Trail of Terror

"Have fun at the race tonight" "U want to run? We have an extra bib" "I'd fucking kill myself on a trail run, but thanks"

Trail runs and I don't mix. At least I don't think. I'm clumsy. I didn't really get to run much of the 5K that morning as one of the guys was having knee issues, so I was still itching to get a run in. Some people were doing the quarter marathon trail run. 6.55 miles, that wouldn't be bad.

"Could I do the quarter marathon?" "Yes, you can even walk it. Mental toughness for IMAZ" and with that I was in.

It was cold as balls last night. It was dark and the trails were snowy. It was my first race with a headlamp. It really had disaster written all over it. After all I've been known to fall over in the snow, landing on my hands and knees. Hell, I even fell over one day just standing. I shifted my weight in new shoes and BOOM! I went right over. Like a tree in the forest.

The quarter marathoners go first. The first quarter of a mile in isn't so bad. The sun is setting, I'm in the trees watching it reflect off the snow, it's cold and quiet. Then I hit the trail that's a single file path, the packed snow is starting to to get icy from being packed down, the trail twists and turns just inches away from the drop off into the water. That was about enough to get me to back track, but I kept going.

It's now dark and here come the half marathoners behind me. There's not enough room to run two wide, they're now on me like a heard of gazelles going after the injured pray. I step off the course and let them all pass by wishing them good luck.

There goes Robert and then Marti and Chris and then Andy. I'm a little over a mile in and I know the marathoners are hot on my trail. There goes Joey. Everyone asks how it is, I give the same reply each time, "I fucking hate this."

Finally, I'm alone as I head to the middle of the reservoir across the gravel and out of the woods. Across the water I can see all the headlights in a line winding their way through the woods. I have to admit it was pretty cool to watch. I actually am enjoying the race at this point.

Back to the woods and reality sets back in, I fucking hate this. I'm realizing a trail run is a terrible idea for someone who usually shuffles as they run. At this point my arches are burning, my hip flexor in my right leg is hurting so bad I can barely life my leg up. I'm crying tears of frustration, I want to run but can't. I pass mile marker 4 and realize that my watch is showing me .35 miles ahead of the markers. Goddamnit. I totally want this to be over and I'm further away from the finish than I thought.

About mile 4.5 I'm about to get lapped by the half winners. I feel frustrated and embarrassed and then think who fucking cares, it's about me, not them. I just don't want to get lapped by my friends. hahahha

There's a series down trees that are pretty high and can't be walked over. At this point I'm having to lift my right leg up with my hands to get it over as my hip flexor is screaming "fuck you" as much as my head is screaming "I fucking hate this."

There's a bridge that ends with a 45 degree angle down. At least 10 people in front of me bite it. At this point I've been happy I haven't fallen, and now I'm afraid I can't avoid it. I wait until there's no light behind me to make my way. I am 10 inches from making it off and I hit ice, slip and twist my right knee. My leg flips behind me and my head thuds against the ground so hard my headlamp flies off. I hear "Chrissy are you okay?" Of fucking course someone who knows me saw bite it. It was a nice friend of a friend, he offered to help me up, but I just needed a minute to regroup.

I get up and my leg is hurting, but it's also pretty frozen after being in the woods for 2 hours, so I'm not sure the depth of the damage. I can walk on it, but it hurts so I limp my way in. 1 mile left and it was the longest mile ever. Fear set in and I started crying hysterically. Shit, I knew I shouldn't have done this, that feeling in my stomach it was a bad idea. Have I fucked up my knee bad? What if this takes me out of training and I can't do IMAZ.

Robert comes up behind me and gives me a hug and then some tough love. "You're walking on it, it's going to be okay." I tell Robert to go ahead and he finishes. Then he comes back to walk to the finish with me, guiding me down the large steps, for which I'm grateful.

My friends in the car talk me off the cliff about my leg being fucked up and help bandage up my bloody knee.

This race was a dumb idea. I'm not brave and adventurous enough to do shit like this. I'm not athletic enough. For the first time I actually thought about trying to find a short cut to finish. But in the middle of the dark woods, that would be a double fucking dumb idea. At the 2nd aid station I thought about asking to get a ride back. Then I woke up and was like wtf. Pretend this is the last few miles of the Ironman and you gotta pull your shit together to get to the finish.

I haven't cried tears of frustration and embarrassment in a race in a LONG time. I felt like a complete pussy, BUT I realized how far I've come. And how much further I still have to go.

I saw all these posts about how some people loved last night. I got bummed out wishing I would have liked it more. Then I realized I don't have to like everything I try. I remembered I don't have to like what other people like. Like a friend said, I tried it, don't like it so now I can focus on what I like.

I don't see anything as a failure if I learned something.

I woke up with a little bruising, a nice gash and some swelling. I was on my bike this morning for 90 minutes and then another hour this afternoon, so I guess I'm not so much of a pussy after all. Maybe in a few days I can get into my car without picking up my leg to get in...