Tour de Virginia: Recap Day 4

"James," I asked the night before. "Do you think I could con you into taking down my tent in the morning and throwing it in my bin? I need to get up even earlier than I have been to get a jump on the others. Our tents are so close together I don't want to wake them."

"Sure. No problem." Sweet James.

It was a little awkward to ask for special help. Up to this point, we were supposed to take care of everything ourselves. In fact, originally, Eric had the idea that we would each have to cook for ourselves in the the evenings. Thank goodness he decided to bring along his brother James, a professional chef. On my previous adventures, I was blessed to have crew to deal with all the logistical details of setting up and taking down camp, helping to prepare packs, and worry about all the other details. It was all I could do to just get up and run. But this time around, I was finding it difficult to take care of everything. My non-running hours were so few, it proved to be a major challenge for me. Still, though I asked but this once, it seemed to open a flood gate. In coming days, the remaining runners seldom had to deal with camp set-up or take-down issues.

I set my alarm for 4 a.m. Since everything was prepared the day before, I merely grabbed my breakfast items and headed up the trail. I was actually disappointed to see several other runners up and at 'em as I passed by the campsite on my way out. I felt pressure rising knowing they would be in hot pursuit, again relishing me to bring up the rear--again. It was quite depressing. But I could hardly blame them for wanting to leave in the dark. The massive heat wave was still in full swing. We were running right into the depths of a pre-heated oven with no promise of quenching water.

The first seven miles went by quickly. I was so pleased that my legs still felt no stiffness or soreness after three long days on the trail. I suppose it was my turtle-speed that protected them. The terrain allowed considerable running in this section, eventually leading to a downhill run on gravel, across the I-77overpass, down a country road, and back onto trail. My progress was good and I was happy with the time it took. But since it was inevitable, Rob came up behind me followed by Anne and then TroyBoy. In fact, we were all together when we descended the hill down to a shelter in search of a spring at about 19 miles. (Eric slept in. He would pass me, however, within the next few miles.) I ended up being last in line to lay claim to the trickle of water escaping from a crack in the rocks. For the first time, I dropped in iodine pills to treat the water. I hoped the taste wouldn't be too bad.

This meant I was the last one to reclaim the trail. I didn't like being last. I could only imagine what the others thought of me. I was doing my best for the circumstances, but my best wasn't even their worst on a bad day. The pressure I felt was intense. I couldn't shake the feeling that they would rather me not be in this event. My speed (or lack thereof) was just too inconvenient for everyone else.

At this point, I could feel the heat rising and my emotions falling. Eric passed me somewhere in there, briefly telling me of going down the wrong trail to the spring. Then he was gone. The trail eventually popped out into the open, immediately raising the temperature about twenty degrees. It was miserable. Then came a footbridge across a river and s surprise on the other side.

"Hey, come over here" a young man shouted. "I have soda, water, grapes, and some other snacks. Want some?"

Do I? Yes! A West Virginia runner, who I did not know, had heard about the Tour and drove an hour to help. He said we were all within thirty minutes of each other. That was encouraging to hear since I figured I was hours behind, standard fare for me. His refreshments did just that as I crossed the road and began the next climb. With only fourteen miles to go, I felt confident of turning in a reasonable performance. Energy good. Legs good. Attitude getting better.

There were more blowdowns in this section, which I negotiated with a sense of normalcy. I glanced at my data card and checked off an intersecting trail two miles later. Then the trail slipped into a rhododendron tunnel that twisted and turned, providing much needed shade. It was lovely and quite runnable. The tunnel gave way to an open hardwood forest, the trail rambling through it like a giant ribbon. There were plenty of little bridges but alas, the streams beneath were simply dry rock. I was getting thirsty again and needed to refill.

Somewhere along the line, the tunnel and forest trail seemed to blend into one big maze. It was like I was getting nowhere, trekking in circles. Every time I came to another bridge, I could have sworn I had already crossed it. I could find nothing on the data card to serve as a point of reference. Round and round I went, not sure if I had somehow doubled back. I was in the twilight zone.

Much to my relief, I finally passed a stream with moving water, filling my pack to the brim and guzzling the fresh water as fast as I could. Then a shelter appeared on the right and my faith was renewed that I was still following the blazes to the north. This meant six miles remained. Easy, right?

Wrong. The climb out of that hole was, as Anne later described it, "heinous." Steep and rocky, it went straight up. I gasped for breath and leaned on my poles to propel me upward. It was incredibly difficult but finally turned to follow the contour of the mountain's ridge line. I also became aware that my feet, especially the right one, were becoming a problem. I could feel that a blister, deep under a callous in the ball of my feet, had formed. A step onto any uneven surface pulled and tore at it. Another equally deep blister formed under my heel callous. Progress was slow and the eventual descent off the rocky mountain trail not at all pleasant.

After what seemed like hours, I saw the van waiting at the road crossing for me. Adam handed me a Diet Coke. Eric's dad, visiting for the day, was sent to check on me since it was taking so long. By the time we drove the half-mile down the mountain to the Woodshole hostel, everyone else had already showered, organized their packs, and had started the eating and drinking process. I felt more like the odd-man out than ever before.

The outdoor shower washed away the grime but not the hurt and feeling of dread. I found it difficult to bear any weight on my right foot. It was very painful. I began to think of the 46 miles coming up in the next stage. "How in the world?" I mused. I felt depressed and sullen. Even the oven-baked pizza seemed bland and blah.

Rob, Troy, Anne and I slept in a rustic loft that evening. The ladder leading up through the hole in the floor was difficult to negotiate on hurting feet. Three times during the night, I woke up with a cotton-mouth feeling. Climbing down the ladder, I downed several glasses of water before climbing back to my mattress. Then, the process was repeated twice when my kidneys finally responded to the fluid. I massaged my feet with cream and came up with a plan for how to protect the blisters come morning. Though it was still difficult to bear weight, by the time my alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., I had convinced myself that everything would be okay.

"Get up and get going," my Dad used to say. "You'll feel better." I sure hoped he was right. Once I started, there was no turning back.

Tour de Virginia: Recap Day 3

If it's not one thing, it's another--But God is faithful.

Even as I started across the field and followed the wooded trail under cover of darkness, I felt the slimy coating of sweat begin to form on my skin. The humidity was oppressive, even in those early morning hours. With temps predicted to hover around 100 degrees later in the day, the combination would certainly be problematic.

But for now, other issues presented themselves. My progress was slowed as my internal plumbing decided to awake. A few stops along the way was not the loveliest way to begin the day. However, I continued to pick my way around one blow-down after another, soon realizing that the storm damage in this section was even worse than before. It was endless. Though my legs still felt very much intact despite the miles of the first two days, it was tiring to have to crawl, wiggle, and slither through or around the offending branches. It became so ridiculous that I lost interest in trying to be fast. Anyway, fast was probably impossible for me regardless of the circumstances. Rather, I pulled out my phone and snapped pictures. Somehow, I justified my slow speed by documenting the carnage in the forest. The pictures don't do it justice.

Had it not been for the toppled trees, the trail in this section would have been lovely; smooth surfaced and windy it's way through open hardwood forests. But that wasn't the case now. After relentless thrashing battling life and limb, I arrived at the first of many wooden ladders that provided passage over fences, thinking the difficulties were a thing of the past. Silly me.

I was glad to temporarily put the obstacle course behind me. As I climbed the ladder I realized the trail was leading me into new territory. The path traversed grassy meadows and open cow pastures. The countryside, with a lonely road below and old farmhouses and barns scattered across the landscape, was picturesque. For a few moments, the difficulty and frustrations of the past couple of hours vanished. I drew in a deep, cleansing breath. Ahhhh. Well, perhaps it wasn't quite as cleansing as I thought. The heavy scent of manure overpowered the sweet smell of cut hay. I turned my attention back to following the 2x4 inch white trail blazes painted on rustic fence posts while avoiding an unpleasant splat into a fresh pile of poo.

Again, the trail left the pasture to re-enter the woods. Disappointingly, it was more of the same. Every fifty yards, or so, there was another downed tree. This was getting to be very annoying. Then, it was into more pasture and open areas, now in the full blare of the brilliant sun. It was quite unpleasant to trek through this area. I wished for the protective covering of the forest.

I got it. But there was a price to pay, of course. More downed trees. Now I ran past a shelter and started a long, not-too-steep descent. Normally, a stream parallels the wide trail. I was wet-sweated and had been sipping routinely from my hydration pack. I really needed to drink more at the rate I was losing water. The data guide claimed many streams along this section. Surely, I would be able to refill in preparation for the coming 2,000 foot climb.

I was disappointed to hear only the faint sound of a trickle. There was certainly no gushing water washing over the rocks in the stream. I kept an eagle eye out for even the smallest pool. Finally, I left the trail to head down through the brush in an attempt to capture some of the precious liquid. While I was in the stream bed, Eric cruised by. He stopped and chatted momentarily. Though I expected him to catch me given my slow rate of speed, it was disturbing to see him so soon. I followed him for a while but he disappeared quickly down the trail. Eric must be half Ninja. No downed tree seemed to bother him. One moment he was on this side. The next, he was gone.

Now the trail leveled out into what I call a "bottom": mountain sides rise steeply on either side as the trail runs through the narrow gap. I saw my second snake of the trip, again pulling my phone to capture the black, slithering serpent for posterity sake. It was damp and lush here, a foot bridge leading me across a flowing creek. I considered stopping to again refill but decided otherwise when I saw water "foaming." I didn't want to risk drinking water that may have been contaminated upstream by humans, cows, or beavers. There was nothing to do but cross the dirt road and begin the wicked climb up to the 4,409' Chestnut Knob.

Continuing to be cautious with the amount I was drinking, I  pushed onward and upward on the steep and rocky path. A sign warning of the presence of bears caught my attention. About a mile from the top, I turned to see Rob and the ever-plugged in "Techno-Gadget TroyBoy" approaching from below. We exchanged a few words as they took the lead in pursuit of Eric, now presumably at least ninety minutes away. Not long after that, I placed my lips to the drink tube and drew in. Nothing. I could tell the bladder was collapsing on itself. Uh-oh. This could mean trouble.

The data book showed a spring-fed lake at the top of the climb, complete with a pipe and catch basin at the east end. I could see it now: a sparkling lake shimmering reflections of the clouds above, the pleasant sound of fresh, clear water flowing from the pipe, and a quick, refreshing dip in the pond to drown the oppressive heat. Trouble is, I nearly ran right past the pond. Rather than a beautiful sight, the surface was covered in a thick layer of green slime, bullfrogs croaking claim to their accommodations. The pipe and catch basin were bone dry, nary a drop to be found. Troy had already left. Rob was with me trying to wish water from the well. When that proved fruitless, Rob turned and walked away, leaving me to cry a few tears.

"Now stop that," I admonished self. "Don't waste what fluid you have. You may need those tears. Crying does you no good."

As I had no choice, I stood and walked back to the open and exposed trail across the flat mountaintop. Someone had scribbled a note on the wooden sign. "Next possible water 12 miles." I gulped, noticing that my dripping, sweaty skin was now as dry as Ezekial's bones. In fact, I must have stopped sweating sometime ago; even my once drenched shorts and top were completely dry. I was in trouble.

"God, I really need you. Help me. I need water. I don't really care how you do it. If you want to make it come out of a rock, fine with me. Or, send a shower if you like. Anything you choose is fine. But I really don't want to keel over out here."

With that, I dialed back my emotions as well as my speed. The prospect of no water for hours spawned the "fight or flight" instinct. I started running. Quickly, however, I reeled it back in. I needed to conserve what energy I had. I also found I had a cell signal. I placed a call to James, the crew chief, but just got his voicemail. "James, if you get this, we are all in trouble. No water for miles. Can you get to road crossing 623 and drop water? Thanks." I'm quite sure I sounded pitiful.

Eric had designed the event to be self-sufficient during the day. In other words, he would not have the crew meet us to offer support. We were on our own. Though an admirable approach, perhaps it was short-sighted given the extreme temps and unreliable (non-existent) water sources. I certainly felt increased pressure due to the arrangement.

As I walked along, I noticed something strange. My thighs, normally sporting wrinkly, saggy, cellulite-encased skin, looked tight and fresh. I stopped to take a closer look. Yep. They looked like my legs did twenty years ago, maybe even thirty. If being dehydrated meant better looking legs, maybe it was worth it. I decided to leave a note in the event I keeled over and died. "Last request: Please let my legs show in the casket. They look better now than any other part of me. Thanks for understanding."

After two more miles of trekking in the hot sun, I looked up to see a shelter silhouetted against the bright sky. Smoke from a small cooking fire rose into the air, providing a delightful scent. A young man, perhaps in his early twenties, milled about, his shirtless chest revealing a slim but athletic build. And there on the ground were two gallon-sized jugs filled with water. I was staring at the liquid gold when he turned and said, "Hi. I'm cooking up some fish I just caught. Want some water?"

Water? Sure! Fish? Where in the world did he just catch fish. It made no sense at all. In fact, I wondered if I was delusional. But sure enough, the water was wet and wonderful.

"Where did you get it?" I quarried.

"Oh, down the mountain about a mile and a half. I marked the way to the spring with arrows. It's an easy one to miss."

I thanked him profusely, told him Anne would be coming along shortly, and started down the mountain feeling revived and grateful. "God, You do provide. You are Jehovah Jireh. Thank you!"

The spring was little more than a slow drip out of pipe, a leaf directing the water into my bottle. I stayed there for as long as I dared, having another thirteen miles to conquer. Again, I made my way back to the trail, a relentless progression of ups and downs, footing rocky and treacherous. It was slow going, still hot and oppressively humid. The miles went on and on and on. Anne passed by, having made up ground on me. It was depressing to see her scamper by. I felt added pressure again knowing I would be the last to arrive back at camp. Though no one said it out loud, I was fearful  the other runners saw me as a monkey-wrench boogering up the works. I hated that feeling. Maybe I didn't belong out here.

Though continuing to be careful with how much I drank, my water supply quickly diminished. I was in trouble again. "Ah, Lord. Could you do it again, please. Water at the next road crossing would be wonderful."

After what seemed an eternity, I looked up to see a giant boulder marking the trail crossing. There, lined up like soldiers, were bottles of water covering the surface of the rock. There was even one can of lemon-lime soda. Knowing I was the last of our crew through this point, the contents quickly disappeared into my waiting stomach. Jehovah Jireh.

I was able to pick up a little speed (all relative, of course) in the last five or six miles. The trail become more runnable as it hugged the mountainside, past another shelter, and then descended to the road crossing, our camping spot for the night. I was overjoyed to reunite with the others, some now fresh and revived after their evening meal. James offered the best bacon cheeseburger I've ever eaten. The day had taken it's toll on everyone, as it turned out.

Now, I had to set up my tent, prepare my pack, and try to sleep before my alarm sounded at 4:15 a.m. Given my performance, every day would have to be an earlier start to keep the finish times within reason. It was a lot of pressure. More time on my feet and less time to recover and sleep. Was it a recipe for failure? Time would tell.

Tour de Virginia: Recap Day 2

After a sleepless, soggy night, I was anxious to get a jump on the 36-mile stage. I was the slowest and hence, was asked to start earlier than the others. That was okay by me. More dark meant less sun. The wet ground muffled my movements as I packed away the sodden hammock and gathered my wet pack. I hoped my light would not wake the others, still nestled in their tents. I wanted to steal away, unnoticed. Usually, I embrace solitude.

The trail immediately rose ahead of me as I set in for the long climb. Last night's storm, along with the storm two days prior that had rendered hundreds of thousands without power, wreaked havoc with the trail. As is my habit, I swept aside myriads of branches and limbs laying across the trail, thinking the action as a favor to my friends who would follow in my footsteps. However, after awhile the task proved endless. The damage was extensive and I could barely make a dent in the trail-clearing category. Nevertheless, once the climb ended, the trail began to fall off the mountain in a beautiful, gradual descent. I ran effortlessly, amazed that no soreness or stiffness resulted from yesterday's forty miles. My progress was good and my mood light. I wanted to put as much ground as possible between me and those who would be beginning their journey within the hour. I felt as though I was a mouse trying to stay out of paw's reach of the cat.

As the trail leveled out to cross a foot bridge, I glanced to the side to see a plastic bin containing "trail magic." A local youth group left packages of goodies and a cooler of water to service trail users. The small Cheetos package and baggie full of Fruit Loops and Lucky Charms proved too hard to resist. I was grateful for the unexpected snacks. Later, Anne would ask, "Did any of you eat Fruit Loops? I kept seeing them on the ground. It seemed sort of odd."

The trail rose again after passing through a lush bottom, topping out on a long ridge. Despite the rising heat, a stiff breeze provided an element of cooling comfort. My spirits were good despite endless negotiations with blown-down trees blocking the trail. I glanced often behind me when I heard the leaves rustle or a branch snap. I was sure the other four runners would soon catch and pass me. I pressed on, wanting to postpone that event as long as possible.

I was enjoying this portion of trail but found the path beginning to rise sharply, the trail strewn with rocks that made the footing challenging. Still, I dug in with my trekking poles and made good progress. Finally, at about 28 miles (I think), the first of the runners caught me. Shoot. I was disappointed that my hour and a half head start had vanished. The boys were impressed and perhaps a little surprised that it took them that long to catch me, the old, slow lady of the group. I was demoralized that they caught me at all.

Still, Anne remained behind me. This would be the only time it happened. I was moving well, very pleased that my legs responded to the call to run when the trail once again descended or smoothed out as we neared the town of Adkins, the stopping point for the day. But as would be the case, the miles seemed to be getting longer as time went on. I kept expecting Anne to catch me and almost wished she did when I encountered more massive, fallen trees barricading the trail. It was reminiscent of our SB6K adventure that demanded us to crawl, climb over and around countless tree obstacles. I laughed out loud at the mental picture of Anne falling headfirst and backwards down the mountain three years ago as we negotiated our way around a similar tough spot.

Imagine my surprise when I spotted Rob, who had charged past me an hour before, in the midst of crawling through another huge blowdown. I saw only his butt through the branches. "Nice technique, Rob."

"Ah, I've been here for twenty minutes. I can't find the trail on this side of the tree." He seemed very disoriented.

"Let me help," I said as I went around the end and joined in the search. He was right. No sign of a trail. I crawled back to where I entered and noticed another trail. The tree played a trick by falling directly onto a switchback. "This way, Rob. The trail continues up the hill."

He wasn't convinced. "We would be going south if we go that way."

"Nope. Look. We came from there," pointing to the trail below. "We need to go up." Finally, he was convinced and began to run in earnest as he again passed me. Though we had now entered an open field getting the full brunt of the sun, he flew down the trail in pursuit of Eric and Troy. Those boys were "racing," very competitive with each other even on the second of fourteen days. Not me. I continued on at my own focused but reasonable pace, just glad to arrive at the finish in one piece and feeling fine. Anne arrived perhaps ten or fifteen minutes later.

The waiting van carted us off to the backyard of a work associates of Eric's who lived nearby, but not before we all downed ice-cold sodas or tea. It was a relief to be able to drink our fill without worrying about where our next fluid source would be, as was the case during the day. A hot shower washed away any hardship of the day and a meal of pork and vegetable skewers filled our bellies. This was backyard camping at it's best. After the meal, prep for the next day was required before zipping closed the tent door. I called Gary to tell him about the day, wishing him a happy anniversary. Not too many husbands would be thrilled to mark 35 years of married bliss by having me in a tent far from home. Thank God for my partner in life and his encouragement to pursue crazy dreams.

To encourage sleep, I swallowed a couple NyQuil capsules and eventually found much needed rest. But all too soon, the alarm sounded at 4:30 a.m.asking me to start my day before the others even rustled. I felt rising pressure to step it up. My slowness and later finishes presented logistical difficulties for the others and I did not want to be the anchor that pulled the ship into the murky depths.

James carried me back to the trail and must have momentarily watched my headlight disappear into the darkness. Then, though I did not look back, I heard the van pull out as I made my way across the first field and into the wooded trail, munching on my breakfast apple in hand. The third stage was to be another relatively short day at 38 miles. (Endurance events have a strange effect on the concept of distance.) None of us had any idea of what was to come. Good thing. Perhaps none of us would have ever started.

Tour De Virginia. Recap Day 1

The truth and nothing but the truth. Herein lies my account of the 2012 Tour de Virginia, the 568-mile traverse of the Appalachian Trail (AT) with the borders of Virginia.

I had anticipated the event for months. Previous adventures lasted for seven days. Tough, to be sure. But this one was a fourteen day undertaking covering nearly 600 trail miles. That's a lot of ground to cover. I was pleased with my training, comfortable with my newly-acquired skill with trekking poles, and looking forward to pushing the limits of what is possible for me, a 55-year old woman who is given to grand ideas despite an aging body.

Troy, Eric, Rob, Anne, Me at the TN/VA border

Finally, the day came to gather in Damascus. We would be climbing to the TN/VA border on the AT. This round trip of about eight miles actually scared me. I was afraid that my slowness would be all-too obvious to the other runners. I didn't want to embarrass myself so soon.

Alas, my fears were unfounded and the group trip was pleasant enough. I knew Anne Lundblad well, having adventured with her three years prior on the record-setting South Beyond 6000. Of course, I knew Eric Grossman, the mastermind of the event, but not very well. He always finished hours and hours ahead of me at races. We really didn't have much of an opportunity to interact. But I did not know Rob French and Troy Shellhamer other than through Facebook encounters. I wondered how the group dynamics would play out.

James Grossman

Adam Bolt

This trip also included two other personalities. The crew chief, chef (a professional), and main driver was Eric's older brother, James. His sidekick, Adam Bolt, a recent college grad in search of a job, joined the crew. If this was going to work, our seven personalities would need to blend in a spirit of teamwork, camaraderie, and cooperation. None of us could go it alone and live to tell about it.




Once we returned from the trip to the border, the rest of the afternoon was spent between an attempt to relax in the near-100 degree heat and restless preparation for the first forty-mile stage. I got little sleep that night in anticipation. The plan was for me, the slowest of the group, to start at 5 a.m. so that our finish times could be close together. Others would begin at 7. Not. Eric beat everyone out of the gate with the rest of use close on his heals. The promise of record high temps, I suppose, caused the change of plans. The more time spent in pre-sun hours, the better.

Rick Gray

Rick Gray, having volunteered to spend the day with me, showed up bright and early. Off we went like a herd of turtles. It was hard to imagine what the day would hold for us. Over 10,000 feet of climbing was on the docket, including the difficult ascent and descent of 5728-ft high Mt. Rogers. Soon, Rick and I were the last ones in the line progressing toward the finish. My pack, filled with three-liters of water and food for the day, felt heavy on my shoulders. Eric planned for us to be completely self-sufficient during this race. No aid was planned for any stage from the time we started to the time we finished. We were on our own. I was concerned about this, considering the intense heat and humidity. It certainly promised to add a unique dimension to the event.

Thankfully, fellow runners, Beth Minnick and Jennifer Nichols, took things into their own hands, twice meeting the runners at road crossings. They came bearing snacks and drinks, a very welcome site! Good thing, too. Streams and springs, normally running full and free, had been reduced to a trickle, if even wet. This would take a huge toll as each stage developed over the next few days.

That first day was memorable for the rocks. Big ones. Little ones. Slabs of rocks. Pointed ones. Flat ones. You name it. The going was tough and slow. The heat made it seem even more difficult. I was ecstatic to finally see a couple of the acclaimed wild ponies. But eventually, with time and patience, Rick and I ran into camp, howbeit hours behind the finishers. Supper was waiting and the evening dance of eating, refreshing, setting up camp, and getting packs filled for the next day would be rehearsed once again.

I set up my hammock and climbed inside. But not for long. The winds came up and a storm was brewing. I quickly threw the rain fly over my sleeping cocoon as the first drops fell. I had stayed warm and dry in a storm before and felt confident I would be safe and sound. Problem was, I didn't properly secure the rain fly. The driving rain, punctuated with howling winds, the sound of limbs breaking, and loud claps of thunder, found it's way under the fly. By 1 a.m., I was cold, drenched, and shivering, not having slept a wink. What to do? What to do? It was a wild dash for the support van where James was sleeping in the loft of the Vanagan and Adam was drying off in the back seat after a similar soaking in his hammock. Curling into a ball, I spent the next few hours in and out of cat naps. By 4:20 a.m., I gave up. I stepped into the early morning darkness and wet, gathered my things, and took the first lonely steps up the mountain.

Last things first: My failure

My feet hurt but there have been at least three times in the past when they hurt worse. My legs were okay, still obedient when I asked them to run. I never really bonked bad. On good ground, I made decent progress. Problem was, there wasn't much decent ground. The thought of being out there on the trail at snail's pace for sixteen or seventeen hours was revolting, especially knowing the others would likely be in their tents by the time I got through. And, to do this again and again for the next nine days? Well, It's hard to say "I'm done." But I did.

I suppose I could start from the beginning, telling you all about every last detail of my short-lived adventure.  (And I will. Only later.) But I am compelled to speak first of the decision day. Day five. The day I said those three (two if you count the contraction) fatal, final words.

The fifth day of the Tour de Virginia, the 568-mile brainchild of phenom ultrarunner Eric Grossman, started early, but not as early as I would have liked. I knew going into the event that I would be the slowest of the five runners. Given the choice, I moved my own start time on days earlier into the wee hours, hoping to hold off being passed by the more able runners as long as possible. However, on this particular morning, I started at 5:22 a.m. along with Anne Lundblad and Rob French. We were all staring into the face of a 46-mile day in extreme heat and humidity. On previous days we found nearly every spring and water source had gone dry and expected more of the same. But that wasn't my only problem.

I felt sullen and alone the prior evening. The second half of the fourth stage went wrong. A blister deep under the ball of my left foot developed, making each step on the rocky ground painful. By the time I reached the end, I had again been on my feet and moving for over thirteen hours. Though a few other blisters appeared, it was the forefoot that made it nearly impossible to bear any weight. The thought of 46 miles by dawn's early light seemed impossible.

Then there was the issue of dehydration. Three times I awoke that night, prying apart my dry lips and hobbling to find dozens of ounces of water to quench the thirst. On two stages I had stopped sweating in the record temperatures. That couldn't be good. And sleep? What sleep? In the last five days, I had slept 2-4 hours at most per night. Something had to give.

My goal coming into this adventure was to be positive and  upbeat, like Anne Lundblad, always the optimist. I didn't do such a great job at that during the South Beyond 6000 event three years ago and didn't want to repeat that poor attitude. But even with much resolve, it was a struggle to see through the current challenges. I massaged my feet in the night, hoping to stimulate them back to the land of the living. I came up with a scheme for protecting the forefoot. I downed calories in preparation and packed more than normal volumes of liquid and food. Then, with the click of my stopwatch, the countdown began.

It was not long before the other four runners were out in front. It was going to be a long, lonely day--again. I knew the decision to start the stage was a decision to finish the stage. There was no support along the way. No one to pick me up. I was on my own come what may.

After several hours, the trail found it's way down into the town of Pearisburg. Though still early, the sun scorched me. I felt wilted and limp, much like the crops in untended gardens along the way. I even knocked on someone's front door to ask for ice water. It was only 8:30 a.m. but I was already coming undone. Thankfully, an unexpected pleasure of ripened blackberries along the narrow path provided temporary distraction.

Crossing the New River bridge, I pulled my phone from it's protective pouch and dialed Gary's number. "It will be a miracle if I finish today." I tried hard not to cry knowing he would worry. Still, I had no choice but to continue.

Not long afterwards, on a steep and rocky climb leading out of town, the skies broke into the conversation I was having with myself with thunderous claps and lightning strikes too close for comfort. Then the rain and the wind came. Instantly, my molten feeling turned into shivering. I had prayed to God for relief but felt this was a little overkill. Am I never satisfied?

Thankfully, the storm did not last long. Like a little bug, I drank from water-filled depressions in rocks. I couldn't count on springs and streams further up the trail. I would take anything. "OK, God. I am grateful for the relief and this extra water." I moved on.

Once atop a ridge line, I hiked and hiked, ran a little, and hiked some more. The hours piled up higher than some of the rock formations. Often, I glanced at my laminated card to see how far it was to the next landmark; perhaps a shelter or intersecting trail. But when I became discouraged at how long it took to get to the next destination, I pulled it out less often.

Before this adventure, I told myself I could get to the end by patiently hiking. How hard would it be to walk for twelve or fourteen or sixteen hours a day? Well, it was hard. Hard to be patient and hard to keep hiking. I realized I wasn't enjoying this. I wondered how David Horton and Jennifer Pharr-Davis did this for weeks on end. I knew to expect sore feet and blisters. I knew to expect down times. I knew I shouldn't make rash decisions. And yet, I knew that I really didn't want to do this for the next nine days. Perhaps I loved the ideal of the adventure more than I was capable of completing this one.

 

Finally, I got to the intersection of the Allegheny Trail. Five years prior I set a speed record on that trail. This was the southern terminus and I became emotional as I neared the sign. I was alone at the end in 2007 just I was alone now. Even my camera battery left me stranded back then. I snapped a picture this time.

Eighteen miles remained. The descents hurt my feet more than the climbs. As I marched on, I felt as though I was stuck in a time and distance warp. It didn't seem like I was making any progress. Each time I took out that blasted data card, the numbers just didn't work out. I tried calculating how much longer. Six hours. No, seven hours. Five hours? Still five hours? I was confused. Nothing made sense. Was I really moving forward? When I cried, I scolded myself. "Stop that. It's not doing any good. Just keep going." I did.

I knew I had to get to a road crossing before the final seven or eight miles; Mountain Lake Road, Route 613. That was my new goal. "Lord," I prayed outloud, "Could you please put it on someone's heart to be at that intersection? I don't want to be out here for another three or four hours." I had no one in mind. Anyone would do. But what were the chances, oh ye of little faith?.

Several miles later, a tiny sparkle of water caught my eye. I stepped off the trail to take in much needed water. As I glanced up, a t-shirt clad runner bounded toward me, wife and dog a short way behind. "Hi," I called out. He turned, startled to see me.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to be Rebekah Trittipoe, would you? I'm Kirby." Huh? I could hardly believe it.  I had put a link to his race on my website but we had never met. How he made the connection, I'll probably never know.

We spoke for a few minutes about my race. I mentioned I had decided to call it quits. "Well, if you need a ride, we'll take you. We were planning to run a half-mile more. If you want to wait, we'll meet you at the road."

"How far is the road?" I quarried.

"Maybe a half-mile." Wow. My journey would soon be over.

It was not long before I arrived at the mountain-top road, a lonely, empty parking lot (save Kirby's car) off to the side. Once the couple returned, I climbed in the back seat and started chatting with my saviors. The road down the mountain was very long and twisted. "That sure seems like a long way to go for a two-mile evening run," I offered, curious about their choice of venue.

"Yeah. We seldom come up here. Not really sure why we chose to come tonight. But the grandparents are watching our daughter and we ended up here."

I knew why they came and told them so. There's no doubt. God directly answered my prayer. Jehovah Jireh. God does provide.

After a deep, cleansing sleep, I can't say I have not second-guessed my decision to abort the Tour. Maybe I could have started another day. But then again, maybe the 102 temps would have done me in as much as my still-swollen feet. Doing this with no support during the day makes a difficult task even more challenging. Rob French also abandoned the effort yesterday. I am getting older. I don't recover as well as I used to. In those five days, I spent more than twleve hours more on the trail than the leader. That's like a whole other day for me. So, it is what it is. There will be no more triumphant finish line for me.

Do I regret starting? No. I would rather start and fail than never to have begun.

Am I crazy?

Am I crazy? Don't answer that. I might not like the answer.

What makes me think that I can run/hike/trek/waddle/or crawl 560 miles in 14 days, with a warmup of 8 miles the day before the real adventure begins? But actually, the new data says the mileage is really 597. That's not the kind of news flash I was looking for. I just had a friend ask, "Do you think you'll have to walk at all?" Seriously? Can you tell they aren't a trail runner? No matter the style or speed of pedestrianizing, that's a long, long way in a relatively short period of time.

There are five of us, one other girl and three guys, who are planning on traversing all the miles of the Appalachian Trail that reside within Virginia's borders. If you aren't familiar with the area, that means mountains, a lot of big, tough mountains. The Trail has a habit of going up and down, up and down, over and over again. Sure, there are great views along the way, but each one has to be earned by innumerable foot plants.

Why? Why not choose to flit away the summer in the refreshing waters of my backyard pool? To be honest, I'm not sure. I love doing that! But each of us probably has a different answer. For me, my longest adventures have been about 300 trail miles in a week. When this opportunity came up, I jumped at the chance to push the boundaries of what is possible for me. But now that it is two days and counting, the reality of what I signed up for is hitting me like a brick dropped from the Empire State building.

I've probably trained more consistently for this adventure than any other. Still, I'm not a poster-child for the high-mileage club--and never will be. I'm a 55-year old woman, not that I want to use age or gender as an excuse. It always seems like I have an ache or pain of some sort. The temperatures are supposed to be hovering around the 100 degree mark with high humidity to boot. Heat eats me alive. Water sources may be slim, making the task of being self-sufficient over 32 - 46 miles challenging, to say the least. From experience, I expect tendons to get crunchy and feet to swell after a few days. My eyes will droop more than normal from lack of sleep and good old-fashioned fatigue. But. . .

There's always a but. My "but" is simply that I thrive on learning lessons about pain and perseverance, joy in the midst of suffering, and tackling what most think is impossible. Is failure possible? Sure. A rattlesnake could strike, a bone could break, or the body could refuse to participate any longer. Still, I can't explain the quiet confidence I have in covering the distance. It doesn't make sense but I believe it to be true.

After Friday, June 29, I will take a sabbatical from blogging until I return home in mid-July. I don't dare take on any more pressure to find the means to do so after a long, hard day. I will need every ounce of physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual strength to make it through. I will try to post on Facebook from my phone as coverage (and batteries) allow. My husband, Gary, will also post updates after speaking with me on what we hope to be daily check-ins.

If you care to see where we will be, check out our itinerary. If we are passing through your area, feel free to come join us for a spell. And it almost goes without saying that an ice-cold soda or raspberry tea would be a fabulous treat!

Just one more day: Days 170 - 176

Day 170 – June 18, 2012

Track camp. 45 kids ages 8 - 14. Interesting experience. But it was one of those days that some work-related issues popped up, distracting me from dusk to dawn. I convinced myself that since I was tapering for my big upcoming run, I would settle for the measly 2.5 miles I ran with the kids.

Total – 2.5 miles

Day 171 – June 19, 2012

I was proud of about 15 of my XC kids who showed up for a team run at 7:30 this morning. Shrouded in heavy fog, we ran trails before some of us headed off to track camp for another three hours.

Total – 5 trail and road miles

Day 172 – June 20, 2012

More track camp today. Managed to get all 45 kids up the mountain to the LU gazebo. Then ran with the distance kids for several more miles. They were troopers in the 90 plus degree heat!

Total – 5 trail miles

Day 173 – June 21, 2012

There’s nothing like a run with the team before three hours of track camp. I am excited to have some new cross country kids come out for these informal practices.

Total- 5 trail miles

Day 174 – June 22, 2012

With the end of track camp, I gathered two of my favorite young runners, Sarah (aka UltraBaby) and her sister, Abby. Off we headed for a hot an huid jaunt in the mountains. With my big 568-mile adventure looming in a short week, the number of miles were not important. Besides, since we didn’t start until almost 2 pm and had plans for the evening, we lacked time. So this was a run more for my head. Plus, I love chatting it up with these girls and those we saw on the trail. A great run was punctuated with the superb Big Island extra-crispy French fries. Hum!

Total – 11 trail miles

Day 175 – June 23, 2012

This particular Saturday was scheduled for work. 80 + people were expected at a swim party and cookout for our little church fellowship on Sunday. Hence, my run started at about 9:30 pm. I ran a little more than I anticipated; the night was warm and inviting and I was feeling able. This was a great way to end the day.

Total – 6 road miles

Day 176 – June 24, 2012

Pool party! People! Food! That meant a lot of work but fun as well. I settled for a quick 8:30 pm run down the road.

Total - 2 road miles

Year-to-date: 1155 miles

Just one more day: Days 163-169

Day 163 – June 11, 2012

This was a light day as I had to squeeze in a short one before my dinner guests arrived. Still, miles are miles. I didn’t feel quite as quick as last night but the pace was decent despite the high humidity.

Total – 4 road miles

Day 164 – June 12, 2012

Ah. A trail run with newbie cross country wanna-be runners. It was fun and I am so pleased to have a number of new faces come out for our summer training runs. They all got their feet wet – literally- on this first of many trail runs.

Total – 4 trail miles

Day 165 – June 13, 2012

The run today was very different from yesterday’s. A trip to my son’s new (to him) boat in Hampton gave rise to running along marinas and old, cobbled-stoned streets lined with quaint houses more than a century old. The sweet smell of salty air and gentle breezes made the evening run quite pleasant. More to come for the next several days.

Caleb hoisting the jib sail

Total – 4.5 road miles

Day 166 – June 14, 2012

Still in Hampton at our son’s boat, it was a see-what-I-can-see kind of run. Not bad, even if was a sidewalk run. But, at least there was new stuff to look at. Felt good and stronger as I went. Then, it was a full day of work.

Total – 8 road miles

Day 167 – June 15, 2012

It was another day of non-stop work on the boat followed by mowing my father-in-law’s grass and getting his front flower beds under control. I finally head out the door to run at 9 pm. But that was OK. I love the dark and the false illusion of speed.

Total – 5 road miles

Day 168 – June 16, 2012

Another day on the boat meant lot’s more work and an evening run along streets lined with Victorian houses from centuries past. Of course, there were also the not-so Victorian areas that were no centuries old. They looked a lot worse than the old ones!

Total – 6 road miles

Day 169 – June 17, 2012

After battening up the hatches on Caleb’s boat and making the drive back from Hampton, a pile of mail, laundry, and getting organized again awaited. But the arrival of my INOV-8 shoes (233 for road and 268 and 308 for trail) made me relish my evening run. I really liked the minimalist feel of the 233s, feeling light and moving along A-OK. Good thing, too. On my return trip from the out-and-back run, I passed a band of country bubbas playing horseshoes in the backyard of their trailer home. Bare-bellied and footed, they kindly offered me to join their party. I politely waved and replied, “No thanks,” and kept on going despite repeated invitations. One of the fellas came running after me, making it all the way down the 40-yard driveway before retreating. Not exactly worrisome. They were just a little drunk.

Total – 7 road miles

Year-to-date: 1119

The legacy

The morning was cool and inviting. Drawing in the air, still damp from an overnight rain, I stepped out the door for a run. In the early dawn, I had the streets of this quaint village to myself. Trees eighty feet tall rimmed the perfectly manicured yards. Flowers cascaded over stone walls like water rushing down the falls. In the middle of town stood a granite tribute to the fallen soldiers of the Civil War, approximately one hundred-eighty names strong.

Still running down one hill and up another, I turned onto a particularly steep street. There at the top, an old cemetery stood guard over the hillside. With the mist rising into the first rays of dawn, it was breathtaking. The straight rows summoned me to run amongst the graves. The dates on the stones indicated the long history of this town. There were simple graves marked by small, flat stones, the etchings worn and barely legible. Tall monuments stood nearby in contrast, perhaps indicating the social standing of the family. Some plots bore multiple graves; fathers, mothers, children all buried side by side.

But tucked into a corner and away from the hundreds of other graves stood three headstones. I noted one stone held a bronzed plaque with the standard information; name, military rank, date of birth and death. Oddly, the other two headstones were plain granite slabs. There were no names, no personal information, no way to connect to the past. Perhaps the tombstones were intended for those who yet lived. But I was confused. Remnants of flower arrangements and plastic bouquets surrounded the markers as if out of respect for the dead. If the remains of the deceased did share that hillside, it was not much of a legacy for either one.

Then I thought of another cemetery far away. My Father died before my sons were born. They never got to know his character. They never heard him play that dented E flat horn. They never heard him laugh or see him weep. They never got to play wiffle ball in the backyard or ice skate with him on frozen creeks. They never heard him pray or teach a lesson. They only know what they have been told and what they have read. Even so, if they visit Dad’s gravesite, the legacy my Father most wanted to leave can be seen. Into his tombstone is etched, “Only a sinner saved by grace”.

It is a fitting synopsis of a life fulfilled. Nothing else really counts. Nothing else really matters. Not money. Not fame. Not position. Not accomplishments. For without that work of grace in our lives, we are as stone cold as the granite marking the site.

For by grace are we saved by faith, and that not of ourselves, it is a gift of God, not of works, lest any man can boast. (Ephesians 2:8, 9) 

(Excerpt from Pace Yourself: 366 Devotions from the Daily Grind, CrossHouse Publishing, 2012) 

Just one more day: Days 156-162

Day 156 – June 4, 2012

I tried to run more, I really did. But alas, I just wanted to get in the car and start driving to my mom’s house in PA. It was going to be along drive and I wanted be on the road headed north. So when I got down to the big turn in the road, I turned right around and headed back. I guess this is the lead off to a relative rest week with a long run on Sat. when I get back.

Total – 2 road miles

Day 157 – June 5, 2012

The first run back home is always a treat. It’s a spin around my old stomping grounds that prompts memories. It’s a juxta-position of old verses new. The old stone houses still stand but farmers’ fields have given way to packed-in housing developments. My old high school has been bulldozed and a new one stands in its place. New playground and parks are in place but in a little-used section stands an ancient, tall slide that liability policies would never allow to be built today. Of course, I had to have a slide on my way by. It’s good to be home.

Total – 6 road miles

Day 158 – June 6, 2012

Another day of running down memory lane. Despite the growth of way-too-expensive housing developments that have sprung up in the fields I remembered as a kid, the little towns of Perkasie and Sellersville, PA are still quaint and lovely. I love the old stone houses, manicured lawns, flower boxes, the town’s baseball field and thick wooden bleachers beneath a green roof, standing since the early 1900s. Even the streets are quiet and empty at ten in the morning. The high school football stadium looks the same as always. Even the seats by the press box where my Dad and Mom used to sit remain. This was a wonderful place to grow up!

Total – 8 road miles

Day 159 – June 7, 2012

I love running in my home town. Every corner, every street holds special memories. I loved every step today!

Total – 8 road miles

Day 160 – June 8, 2012

I ran by dawn’s early light. Well, not really. The sun was already up at 6:30 a.m. but so was I. It was a quick 4.5 miles before an eight hour drive back home to Bedford.

Total – 4.5 miles

Day 161 – June 9, 2012

After a week of being away from home, I couldn’t really stick Gary with all the weekend chores. So with limited time, I chose a section of the AT I had never run before and was able to squeeze in a decent run before picking up groceries and finishing off the mowing, baking brownies, bread, and preparing food for company tomorrow. It feels good to put in a full, productive day!

Total – 20 miles

Day 162 – June 10, 2012

Running at dusk and into the dark, I was so excited. After a 20-miler yesterday, I ran lighter and faster than I have for a long time! No soreness, nothing hurt, and I could feel like I could run forever. Perhaps this is why I run: the every-once-in-a-blue-moon feeling of freedom and swiftness.

Total – 6 road miles

Year-to-date: 1074 miles

Just one more day: Days 149-155

Day 149 – May 28, 2012

Memorial Day! After entertaining about fifteen guests last night, we enjoyed some down time today with Gary’s sister and husband who came for a short overnight visit. I got in some miles before the temps warmed up hotter than the first cup of coffee.

Total – 6 road miles

Day 150 – May 29, 2012

I think I am stuck in a 6-mile rut but that’s what I could handle (and not well) on a hot (90) and humid day. Ugh. I really don’t do heat all that well. Thank goodness for a pool to jump into!

Total – 6 road miles

Day 151 – May 30, 2012

It was well worth the six-mile drive to Bedford’s Falling Creek Park. I am really tired of running the same road routes and opted for the narrow, quiet trails in the park. It was peaceful and shaded, a gentle wind blowing. Lovely “me” time after sending off my final manuscripts to my publisher.

Total – 7.5 trail miles

Day 152 – May 31, 2012

What a great way to end May. I ran 16 miles of the MMTR to Hog Camp Gap and then jumped on the AT going south to make a big loop back to my car. 33 miles in all. I was very pleased with the run/hike expect for the last 4.1 miles…which were almost all up a big, ‘ol mountain! But I took care of the calories deficit on the way home with extra crispy fries and a BLT in Big Island.

Total – 33 gravel, forest road, and trail miles

Day 153 – June 1, 2012

Wow. June already. Time flies. After 33 in the mountains yesterday, I was pleasantly surprised with my little road run. I even made it up the two big hills without having to take a break. My quads are a little sore but not bad (Garmin said I had 11,000 of descent and 10,000+ of climb. I think that’s too much.) Still, everything worked fine once I started running.

Total – 6 road miles

Day 154 – June 2, 2012

It sure was a beautiful Saturday. So beautiful, in fact, that all the outside, heavy-duty, manual labor was calling my name all morning and into the afternoon. I should have known I wouldn’t feel much like running after that. I feel a little guilty running but four miles when I probably could have gotten in another long run…if I had been willing to not get any work done. Decisions. Decisions. Decisions. It’s all about balance and the work side on out today.

Total – 4 road miles

Day 155 – June 3, 2012

Another beautiful day begged to be enjoyed in so many ways: A great time at church, a nap in my hammock swaying beneath the fruit-laden grape-vined trellis, and a run along country roads. Ahh….

Total – 7 road miles

Year-to-date – 1027 miles

Just One More Day: Days 142 - 148

Day 142 – May 21, 2012

Whew. Track is finally over. I’ve enjoyed coaching but ten months straight is a lot. Now, I have some freedom to run on my own and according to my schedule. With that in mind, I ran country roads, enjoying the warm, sunny afternoon. The sky was a brilliant blue with white and silver clouds silhouetted against the canvas. Beautiful!

Total – 7 road miles

Day 143 – May 22, 2012

Sometimes it’s hard to get in the car to drive somewhere to run. So it was out the door and down the road today before working with the chipper to make more mulch for my flower beds.

Total – 6 road miles

Day 144 – May 23, 2012

Summer cold, go away! Out of nowhere, I started the stuffy, sniffy, low-grade fever thing last night and felt rotten all day today. I was tempted to do a one or two miler but once I started, I could breath much better. My run turned out to be a standard 6-miler that felt comfortable---expect when I saw a cat, being chased by a dog, get thumped by an oncoming car. Not nice. The car won that battle.

Total – 6 road miles

Day 145 – May 24, 2012

Wow. This cold has put a hurt’n on me. Fever, chills, achy head and chest congestion. Not good. I managed two miles but called it a day. I am feeling really wrung out. Hope it doesn’t last too long.

Total – 2 road  miles

Day 146 – May 25, 2012

Well, I sure don’t feel much better. This was supposed to be my long run in the mountains but even my fingers ache. So it was a real commitment to head down the road. I figured it would be two and no more. It was just two but the run took on a whole new meaning when I met a new neighbor and chatted for about twenty minutes. This was a God-ordained run!

Total – 2 road miles

Day 147 – May 26, 2012

I wasn’t sure how I felt when I woke up but I sure hoped it would better than the last two days. It was. I was able to tackle a number of outdoor tasks and was pleased with my progress. So much so that I thought about sneaking off to the mountains in the afternoon. Boy, am I glad I didn’t! When I headed down the road, my chest was very heavy and my energy low. The jostling made me hack up gross stuff, which I presume is good. But it sure makes a run difficult. Perhaps I’ll be able to make up my missed long run on Monday, Memorial Day.

Total – 6 miles

Day 148 – May 27, 2012

This warm Sunday was going to be a busy day. Church in the morning and house guests all afternoon, evening, and some for overnight. I knew it would be best to get up early and knock out a few miles before church. Besides, I hardly wanted to run when it was sunny and 90 degrees! I was glad to feel much better than earlier in the week even though I still have some chest congestion. I will have to figure out a way to make up for my missed long run in this coming week.

Total – Total 7 miles

Year-to-date: 958 miles

Simple pleasures

Ah. The windows are open, a fan gently whirls, and birds sing their evening praise as the sun begins its game of hide behind the backyard trees. I love times like these.

I also like unexpected pleasures. On yesterday's run, I spied some beautiful flowers growing along side of the country road. I couldn't resist. I stepped into the ditch and started pulling at them. The stems did not break easily, so there I was, running down the road with a handful of flowers, roots and all. I'm not sure if I delighted more in the flowers or the strange looks I got from the few people whizzing by in their cars.

When I smell the scent of freshly cut grass, my mind goes back to my dad and his riding lawn mower. He loved to come home from his dental office and climb onto that tractor. It soothed him. It made the pressures of a solo practice disappear for awhile. Maybe that's why I anticipate my sessions with our lawn mover.


Then, there's the quiet of my house. I'm fortunate to work from my humble little office. It certainly is convenient to grab my coffee and head upstairs to work each morning. Heading down the stairs for a snack has its advantages as well. I can dress up, dress down, or not dress at all when I head to work. (OK. Scratch that last comment. The visual picture is not pretty and hardly what I intended to say.) Anyway, though I sometimes have a hard time leaving work upstairs, I enjoy my situation.

Feelings and memories are wonderful: The warm spring air, the scent of wildflowers, a garden becoming crowded with green, the churn of the pool pump motor, the gentle lapping of the pool water, the energetic bunny that scampers across the driveway, the drone of a plane hidden behind billowy white clouds, the pop-pop-pop of tar bubbles bursting underfoot as I run along warm country roads.

I love this life and it's simple pleasures. Thank you, Lord.

Just one more day: Days 135 - 141

Day 135 – May 14, 2012

The team and I took a short run on the way to the track before doing the last hard workout of the season. Well, they did the hard workout. I just ran laps in their recovery periods.

Total – 5.5 road and track miles

Day 136 – May 15, 2012

This was basically a rest day for me. A few lowly miles with the team.

Total – 2.5 miles on gravel roads

Day 137 – May 16, 2012

As a team, we ran incorporated two half-mile pick-ups within the context of an easy 4 mile run. Short and simple with the state meet coming up on Saturday.

Total – 4 road and gravel miles

Day 138 – May 17, 2012

The country roads called my name with sunny skies and a gentle breeze.

Total – 9.0 miles

Day 139 – May 18, 2012

I was glad to get to the mountains today but was reminded what the heavy rains (up to 9 inches) of earlier this week can do to trails. Many were a mess, some were terribly overgrown, and the streams turned into rushing torrents! I had wanted to get in a few more miles but time was short and I had to get to practice and then meet friends for dinner at their home. By the time I got home, I was worn out.

Total – 24.2 trail miles

Day 140 – May 19, 2012

This was the closest I’ve come to missing a run. I got up at 6 AM, spent the day with the team at the state track meet, and got back to the school at 11:15 PM. After cleaning things out of the bus and loading up the car, I slipped into my shoes and went for a quick spin around campus. It actually felt great to run alone in the dark. I was pleased to feel quick and light despite the mileage the day before. So glad I didn’t weenie out by not running.

Total – 2 road miles

Day 141 – May 20, 2012

I really thought I would run two miles and call it a day. I was really tired from a couple whirlwind days. But I decided on my standard six-miler and ended up licking flowers along the way! It was a nice way to end the week although I have to say, the few cars that passed by did a double-take at a runner carrying a bouquet down the road.

Total – 6 miles

Year-to-date: 922 miles

Just another day: Days 128-134

Day 128 – May 7, 2012

With a workout on the track that required my attention, I squeezed in a run before practice, manning the stopwatch as the kids whirled around the track.

Total – 6.5 road miles

Day 129 – May 8, 2012

This was our last trail run of the outdoor track season. With a little adventure on the side, we did a tour of two off-the-beaten-path cemeteries. What a great bunch of kids who love to explore!

Total – 5.6 trail miles

Day 130 – May 9, 2012

This was a mixed up day that resulted in less than intended miles. I’ve been working at a school all week, met one of my athletes for a special practice after that, had a track meet canceled, got rained on, then ended up at home to get dinner on the table. Hence, low miles.

Total – 3.5 track and road miles

Day 131 – May 10, 2012

After working a full day, I was glad to hit some easy, flat trails before heading over to a track meet. Felt good to run.

Total – 5 trail miles

Day 132 – May 11, 2012

Gary and I shared a ride to and from work today—at least part way from work. He dropped me on a country road and I ran the rest of the way. With the sun shining and a light breeze, the tour of back country roads was a great way to end the work week.

Total – 7.2 road miles

Day 133 – May 12, 2012

With our team having to host the conference track meet at a school other than our own, a huge chunk of the day was used to set up, run, and clean up afterwards. I managed to get in some miles on trails in the Blackwater Creek area in Lynchburg. It was nice to find some off the grid trails that I had no idea were there. Apparently, not many other people know about them either. They are true single track and not well-traveled.

Total – 8.5 trail miles

Day 134 – May 13, 2012

I am a little disappointed not to get in a long run this week. At about 45 miles, it was one of lowest in the last couple of weeks. The problem this week was that I actually had to go to a job everyday this week in addition to my regular jobs (teaching online, writing, and coaching) Free time was non-existant. I am hoping this week will be better.

Total – 8.5 road miles

Year-to-date: 867 miles

Just another day: Days 121 -127

Day 121 – April 30, 2012

For a day that was forecasted to have a 20% chance of rain, it was wet, foggy, and drizzling all day long. At least the temps were in the 60s. A jumbled schedule at school meant that only a few of the distance kids showed up. However, with an easy day on the docket, we enjoyed a short road run.

Total – 4 road miles

Day 122 – May 1, 2012

Whew. After a cold and rainy spell, I’m not sure I was prepared for 80 and humid. I even had to strip my short sleeves off and run bare belly despite the old abs not being extraordinarily attractive. Oh, well. At least the 62 degree pool water cooled me off in a hurry.

Total – 6 road miles

Day 123 – May 2, 2012

Off to the woods with the team! We had a blast, taking a newly created trail that has eight stream crossings and ends up at a wonderful swimming hole at the bottom of a water fall. Needless to say, on a 90 degree day, every single one of us got a purposeful, complete soaking. It was so much fun!

Total – 5 trail miles (and lots of goofy around)

Day 124 – May 3, 2012

With a meet tomorrow, the practice schedule I made up in these weeks leading to States, a light practice was scheduled. And light it was. 3 mile around campus with a stop midway to get a free ice cream cone! Creeks and waterfalls yesterday. Ie cream today. Who said running with the distance team wasn’t fun?

But, I did feel a little guilty. When I got home, I got in another run right before another storm hit.

Total – 7 road miles

Day 125 – May 4, 2012

Just another lap around my country block. Not very exciting.

Total – 6 road miles

Day 126 – May 5, 2012

With cloudy skies and on and off rain, I sure enjoyed a run on the AT. The rhododendrons were in full bloom and beautiful! Even though it was an out back run (from Bobblet’s Gap to Salt Pond Forest road), I didn’t mind. A great section of trail!

Total – 21.6 miles

Day 127 – May 6, 2012

Things to do. People to see. Places to go. Finally cleared the way to a couple miles late in the evening.

Total – 2 road miles.

Year – to – date: 822 miles