Mt. Mansfield 5-mile Trail Run

Last weekend I ran my first short race since the Endangered Species 10K in Missouri. I have decided to pick up some shorter races this year instead of focusing on marathon and ultramarathon distances. I am like a horse that has gone sour, that doesn't want to do what it has been doing, whether it be jumping, dressage, or barrel racing, and needs time away from the event to gain some appreciation and perspective, or not. Some horses never get the love of the sport back and instead become trail riding favorites. Maybe that is what I will become, a sprint distance trail runner (we must not forget my love of mountain running!).

The race went well. Unfortunately, Dave had to work the entire weekend so I went solo to the race, which usually is not a big deal because I know a lot of people in the sport; however, moving to a new place requires time to get to know people. And this event was more of a family run so a lot of kids and their parents were mingling in groups.

I cracked up at the start, laughing at the youngest kids who took off like there was no tomorrow; heads down, feet kicking up sand and grass for the first 100 meters. Then many of them slowed to a walk. Tired and ready to head back with only 2 miles to go! Most of the younger kids and many of the parents signed up for the 2 mile run.

The first 2.5 miles of the race were UPHILL! I was dying! My goal of 35 minutes seemed far away. My throat was burning and my tongue tasted metallic. Blood. This bloody-throat experience has only hit me once before: at track workouts in Columbia. The cold temperatures and sprinting made for the right bloody-throat recipe.

Up we ran, sore throat and all. Three people passed me on those uphills. I kept telling myself, Run your own race. Relax. Enjoy the woods. Finally I got into the groove and started to enjoy myself.

Halfway through the race, the uphills headed down and I began to fly. My legs were loose and a smile crept over my face. Now this was fun! With only a mile left, I caught up with two people that had passed me on the uphills. It always surprises me how things change in a race. One minute I feel like a turtle, slowly creeping up the hill; the next I am bounding down the trail as light as air.

At the finish line I was handed a popsicle stick. Interesting, I thought, not knowing that we were to return these sticks as a guarantee that we had made it out of the woods. I took my stick home with me. Later that day, I received a message on my phone from the race director letting me know that they were going to look for me if they didn't hear from me soon. I quickly called them back. "Did you receive the popsicle stick," they asked. Telling me it was a sort of check-in, to let them know which runners had made it to the finish line. "Oh, that's what that was for," I said. (At least I will know for next year.)

That evening I felt a bit overtired and went to bed at 8 p.m. Little did I know that a bug was creeping into my system. I was sick last week and this weekend and still feel under the weather today. I need to get better soon so I can bust my butt at this weekend's 6-mile run at Morse Farm! A new friend from work, Heather, and I are running the race together. She has only run one semi-trail race before and is looking forward to trying something new. I have enticed her to get into the excellent world of trail running.

Today, Heather and I start our lunch runs. We only get 30-minutes for our lunch break and usually go for a power walk, which is never enough to get my heart pumping. Last week I decided that the days wouldn't be such a wash if I could get out at lunch and run. Luckily, I always find someone who is experimental enough to test out this exercise thing and join me in the fun.