fate is telling me to go that way.

Our return trip suddenly feels easier and it isn't until now that we notice we've been climbing gently this whole time. My dizzy bonk begins to lift and I'm feeling strong again. A few miles later the bonk returns, and for the remainder of the run, my energy comes in small bursts punctuated by an ever-mounting fatigue. This seems to be how moderate altitude (this run was 3,000-4,000 ft.) affects me: it's not high enough to force me to walk, but it's enough to make the whole run feel a little off.

This is totally my bliss face.

As awful as it is, I find myself enjoying the simplicity of the raw fatigue. When my body becomes tired enough, all my other thoughts melt away, starting with that silly pop song that was playing on the radio and has been stuck in my head for the last ninety minutes. I'm relieved to finally be alone with the sound of my own breathing and heartbeat, which are louder than usual given the altitude and my state of hydration.

So. MUCH. SWEAT.

We run out of water after the thirteenth mile. Our friends pass and offer some more. I take large greedy gulps from the Camelbak hose and sense a third (or fourth?) wind coming on. Matt and I split our last bit of food and then continue on back to the car. We manage to pick up the pace in the last mile and Matt zooms off ahead at his own speed while I try to keep him in sight. It always amazes me how my body can pull off a kick after feeling so drained. Sometimes I wonder how much of that fatigue is mental. My legs can keep going long after my head gives up.

15.5 miles, 2:37:33, 10:09/mi. 
(paused Garmin for snack break to take in view and not feel rushed, elapsed time: 3:05)
870 ft. gain.