Week 4... Zen running and the uphill battle
This morning was my Week 4 long run. I decided to meet with the fall team this weekend, since they would be running 10 miles and that was about what I wanted to run. The winter team was only running 45 minutes (and I can assure you that I cannot run 10 miles in 45 minutes to save my life). So my alarm went off at the brutally early hour of 4:30am, and I dragged myself out of bed and slurped down a bowl of oatmeal and a banana. After getting my running gear on (not sure if any of it matched, it was too dark to tell, and too early for me to care), I headed out the door to make the long drive over to the Rock Island Trail, our meeting place for this weekend.
The trail starts in a little town north of Peoria called Alta, and stretches some 26 miles to the north (26 miles? Can you say "Peoria Marathon"?). The town of Alta is named that because it is a high point relative to its surroundings. This means, if you start running in Alta, and run out of Alta, you're going generally downhill. And if you turn around and run back toward Alta, you're going generally uphill. Our route would be an out-and-back route, so I knew I would have to face the "gentle" uphill toward Alta.
I arrived at the gravel parking lot at about 10 til 6:00, and I strapped on my iPod armband, pulled off my warmup pants, and secured my Amphipod around my waist (safe keeping for my car keys, Jelly Belly Sportbeans, and Chapstick). The other winter team members began arriving too - about 7 in all, plus our coach. It was still dark outside, a twinge of blue was just appearing in the east. We jogged lightly to the 0 mile marker on the trail, set our stopwatches, went over important course details (where was the Gatorade hidden? and were there any bathrooms along the way?). And off we went, into the misty, chilly morning.
I watched as the faster runners ran ahead of me. Soon, I couldn't hear their cheerful banter anymore. It was just me, the trail, and my iPod. The majority of the trail is flanked on both sides by thick, tall trees, providing shade and glimpses of nature. Squirrels and chipmunks darted across the path. Birds chirped happily as I ran past (or maybe those were angry chirps of "go away, human!"). The soft, dusty trail made a pleasant crunching sound with every footstep.
My strategy for this run was to walk for 1 minute at every mile marker. And this is exactly what I did. I maintained a comfortable pace and the first 5 miles were, dare I say, easy. Although, I did manage to get lost at one point, and strayed off the path for a few hundred yards before realizing I was going the wrong way (this detour occurred in the town of Dunlap, where the "trail" is actually on the streets of Dunlap - I missed one of the signs telling me to "turn here"). I got to the 5-mile marker feeling strong, and I did an about-face and started my journey back to base.
As I mentioned before, running toward Alta is primarily uphill. And it felt harder coming back. I could feel my knees starting to ache, and my breathing becoming more laboured. My pace slowed slightly. But I still maintained my Run-A-Mile-Walk-A-Minute strategy. I stopped twice on the return trip to get some much-needed Gatorade. Despite feeling a little sluggish, I couldn't help but notice that the sun had come up and the sunlight filtering through the trees was simply awe-inspiring. Fingers of light were dancing across the path. It was incredibly peaceful. I began to pass more and more people - runners, walkers and bikers. All of them gave a friendly "Mornin'".
As I got closer to the end, the running started getting pretty tough. But I was close, so I pushed harder. Finally, I could see my coach ahead, and I knew he was just a few hundred yards from the 0 mile marker. I ran past him and he gave an encouraging cheer, and I "sprinted" (it felt like a sprint, but I'm sure it looked like a liesurely jog to the casual observer) to the mile marker. I had done it.
It wasn't the first time I had run 10 miles. But I think it was certainly the most spiritual one. I was connected with nature, with myself. I really should run the trail more often...
The trail starts in a little town north of Peoria called Alta, and stretches some 26 miles to the north (26 miles? Can you say "Peoria Marathon"?). The town of Alta is named that because it is a high point relative to its surroundings. This means, if you start running in Alta, and run out of Alta, you're going generally downhill. And if you turn around and run back toward Alta, you're going generally uphill. Our route would be an out-and-back route, so I knew I would have to face the "gentle" uphill toward Alta.
I arrived at the gravel parking lot at about 10 til 6:00, and I strapped on my iPod armband, pulled off my warmup pants, and secured my Amphipod around my waist (safe keeping for my car keys, Jelly Belly Sportbeans, and Chapstick). The other winter team members began arriving too - about 7 in all, plus our coach. It was still dark outside, a twinge of blue was just appearing in the east. We jogged lightly to the 0 mile marker on the trail, set our stopwatches, went over important course details (where was the Gatorade hidden? and were there any bathrooms along the way?). And off we went, into the misty, chilly morning.
I watched as the faster runners ran ahead of me. Soon, I couldn't hear their cheerful banter anymore. It was just me, the trail, and my iPod. The majority of the trail is flanked on both sides by thick, tall trees, providing shade and glimpses of nature. Squirrels and chipmunks darted across the path. Birds chirped happily as I ran past (or maybe those were angry chirps of "go away, human!"). The soft, dusty trail made a pleasant crunching sound with every footstep.
My strategy for this run was to walk for 1 minute at every mile marker. And this is exactly what I did. I maintained a comfortable pace and the first 5 miles were, dare I say, easy. Although, I did manage to get lost at one point, and strayed off the path for a few hundred yards before realizing I was going the wrong way (this detour occurred in the town of Dunlap, where the "trail" is actually on the streets of Dunlap - I missed one of the signs telling me to "turn here"). I got to the 5-mile marker feeling strong, and I did an about-face and started my journey back to base.
As I mentioned before, running toward Alta is primarily uphill. And it felt harder coming back. I could feel my knees starting to ache, and my breathing becoming more laboured. My pace slowed slightly. But I still maintained my Run-A-Mile-Walk-A-Minute strategy. I stopped twice on the return trip to get some much-needed Gatorade. Despite feeling a little sluggish, I couldn't help but notice that the sun had come up and the sunlight filtering through the trees was simply awe-inspiring. Fingers of light were dancing across the path. It was incredibly peaceful. I began to pass more and more people - runners, walkers and bikers. All of them gave a friendly "Mornin'".
As I got closer to the end, the running started getting pretty tough. But I was close, so I pushed harder. Finally, I could see my coach ahead, and I knew he was just a few hundred yards from the 0 mile marker. I ran past him and he gave an encouraging cheer, and I "sprinted" (it felt like a sprint, but I'm sure it looked like a liesurely jog to the casual observer) to the mile marker. I had done it.
It wasn't the first time I had run 10 miles. But I think it was certainly the most spiritual one. I was connected with nature, with myself. I really should run the trail more often...
posted by Emily at
5:25 PM
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