ENDURANCE RUN: FANTASIES AND FAIRY TALES

What’s real? I had the courage to sign up for a 50K trail run: Ninety-percent single track, ten-percent gravel road. Unlike the cowardly lion, I deemed myself unafraid.

Sure, I’m an amateur, but I’ve put well over a hundred races in the notches of my belt. Let’s assume that I know the idea is to show up on the designated race day well in advance of the pre-race meeting. Unfortunately, my Jeanie had another plan and I started fifteen minutes after the race was already underway because I got lost. (A tip for any future competitor: there is more than one Skyline Drive. I highly recommend referring to the race website www.badtothebone.biz for directions.)

But then... Bel Monte, held on the Blue Ridge in Virginia's George Washington National Forest, starting and ending at Sherando Lake, was more fun than being first in line at Disney Land’s entrance gate.

I had dreamed feverishly about this grand day. I had superimposed the possibilities of becoming a super-athlete. Think Superwoman. I anticipated being more fit than I’d ever been. I had imagined raging up the mountains as if it were as easy as turning on the television. I thought running this Endurance Run would give me the same kind of rush that one might experience skydiving. You with me?

Ten times we crossed a narrow, shallow river. Ten times I hesitated in mental weakness. Ten times I laughed out loud at my hesitation once I had crossed. I’m a Goofy girl.

Out on the course, there was Beauty and the Beast. The online profile of the course showed the obvious changes in elevation, but I underestimated the 6300 feet in ascents. It’s never quite the same as it looks on paper. However, up the mountain I charged. My short legs were covering just inches per stride. Two tall men passed me on the seven-mile incline. Like Jack climbing the bean stalk, up the mountain I persisted. By this time, I had covered nearly three-quarters of the course. I knew chicken noodle soup awaited on the summit; I overheard two wise women talking about it at the previous aid station where I had loaded up on chocolate and cola. I am not the only runner who believes in the three C’s: Chocolate, Cola, and Confidence. Or is it Chocolate, Cola, and Craziness? Well, either one works. Better that than green eggs and ham.

It snowed steadily all day. The sky probably unleashed four inches of the amazing white powder that fused with the landscape forming ice upon the rocks. Snow White would have been pleased. I, too, prefer snow over a cold rain. This area of Virginia coupled with the snow reminded me of where I live in New Hampshire. “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” I traded in my ruby red slippers for a pair of Montrail running shoes: an excellent choice.

The tree branches forced to hold the weight of the snow, met in the middle creating a bridge above the winding trail. Even with my five-foot frame, I sometimes needed to crouch below the splice through the enchanted forest. Occasionally, as I wisped by the trees, plants, and shrubs, they waved or shot a pile of snow at me like a grenade.
Nevertheless, I followed the single track trail happily, as if it were the yellow brick road. I realized what it meant to have tunnel vision. In some instances, I ran fluently taking the obvious path of least resistance, pretending I was being chased by the Big Bad Wolf. In other instances, I stepped carefully, placing my foot, like an anchor, in between shards of sharp rocks.

Another competitor, we’ll call him, “Humpty Dumpty” was drooling blood from his knee to his shin. This was a competitor showing his commitment to rapidity. I opt for the rule: safety is more important than speed. My boss always says, “Accuracy is more important than speed.” My mind always progresses to the next phrase, “Except when you don’t have time.” There was a time limit of 10 hours.

Seven hours, 23 minutes, and 52 seconds is how long I was out on the course. (The race clock is different, since I’ve deducted the fifteen minutes that I was late.) Whoa, Cinderella! That’s a long time running. I finished feeling like I could run further. I wasn’t actually about to attempt it on Saturday, March 25, 2006, but someday soon. You make your life what it is. Are you fulfilling your fantasies? I am. I plan on running the Vermont 50-mile trail run this coming September. If you’d like to join me, look for the princess.