Tag: trail running

The Wild Oak Trail

The Wild Oak Trail delivered this weekend – spooky, challenging, and overall, epic. This is described as a wild and free race. Participants follow the official blazes with minimal support. Yet the race director and a few of his friends made the racefeel huge. This weekend had more excitement and support than some of the 300+ entrant trail races I’ve participated in. There is something important about coming together for a love of the earth. A lot of us are rough around the edges, like the terrain.

To bring it together, I’ll recap by noting key moments.

11pm the night before: I’m still awake, refreshing the Facebook page. I want to know that my partner and friends out there had a good second loop in the 100 race before falling asleep. I somehow fall asleep before knowing their fate.

Getting to the parking lot in the dark: Snow is still coming down. I’m hyping myself up by remembering that I ran Bullshit Backyard in worse conditions (33 degrees and pouring rain for 7 hours) and that friends about to show up have done major winter backpacking trips. There are no bad conditions, just bad gear, amiright? I want to be right.

7am: I start reading Gale Marie Thompson’s Mountain Amnesia. The first poem opens with, It seems important to know the name / for this smallish mountain. Chills run through my body as I look out of the van to the trailhead.

8am: We’re off! One of the largest groups ever for this event. There’s a fresh coating of snow after the whirlwind storm that blew through before sunrise. It’s comforting to know that in addition to the trail blazes (and our various backup map formats), we’ll be able to follow each other’s tracks.

Mile 1-7: Tucked behind a group of Canadian runners with a friend. We’re both strong climbers, but after hearing how hard this trail is for months in the lead-up, we’re both conservative in our goals and starting effort. Around 4 miles in, I verbalize that we’ve had many delightful false flats – so far, the trail is reminiscent of a longer Bobs Hill (in Catoctin), which we both feel confident on. She validates my assessment and I can tell we’re both getting much more confident.

Mile 10: I’m still running with a small group of Canadians and we’re all generally very hype, so we approach the water crossing at Camp Todd with enthusiasm. We debate the merits of taking off our shoes. I share that folks that started on Friday for the 100 distance said the course was very wet after the water crossing, so removing your shoes would be futile. Most of us get to the river, grab the safety rope, and plunge right in.

Mile 10.5: The friend I spent the first climb with trots past me after we left the Camp Todd aide station. I knew it might be the last time I saw her, and I famously said “I’m going to walk while finishing my sandwich, maybe see you later!” She scurries up the mountain with ease. It is always feral girl fall in the wilderness.

Mile 13ish: After finishing my sandwich, climbing for a bit with another talented local female runner, I had been sharing some miles with a Canadian runner. We were having a good time, but nausea was coming on strong. The PB&J was too much. I said something like, “I’m going to get quiet. I need to focus on not vomiting.” 

Mile 14-15: The terrain transitioned to about a 20-30% downhill grade for much of this descent. Rain, warmth, then snow in 48 hours turned it into slop. I trotted down at my own pace, working to keep my back straight and shoulders down as best I could on my least favorite terrain.

Mile 16: I’m alone and thinking about how strong I’ve felt so far. I could have never done this without excision surgery, hysterectomy, and all the other medical support during the worst of my endometriosis. 

Mile 17: I’m back with the Canadian runner and he remarks that I seem to be doing much better. I am. One of the challenges in these long efforts is to not let a tough moment derail your day. I kept my forward motion when I wasn’t feeling well, and it passed. 

Mile 19: Not quite realizing we are on part of the trail nicknamed Chin-Scrapper, we plod up the steepest climb of the day with focus and resolve, checking in on each other when we hear foot slips on the muddy snow and leaves.

Mile 21-23: We’re on a fire road! We can open up our legs! We are so shocked and thrilled that we have this treat, we check the map multiple times. It’s still raining, possibly freezing rain (both our hat brims are frozen), when we hear footsteps behind us. Another woman is flying down the road. We all exchange words of encouragement before she disappears into the mist ahead of us.

Mile 23: My running buddy says we are supposed to have one more major climb before the finish (see mile 19 note above). I say that mile 19 was pretty steep, but we can’t remember where this infamous climb is, so we decide we’ll take it as it comes. I’m also looking back for Jeremy to catch us at the end of his 4th loop. Based on time, he can’t be too far behind, but we are moving faster than I expected. He ended up getting 3rd overall in the 100 for his massive effort, but while running, all I could do was wonder.

Mile 25: My running buddy points out an exceptionally shaped tree. This is a native trail marking – trail trees, culturally modified trees, that have been modified by indigenous people as part of their tradition. I have been thinking about belonging and am once again reminded that the earth has been stewarded for many years before us.

Mile 26.5: We run into Aaron about to finish his 7th loop! He’s a Maryland runner that started on Wednesday in the 8 loop, 200 mile effort that only a handful of people have finished since 1988. We have an encouraging exchange and continue with some haste to keep going to the parking lot. The final stretch of the trail is rather rocky and slick for my taste, especially on tired legs, but the hard climbs are over.

Finish: 7 hours and 45 minutes. Taking it comfortable while still making a point to trot as much as possible, I came in under my conservative goal of 8-10 hours. I packed food, water, and a headlamp like I could take 12-14 hours, based on everyone’s terrifying descriptions. The Wild Oak Trail is not easy, but the earth rewarded any one that took it on with its climbs, smooth descents, and varied fauna. 

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Mountain Amnesia by Gale Marie Thompson
  • Belonging: A Culture of Place by bell hooks
  • History of my Breath by Kristin Kovacic

Stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

Feel Good Story Of The Year

I thought I’d have this done sooner, but life, then illness and moving, slowed me down. So! Here’s a little recap of 2023 through some superlatives, as I think about being worse in 2024. You read that correctly. At the end of last year, I read a meme that said, “I’m gonna be worse.” I read it as leaning into yourself, embracing your idiosyncrasies. Where I want to be.

I Will Endure Paperwork To Travel

I hate paperwork. I get anxiety any time I think about filing my taxes, which happens to be daily as TurboTax harasses my email account. Getting my passport updated was a comedy of errors as I got ready to visit friends in Estonia. I could not find a CVS nearby that had a working photo printer, I’d go to a Post Office and their internet would be down…finally, I had my updated passport in hand so I could leave the country for the first time. I faced the anxiety of traveling alone (with a connecting flight in Amsterdam!) head on. Or at least, I decided to just do it. I’m so glad my friends opened their place to me so I could explore such a unique place. Estonia has seen so much change, yet preserved its history.

Best Worst Race Description

Eagleton Trail Challenge was described as “runnable.” No. I would still recommend the race for the beauty of the terrain changes and fun aide stations. At almost 6,000 feet of vert, almost two miles crisscrossing mossy rocks over a stream, a final climb at mile 29 so steep that a rope was along the trail to assist your climb, I spent around half the race walking. Another Faster Bastard and I happened to be signed up for our first 50ks, so we spent the almost 9 hours together. I could not have done it without her.

Most Colorful Day: Flower Mart

Sure, the spring equinox is in March, but have you ever gone to the Flower Mart in Mount Vernon? Usually the first weekend in May, the sun emerges from gray April wind and rain. I had a lemon squeeze with a good friend and her family, we bought herbs for our gardens—a pastoral kind of day in the middle of Baltimore.

Favorite Song To Repeat Over And Over

According to Spotify, I listened to “Worms” by Ashnikko 218 times. That doesn’t include the countless hours I was on trails, headphone-less, chanting in my head play my life like a video game / I don’t mind I’m driving through flames. Find me a better song for trotting along that sees the humor in futility! Check out all of Ashnikko’s music for her humor, spite, but also, vulnerability. Her creative persona is not afraid to feel deeply.

Most Out-Of-Body While Performing Experience

In September, I read as part of a fundraiser for The Lights Went Out Because There Was a Problem. I read a selection of older work. My soul left my body as I read. The words did turn blue in my mouth—they didn’t feel like me. Writing this four months later, I have been exploring new ways to conceptualize older work. I still love the poems, but I am not the same artist. How good to grow!

Realization Of The Year

My health wasn’t the focus for others. I was able to be there for people I love who had their own health-scare moments. As I continue to sit in a liminal space between healthy and sick (I can run ultramarathons! I catch viruses at the drop of a hat! Why won’t my thyroid relax?!), I felt relief to not be the focus.

Favorite Decision Of The Year

Buying a house outside of Gettysburg with my love!! Some things I want to hold close to the chest. I am grateful for our life.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Places I’ve Taken My Body: Essays by Molly McCully Brown
  • Nice Nose by Buck Downs
  • Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl by Carrie Brownstein

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

Meandering intensity

Time to meander through artistic and athletic identity, as I often do.

I finished a 50k trail race last month. When I think about it, I think about how finishing the helped me turn off arbitrary limitations swirling in my head. It wasn’t as fast as I wanted, but damn it was fun to run and problem solve through ugly terrain with a friend. If I can do that, what can’t I do?

I talk about limits like I haven’t been an athlete since I was in elementary school. An athlete, a writer, trying to figure out where a person that loves both can fit. It has taken me years to understand that I can be an artist and an athlete. Perhaps this shouldn’t have been difficult, but it had been presented to me as an either/or situation. Like curiosity and pushing the limits don’t complement each other.

Circus, and then finding beautiful long form essays in places like Outside, or Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, then the academic & creative writing from Leslie Heywood has helped me see myself as more of a whole person, not fragments of expectations. This is a privileged struggle, but it is also so common in different ways. What have you had to break free from?

A few years of creative work have dropped recently in journals. I’m excited and overwhelmed – since my endometriosis diagnosis, I’ve grappled with how much I want to write about navigating the trauma of chronic illness versus how much actual change the writing can bring. That’s probably unnecessary pressure. Many writers have discussed writing about trauma, and I think often back to a conversation at Charm City Books between D. Watkins and Rion Amilcar Scott: D. was working on new essays (what would come to be Black Boy Smile—go get it, the essays are gorgeous) and grappling with how much he would write about trauma. He discussed wanting to write about simple joys too. What was he writing for?

That why is at the forefront of every word I put down. The question might be why do I write or it might be why is this joy or why is this contributing to a cultural conversation, but it always starts with some sort of searching, and probably thoughts about audience. There is this push online to build social networks with more authenticity, more immediacy. What is more authentic than caring for your community in what you put out there?

Places to find new writing:
Cobra Milk issue 4
Virtual launch party on May 23 @ 8pm EST, Click here to RSVP

Jarnal issue 3: Transitions
Virtual launch party on June 11 @ 12pm EST, Zoom information to come


Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • The Sense of Wonder by Rachel Carson
  • Black Boy Smile by D. Watkins
  • You Could Make This Place Beautiful by Maggie Smith
  • Choosing to Run by Des Linden

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

I am deceased

Nothing more unnerving than being a thing.
-Dorothea Lasky, Milk

My first attempt at a longer trail race…was an experience. Not quite unnerving, but felt very much like I didn’t want to be a body. I ran the Hyner Trail Half Marathon yesterday. Quite a few people gave me useful, practical advice beforehand about the course and the climbs, yet the real time experience left me feeling deceased by mile 5. It was a 14 mile race—those last 9 miles were straight guts / wondering if I was a ghost.

I had a little pity party on Strava, so I’d rather focus on additional pieces of the race that struck me in a positive way:

  • PA Trail Dogs put on such a fun race—from clear communication about how to get to the start in a remote area to delightful folks at the aid stations. I am keeping tabs of more races they host throughout the year. The group maintains Central PA trails, and at the adult races, they use proceeds to fund trail races for kids.
  • Pennsylvania trail runners absolutely crush descents. I was told to watch for this before the race, and then every time I saw it happen as I was passed, I would tell the runner they were incredible.
  • Bless the aid stations. I took a spill on a root of a flat section about a half mile before the mile 8 aid station. Correct, I didn’t fall on a technical section. I paused to try to decide if I should just call it an 8 mile training run. I had pickle juice, ginger ale, and then one of the volunteers looked at me while I was sipping coke and said “want some Fireball?” I added some in my soda. This is not a road race, kids.
  • It was not the final climb (so many steep climbs, I misunderstood the elevation chart and expected more rolling hills, my bad), but there was a climb again after the mile 11 aid station. As I stared at the ascent, the speaker at the station started playing “Come Out and Play.” The rage of The Offspring came when I needed it. I did not exactly charge up the hill in my state, but it was a decent effort.
  • A man was playing a banjo and drinking from a growler around mile 12— other runners acknowledged him so I know I wasn’t hallucinating. I told him he was doing it right, we had a brief laugh.
  • I have such a good time with my brother. I was talking about Wineglass and how I never want to hear a race is net downhill ever again, so after I finished Hyner he was like “Well, this race was net downhill. The finish is below the start line.” LOL I had a good laugh in my frustrated post-race mood.
  • Lighter shoes are not always better. I definitely wore the wrong shoes. No, a different shoe wouldn’t take me from a 14 minute-mile struggle descent on switchbacks to an 8 minute-mile send-it, but my toes were not protected enough in my beloved Adidas Terrex Speed Ultra. I thought “race” and brought them, but I should have brought my Altras (I don’t know the model because I bought them so long ago, they are basically Hummers for my feet). My toes were tenderized by all the slamming downhill early in the race. They needed more protection on the descents.

I’ve already debriefed a bit with my coach, and I’m excited to add more long trail efforts to my training and to hit more races. I love the controlled chaos of trail running, and the camaraderie after. I’ll take a few days off, then be back out there logging longer miles for bigger goals, and having a good time with the Faster Bastards Oberhills crew.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Milk  by Dorothea Lasky
  • The 2000s Made Me Gay by Grace Perry
  • I’m So Fine by Khadijah Queen

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.