Reflecting at Stone Mill

I was ready to drop at mile 8 and again at mile 13.  I felt fine, pretty good actually, and the day was gorgeous, but my heart was just not ready to run another 37 miles.  So many things going on in my life, my thoughts scattered like a dandelion in the wind, and I couldn't focus on what I needed to do.

 So I told myself to just get to the river, to the towpath, and decide.  Lucky for me, I am too stubborn to quit, and as they almost always do, things got better.  The heaviness lifted and even though my legs were suffering, I made it to mile 29 where my first drop bag was waiting.  I didn't really need anything, but knowing it was there gave me a boost.  Unlike last year, when my husband accompanied me to this race, I was going solo this year.  At my house everyone was going in different directions, and I felt strangely and uncomfortably lonely.  I knew I could finish, just didn't know if I wanted to.  So I looked around, breathed in the beauty of the day, and reminded myself how lucky I was to be out here on this Saturday in November.

Trail running has become more of a challenge since the Evil Sisters have slowed their pace.  I find that I am gravitating back to road running, and oh how I miss those days on the trail.  I reminded myself of this as I shuffled along the C&O Canal towpath.  I was pleasantly surprised at the time, and knew I was going faster than last year.  At the 35 mile mark, I had no doubt that I would get to the finish.  My quads were screaming on each and every downhill, so I just let the momentum take me and hoped that there was no unseen root that would catch my foot. None the less, I did fall once, a slow motion fall that was met with a welcoming cushion of mud and pine needles.  Even the ground knew that today I just needed a break.  I stayed deep in my thoughts, barely talking to anyone, just letting my life play out inside my head.  This is what running gives me - the time to sort out, to reflect and to breath.  I haven't been breathing enough lately.   Not those big belly breaths that signal peace and contentment.  I have been a whirlwind of decisions, planning, scheduling, and trying to formulate a strategy for my next move in my career and my life.  Scary things and not usually compatible with the tranquility of running.  But running was exactly what I needed.  Time alone, time to consider.  Before I knew it, the sun was setting and I was at the second to last aid station searching my drop bag for my light.  I didn't need it yet, and wouldn't for another hour or so, but just the security of having it made me feel better.  Last year I had a mini panic attack in the darkening woods with no course markings in sight. This year, as I passed each reflective strip, I said a little prayer that I still didn't need the glow it provided.  Eventually, however, I did, and that is when I fell in with other runners who also felt the confidence of camaraderie on this darkened trail.  We traveled together for a few miles until the end was clearly visible.  I was able to charge up the final hill in my best toe tipping run, and finished well before the 13 hour cut off.   I was tired, sore, but satisfied with my run and my day.  What began as a hesitant journey in the darkness ended as a comforting, smile inducing effort for which I am so grateful.  No matter what direction I take in this life, it feels better to be doing in on the trail.
And hot soup at mile 47 is good too!