The last two Saturdays, I’ve spent better than five total hours on the trail. These runs has different goals, different preparations, and predictably, different results.
Saturday, April 28, I left the house at 7:30AM, and by 8:10 I was on the trails at Afton State Park. My goal for the day was a 15+ mile progression run. I’d run the first five miles easy, the second at 50k to Marathon effort, and the final five plus mile at 25k to half marathon effort. My ultimate goal was to actually run the loop as fast as I ever have (2:12 and change). With that in mind, I’d slept well, eaten a good, but not huge, breakfast, and had fresh legs after a relatively low-mileage week.
The first five felt predictably slow. But that allowed me to really notice all the sounds around me. It was fully spring in Minnesota (finally), and the chorus of birds was truly amazing. I heard the trill of robins, the call of jays, the caw from crows and croaks of the ravens, and even the honking of a trumpeter swan flying overhead. It was almost a cacophony.
All too quickly, I hit five miles in just a little over 45 minutes, and kicked it up a notch. This section took me down a short technical section, uphill on a dirt road, down again and along the river, and back up into the campground, all at a quick pace (but not punishing).
Along the river, I noticed the first pelican. It was simply swimming upriver by itself, looking like a sailboat, even with its bulbous bill (beak?). The “v” of its wake stretched out behind it, and I saw another.
And another.
I didn’t think much of it. I figured that a small flock of them had paused mid-migration to take a break.
I headed back up and into the birdsong again, reveling in it as I took the climb to the campground at a run. I couldn’t help but grin: I had picked up the pace more than I thought possible, and it was easy enough that I could still enjoy the spring weather.
I clocked the second five miles at 8:20 pace.
Through the campground, and down to the river again.
And more pelicans. One after another. They kept coming. Swimming upstream. I clocked sub-seven miles on the old railway bed along the St. Croix river, but I must have seen 50 or more pelicans (one of which had a fish in its beak).
Up the meat grinder, and into the single track of the snowshoe loop, I knew I was slower than the second five-mile section. Even so, the effort was higher. I averaged 8:36 for the last part, including the single track and the last hill.
All in all, the workout went exactly as I had hoped.
The next week, I had a different plan. I wanted to mimic, as much as possible, the afternoon of my run on the Border Route Trail. I put in a full, difficult week of training beforehand: a 10k tempo at half marathon pace and two runs with surges, for one of my higher-volume weeks prior to the weekend. I went swimming in the morning, then headed out after lunch for a three plus hour run at Afton.
It was also 85 degrees and humid: by far the hottest day of the year.
From the first two steps I knew it was going to be a difficult run. I felt flat. My legs were tired (as expected). And of course, it was hot.
I had planned to fall into a 9/1 run/walk cycle, to try and mimic my plan for the BRT. I wanted to run easy, and walk fast. And I succeeded in that. But it was far hotter than I had planned for, and I went through water more quickly than I thought. 15 miles in, I ran out of water, at exactly the correct point, since I was near the water station.
I finished the run, though. At ten minute pace, which is still faster than I plan to run the Border Route.
I’ll be honest, as elated as I felt after the run the prior week, I felt really down after this one. The little doubtful voice in the back of my head gained volume over the next week, trying to convince me that I would never, ever be able to finish the BRT, so why would I even start?
Doubts gnawed at me until this past Saturday.
I had dropped my training volume after the prior week’s long run, so my legs were feeling good. I loaded up my pack with a full water bladder and most of the gear I I plan to take on the trail, just to get used to the extra weight. Even so, and even though I’d been out late the night before, I felt light and strong as I ran through Battle Creek.
Ten miles later, I still felt light and strong, even though I was running a full 30 seconds per mile faster than i usually do on the trails at Battle Creek.
There are still doubts nagging at the back of my mind, but they are much quieter than before.
