Since it had been a month since my last run (foot injury), I was a little concerned that I would not be able to finish the 10-mile Frogtown Trail Challenge last Saturday. Mostly though, I was super excited about competing in my first trail race. As race time grew closer, my smile spread further and further across my face. The weather was beautiful, the volunteers were plentiful and well-organized, and I knew I was going to have a great time whether or not my foot could make it through all ten miles.
They started the 4-mile race at 8, and five minutes later the 10-mile racers started, 50 at a time. It was so quiet as we sped off through the field, I couldn't help but let out a whoop as we turned the first corner. Soon our little pack was in the forest, on wide, soft singletrack. I was trail racing! When the trail turned downhill, I let myself have some fun, moving to the left edge of the trail and picking off handfuls of runners at a time. Maybe they'd catch me later, but I was going to let loose on the downhills.
And so things went for a good while. There were steep ups and downs, but the downs were wide and straight, and I pounded them like in a cross-country race. Then we hit the water section. The stream wasn't big, but it was enough that you couldn't see your footing. Sometimes it was two inches deep; in a few places it was nearly two feet deep. Mostly, the bed was sand, but in others it was large rocks. Fallen trees lay angled across the banks, though I eventually found that I could duck under them pretty easily by reaching for the ground with one hand like in agility drills. Mostly, there was the water, and I found that I could not run in water. Slog, yes. Run, no. So I slogged. And my shoes filled -- I mean filled -- with sand. By the time I emerged from the water mile (yes mile), I guess I had picked up a pound of sand in each shoe. At the shoe-changing station (where I decided that it would have been nice to have a change of shoes), I ripped out my insoles and scooped handfuls of sand from underneath before declaring "good enough."
After retying my still-quite-sandy shoes, I took off after the people who had passed me while I was stopped. As I rounded the next corner, I found not another runner but a stream crossing. The nerve of these people! Who did they think they were, putting a water crossing immediately after the shoe-changing station! And a sandy water crossing at that! But then we were back in the woods, and all was right with the world. There were logs to be hurdled, more hills (yay!), and though I was slowing down, I was still passing more often than passed. My favorite part of the second half of the race was a place where we ran up one side of a wide creek, crossed over it on a log, and ran back down the other side of the creek. Here and at a few other places, I shouted encouragement to the runners behind me. (Apparently the ones in front of me were so far ahead that I didn't see them.)
My calves started cramping up around mile nine, so I slowed down even more in order to keep it together. In the end I made to the finish line and even had a bit of kick left to finish in 1:40 (chip time). Since my slower half-marathon was a 1:35, that's my longest-time race ever. Considering my nagging foot issues, lack of recent runs, and the difficulty of the course, I'm really pleased that I was able to average under 10 minute miles. More importantly, I had a blast, and I'm feeling very motivated to get ready for my next race on tap, the Duncan Ridge Trail 30K. A big thanks to all the race organizers and volunteers who helped make this race so much fun.
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