When I was first getting back into competitive running during graduate school, Emmy and I had this brilliant idea to do a trail race in January in North Carolina. We had just finished City of Oaks Marathon and wanted a reason to keep training through the winter so we signed up. The day dawned sunny but cold and we learned a valuable lesson that even though we lived below the Mason Dixon, ice could still form and that even more importantly, what was recently ice would turn into mud.
Not having raced a trail race ever (Emmy) and not having raced off the roads since high school (me), neither of us were sure what to expect. The first mile or so was fine and I thought my worries were for nothing. Then I slid down an entire hill and came up covered in mud. I don’t remember specifics from the rest of the race but do distinctly recall thinking that 5 miles had never been so hard.
An hour and a half later (seriously! 1:27 something!), I finished and turned around to cheer Emmy in. Emmy and I have done tons of races together, so I have a good sense of when she should be coming in, but when 2 hours clicked by and she wasn’t there, I will admit to getting a tiny bit worried. Shortly thereafter, Emmy came around the corner and raised her hands over her head as she crossed. It turned out that Emmy had a few falls during the muddy section of the course. Once we’d banged the mud off our shoes, we vowed to never do a trail run again, a vow I kept until recently.
Rest assured that should things get rough tomorrow (it’s supposed to be cold and snowy), I will be thinking of Emmy and our vow!