Lost Creek Lake and Big Decisions

Clouds begin to lower as we approach the trailhead. My hopes of a dry run diminish with each passing mile. I'm going to be wet. Again. Of course, with all of this practice, I've become a professional at applying Body Glide to all the right places and knowing precisely which layers will keep me on the right side of the line between freezing to death or overheating.

In a desperate attempt to get my allergies to calm down, get one dry long run in, and finally lift my spirits, Matt, Zoey, and I made the trek to southern Oregon for a weekend away. For the first time in almost a month, the constant dizziness that occurs when my allergies are really bad finally went away. It was a relief, but didn't solve the problem of what would happen when I returned home. The weekend wasn't as dry as we'd hoped, but it was so nice to feel good again.

As we made our way through flooded sections of trail, my gloomy weather grumpiness increased and I retreated further into my head. Training has been hard. It has been a combination of allergies, asthma flares, and soaking wet runs, ugh, let's just say I haven't enjoyed it. Not even a little bit. I let these thoughts marinate in my head for almost two hours while splashing through puddles before I take a deep breath and hint at them to Matt.

"How fast do you think you'll run the last ten miles of AR?" I ask. He gives an estimated pace and then realizes what I'm hinting at as I finally say it:

It's not the right time for me to train for a 50 miler.

I'm sure I could get in the minimal amount of miles and finish without a problem, but that would set me up for a pretty miserable finish. I like to train well for the major events on my yearly calendar. If I can't, I'd rather skip it than half-ass my training.

I could list all the reasons why, but written out, they sound like excuses. When it comes to my running, I like to rely on feelings rather than logic and the overwhelming feeling is that I'm miserable. My heart is not in this right now. 

Matt wasn't too surprised by this decision, and maybe you, my lovely insightful readers, had figured it out already too. I kept avoiding signing up for AR (whew, saved myself two hundred bones on that one!), I never shared my training or the plan I intended to follow, etc. It's funny how others in our lives can often figure us out before we have our own grand epiphanies.

...which is terrible, because this view doesn't suck at all.

I know that my allergies have a lot to do with it, but vocalizing it to Matt on our run nearly brings me to tears. I'm frustrated, but not because I feel like I'm giving up, but because I truly don't know what it is I do want.

Dam.

Matt and I make up and share stories to improve our mood. Once his story about Princess Karen and her kitty Puffball's spa retreat weekend concludes, he asks for one from me. Apparently, I'm not the only one with mental struggles today. As my story about a herd of Ikea stuffed moose eating trees on the White House lawn progresses, I notice my breathing become labored as less words slip out between breaths. All that allergy stress doesn't go away in just a weekend.  However, I'm relieved to decide that I don't need to make myself worse by training. I don't have to spend a zillion hours outside in the rain with all the things that make my head ache. Yay!

Cute husband and pretty waterfall.

By the time we make the full loop around the lake and return to the car, we're famished. By some stroke of luck, we parked the car at the marina and next to a camper store that is open year-round. We quickly change into dry outfits and make a beeline for the general store. Half fishing bait and half restaurant, I hold little hope for the food being good. But wow! It is...and not only because I'm hungry! Matt orders a breakfast burrito the size of my head and I get a BLT with taco soup. What a wonderful surprise! I wish all trailheads had such amenities!

18.75 miles, 3:35, 11:32/mi., 969 ft. gain.

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Our long weekend extended until Monday and within an hour of returning to the coast, that familiar sore throat, headache, and dizziness had returned. It's so easy to adapt to my symptoms and accept them as part of life, but it's not until I take trips away that I realize how terrible living on the coast makes me feel. Running at 6,500 ft. in New Mexico felt better than my runs here at sea level have been lately. It's supposed to be the other way around, so that really means something.

Are you willing to move with us one more time, little kitty?

Even though it breaks my heart every time I think about it, I know it's the right thing to do:  It's time to move.  Without even considering what this stress is doing to my long-term health, I'm sick of suffering. I'm on half a dozen allergy and asthma medications that do nothing. Over the course of the last five years, I've gone back and forth on this decision. Neither of us like this idea, but we have always said that if we leave it will be because of my allergies and how long I could tolerate them.  But where do we go?