Recovery Crashes and Mucking the Run

It's been a week since my first 50 mile race at Winona Lake.  I'd predicted that the pain level and recovery time would be slightly greater than a half-Ironman but not as much as a full, and that seems about right.  The first day after the race, stairs brought knee crunching pain and my IT band was crying.  I spent most of the day in the la-z-boy with a cup of coffee, listening to the latest Bright Eyes and Wilco records, writing my race report, and reading.  Is this what retirement is like?  I sure hope so.

I took Sunday and Monday off, and on Tuesday I commuted to work on my bike.  That evening I was running trails again, nice and easy around the river.  Next morning I woke up with a bit of soreness probably from overdoing it the night before, so I ran in the evening, and this was a fantastic run on my local loop.  My legs were sprightly and ready to rock.  Lazy bugs hung in swarms over the trails and it felt like summer.  I used other runners on the trail as rabbits and caught them without redlining it.  Climbing and descending felt good and I couldn't stop smiling.  The next night at The Arb, I did more hills, but the humidity and some dehydration caught up with me on the tail end of this 8 mile run.  Still, an hour run without soreness this soon after the race was a good sign.

And then came glorious Friday, my day off since I work the weekend.  Rain threatened but didn't look likely until later afternoon, so I drove out to the Potawatomi trail in Pinckney, MI with my mountain bike and running shoes for a brick workout (a bike ride followed immediately by a run).  Next weekend I'm doing a 50k race on the Poto called the Trail Marathon, so I wanted to get some extra time on this absolute gem of an 18+ mile trail system just 20 minutes from my house.

The Poto is something I will definitely miss when me move from Michigan.  If I could run this trail every day I would.  All single track with some wider openings, gorgeous lakes surrounding, hills, rocks, roots, sand, and luscious green in spring.  Aside from the roving gangs of deerflies in the summer, it's near perfect.

Normally on a day off like this I would've run 2-3 hours on the trail, but my brain told me that was dumb since my muscles and tendons are still recovering, so I hopped on my MTB to try out my new Crank Bros Egg Beater pedals, which marks the first time I've ever ridden trails with clipless pedals.  The difference was amazing.  I had so much more power on the climbs, stability on the descents since my feet weren't bouncing all over the flat pedals, and confidence in turning.

It was a perfect day: mid-50s, light breeze, all the world before me.  I saw one group of runners and no other bikers out there and man does this place start feeling "out there" when you're alone for hours with only the squirrels, deer, birds, and a wild turkey the size of my bike for company.  It's an aloneness that I value as it invites introspection and clarity of mind.

For example, I realized how important it is to me to have a good biking and running fitness at any given time even if there's no race ahead, so that I can do something like ride at a hard effort in the woods for 2 hours and then run afterward without this effort crushing me.  Basically, so I can do this stuff for fun on a whim without a training plan.  I also realized that taking on big endurance goals like running 100 miles in Leadville is critical for me to attaining a sustained feeling of contentment.

And it was just as I had reached the hour mark and the endorphins were kicking in and I was getting this sense of elation that I had my first and only crash.  It was a thing of beauty.  I chose a bad line up a steep incline that switched back, so I didn't see the big root with the gap and though I tried mightily to jump it, I was quickly on my back, cushioned by my Ultimate Direction Wasp hydration pack, which somehow didn't explode like a water balloon all over me.

After the ride, it was just starting to sprinkle, so I tossed the bike in the back of the Element and threw on my running shoes.  I hit the Losee Lake trail, which is for hiking/running only and it's super hilly.  It features very dense woods and a shoestring trail and there was no one else out there.  As the sprinkle turned into a downpour and clouds pitched over I felt a big smile coming on.  The smell of mud came up from the ground and the birds went silent.

Running in the woods in the rain brings such a heightened state of sensation, as the cold water hits hot skin, the surface of the trail is dark and slick, and the forest air takes on a mist that is just this side of magical.  It was the perfect way to end a superb day off.