Running Like a Girl

Yesterday, rain nipped my plan to join Kate for 14-mile jaunt...the downpour continued most of the day. With time constraints, and a hectic day planned, I squeezed in nothing more than a ripping 2 miles on a treadmill. Hey, at least it was a fast 2 miles...

Today was supposed to be more of the same. But the gods of running and football granted us a clear, cool-ish morning.

Brenda picked me up at 7:30, and we were off to Carlisle, MA, for the Montrail Run Like a Girl 8K--about five miles, in case you'd rather not do the math (4.97, to be exact). Over the river, and through the woods, up and down some short, steep hills we ran, tripping through rooted, rocky areas, sliding occasionally in the mud...and for me at least, loving every minute.
There is something about the way my body reacts to trail running that is sheerly euphoric. I am fatigued, out of breath, concentrating mightily on every step, careful not to trip, slide, roll, or fall, dodging rocks, roots, and once, a fallen tree. There is something about running in these conditions, the lingering smell of rain clinging to the trees, that makes me feel alert and alive, like my body is a thrumming, living, breathing machine--that I am strong, and agile, like a gazelle loping along a wide plain in long-legged strides, or a huntress after prey.

We finished a very tough course in a thoroughly respectable 48:50. With my grace 5 seconds (we started behind the finish line), that puts us at a 9:48 split.

Pretty damn good for a tough, hilly trail course. I'll take it at least. :)