tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82514966842359694342024-03-14T02:25:28.178-07:00 Trail Running Rules. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-66207602495895064112015-07-05T05:21:00.000-07:002015-07-05T05:21:23.548-07:00Cross-Training….Do I HAVE to?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1unLGlVnSVdQ_CAPn5UOZozejHlv4UaD3Cf7m6DP818e4eiY-HROvUlt-fvXkWS332g0UYEBkYhQQ2sh0xC8UPuSZUsP4OrgtHR0L3_eKFHRR1w4Y-LD1BjXGuyVMt9Zv9qIqURa_kI/s1600/funny-fitness-quotes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1unLGlVnSVdQ_CAPn5UOZozejHlv4UaD3Cf7m6DP818e4eiY-HROvUlt-fvXkWS332g0UYEBkYhQQ2sh0xC8UPuSZUsP4OrgtHR0L3_eKFHRR1w4Y-LD1BjXGuyVMt9Zv9qIqURa_kI/s400/funny-fitness-quotes.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am NOT a gym rat. On a beautiful day, the last place you
should look for me is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anywhere</i> with
four walls and a roof. Air conditioning is for sissies, dumb bells are for
meaty ex-football players and treadmills are reserved for the truly insane. I’ll
stick to the trail, the sunshine and the suffocating humidity of summertime in
RVA. Because I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>a gym rat,
that’s why. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ok, so that’s how I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">used
</i>to feel about going to the gym and about Cross-training in general. Until
last summer, and the moment of truth: the first bikini try-on of the season. I
dug my triangle top and itty-bitty bottoms out of the drawer and shimmied into
my summertime uniform, hoping for the best. I was greeted by my old friends, flappy
arms and poky belly. What the heck, man?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the time, I was averaging almost 40 miles a week out on
the trail and was in the best cardiovascular shape of my life. So why did I
still feel squishy, jiggly and not at ALL ready to strut my stuff at the pool?
Why? Mainly, I flat-out refused to cross-train <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">or </i>strength-train, leaving my legs in great shape from all that
running, but the rest of my body pretty neglected and flabby. Why did I
consistently skip the cross-training? Mostly because it’s not that fun and
partly because I’m ever–so-slightly addicted to running. If I’ve got an hour to
spare and the weather is even remotely OK, you can bet I’m not going to spend
that hour pumping iron or dancing in some dang Zumba class. You can find me in
the woods. For sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, as
I’ve learned, running and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only</i>
running doesn’t get you any closer to those Halle Berry arms you’ve always dreamed
of. Not only that, throwing in a little cross-training can really spice up your
routine, helping to prevent burnout and running-related injuries while strengthening
muscles all over. Not to mention, (gasp!) it is pretty fun. Sometimes. Here are
some of my favorite cross-training workouts; perfect for folks who would really
rather be running, but who also enjoy looking fierce in a strappy tank top. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cycling.</b> Cycling
is probably my favorite non-running workout. It’s a great low-impact choice for
those days when you want to blast some calories but need a day off from
pounding the pavement. Grab your mountain bike and head to the
beginner-friendly trails at Pocahontas State Park or go for a neighborhood ride
with the kiddos. Your bottom will probably<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
not</i> love that bike saddle, but your legs will thank you and your brain will
love the change of pace and scenery. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Weight-lifting.</b>
Building muscles and toning your body all-over just makes you feel <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">strong</i>. Stronger as a runner and as a
human. Whether you use your own body weight, free weights or circuit-training
gym equipment, tossing a couple of these workouts into your weekly routine can
make you a leaner, fitter athlete. Strengthening your leg muscles can make you
less prone to annoying running injuries, and strengthening your upper body will
make you look buff. So that’s a win-win. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yoga.</b> I love
getting in a nice Yoga workout the day before a long run. It really gets the
kinks out while promoting flexibility and strengthening those upper-body
muscles that we runners tend to neglect. In our world of constant stimulation
and multitasking, it’s a gift to be able to unplug for an hour to be calm and
quiet, focused on your breath and on what’s going on in your body. That
calmness usually stays with me for the whole day after a good Yoga session;
plus, I typically have a more successful long run the next day if I take care
of that Zen stuff ahead of time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiF14U-zN1RTmalQKiIWCg_SBeApx2iB-SGKuw5ihivCxZAR7gJTQIKQMFubV0p36bZBTl3-7vgDQJGtLLZ05UNd1Rj3xJRMYsodbj5GPXTgoZ8FFbsoYifKpMGa4mw7wo1snCcVXlVo/s1600/swim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiF14U-zN1RTmalQKiIWCg_SBeApx2iB-SGKuw5ihivCxZAR7gJTQIKQMFubV0p36bZBTl3-7vgDQJGtLLZ05UNd1Rj3xJRMYsodbj5GPXTgoZ8FFbsoYifKpMGa4mw7wo1snCcVXlVo/s320/swim.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Swimming.</b> For me,
swimming is the toughest of all cross-training options. If I’m ever feeling
like I’m in pretty awesome shape, I’ll hit the pool for a few laps and a large slice
of humble pie. Usually within about 10 minutes, I’m hanging over the side of
the pool, trying to catch my breath and even a sliver of my pride. Along with
being one of the only major cardiovascular workouts that targets both the arms
and legs, swimming is great for practicing breath control and recovering the
day after your long run. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Group Exercise
Classes.</b> I enjoy my solo hours out on the trail, but a high-energy
group-exercise class can be pretty sweet too. It’s nice to have someone else do
all the work-out planning; all you have to do is show up and be ready to work
hard and follow directions. Even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>can
do that. During each class, I almost always find a new exercise that I love and
can incorporate into my solo workouts at home or at the gym. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cross-training will probably always be a challenge for me; I
sometimes have to talk myself into going to Cycle class or picking up those
free-weights. A few times, I’ve been driving to the gym to get in some reps in
the weight-room, only to veer off and end up at the park because the trails were
calling my name. Yeah, probably just a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mild
</i>running addiction. But, we’re all a work in progress, so here’s to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">trying </i>to focus on cross-training at
least a little; it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is </i>bathing suit-season,
after all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-33627668724143542542015-05-24T17:42:00.000-07:002015-05-24T17:42:17.358-07:00Stratford Hills 10k<span style="font-size: large;">So I'm obviously sort of partial to trail events, usually choosing to save my $ and skip road races altogether....However, even I can't deny when a <span style="color: lime;">road race</span> really has it going on. This morning's 36th Annual Stratford Hills 10k in Richmond's South Side really had it going on. I ran this race a few years ago but haven't yet made it a tradition...I've been missing out! I won't skip this one again if I can help it...Here's why:</span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: x-large;"><strong>6 Groovy things about this 10k</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. <span style="color: magenta;">It cost me $10.</span> Doesn't get much better than that, folks. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjSzbpyzWcMRwHkuPwVzfKBvN0ApWzG_JomLehXWLkA5jjj4gacRXNPqGlkI48jItLELvmJ5aZ65EIfAdCR6-z2my6muqbjHbeJsaF7zmGL0Ej_Am2tMjWjm8odV0jfCfwVJooaP5HvI/s1600/Stratford.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjSzbpyzWcMRwHkuPwVzfKBvN0ApWzG_JomLehXWLkA5jjj4gacRXNPqGlkI48jItLELvmJ5aZ65EIfAdCR6-z2my6muqbjHbeJsaF7zmGL0Ej_Am2tMjWjm8odV0jfCfwVJooaP5HvI/s640/Stratford.jpg" width="292" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;">2. <span style="color: magenta;">Smaller is better.</span> The more low-key the event, the more fun I have. This event has enough of a turnout to make it fun & challenging without the traffic and headaches that come with a larger event. There's enough of a crowd to offer a nice dose of that camaraderie stuff we runners love, without the fuss of wave starts or bag checks. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">3. <span style="color: magenta;">The James River.</span> Dude, I really love that river. The course starts at the Stratford Hills Shopping center (plenty of parking, YAY!) and goes down towards the James through a neighborhood, along Riverside Drive for a nice out & back. I love running and hanging out anywhere near the river. It really is beautiful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. <span style="color: magenta;">Fast & Flat...Until that last hill.</span> What goes up must come down, and this race course is no exception. From the shopping center, we darted <em>downhill </em>to the river for about a mile before hitting the flat road to the turnaround and back. At about mile 5, the hill we flew down at the start was patiently waiting for our return. The last leg of the race ascended in that gradual, slow, painful sort of way that runners just <em>love. </em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">5. <span style="color: magenta;">Richmond Rules.</span> I love Richmond and I really dig the Richmond Road Runners Club. We are so lucky to have such an awesome club to call our own right here in RVA. This race was super well-organized and really fun, while showcasing the welcoming, easy-going vibe that Richmond is known for. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. <span style="color: magenta;">Prizes!</span> So I didn't run fast enough to snag a sweet new hand-carved wooden winners plaque, but they gave away a few stellar door prizes, including one for Yours Truly! I hardly ever win anything, so this is actually a pretty huge deal. I snagged a sweet $50 gift card to the </span><a href="http://positiveviberva.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Positive Vibe Café,</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> located right in the Stratford Hills Shopping Center. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Not being one to let it burn a hole in my pocket, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">you know I'm gonna go spend that sucker <em>ASAP.</em> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>STATS</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>Stratford Hills 10k, RVA, 5/24/15</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: lime; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>Time- 50:19 </strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: lime; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>Pace- 8:05/mi</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: lime; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>Overall- 67/205</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: lime; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>Age Group- 4th/13</strong></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQceoBL9Zv5ORq98D-30Ppb8hwheS9MEMWmsb6YplBz_8JB8EihZE4sN2O0lMT7QClOMchoqggwBXbgaADDJbyGdNAKMxZshyphenhyphen1AD4p1sngUHLwvnUjZXbMIIl5iO_vp9_IMyi1fib-j6s/s640/stratford2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-55775581631272262902015-05-14T15:11:00.000-07:002015-05-15T04:08:12.752-07:00Huguenot Flatwater Park, The Secret GardenBeing a grown-up is hard. Being a parent is both amazing <em>and </em>impossible. All of a sudden, you're handed this tiny person and with a slap on the back (<em>Good Luck!), </em>you embark on the journey of parenthood. No one calls your references or runs a background check. Overnight and without any <em>real </em>preparation whatsoever, you're completely in charge of a tiny, precious human being. I remember leaving the hospital after Lucy was born, getting into the car and somehow expecting somebody to come barreling out of the front doors, yelling "Wait! There's a mistake! These people are NOT qualified to be parents!" Or something like that. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJWFMuRcJPQc64ASZqbCjuB9Hs4DX2oPu-4yIo11p26wEP6MFpAX3wORlWmvl6q6QXlsbjQRLuqUwae2uhKkpbz0LsDN1dj2Ldn2VkwyvtsxL_IJxJjpPovkCzx444TIP0QHEGRXBUrI/s1600/IMAG0014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJWFMuRcJPQc64ASZqbCjuB9Hs4DX2oPu-4yIo11p26wEP6MFpAX3wORlWmvl6q6QXlsbjQRLuqUwae2uhKkpbz0LsDN1dj2Ldn2VkwyvtsxL_IJxJjpPovkCzx444TIP0QHEGRXBUrI/s320/IMAG0014.jpg" width="190" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok, she's cute. Now what do we do?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyway, we've somehow managed to raise a pretty awesome person so far (jury's still out, she's not even 4 yet). Here's hoping she won't turn out to be a total snob, or worse, like someone who drives in the left lane of a 2-way highway, going under the speed limit for <em>absolutely </em>no reason other than to annoy <em>everyone </em>around her. Now <em>that </em>would be a bummer. <br />
<br />
Anyway, being a parent can be really tough, especially when it comes to making major decisions for your child that she can't yet make for herself. <br />
<br />
We're in the middle of that decision-making parental responsibility zone right now as we make decisions about school for our kiddo. Long story short, we are facing some choices that will likely not make a giant difference when she's 35, but seem pretty dang important right now. <em>Kindergarten. </em>We've been visiting schools, meeting with administrators and trying to navigate through the decision-making process for our future grade-schooler (and President of the United States, of course). <br />
<br />
For me, my best thinking, praying and decision-making happens where most of the magic usually happens...out on the trail. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtTPR9a0wHBrlHfZAmVQP5htstKL4DYtOcy4qHfaaPd4obPImbIZECmLFqNqPV_Tb_ePVNBwtjqtg2elGom9jv4InrM9Dcfq6mWNziFZLJDr9LbwkS0fPwOdsFNtvlas4tJUJYf7K37U/s1600/039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtTPR9a0wHBrlHfZAmVQP5htstKL4DYtOcy4qHfaaPd4obPImbIZECmLFqNqPV_Tb_ePVNBwtjqtg2elGom9jv4InrM9Dcfq6mWNziFZLJDr9LbwkS0fPwOdsFNtvlas4tJUJYf7K37U/s640/039.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Westham Bridge, Huguenot Flatwater Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This morning, I headed down to the river for some dirt therapy. I started on the trails at Huguenot Flatwater, then trotted along Riverside Drive to Pony Pasture. After looping around the main trail at PP I headed back to Flatwater, finishing up at around 5 miles. It was an especially beautiful Spring morning in RVA, and I couldn't help but feel like Mother Nature was plain showing off. It was <em>that </em>pretty. I needed some quiet time and the trail delivered. Big time. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhlgIWfREwByy1uZHuRE1QVsvT8UffQvD-TkzQt5MulbbHW3fm2KE0kw2-hVLZMjNHk-jdZ0bYZLGikh3_RBta8tqtg7O0gZc_Hy_K5TvN4N-OlszVyyz38i1wF6HdE9nWTFmu3s7KpkQ/s1600/040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhlgIWfREwByy1uZHuRE1QVsvT8UffQvD-TkzQt5MulbbHW3fm2KE0kw2-hVLZMjNHk-jdZ0bYZLGikh3_RBta8tqtg7O0gZc_Hy_K5TvN4N-OlszVyyz38i1wF6HdE9nWTFmu3s7KpkQ/s640/040.JPG" width="475" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you've ever wondered what a real "Secret Garden," feels like, check this out. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Did I solve the world's problems in my hour on the trail? Of course not. Did I come to any major conclusions about the future of my kid's education? Not really. But, I did leave with a sense of that everything <em>will </em>be okay, that she'll <em>probably </em>go to college and that she'll <em>definitely</em> be a total jerk when she's 13 no matter where she goes to Kindergarten. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mebnmP5Ql7G0Qf0DaLRweJziIVCaKFyZZ0GFVP12RxesOd76Lptl9ccc0VWdA2I_h-nH7NMp2ZBz2aphsOt1YOaPtVThh9FFITXFeTcemm0DpO2n9lCliBbKfODrS2eaST7J2BW0UZs/s1600/087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mebnmP5Ql7G0Qf0DaLRweJziIVCaKFyZZ0GFVP12RxesOd76Lptl9ccc0VWdA2I_h-nH7NMp2ZBz2aphsOt1YOaPtVThh9FFITXFeTcemm0DpO2n9lCliBbKfODrS2eaST7J2BW0UZs/s400/087.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging with my river rat at Pony Pasture</td></tr>
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Gosh, I feel better. <br />
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Check out Huguenot Flatwater Park HERE <a href="http://www.richmondoutside.com/destination/huguenot-flatwater-jrps/">http://www.richmondoutside.com/destination/huguenot-flatwater-jrps/</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-883723721498091592015-04-22T11:21:00.002-07:002015-04-22T11:28:02.803-07:00Get Lost- Pony Pasture ParkToday's trail run was a shining example of why I LOVE trail running. I headed down to Pony Pasture Park, along the James River for a little exploring this morning, and I wasn't disappointed. Usually, when I head to the river, I run the Buttermilk/Northbank trail loop a little closer to the city. Today I wanted to keep it close to home and was in the mood to get lost. Well, a little lost, anyway...It would be pretty embarrassing to be late to pick up my kid from preschool because I was <em>literally</em> lost in the woods. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip18gDg6-_k6cDRz_vfhI3wgEh-xQI8CU9YqrpVbQHgxWFWJwZNV7cCr0g1cqOsvdBONLulT-Gbog9w1otyw9GWCVjlnd3-0tUiifTCSQw9RY7j4AbFK6mh0mWry7acX6oi9RMAaq_5lk/s1600/050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip18gDg6-_k6cDRz_vfhI3wgEh-xQI8CU9YqrpVbQHgxWFWJwZNV7cCr0g1cqOsvdBONLulT-Gbog9w1otyw9GWCVjlnd3-0tUiifTCSQw9RY7j4AbFK6mh0mWry7acX6oi9RMAaq_5lk/s1600/050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip18gDg6-_k6cDRz_vfhI3wgEh-xQI8CU9YqrpVbQHgxWFWJwZNV7cCr0g1cqOsvdBONLulT-Gbog9w1otyw9GWCVjlnd3-0tUiifTCSQw9RY7j4AbFK6mh0mWry7acX6oi9RMAaq_5lk/s1600/050.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
I count myself as a very lucky person when it comes to seasonal allergies...today was one of the worst day for pollen so far, and I was able to get out and enjoy the park without suffering from the coughing, sneezing and itchy eyes that are plaguing so many Richmonders right now. That being said, it was pretty awesome to have the trails to myself this morning....Sorry, allergy sufferers...Ya'll hang in there ;)<br />
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I parked at the main Pony Pasture area and noticed immediately that the river is RAGING right now. The James is over 9ft, with no river use allowed without a permit. I geared up for a wet, muddy run; the trails delivered. The main trail at Pony Pasture is a loop that comes in just under 2 miles. My plan was to hit that loop a couple of times and spend a little time exploring the cut-through trails that are a little rougher (and more interesting). About halfway through my first trek around the loop, I hit some ankle-deep water that covered the trail for about 25 yards or so. Keeping an eye out for snakes and critters along the side of the swampy trail, I was loving the mud and the cool water,<br />
because I'm a trail runner and we dig stuff like that. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cut-through trail from Pony Pasture to the James.</td></tr>
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After a couple of trips around the Pony Pasture loop, I decided to check out the trails at the adjacent James River flat-water area. Crossing the bridge that connects the two areas, I made mental notes about which direction I was heading and physical markers along the way. This would have been a pretty inconvenient time to get lost. My sense of direction is light-years better than it used to be, but that's not really saying much. The flat-water area was super fun. I hit a sweet little single-track trail that ran right along the river bank before heading back along a few cut-through trails, totally impressing myself with my navigational skills. <br />
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There's something magical about running on unfamiliar trails that surprise you and leave you wondering what's around the next turn. These trails are awesome because they are super flat/fast, they dart along by the river and the terrain is simply beautiful. Definitely not as challenging as Buttermilk or Northbank, but sometimes that's a good thing. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCZIfFQXDVFIzQGAjNNhYMWjQwuS-WpNzB-xvVxo8oH9YLZsfiINugZSylbX0jhZhRiBoMuL-WZnRErqA4aQBnzsn02P6Zb-xxD1mSzGNV1VsH_8cWexFW0ffdmbCTngHhPLpeRllqpE/s1600/054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCZIfFQXDVFIzQGAjNNhYMWjQwuS-WpNzB-xvVxo8oH9YLZsfiINugZSylbX0jhZhRiBoMuL-WZnRErqA4aQBnzsn02P6Zb-xxD1mSzGNV1VsH_8cWexFW0ffdmbCTngHhPLpeRllqpE/s1600/054.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pony Pasture Park, RVA. Doesn't get much prettier than this. </td></tr>
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I know this area is super popular and crowded on nice weeked days, so getting the opportunity to explore solo was pretty amazing. I'll be back on those trails soon. Like tomorrow. <br />
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<a href="http://www.richmondoutside.com/destination/pony-pasture-rapids-jrps/" target="_blank">Click HERE to check out RichmondOutside's Pony Pasture page</a><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-6049925532728494922015-02-10T10:28:00.001-08:002015-02-10T17:12:52.290-08:00Feels so good, feeling good again<span style="font-size: large;">I don't know about you, but I tend to be a completely helpless pain in the ass when I'm sick. Some people can power through, getting their to-do list checked off with little to no bitching and moaning. Not this gal. If I'm sick, you're probably gonna know about it. I might even ask you to go fetch me some socks and a Sprite. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I've been pretty lucky this cold and flu season so far. Last week, my number finally came up. I started feeling bad last Monday, and felt pretty crappy for almost a week <em>(which is like a <u>year</u> in whimpy sick-person time).</em> During my whiny and pitiful sick-week, I managed to trudge through a painful and sloooow 32 miles, leaving a nice little snot-trail along the way. After wasting $125 at the doctors office just so he could tell me, "It just has to run its course," and supplying my husband with enough germs for him to also fall victim to the bug, I'm BACK! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today's run at Pocahontas was a breath of fresh air after a week of <strong><em>BLAH.</em></strong></span> </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHte-cixQVdCbVWUHqxBwZcwdwQeaT-ed5PL9LFlKC-p1B4ogV4EvjXeTvpvD9WoylDYrwqm8Q5GB3O4ilIsu_TCfanmG1MiqxzptygeOvD9W3re-7oGyHj2XrjU7u1vN2n1ie0s2njo/s1600/1feb10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHte-cixQVdCbVWUHqxBwZcwdwQeaT-ed5PL9LFlKC-p1B4ogV4EvjXeTvpvD9WoylDYrwqm8Q5GB3O4ilIsu_TCfanmG1MiqxzptygeOvD9W3re-7oGyHj2XrjU7u1vN2n1ie0s2njo/s1600/1feb10.JPG" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Qualla connector, Pocahontas State Park</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was a little drizzly/icy early this morning. I flipped on the news and almost had a panic attack as I saw a few school delays scrolling across the bottom of the screen. Dodged that bullet, school is ON. YES....time for a date with the dirt. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Its pretty funny to see the drastic difference in in the parking lot over at Pocahontas on a pretty day, versus a nasty weather day. If its a nice day, good luck finding somewhere to park. On a cold/ rainy day, you're lucky if you see a squirrel out on the trail, let alone another human. Todays weather provided ample parking and beautiful, fresh, muddy trails. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I pulled into the lot, I noticed another lone runner gearing up for a trek and we started chatting. Turns out he was supposed to meet up with a running buddy, but his fair-weather partner bailed, leaving him to tackle his 3-hour run solo. Lame. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, we ended up hitting the trails together; I was happy to score some company. One of my favorite things about trail runners is the instant kindred-spirit connection we share. I love any opportunity to swap stories and share some miles with someone who loves trail running as much as I do. We spent the next hour talking about races (turns out we've done a bunch of the same ones), laughing about funny shit that happens out on the trail and trading info about our favorite running routes. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59h2AsFW4KKDoK1Nl8-LLAlMn412dWWkqTa5IBljyGlsF-A7hWvWYd07IGk4f9OgDAlIPSaXj82DoSbUzWYNDu3j2lYmrmCXdwCXSJn4c7IBkv2v18rPVqKEKLKy-Q4HwSL0YRoFDbA4/s1600/5feb10.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59h2AsFW4KKDoK1Nl8-LLAlMn412dWWkqTa5IBljyGlsF-A7hWvWYd07IGk4f9OgDAlIPSaXj82DoSbUzWYNDu3j2lYmrmCXdwCXSJn4c7IBkv2v18rPVqKEKLKy-Q4HwSL0YRoFDbA4/s1600/5feb10.PNG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/workout/871451755">http://www.mapmyrun.com/workout/871451755</a></td></tr>
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</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Our trek took us from the Qualla lot down Fendley Station and around Beaver Lake before my new buddy Mike took off for the rest of his long run while I headed back toward the lot to finish up my much shorter route. I finished up on the mountain bike trails near Qualla Road, picking up the pace as I darted through the muddy single-track back to the (still empty) parking lot. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now there's a cheerful, non-whiny, non-snotty runner! YES!</td></tr>
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</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtiB1mTCSWbJRHhMcTKP50ypEyRBlY8oGkF0VIZzPH_0zf99qMS-6Ks3IaKLCyo749FNmMg8d9SfAz0buAawYybGkcwQU1hIiDW2SkyD931kVBErjcmT24FEo2W_4Gdu5pDkBgioTVK4/s1600/4feb10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span> </a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">With the Holiday Lake 50k coming up this weekend, it felt SO good to feel good today. After a week of running while coughing, snotting and feeling AWFUL all-around, today's easy 5 1/2 miles were amazing. </span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><strong>I'm so grateful for my health, for good company and as always, for sweet trails.</strong></span> </div>
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Today's theme song- Robert Earl Keen, Feelin' Good Again</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-17216681470779078862015-01-15T06:35:00.005-08:002015-01-16T03:50:41.577-08:00Willis River 50kThe 2015 edition of the Willis River Trail race was slightly less eventful than last year, but just as memorable and way more fun. Check out last year's race report here, you'll see what I mean. <a href="http://www.trailmixrva.blogspot.com/2014/01/willis-river-35k.html">http://www.trailmixrva.blogspot.com/2014/01/willis-river-35k.html</a><br />
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This was my second 50k, my first being just three weeks ago at <a href="http://www.trailmixrva.blogspot.com/2014/12/seashore-nature-trail-50k.html">Seashore.</a> <br />
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The Willis River 35k/50k races are held at <a href="http://www.dcr.virginia.gov/state-parks/bear-creek-lake.shtml#general_information" target="_blank">Bear Creek Lake State Park</a> in Cumberland, VA. The route is pretty difficult, not because of elevation changes (although there a<em>re </em>a few big hills), but because of numerous creek/river crossings and tricky footing the whole way. Sounds like fun to me! <br />
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Running a 50k is definitely a huge accomplishment, and to now have 2 under my belt feels pretty awesome. For this race, the weather was gorgeous, super sunny and ridiculously COLD. <br />
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<strong>Congratulations! Your body just ran over 31 miles! Way to go, Legs!</strong></div>
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Here's a question. <br />
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What on EARTH was your brain doing that whole time?! 6+ hours is a LOT of quiet time. Every person is different and every race unique, but here's a little break-down of what went through this ultra-runner's brain during my second 50k trail race. <br />
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<strong>Mile 0. </strong>I've got the jitters. Am I wearing enough clothes? I think so. Should I wear my camelback? Nah, that's what aid stations are for. Should I shove my phone in my bra so I can have music? Eh, keep it simple. You got this. Damn, its cold. <br />
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<strong>1-3mi.</strong> Cold hands. My hands are cold. My hands are cold. Can NOT stop thinking about how cold my hands are. When I get home, I'm ordering new gloves. <br />
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<strong>Mile 5</strong>. Ok, I'm half-way to the half-way point of first part of the race. SO, almost there. Totally. <br />
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<strong>Mile 6.</strong> Aid station 1. Yay, there's candy! Candy, candy, CANDY! <br />
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<strong>7-8mi.</strong> Try not to fall down. Everyone is falling down. The trail is covered in leaves, making it impossible to see roots, rocks or anything that will trip you and lead to a total face-plant. Pick up your feet, lady! <br />
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<strong>9-10 mi.</strong> Chatty chatty. Make new friends. Meet a chick who has chosen THIS race as her first race. EVER. Now that took some gusto. Conversation makes the miles go by quickly, trail runners are great at small-talk.<br />
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<strong>Mile 11.</strong> Aid station 2. YES! More candy! 35k turnaround. This is EASY!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading up the hill to the 35k turnaround, around mile 11</td></tr>
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<strong>Mile 12.</strong> Crap, now I have to go back to the start, then run 10 more miles. This is NOT easy! Why didn't I bring music? I think I'm getting a blister. Ewwww<br />
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<strong>13-15mi.</strong> Didn't bring music. SO dumb. Start singing Whitney Houstons "I wanna dance with somebody" in my head. At least I think it was in my head. Wait, it totally might have been out loud. <br />
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<strong>16-18 mi.</strong> Help save fellow trail runners from impending doom. Catch up with a group of 6-7 runners who look on the verge of total panic. Luckily, I had actually been paying attention (for ONCE!), was able to back-track quickly, find the trail. Getting sort of lost is part of the experience. Welcome to trail running. <br />
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<strong>19-21mi.</strong> Feeling awesome. Resist the urge to sprint to the finish. You're not finished yet!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3of7G_kO1LOXlFS6RCsYG36NSSNnqUXghBda00oKF5ZKlTw1ZVh7-xLQV76o_WwvxyDzpcVG_ixLlsY5WiaTOGVl2EhSEQuq4uqwE0CCvBIMS-MgoiyIIszG1rMX2rqL8t9fNJBBCJ8/s1600/willisriver3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3of7G_kO1LOXlFS6RCsYG36NSSNnqUXghBda00oKF5ZKlTw1ZVh7-xLQV76o_WwvxyDzpcVG_ixLlsY5WiaTOGVl2EhSEQuq4uqwE0CCvBIMS-MgoiyIIszG1rMX2rqL8t9fNJBBCJ8/s1600/willisriver3.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling great @ 35k finish line</td></tr>
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<strong>Mile 21+.</strong> 35k Finish. They ask if I'm done yet, FAT chance! I'm getting my money's worth on this one. Feeling pumped heading back out to tackle the final 10 miles, blister hurts, oh well! Pipe down, I got this. <br />
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<strong>Mile 22.</strong> A marathon really <em>is </em>far enough. Why, WHY am I doing this? Two 50k races in a 3-week period? You are SO dumb. <br />
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<strong>Mile 23.</strong> I think I'm lost. I'm pretty sure I'm totally lost. Haven't seen a white flag/marker thing for a while....oh, no. Why didn't I carry my own water? How long before dehydration sets in and I start hallucinating? <br />
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<strong>23-24mi.</strong> YAY! I'm NOT lost! I was on the right trail the whole time. Duh! Learn that there are only 3 chicks doing the 50k. We are BAD asses! Hmm...I know there's a super speedy lady way in front of me. Can't catch her. I'm in second. I wonder how far back the other chick is. I think I'll speed up a little. This IS a race, duh. <br />
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<strong>Mile 25.</strong> SPLAT! As I glance backwards (just a little), to see how far ahead of the other girl I am, my foot catches a root and BOOM! I'm in the dirt. I land like a water buffalo on top of a huge root; it smashes into my outer thigh and left arm as I topple to the ground. Oh SNAP, that hurt. I get up slowly, trying to figure out if I'm actually hurt or not. That's definitely gonna leave a mark, but looks like I'm alright. <br />
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<strong>Mile 26.</strong> Walking/hobbling. Wishing I'd brought my own water. Yep, there goes the other chick. Just got passed. SUPER! Decide to walk to the turnaround, this SUCKS!<br />
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<strong>Mile 27.</strong> 50k turnaround. Water, YES. Grab more candy, drink some Mountain Dew. Delicious. Feeling better, shake it off. Almost there. <br />
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<strong>28-29mi.</strong> Ok, I'm getting pretty tired. <br />
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<strong>30-31mi.</strong> Run with a couple of dudes whose chatter and jokes keep the mood light. I pick up the pace as the last mile unfolds, one hollers, "Finish strong!" as I pull away from them. I love trail runners. <br />
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<strong>50k #2- FINISHED!</strong> Another adventure complete. I LOVE this! So, I came in last place for the women, but still got a prize. You betcha! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfxGPbM1Sei0MCKSZYC4pg7i6AYQ1cop3nTahs-GnHQQmuz_msrVmbEgOd-vWeUh3e0gbTWIqAHVltK2wlPW_6A2dcUBt8KmoHNR70vY_IpyARcbD6X0QZuN63cogZ39Lyy4xBPkkoP38/s1600/willisriver15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfxGPbM1Sei0MCKSZYC4pg7i6AYQ1cop3nTahs-GnHQQmuz_msrVmbEgOd-vWeUh3e0gbTWIqAHVltK2wlPW_6A2dcUBt8KmoHNR70vY_IpyARcbD6X0QZuN63cogZ39Lyy4xBPkkoP38/s1600/willisriver15.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">WILLIS RIVER 50k </span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Time: 6:30:14</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Place (overall): 13/27</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">3rd/LAST for the women</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">All 3 of us gals finished in the top 50%. I'll call that a WIN!</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Girls Rule. </span></strong></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-29406756538782075862014-12-29T07:55:00.000-08:002014-12-29T07:55:44.781-08:00Powhatan Wildlife Management Area<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiId3PyHCAjKed3_Tpe5mwmyGjaw0wDyD7jB5yEdhsjTjZ7kSKoyS0JAFZq0WA-E4kK3dprTgPzy3qsHpP3VBwe6xzM05VVx8Ahlpn9JyrIWVztZwsAJYSAlPUizPtHZMWQ9BVRxTaG2dk/s1600/032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiId3PyHCAjKed3_Tpe5mwmyGjaw0wDyD7jB5yEdhsjTjZ7kSKoyS0JAFZq0WA-E4kK3dprTgPzy3qsHpP3VBwe6xzM05VVx8Ahlpn9JyrIWVztZwsAJYSAlPUizPtHZMWQ9BVRxTaG2dk/s1600/032.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Located about twenty minutes west of RVA, the Powhatan Wildlife Management Area is slightly off the trail-running beaten path. More popular with hunters, fisherman and horseback riders, this spot isn't one that attracts a ton of trail runners. The WMA is easily accessible from Route 60 (Midlo Turnpike) or Route 13 (Old Buckingham Rd). <span style="font-size: large;">I haven't done a ton of exploring over there, even though I grew up basically down the street. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.dgif.virginia.gov/wmas/detail.asp?pid=18" target="_blank">POWHATAN WILDLIFE MANAGEMENT AREA</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The WMA is busy with hunters this time of year and most of the trails are fire-roads, better suited for 4-wheelers and jacked-up pickup trucks than for trail-running. Yesterday I wanted to get in a quick 6-miler in-between work and a family get-together out at my folks place in Powhatan. It was a Sunday, so I knew hunters wouldn't be around; I decided to knock out my trail-run over at the WMA. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There's a small parking area off Route 13, on the way to my parent's place in Belona. I pulled in and decided to go for an out & back, my go-to route style when I really do <em>not </em>have time to get lost.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From the parking area, the beginning of my trek was on a long dirt road, which led to a private residence. There were NO TRESSPASSING signs all around the driveway leading to the house, so I veered to the left, looking for anything that looked remotely like a trail. I found Dogwood trail and set off down a little hill, deeper into the woods. </span><br />
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<span style="color: cyan; font-size: large;"><u>I had 2 goals.</u></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-size: large;">1. Run for a while. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: cyan;">2. Don't get lost.</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pretty simple; I just needed to knock this one out so that I could get to my Mom's house for our family shindig, with enough time to shower and throw my veggie tray on the table before all the fam started arriving. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Powhatan WMA covers 4,462 acres of forests, open fields, lakes and streams. The wildlife is super diverse back there; they even have different areas that have been<em> "cultivated for habitat enhancement,"</em> <span style="font-size: small;">(from PWMA website).</span> I passed by the area that's been devoted to quails, right next to the safety zone and the private residence. Not sure what other species they've created an area like this for, but I'd love to spend more time back there checking that stuff out. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFLu19scaVPF45OTxc1Qxzsf7cVyUhgp7WIvbztFXVVH83qVd3XJQk-NwOhyphenhyphen2NcTD085km4ldmiaKkqq8Sq9IXvSXfg7JGNUZ8MKSbOz-X1XJDcb7TLDYi30dyo-johNYEWB0MZXlGZE/s1600/033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFLu19scaVPF45OTxc1Qxzsf7cVyUhgp7WIvbztFXVVH83qVd3XJQk-NwOhyphenhyphen2NcTD085km4ldmiaKkqq8Sq9IXvSXfg7JGNUZ8MKSbOz-X1XJDcb7TLDYi30dyo-johNYEWB0MZXlGZE/s1600/033.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The <a href="http://www.dgif.virginia.gov/wmas/maps/powhatan.pdf" target="_blank">online map</a> doesn't list the names of the trails (first sign that an area is NOT geared towards trail-runners), but the map onsite is better. Being slightly directionally challenged, I snapped a photo of the map to take along with me on my run. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I only covered a tiny portion of the vast acreage back there, trekking down Dogwood trail for a 2-mile out and back, then turning down Holly trail for a mile or so before heading back down the dirt road to wrap up my 6-miler. Both Dogwood and Holly trails were super wide, fire-road style trails. There were a few creek crossings and a couple of GIANT, muddy hills to climb. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQe9jbixn30jznYO-0Ttg1Tb-tqvGf-qJh-RtE1zksmdgO5FAlkVsUHZhG40VA_-orvT3rjGtGbpTRctzzngT284vOR72QBdJtz9BmCVjHKE8xPQJMVS9UB-uE7SodJdSaNDZA5CXy194/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQe9jbixn30jznYO-0Ttg1Tb-tqvGf-qJh-RtE1zksmdgO5FAlkVsUHZhG40VA_-orvT3rjGtGbpTRctzzngT284vOR72QBdJtz9BmCVjHKE8xPQJMVS9UB-uE7SodJdSaNDZA5CXy194/s1600/025.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This hill is MUCH bigger in person. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BnCaJDDDGsJ94rV1qxt4VJXmFxsruUNBWLt4DxK_mANwCmOYTC6GyLa_L5CBBxP-GGcMMH-UWEBFV0ih9EcNF_V-ryWJ_WPfkxiP1OqW5LJrM4_Zoe-MHXDUfi4rWIoMEk91VQos0L4/s1600/026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BnCaJDDDGsJ94rV1qxt4VJXmFxsruUNBWLt4DxK_mANwCmOYTC6GyLa_L5CBBxP-GGcMMH-UWEBFV0ih9EcNF_V-ryWJ_WPfkxiP1OqW5LJrM4_Zoe-MHXDUfi4rWIoMEk91VQos0L4/s1600/026.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Nice creek to jump through, Holly Trail @ the Powhatan WMA</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">With just a couple of weeks before my 2nd 50k at Willis River, I'm in totally unchartered territory as far as training goes. The Seashore 50k was just last weekend; trying to recover from that while getting geared up to tackle another 31+-miler in just 12 days has been tricky. Yesterday's trek was a nice medium-effort run over new a new route with some nice views. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't get lost, I didn't encounter any disgruntled hunters and I made it back to the car in time to enjoy a nice long stretch before heading out. I'll call that one a winner. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGF9tzOOSEx63VTWrmGZfOeO8yb5JY7cUsfjeKG07gYSUrdJvdiwTM8l3R4PKcAjxqh8IZH6cKCIPC8HmpGa1MZMLpIkBAGvLcQsb6TtutEgcfe_h0DTtLRDgY8ogkuNYzbpCKoE8kfmI/s1600/031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGF9tzOOSEx63VTWrmGZfOeO8yb5JY7cUsfjeKG07gYSUrdJvdiwTM8l3R4PKcAjxqh8IZH6cKCIPC8HmpGa1MZMLpIkBAGvLcQsb6TtutEgcfe_h0DTtLRDgY8ogkuNYzbpCKoE8kfmI/s1600/031.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Nice wide open fields along the dirt road at PWMA</span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-85732390813466880272014-12-23T07:54:00.002-08:002014-12-24T04:16:04.473-08:00Seashore Nature Trail 50k<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>I just ran my first 50k.</strong> </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif1vJXipoNYV6Qx8UQSkVZtRiD1gS1oT7ddDq2AADRTNzq0r0uGQLpaGff76cXhDJPYXRb_19bnhE6GB3qRDhZ-4vVJUUU06kejCiqUv3YeTWeY2VOKGVSq9gLXbUAKFQe6JQ_sPkSC0U/s1600/060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif1vJXipoNYV6Qx8UQSkVZtRiD1gS1oT7ddDq2AADRTNzq0r0uGQLpaGff76cXhDJPYXRb_19bnhE6GB3qRDhZ-4vVJUUU06kejCiqUv3YeTWeY2VOKGVSq9gLXbUAKFQe6JQ_sPkSC0U/s1600/060.JPG" height="400" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">@ the finish line, Seashore Nature Trail 50k<br />
12/20/14</td></tr>
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Three years ago, I had a brand new itty bitty baby who didn't sleep much. I had just been handed the most amazing gift and biggest challenge of my life. I was 50 pounds overweight. My only fitness goal was to somehow shed the pregnancy weight and maybe one day fit into my regular clothes again. If you'd told me then that I'd <em>ever </em>run a 50k (31.06 miles!), I would have laughed in your face. <br />
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For real. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6mpbLYm-po7wgmJgZqaWjjstWxGlaOfZy4MbcaTe_OKMmLvQouY2XFPt13AMwcUCQAOvSGu4fb8hw85tmAQYGyavbrLLVwT7JIq0VMnXUXRpizZPJi-F9qJ7IsLAjZmdqgP4XzXUQmro/s1600/blog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6mpbLYm-po7wgmJgZqaWjjstWxGlaOfZy4MbcaTe_OKMmLvQouY2XFPt13AMwcUCQAOvSGu4fb8hw85tmAQYGyavbrLLVwT7JIq0VMnXUXRpizZPJi-F9qJ7IsLAjZmdqgP4XzXUQmro/s1600/blog2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">September 2011. Fat, tired and happy. </td></tr>
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It started with the jogging stroller. I didn't have a gym membership, so the most convenient way for me to get a sweat was to hit the pavement. I snagged a $25 stroller on Craigslist and made a goal: <em>Run a 5k before her first birthday. </em>I started pushing my new munchkin around the neighborhood in what I like to call the three-wheeled "<em><strong>Triangle of Pain</strong>." </em>Running with the jogging stroller is one of the hardest athletic challenges I've experienced. Learning how to maneuver around turns and trying to adjust to the weight of the stroller <em>(not to mention my own extra pounds)</em>, while<em> </em>watching out for traffic and making sure my kid hadn't pooped her pants somehow proved to be even harder than I had imagined. I started with walking, then jogging a little, then a little more. Within a few months, I was running 4 days a week with my new exercise buddy and finally starting to feel like myself again. <br />
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Eager to get back into the racing scene, I signed up for my first post-baby 5k when Lu was about 6 months old. That day, I was happy just to cross the finish line, exhausted and elated to be wearing a racing bib. Three years, 22 races 50 pounds later, I can't imagine a life <em>without </em>trail running and racing. Its my therapy, my quiet time, my drug of choice.<br />
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Last weekend I completed my longest distance to date at the <a href="http://tidewaterstriders.com/seashore50K/" target="_blank">Seashore Nature Trail 50k</a> in Virginia Beach. In three years' time, an <em>Ultra-Marathon </em>has gone from a totally ridiculous, unreachable, unnecessary goal to one that I've actually conquered. <em>Crazy. </em><br />
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What a great introduction to the world of Trail Ultra-Running this race is. The course is a double-lap out and back with a little 3-mile loop at the turnaround. There are 2 (<em>very </em>well-stocked) aid stations that runners pass multiple times, never going more than 4.5 miles between pit stops. <em>Perfect </em>course for an ultra-newbie like me. Check out the map <a href="http://tidewaterstriders.com/seashore50K/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/50K-Map.pdf" target="_blank">HERE</a>. <br />
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The race takes place at <a href="http://www.dcr.virginia.gov/state-parks/first-landing.shtml#general_information" target="_blank">First Landing State Park,</a> a spot I hadn't visited before. I'll definitely be heading back sometime; the park is packed with great trails, tons of wildlife and some nice sandy areas on the water. Just a 2-hour drive from RVA, it would be perfect for a day trip with the fam. <br />
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On the morning of the race, the weather looked perfect; chilly but not raining, cloudy but no thunderstorms on the radar. I woke up early in my hotel room, had some coffee, a banana and a giant bagel (my go-to race breakfast), gearing up for what would be an awesome day out on the trails. <br />
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I was lucky that one of my best girlfriends agreed to make the trip with me and be my chauffeur/cheerleader/dinner date. She woke up early, drove me to the start-line, gave me a hug and promised to be there at the finish. Thank God for good friends. <br />
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After a quick bathroom break and some last minute jitters, we were off and running. I settled in near the back of the pack. My goal was to finish and to finish strong; going out too fast would wreck everything very quickly. So, I went out slow, slow, <em>slow. </em>I found some new friends and chatted as the first few miles unfolded, noticing the wildlife and some of the weird beachy trees along the trail. I decided that since the race was a 2-lap out and back, I'd go the first half of the race sans music, then plug in my tunes around the mid-way point at mile 17 or so. <em>Something to look forward to. </em><br />
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I stayed on top of my food/fuel situation better than I usually do, eating every hour whether I felt like it or not. I fueled with Gu Salted Caramel (YUM.), a few M&Ms and a slice of peanut butter sandwich near mile 20 or so. I drank mostly water and had a little Gatorade too, mostly because its delicious. <br />
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The course is almost <em>ALL </em>flat. Pancake flat. Beach flat. This actually proved to be <em>more </em>challenging for me than a hilly course because I'm accustomed to ups and downs; a variety of elevation changes engages more muscle groups and keeps things a little more interesting. Over a long, flat route, my legs tend to get a little cranky, but it was still a great course, especially for a beginner at that distance. <br />
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As we neared the mid-way point, about 3 hours into the race, I began to <em>really </em>look forward to turning my music on. <em>Those nature sounds DO get a little boring after 3 hours....</em>I plugged into my playlist and as Bruno Mars' new jam <strong>UPTown Funk</strong> came on, I couldn't help picking up my pace. <br />
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That's my JAM! </div>
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I played this song at least 3 times during the race....I. Love. Bruno. </div>
<br />
As I sped up a little, I noticed that my legs still felt pretty fresh and was immediately glad that I'd kept it slow and steady for the first half of the race. I felt good enough to keep a slightly quicker pace throughout the second half, passing a few people and just having <em>FUN. </em><br />
<br />
As I passed the sign that marked the marathon distance, the realization hit that in just 5 miles, the race would be over. Right on cue, I felt a surge of endorphins; that amazing, whole body, runners-high magic. <em>The good stuff. </em> I enjoyed an incredible burst of energy that carried me through the remainder of the race. <br />
<br />
<em></em><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7zGt3xkl_u-BpJZ_Pc48mv0mVJKzL0sATsckrvmjUM5D5rfcRx9QEeeWhg_pNQJSoPFacofMwoDK3TQ_zJbER_1HUAekGBM8Sl5XQCG27McIsPzYjq_JsGnfsLCvcWxKyGMUMVKKsYjM/s1600/058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7zGt3xkl_u-BpJZ_Pc48mv0mVJKzL0sATsckrvmjUM5D5rfcRx9QEeeWhg_pNQJSoPFacofMwoDK3TQ_zJbER_1HUAekGBM8Sl5XQCG27McIsPzYjq_JsGnfsLCvcWxKyGMUMVKKsYjM/s1600/058.JPG" height="217" width="320" /></a></em></div>
<em>
</em><em></em>Before I knew it, I was rounding the corner to the finish line. I spotted Sarah and couldn't resist the urge to squeal, wave like a wild person and give her a giant, bouncy, sweaty hug. Yippee!! <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><strong><span style="color: lime;">50k Stats</span></strong></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><u><span style="color: lime;"></span></u></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: lime;">Time: 5:40</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: lime;">Pace: 10:45min/mile</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: lime;">Age Group: 8/31</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: lime;">Overall: 94/234</span></strong></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrajH_9xIqIGR__7nhYh87c2N-M_QhUOURwKOPk4-74sMkUXzTmAyBqAT52ZVWUqadv0AQzBwi1I0Kyx7NPwiTHRhnYa4QcAZPx78Hhk5zGYpOumQrMVtlbrTewYPYaZqKZirvKHdglM/s1600/blog4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrajH_9xIqIGR__7nhYh87c2N-M_QhUOURwKOPk4-74sMkUXzTmAyBqAT52ZVWUqadv0AQzBwi1I0Kyx7NPwiTHRhnYa4QcAZPx78Hhk5zGYpOumQrMVtlbrTewYPYaZqKZirvKHdglM/s1600/blog4.jpg" height="640" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what endorphins look like. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-5728126424841428262014-12-23T03:28:00.000-08:002015-01-05T05:01:40.378-08:007-Day Guide to Booting BURNOUT. <span style="font-family: Calibri;">You sign up for a race. A long one. You start your training
program full of enthusiasm, energy and good intentions. You bounce through your
mid-week runs and tackle your long weekend runs like a champ. You're strong,
serious and totally focused. Then, about a month before race day, just when you
need your gusto the most, it hits. The B-word. BURNOUT. Running is the <i>last </i>thing
you want to do. You'd rather scrub your bathroom while listening to your 8-year
old bang on his new drum set than trudge through your long run. Your legs
are sore, your playlist is getting stale and there are about a hundred
other things you'd rather be doing. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: cyan; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><i><strong>Where did this come from? What the heck, man?! </strong></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: cyan;"><strong>Don't
worry, you're not alone.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the final weeks leading up to the Instant Classic
Marathon last March, I had a mildly serious case of burnout. The hours-long
solo jaunts in the woods that were initially super peaceful and enjoyable began
to feel dangerously like work. I trudged through the last few weeks of training
and tried to stay focused on the finish line. When race day finally came I was
glad I'd logged so many hours out on the trail. I'd done my homework, so to
speak, and the result was a super successful day for my first 26.2-miler.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I've flown through my 50k prep much more smoothly. I'm
more confident, less obsessive and having way more fun than I did back in the
spring. I've been having so much fun that I actually thought I might be immune
to those pesky <i>"Over It"</i> feelings… <i>Fat chance, lady. </i>The
dreaded B-word crept up on me during my last week of "real"
training before the 50k. This time around, I faced it head-on, giving
it the boot like a crappy ex-boyfriend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's my 7-day guide to Kicking Burnout to the Curb.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQstYexO9ulXKh0HGzv0bmJxVUSnOtUdlx97e3FAkCquNm2i3DmVWNRrdEjKYDXzyT9q1R5UmZuBZyCUSnECPIdexkX-oY7qcKoOJfSH72XU1gDe9D0mQSBLdTTWr-OIMt5WKBVdQ_wgY/s1600/blog1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQstYexO9ulXKh0HGzv0bmJxVUSnOtUdlx97e3FAkCquNm2i3DmVWNRrdEjKYDXzyT9q1R5UmZuBZyCUSnECPIdexkX-oY7qcKoOJfSH72XU1gDe9D0mQSBLdTTWr-OIMt5WKBVdQ_wgY/s1600/blog1.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy loves the 80's. You should, too. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><span style="color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;">Day 1-Crank up the tunes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span></u></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes a fresh playlist or Pandora station can really
give your run a boost. I usually run with music for my short runs, and there's
nothing like a solid 80's Rock anthem to pop me out of a funk. After all,
a mild case of burnout is no match for Journey. <i>Don't Stop Believing.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><strong> </strong></span></span></u><br />
<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><strong></strong></span></span></u><br />
<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><strong>Day 2-Go to your Happy Trail.</strong></span> <o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you're like me, you probably have a route or trail that's tops on
your fun list. For me, it’s a 7-mile loop down by the river. I head out from
Reedy Creek, trek up Buttermilk and sail back on Northbank, sprinting across
the pedestrian bridge for kicks. That route makes me feel like a superhero. I
love powering up the hills, sprinting the descents, jumping over roots and
leaping off rocks. Nothing will make you remember why you love running like
your favorite stomping ground. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you don't have a trail-running "happy
place," give mine a try. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s awesome. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DtoRh3p01DcfebsP61xZVyXbxNBjE5wZIcNhzaMo8GPD89vF48GoV20FCXwN3qsvqIj_mEcfSoMWism88pMpsV3xRc_rd1qSUWmsSAA9T5ODTJh-7-yYjhMso4tCllA61dve-idi2XE/s1600/071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DtoRh3p01DcfebsP61xZVyXbxNBjE5wZIcNhzaMo8GPD89vF48GoV20FCXwN3qsvqIj_mEcfSoMWism88pMpsV3xRc_rd1qSUWmsSAA9T5ODTJh-7-yYjhMso4tCllA61dve-idi2XE/s1600/071.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Northbank Trail, RVA. Happiest trail I know. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;"><strong> <span style="font-size: large;">Day 3- Watch TV.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></span></u></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No, not <i>Dancing With the Stars. </i>I recently watched a
special about the Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii. While I was
impressed by the elite athletes who were competing for the World Championship
title, it was the amateur competitors who amazed me the most. Some of these
remarkable athletes had overcome serious injuries, life-changing disabilities
and personal tragedies on their journey to Kona. The stories of perseverance
and personal struggles featured in the special were inspiring and totally
humbling. I hit the trail the next morning with a fresh attitude; thankful for
two working legs, two seeing eyes and the opportunity to enjoy another
beautiful morning on God's green Earth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;"><strong></strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;"><strong></strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;"><strong></strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong> <u>Day 4- Cross-Train.</u></strong><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Check out a cycle class, take your dog for a hike or fly a
kite with your kid. Do something that's <i>not </i>running. Dance, Zumba,
Hula-hoop, whatever. Enjoy the day off, drink a smoothie, get refreshed and
give yourself a chance to miss those running shoes for a minute.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkxeWi6gR6Ubg4jifpG63qA7dA2ibJC7jeWWv1b67WSLcLFP7Qpr6bqgEr2Mp5_Kj_VoRPyT6tDNyDjoMq5ps7YBpq7kjfBg8vSn15CLxxN2496fWy3zlY0jYabSA7kRcKphV1ARjz6A/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkxeWi6gR6Ubg4jifpG63qA7dA2ibJC7jeWWv1b67WSLcLFP7Qpr6bqgEr2Mp5_Kj_VoRPyT6tDNyDjoMq5ps7YBpq7kjfBg8vSn15CLxxN2496fWy3zlY0jYabSA7kRcKphV1ARjz6A/s1600/019.JPG" height="640" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring @ Rockwood with my favorite cross-training buddy. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"> </span></strong><u><strong><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;">Day 5- Pat yourself on the back. A little.</span></strong> <o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRe2IcYNh8sOTCSoiZmf4TKNvs7SW4rv5bvxojDLOVKm-0L9PFrXXBrXJJQqPolcubkg4hpvtHDQO2MFHIrpAXZlRWClag0FCiJuK3oGl3A7QT-NM_h9sntyHHdwhh-PMkacuHz1c8NrE/s1600/IMG_5032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRe2IcYNh8sOTCSoiZmf4TKNvs7SW4rv5bvxojDLOVKm-0L9PFrXXBrXJJQqPolcubkg4hpvtHDQO2MFHIrpAXZlRWClag0FCiJuK3oGl3A7QT-NM_h9sntyHHdwhh-PMkacuHz1c8NrE/s1600/IMG_5032.JPG" height="262" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There’s a small wall in my room dedicated to my hobby,
complete with a running poster, a few race pictures and several bibs from
my favorite events, along with a bunch of quotes that inspire me. Whenever
I'm just <i>not feeling it, </i>I go there, where I'm reminded of some of my
favorite moments and of how far I've come. I remember my first 5k, 10k, ½ Marathon
and full Marathon. I remember each finish line and the tremendous sense of
accomplishment I felt on each of those special days. You've got to be willing
to give yourself a pep-talk every now and then. Maybe even throw in a
little football-style butt-pat, too, while you're at it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"> </span></strong><u><strong><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;">Day 6- Find a buddy for your long run.</span></strong> </u><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I usually prefer to fly solo, but when those long runs
get <i>super </i>long, a little company starts to sound <i>really </i>nice.
Finding someone to run your 20-miler with you on short notice might be a little
tricky. However, you probably <i>can </i>snag a running buddy for at least part
of your run. Map out a loop course or pick a meeting place at your halfway
point. They could even bring a bike along. My cyclist hubby joined me at
Pocahontas for one of my 20+ milers. It was one of our most fun, least
expensive and most hilarious dates ever. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I even let him carry all my stuff. He
<em>loved </em>that. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNyp5yvrXzsunQJpyOuWC9vbc91DxEY8JdfrWnu3urEgqC-LlwFNPqezhO58-b35VFdg1UrGP7oQ-ngp-djWSrAnftNALBzNAQhEFexTUcqABC6eq-jjrnfpOQrawT23pGs6FPh5mSP8/s1600/034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNyp5yvrXzsunQJpyOuWC9vbc91DxEY8JdfrWnu3urEgqC-LlwFNPqezhO58-b35VFdg1UrGP7oQ-ngp-djWSrAnftNALBzNAQhEFexTUcqABC6eq-jjrnfpOQrawT23pGs6FPh5mSP8/s1600/034.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My hubs @ Pocahontas State Park. His first audition for trail-running crew chief was pretty solid. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><strong>Day 7- Relax, Man.</strong></span> <o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Its Rest Day! Soak it UP. Have some ice cream and watch <i>Bridget
Jones' Diary. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever floats your
boat. You’re one week closer to the finish-line magic that surely awaits you
with no burnout in sight. Tell your kid to pipe down on those drums, you've got some relaxing to do. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKvmqww9ByMwX0BrRwcQZhEJeONhVwKYqeEiSJ-VbHZRH-Ije7y1oWmQa2xC1M1J1myepljZoOaBtg62qozTJUMiBg1psXHl5HXn_drFvVRu8EyrPzeUuUkTwgQAZ2X2J9emtFo9FUrQ/s1600/050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKvmqww9ByMwX0BrRwcQZhEJeONhVwKYqeEiSJ-VbHZRH-Ije7y1oWmQa2xC1M1J1myepljZoOaBtg62qozTJUMiBg1psXHl5HXn_drFvVRu8EyrPzeUuUkTwgQAZ2X2J9emtFo9FUrQ/s1600/050.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Til next time!<br />
<br />
Run Happy :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-40740097181647524412014-12-06T18:46:00.005-08:002014-12-10T05:09:39.418-08:00Powhatan Christmas Tree 10kToday I finally got to check out the <a href="https://christmastree10k.wordpress.com/?cmp=23-13&SREF=FBEvent" target="_blank">Powhatan Christmas Tree 10k</a>! This is a local trail race that I've wanted to do for a few years, but we've had other plans and I haven't been able to make it. A few friends and local running folk around town have said good things about this annual P-town event, so I was pumped to be there this time around. This morning was a little drizzly, but the big rain held off until after the race, and the temperature was perfect for a little recess time in the woods. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iuit2jWMYpo9fse5SpPeZETUYrrorO_ghjjMzGtuH-rH8IDE-Dpvbo2-WJbtK0OGtpTqMrEmNrRJAaJx37ZEGZUPb09YCJpFHwgWDh_3GJaXAXoZq27I_oE2aU03QJ_tELhqpF66mto/s1600/tree10k2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iuit2jWMYpo9fse5SpPeZETUYrrorO_ghjjMzGtuH-rH8IDE-Dpvbo2-WJbtK0OGtpTqMrEmNrRJAaJx37ZEGZUPb09YCJpFHwgWDh_3GJaXAXoZq27I_oE2aU03QJ_tELhqpF66mto/s1600/tree10k2.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Start/Finish was on the track, making for a nice sprint to the end. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
With just 2 weeks until the Seashore 50k, I'm officially in "taper" mode. I felt great today, eager to check out a new course and happy to be tackling such a short distance. My 50k training plan happened to call for a "controlled" 10k exactly 2 weeks before race day, so this one was a no-brainer.<br />
<br />
What the flip does a "controlled" race mean? Maybe the "slow & steady" approach? <br />
<br />
<em>Uhh...okay. </em><br />
<br />
<br />
I don't know about you, but I have a really hard time <em>controlling</em> myself at the 10k distance. Its just long enough to be a good workout, but short enough that you can be quasi-speedy without <em>totally</em> hurting yourself<em>.</em> My first mile came in at around 7:05, so its safe to say I started out WAY too fast. <em>Whoopsie.</em> <br />
<em></em><br />
The first 3 miles were a blur as I tore through the first half of the course. <em>Slow down, you moron!</em><br />
<br />
Anyway, after almost collapsing following 3 sub-7:20 min/miles, I got myself together, slowed down <em>(easy, killer) </em>and enjoyed the trail and the scenery for the second half of the race. The course started at PHS and winded through a local <a href="http://www.oldechurchtreefarm.com/directions.htm" target="_blank">Christmas Tree Farm</a>, over some nice trails and power line sections. There were some great hills, a few fast flat sections and even a cute creek to jump across. Throw in the nice pond view and a track-style finish and you've got a great course. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj97jkQ3yho112AIUOcVexspxPhL-wsBnFTxZVQVExvD6xWlkS5bAxXcG4KW5hk7eNsLasggCRM1KWoGJKhgSpuytJWI9Z5GVkrW8JeRgBw8-PRJ0mL1Ct5KRnDGWK-vA-u4hl1J4D4sak/s1600/tree10k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj97jkQ3yho112AIUOcVexspxPhL-wsBnFTxZVQVExvD6xWlkS5bAxXcG4KW5hk7eNsLasggCRM1KWoGJKhgSpuytJWI9Z5GVkrW8JeRgBw8-PRJ0mL1Ct5KRnDGWK-vA-u4hl1J4D4sak/s1600/tree10k.jpg" height="500" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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</tbody></table>
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For the first time <em>ever, </em>I wore headphones for this race. I don't know why, but this morning I just felt like having my own little trail-running dance party. My verdict on the headphone thing is still sort of undecided. You know I love jamming to some Heart and Whitney Houston, but plugging into my tunes seemed to take a little something away from the racing experience. Anyhow, don't think I'll try that again anytime soon, but I did get pretty pumped when <em>Easy Lover </em>came on. <br />
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Before today, my trail 10k time was just under 55mins, set this past spring at the James River Scramble. That course is anything but ordinary and not ideal for setting a PR, so today's race will serve as a better gage for where I land at the 10k distance.<br />
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I finished with a time of 51:48, which was fast enough to snag 30th place overall and 2nd for my age group. I'll take it!<br />
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Kudos to the folks who put this one together; it was a well-organized event, the course was easy to follow, the shirt is nice and the prizes were stellar. I didn't snag one of those sweet door prizes this time, but I'll be back for one of those hand-made bear paw mugs. You betcha. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwv14uyBqkjM7e4xFRRK9IvsHucnAgXPGNz0L5Kw1rnDRiu336n3hT1CZFbGjNjoe0_ssO40Xi4Cc5HcDKQ6q5XjiNa08sYjrzbB_3hcFroZLik_K_YAtVFBQ2YwVqIVA_xzc9s8BPUY/s1600/tree10k3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwv14uyBqkjM7e4xFRRK9IvsHucnAgXPGNz0L5Kw1rnDRiu336n3hT1CZFbGjNjoe0_ssO40Xi4Cc5HcDKQ6q5XjiNa08sYjrzbB_3hcFroZLik_K_YAtVFBQ2YwVqIVA_xzc9s8BPUY/s1600/tree10k3.JPG" height="640" width="476" /></a></div>
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Oh snap! That was the last thing on my racing "to-do" list before the 50k. </div>
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Its almost Go Time! :))</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-36103060747986644862014-11-20T10:40:00.002-08:002014-11-20T14:46:27.015-08:00Turn the beat around. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWLNKK3tZcgJhtC4IXut4-TFFcFIS8yw8jp6VJpDz5ALMEXk_Ds8UEBByvq01xhxmZqRBHnpJxR4brqHB7Nj6d7Sw2YhHKUFWqeNu4eXrRtcIq-HiI52t_6-2NwutNhj4bnZVm1fQj48/s1600/blogpic1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWLNKK3tZcgJhtC4IXut4-TFFcFIS8yw8jp6VJpDz5ALMEXk_Ds8UEBByvq01xhxmZqRBHnpJxR4brqHB7Nj6d7Sw2YhHKUFWqeNu4eXrRtcIq-HiI52t_6-2NwutNhj4bnZVm1fQj48/s1600/blogpic1.PNG" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's a nice elevation profile in both directions. </td></tr>
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A familiar trail in the opposite direction is....a totally new trail.<br />
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Yesterday I headed down to the river for an 8-mile trek down the Buttermilk/Northbank trails and Belle Isle. It was a gorgeous fall morning, leaves covering the ground and sun shining. On a whim, I decided to be totally weird and follow the trail in the opposite direction than my normal route. <br />
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It was a spur of the moment decision, I'm not really sure why I turned left instead of right, but I'm glad I did. <br />
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Switching directions resulted in a totally different run, different views, challenges and rewards. I was sort of clumsy, slower than usual and overly cautious. The branches, roots and rocks were less predictable; I know the trail and all its little obstacles really well in my usual direction, but in the other direction...not so much. The blanket of leaves on the ground made me even more cautious, roots and other poky stuff was well-hidden; the last thing I need a month before the 50k is a broken ankle. <br />
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I was surprised by how different the landscape looked from the opposite direction. I noticed little off-shoot trails that I've never seen before and appreciated views I usually miss or see from an alternate angle. I slowed down where I normally fly and flew where I normally crawl. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMDGBurB5Def78UR1V2Z64f6d85dwWZn3Gql8RjehsA3E1VeUG4-iZpRYGjIimlKVv1Gxo1gJSvJqk-ucwP18xX-46ewEGUUWJ5Ik3wGWeaoNmXtBivMFQhDKpJnaguyLTJrrRkFnmnuQ/s1600/blogpic3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMDGBurB5Def78UR1V2Z64f6d85dwWZn3Gql8RjehsA3E1VeUG4-iZpRYGjIimlKVv1Gxo1gJSvJqk-ucwP18xX-46ewEGUUWJ5Ik3wGWeaoNmXtBivMFQhDKpJnaguyLTJrrRkFnmnuQ/s1600/blogpic3.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
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Long story short: try your usual route "backwards," and you'll have a whole new course. You probably know this already. I'm usually about a year behind on these things.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAGrM0UEN6sjA7kG4h4PM5zw2C5xlPruPIY5UtM1VIia9_YhQr_S6NM1MRQAnS2MmD-vIHS7Zutlauz8K89_XHdRxlkeEtEbeMtTBXSFy39jpV3Uzps9gL2ldB8kUKnqQjOUdTKJIWNTA/s1600/blogpic2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAGrM0UEN6sjA7kG4h4PM5zw2C5xlPruPIY5UtM1VIia9_YhQr_S6NM1MRQAnS2MmD-vIHS7Zutlauz8K89_XHdRxlkeEtEbeMtTBXSFy39jpV3Uzps9gL2ldB8kUKnqQjOUdTKJIWNTA/s1600/blogpic2.JPG" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buttermilk, eastbound towards Reedy Creek</td></tr>
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Anyway, Happy Trails!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-64834198869270205532014-11-13T14:08:00.001-08:002014-11-13T15:00:07.461-08:00MOAB Trail 1/2 Marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.moabtrailmarathon.com/"><span style="font-size: x-large;">http://www.moabtrailmarathon.com/</span></a></div>
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I just arrived back in RVA after an amazing <em>(AMAZING!) </em>trip to Moab, Utah. I think my brain is still on sensory overload; the scenery there is enough to make anybody totally speechless. But, being speechless usually doesn't last too long for me <em>(just ask my husband...har, har, har). </em>Anyhow, taking a trip out to Moab is something I've wanted to do ever since my good friend and hiking buddy, Laurie, moved out there about 8 years ago. Laurie and I met in Northern Idaho in 2005, where we worked together at a ranch and hit the trails together every morning. When I found out about this stellar trail race in Moab, I jumped online and started checking out travel info. Not only did the race look sweet, the start was just 15 minutes from Laurie's place and at a time of year that worked for both of us for a long weekend visit. The stars were perfectly aligned, as they say. <br />
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I saw a segment on the <em>Today </em>show that was about traveling; their expert insisted that 56 days before departure is the ideal time to buy a plane ticket. So, exactly 56 days before I planned to head west, I dropped the cash on a ticket. <em>Merry Christmas to me!</em><br />
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About a week before my trip, I scanned the list of registered runners to see if any other Richmonders were making the trip out to Moab. Not only was I the only runner hailing from Richmond, I was the only runner from the state of <em>Virginia</em> signed up. No biggie. <em>Just don't suck.</em> <br />
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Jump to mid-air, somewhere over Texas, I started to get <em>really </em>excited. I couldn't wait to get my feet on those mountain trails, while also being relieved that I'd decided to do the half marathon instead of the full. I figured the half would be challenging enough, on little sleep, over difficult and unfamiliar terrain, in a different time zone and 4500 feet from sea level. Under those circumstances, 13.1 seemed far enough. <em>Fo sho. </em><br />
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Moab always looked incredible in the pictures I'd seen, but I was <em>not </em>prepared for the stunning, breathtaking effect that this place had on me. I'm pretty sure I walked around with my jaw on the ground for at least an hour or two when I first arrived. I flew into Grand Junction, CO, grabbed my rental car and drove the 100 miles southwest to Moab. I had to pull over a few times to take pictures and basically stare, dumbfounded, at my surroundings. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTmuC209E3hB_3RhaWuaabjUwAsbeseppQDBuSFG6MXh1EiKvUFY3F2nsHfUKxr99SODgZ5tSPczRILCRTRUg08vrdiBvmAwod3L1M7doSx4StslOyjPB0WfKRg6enCpm0lnjRO0p7Pns/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTmuC209E3hB_3RhaWuaabjUwAsbeseppQDBuSFG6MXh1EiKvUFY3F2nsHfUKxr99SODgZ5tSPczRILCRTRUg08vrdiBvmAwod3L1M7doSx4StslOyjPB0WfKRg6enCpm0lnjRO0p7Pns/s640/025.JPG" width="478" /></a></div>
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On Friday night, after devouring some pizza and a glass of wine, I called it a night. It was 8:30 local time but it felt like midnight to me. As a total novice traveler, I found the whole flying across the country thing pretty awesome but totally exhausting. My head hit the pillow and I was immediately comatose. It was amazing. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgp-mIzfzRK3-otxYhBSG9BuAsHBr6jJQO27llcaeGSKKWCsSfcLP7zwxO0_YAjXUd5Qri3wIdpBwNZ9Uv8RJXHGHe3yCdZbG3PucEoPrT8uI7TZAqa4vZBmqAg7E-W5IAXkgF7GmVXiU/s1600/029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgp-mIzfzRK3-otxYhBSG9BuAsHBr6jJQO27llcaeGSKKWCsSfcLP7zwxO0_YAjXUd5Qri3wIdpBwNZ9Uv8RJXHGHe3yCdZbG3PucEoPrT8uI7TZAqa4vZBmqAg7E-W5IAXkgF7GmVXiU/s400/029.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excuse the pony, I took Pinkie Pie along and took pictures of<br />
her doing all sorts of cool stuff during her Utah adventure. </td></tr>
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Saturday morning <em>(race day!)</em> I felt like a new person after a good nights' sleep... This is where the time difference totally worked in my favor... It was 7am in Utah, but to me, it felt like 9 am, which is my usual running time. <strong>Score !</strong> Driving to the race venue that morning, I still couldn't believe I was in MOAB. I was pumped to spend the morning enjoying the views, exploring and getting my butt kicked by people who are used to the terrain and altitude. <br />
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong><u>My Race Goals</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>1. Finish. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>2. Don't get hurt. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>3. Talk to cool people. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>4. Take pictures. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>5. Have a BALL.</strong></span> </div>
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As I pulled my cute little Ford Focus rental car into the parking area, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PCkvCPvDXk" target="_blank">All About That Bass</a> <em>(my current JAM) </em>came on the radio. I knew it was going to be a great day. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiMameX-0MunZ8jbqEEabq_2a1HFdVvMMsE8vUcph5AGXkALYzeMfcl7eR0OuWp8vuXyJotWVEpuLNtdW2lFO2xd_Re_BjVBPRCCoY3ZvimNrRAJICFPfIvxqJ3dLrMG7jzvx0eJkWXk/s1600/041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiMameX-0MunZ8jbqEEabq_2a1HFdVvMMsE8vUcph5AGXkALYzeMfcl7eR0OuWp8vuXyJotWVEpuLNtdW2lFO2xd_Re_BjVBPRCCoY3ZvimNrRAJICFPfIvxqJ3dLrMG7jzvx0eJkWXk/s320/041.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got my lucky race bracelet from Lu. Showtime!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">After a rousing version of the National Anthem thanks to the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rs72FTV7OTw" target="_blank">Fiery Furnace Marching Band</a>, the first wave was sent off and the race was on. I was in the 3rd wave, placing myself comfortably with other runners who ran at about my 10min/mile pace. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZs4mnUMkH3ElXuC_wayGv0z2mg_0vrJhGY0JeFRlY2CyRHmNG-vBYZWcmAD2E1PLH2FHatQqYSB_Z8gxBXwrtKf-U7u9ATl53pqy_8hF-pgKIFMV4XBJWhbFNJS9HWTBlJHKuYoe5dmg/s1600/043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZs4mnUMkH3ElXuC_wayGv0z2mg_0vrJhGY0JeFRlY2CyRHmNG-vBYZWcmAD2E1PLH2FHatQqYSB_Z8gxBXwrtKf-U7u9ATl53pqy_8hF-pgKIFMV4XBJWhbFNJS9HWTBlJHKuYoe5dmg/s640/043.JPG" width="475" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">@ the Start</td></tr>
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The race itself was, well,<em> incredible</em>. It felt more like an <em>experience </em>than a race. The landscape was beautiful, so of course I really wanted to look around and take everything in. Trouble was, the course was incredibly technical, requiring total focus and attention. In other words, looking up at the scenery was not an option if you expected to stay upright. I learned this quickly, stumbling a couple of times while trying to take in a beautiful view. <br />
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Honoring goal #2 <em>(Don't get hurt)</em>, I decided to focus on the trail, glance up occasionally and <em>stop </em>when a view required my full attention. This happened a lot, resulting in a ton of pictures and a pretty slow pace. I was happy with that though, just along for the ride. <br />
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The first few miles traversed over some sandy, dusty areas with a lot of large rocks and small ledges. I settled into a nice pace and was surprised by how fresh my legs felt, especially following a long day of traveling. I chatted with a few other runners, mostly about the perfect weather, the awesomeness of Moab and which trail shoes we preferred. Around mile 5, we had a little rock-climbing break, trekking up a huge rocky hill that made me feel like a total East-Coaster. Rock-climbing is <em>not </em>my thing. Luckily, my <a href="http://www.brooksrunning.com/en_us/brooks-cascadia-9-mens-trail-running-shoes/110160.html?mkwid=sMexGjdhO&pcrid=45190311266&pmt=e&pkw=brooks%20cascadia%209%20men's&gclid=Cj0KEQiAypGjBRCPme6jmqu3gZsBEiQA8NAiIDTQnxR3gxKjPS0eO_Cj-8t96EyhQzmekphYSIEJ2akaAlRF8P8HAQ" target="_blank">Brooks Cascadia 9</a> kicks proved worthy; my traction was better than I expected. Taking it nice and slow, I stayed on my feet and enjoyed the view from the top of our first climb. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVS5Ksi-RNNQaCsMB4Fpg61r5GaGJAwinamstAcE8yhClzygypGxsRETlDI5luhyphenhyphenIpOZnHQ9zB9s8BzvmTMOA13FcpSjpiblS8a42bGFsLZQkrZeyAJdQM6FNTKGdjT0PV18-Nt4CCzIQ/s1600/057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVS5Ksi-RNNQaCsMB4Fpg61r5GaGJAwinamstAcE8yhClzygypGxsRETlDI5luhyphenhyphenIpOZnHQ9zB9s8BzvmTMOA13FcpSjpiblS8a42bGFsLZQkrZeyAJdQM6FNTKGdjT0PV18-Nt4CCzIQ/s640/057.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going up!</td></tr>
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At mile 5.5 we hit our first aid station, where I filled up my water bottle, gobbled up a Gu <em>(Chocolate Outrage= YUM), </em>and hit the dirt. I was feeling great, almost halfway there. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiybLDDNNFIn27eNCnn0q39jzGYuw7L1ZYHzspLIXmrvurlSEBGtln32XiiuuLTG7LPTcXiYJNQVVInw0Et_vcE5QYHTUq787Dtenha80pdccforBBKybg7YIlRmdAH4zgdRv_9iVOB0A/s1600/054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiybLDDNNFIn27eNCnn0q39jzGYuw7L1ZYHzspLIXmrvurlSEBGtln32XiiuuLTG7LPTcXiYJNQVVInw0Et_vcE5QYHTUq787Dtenha80pdccforBBKybg7YIlRmdAH4zgdRv_9iVOB0A/s640/054.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet Jeeps at the aid station</td></tr>
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Its a good thing this course was SO well-marked. A lot of the trail was basically rocks and ledges, so for someone like me, who's directionally challenged, this was huge. As much as I was enjoying the scenery, there were a few spots where I had to just focus on my feet, because the trail took us up to some pretty high elevations and over some pretty narrow sections, where going off-trail would result in a tumble off a 300-ft cliff. Nice motivation to stay focused, huh? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWwdQ5xasNz9w5wDIdvKt1z-lXe_XxE1RYEK30Wq9-J0Bt7dzsA8VsnUkcjd0CCkpWYDgKQvoKyjdcpNKBUFHbdeaXvPvZRnVnq-iEw12-NgNvPOQ2DKzb4imh9jKUlsQCCTtM2M4rNE/s1600/060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWwdQ5xasNz9w5wDIdvKt1z-lXe_XxE1RYEK30Wq9-J0Bt7dzsA8VsnUkcjd0CCkpWYDgKQvoKyjdcpNKBUFHbdeaXvPvZRnVnq-iEw12-NgNvPOQ2DKzb4imh9jKUlsQCCTtM2M4rNE/s640/060.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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All runners followed the same course until about mile 9, where the marathoners took a left to continue, while the 1/2 marathoners turned right to head towards the finish. Leading up to this fork in the road was a descent through a pretty tricky area that caused some folks some problems. Approaching this area, we noticed the pace slowing and the traffic becoming an issue. </div>
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Finally, we were forced to come to a complete stop on a narrow ridge, where we waited for what seemed like an eternity <em>(it was probably 20 minutes, which IS an eternity in a race)</em> </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJmG-iS8lGLyGKEGKkhwb67nIimrS0Wjb7bCqoxK32hLLYWzcWE_-Ftkrr2PeoTUSXAu1vQts8hjuCiqE8M-ootz4ZdY59JmQbfJT4diLrSRNrKPB5X4Rwf_-mk6jnyKOrqLMlnTeeoE/s1600/066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJmG-iS8lGLyGKEGKkhwb67nIimrS0Wjb7bCqoxK32hLLYWzcWE_-Ftkrr2PeoTUSXAu1vQts8hjuCiqE8M-ootz4ZdY59JmQbfJT4diLrSRNrKPB5X4Rwf_-mk6jnyKOrqLMlnTeeoE/s400/066.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting in line to get through the rocky drop-off...Good thing I wasn't going for a PR.</td></tr>
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The obstacle that slowed everyone down turned out to be a scary little shimmy through a narrow crack, followed by a 6-ft jump onto a tiny ledge. As I mentioned, I am <em>not </em>a rock climber, so you can imagine how that went down. Anyway, I made it through, after which we half-marathoners parted ways with our more ambitious counterparts, those tackling the full 26.2. <em>See ya'll crazies later!</em></div>
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After standing still for so long, my legs felt like rubber once we finally got moving again. Jogging slowly up a giant hill towards the final leg of the race, I hooked up with a cool chick from Arizona; we ran together for the remainder of the race. I'm always amazed by the people I meet at races; trail runners are, as a group, some of the coolest folks you'll meet. <br />
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Everyone is on their own journey, out for a day of exploration. Their adventure just happens to be the same adventure you're on. There's something special that happens when you hang with your fellow trail junkies for the day, for the experience. You begin the day as strangers, and after just a few hours, you go <em>way </em>back. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFq4aRDGJ1TwyCfBiY8rVJEtdpLGsNeYacS418Im6z-LMh8vDPlZ2eYna536R00BX7UWgGFJ7crGvotUdvLIFIOmsXDCf1whQBrB9Z3L5XeLTsJRJMzZ0yb3rhGEa0skHOB-9bv5lbouU/s1600/065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFq4aRDGJ1TwyCfBiY8rVJEtdpLGsNeYacS418Im6z-LMh8vDPlZ2eYna536R00BX7UWgGFJ7crGvotUdvLIFIOmsXDCf1whQBrB9Z3L5XeLTsJRJMzZ0yb3rhGEa0skHOB-9bv5lbouU/s640/065.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few of my trail buds, 2014 Moab 1/2 Marathon</td></tr>
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After we made it up the hill at mile 9.5, my legs were starting to feel warm again. We headed towards the part of the course that ran along the river...or <em>through </em>the river, at some points. We spent the next 3 miles crossing streams, jumping over slick rocks and sliding down muddy embankments. At a couple of creek crossings, we waded through chest-deep water and I began to have <em><a href="http://www.trailmixrva.blogspot.com/2014/01/willis-river-35k.html" target="_blank">Willis River 35k</a> </em>flashbacks. At least with this race, it wasn't 35 degrees outside. <em>Its all about perspective. </em><br />
<em></em><br />
As I neared the finish line, I could hear the announcer and the small crowd cheering as runners approached the end of the day's journey. It had been a wet, muddy, sandy and <em>incredible</em> day; I wasn't quite ready for it to end yet. As I crossed the finish line, I felt a huge sense of gratitude and happiness. I was so lucky to be able to make the trip to Moab and to participate in such an awesome event. My results were much slower than usual, but with the 20-minute traffic jam, altitude, photo-ops and crazy terrain, I was totally content with my time. <br />
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I landed in the top 50% of the pack, which is where I usually end up anyway. I'll take it. <br />
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<tr><td colspan="2" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: orange;"><span id="ctl00_Content_Main_lblNetTime" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">03:09:20</span><strong> </strong></span></td></tr>
<tr style="border-style: solid none none; border-top-color: rgb(192, 192, 192); border-top-width: thin;"><td nowrap="nowrap" style="border-top-color: rgb(192, 192, 192); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: thin; text-align: right;" width="50%"><span style="color: orange;"><strong><span id="ctl00_Content_Main_Label4">Overall :</span> </strong></span></td><td style="border-top-color: rgb(192, 192, 192); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: thin; text-align: left;" width="50%"><span style="color: orange;"><span id="ctl00_Content_Main_lblNetOPos" style="font-weight: bold;">371 / 735</span><strong> </strong></span></td></tr>
<tr><td nowrap="nowrap" style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong><span id="ctl00_Content_Main_Label6">Gender :</span> </strong></span></td><td style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: orange;"><span id="ctl00_Content_Main_lblNetGPos" style="font-weight: bold;">181 / 447</span><strong> </strong></span></td></tr>
<tr><td nowrap="nowrap" style="padding-bottom: 7px; text-align: right;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong><span id="ctl00_Content_Main_Label8">Categ :</span> </strong></span></td><td nowrap="nowrap" style="padding-bottom: 7px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: orange;"><span id="ctl00_Content_Main_lblNetCPos" style="font-weight: bold;">70 / 161</span><strong> </strong></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td align="left" style="white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong>Race No: </strong></span></td><td align="left" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;">1037</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" style="white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong>Gender: </strong></span></td><td align="left" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;">Female</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" style="white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong>Category: </strong></span></td><td align="left" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;">Ages 30 - 39</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" style="white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong>Age: </strong></span></td><td align="left" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;">31</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" style="white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong>Status: </strong></span></td><td align="left" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;">Finished</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" style="white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong>City: </strong></span></td><td align="left" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;">Richmond</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" style="white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong>State: </strong></span></td><td align="left" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;">VA </span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" style="white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong>Resident Country: </strong></span></td><td align="left" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;">United States</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" style="white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;"><strong>Pace: </strong></span></td><td align="left" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap; width: 50%;"><span style="color: orange;">14:27 min/m</span></td></tr>
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After an unforgettable day, I was treated to a delicious post-race meal at <a href="http://www.redcliffslodge.com/#home_adj" target="_blank">Red Cliffs Lodge</a>, where Laurie works as a wrangler. We shared an amazing bottle of Castle Creek wine and a wonderful meal, topping off one of the best days I can remember. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Castle Creek Winery, Outlaw Red. Yep, that sounds about right. </td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-9578948222878881932014-11-05T14:32:00.002-08:002014-11-05T18:55:23.251-08:00Why on EARTH would you want to do THAT?This is a question I've gotten a few times, and more than ever now that I've set my sights on my longest running distance yet: the 50k <em>(31.25 miles).</em> I must admit, a few years ago I never thought I'd ever <em>want </em>to go that far, let alone actually sign up for an <em>Ultramarathon. </em>So, I try not to get too eye-rolly and annoyed when people just <em>don't get it. </em>Instead, I usually sort of dodge the "<em>WHY on EARTH?" </em>question with some cheeky reply ("W<em>hy not?") </em>and move on to another topic. <br />
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Truthfully, there are so many reasons why I do what I do, at this point in my running journey it would feel bizarre <em>not to </em>run. Its awkward when people look at me like I'm loony, requesting a short & sweet answer to the question,<br />
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<em><span style="color: lime;"><strong>"What on Earth would make an otherwise (sort of) sane person want to run over 31 miles?"</strong></span></em></div>
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Other people seem to find it mildly obnoxious when I list all of my<em> (quite sane)</em> reasons for aspiring to be an Ultra-Marathoner. I've learned that trying to briefly explain myself to a non-runner mid-conversation is not exactly productive. So, I'm gonna jot my answer down for future reference. That way, the next time someone gives me that <em>"Huh?!" </em>look, I'll just smile and send them right over to this cute little blog. Or, I'll come here myself on tough days when I need a reminder: <em><u>This</u> is why you run. </em><br />
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<em>Man, this is gonna be super helpful.</em> </div>
<em></em><br />
<strong>Why am I a trail runner?</strong><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: magenta; font-family: inherit;"><em><strong>- I don't want to grow up.</strong></em></span> <br />
Out on the trail, I'm able leave the everyday stresses of adulthood, motherhood and wife-hood <em>(is that a word?)</em> behind, diving into my morning run head-first. Whether I'm climbing up a muddy hill, bounding over a small stream or flying across a rickety wooden bridge, for a brief period I get to take a break from being a grown-up. Inevitably, I'm a better grown-up for the rest of the day after my morning date with the dirt. Always. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quick break to practice my wrestling poses. </td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;"><em><strong>-Its FREE. Sort of.</strong></em></span><br />
Running is probably one of the least expensive hobbies out there. All you need is a pair of sneakers, a good bra, a positive attitude and a sense of humor. However, if you're like me and love the competition and camaraderie of racing, that will kick up your bill a little (that race swag isn't free). Oh, and running shoes <em>can </em>be a little pricy, but that's about it. Long story short, running will <em>always </em>be less expensive, more fun and healthier than, say, a shopping hobby.<br />
<em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;"><strong></strong></span></em><br />
<em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;"><strong></strong></span></em><br />
<em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;"><strong></strong></span></em><br />
<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;">I like food. </span></em></strong><br />
I really, <em>really </em>like to eat. Maybe its because I grew up with two older brothers who could put away enough grub to make a sumo wrestler queasy, or maybe its just a genetic gift. Who knows. The point is: I. Love. Food. I also despise diets, calorie-counting and food-policing in any form. Running <em>(a lot) </em>allows me to eat pretty much whatever I want within reason. We tend to eat pretty healthy most of the time, but everybody needs a little greasy, cheesy, ridiculously delicious pizza once in a while. I've been the same size for a few years now, while eating enough coconut shrimp, cheese pizza and French fries to feed a few football teams. <br />
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Oh, snap. Now I'm hungry. <br />
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<em><strong><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;">-I love beer.</span></strong></em><br />
I usually don't drink that much beer. I'm more of a Pinot Noir kinda gal most days. But, on the tail end of a 20-miler, there's nothing better than an ice cold beer in the shower. The harder the run, the better that frosty brewski tastes. YUM. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqokXLmOqRR1Dc2rci479OOr4H3c_VhZ-WDZa_hQhPwBC8b6TMeiu6xhk95ABJjYkmx08vi00O-J6JSo1C7KMYz1Igl6_WgYKGBbFcGc8y-I_VMY9wy6CpdZ71CX4phw4xIkpeCoFlIsI/s1600/blog3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqokXLmOqRR1Dc2rci479OOr4H3c_VhZ-WDZa_hQhPwBC8b6TMeiu6xhk95ABJjYkmx08vi00O-J6JSo1C7KMYz1Igl6_WgYKGBbFcGc8y-I_VMY9wy6CpdZ71CX4phw4xIkpeCoFlIsI/s1600/blog3.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frosty mugs after the Odyssey Trail 13.1, Douthat State Park VA 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;">-I like my peers.</span></em></strong> <br />
Trail runners are cool. And usually nicer than average people. Sorry, average people. <br />
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<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;">- I love my body.</span></em></strong><br />
Trail running has changed my body in a lot of ways. Motherhood has also made some stuff move around<em> (or droop, as the case my be).</em> I'm now in my 30's <em>(that was quick!). S</em>urprisingly, I love and appreciate my body more now than at any other time in my life. This body has given me a daughter, taken me on countless adventures, completed dozens of races and put up with more than its fair share of alcohol intake. Its not perfect, but its mine and I'm proud to be in my own skin. Oh, and my husband <em>really </em>likes my legs. I'll take it. <br />
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<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;">-Baby Steps.</span></em></strong> <br />
When you're starting out for a 20-mile run, you c<em>annot </em>think about mile 18. Or 19. <u>Definitely</u> not 20. The only way to get through a long run in one piece <em>(and hopefully with a smile on your face), </em>is to take it one mile at a time. One tiny goal at a time. Undoubtedly, during the course of a 20+-miler, there will be highs and lows, tough spots and breakthroughs. The beauty of the long run is in every milestone and every goal achieved, no matter how small. Celebrate each one. For me, this practice has transferred to every part of my life. I'm more patient, less anxious and more likely to acknowledge every small victory along the way. As the parent of a 3-year old, this definitely comes in handy. <br />
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<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;">-I love a good adventure.</span></em></strong> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HWJnCu62OifOA2yztWnQ07q19XE5xz104LswEhchs3PdlLJuzmgaJbPUIEBQjzIxGuB7KBzEWxAyccL3wD1x1H5t-jONpQLqVLEiEjR8uox8zNPyn2UNFALNloNWh6LrEAEs8RBPy3w/s1600/036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HWJnCu62OifOA2yztWnQ07q19XE5xz104LswEhchs3PdlLJuzmgaJbPUIEBQjzIxGuB7KBzEWxAyccL3wD1x1H5t-jONpQLqVLEiEjR8uox8zNPyn2UNFALNloNWh6LrEAEs8RBPy3w/s1600/036.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My playground, Northbank Trail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Trail running can be pretty unpredictable. You never know what you're gonna come across out there on Mother Nature's turf. I've crossed paths with plenty of deer, squirrels, beavers, turtles, snakes, turkeys, birds and other critters. The wildlife I've seen while out running could rival almost any birdwatcher or <em>(eeek!)</em> hunter. Trail running. Its like hunting, with less killing and more exercise. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguj3yPIlGAUQkB_h7jrYWoI1YMKjJdUwzAyERMFV2edV2lb2WAxI_myWXw0x8-a2NeAtcfqL9IPt1MFGlSUqnQGJrOkaezbaTcPV9jyRWbxNMPMHYZw10z75s7KtKNUj5cfWaCO1j_Ewk/s1600/127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguj3yPIlGAUQkB_h7jrYWoI1YMKjJdUwzAyERMFV2edV2lb2WAxI_myWXw0x8-a2NeAtcfqL9IPt1MFGlSUqnQGJrOkaezbaTcPV9jyRWbxNMPMHYZw10z75s7KtKNUj5cfWaCO1j_Ewk/s1600/127.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adventure awaits where the cars can't go. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;">-It hurts so good.</span></em></strong> <br />
I <em>crave</em> that all-over exhausted/invigorated feeling that comes with long-distance running. Its not pain, its not discomfort, its just complete and total <em>exhaustion. </em>In the best possible way. <br />
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<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;">-Finish line MAGIC.</span></em></strong> <br />
If you've ever participated in a race of any distance, you know the magic of a finish line. Whether you're at the Monument Avenue 10k with 50,000 of your closest friends, or at the Willis River 50k with only a few hearty spectators, the finish line feels pretty dang good. And usually worth every mile. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeOt8gpt2ZePOqVXQPxtqy-l1-e2C6SxRAnjjqqBJA7Q4xIu_JgM33GieFAjo48ptjCC7cx90fk-o-ndit4PMTIVv0g7ZDQayVzAaFD0XqyB5ifI3N_VXUGTC7R3ekzG9wFvFKdZrgSY/s1600/blog1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeOt8gpt2ZePOqVXQPxtqy-l1-e2C6SxRAnjjqqBJA7Q4xIu_JgM33GieFAjo48ptjCC7cx90fk-o-ndit4PMTIVv0g7ZDQayVzAaFD0XqyB5ifI3N_VXUGTC7R3ekzG9wFvFKdZrgSY/s1600/blog1.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finish Line, Instant Classic Marathon 2014</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong><span style="color: lime;">"So, I get the trail running part, but why such long distances? What are you, crazy?"</span></strong></em></div>
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I've actually been asked that question before, word for word. <br />
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In short, running is good, trail running is awesome, and trail running for miles and miles <em>and miles....</em>is....<em>Amazing. </em>Running is healthy for your mind, body and spirit. When you crank up the mileage and time spent out on the trails, those feel-good benefits are amplified, blossoming into a feeling that I can only describe as pure JOY. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh, and I also <em>am </em>a little bit crazy. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQMCNuHNGlB_38IJtrIr9_mY2Fd3hU9P4251bnCF_8ztoJyXZPQpi-dDBjsQvP4ZG7Z_AqC80zjqyHvvHQrunZATEHosDn4zWEcFpTFvh2b08TyeCNR0o7vcMu2qUNxaStnd5G89IXIQ/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQMCNuHNGlB_38IJtrIr9_mY2Fd3hU9P4251bnCF_8ztoJyXZPQpi-dDBjsQvP4ZG7Z_AqC80zjqyHvvHQrunZATEHosDn4zWEcFpTFvh2b08TyeCNR0o7vcMu2qUNxaStnd5G89IXIQ/s1600/016.JPG" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-82370305486245296662014-10-26T04:52:00.000-07:002014-10-27T05:07:14.715-07:00Pass It On. The world can be a dark and unfair place. There are plenty of mean people, lots of scary news and an abundance of negativity in the world. <em>Tell me something I don't know. </em>Watching the news almost always seems like a bad idea about 3 minutes into the broadcast. There's plenty of scary to go around; I try to focus on the good. <br />
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The kind. <br />
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The positive.<br />
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I've been blessed by countless acts of kindness and positivity along my journey as a runner<em> (and a person).</em> These unexpected little moments always seem to happen at exactly the right time; when I need them the most. I've so frequently been on the receiving end of these gifts of positive energy; I try to pass the joy along every chance I get. <br />
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Positivity. That's where its at. Thanks to everyone who has sent it in my direction. <br />
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Pass it on. <br />
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<strong></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: lime;">Text messages: <em>Not</em> <u>just</u> for sending naked selfies to your boyfriend.</span></strong><br />
In the days leading up to my first marathon this past Spring, I got a few encouraging text messages from one of my cousins who happens to be an IRONMAN. These well-timed messages probably took him just a few seconds to shoot my way, but they made a world of difference. Just to know that he was thinking of me and proud of what I'd done (even <em>before </em>I'd completed the 26.2), meant so much. If you're impressing an IRONMan, you're doing something right. <br />
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<strong><span style="color: lime;">When you least expect it...</span></strong><br />
I was jogging through the neighborhood the other day. As a car passed slowly by, the driver stuck her head out the window. As I darted towards the ditch, trying to get out of the way, <em>(waiting to be yelled at...or worse),</em> she grinned and hollered <em>"Lookin' good! Keep up the great work!"</em> as her little blue car went by, <em>CoExist </em>sticker proudly smacked on the rear. Dang, I didn't see that one coming. <br />
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<strong><span style="color: lime;">Pat yourself <em>(and somebody else)</em> on the back.</span></strong><br />
I love passing the same runners day after day. The camaraderie I feel towards fellow runners, especially those I see frequently out on the trail, is pretty awesome. We are on the same journey, though our paths lead in different directions. Lets encourage each other, offer words of encouragement, smile, even throw up a high-five<em> (or a fist-bump...this IS flu season, ya'll).</em> Feed off the positive energy of others and share yours freely with them. Positivity is free, and its awesome. <br />
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In the past few months, I've sent random text messages of encouragement to other runners and athletes in my life, on the eve of major events, hoping to keep the chain of positivity going. I've stuck my own head out of my car window in order to cheer for a passing runner in my neighborhood. I've offered high-fives to my fellow trail runners, some of whom were so surprised that they burst out laughing as our hands connected. It was a bright spot in their day and mine; we shared a moment, a smile and now, probably about a thousand sweaty germs. You're welcome!<br />
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There's a quote I've been sort of obsessed with lately, just can't seem to get it out of my head. It seems relevant every day, in every situation. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSQzCxZkdpciOcZdj0HVWOYQWn3GZsQtPA16IIbpj2e5lK5P6Jh_bySK-MJ1n299wBkbl-BvEvKF6ebKiVtZM6aNrGO7Owy_V44VWAQTBbx6oGdeT9gM9s011VUL_MUkL7XWbn3eDALc/s1600/LIGHT1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSQzCxZkdpciOcZdj0HVWOYQWn3GZsQtPA16IIbpj2e5lK5P6Jh_bySK-MJ1n299wBkbl-BvEvKF6ebKiVtZM6aNrGO7Owy_V44VWAQTBbx6oGdeT9gM9s011VUL_MUkL7XWbn3eDALc/s1600/LIGHT1.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-90771916412430456722014-10-15T14:04:00.005-07:002014-10-15T14:04:57.782-07:00Turn the Music OFF. <div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love music. I have about a hundred “favorite” songs, I’m
usually the first in line for karaoke and I’m even learning how to play the ukulele.
You get it<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. I. Love. Music.</i> I’m even
passing along my love for bad pop music and spontaneous dancing to my kiddo. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Proud Mama.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When it comes to running, my musical tastes range from
hillbilly mountain <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">music (for the long, slow,
“out for the day” kind of run)</i> to The Chili Peppers <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(for when I have the urge to play air drums)</i> to Whitney Houston <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(anytime, anywhere).</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As much as I love belting out Katy Perry’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">California Gurls </i>while bouncing down the
trail, I cannot ignore the flaws of running with music. I used to be strictly
anti-earphones while running, choosing to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“One with Nature.”</i> All Yoga-Zen and stuff. Then one day, I was
feeling particularly bouncy and decided to turn on the tunes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Just this once. </i>Fast-forward about six
months later and I’ve shamelessly joined the zoned-out flock of loyal “Must Run
with Music-ers,”….<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Whoops. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I headed to the park yesterday for a nice little six-miler
with my headphones on and my phone plugged into my running app. About a mile
into my trek, I had a sudden and acute sense that I needed to get those earbuds
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">out </i>of my head. I suddenly felt
irritated by the noise, longing for the sounds of nature punctuated by the
baseline of my feet hitting the dirt. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pipe
down, Taylor Swift. I’m running here.</i> I flipped off the tunes, tuned into <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ahh, that’s better. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Running with music is fun. I love it. It’s also totally
addicting and should be used with caution. Coming off a long stretch of total
indulgence, it’s time to leave the headphones at home; time to reconnect with
nature and stuff. There are lots of reasons to unplug. Here are a few of them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguUo32p8e52QCG_hyphenhyphenBd4IVB3dStGhyphenhyphenbcChp4Yr8Dq1RUQ5qWOXCwu64ihocK10Am2cf_Xu1TZ0fxhyphenhyphenanLB9q4h-q8qGO_N87AxlzHYdhIcBhSVmEX42icnZcHYOeoslN80ygesGGoXQNs/s1600/nomusic1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguUo32p8e52QCG_hyphenhyphenBd4IVB3dStGhyphenhyphenbcChp4Yr8Dq1RUQ5qWOXCwu64ihocK10Am2cf_Xu1TZ0fxhyphenhyphenanLB9q4h-q8qGO_N87AxlzHYdhIcBhSVmEX42icnZcHYOeoslN80ygesGGoXQNs/s1600/nomusic1.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice little reminder, Reedy Creek along the James</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Don’t be that
guy.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few weeks ago when I was jogging on the trail, I came up
behind a poky man-runner that I needed to pass. From about 10 yards back, I
gave the usual <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“To your left,”</i>
warning. He didn’t budge. I said it again <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(a
little louder</i>); he was oblivious. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Damn
headphones.</i> By the time he realized I was passing him, I was about 2 inches
from his face. He jumped like 5 feet in the air, almost stumbled down a steep
embankment and then gave <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me </i>a dirty
look as I passed by. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">As if!</i> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Catcalls.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you’re running down the street sans headphones <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(looking fierce, of course),</i> and some
guy yells “Nice legs!” from his car window, you’ll want to hear it. You’ll
predictably roll your eyes and seem to be appropriately offended, but deep down
you’ll feel like a hot runner chick. I’m right. I promise. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Ya.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can’t tell you how many people I’ve passed in races and
out on the trail who stopped running to mess with their phone, rearrange their
uncomfortable earphone cord or wait for their running app to restart. I, too,
have fallen victim to this running-with-music trap; it’s totally obnoxious. I
listen to Pandora most of the time, and sometimes I’ll begin my run thinking
I’m in the mood for some No Doubt radio, only to become totally annoyed by Gwen
Stephani about 3 miles in. I stop, dig my phone out of its pocket, unlock it,
wait for my app to open, change the station (then change the station <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">again</i>). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally decide on a little Van Halen (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">rock on</i>!), put my phone away and hit the
dirt. Then I realize my Nike Running app has conveniently paused itself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Great. </i>By the time this whole
floundering event has unfolded, I’ve lost about 5 minutes, along with most of
my trail-runner dignity. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pitiful.</i> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kids sound awesome.</span> </span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I recently came up on a sweet little trio: a dad and his
kids collecting sticks and exploring in the woods. I heard the little boy
laughing. It wasn’t a regular <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“oh that’s
kinda funny,”</i> sort of laugh. It was a deep-down belly-laugh that kids enjoy
so easily and so much more often that adults seem to. It was the kind of laugh
that found its way to every inch of his body. This kid’s toenails were laughing.
I was about 12 miles into a 14-miler, and things weren’t going that great. I
was cranky. Hearing the boy’s laughter smacked me out of my funk instantly; I
found myself laughing with him as I jogged past. He looked up from his dirt
pile, gave me a huge mile and waved, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Hey,
fast runner lady!”</i> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those last 2 miles flew by. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thanks, kid.</i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Crickets, frogs and
other critters.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maybe it’s because I grew up playing with slimy insects and
catching bugs, but the sound of crickets and bullfrogs makes me happy. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Really happy.</i> When I ditch the earphones,
the first thing I always notice is the sound of hundreds of critters, loyally keeping
me company out on the trail. I love those guys. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dudes with Axes.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You don’t need Pearl Jam distracting you if you happen to
come across a guy in the woods carrying a large axe. I once crossed paths with
a large mountain man who happened to be wielding a giant ax-saw-mallet-combo
tool. After almost peeing my pants and trying desperately to remember my old
kickboxing moves, I realized he was a friendly park volunteer just doing some
trail maintenance. False alarm. But still. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Crutches Are for
Sprained Ankles.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Face it. Music is a crutch for runners. It gives you a
boost, helps you maintain whatever pace you’re aiming for that day and keeps
your mind occupied during your run. That’s great and all, but what happens if
you forget your music? Or a race doesn’t allow headphones? Or your battery
dies? Suddenly, you find yourself at a completely self-imposed disadvantage. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You don’t need a crutch.</i><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m not suggesting that we should go all anti-headphones all
the time. That’s crazy. I’m just saying headphones are best saved for jaunts on
the treadmill <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(barf!)</i> or for avoiding
conversations with people you don’t like. Or both at the same time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Try leaving the music off every now and then. You might like
the crickets’ concert more than you’re expecting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-70326079805168580722014-09-24T05:30:00.001-07:002014-09-24T05:46:55.006-07:00Round & Round on the Merry-Go-Round<br />
I love reading blog entries from last year, when I was just beginning my training season for the marathon. I used to spend a lot of time planning out trail routes that would keep me interested and distract me from the distance I was running. The main reason for this : if the route wasn't interesting, I would have a really hard time actually completing the distance I planned. I would map out long loop routes, not only because I wanted to see as much different scenery as possible, but also because, on a loop trail, there's no going back, no shortcuts, no way to run any less distance than what's laid out. <br />
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Rockwood Park. Home of the nice little 1.5 mile loop trail packed with short, steep little climbs, nice terrain and pretty views. Its also about 3 minutes from my house. <em>Score. </em>Last year, there was a guy I'd always see at the park; he would be running easily when I arrived; and still calmly trekking around the loop when I'd head out. We'd always wave, that fellow-runner camaraderie alive and well. Mister runner-man was <em>always </em>there, going around and around and <em>around </em>that loop trail. <em>I can do that, </em>I thought. When Lu is in school, I like to be at least sort of close to my car, just in case something happens and I need to go pick her up early. I worry that I'll get a call from her school when I'm in the woods, 6 miles away from my car. <em>Mom of the year, ya'll! </em> I like the idea of short laps that keep me close to my adorable little VW <em>and </em>my kiddo. So, watching Mister Marathon man at Rockwood gave me an idea for my longer mid-week runs. <em>I can do that. </em><br />
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I headed to Rockwood, aiming for 6 miles while Lu was in school. I couldn't do it. I couldn't sit still that long. It was a monumental task to quiet my mind and calm down enough to go around the same loop 4 times in a row. I tried again. And again. I was successful once or twice, and it was very uncomfortable. I almost always found some reason to stop early or start running sprints to keep my mind occupied, which always resulted in total exhaustion way before my 6-mile goal. <em>So dumb. </em><br />
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After gaining the experience of one full marathon training season, culminating in the marathon and continuing to today, I feel more settled and calm than ever. Yesterday, I did the same 6-mile run at Rockwood: 4 times around the nice little 1.5-mile Orange trail. It was a beautiful day, I had my easy tunes to keep me company, and I actually enjoyed the laps. <em>So</em> weird. <br />
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My attitude towards training this time around is very different than it has been in the past. I'm more relaxed, less uptight and more confident in myself and my body. With the 50k in December and two 1/2 Marathons before that, I'll need all the positive energy, determination and confidence I can muster. <br />
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Time to hop back on the Merry-Go-Round, I've got another 6-miler to take care of. <br />
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One of my favorite not-so-obvious running songs. Zac Brown's <em>Quiet Your Mind. </em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Enjoy the ride. </span></em></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-32928190721892543442014-09-17T11:41:00.003-07:002014-09-17T11:41:57.432-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-size: large;">"Its not about what you've done. Its about what you're doing."</span></em></div>
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I love my cycle instructor at the YMCA. She plans awesome workouts, doesn't bark at us the whole time and most importantly, picks good music. One song she's hooked on right now is Calvin Harris' "Let's Go." The tune is boppy and fun, perfect for cycling (and running). The lyrics are perfect for getting pumped for a good sweat. There's a great phrase in the song; it goes<em>, "Its not about what you've done, its about what you're doing."</em> <br />
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My instructor picked out the song lyric during a particularly tough sprint series the other day, saying it over a few times as we were preparing for the next (of many) sprints. Her goal was to get us zoned in on the sprint we were gearing up for at that moment, not worried about how many sprints we had left and not thinking about how many we'd already done. She's the perfect mixture between cheerleader and drill sergeant; its amazing. <br />
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Anyway, I found the song and the quote to be super motivating in the moment (take <em>that, </em>gajillion sprints), and couldn't get it out of my head even after the class was over. <br />
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<em><strong>"Its not about what you've DONE. Its about what you're DOING."</strong></em></div>
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Personally, for where I am in my training and running life, the quote is perfect. I've got some great accomplishments under my belt and I'm proud of every one. And, like most people, I also have some bad decisions and rough days behind me. I try not to focus on the bad days, failures and some choices I may regret. I also try not to spend too much time thinking about how great it was that I ran a marathon. <em>So what? </em><br />
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This song is a (poppy, yet deep) reminder not to rest on the laurels of my past accomplishments OR let my mistakes and failures define me, as a runner and a person. I can't focus on what I've done in the past or get too caught up in what might happen in the future. <em>Today </em>is what matters.<br />
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What are you doing NOW? How hard can you work today? </div>
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No one is here to see how hard you're working. Except you.</div>
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One day at a time, one foot in front of the other. </div>
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<em>"Lets go, make no excuses now.</em></div>
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<em>I'm talking here and now, I'm talking here and now. "</em></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-1852515231179835472014-09-10T11:42:00.000-07:002014-09-10T11:46:43.238-07:0050k Training- GO!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><strong>Days 'til Seashore 50k- 100</strong></span></div>
<br />
Looks like I'm back in the training saddle after a nice long, semi-lazy summer. It was super nice to not be worried about my mileage for a while; I tried to just enjoy each run, going whatever distance felt right that day. My main goals over the summer were:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><strong>1. Don't get too fat </strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><strong>2. Don't take more than 3 days off in a row.</strong></span> <br />
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I was successful at the 2nd thing. I feel sluggish and weird if I take too many days off anyway, so that wasn't too hard. The first thing, <em>well,</em> let's just say I've got a little extra cushion to show for all those margaritas and nachos. Oh well. I friggin' love margaritas. <br />
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Anyway, let's talk calendars. Leading up to the 50k in December, I've got 2 half-marathons lined up to keep me entertained through my training. The Cumberland Multi-Use-Trail 1/2 Marathon is up first, October 5th @ Bear Creek Lake. Then, in November I'll travel to Moab Utah (YIPPEEE!!!) for what's sure to be a super fun and challenging 13.1 miles on the red rocks. Its also a great excuse to visit my awesome old trail-buddy friend who happens to live in the area.<strong> I. Can't. Wait!</strong> <br />
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Those race dates will be here in a hot second, so I better get my tushie in gear. <br />
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<em>Bring it.</em> <br />
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This week has been a big one around the Baltz house. Lucy started ballet <em>and </em>preschool and I began my first real week of 50k training. My hubby also started a new bowling league (hoo-rah!). Oh, and Lucy has conveniently decided that <em>big kids</em> <em>don't take naps.</em> Now THIS is going to take some getting used to. The house is a wreck, I'm ready for bed at 8pm and the laundry is epic, but other than that, we're in good shape. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute little munchkin, off to school!</td></tr>
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Yesterday was Lu's first day of preschool and my first day of morning-run <em>bliss. </em>I dropped her off in her new big-girl class and popped over to Rockwood Park for a nice little 5-miler to get the week started off right. The weather was perfect for trail-running. Not too hot or humid, nice little breeze blowing. <em>Oh, YEAH. </em><br />
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I popped in my headphones (Pandora is the <em>best </em>thing ever), and pulled up my Nike running app. <em>Rock and Roll. </em><br />
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The first song to pop up, Phil Collins <em>Easy Lover. </em>Also known as MY JAM. </div>
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Heck YES! </div>
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I love running at Rockwood; their orange trail is a nice, hilly 1.5 mi loop. I love running hands-free, so I'll leave my water stashed behind a log and settle in for a few laps around the park. Feeling particularly frisky yesterday, I decided midway through the first loop that I would go for negative splits on each of the 5miles I planned to log. <em>This will keep things interesting! </em>I don't know if it was my sweet music, the weather or the fact that preschool started that day (<em>WHOOPEEE!!!), </em>but I was <em>feeling it. </em>After an awesome run, I still had time to shower, snack and play with my new Ukulele a little before picking up my girl from school. Dang, I love fall. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-74364932633394164772014-09-05T06:33:00.002-07:002014-09-17T11:50:22.589-07:00See Ya'll at the Gym. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think maybe I've reached my max quota for running in obnoxious heat and humidity for one season. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">This week alone, I've run...brace yourself...TWICE...on a treadmill. Inside. With A/C. The shock of the sheer wimpiness of my behavior is almost too much to handle. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I sheepishly pull into my beautiful little YMCA with my "Got Trails?" sticker and my 26.2 magnet (brag much?), only to climb aboard the pansy treadmill next to the rest of the wussy runners who choose fluorescent lighting and free Wi-Fi over the thrill of running in the great outdoors. Pitiful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Trouble is, I don't really feel <em>that </em>bad about it. I mean, how many unbearably humid, sticky days can even a bad-ass shirtless runner be expected to tolerate? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you're the outdoorsy type (of course you are, you're reading <em>this</em>), you may remember a blissful little stretch of cool weather here in VA a couple of weeks ago. I like to refer to it as my period of summer-time outdoor running <em>unraveling. </em>It was freakishly cool and crisp (and <em>ahh-mazing</em>) for over a week. That's about how long it took for my body to decide, "Oh great! Fall is here!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dream on, shorty. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">As you know, we've paid dearly for that tease of fall-like weather that Mother Nature so ruthlessly dangled in front of our faces. Its the first week of Fall, the pool is closed (BOO!) and it feels like a sauna wrapped in an itchy wool sweater out there. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">This trail runner has no shame. Ain't no way I'm pushing 60lbs of jogging stroller, picking up the 6 lbs of dog poo that will inevitably be dropped by my K9 running buddy along the way, dodging school buses and UPS trucks, all while playing "I Spy" with my passenger for 6 dang miles today. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ain't. No. Way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">See ya'll at the gym.</span> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-16738080848773577142014-08-22T11:09:00.003-07:002014-08-22T11:12:56.377-07:00Make Your Own BreezeHeading out for a jog with my older brother at OBX. Wearing my usual summer-time running get-up. Shorts. Bra. Footwear. Smile. Deodorant. Whoops, I knew I forgot something. <br />
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Brother- <em>"Is that what you're wearing?</em><br />
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<span style="color: orange; font-family: inherit;">umm...do I smell that bad already? </span><br />
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Me- "<em>Yep, let's Rock & Roll."</em> <br />
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<span style="color: yellow;"><span style="color: orange;">Homie about to get smoked by his little sister.</span> </span><br />
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Bro- <span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;"><em>"You're just going to run in your bra?"</em></span><br />
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<span style="color: orange;">They're just boobs.</span> <br />
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Me- <em>"Word."</em><br />
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Bro- "<em>You don't worry about people looking at you?"</em><br />
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<span style="color: orange;">Nope.</span><br />
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Me- "<em>Do I seem like the type of person who gives a damn about that?"</em><br />
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Bro- <em>"Hmmf."</em> <br />
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He lasted 3 miles, I had to run an extra 5 <em>(practically naked!) </em>just to rub it in. Old habits, you know. <br />
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Once you go shirtless, its hard to go back. I never used to run without a shirt, <em>ever.</em> I'd see women running in just their sports bras and think the same thing my older brother was probably thinking....<em>"Put on a shirt, you hooker."</em> I just didn't <em>get it. </em>Were these bra-clad chicks trying to be all hottie-hottie or was it <em>actually </em>about comfort?<br />
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Then, one insanely hot evening last year, I got my answer. I was out for a run and it was so hot I couldn't NOT take my shirt off. It was oppressively, impossibly hot. Like "<em>why the HELL am I running right now?!" </em>hot. For the first time, I went shirtless. <br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">FREE AT LAST!!</span></strong></div>
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Oh my holy friggin' MOLY. Now THIS is what I'm talking about. </div>
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I had NO idea what I was missing out on by being such a covered-up prude. </div>
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The heat lifted off my skin like a foggy, sweaty veil; the breeze on my stomach and back was enough to give me a kick of runners-high right on the spot. So my "not-so-six-pack" was on display,<em> who</em> <em>cares </em>....this is the BOMB. Like that scene in Divine Sisters of the YaYa Sisterhood <em>(LOVE </em>that movie)<em>,</em> sometimes you gotta <em>"make your own damn breeze."</em><br />
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Nowadays, I'm shirtless pretty much all the time. When I'm running I mean. I always wear a shirt at Kroger. And almost always at Walmart. <br />
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Anyway, I don't think I'd run in a shirt now if someone paid me. I mean unless they paid me a LOT. Like at least 5 bucks. <br />
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Sometimes, I'll start out in a tank-top, cruising through the neighborhood with Lu in the stroller. The farthest I've made it before my inevitable de-cloaking is about a half-mile. I seriously don't know how people run in shirts; now that I've joined the throngs of shirtless running mamas, it makes me sweat just to look at someone running all covered up. <br />
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The only downside so far has been a nasty little batch of poison ivy on my stomach that took, oh....2 months to totally clear up. Eh. Small potatoes. <br />
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Of course, there's my big-brother's concern<em>..."What if someone <strong>LOOKS</strong> at you??"</em><br />
If my teeny-weeny B-cup mosquito bites give some random dude a thrill, he must be <em>really </em>desperate. <br />
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There's only a couple weeks of summertime left ladies. Try leaving that shirt at home while its still hot. You're gonna love it. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-45994979638245660492014-08-08T05:26:00.000-07:002014-08-08T05:28:49.926-07:00Early Birds and All-Nighters<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">What’s the best
time of day to go for a run? Ask 20 people and you'll probably get at least a <span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">dozen different answers, along with the cheeky
anti-runners who predictably spout </span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><em>"Never!”</em></span></span></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>cackling loudly at their own witty
sense of humor. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Super</i> original. During
the James River Scramble this year, I overheard a few conversations about how
this race was more difficult because of its 7pm start time. One lady was
insisting that her body is simply not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">made</i>
to run in the evening (you know I had to smoke that chick). I’ve also heard
people say things like, “My legs <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">refuse</i>
to run before 10am.” <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">The night owls.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Don’t worry, I’m
not immune to the “I only like to run at a certain time of day” thing, either. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've always loved running first thing in the
morning; checking it off my list and getting my run-glow on puts me in a great
frame of mind for the rest of the day. Other folks I've talked to swear by the
5:30 happy-hour run after work. Around 5:30pm at my house, I’m typically
cooking dinner, playing Hide & Seek, or trying awkwardly to do both at the
same time. So that’s out for me. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">I read
ultra-runner Dean Karnazes' <u>Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All Night
Runner</u> when I was first catching the running bug in high school. Along with
being instantly fascinated with the idea of ultra-running, I was floored to
learn that many of his training runs were in the middle of the night, after
which he’d shower and head to his day job, with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">zero </i>sleep. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Who does that? </i>As
I learned more about Mister Karnazes (2004 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Badwater
</i>winner, 11-time <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Western States </i>finisher),
I realized that it’s not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">when </i>you
train but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">how </i>you train. This guy may
seem a little crazy for running while everybody else is in dreamland, but he
once ran 50 marathons in all 50 states in 50 consecutive days (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">say what?!) </i>so he’s clearly doing
something right. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Mister K is
obviously on a different level than most of us will ever aspire to, but his
all-night running makes more sense to me now that I’ve got a family of my own
and stuff to do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(besides my long run)</i>
every weekend. Life is busy; running has to fit in there somewhere. Karnazes
may be sleep-deprived, but he is smart to run while there is very little chance
of any other family, work or social stuff popping up and jacking up his run. Unless
you have a newborn, a drunk-dialing friend or a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>crazy boss, 2am is a pretty uneventful time. I used to try to
run after work and stuff always had a way of coming up; my nephew’s soccer
game, a chatty neighbor, a large glass of wine.... You name it, it's gotten in
the way of me and an afternoon run. No one’s ever come over to borrow my
colander or fill me in on some juicy cul-de-sac gossip at 6am. Nope.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">The downside of
running early in the morning? The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">early
in the morning</i> part. The putting your feet on the ground part. The
obnoxiousness of an alarm that rings at 5:30 part. Once you get over those
minor nuisances, the early morning RVA beauty is totally worth it. Most of the
time. I mean usually. I mean always. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDi3ZltGR_4H2XzPE8J9p5I7Ez_tXvyGg1cBm7zYbRl_yadVHhdHCkjrRsUmfZd59MOmtgJUk_xYKLyGpCxjkdH43fkdLLxFnrVQWRC_jAozaw5huNji1_zcVYFjoZyVhcRetCfj2HFw/s1600/140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDi3ZltGR_4H2XzPE8J9p5I7Ez_tXvyGg1cBm7zYbRl_yadVHhdHCkjrRsUmfZd59MOmtgJUk_xYKLyGpCxjkdH43fkdLLxFnrVQWRC_jAozaw5huNji1_zcVYFjoZyVhcRetCfj2HFw/s1600/140.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">If you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> up and running at 6am and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do </i>need to borrow that colander, come
and get it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">You know I’m up. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9T-DuW6qtoTN8UHFV9kWEnl1yj_SYexGJejIdphdYE6Wx-9AyR0pVIyGSHnjIyDxC9606XmKXrgUcJAiTKsTdIEKbx_azvic01PpaCV86ENnOW3FVwm8dGunLCsJWdeYOKt7wEr69kfA/s1600/143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9T-DuW6qtoTN8UHFV9kWEnl1yj_SYexGJejIdphdYE6Wx-9AyR0pVIyGSHnjIyDxC9606XmKXrgUcJAiTKsTdIEKbx_azvic01PpaCV86ENnOW3FVwm8dGunLCsJWdeYOKt7wEr69kfA/s1600/143.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">-Michelle Baltz-<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">www.trailmixRVA.blogspot.com<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-42075938447233997942014-07-21T06:26:00.003-07:002014-07-21T12:50:57.459-07:00Sober StreakMy drinking is getting in the way of my running. I'm the sort of person who doesn't do anything half-way. Lack of moderation: its the reason I'm drawn to long-distance-running and the reason I have a hard time sipping just one glass of wine. One extreme or the other...that's usually how I roll. <br />
<br />
Because I'm not a moderate/halfway sort of person, I've struggled to find the middle ground between being a total lush (the one passed out in the grass) and a party-pooper (the tea-sipping yoga freak). The big magnifier in this situation is my love for running. You've never fully appreciated your hang-over until you're crawling your way through a long run, blurry, bloated and full of regret over the last night's antics. I've admittedly had more than one long run during which I was focused not on the trail, but on the bad decisions made the night before, kicking myself for being such a moron. Running (if you can call it that) while semi-hung-over, foggy and fat is NO fun. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I've reached the conclusion that I really <em>can't </em>have my cake & eat it too (well that only took 30 years). To run or to booze, that's the question. <br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Well, when you put it that way, the answer is obvious. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I love wine and I love to have a good time. BUT, I <em>need </em>to run. Running makes me feel strong, invigorated and <em>alive. </em>Plus, I'm starting to realize that I usually have more fun sober. Life is crisper, brighter and more cheerful. I'm a better wife, mother AND runner when I leave the cork in the wine. Waking up the next morning feeling great is a nice bonus. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So, I'm presenting myself with a little (or BIG) challenge<strong>: A 30-day Sober Streak.</strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm sorry, WHATT?! <br />
...yeah, right. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Ok, so I'm sure there will be some easy days and some hard days over the next month, but I'm up for the challenge and curious to see how I'll feel after a little break from the booze. </div>
<br />
Of course, we leave for OBX next weekend, so that will make things interesting. Sober & vacation don't really go together, but I'll do the best I can! <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><em>Cheers!</em></span></strong> <br />
(with juice, for now, folks)<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-63976841477897656542014-07-13T06:55:00.000-07:002014-07-13T16:47:19.118-07:00Lake Anna ! <div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Trail Running Field Trip! </span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Destination: Lake Anna, Spotsylvania, VA</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.dcr.virginia.gov/state-parks/documents/data/trail-guide-lakeanna.pdf" target="_blank">Lake Anna State Park TRAIL MAP</a><br />
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My hubby and I took a perfect mini-getaway to Lake Anna this weekend with my big bro and his wifey. 36 hours of sun, sand, good food, great wine and questionable company were just what this gal needed. The pretty little 7-miler that I squeezed in with my pup was the icing on the cake. </div>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7SaqH6nC9Pina0K_aYQF0dg3pv0Sfw4iogH2BzJvDLcBEynx1G0Zf_M76VKMwACKRsjw4yg2Q-1RFnQ-GEi-lMhyphenhyphengfm9YysMBeP2FVrlcfEYnAduB0eCEnijZKRrbGwtRyt4cqIjKxpo/s1600/01686a3a8b2cdc53a27aca90bb1980c1e37a6b03b1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7SaqH6nC9Pina0K_aYQF0dg3pv0Sfw4iogH2BzJvDLcBEynx1G0Zf_M76VKMwACKRsjw4yg2Q-1RFnQ-GEi-lMhyphenhyphengfm9YysMBeP2FVrlcfEYnAduB0eCEnijZKRrbGwtRyt4cqIjKxpo/s1600/01686a3a8b2cdc53a27aca90bb1980c1e37a6b03b1.jpg" height="640" width="476" /></a></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYqJi-PuZgMNHjA4S8IugijBge9jkgOr0kL3KkvnqmCyqVXx_OHGsImayyzm5h3yDqpo7oA2ABiwbiNbXpjxzg0iUdvDfMUlX69HN78kjSabuEkBdK5-eKWwcwG6E0ViHrOA7nkcyp14/s1600/013e488e254746ae76703bcde79fc4f07483e721df.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYqJi-PuZgMNHjA4S8IugijBge9jkgOr0kL3KkvnqmCyqVXx_OHGsImayyzm5h3yDqpo7oA2ABiwbiNbXpjxzg0iUdvDfMUlX69HN78kjSabuEkBdK5-eKWwcwG6E0ViHrOA7nkcyp14/s1600/013e488e254746ae76703bcde79fc4f07483e721df.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Lake Anna from Glenora Trail</td></tr>
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<br />
I've been to Lake Anna State Park a few times, but its been a while. This was our first time staying overnight, and other than a brief run-in with the PO-lice (open container law in VA, folks...and they mean it!), we had a perfect little trip.<br />
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<br />
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<br />
Saturday morning was gorgeous; I couldn't wait to hit the trails. After coffee and a little Ibuprofen (dang wine) I was ready to rock. My navigational skills are iffy at best, so I harnessed up my pup, packed a trail map and hit the dirt, just as the rest of my camping crew was about to grill up a breakfast feast (fatties! haha). <br />
<br />
The first trail I headed down was Glenora. Nice trail, with a mix of grassy areas and flat dirt-packed terrain with majestic oak and maple trees lining the path. It came to an end with an awesome view of the lake, with the morning sun shining and a few boats already cruising around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjauxZIJWnsjPZppDXNlcbE0V1j72Flh4Ru11a-EVt4U1-Teq461Ot-GvepRBDm7iVqXzIh4HKadCkWfpfub5q16rxLZNDPTFgLivnDFBlLy61mHgKyeteRzU-VdBzgJEUVn8Lf_DW46h0/s1600/010d46a38521f103fe7f0cc8efc6a2635bbe87cc41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjauxZIJWnsjPZppDXNlcbE0V1j72Flh4Ru11a-EVt4U1-Teq461Ot-GvepRBDm7iVqXzIh4HKadCkWfpfub5q16rxLZNDPTFgLivnDFBlLy61mHgKyeteRzU-VdBzgJEUVn8Lf_DW46h0/s1600/010d46a38521f103fe7f0cc8efc6a2635bbe87cc41.jpg" height="238" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> I tried to coax Val into the water, but she opted for the bench instead. </td></tr>
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After a quick water break, a moment to soak in the view and contemplate jumping in the water (nah...), we headed back up the trail, in search of our next great overlook.<br />
<br />
Next we took the Big Woods Trail to Turkey Run Trail, which popped us out at one of the trail-head parking areas. With plenty of muddy areas along the way for her to romp in, Val was a happy camper. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1832 Original Smokehouse, Glenora Plantation. Check out that beautiful Oak!</td></tr>
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After a jaunt down the Sawtooth Trail, along which we saw a cool old Sawmill well site, we headed over to the paved connector-path that took us to the Railroad Ford Trail. There's so much history in and around this park and this part of the state; I was stoked to see a lot of historical markings along the sides of almost every trail. </div>
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The Railroad Ford Trail was my favorite of the bunch, as it winded along the bank of the lake, offering amazing views and a cool breeze. </div>
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We finished our little adventure with a quick swing around the campground. I was drooling over the thought of jumping in the lake at the sandy beach area; the July heat and humidity were starting to settle in for the day. Waving to a few little kids on scooters and spotting my hubby hanging out on the porch of our little cabin, I couldn't help but feel happy, lucky and <em>totally </em>ready for that breakfast feast. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Railroad Ford Trail, named for the abandoned railroad grade that it sits upon. Built in 1916, the path was built to carry lead and zinc ore from the nearby mines for use during World War I. Pretty rad, huh?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Anna Winery. Now THAT'S what I'm talking about. </td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-22760895217205704292014-07-05T11:21:00.000-07:002014-07-05T11:21:01.793-07:00These Are the Days<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Location: Pocahontas State Park</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Distance: 10.25 miles</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Time/Pace: 1hr45min / 10:15 min/mile</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGJCLrAvIArwfu8TXUhUi1SrzyPHjo6Pjuk6t3IQPhj0wY5uQ0WAE29c3tM1M9JIeSy7b6QUB3uEQFhIEKFymnXosuI8bkTmgI7Hh2W11SuzAygjtB30PVxoZPBcl5eHfJ9No7Z8vBBw/s1600/map.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGJCLrAvIArwfu8TXUhUi1SrzyPHjo6Pjuk6t3IQPhj0wY5uQ0WAE29c3tM1M9JIeSy7b6QUB3uEQFhIEKFymnXosuI8bkTmgI7Hh2W11SuzAygjtB30PVxoZPBcl5eHfJ9No7Z8vBBw/s1600/map.PNG" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Most of my runs lately have been pretty gross. The heat, humidity and the fact that I've been trying to go faster have made for some ugly running scenes; shirtless, sweaty, spitting, swearing and holy <em>crap</em> its HOT. Today was the blissful exception. On the tail-end of Hurricane Whatshisface, we Richmonders have been given a gift: a much-needed break from the suffocating stickiness, just in time for the holiday weekend. Score! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Time for a run. A good one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I haven't been running too far lately, opting to enjoy a little time off from super serious training to enjoy the summertime months and run a few short races here and there. My R&R is fixin' to come to a close, when I'll start training for a couple of fall half-marathons and the Seashore Nature Trail 50k in December. Today was the first time in a while that I've gone out for a 10+mile run; after my recent <em>blah! </em>running streak, I was pleasantly surprised. My legs felt great, only fatiguing/complaining a little after I hit the 9-mile mark <em>(what the crap, lady?! this again?).</em></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Not only did I feel better than I expected, the beauty of the day was enough to take my breath away at almost every bend in the path. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Van Morrison is one of my all-time favorite singer/songwriters. His music makes me smile, cry, dance and feel just plain good. I don't usually run with music <em>(I like to be totally aware of my surroundings, in case I need to scoot over for a biker or fight off a gnarly beaver), </em>so its interesting to notice what songs pop into my head while I'm running. Some days, I get stuck with some Daniel Tiger jingle bouncing around in my head for miles at a time <em>(too much PBS!).</em> Other times, I'll bop along humming a Katy Perry or Ke$ha jam. Today, as I was out on the trails at Pocahontas, I had an overwhelming feeling of happiness, thankfulness and summertime-ness (yeah, because <em>that's</em> a word). </span><br />
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<em><strong><span style="font-size: large;">"These are the days of the endless summer<br />These are the days, the time is now<br />There is no past, theres only future</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Theres only here, theres only now"</span></strong></em></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8251496684235969434.post-83733448101993504382014-06-16T13:13:00.003-07:002014-06-16T13:13:46.278-07:00Thanks, Mum and Pappy. <span style="font-size: large;">I'm so thankful for my childhood and the way I grew up; barefoot, pony-tailed and wild. I have no doubt that my love for the outdoors, trail running and exploring came directly from a childhood spent getting into mischief, catching bugs and trying to keep up with my two older brothers. I'm grateful to both of my parents for the childhood I was given; only as an adult am I able to fully appreciate just how lucky I was.</span><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">Mom & Dad: Thank you for...</span></em></strong><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="color: lime;">Encouraging me to run laps around the house in the middle of the night.</span></em> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When I was a kid, I'd occasionally have "restless legs," an antsy feeling that came and went from time to time when I'd try to go to sleep. I'd creep into my parents' room in the middle of the night, complaining about the "jitters" in my legs. My mom's solution? Running a few laps around our house. At 2AM. I think this was my first introduction to running as a form of medicine; 25 years later, its still my drug of choice(other than red wine, of course). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To this day I can remember the feeling of the cold, damp grass under my bare feet, the sound of the crickets and frogs, and the relief that I'd feel when I crawled back into my bed, my legs finally still and relaxed. It always worked. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="color: lime;">Not making me wear shoes.</span></em> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I wore shoes as little as possible, sporting calloused, tan feet practically year-round. Any sure-footedness I now have on the trails came from years of practice, darting through the woods shoe-less, wild and free. </span><br />
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<em><span style="color: lime; font-size: large;">Turning off the TV.</span></em><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qpXQXSI_BtVkg9zH9BM4xXRfrmjfa3SwDDfovJIjSL5n31MdTjm8ksNH1ykN28CbkL_MF3qbKv06xoiTsLIoHStO5FwdB5cc-JpJ3HLxDBnaR3p9k5vDVcTFs1D_rYxCH7TaCND0Gw8/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qpXQXSI_BtVkg9zH9BM4xXRfrmjfa3SwDDfovJIjSL5n31MdTjm8ksNH1ykN28CbkL_MF3qbKv06xoiTsLIoHStO5FwdB5cc-JpJ3HLxDBnaR3p9k5vDVcTFs1D_rYxCH7TaCND0Gw8/s1600/001.jpg" height="400" width="270" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, you were watching "Bobby's World"? Not anymore! My mom was famous for walking right up to the TV, turning it off and telling us to go find something "productive" to do. The 9-year old rage I'd send her way when she flipped off an episode of "Saved By the Bell," was swift and intense. She didn't care. I'll always be grateful for that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="color: lime;">Giving me a (really) big back-yard.</span></em> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Our house sat on a few acres in Powhatan, but my playground was much bigger. Next to our house lived our aunt and uncle, and on the other side of them, more cousins and more acres to roam. Our family lumber business was just down the country road; I spent a lot of time poking around down there and exploring the woods and wide open fields nearby. I'd be gone for whole afternoons, always within my mom's shouting distance (<em>she was pretty loud...haha</em>), but lost in my own world, letting my imagination and my feet roam where they pleased. Sometimes, when I'm out on the trail now, I'll have a moment of deja-vu; suddenly I'm back in the woods behind our house, chasing a frog or jumping from stump to stump.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think this is one of the main things that has drawn me to trail-running as an adult; those long-ago childhood adventures scoot right up to the surface, eager to be remembered. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now that my husband and I have a daughter of our own, its our responsibility to foster her love of the outdoors, to teach her to respect and care for our planet, and to encourage her as she discovers her own passions and dreams. I hope she'll grow up to be a confident, happy, lifelong explorer who isn't afraid to get a little dirt between her toes</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy-J5Vhyh4iwtupxAWo5rYJ9NTE57tnpK40xtbTwG-M7XNa8PZHbDbfpHs95Ayd_V3R-PKUjTTRcGuw_6Hd1tW3Dr8dsLoNmqvcaUvDOchZjfPOs5QNF3OUApr6puuDF27jqTEXY5WxpQ/s1600/IMG_2818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy-J5Vhyh4iwtupxAWo5rYJ9NTE57tnpK40xtbTwG-M7XNa8PZHbDbfpHs95Ayd_V3R-PKUjTTRcGuw_6Hd1tW3Dr8dsLoNmqvcaUvDOchZjfPOs5QNF3OUApr6puuDF27jqTEXY5WxpQ/s1600/IMG_2818.JPG" height="640" width="478" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Future trail-junkie? I sure hope so. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's hoping we'll be half as good as my folks. </span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06952535581030574107noreply@blogger.com0