"Share the trail" means "Get the hell out of my way"

I will be coming to New York this weekend instead of next weekend (I know, it's a surprise to me too). I'll probably take the Chinatown bus in on Friday night or Saturday morning. New York folks, let me know ASAP if you'll be around.

On Sunday I felt that I hadn't had enough of the cold after the Freeze Your %@&#$ Off 39.5 and decided to go for a long run. I decided to run in the woods, since weekends are the only time I can get out in daylight hours. It was a beautiful, crisp day, the sun was out, and all was right in the world except that I was in a foul mood!

All was going well as I caught up on the blogs that I'd missed out on after my mad scramble for the Freeze your %@&#$ 39.5. I didn't have to talk to any real people and I was on the internet where we all have the patience of saints, I didn't even know I was in a bad mood yet. However, when I went down to get ready for my run and saw that my mother had gone to church with all my cold weather gear still in the car I threw a temper tantrum. It was a 2-year-old's temper tantrum that I allowed myself to indulge in only because I knew that I was home alone and that all the windows were closed so the neighbors couldn't hear me. When I found my coat hung up in the wrong place I screamed and threw it on the ground. Then I picked it up to hang it back up and screamed and threw it right back down when I saw that a button had been knocked off by the SOB who'd hung it in the wrong place. I stomped a bit, threw a couple more unbreakable things onto soft surfaces, and growled dramatically. With that out of my system, I put everything back away, ate half a sandwich, and spent some more time on my soon-to-be-released new blog. Clearly, I really needed this run.

Within an hour I had cooled down enough to go out in public. I layered up in my not-so-sexy, better-to-be-worn-at-night-when-no-one-can-see-you cold weather clothes, grabbed some Gatorade that I hadn't emptied from my Camelbak yet (being a slob does have its perks), and hit the road.

When I'd run about 3/4 of a mile straight uphill I realized that I'd forgotten my Clif Shots at home. I decided not to go back because the sandwich I'd eaten seemed to want to make a break for freedom, and who knew if I'd come back out if I went home now.

I was going to try a new rout that could be between 10 and 16 miles depending on where I decided to come out of the woods, but I didn't have much information about where to pick up the trail except trying to match a pdf map up with a Google satellite photo and cross-check that with my awful memory and sense of direction. When I came to the trail head that I'd thought I was looking at on the google map, I realized I was wrong about that too. I stopped my watch to take stock and let the sandwich settle into its new riding conditions...

I'm stopped for two minutes at a water treatment plant next to the reservoir where there's no parking, and still someone catches me slacking off. A woman came up behind me dressed like she's just bought out all of Eastern Mountain Sports and pointed at the chain I was standing in front of. On said chain there was a sign that said, PUBLIC WATER SUPPLY, NO TRESPASSING. "Do you thing they mean that?" Ms. Gore-tex Outerwear 2007 asked me.
"If they did they would have put up more than a chain," I said. "And they would have covered up that footpath over there." Indeed, there was a well-used footpath going around the barrier, not that the chain itself was going to stop anyone from stepping over it.

A minute later I followed suit and stepped over the chain. In my opinion, if you don't want people to trespass, you don't put a nice, wide, even path all the way around the reservoir and continue putting NO TRESPASSING signs on every tree, even a mile from the nearest communicating path if you don't want people to run on it. I mean, come on, every high school aged kid in town's gone skinny dipping in that water anyway (except for me of course, nor have I ever vomited 2 40 oz. bottles' worth of Steel Reserve into its crystalline waters). I ran some 2-3 miles around the lake and found myself face-to-face with a fence stretching all the way to a ten-foot drop into what would be the lake in wetter years. The only way to get around was to climb over the railing and walk on the 2-3 inch ledge for a couple of feet clinging to the fence. Oh crap, have I ever mentioned that I'm afraid of heights? I got around without incident, though, and before starting out on a wider loop I looked at my watch to see how long the loop on the Forbidden Trail had taken me. What the fuck?! My watch had been stopped the whole time! In a good mood this would have barely phased me, but I was in a rotten mood and vaulted me right back into rage.

I ran off to do my usual 5.2 mile (although I think it's more) loop backwards (because backwards it's like a whole new trail). I was seething because my gear was fucked up, my nutrition was fucked up, my rout was fucked up, my data was fucked up, and my day was fucked up. Could this run get any worse?! Of course it could...

Most of the trail is single-track through rocks, trees and thick underbrush. In other words, it's not good terrain for passing, especially if bubble-headed 7-year-olds dressed in pink from head to toe are zoning out in the middle of it blocking your way. And everybody in eastern Massachusetts seemed to be out on that trail that day. Of course, that would have been fine, if they hadn't all brought their dogs, their neighbors' dogs, and their neighbor's cousin's best friend's 4 dogs along with them. I must have seen about 50 people and twice as many dogs that day. Have I mentioned that I'm afraid of dogs? I am very afraid of dogs... especially bigger dogs... especially if they're not on leashes... especially if they're running at me. I'm not kidding, most of the people I saw had a dog, and most of them had more than one dog, and none of them were on leashes, and most of them were big, jumpy black labs. The first close was when a black lab bounded towards me just to stop about 10 feet before catching me and stare at me with that stupid, "Throw me a stick!" look on his face. I'll tell you where you can stick it, you horrible mutt! I thought and gave its owners a dirty look. Later on I ran past a guy who's snapping, "Comet! Comet!" with his hands cupped around his mouth. He was facing in the direction that I was going. I passed him and came to a spot where three trails came together, and (I swear I'm not making this up) a dog comes sprinting down each one of those paths - one of which was a black lab of course - and they converge in a writing ball of romping doggie horseplay a mere three feet in front of where I'd stopped in my tracks, frozen in terror. If you can't get your fucking dog to come when you call, keep him on a fucking leash! I thought as I hightailed it out of there. I was not having fun anymore. I was still a good 2 miles into the woods, but I just wanted to get home already. Not only was there a dog around every turn, but I kept losing the trail under all the leaves and I was getting tired and hungry and this run was doing nothing for my mood. I rounded a bend and there in front of me was a man walking four black labs. When they saw me two of them took off in my direction with big stupid doggie smiles on their faces. I froze in terror, half crouched with my elbows in tight to protect my vital organs. The first beast pounced on me. His front paws landed on my chest and slipped down, then he jumped again and his paws landed squarely on my shoulders so we looked like we were about to slow dance. Only I looked like I was about to shit my pants. "Off, off" said the owner in a disinterested monotone. The dog was not deterred and I could feel its horrible moist breath on my face and its groping paws tearing at the cord to my headphones. When the monster was finally off of me the owner kinda grunted, "Sorry."
"Yeah. Excuse me, it's just that I've got this awful phobia of dogs..." I said. In my head I said, Kujo there should be shot, and then you shortly afterwards if you can't keep him under control!

From then on every time I passed a dog I could hear it rustling through the underbrush after me and I went tense. I know, I know, they can smell your fear, but what am I supposed to do if I'm afraid of dogs! If one more dog had so much as looked at me I was ready to scream, "Get your fucking dog off of me!" in my best crazylady voice and then marched down to town hall to get an ordinance passed.

I know that many of my readers have very lovable pooches at home, and this is not meant to offend them. I'm also fairly certain that my readers who have dogs make sure they get to burn off their energy more often than a sunny Sunday blowout once a month (or, like Angry's dog, maybe they're just too fat). But even if you're not terrified of dogs, it's still pretty unpleasant to have one tackle you in the middle of your long run.



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Weird...

I was running the other day on rocky, windy trails in the woods. It was the site of my heroic and horrific spill this summer. I was running around, flying around corners and hopping over uneven ground. I was moving slowly, but with all the obstacles and hills I couldn't safely move any faster, so I could forgive my snail's pace. After about an hour of scaring off squirrels and chipmunks hiding in the underbrush I stopped to walk a bit and recharge my battery. As I usually do when I'm nervous or have nothing to do with my hands I started poking my stomach to see if 6 pack abs had materialized while I wasn't paying attention (as of yet, this has not happened). I tried to flex and was met with a funny feeling. It was kind of like a tingly weakness, like... fatigue? I contracted again to make sure. Hey wait, I think they've already been flexed this whole time! It's true! Running DOES work your abs! Suddenly I've found a worthwhile reason to run!

On a Separate Note

Job hunting has been grueling, taking up 6-10 hours of every day, but yesterday after 2 telephone interviews, 2 follow-up phone calls, sending in a new resume, and a confirmation email about another interview, I found myself with the afternoon off. I had only a dollar in my pocket and my dad wasn't home, so there wasn't much I could do outside the house. I sat down to watch TV, but in 500+ channels I couldn't find anything that I wanted to watch. So you know what I did? (Holds hands in front of face in shame) I watched FitTv! I did about 1/2 an hour of something that I think was called Caribbean Workout which reminded me of why I never do aerobics: I'm always that chick who can't for the life of her figure out the steps. There's one in every aerobics class who just stands there twirling and thrashing, looking helplessly at her classmates' feet trying desperately to catch up while everyone stares in awe and morbid curiosity at the freak in the mirror that can't do a grape vine with her arms above her head. That chick's me. Then, a heavily-muscled hulk with an accent named Gilad came on (with his mom) and made me punch my way to stronger abs, back, and biceps. I could follow through the "jab, jab, hook, jab, uppercut" after a little practice, but after that I got lost and wound up thrashing even worse than in Caribbean Workout. And why are all these programs filmed on the beach? When was the last time you went to the beach and saw half a dozen people in leotards doing kick-boxing on a 10'x6' rubber mat? When was the last time you brought YOUR rubber mat to the beach (or any public place for that matter) to do "V-step right, V-step left, squat!"? But the worst thing about FitTV was the commercials! This is to be expected, but still! I'm fascinated by commercials and what they say about their target audiences, but I was a little bit insulted that the only ads were for Kashi cereal (okay), Weight Watchers (to be expected), Jenny Craig (no surprise there), diabetes medication (well that's good, hopefully this network is making a difference in someone's life), medications with a side effect of weight loss (now that's getting a bit fucked up), and Botox (now I'm scared). I turned off the tube and picked up a book before Blaine's Low Carb Kitchen.

Next thing you know I'll be eating granola and wearing burkenstocks

Reservoir Trail

Orange blazes. 5.2 miles. Average hiking time 3.5 hours. This trail encircles the north, middle and south reservoirs and the open water can be seen from many sites (the reservoirs are for drinking water, so access to them is prohibited). A moderate to difficult hike.

Yesterday I tried the woods again. Last time had me wheezing for air and running around in a tight circle for 15 minutes before I gave up and ran for the familiar sidewalks of my hometown. This time I had a fantastic run. I went for a different entrance into the woods and found a well-marked trail with a well-marked distance that was perfect. I breathed free and easy and felt like a gazelle bounding through the woods. This is a real trail, I thought. This isn't one of those fire trails that real trail runners scoff at. I'm really trail running. This is fun! With the sure-footedness of a mountain goat I pranced over jagged rocks poking their pointy heads out of the dirt, over tree roots that swelled out of the ground underfoot, over little log and plank bridges that bounced and shook underfoot, off craggy rock outcroppings that had me leaping off treacherous 8-inch drops. Maybe it was because the terrain kept me from running too fast, maybe it was because the temperature had dropped, and maybe it was because I'm finally getting my aerobic capacity back, but I was breathing free and easy and my heart felt like it was pumping blood to my muscles and not just futily fluttering away in my chest. I basked in the enjoyment of being in real nature.

And that feeling lasted a little while...

..until I leapt off a rock, landed on some uneven ground filled with spiky rocks sticking up out of the ground at weird angles, and my ankle exploded. I have bad ankles. This could be from when I used to inline skate 3 hours a day over rough pavement that would jostle my ankles like a thousand tiny Louise Woodwards. It could be from too many reckless trail runs in road shoes. It could be from that night that I hiked 11 hours in the dark over rough terrain and relied on my ankles to catch me any time I stepped on something I wasn't expecting. Maybe it's genetic. I don't know why I have bad ankles, but I know that I can rotate them and crack them every morning like an old lady and that they hurt when I walk or run on anything uneven, especially lately. So every time I stepped on a root, a rock, or anything uneven and my ankles had to lean either this way or that, a burning, aching awfulness spread through my ankles, feet and shins.

But here I was out here in the middle of nature, and like hell I was going to stop because of some bitchy ankles which burned and ached every time I stepped on something weird. I tripped over a tree root that almost sent me summersaulting over pointy rocks and pine needles. When it happened again about 15 minutes later I started thinking about how exciting it would be if I came home bloody and covered in dirt and pine needles and got to brag about how I ran all the way home bleeding like a warrior. (Un)Fortunately I did not fall, and when I got home all I was covered with was dead gnats which had gotten caught in my sweat.

When I found my way back out into civilization after only getting lost twice I looked down at my watch 1:15 since my house. It sounds short, but this is the longest I'd run in a looooooooooong time. Especially these last few days when my heart feels like it's going to explode after about 30 minutes. And the best part? I was so busy watching for roots, rocks, puddles, trail markers, and other obstacles, that I didn't look at my watch that whole time! I wasn't even bored! I LOVE running!

Chalk one point up for Boston.