Mountain Junkies, LLC Frozen Toe 10k
Trail running is painful. And beautiful. It's beautifully painful.
5:00 am. Alarm. The first thoughts that roll through your head at that time? "No. Just, no."
5:10 am. Alarm. Again. "I said no."
5:20 am. Alarm. This time there are cats staring at me. Insisting on breakfast. One is nose to nose with me. Licking his lips loudly. Breathing on me. Purring. Loudly. "FINE!"
Morning Shakeology (Chocolate with Soy Milk, Almond Extract, and Mint - sooooo yummy) and I'm feeling better about trudging out in the 15 degree morning to my car. Heat. Must have heat.
Arrive on site and pick up my race packet, including my cool new Mountain Junkies Hoo-Rag. Check the weather again and it's now 13 degrees. The sun is finally up and it's getting colder. Whatever.
Line up at the starting line with the sun shining down on us and think, "This may not be so bad." Then run .05 miles into the shade and think, "I'm not dead sure my legs are actually moving. Are my legs moving? I'm moving, so my legs must be moving."
1 mile in and I still can't feel my feet. It's called the Frozen Toe 10k, but it is not just my toes that are frozen. My feet are frozen. Pretty sure frostbite is setting in. That's it. I'm gonna lose a whole foot in this one. Maybe two. Sucks cause I really like running.
Mile 2. Tree root. I think. Not sure because I wasn't paying attention and I didn't actually feel my foot hit anything. But I know I'm going down. I try to catch myself, flailing at air. That doesn't help. Air is useless. I'm down. Eating dirt. My first fall ever on a trail run. I'm assured by the man behind me who helps me up that now I won't fall again since I already got it out of the way. I guess it's a Law of the Trails or something. The chick in front of me says she likes to do a little celebration when she falls because it's so exciting. Ummmm, ok.
Mile 3. Up. Just....up. Sucks. Up sucks. I hate up. Never doing this run again.
Mile 4. Chick in front of me goes down. True to her word, she jumps back up and does a little cheer. Interesting.
Mile 5. Pretty sure my legs have actually left my body. I can't feel them. Not because they are cold, but because they are revolting against more up. They thought mile 3 was enough up. Random words start to float through my head. Words like "proprioception." Do you know what proprioception means? Do a trail run after the age of 30. You'll figure it out.
Mile 6. That's so pretty. What a pretty little pink mile marker. Actually, it's not pretty. It's magnificent. That's the most magnificent number 6 I've ever seen.
Finish line. Happy. Warm room. Chocolate chip pumpkin bread. Fuzzy boots.
Home. Hot shower. Hot coffee. Cozy jammies. Cuddly blanket. And, of course, cats. Lots of cats. When does 2015 registration open?





