Runner’s trot (or sprinting towards the woods)

Saturday’s run begam well, as runs usually do.

That’s a bit of a lie. It’s started out okay. Nothing dramatically awfully or stupendously wonderful. Just okay.

I snagged my partner (i.e., bribed) into accompanying me on a 14 miler through the Campbell Creek Trails. My stomach was a bit off but the sun was shining and temps were in the 50s, a perfect Alaska spring day.

So we drove to the trailhead and I buckled on my bright purple and orange Nathan hydration vest and we took off.

I “borrowed”this pic from swimoutlet.com. Why someone would wear a hydration vest while swimming is beyond me.

We started off slow. The trail was rutted and muddy and the first six miles were my least favorite section. I kept glancing at my watch. Time dragged.

“Running slow sucks,” I said to my partner. He nodded his head wisely (he’s learned to agree with me while we’re running).

Finally we reached the better part the trail and I perked up. There were hills (hills!) and curvy areas (curvy areas!) winding through birch trees and the sun was out and life was good. And we had eight more glorious miles to run.

I’ve been following training advice from Runner’s Connect coach Jeff Gaudette, who sends informative emails a couple of times a week (wish I could afford to hire you as my coach, Jeff, but think that will have to wait a bit, sigh, sigh), and geared this run around his philosophy of starting out slow and then progressively picking it up and finishing at half-marathon pace.

I started picking it up at the ten mile mark and by the last mile, I was sprinting, fast. This may or may not have been because I was in desperate need of a few sturdy bushes.

I was, you see, paying for my “sins” from the previous night, which had come back to haunt me, and they haunted me with a wicked and mad vengeance.

I’m ashamed to admit that I have a bit of a problem (an addiction?) with hot sauce, mainly Huy Fong Sriracha Sauce, which is pretty much a staple in my diet. I’ve been known to drink the stuff. I put it on everything. I seriously become depressed if I don’t have any around.

The sad truth about eating too much hot sauce, though (warning: TMI?) is that it works both ways: It’s hot going in and coming out.

Feeling a roaring heat in your stomach inch ever-so-merrily down your digestive tract while running a fast last mile of a 14 mile trail run is not exactly enjoyable.

I moved like crazy toward the finish and bolted off to the bushes, where I crouched in agony (agony!) for a good five minutes. It was a sorry end to a run that began with a lackluster mood but progressed to a strong (but hot) finish.

An hour later found me curled on the couch, still damp from a bath, and happily squirting sriracha sauce all over my dinner. I doubt that I will ever learn.

But look at this! Earlier tonight our moose friends paid a visit, such a treat to look out the window and see their knobby and ridiculously-shaped heads peering in at us (and no, I wasn’t eating hot sauce at the time).

Have a great week, everyone.

This week’s stats:
Monday: Rest, weights and 60 minutes bike
Tuesday: 8.5 miles, hilly and steep trails
Wednesday: 8.5 miles, hilly and steep trails
Thursday: 7.5 miles, paved Coastal Trail
Friday: Rest
Saturday: 14 miles, hilly trails
Sunday: 7.5 miles, paved Coastal Trail
Total: 46 miles 

Advertisements

7 thoughts on “Runner’s trot (or sprinting towards the woods)

  1. Cinthia

    I know! We have a mother moose that's been bringing her family to our yard for years. The one looking in the window was last year's calf, now pretty much a teenager. It's so cool to see them. It feels like a small gift.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s