Bumps in the road

This year has been one of the best for me in a long time in terms of running.  After slowing down my pace, I can now run all the races I used to run, as well as start training for ultras and running trails.  Haha, suck it injuries!

My friend loves running trails, and since I like running and mountains, it only seemed logical to give trail running a try.  When my friend suggested running a trail race near Lake Biwa in Shiga Prefecture, it seemed like a great location and a great opportunity to add another "first" to my list of races.

However, this was the first year this race was held, so when we signed up all we knew was the location (Takashima trail) and distance (40K).  We had no idea of the course, elevation, or anything else.  I should have known better.

As more and more information came to light about this race, the more nervous I became about running it.  Particularly the elevation profile, with a total gain of 3000 meters.

Then, the cut off times were revealed.  The first cut off time was more than reasonable, allowing 5.5 hours to get to the 22k mark (12 p.m.).  The second cutoff time was at the 33k mark, and only allowed you two hours, cutting off everyone coming through after 2 p.m.  The last seven kilometers had a time limit of two hours, with the total cutoff time for the race being 9.5 hours (4 p.m.).                                                                                                                                                           

    I wavered back and forth about whether or not I should attempt this race with these considerations, if I should try to switch to the short course, or bail at one of the aid stations...  Asking questions at the reception tent the day before the race did nothing to allay my fears, and I headed out race morning with no clear strategy in mind except the cut off times for each aid station ricocheting around in my brain.

Race morning.  It's cold!

I've never run a trail race before, so I was unprepared for how crowded it would be.  I ran the first 10k much faster than I was planning, because I felt pressured to keep up with the people ahead of me and go fast enough for the people behind me.  No one asked to pass me (which I thought they were supposed to) but I felt like I was being "tailgated".  So I would occasionally step aside to let someone by, but then get stuck there while everyone decided to pass me.  It was actually quite stressful.

Then, as I was coming down a rocky road to the side of the ski lifts, I took a tumble on my left knee and rolled several feet down the incline.  Luckily, I was only 200 meters from the 10k aid station, so I kept going and asked if they had a doctor on staff.  There wasn't anyone there, so I had to wait for about 15 minutes until someone came with a medical kit and medical experience.  They cleaned it out and bandaged me up, and said I was free to continue if I wanted.  However, that cost me between 20-25 minutes, having already lost 15 minutes waiting in line around the 5k mark to climb a rope.  I was now almost 40 minutes behind, but not of my own choosing.

I was most sad about ruining my pants.:(

All cleaned up.

I still made it to the second aid station with an hour to spare, so I decided to see how bad the second mountain was before the third aid station.  I had heard it was horrible, and the descent wasn't much better, but I had decided I at least wanted to make it to 33k in the race, even if I couldn't finish.

That mountain was a bitch.  Pardon my language, but seriously.  On the elevation profile, it looks like you go up one big mountain, then get to descend some, with the occasional uphill.  Nope.  In reality, it's basically an 11k mountain with no switch backs, interspersed with steep descents that make your quads want to cry.  Luckily, I was climbing with a nice group of people who all looked like I felt.  When I reached the top of what felt like the 73rd mountain, I asked the man standing at the top how many kilometers until the next aid station.  I was at 7 hours on my watch, and had only 30 minutes to make it to the aid station in time. He said maybe 3 or 4 kms, so I took off, only to be greeted by yet another uphill.

Here I made a decision.  Having heard from the reception desk people that it could take 2.5-3 hours to do the last 7 km, I knew that even if I made the third gate in time, the likelihood of me finishing the last 7 km in time was slim.  So I slowed down, and decided to take my time getting to the third aid station, and if I was cut off, so be it.

Sure enough, I reached the third aid station at 7:39 on my watch.  They asked for my number and my timing chip, and escorted me to the food and the bus back to the goal line.  As I reached the aid station, another bus full of people retiring from the race was just leaving.  I'm curious to know the percentage of finishers of this race, as it did make me feel better that I was in good company on my ride of shame back to the finish.:)

But in all honesty, my legs were toast and that 11k from 22-33k completely did me in.  I was nervous that if I was too tired and fell down again, I'd seriously be in the hospital.  I think stopping at 33k was the right thing to do, but there's always that nagging part of my brain... if I hadn't stopped to go the bathroom and eat at the 22k aid station, if I'd gotten up and left immediately after getting patched up at the 10k, if I'd run the tiny 100 meter bits in between inclines instead of walking... because my friend who ran the race with me said she ran the last 7 km in only an hour and a half, meaning I probably could have finished the race just in time had I made it to the 3rd aid station earlier.  

So it was a learning experience all the way around.  I do love running trails, and I had a great time training for the race.  But I don't like working under strict time constraints, and I don't like feeling crowded and pressured.  I can't really say that I enjoyed any part of this race, besides the brief moment we ran through a neighborhood and the most adorable old lady waved happily at me from her doorstep.  I might try another shorter trail race in my neighborhood in late spring, but I think I'll stick to racing on the roads, and leave the trails to explore on my own time, as I please.

Not the victory photo I was hoping for, but it was still an accomplishment and my friend had a GREAT race!

Children of the Corn

I stepped out of my house this morning for my run, turned the corner, and walked into a cold, windy world of misery.  Adjusting my ipod and walking past the abandoned house formerly occupied by a creepy old man, a giant gust of wind blew my headphones out of my ears.  "Fucking hell!" I exclaimed, while fumbling to retrieve them.

I heard a strange rustling to my right, and turned to look towards the overgrown cornfield.  Brown corn stalks leaned precariously at all angles, supported only by a company of dead vines and weeds.  From the earth itself rose a small hump, slowly morphing into a wrinkled obaachan.  She came silently out of the cornfield to stand expressionless, judging me.

"Samui desu ne." I greeted this apparition, turned on my ipod and ran away.

In Japan, it's typical to make repetitive complaints about the weather over and over again for an entire season.  It gets to the point where you want to physically hurt someone if they exclaim how hot or cold it is one more time.  I promise to spare you from that ear pain by getting it all out of my system right now.

I hate cold.  I hate the dark and cold.  I hate running in the dark and cold.  I really hate running in the dark, cold and wind.  Obviously, rain/snow plus dark, cold and wind is a scenario too gruesome to be imagined.

During the week, I run in the evenings because it's slightly warmer than the mornings and I suck at getting up early.  Our village has very few street lights and an abundance of wildlife. Most evenings, you can find me running in the pitch black with a bear bell jingling on my bum, my only light the weak beam coming from my head lamp.  Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of shiny yellow eyes in the bushes, and if I'm lucky, unidentified black shapes dart across the road in front of me. I pray the bears are too busy getting ready to hibernate to bother me.

The other evening I made the mistake of trying to do speed intervals in the park next to the river.  As the air cooled on the river, mist rose off in waves, and combined with the bouncing beam of my headlight, I felt like I was running in a club with a strobe light and fog machine.  It was making me a bit ill.

When I return home to my warm, lit house I find my tights have been attacked by various burrs of all shapes and sizes.  I've become the Johnny Appleseed of weeds, carrying their seeds on my legs and distributing them throughout the land.

I strip off my tights, long sleeved shirt, fleece and gloves. It's only about 10 degrees C outside, and I'm not even hot.  Come January, I will most likely be running in full ski gear.

This will be me! Photo credit: Nagoya Women's Marathon

And why am I running?  Because I have an early March marathon.  And because without consistent cardio, I gained over 15 lbs in the last 2 years that I've only just this year gotten rid of.  But mostly, it's the race.  You get a Tiffany necklace!  I know I could just go out and BUY a Tiffany necklace as after you add in the marathon fee, hotel, and train tickets, it might have worked out cheaper, but that just seems so much more extravagant.  It seems way more logical to run a marathon for it, don't you think?  And then there's that June 100k I'm contemplating....

But back to the cold. Someday I will live in a place that is warm. All the time.  Preferably a small tropical island tucked quietly away somewhere.  But with my track record in tropical places, I will probably inflict a 1 woman climate change...

Jeju Island, South Korea

Noto Hanto, Ishikawa Japan

Iriomote Island, Okinawa

Port St. Joe, Florida