Kevin's Cup Trail Race

    I absolutely LOVE trail runs! It is a new and glorious outlet for my seemingly endless nervous energies. Yesterday just reinforced my desires to run trails, for fun and in races. Kevin's Cup, a casual affair where many of the entrants were sporting mustaches, real, fake and drawn on with eyeliner. There were costumes and even a B52s style pink beehive wig. I ran in my standard attire; pigtails, cold gear running pants and shirt, striped hoodie, purple fingerless gloves and lucky running hat. Of course, in my standard M.O. I got a late start, then took a wrong turn, and ended up pulling onsite just in time to be reassured by all the mustaches at the starting line the second before the starting horn. So I found a parking spot, strapped on my Merrills and knee brace, sprinted for the check-in table, and hit the trail a solid 10 minutes behind the pack. I am okay with late starts, I am not in this to win glory or prizes, and it allows me to run solo instead of crowded within the mass of competitors. Unfortunately, this was not a chip-timed race, so everyone gets the same start time, which did mess with my stats. But No Big Deal. I felt great. My legs moved easy, my breathing was steady. I ran up the road, trying to find the way. I stopped a soccer dad, "did you see a bunch of runners come through here?" He pointed up the road, I ran on. Knowing I had to be reaching the trailhead I saw another guy, "Runners?" "Take a left at the crosswalk," he pointed. Groovy. I was on my way. The trail was beautiful, wending its way through autumn forest, the path littered with fallen leaves emitting that particular, pungent spice of  Fall. I ran easy, feeling great, waiting to see how my legs would hold up to that first mile. I have said, "The first mile is the hardest," since it seems to take me forever to truly warm up and find my stride. Not this day. I ran easy, let myself pick up my pace a bit, letting my feet find a smooth steady rhythm, lungs working easy, blood coursing strong. I ran along, happy, peaceful, feeling fantastic.
    Oddly, I came out into an open area, and through the distant brush I could see the glint of parked cars. Rounding a wide curve, to my dismay, the starting line came into sight. I must have gone the wrong way. I ran back to the registration table, sure I would be told to turn around and find the correct trail. Instead, to my relief, I was told, "No, just keep going." The trail was a figure eight. Happy, I ran on. Now the trail became more interesting, steep downhill switchbacks leading to a sandy beach, a small water crossing, then through a boulder strewn section. I scampered over the stones, feeling like a lithe gazelle, surefooted, legs feeling like corded steel springs. Yes, I know I over glorify in my mind as I run, but it is a response to my marveling over the changes in my own body over the last 9 months. Last winter I never would have imagined that I would be running in any race. Running? No. I had told myself for a lifetime that "I am not a runner." Now, once again, I was proving myself wrong. There are times when it is wonderful to be wrong.
    I ran on, and started catching the stragglers of the pack. Catching and passing. I felt glorious. I let myself power walk the steep uphills, knowing I could walk them faster and with less energy expenditure than I could run them. I reached the crosswalk and headed into the section I had already run, and felt elated knowing I was so near the finish line. How could I be feeling so great? I picked up my pace, letting myself put in a nice kick for the last 1/4 mile. The finish line came into sight, I smiled, and picked up the pace a bit more. I see a small group of semi-official folk lurking about, "Woohoo, keep it going, one more lap to go," they shout encouragingly. One more Lap? What. The. Hell? The absurdity hits me, I laugh at my over-confidence and arrogance that had been so strong just a few moments before. I see the time clock, I had been running for 34 minutes. And I felt great. Seriously. Great. I ran on, eager for more running, happy it wasn't over yet.
    Retracing my footsteps, still enjoying the run, the trail, the sights and smells. The sun breaks out and warms my back, illuminating the forest, glinting off the wet leaves. It is a glorious day to be running through the forest. I run. Downhill. Switchbacks. Sand. Water. Dance across the rocks. Uphill. Legs pumping but moving easy, lungs cooperating. I feel great. Yes, there were a few points when I started feeling a little fatigued, when my legs didn't want to move quite so easy, my lungs wanted to rebel. I did have to take a few hits of the asthma nebulizer. But I ran on. When fatigue threatened, or my breathing started feeling laborious, I focused on my technique. Head up, shoulders back, relaxed, deep diaphragm breathing, feet landing softly. A footfall, not footstrike. Oxygen pulled fully into my lungs, nourishing my muscles. Then my energy would return, and I felt great.
    Striding back into the open area, the glint of parked cars. I was nearing the finish. The True Finish Line. I pick up my pace, keep my shoulders relaxed, my breathing easy and deep. I make a kick for the finish line. I feel great. I cross the Finish Line. See the time clock. My final time is 54 minutes. I am thrilled that my second lap actually came in 4 minutes faster than the first lap. And I feel great. I love Trail Running, Trail races. I want more. I think I may have found the event that will take precedence. Maybe. My life is full of fun events, exciting endeavors, new adventures. I do Love My Life.