trail racing in the heat near florida, (ma)

2007 Grand Tree Series Race #8 - Mt. Greystone Trail Race 13.5 miler
A few months back, a new friend (who happens to also be a psychologist) and I were discussing trail running.
Although she was polite as to the 'why', I volunteered that I like not knowing (entirely) if I am going to finish in a certain time...and some times even if I am going to finish. There is most certainly a awesome feeling when I do get to that point when you cross the finish line ~ no matter the finishing time.
At that point she mentioned that maybe I like the adrenaline rush that this provides.
An adrenaline junkie? Me???
I've thought about that a while and wondered whether it is because I really do enjoy the adrenaline or if I enjoy something similar (like the pain). "No". I am a wuss.
So this spring, I've had a few hours to ponder why I run trails.
The best answers so far?
I like being an underdog to a task and relish the sense of accomplishment from completing a task and doing it thoroughly. Especially so on one that is challenging.
I like doing the things that the average person believes that they cannot do.
I like trail runners. They (and I include myself in this sub-population now) are an interesting lot.
This is especially so when you meet people who have just done their first trail race and see what comments they offer up. It brings you back to why the minute the first event ended, you started planning the next one.
This weekend was a great case-in-point.
Mount Greylock arrived with absolutely pitiful preparation both physically and mentally. I haven't been sleeping well or enough due to work and life, I've run a handful of times since Soapstone and nothing longer than 6 miles although my splits have been coming down (as usual) due to the demands that I get back to work in a hurry. I've eaten way poorly in the last few weeks. Each could make for a bad race. All together, they did make for a less-than-stellar event.
My punishment?
I got to run in the woods for a few hours.
Life could be worse, eh?
The day started late. I wanted to go back to bed. It was Father's Day and I should be the epicenter of my children's world! Breakfast in bed! Huzzah!
I got to the race late and actually had to run to the starting line. Thankfully, I did get to chat with a few friends I have made on the courses this year and got some course feedback. With a new course due to the road being rebuilt, no one knew quite what to expect, but any advice is good advice.
The course basically went up and skirted the top for about 2.5 miles, down for about 2.5 miles to a water stop, turn around and almost perfectly back-track back up and then the down was slightly altered and fast. Somewhere around this point (10 miles), the 4 liters of fluid (water and nuun) and the shotglass of pickle juice that I had downed were simply not enough to prevent cramping. Not twitching like at Soapstone. Cramping. Lightning bolt cramping right up the calves, hamstrings and right to the ishial tuberosities (collective groan by all of the sports med people out there). All the way up there.
The problem here was that the course re-tracked not 200 feet from the start / finish when this happened. For the first time since my first 7 Sisters, I thought about quitting in the middle of a race. I mean, after 40, "DNF" stands for "did nothing fatal", right? I thought and thought. I headed out back onto the short (3.5 mile) loop. I'll walk for a bit and keep hydrating. I'll hit a GU and see what happens.
What happened?
More cramps. Stronger cramps. Storm clouds passed to the immediate east. I was tempted three times to just pack it in. Being stuck in unfamiliar woods with an electrical storm and cramping is *not* good.
I am not sure why, but I didn't stop, even when the bolts in my arse were more than the bolts in the sky. Even more cramps. I apologize to the people that thought I must have been giving birth with each incline.
There came a point where the course did a quick loop not 50 feet up a steep hill only to turn right back down and pass right to the base of the same hill. Easy to just cut off this useless appendage as easily as cutting off my useless legs at that point. But.....no.....one.....did. That says much about trail racers. Not a single road racer would have done that. Trust me.
Somewhere on the way back, the cramps became less frequent, although with every toe catch, they were certainly just as painful. About 1.5 miles from the finish, I started to run again, albeit slowly.
A slow finish (2:27:10), but considering where my brain was even 40 minutes beforehand, I was damn intrigued to see what was really inside my gray matter.
We'll see what the next few weeks holds. I've already paid for the Assault, but with the muscle damage I've done in my legs from this event, I may take some time off and save it for People's Forest.