Off Trail, Part 1: Chicken Karma

"When I do not walk in the clouds I walk as though I were lost."~Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943, translated from Spanish by W.S. Merwin

So here is how I was humbled by the mountains, earned my first DNF (Did Not Finish), and felt okay with it all...

At approximately mile two of this 20k trail run, I was running and feeling very well (thank you), while continuing to maintain a comfortable position within a pack other folks running through the mud, leaves, and creeks. One thing that is easy to forget is that when one is trail running, as beautiful as the immediate surroundings may be at any given time, it is very difficult to take the time to check it out, and stay focused enough so as to avoid a serious fall. I worked hard to stay focused on those folks directly ahead of me and their footstrikes, thereby hoping to make any mis-steps of my own.

At about mile three-ish(?) the young lady who had been running in front of me for a mile or so introduced herself as Cassandra, so I returned the courtesy by giving my "name-rank-serial number": local yokel, recreational runner, did this race two years ago. As a primarily solitary sort it was nice to have someone with whom to converse on the trail, especially someone who so clearly knew what she was doing.

Unfortunately for her, Cassandra had assumed that I too knew what I was doing, and as someone visiting the area from Manhattan solely with the purpose of running in a race she "had to really work hard to get into", and so unfamiliar with the course, she (as it turns out, incorrectly) figured that I knew my way around the course. I had after all, finished the same race just two short years ago. How different could it be? Well, apparently, very.

Along with a few runners a short distance ahead and behind, we stayed on the path through at least mile 7. How do I know this? I think that the second hydration station, and as it turns out, a checkpoint for runners was right around mile 6. Also, just past the aforementioned hydration station was the "legendary" Goose Racing chicken excitedly cheering us as came into a clearing following a long incline--with some fresh disco-esque tunes to keep us jazzed. After giving the chicken a high five, I told him(her?) "you the chicken!" and reminded Cassandra that I always prop the volunteers just to keep my karma in check.

Checking my watch, I proudly recognized that I was well on track to PR in this race... not the distance, mind you, but that I would better my previous finishing time of two years ago. Quickly adding numbers and recalling who we had passed and who had also passed us, I suggested to Cassandra that she was likely still very much in the running to place in the race.

"No, I don't think so," she said humbly responded, "but, wouldn't it be funny if I came in third?"

"How so?" I asked trying not to let my speech seem as labored as it was. I was not used to talking while running, let alone at such as brisk pace.

"A few weeks ago I placed first at one race and two weeks ago I came in second..." her voice trailed off as the pattern became clear.

"Impressive," was all I could say. She was a committed athlete who trained with the intention of racing well, a concept I had not bought into for myself as a self-professed "recreational runner" who would occasionally fumble into placing.

Unbeknownst to moi, the "Mile 7" sign we had recently passed was the last distance marker I would see this race... from here on out it was into the unknown....To be Continued

Breathe in, breathe out… YOU AND I ARE ALIVE!