A tale of two runs

The thought of 18 solo miles on the roads was very unappealing until I heard from Fran at the eleventh hour (ok 7:30pm) wondering if anyone was running in the morning! I was thrilled and quickly gave her my best spin hoping it would be her best offer!! Turns out it was her best offer and lucky for me, her only one!

Twelve hours later we set off for a 9 mile loop around Middletown. The roads were quiet and clear and the conversation and pace was nice and relaxed. I was feeling a bit tired though, I think from my busy week and maybe a little stress about my upcoming vacation.

After loop one, I walked with Fran for a bit, brought my dog out to see her, drank water, ate fig newtons…anything to procrastinate the second loop that I would do without her. Fran suggested that I completely change clothes. More procrastination…great idea!

Fifteen minutes after finishing loop one I had a whole new outfit on and iPod buds in my ears. It felt like I was just starting a new run! I also realized the hills were harder on the first loop, so that gave me a boost, though I did feel a little bad running the harder direction with Fran. But, she’s tough, so I didn’t dwell on that.

With a few miles to go I was completely exhausted. My legs were sore, my breathing was labored and I was starving and thirsty. My energy level was low. I definitely need to figure out the eating thing better. A couple of favorite songs later and I was home. 18. Done. I couldn't help compare the soreness I felt from the roads, versus trails. Trails are nice....

Off to Key West tomorrow for some R&R. Nice to have this run in the bank as my runs on vacation tend to be easy strolls with many stops to take in the scenery, and sometimes to figure out where I am!

I’m wishing Tricia and Mirela good luck on their 3 hour trail run tomorrow, and Fran on the second run of her weekend, with Karen. Not too many people can jump back into longer runs after an entire month off due to injury like Fran can. Ok…pretty sure Tricia could too!

still more fun than the road

Workout: 2.5 hours; trail (Brooksvale Park)
Time: 9:30am
Temp: 22 degrees at start; 27 degrees at finish
Conditions: wildly inconsistent!

We are a little over 9 weeks away from the Traprock 50k, and still the trails are covered in ice, snow, post-holes, sinkholes, fallen trees, and ruts left by snow-shoers who made their tracks before the most recent wintry mix.

For the second week in a row, I set out to do my long run on Thursday, rather than on the weekend, to free up some time for family, work, and house obligations. On the plus side: I can sleep an extra hour or so on Saturday morning. On the minus side: Thursday long runs are lonely long runs. The group runs on the weekend.

Last week, running on the trail was out of the question. This week, the trail is still questionable, but the question is, is it any less treacherous than the road?

If my Tuesday morning run with Pete is any indication, I would have to say “no.” In our 65-minute tour of Cheshire’s south end, Pete and I battled patches of ice, narrow sidewalks, irate morning commuters, blaring car horns, and ankle-deep puddles. This morning, I was utterly desperate for the solitude of the trail, and so I headed over to Brooksvale Park, my expectations low but my spirits cheerful at the idea of being in the woods.

I was giddy to find that the main trail, beginning from the parking lot behind the Veteran’s Memorial Building, was runnable. Not just “runnable” (step, step, slip, sink, step), but runnable (step, step, step, step, step, leap with glee). To be fair, the runability of the trail was due in large part to the efforts of an adventurous snow-shoer, who laid the tracks that became my path (a path that took me to previously unexplored areas of the park—an amazing feat, considering that I have been running there for ten years). Yaktrax were a necessary accessory, as the packed snow was slippery in spots, especially by the stream.

Ah, the stream. The stream-crossing is part of our regular loop, and where we cross depends on the season, and on how much precipitation we have had. Most of the time, it’s no trouble at all to skip across the rocks and escape with nothing more serious than a wet toe. Sometimes, when the water is deeper, we go a little further west, and use a fallen tree as our “rope.” Today the stream was rushing, so I opted for the tree. Wish I’d brought the camera, and someone to take a video. What usually takes about thirty seconds took at least four minutes. The tree was icy, and the rocks were covered with a slick layer as well. I clung to the trunk and slowly made my way across. When I got to the bank on the other side and began to scramble up, I sank into the snow, and back into the water. I tried again, and slipped on an icy branch. On the third attempt, a little more wary, I managed to find a foothold and lift myself up on to the snow, which was also covered in a layer of ice. I dug in with my Yaktrax, brushed the snow from my tights, and continued on.

The snowshoe tracks, I noticed, had ended at the stream. It was clear that my guide had turned back. The fun run was over. The footing seemed stable at first, but this was short-lived. Step-step-sink. Step-sink. Sink. Sink. Step. Crash. Trip. Step. Step. Step.

I was determined at this point to spend all of my 2.5 hours on the trail, conditions be damned. I told myself, not unreasonably, that even if step-sink isn’t the same as “running,” this wintry workout would better prepare me for a race like the Traprock.

Ninety minutes to go. . . .

I had to keep sipping from my hydration pack to keep the water from freezing. When I reached the bridge, and the road that leads to the YMCA camp, the footing was actually quite solid. This inspired me to head for the Blue Trail in Naugatuck State Forest. I was going to run to the top of Mount Sanford, and then continue on the ridge!

My excitement dissipated within minutes of reaching the Blue Trail. Sink. Sink. Crash. Swear. Admit defeat. Turn back, with one last glance at Sanford.

A frustrating run to the Pipeline Trail. There, I could see the ghost of snowshoe tracks. Could these be the same ones left by Anne, Fran and me three weeks ago? In any case, the Pipeline Trail was fairly frozen, which meant I could run without sinking (and swearing).

The White Trail brought more adventurous footing, and I slogged through the final leg of the run, much of which is still a blur. My shins are a little bruised, my back aches from the slipping and sinking, but it was still an uplifting respite from the wretched road. Tomorrow: Sleeping Giant!

Winter biathlon

I wasn't in Norway, but I felt like I was. The trees were still ice covered. Mounds of snow everywhere. Gray and cold. When I reached the top of one hill, I could see across to the Powder Ridge "ridge" and the variations of gray and white where so awesome that I had to stop and shoot. The problem was my heart rate. It was so high from the hill, that I could hardly point the camera. I exhaled, held steady, and shot it. I could not help but think of my favorite Olympic sporting event, the Winter Biathlon.

The biathlete races full speed on skis and then must stop and fire a rifle at a target. If they miss the target on any of their tries, they must take a penalty lap equivalent to the number of times they missed the target. It's brutal and fascinating! I realize they are in top physical condition, but still, their heart rates have to be through the roof. I can't imagine how they steady themselves to fire at the target. In the end, my hilly 13 mile solo run was made a little easier as I fantasized about being a Nordic biathlete even if just for a few minutes as I crested the hill and fired my camera.

roadrunner blues

I'm a lover of winter. Usually, I complain about the lack of snow in Connecticut, and hoard the pleasure of each snowfall by spending as much time as possible in the fluffy stuff. The reason I have never invested in a pair of running snowshoes is because, prior to this year, there has not been a winter during which the trails were rendered un-runable by more traditional methods (trail shoes and a pair of Yaktrax). Sure, there was some post-holing once in a while, but in general, a snowy path simply meant a colder, more intense workout.

Today, though, I’m saying “Uncle.” While the roof-raking, ice-chopping and shoveling have added some variety to the cross-training routine (not to mention an excuse to use my long-neglected ice axe), I am missing the trail. Our Tuesday trail runs have been snowed out for at least three weeks. My snowshoes are too clunky for running. I’m losing sleep because I can feel the roof getting heavier and heavier.

Consequently, I have neglected the blog. I just haven’t been inspired by my workouts.

One exception: our second annual winter ascent of Mt. Monadnock in New Hampshire. This year, there were seven of us (Anne, Mirela, Joshi, Steffi, Lisa, Fran and this writer), and though we packed a lot of gear (snowshoes, crampons, mountaineering boots, ice axe), the conditions were such that all we really had to do was hike. We took the Spellman-Pumpelly route, which is a bit dicey in certain spots, but appealing because it is more technical and therefore less travelled. Last year, the exposed section was a blanket of ice, and crampons were mandatory. This year, though the footing was a somewhat uncertain at times, we managed to ascend in just boots.

The descent was quick and slippery: we were able to slide down a good portion of the trail on our bottoms (those of us who opted for rain pants had an especially fast ride).

We capped the “cross training” trip off with a trip to the People’s Pint in Greenfield (see photo, below).

Since then, I’ve been back on the road. Today, I managed a hilly 13 miles from my house, and though I had to stop every couple of minutes to let cars pass (yes, the roads are that narrow), I was elated to be out in the sunshine after days of being cooped up with the kids. The glare was a little intense for my generic sunglasses, but the trees glistened and sparkled. The most picturesque portion of the run was Blue Hills Orchards in Wallingford (I snapped two photos on my phone, but don’t have the equipment to upload them to my p.c.). I love this section in every season, but rarely do I have the opportunity to see the hills covered in so much powder.

Heading back toward home, I stopped by the DeDominicis Trail on Old Lane Road (one of our favorites) to investigate the conditions. The trailhead was completely blocked by about 6-feet of ice-encrusted snow, and the trail itself was untrodden. For two or three steps, it almost seemed as though the ice would hold my weight, and I was almost giddy. I considered running home, grabbing my Yaktrax, and coming right back. But before the idea had even registered, I sank, and my shins crashed up against shards of ice. Sigh. Back to the roads.