wednesday: in the lair of the nazgul

Workout: 5 mi run
Location: DeDominicis Trail, Cheshire (left from my house)
Temp: 34 degrees
Time: 10:45 a.m.
Folks: me, Sasha
Conditions: Rain; deep, crusty snow; some ice

Arms and back slightly sore from yesterday’s workout: shoveling the driveway.

An intense case of cabin fever helped steer me away from the elliptical at the Y and out into the rain. I decided to see what the trails had to offer, though I was quite sure I would be doing more post-holing than running. I strapped on the Yaktrax in my driveway, as the roads leading to the trail (about a mile from my house) were pretty slick. I was, as usual, overdressed, and wearing the wrong kind of gaiters. These ones have no clip, so I can’t attach them to my shoelaces. So, really, all they provided was added weight.

Sasha, overjoyed to be joining me on a run, was clearly disconcerted when we arrived at the trailhead and immediately began breaking through snow. Deep powder she can handle, but this stuff, this packed slushy with a layer of ice on top, was tough on her little paws, as well as on my shins (I was reminded of a day last year or the year before when Fran and I ran this same trail, in similar conditions, and I arrived home with scratches and bruises all over my legs).

The two of us were working hard. I decided we would only go as far as the stream, cutting short our usual loop by at least a mile, perhaps more. I was sure the conditions would compensate for the lack of mileage (my quads and calves were certainly burning more than they do on an average run). Before we arrived at the turnaround point, however, we were stopped short by the screams of what sounded like Nazgul, the creepy winged beasts from the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. I have a history of attracting these creatures. The screams, as it turned out, were coming from two very low-flying red-tailed hawks, who seemed not to want company. We decided to turn back a little early. “We’re friendly!” I called to the hawks, picking up a branch as one flew overhead—just in case. “We’re leaving!”

Going back was like swimming upstream. I could still hear the Nazgul off in the distance, which put a little hop in my step, but I was by no means fleet. About .5 miles from the trailhead, I noticed, with some irritation, that I had lost one of my Yaktrax. I stop, pondered for a minute, then turned back. I’ve had these Yaktrax for at least eight years, and they have served me well; I had to go back. “C’mon, Sash,” I called to the dog. She sat down and stared at me. I started jogging. She continued to stare. She had a point. Poor girl is arthritic, and had already given more than she had. I decided I’d go back tomorrow, on snowshoes, and look for the lost Yaktrax. Maybe the Nazgul would have returned to Mordor by then.

Sasha signaled her approval by running in the direction of the trailhead. As we approached, I saw, at the entrance, my Yaktrak. I’d lost it right at the start of the run. Crisis averted.

Tonight’s workout: basketball!