march 12, 2010. running with hallucinations.
yesterday was a helluva run. somewhere around 12 – 13 miles, from my home to Wrightsville beach and back. the first half was humid from the recently passed storms, with the sun lifting steam from eastwood road. running and running and running, a purely physical act, a wholly physical awareness on this stretch. . . . I had one gu gel drop (surprisingly tasty), as my energy began to wane. the heat forced me to ditch my jacket, stashing it off a wooded trail. I finally passed the ICW over the (slippery) draw bridge, to the park where I swished some water and one gu gel drop, turned back into the breeze. it wasn’t a quarter mile that the drizzle began, as the gray of the northern sky darkened, then blurred out, then the downpour was battering me. my shorts and shoes were immediately soaked, my shoes suddenly two pounds heavier and my gait sloshy and irritated. nothing to do but run. the rain and wind cooled. fifteen minutes later I came into my trail entrance and grabbed my jacket, the rain continuing. . . . I cut back through some neighborhoods, away from traffic noise, and began to really zone in on mental aspects of the run. I watched the end of my asics, seeing the toe box kick and land and roll, kick and land and roll. . . . . the rain was steady and hard and I began to watch the rain drops falling from my hair, my arms, my knees. I began to see the individual crystal drops sling from my feet, four or five pure drops from each kick. I watched them dissolve into the asphalt, the puddles, the grass, to be absorbed back into the land, quartz seeds. I saw the whole syncopated motion of the rain, representing the dynamics of my body, as it fell from me in different trajectories and directions and fell away. and I kicked with various levels of the hip, with the bottom of the lungs, with the knees, a strange dance with the rain. and I was drenched. and I could taste the clean rain. it was ecstatic.
this hallucinogenic period lasted perhaps two miles, and then the weight of my shoes, the additional pressure of the sides of my feet from my swollen shoes material, the abrasion of my inner-thighs eleven miles deep and still a good distance from home, rudely ripped me back into the physical act. crossing Market street was deadly as ever, precarious, and I finally popped across and into the home stretch. showered and rehydrated, I spooned up some hot beef stew with hot coffee and relaxed out with some avett brothers & iron and wine. . . . . work would begin soon enough.
the packets of gu gel indicate that they enhance strength, endurance and focus. my focus kept reminding me of the film
Jesus Son in which crudup’s character, on a smorgasbord of drugs, says of his ride through a storm: “I knew every rain drop. By name.”
I have started experimenting with the gels as I am looking at longer runs. specifically I am looking towards the gator trail 50k at the end of this month, uncertain whether I can be ready so soon. . . . more to come!
III. march 15 2010. disappointment at
steve haydu lo tide run, daylight savings long run with s. and j.
# of miles this year: 273 month: 73 week: 12
anton krupicka. . . . . scott jurek. man alive.
thoughts of running the woods behind my grandparents house when a young boy. I would cut a sheath outta bedsheets, shove my dull rusted machete into the sheath (normally it would cut my poor threadings within five minutes of hiking), and venture into the woods. a narrow creek, called seven mile creek, divided the woods, with steep red clay banks and overgrown construction paths. it was the late 70’s, and charlotte was young and proud, and our little stretch of undiscovered beauty called concord was innocent and pastures and pastorale. in these woods I discovered and sought god and was brought to a higher awareness than with my grandparents or mother at dinning room tables and churches and other rushed occasions.
this weekend brought the haydu lo tide st. patricks 10k, brought my goal-time of 43 minutes upon completion, only to learn that the timer was (evidently) for 5k runners, five minutes staggered. while I am still confused but no longer resentful at the deflation, my actual time was 48m yielding a 7min 36s pace. my efforts that day reflected a huge improvement over my first 10k (run for the chowder 2007), also in Carolina beach, and were pleasing considering I made a wrong turn (not that it cost me much time) and was pushing a wall from the second mile on . . . . was a one-mile-at-a-time type run. the heat was punishing the second half of the run and I’ve written enough about the run. though i must mention, finally, the fact that this was one run where the volunteers smoked, even though this event is a cancer benefit and promotes health awareness. . . .
that was saturday, and we pushed the clocks forward one hour after a busy shift that night. the “spring forward” factor was not considered when I agreed to a 12 mile run sunday morning with j. and s., and I found myself pushing into shoes at 6h30 am, my body’s 5h30 am, having fallen asleep at about midnight. . . . my run started smoothly, was good to see the guys pre-sunrise sunday morning, and away we went to Wrightsville beach. s. fought nausea as last night’s wine boiled outta his hips and stomach and legs. j. spoke of his recent reading and his little girl and the upcoming 10k in Richmond, where some eight thousand people will run (literally) shouldertoshouldertoshoulder (sounds horrible); it is the second largest 10k in the country.
light began seeping across pines and marshes and grocery stores as the first three miles passed with little issue other than a cold wind pushing against us on a surprisingly chilly 50 degrees. but push into it we did, to the beach where the sun was burning the churning ocean-mouth and wind pushed the spume into slow sprays and the few moments paused made the run worthwhile. meanwhile water was necessary, and we paused at the salt-marsh long enough to cool off, then get cold, then realize we were cold and wet and running back into a cold headwind. legs tightened and breath constricted and the ninth mile passed at the corner of Eastwood and Military Cutoff turned us into the new sun. a dark storm collected in the northern sky, which formed a full rainbow at mile 10. a double rainbow formed briefly, a brief respite, and the toll of miles and limited rest and etc. brought my quads and my calves into a concrete stiffness and my legs began failing the pace s. and j. carried easily ahead. I lagged. then the strange pain in my right foot kicked back in—like a lateral muscle on the sole getting ripped on the final movement of the kick, seemingly off of the second toe. I lagged. and I lagged worse. eventually I finished with my friends congratulating me and giving me high fives and just good comradery even if my running isn’t at their level.
back home where kyote and kas and myself cleaned up, had asiago bagels and dark coffee, enjoyed the sunny sunday.
(ky and best bud everett at their respect one year and six month b-day celebration!)the rainbows were awesome, the ocean burning new under the first sun of the week was inspiring, but the run was the fourth circle of the training inferno. . . . I am doubtful as to my aptitude of completing the gator trail 50k in two weeks, less than two weeks as I write this monday morning. and I lost another toe nail over the weekend, the second to go this year! oh the sacrifices!
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