Last Night on The Mountain

I haven’t run in 10 days.  On my last run I pulled a groin/quad muscle and wanted to let it heal. 3 days turned into 10. 

Crap.

Last night we were at my Brother-In-Laws house eating enchilada’s when my Sister-In-Law called. She wanted me to go running with her. This is very unexpected. Our relationship hasn’t been the best for about 2 years. Before that, since the day I was married, we were very close. It’s one of those uncomplicated, complicated kind of things. (which makes no sense, i know) So I’m hesitant.

But I NEED to run.

She starts explaining how she wants to go run the Power Line Trail at the base of Ben Lomond Peak.  This is about 1.5 miles above our houses. Approximatly 70* straight up the freaking mountain.  I am nervous. No. I am afraid.

We decide to drive up the first mile and start from there.  I thought my heart and lungs were going to explode at the top of that first .5 mile.  From there it turns east and follows the base of the mountain which is a cove shape.  Down 100 feet, up 100 feet, down 100 feet, up 200 feet. Over and over and over again.  My legs where on fire!

We stopped at a high point to catch our breath, the GPS said 1.27 miles. It lies. We laughed at how impossible that must be. And we were off again. We are flying down the trail, jumping over rocks, dodging mud, straddling the water that had decided to make this trail it’s new path and doing our best not to fall flat on our faces.

All the while we are talking and laughing. And I have several thoughts…

1. I can run and talk at the same time.  I am freaking amazing.
2. It is so great to talk to my friend again. I have missed her.
3. Oh shit, I have to go back up this hill I am flying down.

Then suddenly we realize how dark it is getting. At 1.75 miles we turn around and do our best to Haul Ass back up the hill in the dark, thick with trees, on a mud covered mountain trail.  We didn’t make great time. Lesson learned, bring headlamp!

There was no more talking, just running and breathing and trying to see through the dark with my watering eyes.  There is a huge breathtaking mountain on my right, and to my left are twinkling city lights and the last bits of orange sun settling over a gorgeous reflective lake and behind the distant mountains.

My head is clear, so clear.

I hear the river, the wind in the trees, the sound of our feet hitting the trail, below the faint sound of children laughing on a beautiful summer night. My heavy legs and heaving chest are hardly noticeable to my conscience.

At one point I yell to Natalie to ‘Shut the Hell Up’ as she yells ‘Last Hill’ for the 5th time. And then we actually reach the top of the last hill and stop to catch our breath before the last half mile of straight down.

It is euphoric to be so high above the city at night, surrounded by trees, stars and the dark night sky. Our houses, husbands, children, jobs, and stresses are somewhere a mile below us  but right now we can’t even see the car.  I am tired but I want to stay in this moment longer.

Sometimes, a lot of times, running sucks. The hard work, heat, injury, long and short miles, time, sacrifice, and mental challenge suck. 

But then unexpectedly the payoff is huge and running Is Incredible.

Practically Indescribable.

Life began to make sense.

A Realtionship started to heal.

My heart was full .

I realized how full of frustration I have been over not being able to lose one single pound in the last 5 months. My mind was so set on this one goal, the only goal that meant anything or so I told myself. I didn’t allow myself to see all that I had accomplished. 

Look at what my body just did! 

I just ran across a mountain! A Freaking Mountain! Last year I would have barely walked that trail.

Don’t miss the Journey.

Be Patient with Yourself.

Allow yourself to Celebrate and Feel Your Victories.

My next run might suck again and that’s OK.

Next week when I am climbing 7.4 miles up a mountain in the mud and 8 hours later 4.2 miles through a small town in the dead of night and 8 hours later 3 miles in the heat of the hills outside Park City I will remember this run.  I will want to stop, I  might cry, I’ll probably hurt and I guarantee I will swear like a trucker but I will do it.

Because I Can.