Reflections on Week #5

As we drove into the Cascades on Sunday morning for my long run of the week, I was telling my husband about an article I read that morning on Slate. It featured Jill Fredston, an avalanche expert, who discussed how tragedy in the mountains arises when humans make decisions based on their own wants and needs instead of on nature's terms. The mountain does not care that you are an amazing skier, or that you plan to meet your group for lunch at 1 pm. But it does care when avalanche conditions are met, so take note and make decisions accordingly. You will fare much better when working with nature instead of against it.

While I never faced the danger of an avalanche during the several hours we spent in the mountains, this article came to mind several times as my blunders quickly piled up.

The plan was simple: My husband would drop me off 10 miles up the trail from the finish line of my marathon. He would then drive down to the end of the trail, bike up to meet me, and we would continue down to the car together.

My first mistake was immediately apparent when my husband pulled away and instead of beginning my run on a railroad-grade packed gravel path down the mountain, I found myself on a steep 2-mile hike up Twin Falls.

Beautiful, right? But unlike the smiling young families, groups of friends, and older couples slowly weaving their way up to catch a glimpse of the falls, I was hardly registering the scenery. The only thought my brain could process was WHY AM I HIKING UP A MOUNTAIN RIGHT NOW?

I had no idea if this hike would eventually connect with my marathon route, and if you've ever tried to use the Google maps app in the mountains, you will understand its limited effectiveness in answering this question. I texted both my husband and my coach for navigation help. As I was about to dejectedly turn around and head back to my starting point in crushing defeat, I found myself on a trail that my coach (correctly) predicted would lead me to the packed gravel path I was seeking.

When you are preparing for a marathon, there is one piece of advice that remains consistent among training methods: Don't skip the long runs, these are absolutely vital. As I was hiking up a mountain and then treading slowly and carefully on slippery ice, the Type A in me was panicking – I was 2 miles in and although my heart rate was high, I was not hitting my target pace whatsoever.

The mountain doesn't care about your target pace, I reminded myself. It doesn't care about your marathon training plan or that your husband is looking for you. Work with the mountain instead of against it, and you will fare better.

I would like to tell you that it helped to calm me. But I was still a mess.

After I had finally joined the correct trail and descended below the slush and ice, I did get in a few miles of running. The weather was unbelievably perfect and I was starting to relax. It's hard not to gain perspective on the impermanence of our problems when surrounded by these rugged, lofty mountains.

Until the path abruptly stopped.

But I had not reached the end of the marathon route.

I had missed a turn-off somehow.

And I was lost.

Again.

I sent more @&$% messages to my husband about my latest screw-up on this ridiculous day. As I turned around and began to look for a split off this path, I decided to try a new mental tactic seeing as the avalanche expert's advice just wasn't working for me. Channel your inner Hannah, I told myself, referring to my unflappable sister-in-law. While I spend much of my life trying to prevent things from going wrong, Hannah accepts the inevitability of encountering problems and simply enjoys the adventure of solving them. Channel your inner Hannah, she would be having a blast.

I would like to tell you that it helped to calm me. But I was still a mess.

I found a path leading down to a trailhead filled with cars and eager hikers, and I felt some relief. My watch said I was 7 miles into this debacle, and although I would be cutting my long "run" short by 3 miles, it was time to call my husband with my location so he could retrieve me and take me home. I needed a bath, I needed my Jamba Juice, I needed to be done.

I needed... more bars on my phone.

My texts would not go through. I could call him but only to leave a voicemail that would not reach him anytime soon.

I had no idea what to do at that point, my brain was sputtering to a stop. There were plenty of other people around, like the group of 20-somethings resting on a log bench nearby and laughing loudly as they recounted their hike. But what do I say? Hi, I'm a grown adult lost in this busy parking lot. Can you help? I couldn't really explain this situation to myself, much less to someone else.

Jill Fredson would no doubt describe a mountain as unforgiving, but at that moment, I am happy to say that this mountain provided.

I heard my husband's voice behind me.

Somehow, I had ended up in the right place, and he found me while biking the trail.

At that point, we were 5 miles from the end of the marathon route where the car was parked. I summoned all of my determination and decided that dammit, I was going to finish my 10 miles.

I ran for 3 more miles with my husband trailing slowly behind me on his bike until my watch beeped that I had hit my goal, and he and I walked together for the last 2 miles.

Looking back, I can tell myself logically that I showed strength and perseverance that day. I didn't give up when I was tired and frustrated with my own mistakes. If training for a marathon were easy, it wouldn't be an accomplishment. But even though I can recognize that as truth, it's much harder to accept and apply to myself. Pushing through 26.2 miles is as much physical as it is mental, and with 15 weeks to go until my race, I clearly have work to do on both accounts.

I'll be heading back to the mountain in another couple weeks, and I am hoping for a slightly less stressful experience. I wonder what Hannah's doing that day...

Mileage for week 5: 20 miles

Total mileage: 87.5 miles

Days until marathon: 102 days