After passing the “Mile 7” marker, we proceeded through the trails, chiefly by following what we believed to be the correct trail flashes: red. One on the branch to the right, two red slashes on a downed tree denoting a turn... and so on. We remained within the same High Tor “mountain,” eventually following the trail down along a rushing stream--one whose cool waters prompted the thought that “maybe we should stop and dive in!” Cassandra even suggested that perhaps this was part of the course, an attempt to suggest to hot trail runners that it was time for a break...Choosing to stay on course, the present trail took us near a paved two-lane road seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Although I knew that towards the latter half of the race we would indeed go close to a road, I had no previous recollection of needing to cross the road. Cassandra suggested, by looking at the flashes that continued across the paved street, that we need follow them to a second, longer road, which then ran along a small cemetery. I was unsure of this direction, but no less sure of my own remembrance of the trail from two years ago.
It was this decision, I would only much later surmise, that began the chain of events wherein things went wa-a-ay off track.
Following our speedy crossing of the road, I recognized that the heat had begun to become a much more significant factor and that I would need to lose the cotton tee that I had been wearing over a more sensible, breathable training shirt. Having been running for a few years, I was aware of the potential dangers of wearing cotton, but until this point, had avoided the subconscious understanding that “cotton kills,” in favor of the karmic mojo I had hoped to bring upon myself by wearing a (previously) good luck charm and (as my wife had earlier noted) the same exact shirt I had worn on a much cooler run two years ago. I quickly pulled the shirt from around my neck, and deposited it on a metal roadside barrier, fully intending that--if we were where I though maybe, just maybe, were I though--I would pick it up on my way home. I might have sensed a contrary vibe that this wouldn't be, but attempted to maintain pace with my trail partner, who had pulled ahead up a steady, paved, incline.
Cassandra then noted that the words “5k” spray painted in red on the road. (Thinking back now, it was probably much too worn to be recent.) With no recollection of my past experiences, Cassandra’s suggestion that maybe this was an indication as to how much of the race was left, made sense. At this point there were no other runners in view either ahead of, or behind us. Given the time we had run and the predicted distance yet to be covered, the fact that we might be 3.1 miles from finishing up made sense.
I was, of course, mistaken.
We then followed the road (and flashes until a point where we re-entered an off-road trail, assuming we were rejoining the same mountainous path we had left to cross the street. The trail continued up and at this point we began to wonder what had happened to the hydration station which we had been expecting. Fortunately, I had been prepared with a single plastic flask of water which I shared on the run as we made our way up a path which winded beside a five-foot wire fence... something I had not remembered. It was at this point that it became clear to me that we were off the trail, but regaining some position in the race seems plausible.
We had no idea just how far way from where we needed to be we were. Given our situation, the last thing one might suggest we do is separate, which, of course, is exactly what we did. I was clearly in much poorer shape than Cassandra and as we found a sharp uphill, she began to build speed and momentum, while my own pace began to fade. "Go on ahead, I'll see you at the finish, " I yelled (I think, being tired it could have been more of an extended audible gasp...) and she took off out of sight.
At this point we had been running for nearly two hours, the time I had predicted at worst I would have finished, and the end seemed no nearer.
I would spend the next hour-and-a-half alone, the majority of it lost in the woods...To be Continued
Breathe in, breathe out… YOU AND I ARE ALIVE!
No comments:
Post a Comment