So Long, Long Runs

It's the start of my taper, and I am celebrating with a massive headache. Every time I move a bolt of pain shoots through my brain, which hasn't put me in an active mood. Hopefully it will subside soon, otherwise I might end up writing a really cranky blog.

I ran my last long run with Chris Fudge Sunday morning in Hampton. I initially planned on running for three hours, but work duties and Fudge family requirements whittled my running time down to two-and-a-half hours. Chris had a spectacular run planned for us, though, so I looked forward to the adventure, even if it was a little shorter than expected.

We started at Chris' house on Main Street and veered left at Kredl's (a popular market on Hampton's main drag) onto the Pickwauket Road. I expressed my concern about running on Pickwauket - the road is filled with blind knolls and corners, and fast driving cars appear out of nowhere - but Chris said that if I could make it to the Norton Shore Road in one piece, the view would be worth it. As long as my view didn't include a car heading straight towards me, I would be fine.

Luckily, the road was sparsely populated with cars, and soon I was running down the beautiful Norton Shore Road. The fall colors were in full display, and there were several walkers and bikers enjoying the wonderful day. Dozens of boats were parked in the Kennebecasis River, in what Chris and I decided was some sort of fishing contest. We looked at the river, and at the local real estate, and daydreamed about owning property in the area. I'm not sure how much a house goes for on the Norton Shore Road, but view of the Kennebecasis River is priceless.

Chris' stomach started bothering him around an hour in, and after about fifteen minutes of complaining he decided to pull over for a, um, pit stop. I decided that it was a good place to turn around, but before I did, I told Chris that I would have to include his trip to the roadside powder room in my blog. "I know," he said with a grimace before heading into the woods. And I wonder why it's hard to find running partners.

I ended up running solo for fifteen minutes, and came to the realization that I missed a lot of scenery during the first part of my adventure. Houses I didn't see the first time around popped out of the woods, and spectacular cliffs rose from the roadside. Chris was right; this was spectacular run.

Chris eventually caught up (what was he doing in the woods all that time, anyway), and we made our way back to his place as quickly as possible. I picked up the pace for the second half of the run in hopes of a negative split, but since I didn't know the route very well, I had no idea if I was on target or not. It wasn't until I saw the cars at Kredl's that I knew that a negative split was in sight. I powered the last kilometer back to Chris' house, and finished my run three minutes faster than anticipated. Mission accomplished. Now let's start to taper.

I am cutting back on my mileage, but my blogging schedule will stay the same. I have a lot of writing ground to cover between now and the marathon, so stay tuned!

Nature Park (now with 5 times more park!)

I am running the Kennebecasis Challenge Marathon in less than a month, and I have yet to set foot on the course. I planned on running the route today (well, a portion of it) with Brent Bethune and a handful of local runners, but fell asleep on my couch and missed the alarm clock. By the time I woke up, they were already well into their run. Guess I'll have to wait until race day.

Waking up late threw a major wrench in my running plans. My next move was to call Chris Fudge, but he had family obligations and couldn't join me on a three hour jaunt (I haven't seen him much since our fateful Labour Day run; I hope he's not weary of biking with me). I was going to call Clinton Charlton, but he spends every Sunday with his daughter and I figured he wouldn't have time. This meant I would have to run alone, which left me with one option: five loops of the Irving Nature Park.

I wasn't exactly overjoyed with the notion of running the park five times, and took my sweet time getting ready. By the time I was ready to head out the door it was 4:00PM, which barely gave me enough time to finish before dark. Could I do it?

Loop 1: 32:23

I went through the first kilometer in a little over five minutes, which I thought was a little quick for a long, slow, distance run. However, I hard time slowing down, and ended up averaging a little less than five minutes per kilometer for the entire loop. My finishing time was two minutes faster than my quickest loop during my last long Nature Park Run (see Nature Park Park Park Park and a Bit for details), and I wondered if I could hold the pace.

Loop 2: 32:12

I started out with the intent of going a little slower, and couldn't do it. My body was already locked into the pace, and I was churning the kilometers out with ease. Of course, the idea of walking the last loop crossed my mind, but I pushed the negative thoughts out of my head and continued enjoying the run.

Loop 3: 31:08

Is it just me, or is the fifth kilometer longer than the rest? It is consistently my slowest portion of the Nature Park, and it always seems to drag on forever, no matter how well I am pacing myself. I was running around 4:45 per kilometer until this dreaded kilometer, and lo and behold, I slowed down. That being said, it was still my fastest loop of the day, and I did it with ease. Maybe I would survive the run after all.

Loop 4: 31:32

If you run several loops of a park in a row, you'll inevitably see the same people more than once. I ran by one women three times; the third time she giggled and quipped, "Oh, come on now!" Apparently, running the Nature Park five times is a bit ridiculous to some people. Pain was starting to creep into my legs and hips, but it didn't affect my pace. One more loop to go.

Loop 5: 32:20

I thought I would fall apart at this point, but I managed to average five minute kilometers for the last loop. Of course, it wasn't easy; my legs were starting to tire, and the hills were proving more difficult with each passing kilometer. I had a chance to run a sub 2:40 though, so I started pretending that I was finishing my marathon with a Boston qualifying time in my sights. With one mile remaining I picked up the pace, and finished my 32.5 kilometer run in 2:39.37. I was done, and it was still light out. Sweet.

Now I am home, and feeling great. I'll probably do one more long, slow run before I start my taper (next Sunday if all goes well), but I doubt I will run as fast as I did today. With only three weeks to go, my best bet is to take it easy, and focus on recovery until the big day. Hopefully I don't run myself into ground before then.

Labour Pains, Part Three w/special guest Chris Fudge

A Laborious Weekend Run by Chris Fudge (with additional commentary by Chuck)

Right out of the gate I should known our 30 k was going to be rough one when Chuck said he was a little worried. It didn't occur to me that this time it might be rough on me! We packed up on 6 liters of water, 3 rice crisp squares, 2 granola bars and a backup fruit snack. Plenty for this run.

This was my 3rd long bike-run with chuck this season and, as always, was more than happy to be the pack mule. It gives me a little extra work on the bike while he grunts through on foot. Most times this is never really an issue and I barely notice. Until today...

Our good friend Clinton jumped on board to join us while we take in the scenery and and looked forward to the long distance challenge (it may not seem like much when you consider we are on bikes and chuck is on foot, but with little long distance experience and a pack on back, it can be).

Generally we have an action plan that is talked about earlier (see previous blogs) but on this run I think Chuck was exited to see what I thought of the off trail paths he had planned out. I was excited as well. Most of the runs we do have far more road action and I'm keen on honing my dirt skills with my Mountain Bike. Maybe a few hills, rocks to navigate and near miss trees to get my heart beating.

We headed East on the familiar Golden Grove on a very promising first day of fall. A few kilometers in Chuck took us off road and into the tress and hills. At first I could see this was a generic ATV trail that had a few 'private road' signs and nice summer cabins around some small dead lakes. Pretty typical for New Brunswick and perfect for a few fellas on bikes and a jogger.

Chuck can get a good pace when running and generally always takes the lead when I am trying to huff up a hill. This was no different today and adding dirt to play in he took off with a good start on this trail.

Our first hitch on this trail came when Clinton and I had to navigate a few small puddles. Nothing big and certainly nothing I wouldn't normally bomb through on any normal biking day, but my better judgment kicks in when I need to consider I still have 25 kilometers to bike. Wet feet can wait for the latter half.

The trail otherwise was nice. plenty of up and down with ATV tread to ride. It didn't take long to see why Chuck dediced on this path. Uphill was immenent, and as always, I spew to myself the classic 'what goes up,must come down' to motivate myself. I can always look forward to this to catch up on Chuck and ask if he wants a little hydration.

This first 'real' uphill had way too much loose rock to sweat on and Clinton and I deiced to walk our bikes up. The real problem was, this hill didn't want to stop! Clinton and I had to remind ourselves that it had to end soon, this isn't the Rockies!

Halfway up, I see Chuck. Coming down! "@#$%," he said.
"What's wrong?"
"Wrong way, there's a bus."
"Ok."

This was when I pulled out my phone. I have a GPS built in and being the geography geek I am, decided to get my bearings for the first time (a habit I plan on using at the start of ALL our future runs). It appears there was another path heading to 1st Lake.

Onward Forward! Clinton and I followed Chuck through another path, thinking there must be a path that follows the diameter of the lake. Sweet! Nothing better than a bike ride around the edge of a lake.

When Clinton and I made it down (what ended up a very fun downhill trail) we ran into Chuck again.

"!@#$"
"Wrong way?"
"Yup, shoulda kept going."

This is where things start to feel bad. Neverming that the loose rock trails were slowing us down from Chuck, but now we had to back track. And there is nothing worse than back tracking on a 30K run.

So up the path we came, losing Chuck and making our way back up the original mess we had started on.
We finally crossed path with the bus (It's pretty typical to see a VW rusting away in the deep woods of NB, but not normally a full sized school bus!) which makes me want to pose a question with Chuck: why would this upside down school bus deter you originally? You didn't see this the last time you ran this trail? (I thought the bus was on a different trail. You couldn't see it on your GPS?) It was at the point of the bus the monstrous hill we were climbing started to level off. Our best hope of catching up with Chuck was the decent that I prayed was going to happen.

And it did. Loose rock, tires splitting, head over handle bars downhill. Sound like fun? Yes and no. Yes, because it's fun to try and make our way down without killing ourselves. No, because in the back of my head, I knew we needed to catch up with Chuck to give him some of the 4 1/2 liters of water we had left. This is not easy on this kind of terrain. No bombing, just finess and careful eyes.

At the bottom we came to another fork. Well now, here's a predicament. Chuck, any chance you told us this earlier and we both forgot? Or did you miss it? (Missed it. Didn't even see it. My bad.) Out came the GPS. (Let me know when the wedding is.)

It appears that we made it to the other side of 1st Lake. There was a path leading directly to Baxter's Corner and another leading around 2nd Lake, out further into the sticks and then back to Baxter's Corner. I assumed since we had already trudged through this much wilderness that Chuck would have wanted to start making our way back through to the Airport, down to Churchland Road, and finally back to our starting point. Apparently, I was wrong.

Clinton and I hit a small a small channel that fed from 1st Lake into 2nd Lake on our way towards Baxter's Corner. We ran into a few fisherman coming the other way who answered Clinton's, "Hey Guys, know how to cross this thing?" with, "We were curious to see what you would do!" One of the fishermen just waded through upto the thigh in what appeared to be the shallow part. Clinton and I followed suit, bikes over our shoulder and over to the other side. I can't believe Chuck took us through this!! (I didn't.)

Clinton and I decided to take a small rest and head foward. My mind was still at unease, knowing that Chuck had run so far without a drop of our 3 1/2 litres of water, a fruit snack, or a nibble of the 2 granola bars.

Things got easier at this point. No more back country loose rock from hell, just pavement. Not a sight I would normally embrace,but considering the terrain we just huffed though, a happy sight.

We put our bikes in top gear to catch up to Chuck. I know this road and there is no real uphill so we I know we can make it to him. Off we go.

We were somewhere near the St . Martin's fork when I got a phone call. Chuck. (we had joked earlier about whether he had the gumption to just ask anyone if they had a phone he could use) (I have no shame.). Apparently he was BEHIND us! How? Right, the fork. Chuck's plan was to take the other lake and go around it and back track.

Clinton and I huddled around my speakerphone trying to figure out where he was when Chuck (who must have decided he had worn out his welcome on this strangers phone) said "Ok, well, I gotta go."

We couldn't do much but keep going. We didn't know where he was so I couldn't backtrack to give him water. Our only alternative was to keep going, get the car and hope we can find him. On a whim (and I would never have done this if I didn't already know I was coming back to pick it up) I set up a 500ml bottleof water in a Gatorade bottle on the side of the road. (Thank God that was you!) To many, this would look like litter. But to Chuck,it might as well have had a bow tie and flashing lights with an arrow. I could only hope he might realise this was the same old plastic bottle I've been toting on my bike the last few runs.

In light of our events, Clinton and I decided trudge through the Airport road and straight down to the Golden Grove, which apparently must was our 2nd short cutof the day. We made it back in roughly half an hour and jumped into the car. I couldn't wait to hit Chuck with the 2 1/2 liters of water and 1 granola bar. He must have been melting away.

I sped up the through way without caring that the A/C was eating up the gas. We needed to get to Chuck! He was probably a withered salty mess!

We neared the same spot we spoke with him on the phone when we saw that white clad red head bobbing up and down the road. There he is! We pulled over unsure if he would only want the water, or get in!

He got in. It was in fact enough for him too.

"Dude, you want some water?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, please ...oh, I want...to..ask you something."

I hadnt realized before he had a plastic water bottle in his hands.

"PLEASE tell me that was YOUR water bottleon the side of the road."

Yup.

I don't have an easy way to end this...uh....novel of a day, but I can tell that the next time head out, I'm charting our course. I don't want to get Chucked on the next run.

Labour Pains, Part Two w/special guest Clinton Charlton

Three Hours My Foot: My Adventure with Chuck and Chris
- by Clinton Charlton (with additional commentary by Chuck Teed)

Labour Day was a fitting metaphor for my inaugural long distance ride with my buddy Chuck Teed. Inspired by my good friend Chris Fudge, I recently purchased myself a decent bike to tackle some trails and get back into shape... somewhat (anything but a pear would be an imrpovement at this point). I was pretty excited at the idea of doing my first 30k and I spent the night before imagining what my new bike, a KHS Alite 1000, would look like covered in mud. I had visions of drinking Gatorade while summer sweat rolled down my rippling bicep (hey it's my vision alright!). The morning of, however, my excitement turned to nerves as I wondered if I would even be able to stay on my bike long enough to see the completion of the ride, let alone keep up with my friends. I have done a few rides as of late without too much effort, but certainly nothing more than 15k at the most. Oh well, no turning back now. When Chuck arrived at my house at 10am, my nerves gave way to excitement again, and I could not wait to meet up with Chris and start this journey. This was until Chuck piped up and said "I'm a little nervous about today".

PARDON ME!?!

At this point, I pounded Chuck with what was surely an unreasonable barrage of questions about what I could expect from today's trails. Chuck assured me it would be fine and that we were trekking through a series of roads and trails through the woods that would amount to about 34k altogether. Three hours from now my nerves would be replaced with that glowing sense of accomplishment and perhaps even a plate of guilt free french fries (more on that later). Alright, we're at Chuck's mom's house eating granola bars and waiting for Chris to arrive. What was I even nervous about? Chris arrives and we tune up the bikes while Chuck putters about his mom's garage. Some small talk and a few questions later, we're on the road.

"This ain't so bad" I thought. We hit a few hills right away but I knew to expect that. The weather was perfect and after the initial grunt and heavy breath, I started to catch my stride. Chris and I made small talk while Chuck ran off ahead. I knew we'd catch him on the downhills anyway, so I was not concerned. When we finally made the crest of the final hill, Chris and I stopped for a sip of Powerade while I checked out my bicep (sigh...not a single ripple). We made our way downhill to Chuck and then turned onto a dirt path that led us into the woods. The trail was great and had just enough tree trunks and small rocks to make it feel like my new bike was worth every penny. Soon the trail turned uphill and was riddled with loose rocks that resembled those you might find on a river bed. It made for a difficult climb but nonetheless, I was thoroughly enjoying myself. Again, Chuck took off ahead, with Chris and I confident we would catch him on the downhill.

Then it began...

Moments later Chuck came stammering down the trail in our direction murmuring something about a school bus and the words "wrong way". Chris and I gave a chuckle (PUN!) and turned around to follow Chuck. We proceeded down a trail that most bikers would only dream of. It was the perfect combination of trunks, stones and brush and it was mostly downhill. We made it about fifteen minutes down this trail when Chuck came back in our direction yet again. Ugh!

"Sorry boys" Chuck said "the first trail was the right way". Chris confirmed this with the GPS on his new state of the art cell phone. (Where was that state of the art contraption when I made the mistake in the first place?)

Chuck ran off ahead while Chris and I made our way back up the hill and back onto the first trail. Now confident that we were on the right track, Chris and I climbed up a series of loose rocks that seem to increase in size with each mile of what seemed like an endless hill. Positive that Chuck was quite far ahead, Chris and I assured each other that we would catch him on the downhill. Our concern was that Chris was carrying a backpack that had all of the day's supply of food and water. "Oh well, we'll catch him" we thought. The hill continued for what seemed like forever and each time we'd make a crest, it only led to another section of more incline. The rocks were quite difficult to navigate and to top it off, our feet were soaked from the multiple bogs and puddles that riddled the flat areas (which were few and far between). Finally we crested the final incline. Before Chris and I began the descent, we inspected my caliper and tried to isolate a noise that my bike had been making (turns out it was just caked on mud). At this pont I started to feel tired and I powered up with some water and the joy of knowing that the downhill would be a blast.

Wrong!

The downhill was way worse than the climb (sorry about that). The rocks got bigger and it was impossible to navigate our way through it with any speed. It dawned at me at this point that Chuck would be much faster on foot and I worried that he may need water soon. Chris and I trekked on through the rocks and finally made our way to flat land. Chris and I decided to pick up as much speed as we could in an effort to find our friend and get him some water. This was until we got to a fork in the trail. It was a total crap shoot at this point as to which way Chuck could have gone but Chris and I made a decision to take the trail that veered to the right after we conferred again with his GPS. Apprently this was not the way Chuck went, but how were we to know?

Chris and I made our way to First Lake and ended up travelling along the beach until we came to an inlet where some fishermen were waiting to see how we would pass. The fishermen rolled up their pant legs and waded through and Chris and I followed suit. At this point it should be noted that Chris and I were geeking out and feeling pretty cool about having just portaged our bikes across water in the woods (yet still not a ripple in the bicep). We dried ourselves out and got back to it, finding a road only moments later that led us around First Lake. At this point, we knew where we were and Chris and I figured we'd have about an hour left of biking. We made our way around First Lake and onto the main road. We put our bikes into our highest gear and started to push ourselves to see if we could find Chuck. Then Chris' cell phone rang.

No Way! It's Chuck! Knowing that our friend was safe, Chris and I decided to hurry back to the cars and then grab Chris's truck to go get Chuck. We pushed our legs as hard as we could and made our way back to Chuck's mom's house. We found Chuck, weathered but still in one piece, and made our way home.

Oh and before we went home, we got a plate of guilt free french fries and had ourselves a good laugh.

I can't wait to go out with my friends again! (keep working on the bicep, my friend!)

Labour Pains, Part One

Sometimes the best stories come from the worst experiences. That was the case on Monday’s long run. I didn’t run nearly as far as I planned, but it was quite the noteworthy adventure. So noteworthy, in fact, that story will be told from three different perspectives. Clinton Charlton and Chris Fudge joined me on my run, and will offer their take on what ended up being a very trying day.

I mapped out an adventurous 22 mile run around the East Side that included sections of Golden Grove Road, Churchland Road, Loch Lomond Road, Barnsville Road, and Second Lake Road. The highlight of the run, I thought, was a seven kilometer stretch through the Sands Road, an old trail that connects Upper Golden Grove to Second Lake. The course was challenging (hill after hill for the first seven miles) but manageable, and despite some initial hesitations, I thought I was in for a great day.

The run began slowly as I pushed my way up the hills that give Upper Golden Grove its name. The boys struggled behind me, and I barely said a word to them for the first six kilometers. I didn’t mind; I was sorting through my thoughts and working out my mental kinks in the hopes of maintaining a positive focus. They caught up to me as we approached Sands Road, and together we entered the trail, or, as I called it at the time, “God’s country.”

Unfortunately, I hadn’t run the course in eight years, and in that time God had sold the trail to some terrible landowners. The rugged trails I once remembered were shredded to bits in some places, leaving mounds of rocks that were nearly impossible to navigate. The trail was so scarred from the elements that I was sure I was going in the wrong way. After a brief mental battle I turned around, apologized to the boys, and headed in a different direction.

The trail I picked was better groomed, and soon I was back in the rhythm and enjoying the scenery. Fall was already visiting the forest, and I was greeted by fallen leaves and rich colors. I ran down a long, winding hill, turned a corner, and ended up on a rocky beach with no trail to be found. Now I was lost, and at least fifteen minutes off course. I turned around (again), gave Clinton and Chris the bad news (again), headed back up the long, winding hill that I just ran down.

I eventually found my way back on course, but navigating the trail was a battle. The rocks were large and begging for a broken ankle, and in many places it was washed out, slowing my pace to a crawl as I danced around every hazard imaginable. My favorite sections were covered with giant puddles that filled every inch of flat ground. At first I tiptoed around them, but eventually I gave up and splashed through them, cursing with every step.

My dream trail was turning into a nightmare. My legs were fatigued from the relentless hills, and my ankles were sore from the countless twists and turns of the trail. The extra thirty minutes I tacked on the run didn’t help matters either. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, I emerged from the woods and back into civilization. The nightmare was over.

Sweaty, sore, and painfully chafed, I sat on the side of the road and waited for Chris and Clinton to emerge from the woods so I could change my shirt and get a drink of much needed water. I waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually, I gave up on waiting and jogged to the nearest house, hoping that whoever answered the door wouldn’t be startled by my sweaty appearance. Luckily, the woman who owned the house was quite friendly, and soon I was dialing Chris’ number, hoping he would answer.

Chris picked up the phone, and proceeds to tell me he is on the Loch Lomond Road and heading towards the airport. Apparently, there was a fork in the trail that I didn’t see. Chris and Clinton took a right where I went straight, and instead of meeting me, they ended up ten kilometers closer to home. We tried to figure out how to rectify the problem, but I was too frustrated to be of any help. I hung up the phone and continued on my way, cursing the day I planned this ‘fun’ run.

So now I am sore, sweaty, annoyed, and without any water. My mouth was dry, my lips were cracked, and I could feel a sunburn creeping into my face and shoulders. I stopped at a corner store, but had no cash for water, so I slurped greedily from the bathroom tap (don’t judge me). That sufficed for about ten minutes, but soon I was dry again, and desperate for water. I had no clue where Chris and Clinton were, but hoped they had left me something to drink somewhere on the route, because I was hurting.

And then it appeared like an oasis in the desert; a full bottle of water standing upright on the side of the road. I had encountered a few random bottles in my travels, but this was the first one that looked obviously placed. At least, that’s how I justified it when I unscrewed the cap and downed the bottle in one sitting. I made a mental note to chat with Chris and Clinton about the water when I finished my run, but I really didn’t care where the bottle came from. I was thirsty, so I drank.

Chris and Clinton ended my adventure about ten minutes later, showing up in Chris’ SUV just as I was closing in on the airport turnoff. I could have crawled home on foot, but at that point I had been running for two hours and forty five minutes and didn’t have much left in the tank. I climbed clumsily into the backseat and sucked back Gatorade as the boys had a good laugh at my expense. Not exactly the heroic ending I had in mind, but at least I was finished.

That’s it from me. Stay tuned for part two and three, starring Chris and Clinton!

Sunday Is Run Day

So I guess the Spruce Lake trail isn't as tranquil as I thought; my friends Marta Kelly and Brent Bethune used the trail as part of their Sunday long run and ran straight into a bear. No one was hurt, but the bear stood on its hind legs, giving me the impression that it wasn't too fond of strangers. I might have to check that run off my list until hibernation season.

My Sunday run, a 30K from my mother's house to Chris Fudge's house in Hampton, was bear free, but Chris and I encountered a fair share of unleashed dogs during our travels. Most dogs were intent on following us to the edge of their driveway, but one aggressive mutt ran out into the road with the intention of nibbling some ankles. Luckily, a very apologetic pet owner stopped the dog before he made a meal of me. It's probably good that the dog didn't get a taste; the salt content alone would have sent his blood pressure through the roof.

Why the salt, you ask? Well, it was another sweaty scorcher, hovering around 30 degrees when I left my mothers house at 3:30PM. Luckily a cool wind provided some relief, as did a steadily falling thermometer throughout the run. That being said, it was still mighty hot, so I adjusted my pace accordingly.

It took about 10k to kick the run into full gear. I stayed up late the previous two nights (back to back gigs with Penny Blacks), and hadn't eaten as well as I usually do, which I think made a difference. However, the scenery was enough to keep me distracted, and I floated easily for most of the run. Knowing the area helped, as it allowed me to break the distance into short, manageable sections. In less than two hours, I was just outside of Hampton, and feeling great.

That feeling didn't last long. As soon as I hit Main Street my quads started seizing up, and my pace faltered. However, I was able to maintain my focus for the last 8 kilometers, and chugged steadily away, even taking a detour to ensure a 30K+ run. I hit Chris' driveway in 2:52 flat, and celebrated the day's activities with a frosty beverage and a couple of well deserved burgers. Pass the ketchup, please.

Next up is some more speed work. Not sure what I have planned, but I intend on moving relatively quick. I'll add some photos for your enjoyment shortly.

Stupid hot Saturdays

I am not a hot weather runner. Every degree past 15 makes me increasingly uncomfortable, and I might as well stay home if it pushes past 25. All of my worst races took place in the heat of summer, including one disastrous marathon that ended with heat stroke, so I usually try to take it easy around July and August.

That being said, I can't turn down a rave run, so when Chris Fudge asked me to join him for part of a 50k bike ride, I couldn't refuse. My portion, approximately 27k total, included 2 ferry rides, and some beautiful views of both the Kennebecasis and Saint John rivers. With that sort of scenery, how hard could it be?

Well, it wasn't exactly a walk in the park. The first 11k, the distance from my house to the Romeo and Juliet ferry, was fine, but I was panting for water about 4 miles in. I made a quick stop at the Millidgeville for some Gatorade, and had it finished off before I made my trip across the river. Chris and I had a scheduled out rendez vous for about an hour into my run, and I was hoping he would show up with more water and nourishment before I overheated.

It almost happened. I showed up at our destination point with only a mouthful of water left (many thanks to Tom and Brenda for the bottle of water on the ferry!) and the sun beating down on me. Fudge was nowhere in sight, so I sat on a lawn, stretched my weary limbs, and waited. He arrived fifteen minutes later, late on account of unexpected hills. Since Fudge planned the route, I wondered how many more hidden hills we would encounter.

I should have known the answer the moment I stepped off the ferry and was met with a terrible, steep hill. The roads leveled off for a bit, but after a few kilometers the hills returned with a vengeance, slowing me to a crawl on several occasions. At one point, after we were met with yet another brutal climb, I turned to Chris, gave him a dirty look, and yelled, "This is WEAK." I ran away before he could respond, but I bet he was pleased with himself for torturing me.

Luckily, the run came to a finish before Chris and I killed each other. I started picking up speed on the last downhill, and finished as strong as I could considering the circumstances. It took about 15 minutes longer than planned, but I made it through in one piece. Legs beaten to a pulp from the hills, yes, but in one piece.

My next long run with Chris takes place on Thursday. I think I'll approve the route prior to running it.