16 Mile Training Run - Saturday, August 25

Hi again.

We were originally supposed to run the trail that lines the C&O Canal - from Fletchers Boat House south into Georgetown, then north into Bethesda, and back to Fletchers. It would have been ideal for the 16 miler because almost the entire path is shaded by big tall trees, which keep it relatively cool on the trail. Would have been great since Saturday was such a scorcher. But, Canal Road, the access road to Fletchers, was closed for construction, so at the last minute we had to change the route to the Custis/WO&D Trail in Virginia.

I got lost on the way to Washington and Lee High School, which is where we met for the start. This is my experience each time we meet in VA - I think I know where I am and then suddenly I'm lost and can't find my way. Somehow, I always end up at the run site just in time to hit the trail with the team, but I have no idea how it happens. To prove this, I'll tell you I always get lost going home from the runs. I would blame it on exhaustion, but honestly I just don't know my way around there. It makes me laugh at myself each time I do it, though. I mean really, why not just look up directions??!! Maybe next time. Although, after my experience you are about to read about - I never want to see that stupid trail again.

I have been nervous all week about this run for a few reasons. First, I was unable to run my 10 miles last Saturday. I tried to run it on Sunday, but my knees were still recovering from the 14 miler. That, and I wore some crazy wedge heels to the Allman Brothers show on Friday night and I'm pretty sure my knees were getting their revenge.

Second, I was away at training for work all week and wasn't able to get any solid maintenence runs in. I didn't have the confidence I normally do for the long runs.

Third, the weather outlook for Saturday was extremely hot and humid!!

Last, 16 is an intimidating number of miles, no?!

When showed up at the site at 7am, it was already 95 degrees out, I realized we were running on the hilliest route for the first 2 miles and the last 2 miles. Although I spent the entire Friday night hydrating, I was apprehensive about the conditions this run presented.

I found my running buddy Megan at the sign-in table. I first met Megan at a water stop during our 7 miler and we have run together ever since. Megan lives here in DC, but grew up outside of of Philadelphia - which is probably why we get along so well! She's very sweet and an absolute hoot - and I'm fascinated by her line of work as an Art Therapist - her answers to all of my questions about her patients make these runs enjoyable and passes time nicely on the trail. It is also fun to talk about home, going to the shore, etc. etc. I was relieved to see her Saturday, because none of my other teammates were there. I did not know, however, that I would need her more than ever to finish this run. We agreed to run 7 minutes and walk 1 minute for the route.

So off we went onto the Custis Trail. The air was thick and the sun was bright and the hills were challenging to say the least. We got past the hills to flat ground around mile 3. Running was difficult even without the hills. There were parts of the trail that were shaded by the barrier wall that butts up to Route 66. It was dangerous to run in the shade, though, because it is on the right side of the path (park traffic rules say to stay on the left side) and bikers, who have not a bit of sympathy for their jogging trailmates, speed around blind curves with no warning and little care for people in their way. We ran slower than usual, but we had no choice. It was way too hot to be time ambitious on a day like this. I just wanted to get the miles on my shoes.

At mile 8 we hit a stretch of the trail that was even hotter than where we had just come from. There was absolutely no shade, and the sun was growing stronger with every passing minute. We continued on into the heat, which seemed to be paralized at ground level by the thick vegetation on either side of the trail. Because of this, the humidity was much worse than the first 8 miles - trust me when I say that this can hit you really hard when you are not expecting it. Meg's feet were hurting and my knees were starting to ache. We pushed eachother to keep going, and shared thoughts about how this was easy compared to those lives of people for whom we're running. We made it a few more miles. Breathing at that stretch of the trail was hard -- I can only compare it what it might feel like breathing through a canvas bag.

At mile 11, we reached a water stop and the turnaround point at George Mason Drive. All we had to do was run back! 5 miles - cake, right? Not so much. My knees really hurt. I wasn't sweating any more yet I had been drinking tons of H20. I had to pee. The sun was so bright and fierce - I wanted to hide from it. At this point, it was probably about 100 degrees or more, considering the direct path of the sun on the trail and bushes and weeds and plants that kept the heat and humidity grounded. The anticipation I had been feeling all week about this run crept into my head. The combination of the elements and my lack of confidence sent me into panic. I felt goosebumps on my arms. I was ready to give up - and I told Meg to go on without me.

Meg refused to leave me, and suggested instead that we change it up by listening to our Ipods. After a bit I started sweating again. I forwarded past a few songs - Simon&Garfunkel was too slow, Squeeze was too fast, the Beasties weren't doing it for me either. I got frustrated and started to get angry. It is amazing what pushing yourself to an extreme can do to you emotionally. Anger, really? In my head I was cursing the trail, the bikers who kept speeding past us, cursing my knees and those stupid wedge heels, cursing myself for being such a wuss. I was angry at the smells in the air and the leaves on the trees. I was mad at Meg for pushing me this far -- when I easily could have given up 4 miles ago. I was insanely angry at the DC Dept of Transportation for closing Canal Road. I was mad at Coach Rich simply because we ran past him and he was there for me to hate. It was an awful and irrational spiral of mental rage, and I thank God Meg was busy listening to her Ipod during these few minutes. The heat was living in my head as the emotional form of hatred.

As we approached mile 14, The City of New Orleans played on my Ipod. It was the trigger I needed to release my emotional toxins. Tears started pouring down my face as I remembered the CD that Cimini burned for me years ago. It was senior year - and I didn't know the name of the song, or the artist, but just a few lyrics I kept singing over and over. I came back from class one day to find a CD on my desk with the words "Play Me' written on it in black sharpie. I thought of his face and his dimples and his contagious smile, and cried. It was a release like no other - cathartic as Meg would say later.

At the water stop I was still crying, but I can't explain why. At this point, it wasn't the memory of Cim, it was overall exhaustion and extreme discomfort. It felt so good to let it all go - the hate, the sorrow, the worry, the panic. All of it taking the physical form of salty tears streaming down my face. Meg was right there next to me, making me think that none of this was strange or abnormal. She's an absolute saint.

Coach Mark suggested I pour water on my head, my wrists and my ankles to cool off. It worked. His words of advice were so soothing - he had a very similar experience during a 10 mile run in these conditions and could only run 8. He told me I wasn't the first runner of the day to break down and cry, and even said that he pulled runners off the trail at mile 9 due to heat stroke/exhaustion. I felt much better. Mark had been suggesting that no one run the last 2 miles - because of the hills - and reassured us that it didn't matter how we got 16 miles in our shoes, just that we finished. He also mentioned that I shouldn't blame myself for not training properly last week - that the elements on a such a day defies all norms about marathon training. As we walked away from the water stop Mark called us heroes.

Meg and I walked the remaining 2 miles and were thrilled to be finished. I drank some powerade, got in my car, and got lost on my way home.

I thought about this experience all day yesterday and woke up today thinking about it some more. I'm positive I could not have done this without Meg by my side. She encouraged me to keep running when I was going to give up, and refused to leave me even when I insisted that she do so. I hope to be that pillar of strength for someone someday. I believe that to keep it going, you have to pay attention, pay it back, and pay it forward too.



City of New Orleans
Written by Steve Goodman
Best performed by Arlo Guthrie

Riding on the City of New Orleans,
Illinois Central Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders,
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail.
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulls out at Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms and fields.
Passin' trains that have no names,
Freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.

Good morning America how are you?
Don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.
Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car.
Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score.
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor.
And the sons of pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel.
Mothers with their babes asleep,
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.

Nighttime on The City of New Orleans,
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee.
Half way home, we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea.
And all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain't heard the news.
The conductor sings his song again,
The passengers will please refrain
This train's got the disappearing railroad blues.
Good night, America, how are you?
Don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.