The (Rain-free) Tyler Arboretum 10k

I told my dentist on Friday about my plans to run this race. She told me it was supposed to rain. I believed her, and every weather forecast that I could find forecast showers.

To my surprise this morning the rising sun lit up the city beneath a blue sky. I arrived in Media at the Tyler Arboretum and it was already warming up, close to 55. Perfect. I had some time to kill before the race started so I warmed up on the paved trails through the arboretum and ventured onto the unpaved ones a little too. Apparently still feeling the effects of Wednesday's hill workout, my slightly heavy legs made me apprehensive about the race to come. This would be my first trail race and I didn't really know what to expect. I knew there would be 4 stream crossings, but this was the extent of my knowledge of the course.

I stretched for a good amount of time before lining up with roughly 150 other runners. The announcer explained that the course consisted of numerous loops and out-and-back segments that turned upon themselves, and that the mile markers were approximate. No guns, flags, or cannons. Just a barely audible ready, set, go.

I'm at the tail end of a line of 20 or so runners moving at a pretty good clip. I'm feeling really good, and so far the terrain is manageable. Some mud and tree roots are the only major impediments. Here comes a hill. I bound up, passing a few runners. Wow, that's steep. I catch my breath at the top and realize I've slowed a bit. A runner I passed a moment ago now chugs by me, probably well aware when I passed that he'd see me again. I continue to push, now downhill, I'm flying and mile one passes in 6:08. This is a jackrabbit start, and I'm about to meet the bloodhounds.

Just past the one mile marker the line of runners has thinned to a group of 3 or 4, with 10 yards or so between us. Here comes a stream, SPLASH! Not really thinking about it I step in with my right foot instead of trying to leap over it. Now I've got a 2-pound ankle weight on. This feels weird, my shoe is all squishy.

The stream is in a valley, now it's time to climb the other side. I'm huffing and puffing, and this hill is long. Man, why is this so hard? I feel like I did a few days ago during my hill workout. Halfway up this one I'm forced to slow down even more. Just keep moving, you'll catch your breath. No, don't stop, don't stop!

I'm walking, and cursing myself and this hill. Damn!

It takes me 30 seconds or so to snap out of it, and in that time a few more runners I'd passed are ahead of me again, working steady. A whole lot is going on in my head at this point, and I even wonder if I'll DNF. Evil thoughts about going out too fast, worrying about injury, STOP! Shake it out! I get moving again, crest this damn hill, and it now has sunk in that it's gonna take a different strategy to get me through the next 4 miles. I try to focus on saving my surges for the crests and flats. This works. One of the guys that passed me is within view, I slowly creep up behind him. I hear a course marshal yell his name, Chris, and he's evidently the first runner from the Wissahickon Wanderer's club to pass this point. I stay close behind him, and we work through the next 2 miles or so. Now the lead female is within sight. I stay behind Chris, he's working hard too, keeps looking over his shoulder. We've been through 2 more streams at this point, both my shoes are soaked, but at the third crossing I'm smart enough to leap across on some stones. Still surging on the flats. Almost lose my footing a few times on downhills, which are blistering. Careful, I don't want any broken bones today.

With 2 miles to go, Chris slows on an uphill, and this time I know I've gotta keep moving. I pass him, work slowly closer to the lead female. Once I catch her, I keep a safe distance, working up and down the terrain. She sets the pace, I follow. At a certain point I'm thinking I want this to be over, and soon. The uphills are extremely slow, but it's really all I can give, legs burning.

The trail dips suddenly downward, and I almost lose my balance, damn it's hard to be conservative on these drops. I'm glad it's dirt and not pavement. The final uphill is long. The runner ahead of me slows, I skirt around her. We're in mile 6, so I push a little more. Trying to maintain this push once I crest the hill must look pretty funny to some photographers along the side. Arms flailing, mud flinging off my shoes, I'm actually not even going that fast, but it feels like it, and I'm fighting for air. Loop back to the starting stretch and the final .2 miles is through the soggy grass yard behind a barn. I enter the chute in 45:30. Half a mile more and I'd be puking. I grab some drink, cool off with a slow jog. For the day, I'll call it 8 miles in 60 minutes.