It starts off in darkness, with crickets and dew-necklaced grass. The moon is getting fatter; I think she’ll go into labor soon. I run down a track no bigger than my shoes, into a small stand of pines. The track’s wider here. They throw sawdust chips all over to absorb the mud and keep it viable.
Today, I’m running with my Camelbak Lobo (9 bucks on clearance at EMS), loaded with diluted gatorade. It’s not that I need that much hydration today, but this is training for the 15 miles in a few weeks. I also have my handheld water bottle. In my head, I’m singing a weird mix of Eminem and Jolie Holland, one line of each over and over. Stop it!
I find a singletrack off the main path, and it’s getting a little lighter, but I still need the headlamp here in this dense part. I’m hopping fallen birches, slipping over pine roots, and getting closer and closer to the river.
My heart rate monitor’s been helping my feeling of power. If I keep my rate down in the 79% range (called the FIT ZONE on my watch), I feel like I could run forever. If I go into the 85% or so (the PERFORMANCE ZONE), I can do it for a while, but not forever, and I feel it more. The longer I run in the FZ, the better. And I’m listening to it.
I cross a little wooden bridge over a stream feeding the river. Ducks and a loon scatter. I crest another gravelly hill, and I’m back along the river. There are places where I’m running on the thinnest of tracks, with 40 foot sloping drops to one side. Nothing scary. It’d hurt, but I wouldn’t die. But beautiful.
When I get about four plus miles in, I turn around. Hey look, it’s sunny out. I run back the way I came, but it all feels different. That huge hill that set my quads on fire is now a challenging downhill. The switchbacks are now root traps and I take a good stumble at one point. Now, I’m drinking lots more gatorade than water, but having to swish it down with good ole h2o.
Dogs and their walkers are now on the trail. I see a nice couple with their two happy little guys. I see the young woman and her dog that sneered at me yesterday (not sure why, but whatever; they’re nicer today). I get back to the little pine forest on track, and I SPRINT all the way through it to the exit, smiling at how strong everything feels. Nine miles the day after 8. I feel powerful. Mighty, even.
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