Guest Post Goodness: Sharla!

A while back I put out a call on twitter to see if anyone was interested in doing a guest post for me. I was a little  nervous (oh who am I kidding): I honestly didn’t think anyone would respond. In fact quite a few of you responded (and warmed the cockles of my heart – I know there’s a dirty joke in here somewhere). I now have an email inbox with half-dozen or so of some awesome guest posts that I’ll be using over the next couple of weeks. It’s awesome to let other bloggers use my space to get some of their words out. If you haven’t done it (let someone guest post for you or write a guest post for someone else) I highly recommend it!

If you’re interested in swapping blogs for the day and writing a guest post for me or vice versa shoot me an email and let’s plan a “Blog-over!” (see what I did there?!!?)

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Sharla who blogs over at “A Journey of 26.2 Miles Begins With A Blog” is not only a kick ass person in the “Blogiverse” and on twitter (@262milejourney), she’s also a kick ass friend in my real life. I got real lucky in finding this one just up the next city from me. We run together. We coffee together. We plan 187 mile relay races together.

I stalk love her.

Without further ado…

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My first trail run

A long time ago I had a dream about running on a trail and coming around a bend only to be staring at a mountain lion. It got down into a low crouch and started stalking toward me. I was frozen at the absurdity of the situation, simultaneously knowing I needed to do something to avoid being mauled and marveling at the complete absence of fear despite knowing the average male mountain lion outweighs me. Not by much mind you, but they’ve got to be 85% muscle and 10% teeth/claws (5% miscellaneous) and my ratios are very different.

As it launched itself at me, I kicked it in the jaw and screamed “Bad kitty!” It sort of meow-squeaked, and then hit the trail completely unconscious. I finished my run in peace. I did stop to let the park ranger know that there was a cougar up the mountain that most likely had a dislocated jaw and probably needed medical attention. Then I flew home. It’s a lot like snorkeling, in case you’re curious.

In my dreams I’m so much more of a badass than I am in real life.

Thankfully, I did not have to test that dream theory of self-defense on my first trail run/race. I don’t think there are any bad kitties that live in the park where my race was held, and I’m grateful for that.

The first 0.8 mile was totally insane. It had to have been 6-8” of mud. I don’t know if trail runners have terms for different sorts of mud, but this stuff was the shculck kind. That’s the sound it made with each step I took, as I fought the mud for possession of my shoes. I totally won the war, but there were a few close calls.

I was barely a mile into the run before quitting crossed my mind. The old demon voices that start-up telling you that you really have no place amongst all these ‘real’ runners. If you’re so out of breath after a single mile then there is no way you’ll ever meet your distance goals. And on and on and on.

Actually, those thoughts didn’t get very far with me today. I’m guessing that it was because I was so out of breath that the oxygen just wasn’t getting to my brain.

After that first 0.8 mile we moved onto a single track. It was infinity times better to run on, despite roots, rocks, and tree branches at exactly eye-height. I settled in to some sort of trance pace and ran in (mental) silence for the next mile or so. I remember glancing down at my Garmin and noticing that I was a little over half way. On the streets when I hit my halfway point I like to tell myself that “it’s all downhill from here”, metaphorically speaking. I did not find that thought to be comforting at all this morning. Possibly because I was facing another steep (but short) climb.

Eventually the pack thinned out. I feel like I can take partial credit for this by letting everyone else pass me. 😉 That was probably the highlight of the run for me – occasionally seeing flashes of brightly colored running gear though the trees, but for all intents and purposes being totally alone.

Then the joy of the single track came to an end. I made a new friend at the start and we high-fived as she passed by in the other direction, back on the main trail (aka shoe-eating mess). I made it to the turn around/aid station and then faced my last mile.

It was maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was a steep, long hill in the schluck mud. Every time I thought I was at the last bend, the trail appeared to stretch on forever. And then, all of a sudden, I was done.

It was so amazing. I’m finding it extremely difficult to express how much fun this was, how at home I felt running in the woods and with this group of people.

I can’t think of a better way to break in a new pair of shoes.