Once Cassandra, the young lady with whom I had been running for the five miles leading up to this point, went on her way, to what I was sure was some sort of success, I decide for myself that, though my PR was now an unlikelihood, I would forge forward and at least attempt to finish strong. I didn't want to quit. Had I (or we for that matter) been anywhere near the finish, or even on the coures, both measures of success were well within reach. Unfortunately, I had no idea (yet) how lost I was, and in my effort to find a trail back onto the correct path, I fear I only made matters worse.
The last bit of advice Cassandra had for me as she disappeared up the path was to "follow the red flashes." This I attempted to do, but with little luck, and much less of the fervor that I set out with (now) over two hours ago.
The mileage continued to increase and the trees drew closer as the canopy above thickened. It was good fortune that it was only April, so at least there was some sunlight to follow. The flashes, however, became much less easy to detect. Trotting through the brush and mud, the red flashes I had at first invested so much faith in failed with more and more consistency. Flashes which earlier blared "RED" to me, now seemed maybe a deep shade of orange. Maybe they weren't even paint, but old red leaves. Fresher Brown flashes covered older red one. It all began to feel like I was attemtping to decipher Greek using a Spanish alphabet.
Though I had gladly shared the water and gel earlier in the run, I now regretted not conserving a little for these unforeseen moments. My legs continued to move, but my concentration began to wander--I was alternately cold, then warm, but unable to sweat. Running my hand over the back of my neck, I could feel the salt from where I had earlier been wet under the eighty-six degree sun, now peaking down on me only intermittently.
As my energy waned, my line of vision dropped from twenty feet ahead of me to ten, and finally I was sitting against a downed tree, feeling the moss growing on its severed bark, my eyes dropped to the trail I has just paused along. The garter snakes that moved just beneath the leaves would have startled me silly only hours ago, but now I could not muster the energy to be senslessly concenred. I felt only frustration and then anger... "AHHHHHHHHHHH!""AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
I yelled at the top of my lungs fully aware of the waste of breathe and energy I employed in doing so. Having momemtarily releaesed the agitation which had been building inside over the past twenty-minutes of running, I listened from my tree stump intently hoping to hear a motor (car? dirtbike?) or voice. A feeling of discouragement began to settle over me as I fully realized the scope of my situation. Not only was I not on the race course, and I was not simply slightly deterred from my intended path, but rather really, really, lost, and severely off trail...To be Continued
Breathe in, breathe out… YOU AND I ARE ALIVE!
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