Forging New Trails... Or Something Like That

This week marks ten weeks since I took the plunge (read: got my shit together) and started training for the Bigfoot 40-Miler, a tricky misnomer for my first 43 mile ultramarathon. I was tricked into invited to do this race by my friend Michelle in Hawaii just before we moved, and at the time it sounded like a wonderful opportunity to meet up with her while attempting something new in the great outdoors and building a solid run base for Ironman Texas next year. After selling our home and moving ourselves, our cat, and our two dogs across an ocean to a place that appeared to be flat as a pancake, where I had zero knowledge of the surrounding area and its trails, however, the idea was sounding pretty daunting. I tackled “Training Essentials for Ultrarunning” by Jason Koop and made it to page 50 or so before freaking out and having to stop because I was overwhelmed by the idea of water crossings, hydration packs, trail shoes, and navigation. The statistic about how most ultra runners sustain damage to their intestines during their races was fun, too. I had started running again and was excited when I could manage 4.5 miles. Not promising. 

I spoke with Michelle, who wisely pointed out that it might be a good idea to compartmentalize a bit — work on locating some trails, come up with a training plan, and actually do some more running — before trying to decide which brand of toe socks I should try or which pack has the highest capacity bladder, whether I should camp the night before or get a hotel, and which foods I should pack for the aid station. 

I took a step back, read the part of the book that covered training plan design, and went to work on that. The mileage increases were a little frightening (turns out that five months isn’t very long at all when working your way from 4.5 mile runs to 30 miles) but I was intrigued with Koop’s training strategy (for the tri geeks reading this, he’s a big proponent of reverse periodization) and so I came up with my training schedule, starting with lighter volume and more high intensity work and gradually progressing to long runs at a slower pace, focused on terrain similar to that which I’ll be running at Bigfoot. Somewhere in there, I assumed, I’d be ready to think about which solid foods would digest after 34 miles and which techniques I’d used to doctor my feet when they get soaked in streams along the way. 

Pretty Brushy Creek

I ran 5 miles for my long run, and then I ran 6. Then 7.5, and 8, and 10. When I hit 12, I started exploring trails. I started stalking the Austin Dirt Runners Facebook group to hijack their routes, and I discovered the Brushy Creek Trail system, which offers both paved trails and unpaved off-shoots running up into the forested hills. Two weekends ago I did my first long run with over 8 miles on real trails, 12 long miles total navigating rocks, hills, creeks, and tree roots after a full day at work, and although I had a lot of sore muscles afterward (it literally felt like I’d given myself a lower abdominal hernia) the run instead felt pretty damn good. After a much needed recovery week, I’m back at it again this week.

So far, the process has had several positive surprises and several challenges. 

In many ways, it has been nice to be off-road, in nature, and experiencing new things on the trails. The trails off of Brushy Creek offer an assortment of views and terrains from soft packed dirt alongside a swift-flowing river to arid landscapes where juniper, cacti and tough little yellow wildflowers are the only foliage that survive. In between there are lakes, fields of Texas Bluebonnets and sunflowers, waterfalls, and even the occasional wild animal. I didn’t know what to expect from Texas landscapes, and I have to say that at this point I’m very impressed with the beauty here. 

Building mileage

I am also very pleased and relieved with how my body feels after a long trail run when compared to running on the road. Although my muscles get more sore, the softer terrain and variation of movement patterns leaves my joints feeling delightfully comfortable. No knee pain, no SI joint jarring, and no ache in my hip. Yes, I’m an old lady. Shut up. Because of this, and the inherently slower pace necessitated by dealing with rocks and tree roots, it feels like I can run much longer without tiring. 

I have also enjoyed the process of getting to know my new trail running shoes, which are decidedly different than my road shoes in that they have a “rock plate,” a stiff shank in the sole that protects the foot from the bruising often caused by rocky surfaces. When I first put them on they felt so immobile and unbending I immediately felt running on the ball of my foot and was concerned that I would be tortured with blisters. After about 6 miles, however, they seemed to warm to my feet and hug them gently instead of fighting them. 

Along with these pleasant surprises have come challenges. The first is my own damn fault — I am a very antisocial runner. As I get into these longer runs during which I’m heading off into the wild blue yonder for hours and hours at a time, I can’t help but admit that I would be MUCH safer if I had a running buddy. Whether the risk is injury, meeting someone sketchy on the trail, or getting lost (managed to do that my very first long trail outing!) it would be much smarter to stop running alone. The problem is, I hate people. Okay, I don’t hate people, but I have what seems to be an unusual love of running alone. I love the silence, I love the focus, and I love being out in nature with no one else present. I find it meditative to connect with my footsteps and my heart beat — in fact, I’m one of the only runners I know who doesn’t wear headphones and listen to music. Then there are the added complications of distance and pacing when running with others. Finding someone who wants to run the same distance at the same pace as you is like finding gold in a ditch. Almost impossible. As I head out on a new trail next week to knock out 14 miles, though, it’s a little nerve wracking. 

The other obstacle I run into is the sheer amount of focus and mental stamina it takes to do long runs on uneven surfaces, particularly on trails that seem to just loop endlessly through indistinguishable dry forest. In Hawaii, the trail runs I did took me on beach paths, through pastures with sweeping mountain and ocean views, and through towering, majestic valleys. The Brushy Creek off-pavement trails serve their purpose and have their beautiful moments, but it really does often feel like someone cut endless arbitrary switchbacks through a small section of forest, which is in fact exactly the case. Although I ran over 12 trail miles today, my net distance covered (from my car to where I turned around) was less than one mile. 

Love on the trail

I am choosing to look at this particular struggle as an opportunity to train my mind, since I know there will be plenty of times during Bigfoot that I am jaded, tired, and don’t care about the view. Despite these feelings, I need to be able to keep my mind sharp and focused on the task at hand. Perhaps I just need to get a little more creative with my imagination and come up with an epic destination that I can imagine I’m heading toward. I am also hopeful that the trail I’m going to explore next week will have more of an actual “destination” to it, since it is not switchbacks. We’ll have to wait and see on that. 

The third challenge is not particularly trail-related but rather a reflection of my work schedule. Because I start at 7AM, I have to get up to run at 4:50AM to run during the week. The time is sometimes challenging, but even more than that is the fact that it’s dark outside and there’s nothing to look at. (Can you tell I’m a visually-focused runner?) During my run this morning, however, I saw light on the horizon for the first time so I’m hopeful that the longer summer days will take care of this one for me until the race. 

Slowly but surely, working through issues as they come and running more and more, I am finding myself ready to continue to delve into the specifics I’ll need to know in order to complete this race. I’ve even found that once a week or so I feel like reading the book that scared the crap out of me in the beginning, and by tackling 1-3 chapters at a time I’ve found a manageable way to learn the material. As with all new adventures, it’s a work in progress.