Funky Adventure and Ruminations on 'The Heart Meter'

As T-Clog embarks upon an heroic exercise program that will allow him to complete a 5k trail run in late September, so I continue on one of my own. Due to the new lease on my own fitness life brought about by my introduction to cross training via cardio-machines at my workplace's fitness center, combined with a gel band I have to add structural stability to my runner's knee, I am finding it increasingly comfortable and exhilerating to get out on the trails for running, my true exercise love.

Yesterday, at the tail end of a 5-day vacation stint with my family, I was granted a couple of hours to have some "Dan time," and I elected to head out to French Regional Park, home of "Challenge Hill" (which should really be plural - think of the hill at Afton. Maybe about half the height, but repeated about four or five times). It was a muggy 86 degrees and I had water belt hitched up, along with a plan that would have me swing by a fountain at a picnic area after a half hour for a refill.

Well, things felt great at first and I went out a little fast, but the hills kicked my ass a bit. And made me ruminate, thus: A runner is like a character in a Nintendo game. You have a little set of hearts in the upper right corner of your screen that are all filled red. Very slowly (or quickly, depending on your level of fitness), your heart meter will begin to inch it's way down, just by virtue of cruising along at a constant speed.. However, there are many things that you can do that will knock a few points of that heart meter instantly, such as sprinting, jumping over a log, or running up a hill. If you're in decent shape, once you crest a hill - even one that was making your thighs scream for mercy - the five or six hearts you suddenly lost will begin to fill back in slowly, so that, after a while more of relatively level surface running, you'll feel like you didn't miss a beat. You did, though. Replenished though you may feel, that hill has taken a toll on you and those hearts are not truly back up to where they were before you started up. Over time, the hills add up. I've learned this through a lifetime of running, but never was it so driven home to me than at the Afton Trail Run 25K, which I've done twice. Both times, though I was fully capable of running the distance on roads, I ended up with cramps at about mile 12 (probably about 20-21k). Those hills'll kill you.

Just something to keep in mind, T-Clog. I don't remember the terrain & trails at Eagle Bluff, but based on the part of the state it's in, I have no doubt it's extremely hilly. If we come across a hill that's batshit insane, there's no honor lost in walking it.

Now - the funky adventure. I'd run for about forty minutes before making it to the drinking fountain for a fill up and check of my watch. I had a little bit of an upset stomach, so decided to cut my original plan (1 hr, 10 min) down a bit; I'd do one more little loop. However, just after starting down the new trail, I realized my stomach was really fairly sloshy - something bad was potentially brewing, and I thought it best to just call it a day. I turned around and headed back to the visitors' center. There was something in the trail in front of me - "wait -that looks like a mound of wadded up newspaper - oh SHIT (just as I began to leap over) BALD FACED HORNET NEST!!!" I was immediately set upon by about three of the little fuckers. I gave a scream and tore off at a quick pace, trying to remember my old nature readings: "How fast can a hornet fly? 10 mph? Can I run that fast? " Well, either I can run that fast, or they had nothing more to prove, cause they let me go. Exhausted, queasy, and stinging.

I headed back to the car and checked the pound on my water belt to get the key for the car. Key gone. double shit. I retraced my steps back up to the picnic area water fountain (where I'd gotten out my watch and where, presumably, the key had tumbled out). Nothing. Going through the whole area with a fine-toothed comb. Nothing. Back to the visitors' center for a call to Sharon. Not there. Triple shit. Left a message: "If you get this message, come and pick me up. I'll be on the way home." And - what could I do - I started running home, along Rockford Rd (Country Rd 9/42nd Ave). And, proving what a man can do (particularly, the King of Men) when he really has to, I'd made about three miles (about two of which were up a ridiculously long incline) before the little Toyota Corolla with all my girls came cruising up alongside and offered me a ride.

Last night was a night of rehydration and moving in slow motion.