Typically, I plan out what types and distances of runs I will do each week, which includes one hill run. Lately, I have been trying to increase the distance of the run by 10 minutes each time, and increase the elevation climb by 100-200 feet. Yesterday, I planned to do a 80 minute run.
The beginning portion of the route, at the base of Bald Hill. |
The gravel road that leads to the Mulkey Hill Trail. |
The weather was absolutely gorgeous. Sunny, yet a cool 46 degrees. Last time I ran here, it was raining quite a bit. Once I was warmed up, I knew it'd be near perfect running conditions. I'm dressed appropriately for the weather and a long run. Today I would wear my sunglasses. Little things make a difference. My sunglasses fit my head better than my normal glasses.
My mind swirls with thoughts and some anxiety. I have a new pair of running shoes especially designed for the trail. Last time I wore them, I got a blister on the back of my ankle. It hadn't fully healed. It was rubbing against the shoe. I tell myself this could be a long painful run. Little did I know that the healing blister would be the least of my challenges. I wrestle with other doubts. Can I make it? Will I need to stop and walk? How will I do without running partners? How will this feel on my chest? Will this be enough to prepare me for a big race in two weeks? Will I be able to take on that race? My mind swirls with questions, but also anticipation.
I stretch for a few minutes, taking care to especially stretch the ankle that I rolled a few weeks ago. I still baby it just a bit, and I don't want to re-injure it. I start off on a brisk walk. I feel the shoe rubbing against the blister. I stop twice to readjust my socks and the shoe. It still bothers me. I walk for five minutes to get warmed up, loosened up, and mentally prepared to run.
The trail begins along a flat open field, perfect for getting the heart rate up. Immediately I notice that my right shoe fits looser than the left shoe. That bothers me. Should I stop and re-tie it? Why didn't I notice that when walking? I did this last time too. Why can't I tie them evenly? So the thoughts go.
The base of the first hill. |
Today my planned route is to run up and down two hills. The first is a trail that I've only been on once before. I am hoping I remember the proper route. There are several trails and turns, and it would not be a good thing to get lost... especially alone. I find the trail head, and enter the woods. Now I am no longer in the direct sunlight. The scenery changes to a beautiful trail covered in autumn leaves. Trees all around covered in moss. Small shrubs cover the floor. The trail is mostly old gravel that is slowly being covered by dirt and mud. Since it hasn't rained for several days, the mud has mostly dried out. Wonderful running conditions.
The hillside below. |
Almost to the top of the first hill. |
My current circumstances force my mind back to the run. I veer off on a path that is basically the start of a large loop around the top of the hill. I'm still climbing. It is now a single person path only a foot wide. Tall grasses hang over the trail. I'm all alone in the mountains. I think of cougars and mountain lions and get a bit nervous. I hear rustling and it spooks me. Oh, just my legs brushing against the grass. My mind is not quite clear from the exertion. What if I fall? Or if there is an animal? Ridiculous thoughts. I battle through them. I need to focus on breathing. If I breath too quickly I will hyper-ventilate and make it worse. I count: 1-2-3-4-breathe. 1-2-3-4-breathe. I began to calm down and continue on.
Beginning of the loop around the top of the hill. |
Narrow single track at the top. |
The descent. Flying down the hill! |
Within what feels like only a few minutes, I have descended the hill that I worked so hard to climb. The trail was perfect for a fast descent. I am a bit worried that I came down that too fast, but it felt good. I break out into the clearing and onto the gravel road, and suddenly the adrenaline vanishes. Gone. Now all I feel are the effects of running up a hill and coming down too fast. My legs hurt. My hips hurt. When I run too fast, my back will hurt. Today is no exception. Just great: an aching back, legs, and hips.
The point where I need to decide to quit or continue on. |
The second hill (Bald Hill) is now in view. |
Base of Bald Hill. |
Slow climb up Bald Hill. |
"The Climb" - the steep portion of the hill. |
Slowly, ever so slowly it feels, I begin to climb. Step after step I chug up the hill. Breathing becomes better. I talk aloud, "Come on. Come on." I look ahead and just see more hill. Don't worry about the speed, just keep going. I feel like I have no energy left to go another step.
I glance down at my iPhone, and I have a faster pace than expected. I have noticed this several other times: that the second hill can feel much harder, but I am actually running faster. It is a mental battle. I never realized when I started running how much of this sport is mental. Yes, it is physically a challenge, but I've observed that our minds limit us far more than our bodies. If we are able to take those mental negatives captive, we are able to achieve far more than we realize.
I glance down at my iPhone, and I have a faster pace than expected. I have noticed this several other times: that the second hill can feel much harder, but I am actually running faster. It is a mental battle. I never realized when I started running how much of this sport is mental. Yes, it is physically a challenge, but I've observed that our minds limit us far more than our bodies. If we are able to take those mental negatives captive, we are able to achieve far more than we realize.
I grind up the hill. The top is a clearing, and I take in the view from the top. I made it! I climbed the second hill! A wave of tired sense of accomplishment washes over me. I know I still have 20 minutes to go, but it doesn't matter now. I have crested the second hill. It should be easy now.
View from the top of Bald Hill! |
Another view from the top. |
Corvallis in the distance. |
The final descent. |
My legs felt like spaghetti. With my ankle weakness, I knew I couldn't afford to misstep. My mind was flooded with fearful thoughts of my legs collapsing and falling headlong into the rocks. I descend and naturally pick up speed. I must force myself to slow down. It feels so unnatural. I hit a gully and realize again how weak the leg strength is. Mud and rocks make it an obstacle course. I step on a hidden rock and feel my other ankle wobble. I run a bit further and my back foot slips and slides several inches. I recover and slow. Carefully I continue on descending the hill and eventually come to another clearing.
I've made it through the difficult part. Only a mile left on fairly flat surface. But I have one more goal. It is good to save a bit of energy for the end. To speed up and finish strong. To not walk across the finish line, but to run fast. Do I have anything left? I must pace myself. I'm so tired. I want to walk. But I push on. I think about what I've accomplished. I think about my next run - a long flat street run. I think about eating. I pick up speed. I recognize when I am lumbering versus running. I try to improve my form. Back straight. Head up. I pass several people walking their dogs. I can now smile a bit. I sprint the last 30 seconds. Thirty seconds feel like an eternity. I count it down in my head. Thirty seconds, I can do anything for thirty seconds.
I'm done.
Seven miles. One hour and 20 minutes. Elevation climb of 1166 feet. 1,114 calories. Alone. The furthest distance I've ever ran on a hill run.
As you can see, this run included so many things: challenge, excitement, euphoria, fears, overcoming, exercise, mental submission, goals, accomplishments, natural beauty. That is why I subject myself to such challenges. I love it, I hate it, I dread it, but I can't wait until I can do it again!
No comments:
Post a Comment