An African, 20 Bucks and Snow. Lots of Snow.

Exploring the Lenape Trail: Essex County, New Jersey

Pre-run prep: you can never be overly prepared! I only used one gel
and had the homemade granola bar afterwards, in the car. 

While Newark, New Jersey is not on my bucket list of the most beautiful places to live in, it holds a special place in my heart. It was where almost 17 years ago I would work for a big corporate consulting firm among MBAs and business types feeling very self-important in my early 20s, and where I would eventually meet my husband at the Penn Station after a freak January-rain storm had kept me hostage in the office for 5 hours after work had ended. I left the following October and married my beautiful West-African husband a few months later. My return to Newark for the Lenape Trail 34 Mile Run, a fatass event  sponsored by the New Jersey Trail and Ultra Runners, was equally auspicious, and also included an African.

More pre-run prep: TNF Winter Warm Tights, TNF Isotherm 1/2 Zip,
a cheap Energizer Head Lamp, Trail and Ultrarunning Buff, Altra
Compression Socks, and a Nike Thermal Shirt

After waking up at 3:30am (if you are a runner who does weekly long runs, this is completely normal, especially on a Saturday or Sunday) and driving to a town a few miles west of Newark that would be the finish of the 34 mile run, I arrived at the Millburn NJ Transit station, which was an ice-skating/ice-driving rink. It also was 6 degrees out and my fingers had basically frozen solid after walking across the parking lot.

Part of Belleveille Park

Fast forward to the start of the run: I had arrived an hour earlier so that if by chance I was planning on actually finishing the run, I would have a good opportunity to do so in daylight. Arriving earlier meant that I would have to find the start on my own; as I left the Broad Street station, I started walking in the wrong direction, WITH my navigation engaged on the cell phone. After watching my ETA climb up to 45 minutes, I decided to hail a cab. A NYC taxi turned the corner just as I had the thought. He pulled over and asked where I was going. Riverfront Park? Do you know where that is? NO, but I can try. I didn't even care how much it would cost, it was so cold.

This was the shallow stuff.

As we searched for the start, we started talking. Oh, you're a teacher. That's nice. What? You're here to run? HOW much? Wait, WHY? You couldn't get me to run…Do you have kids? An 11 year old, he must be big. Oh, your husband is African? I AM TOO! From Senegal. OUI. You speak French? WOW. I am so impressed. 

How I've never run in Yaktrax before this run, I DON'T KNOW.

We arrived at what I assumed was the start, Are you sure this is it? It looks kinda remote and maybe not safe. I mean, I live in Newark and I don't know what this is…we exchanged info--my blog name, and he his writer-sister's name and email, and then I asked Cest combien? C'est un plaisir. If I had wanted to charge you I would have turned on the meter. Bonne chance, ma soeur!

A welcome sight, after the urban decay in parts of Newark

After many wrong turns and stops to read my map, stop for a croissant at a gas station (I know, GROSS--but I had forgotten to eat breakfast), and talk to a random older guy on a corner who wished me well even though he had just been released from the hospital across the street with stitches and other things and was clearly in pain, I finally got on course. Locating the actual yellow blazes for the Lenape Trail was an adventure in itself, and I'm sure I looked like a crazy runner bag-lady with a croissant hanging from my mouth, a hydration pack whose hose had already frozen after only 2.5 miles, various items (ski socks, a thick striped woolen scarf, Yaktrax) bungeed to it, and a Trail and Ultrarunning buff under my Trail and Ultrarunning cap looking a little runnah-gangstah…

Running on the Lenape Trail is an adventure. The terminus of the trail is on the west bank of the Passaic River, which tries valiantly to NOT be a cesspool of petroleum additives and other poisonous nastiness. The designer of the trail wished to create a way in which to traverse Essex county in Central NJ via its parks, monuments, and tourist attractions. It is a mixed trail combining road/sidewalk running in its more urban reaches, park paths, and single track in its westernmost sections.

Finally! A blaze.

Branch Brook Park

After finally finding my way to Branch Brook Park, where the blazes were actually visible and NOT located on the bottom of snowdrift covered streetlamp posts, I headed north into the park. A quarter of a mile in, I spotted a folded up twenty dollar bill on the ground, all lonely and forlorn-looking. Without breaking my stride, I picked it up and said thanks to the universe for paying for my tolls and croissant.

The running was easy on the street, but hellishly difficult (which required slow, slogging steps) in the knee-deep snow as the trail continued north into Belleville. Imagine a stair-climber, elliptical, Cybex Arc Trainer workout all in one with cold, wet feet just getting accustomed to wearing metal spikes on their bottoms. This was when I started to imagine I was on the South Col of Everest, pretending I was a black sherpa--in New Jersey.

After leaving Branch Brook Park, the trail crosses over Second River into Belleville Park, an ex-urban oasis that reminded me of more remote untouched trails further north.  After losing the blazes a few more times, I left the park and crossed Belleville Avenue, heading northwest. At this point I was a little less than 10 miles into my run and I was finally hungry and thirsty. I spotted Rosebuds Luncheonette on a corner where the trail would head due north again and ordered a my classic NY-NJ breakfast, a butter(ed) roll and cawfee black.

Well, I'll just run a marathon then

Sitting at the counter reconfiguring and defrosting my thoughts, I decided that at the very least I would run a marathon. That would be fair, I thought- 13.1 out and 13.1 back.  I felt great after leaving the restaurant and made my way up a residential street lined with neat one-family houses, some hidden by huge snowbanks. Then things began to change. As the trail begins to follow aqueducts, the traversing becomes very difficult and time-consuming. The snow on mostly unused trail, was very deep, and this required so much leg lifting, stopping, resting, balancing, etc. that I eventually had a conversation with myself and agreed that I would go no further, unless I wanted to risk being stuck in the dark, freezing woods somewhere in central Jersey/Everest.

I turned back, saluted the rest of the trail and any participant who would finish that day (12 did). I hiked back out of snow-hell, and returned the way I came, this time following the trail, blazes and all back into Newark, ending my run at 19.4 miles. A bitterly cold wind welcomed me back into the city. I hopped on the train back to Milburn at Penn Station, found my car, inhaled the granola bar that I had left in it and drove back to Brooklyn.

What a day! To appreciate the Lenape Trail is to believe you are on some urban adventure, looking for clues as to where to head for the next snowy surprise. Here's hoping that next year there aren't too many polar vortices and freak snow storms on the Belleville Col and many more people will start and eventually finish this great event. Happy Trails!

My Fitness Bucket List

A few friends and I are planning a fairly epic adventure in a couple of years. In fact, it's so epic that we have to save and raise tons of money, acquire gear and necessities (which are not cheap), and perform a huge amount of research before we even think about purchasing plane tickets. Luckily, we are all marathoners and ultramarathoners so even though the physical challenge of this journey doesn't seem too overwhelming, it IS overwhelming. We are so excited!

This started me thinking about all of the physically challenging things I'd like to do before I am unable to, whether it is death (which is certain) or some other unfortunate circumstance that prevents me.

What's on your FITNESS BUCKET LIST? Here's what's on mine (I've posted the links to these fabulous events so you can check them out and maybe do some of them yourself):

• The Transrockies Run 6 Day Stage Race. Dream

• A multi-day hike/backpacking trip with Greg Aiello, the guy who narrated the Live Well Network's Motion series  exploring natures bounty, sometimes with people and other times alone. The show was recently cancelled, as was the fledgling ABC lifestyle network.  But I still have a dream to participate in a trip led by Mr. Aiello as my um, personal guide. From the very first sho, I was instantly hooked by the awesome photography, expansive views atop various peaks and more claustrophobic ones deep reddish-orange in canyons.

• R2R2R-->Rim to Rim to Rim at the Grand Canyon, hiking or fast-packing. Even though there are signs posted at various points saying you will probably die. 

• The Paris and Berlin Marathons and a host of of other European marathons in major cities, but I hear these two in particular are fab. 

• NYC Marathon: Please, universe. Please. And just this once I'd like to do a 5:30 marathon. Just this once. I would like to run in my hometown, maybe next year.

• A 100 Miler such as THIS one, I think I'd be satisfied with doing just one. Did I just put this out there? For the uninitiated, a 100 miler is exactly what it says, but on foot and likely running through the night for long periods alone. 

• Javelina Jundred 100k I've been eyeing this one for a couple of years. 

• Finishing the TGNY 100K. Like actually finishing. I've attempted this twice: once just using the course markers after the actual racer, I'll achieve many more miles.

• Philadelphia Marathon

• NJ Trail Series 50 Miler during the Ultra Festival

• Lake Placid Marathon

• Finishing the TGNY 100K. Like actually finishing. I've attempted this twice: once just using the course markers after the actual race began, and the second time finishing 27.5 miles of the course before I was done. Maybe this year, I'll achieve many more miles.

• Chattanooga Half Ironman

• Scuba diving. Anywhere.

• An Outward Bound multi-day backpacking experience for adults, such as THIS

• Sky-diving

• Getting above half of a rock-climbing wall. This would be a huge accomplishment!

• A 24-hour race, like this one

• Hiking lots of the AT and the PCT in sections. I've been intrigued by the Appalachian Trail since forever, and even thought I did NOT particularly fall in love with Cheryl Strayed, I loved the retelling of her journey on the Pacific Crest Trail

• Go on a short solo backpacking trip. This is probably the MOST scary and what I'll need the most hand-holding for

• Fat-Dog 50 Miler in BC, Canada. This looks so amazing. Every time I see an ad for it in Trail Runner Mag, I feel the urge to hop on a flight RIGHT THIS INSTANT to Canada

• PARKOUR-Basically what we used to do off of the monkey-bars in city parks and in pre-hipster Brooklyn racing down our long blocks doing what we called "fence races"--in a glorified manner.

• Backpack around the base of Everest and then up to base camp.

• Run around the island of Roatán in the Bay Islands of Honduras to salute my ancestors (and current family, too)

• Hiking and then summiting Kilimanjaro

• The Laugavegur Ultramarathon in Iceland, and then go sit in the Blue Lagoon for hours afterwards. How cool would it sound to say, "Yeah dude, I just ran the Laudate Dominum Marathon in Iceland?" How COOL?

• Anything on Mt Rainer. Nuff said.

• Maui Marathon or anything on Hawaii? Volcanic marathon? Yes. Beach marathon? Yes.

• A Denali Back-packing expedition, NOT Chris McCandless-style, though.

• A Kripalu Yoga Retreat

• A Canyon Ranch anything. I can dream…

This is just the beginning. 

Cheerleaders Don't Always Have Pom-Poms

A sign made by my cousins before my 4th Marine Corps Marathon in 2014

A few years ago while out on my very first 18 mile training run on the Columbia Trail in High Bridge New Jersey, I stepped off to the side of the trail to collect myself. I was beginning to chafe everywhere (this was before I was aware of high quality tech fabric and BODY GLIDE.) There was substantially more weight on my body than there is now and I felt extra heavy and in pain, everywhere. I was wearing the wrong kind of shoes. It was hot, and unbearably humid. I wanted so badly to stop and lie down in the poison ivy at the side of the trail.

I didn't even have a chance to throw in the towel. Just as these negative thoughts began floating around me like the filth does around that dirty kid in Charlie Brown cartoons, an angel in the form of a man named Ralph Abramowitz ran by me, and then stopped when he realized there was a person standing, half hidden behind a tree at the side of the trail. I can only imagine how I must have looked.

"Hey! Are you okay?" he asked, smiling.

"Um, I think so. Just taking a break."

"How much ya' doing today?"

"Eighteen" I said, incredulously. Did that number just come out of my mouth?

"Wow! Whatcha training for?"

"The Marine Corps Marathon." Did I just say that? Holy shit, I'm really training for a marathon.

"That's great! You're gonna LOVE IT!"

I bet I am, said that negative voice of mine that loves to present itself when I least need it to. I. Bet. I. Am. But I smiled and said, "I hope so. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to run for 9 more miles."

Ralph smiled his big, radiant smile. "You got this far, you can do it again. Take a break. Drink your water. Have a gel. And then get started again. YOU GOT THIS."

Who was this overly chipper guy and why was he trying to convince me of the impossible?

"I'm Ralph by the way, and I've got a group called Ralph's Runners, and we're out here every weekend. I've got my runners doing 22 today. They're also doing MCM. Listen, I gotta go but we have a group on Facebook. I'd love for you to join. Look us up! What's your name by the way?"

"Mirna"

"Mirna, it was nice to meet you. Remember, you got this far..."

"THANKS RALPH!"

And then he ran off.

TWENTY-TWO miles? I couldn't even wrap my head around 18. Wow.

I did exactly what Ralph said and managed to finish the second half of my run, albeit with tremendous foot pain from plantar fasciitis, back soreness, brain fatigue. But I completed it. This was because of two things--I had to (my car was 9 miles away) and because this stranger had encouraged me to finish it, even though he didn't KNOW me from a poison-ivy covered tree or a menacing looking black bear on the prowl. He was cheering me on, encouraging me, transferring his energy and positivity to me.
In sports as in life, the purpose of cheerleaders, whether they are the pom-pom wielding ones in brightly colored ribbons and short skirts or the super-acrobats catapulting themselves into thin air, is to "energize the team and the crowd." I would take it a step further and say that the most important aspect of cheerleading is to SUPPORT the team, loudly and energetically so that that any negative thinking or juju from the other team is drowned out in positivity and er, cheer. 
As a non-traditional runner and fitness enthusiast, it has become increasingly clear how much support and encouragement I needed and still need in order to be able to do the things I am able to do, like complete an ultramarathon, backpack in the Appalachian Mountains for few days with a 60 Lb pack on my back while being responsible for myself and ten students, or to keep it real, just to be able to run whenever and wherever I want to. 

After about 6 hours of switchbacks in Pisgah National Forest heading toward Pinnacle Mountain.

The running and fitness communities are incredible, as are those who are spectators. Everyone who has ever said, GET IT!, YOU GO GIRL!, YOU GOT THIS!, FINISH STRONG!, SMILE! ONLY 26 MILES LEFT!, OMG YOU ARE OUT HERE!, JUST A FEW YARDS TO GO!, LOOKING GOOD, UM, THAT SEXY MARINE JUST SMILED AT YOU!.....is a cheerleader. Anyone who has ever made a sign to hold up for hours and hours at a marathon is a cheerleader. Anyone who helps you get up in the morning so that you can workout like you promised yourself you would is a cheerleader. Anyone who gives you that encouraging smile or a simple thumbs up is a cheerleader.

Surround yourself with cheerleaders so that they help to drown out the internal and external saboteurs that loudly question your ability or commitment to your body. Be a cheerleader for those on the path to fitness and for those who need a smile or acknowledgement that yeah, this is hard. Finally, thank your cheerleaders and acknowledge them. They deserve it.

I'm seven marathon distances and 2 ultramarathon distances in since my encounter with Coach Abramowitz. Thank you, Ralph.

I CAN'T SLEEP!

THANK YOU

Tammi Nowack, Photographer

As you may or may not know, a few days ago I was one of two bigger gals featured in a Wall Street Journal Article "Weight Loss or Not, Exercise Yields Benefits" by health and fitness writer, Rachel Bachman. What an incredible honor to be recognized for what I love doing by the friggin WALL STREET JOURNAL! I also got a shout out from Clark Howard during his radio show on Feb 10 (start the podcast 43 minutes in.) How's that for major kudos? What an honor to have such an overwhelming response by all of my family, friends, colleagues, and a slew of people I don't even know! 

If you haven't had a chance to read the article yet, HERE it is. Also, be sure to read my long-time friend and colleague Derrick Gay's excellent response and deconstruction of the concept of  LOOKISM on his blog Diversity Derrick.

I haven't been able to sleep for the past week or so. I am so excited to have been profiled because of the mere existence of this here blog and this post in particular. I thank all of you who have read it and participated in all of my adventures, either in real-life or vicariously! RUN ON.

 

Waldeinsamkeit

Waldeinsamkeit: Classical music, KESHA, and running in the woods

The view from a trail in Juneau, Alaska!

Some of you may know that I am a classically trained singer and on occasion, I geek out on all things classical. Although I don't sing much anymore, I find much pleasure and satisfaction in connecting my singing past to my running present.  There are many similarities between expressing the beauty that is life with the human instrument and running for hours, alone with yourself, your legs, your mind and the flora and fauna that give us life and sustenance. There is such basic humanity in both, and each is a metaphor for the other.

Photo of me, Courtesy of Tammi Nowack, Photographer

Have you ever wandered into the woods and become struck with a sense of awe, peace, and complete connectedness to your own self and to the surrounding beauty? That is Waldeinsamkeit, German for the feeling of being alone in the woods. To experience Waldeinsamkeit is to experience a sort of visceral spirituality. It satisfies that basic human longing to connect with nature, the universe. I love running trails because I am and have always been an introvert. Even though I have a job which requires me to be around and engaging with people constantly (and TEENAGERS at that!) all the time, pretty much every day except during the summer, I prefer to be alone immersed in a hefty tome or experiencing flow, running amidst trees, on pebble and boulder, splashing in puddles, crossing cold, rushing brooks. Running like this, even in a race situation is a meditation and complete envelopment of body and soul. Anytime I'm in a forest, whether it be the Chattahoochee National Forest in the South, or the Bronx's Van Cortlandt Park in late spring with the distant hum of cars and trains, I am immediately soothed by an exquisite solitude in running through trees.

Dem Schnee

One of the pleasures of singing classical music is becoming intimately acquainted with with sublime poetry set to most vivid piano accompaniments. Many composers, particularly those from the romantic era, had and expressed a strong, almost ethereal connection to the outdoors. They read and  obsessed over poems and novels, particularly those about love, unrequited love, and nature. Sometimes nature offered solitude and time to ponder all things existential.  Other times it proved to be a huge life metaphor; there were things humans simply could not overcome, although we tried and still try.

I sing a lot while running--or power hiking, as is the case on many a trail run. Sometimes it's a Schubert song with an energetic accompaniment that mimics driving rain and snow (been there, done that) that I imagine my friend Sylvia playing spiritedly. Other times it's a more pensive and slow-moving piece like Brahms' Feldeinsamkeit.  Ach! The Germans and Austrians knew. They simply knew the cleansing and mind-clearing and mood-enhacing abilities of the outdoors! NO DRUGS NECESSARY.

Trail with creepy cave, in Spoleto, Italy

I recall each section of a particular trail or race by the music that I associate it, and sometimes it is decidedly not classical. In my last ultra, The Georgia Jewel 35 Mile, I distinctly remember singing, well...yelling Kesha's Crazy Kids at at the top of my lungs. It was a very long uphill section after the 17.5 mile turn-around. I was in last place at that point (and remained so for the rest of the course) and happened to be asking myself "WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING and WHY?" when miraculously, this song started playing on my Pandora, deep in the woods somewhere on the Pinhoti Trail. I totally needed the affirmation of crazy. After three miles of power hiking uphill, stopping, crying, thengetting angry, and being okay, and then not being okay,  I changed the station to Maria Callas. The aria (an operatic solo) from Puccini's Sola, Perdutta, Abandonata sung by Renata Scotto came on (Alone, Lost, and Abandoned). Perfect. Just perfect.  Sometimes the universe just knows.

School Cross Country Trail

Other times, I listen to and sing Luther Vandross songs, like I did at the Wildcat Ridge Romp--that was because of a particularly scary section of trail. Everyone's fair game. Extreme, the Indigo Girls, The Cranberries, TI, Missy...and Debussy. Jay-Z is GREAT by a rushing river with few rock-hopping opportunities. Sometimes, the flood of testosterone is all that is needed to overcome any fears of being sucked into a hydraulic. But I digress...

So happy to be on a trail in Italy

Alone in the woods, running, I am able to focus on the pure physicality of existence. When I am singing, there is a physicality, spirituality, and direct connection with the world that can only be expressed with the human voice, which is an essential part of the human body--just as your legs and heart are. Prancing about in the forest is the perfect fusion of of pure physicality, nature's awe-inspiring and silent yet noisy poetry, and solitude that is simultaneously stimulating, sensuous, and calming. Singing while running only enhances this experience (in addition to making you less scared of the imaginary cougar stalking you in the trees.) Go run and sing!

Wildcat Ridge Romp 2014

Making Friends With The Trail

Sometimes you have to go out on a limb, both literally and figuratively, way out of your comfort zone and intentionally make friends with a trail. 

The first time I participated in the Wildcat Ridge Romp, (a consortium of doable to devilish lengths of races from 10 miles to 100K put on by my sadomasochist friends Rick and Jennifer McNulty who own the wildly successful  NJ Trail Series), I vowed to never to do it again. Each of the three times that I've done the course, I've spooked myself into believing that I was hearing imaginary black bears growling and snakes hissing at me during the first mile. (Each time, it was only the sound of large rocks rolling downhill that had been loosened by my heavy and clumsy plodding uphill.)

At the outset, the course (comprised of fire roads, old horse-carriage trails, ATV trails and  apparently dirt-bike trails, too) brings you rather quickly into a dark and cool but ugly, garbage strewn section of the Wildcat Ridge WMA. You descend into what I recently discovered used to be an actual village. In fact, if you look closely, there are ruins of a few structure that had been built with cement blocks. Although this WMA had once been the location of a string of the iron mines collectively known as the Hibernia Mine, the debris tells a different, more recent story--perhaps of transients living in anarchy...

One of several garbage-strewn areas in the WMA

I wondered what had possessed people to dump trash in the midst of what should be pristine forest. There are tires, cars with mangled parts, empty faded plastic pails, dried-up water-logged paper, broken glass, rusted steel barrels, decaying clothes, and other remnants of a marginal human existence. This offended my aesthetic sensibilities and my expectation to be perpetually wowed by nature and humans' supposed desire to keep the forest as it should be.  I hated the course immediately. At this point you still have about 9 miles to complete the 10 mile-loop. What would the rest of the course look like? It could only improve, right?  It did, for a while. There were also impeccable sections like this--

Luther Vandross and the shade of Cimmeria

The course winds along through a combination of densely carpeted forest floor, full of ferns, thick grasses and vines, the sometimes unmarked trails widening into rocky, chingoncito filled paths. And then there's this--

Two sections of dark and spooky hollows, one just a few shades lighter than the other. The first is an area so heavily jam-packed with 7-8 foot tall flora whose overhanging branches and leaves succeed in snagging and holding on to your running cap, multiple times.  And then the course takes you through the McNultian idea of a cruel trail joke (because there is certainly another trail we could be running on, right?) You continue on, or in my case run-creeping along, hoping that the worst is over when a dark, tunnel-like entry into what seems to be a parallel underworld comes into view. There is no way out, no escaping. (Insert Halloween-themed scream here.) No choice but to move forward, singing Luther Vandross songs at the top of my lungs. Did I care about other folks hearing the obvious fear in my loud rendition of Dance with my Father? It was singing Luther Vandross, or dying of fear. I chose Luther. 

Into the depths of Cimmeria

As you enter this verdantly green hell, you see a cleared out space under the huge low-hanging tree/bush complete with low benches arranged in a semi-circle. Obviously there are people who use this space for what? Meetings of the nefarious kind? Hope not. Again the trees play jokes on you, swiping your running cap again and laughing quietly. I stopped, faced the Cimmerian shade and spoke aloud,  "My hat, please. Thank you." Fortunately the tree did not speak back, and I felt comforted in having had the cojones to stop and face the darkness. If you are running more than one loop, you have to do it all over again, and it is no less harrowing. 

The course then becomes a bit more traditional, with occasional technical bits and some pretty awesome single-track. And then there is a clearing out of the brush and a vista from atop a rock outcropping with a stunningly clear view of the New Jersey Skylands and in the distance, a faint stenciling of the the New York City skyline. I stood and looked out over Northern New Jersey, a little wistful and nostalgic (I moved to Appalachia exactly a year ago, the day after my second Wildcat Ridge Romp) and then tackled the next section of the course, a mostly down-hill gravel road. 

Every trail has to have a body of water that sort of creeps you out.  After the aid station, you pass by Beaver Pond, which I have sometimes referred to as Creepy Pond. There is an abundance of bull-frogs, small beaver dams, and areas packed with lily-pads. This year, the weather was absolutely clear and no fog lifted from the water, Narnia-like, but it was no less creepy. Save for the human-like conversations of bullfrogs, no other sounds emanated from this small expanse of still water, my heavy breathing notwithstanding.

So now I need Parkour lessons?

In October of 2012, Super-storm Sandy wreaked havoc in most of New Jersey, downing trees and power lines, flooding homes along the shore, forcing people out of work and school. The Wildcat Ridge WMA was not immune to the effects of the storm and so suffered a plethora of downed trees, many coming to rest in the middle of major trails. During the summer of 2013, the Rompers would have to climb over several downed trees, much to my dismay. I remember thinking aloud, well, very loudly, "Does Rick think I'm gonna climb over these trees? DAMMIT RICK!" And so I climbed, balancing precariously on large and small limbs, jumping down, feeling like a badass until we had to do it again, several times. This year, the trails had been cleared, much to my personal delight!

After several steep ascents and subsequent descents in a boulder field there is Beaver Brook that you have to cross in order to continue on the course that will eventually skirt by the edge of Splitrock Reservoir. I pranceth not, but others do. Many runners skipped, hopped and jumped Parkour-like over the boulders and slippery rocks. I, on the other hand, calculated every single step with the precision of an engineer for fear of falling face first in the water. After crossing, the course hangs a left and travels in a fairly straight path the to dam, from which a large pipe gently releases water from the reservoir. In years past, Rompers scaled the rocky side of the damn onto Split Rock Road. This year, however, we had to climb over the the area where the water flowed from the pipe. Jumping over but not completely clearing the warm, slightly fishy smelling rivulet and then climbing on painful gravel and concrete blocks, bypassing the road that was under repair.

It's all downhill from here, kind of.

After you scale the dam, you ascend and then descend onto power-cut land, electrical energy frenetically buzzing above and around you. The trail is rolling for a mile or so, and then it joins what used to be a the Oreland Branch Railroad at a slight and very pleasing grade for the next two miles or so. At the end of this section, you travel onto a residential road (downhill!) with big houses and loud dogs before re-entering the forest to rejoining the trail lollipop style to complete the 10 mile loop.

This is not a trail race in which you can zone out, running neatly trimmed single-track trails with few surprises or challenges. This course challenges everything possible--your senses and sensibilities, fears, training. There is a sort of primal quality to it that, while it isn't for everyone--especially those new to trail-running, inspires you to appreciate those trails that are not fantastically weird or scary. You must extend your hands, feet, and heart in friendship to the forest, and it in turn, will befriend you.

Power-cuttin' it up

Selfie-Affirmation

Why I "SELFIE"


In my narcissistic, non-scientific, and self-aggrandizing opinion, I have come to the conclusion that the act of taking a daily "selfie" can help a person be in constant practice of self-affirmation. There are indeed many people who have jumped off the deep-end, snapping photos of their mostly naked selves with oddly puckered lips in that most glamorous of odorous places, the loo. But there are also many folks who do it just because they wish to share the incredible joy of their experiences with friends and family. 
I selfie every day that I run or do something that challenges my big, strong body. Sometimes I am alone, and other times I am with a group of people, both new friends and old. Sometimes I am in the midst of a particularly challenging exploit, and I will take a photo to remind myself that what I am doing is supposed to be hard, and I am actually doing it. I want my circles of family and friends to know what I've been up to, and how I look, even when the photo is not at all flattering. I want them to know that if there is something that inspires and motivates them, that they should do it and snap photos of themselves doing that difficult thing, too. 

The process of/road to self-acceptance and self-love is a long one, and one that requires a commitment to loving yourself (and spreading that love to others) no matter how you perceive yourself that moment, day, or year. 

The puritanical practice of self-devaluation and self-deprecation at the expense of a healthy sense of self (but not overblown ego) is obsolete and useless for our times. This is not to say that we shouldn't love others, rather, in order to love others, we must love ourselves first. This is especially important as women. It is a dangerous thing to be completely self-less. What will you have to give if you have not given anything to yourself? A quick photo doesn't cost the money of therapy or lipo, so I choose this. Why NOT present ourselves in the way we want to be presented? We might actually start believing that we are as awesome as our pics suggest.

I also selfie to remind myself that although I still have a long way to go in my quest for overall physical, spiritual, and mental health, I'm doing OKAY right now. I am satisfied if a little impatient with my progress, but overall content.

Along with the selfies I post on Facebook, I usually post a pic of where I am so that others can appreciate the natural beauty of where I get to live out my life. It is gorgeous where I live in Georgia, and it is also beautiful in the places that I have been fortunate to run in. This, for me, is my most humble (and technologically savvy) expression of gratitude for being able to simply be myself and no one else. Being able to record the awesomeness of living, and what life has given me is a gift that I hope to pay-forward with the joy that I hope is expressed in my photos. Of me.