Running in the Dark

Jax and I hit our standard loop on the Green Mountain Stock Farm trails.  Just 3 miles, but pretty nasty terrain.  Lots of wet, swampy areas, very narrow single-track, often overgrown, and lots of deadfall to pick around.  Several big, steep hills are there just to keep it from getting boring.

3 days since my last run and I was itching to get out.  So despite the fact that it was dark and raining, out the door we went.  It's funny ... maybe scary ... that things like this don't surprise my wife anymore.  Dark night.  Like Sarah Palin's soul kind of dark.  And raining.  Ultimately, however, it was the most fun I've had in a long time without intoxicants or nudity.  *shrug*

This loop is old hat in the daytime.  It typically takes Jax just once over to memorize a trail, so this is dialed.  The darkness didn't seem to make the slightest bit of difference .  I haven't done a night run on trails for maybe 7-8 years, and never with a dog.  Tonight was an entirely different run than I've experienced, and a great deal more fun than expected.

Night runs on the trail are slow ... usually.  There's the constant effort to avoid tripping and the subsequent wrist and facial bone fractures.  Then there's navigation.  In the woods, in the dark, the world melts.  Nothing looks the same.  Distances feel different.  Self-doubt whispers between trees.  It's not difficult to understand, as missing a turn-off in the deep woods at night has a fairly obvious downside.  So these runs creep along at the speed in which we second-guess ourselves.  Not tonight.  Tonight we finished just 3 minutes behind our personal best.

Within 100 meters of starting off, my faithful sidekick had everything under control.  He stayed about 3-5 meters in front of me, minus the occasional dash into the underbrush to investigate the incredibly compelling and mysterious things dogs are want to find in the forest.  And of course, he must piss on everything.  For my part, I simply kept my headlamp trained behind him and tried to keep up.  Paying almost no attention to navigation, I let him lead.  It's difficult to describe the sensation.  Our route has more than a dozen turn-offs over the three miles and is rather complex.  Running it blind is like driving a sports car too fast on mountain roads ... really fun, if perhaps a bit unsafe.  We bombed through deep woods in the rain and dark, and I actually found myself laughing out loud periodically.  How had I forgotten these kinds of joys?  How had I lost sight of myself so badly for so long?  Almost a decade now ...

So obviously, things are going well with the running.  I don't know why.  I've changed a lot of things.  Minimalist shoes, largely vegetarian diet, Udo's oil, compression sleeves on my calves, glucosamine ... too many variables.  But it's working.  Lots to think about and maybe tinker with ...