Pineland Farms Trail Run - 15.5 Miles of FUN

15.5 mile trail run. Not really something I thought I could do, but there must have been one crazy part of me that thought it was remotely possible, because I signed up and got two friends to jump on the Insanity Bandwagon with me.

We stayed in York on Saturday night - took it easy, got dinner stuff at Hannaford's, and hit the hay early. Sunday morning we were up by 7. After toast and coffee, we piled into the car for the drive up to New Gloucester. Though we all had pre-race nerves (can't get rid of those babies, no matter how many races we've run), we laughed and talked the whole way North, listening to Rocky's Theme and Chariots of Fire to get us motivated.

Going to races with my friends has proven to be one of the strongest bonding experiences I've known - we talk about everything (believe me, once you get past the subject of chafing it's open season...) and encourage each other. We share sunscreen, gummi bears and extra layers of clothing. And - quite possibly because we know we don't have even a remote shot at winning - we're not competitive with each other. We enjoy each other's company and have fun once the starting gun goes off. And when it's a crappy race or an off day, we keep each other going.

After about 45 minutes of heading North on 95, we got to Portland and made our way to New Gloucester, a quiet little town with one stoplight and a lot of rolling hills. We got to the YMCA complex, which is where the race began, and picked up our numbers and race shirts. For posterity, we each purchased a pint glass with a big red tractor (the race logo) on it, too.

Back at the car, we pinned on our race numbers and then each proceeded to apply layers upon layers of sunscreen, Body Glide, bug spray, and muscle rub. By the time I was done coating myself with all that stuff, I thought I might be able to just slide across the Finish Line. I stashed a few pieces of candy (coffee-flavored Nips...I know, I know, I'm the only person under age 85 who likes them) in my pocket for the run and off we went to the Start Line.

It was a little nerve-racking to see all the lanky, hard-bodied, spandex-clad athletes lolling around as we waited for the 25K start. The 50K and 50M races had started hours earlier and, as we waited around for the 25K start, we got to watch some of the longer distance runners come through their first course loop. Given the distances they were running, they really didn't look too detroyed. I was amazed by this later in the race, too, as the 25K course loop connected with the 50K and 50M loop and I talked with a few of the runners. Not only were they not cursing the very ground on which they ran, they actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. Just out for a Sunday morning run in the country....for 13 hours....

Our starting time drew closer and we lined ourselves up along with 247 of our cloests 25K running buddies. The race director went over course logistics and proceeded to cut right to the chase by starting us off with, "Ready...GO!" (Who needs, "on your mark, get set...."?)

We were off. We ran across a small field and parking lot and directly into the pine woods. The sky was grey and overcast, the air was cool and humid. I didn't bring an ipod on this run and all I could think of was "15.5 miles with NO MUSIC." That is a LOT of thinking time, my friends.

I lost my friends in the crowd almost immediately, but we'd agreed to run our own paces and meet up at the finish line, so there I was, alone with my thoughts, my breathing, and a whole lotta fields and hills ahead of me. This was my longest trail run ever and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any doubts about finishing it in respectable condition. I knew I could finish it, but I also knew that I didn't want to crawl across the finish line on blistered hands and knees long after everyone else had packed up and gone home.

The scenery kept me engaged and the terrain was gentle enough that I didn't need to constantly monitor my footing. Unlike other trail runs, this one didn't have major rocks, roots, logs or stream crossings. No scrambling around boulders or jumping over fallen trees, and I managed to have only one close call with a face plant. The course alternated between dirt paths that zig-zagged through pine groves and grassy trails that wound through hilly farmland. Running through the woods, I felt pines cones crunching beneath my feet and listened to leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. As the course took us through the fields and along tractor paths, long, green grass rustled and brushed at my ankles. The panorama was breathtaking. Rolling green hills, cows, white post-beam fences, and acres upon acres of nature. As far as the eye could see, NATURE. It was a nice change from fighting smog as I run through the streets of Boston.

BREATHE, I reminded myself. Breathe. I drew the fresh air in through my nose, letting the cool oxygen fill my lungs, expand my chest and open my entire rib cage. I released my breath, letting it cleanse my exhalation and clear out my mind. Let the breath center me and recharge me, I told myself. Let the breath carry me. JUST BREATHE.

It was muggy, despite the cloud cover and occasional cool breeze. My body heated up quickly and I was grateful that my friends had convinced me to make the last minute change from long running pants to shorts. My dri-fit shirt was damp with sweat and I could taste salt on my lips and feel it beginning to stick to my face. Other than that, my body felt good. No aches or pains, no major muscle fatigue, no headache. It just felt good to be outside, running over hills and through big grassy fields, breathing, thinking, not thinking, reflecting, praying, letting my mind wander.

Trying not to think about miles or kilometers, I kept going. I didn't really want to know how fast (or slow) I was going or how many miles I'd completed (or had left). I just wanted to get into my rhythm and stay there for 15 miles, enjoy the run and finish it in one piece. When I found myself running next to a woman anxiously riveted to the numbers on her watch, I felt like tripping her every time she announced the miles and pace. "Okay, just hit 5K! Only 20K left! On track for a 2:30 finish!" she barked out to everyone within earshot. (Note to runners: If you want to track your pace, that's cool, but keep it to yourself, okay? Hey, I pray when I run but you don't hear me talking to God, do you?)

The race definitely felt long, no question about it. Hours passed. I thought of the things I could do in this time frame: watch a movie, cook a meal, drive to Western Massachusetts. It was a Sunday morning and I considered what I might be doing had I not been trudging along a rural dirt path....hanging out in my sweats at my kitchen counter, newspaper and very large cup of coffee at hand? The alternatives definitely held some appeal, but there was no where I'd have rather been in that very moment than getting my sneakers dirty on this run.

The miles passed and every 5K a sign indicated how far we'd come. When I finally got to the 20K sign I actually turned around and gave a big, dorky smile and double-thumbs up to the guy behind me (a complete stranger) because I was so happy. "20K!! Isn't that awesome?!?" Yeah, you might say the Runner's High had kicked in. 5K left, I told myself. 5K. That's like a quick morning workout on the treadmill. 30 minutes or less and I'm done. A few more miles and I'm there. Trail running is a little different for me, though, and all bets are off as far as pacing goes. A 5K could take an hour. It didn't matter, though. We were in the home stretch. The finish line and organic gelato awaited.

Early on in the race, I overheard someone say that the last 5K was the hardest. Truer words were never spoken. The path became a labyrinth, zig-zagging around trees and switchbacking through what felt like the same little woodsy area. I was, for the most part, alone. The solitude didn't bother me - actually, I really liked it - but my feet ached and my toes begged for a cold bath and flip-flops. I was so slicked up with sweat, sunscreen, dirt, Body Glide, bug spray and spilled Gatorade that when a gentle drizzle began to fall I just rubbed the raindrops on my arms and let the precipitation cool me off.

The Home Stretch. A few times I heard music and voices and thought the finish line must be right around the corner, but it wasn't until I caught a peek through the woods and saw the very field where the adventure had started hours ago that I knew THIS. WAS. IT. I felt that momentary conflict of wanting it to be over (finally!) and not really wanting it to end. Part of me (the physical part) just wanted to get something to drink, walk out the kinks in my legs and back, and eventually take a shower and put on sweats. But the emotional part of me didn't want this experience to end. It felt good, it felt exhilirating, and I was having fun. The timer above the finish line glowed and ticked off minutes and seconds. When I was close enough to read it, I gave it everything I had left in me to make it in under 2:50. Finishing time - 2:49 and a few miliseconds.

How can I describe running 15.5 miles on rural trails? It made me feel strong, healthy, empowered and more than a little bit bad-ass. If I can do this, I can do anything. So what's next?

11.5 much needed miles

Perfect day for running. Awoke to the sound of rain, but by the time I got up, had some coffee, and read the paper the rain had stopped and given way to cool, grey skies and a gentle breeze. I headed out intending to do 10 miles in preparation for next weekend, and also just to get myself back into the rhythm of a longer run, both physically and mentally. A few hours alone with my thoughts can be (and often is) a very good thing, but can also prove a bit of a challenge.

I ran up Center St. and over to Comm. Ave., hitting auto-pilot much more quickly than I thought I would and enjoying the rolling terrain of Heartbreak Hill. Yes, enjoying it. At times I wasn't even fully conscious of trying to run or making myself run; it just happened on its own. My mind was engaged with other things - my music, my thoughts, my week.

I thought about so many things while I was out running today. Work. Boys. My family. My friends. My future. My life. I'm at this point of decision-making, and it has not been entirely easy. Nor should it be, because if it were easy...well, where would the challenge be?

For now, I am taking life as it comes. Day by day, mile by mile. Enjoying the journey despite a few little aches and pains and certain of some exciting achievements of which I will be proud.

Getting Back Into a Rhythm

The thing with running, for me anyhow, is that it doesn't lie. Ever. It accepts me as I am, wherever I am, and allows me to look into the mirror and clearly see my mind, body, and spirit. Looking past the sweat and the rosy cheeks, I see what I'm made of and where I've been. And there's no hiding from what I see, because it'll tell me exactly what I need to do.

Running knows when I haven't slept enough, when I've spent too much time in the car or on a plane, when I've been stressed, and when I've made too many meals of ice cream and cookies. Running knows when I'm tired, when I have something on my mind, and when my physical and emotional energy is low. It knows when I'm charged up and energized, when I've slept enough and eaten well, when I've taken care of myself. I know I will get out of running what I put into it...there are no corners to be cut and no quick fixes. Ultimately, what I do is reflected in the moments spent pounding the pavement (or trails).

~

For the past two weeks I was on vacation in Italy, where I lived from 2001 - 2003. Going back was a nostalgic journey. My first day in Carpi I ventured out for a run and felt like I'd never left, even though I've been home for almost six years. Running along the quiet, pancake-flat roads outside the center of town, I remembered all of those mornings when I did the very same thing. It's different to go back as a visitor, knowing that I'll only run a handful of times before leaving and returning to my own neighborhood, my own home, and my own familiar sidewalks. I inhaled the fresh air and looked up at the massive sky - for some reason it looks bigger there. I ran along dirt roads, past farmhouses and fields and gardens. Getting out there felt good - it allowed my spirit to expand and my body to relax after a few stressful weeks and a long trip. Even as it rained and I got soaked, I felt renewed, as if the rain was washing away all that crap I carried around with me. Running somehow allows the spirit and energy to expand into whatever space it's given, and in Italy I was given a lot.