The rewards of getting lost in the woods

Though it rarely happens, I did get a little lost today. I parked on Meetinghouse Road and headed down the incredibly icy, steep hill. Though its been nearly 60 degrees lately, that hill is still covered with thick, slippery ice. Its nothing short of treacherous. I can see now why they keep that road closed in the winter. But, the (unpaved) road is gorgeous and its hard to believe that I'm just three miles outside of Amherst when I'm there.

I veered off Meetinghouse to head up to the Reservoir to take a look at things. The late afternoon sun was gorgeous, and though I had planned to stay at the reservoir for just a bit and then head back over to Buffam Falls, I ended up taking a little trail off the reservoir back up into the hills. The trail is unmarked and narrow, but I had been on it once before this winter when I was out cross-country skiing. I stayed on the trail much longer this time than I had before, and headed into the backcountry along private property markers and up and down rolling hills. The trail eventually petered out a bit, and my only option appeared to be heading down a small side trail and into some private fields that had formerly been cordoned off by a gate. But the gate was down, and I thought I could find a way back to Meetinghouse by cutting through the field. It wasn't meant to be: the field really was a dead end, and some guy on the far end of the field was watching me trespass on his land (had I been in Montana, the same guy would've gotten on his 3-wheeler and come after me or shot a gun or something). Fortunately this guy wasn't the type.

I got a little lost on my way back, as I took a wrong turn and headed back down to a creek which was very beautiful. I would've liked to have stayed and explored, but the sun was beginning to get a little lower in the sky and I had a kid to pick up from school. Another day.

Whether it was because I had a moment of being lost, or whether it was the exhilaration of running in a new place, I felt a certain freedom and lightness in running today that I haven't felt in months (or maybe even a year). These various injuries have bogged me down, and lately I have felt more like a trudger than a runner. But today, if only for a few minutes, I felt different. I felt really connected to the trail and connected to myself, if that's possible. I had a sense of who I was, and stopped worrying about who I should become.

It reminds me of a line from a new Melissa Etheridge song I heard on the radio the other day. I think the name of the song is Fearless Love. One of the verses says something like "I am what I am". Its a very simple thing to say, but its brilliant. I'm not sure I'm always ok with saying "I am what I am". But on days like today, if only for a moment or two in the middle of the forest, I can say, "I am what I am", and feel ok about it.

Sunny day on the Quabbin

One of my recent running discoveries is the Quabbin Reservoir. This probably shouldn't be too surprising given that we live less than 5 miles from the Quabbin, but for months I hadn't worked up the energy to actually figure out how to run there. But one of my daughter's classmate's father is a nature photographer and has taken tons of gorgeous shots of the Quabbin, so I finally asked around as to the best running place and drove myself out there to give it a try.

And I'm so glad I did. I've found a wonderful gate to park at (all the gates appear to be closed for the winter) and then I have the joy of running over two miles on a beautiful dirt road (without a living soul in sight) down to the reservoir. They view never disappoints. I've been there in driving snow and brilliant sunshine, and its always stunning.

The climb back up to the gate isn't an easy one. On the way down to the reservoir, its easy to forget that you are running downhill for the better part of two miles. The hills are gentle, and the forest on either side of the road is so vibrant that the gradual downhill isn't noticeable. However, on the return to the gate, you can feel every bit of the uphill for the better part of 25 minutes (for old slow women like me, at least). But still, the sound of the rivers and creeks and birds all around is enough to ease the pain of running up the hills.

During today's run, I began to think how an hour of running just doesn't seem to do it for me anymore. Its not that I want to run more exclusively to get in better shape (although this is certainly a part of it), but more that running helps ease my mind. And, the more I have on my mind lately, the more time I need to work all these things out. The past weeks have been filled with change on all levels--both personally and on the community-level--and its hard to figure out how all these things are going to play out. Running helps me figure all this out. It doesn't solve problems, but it makes it a bit easier to handle all the things running through my head.

Pig in Shit (PIS)

First, let me start by saying that we moved to the Amherst, Massachusetts area in September from New Haven, CT, and I am, as my good friend Brian says, like a Pig in Shit. I love trail running, and have found some unbelievable places here in the Pioneer Valley to do that running. This blog will be a celebration of all the beautiful trails I encounter in the Pioneer Valley, as well as whatever other random stuff I end of talking about.

As part of the 'celebration' to mark my 40th birthday, I've decided to do a 50-mile trail race in Vermont this September. I did attempt one ultra before--the Vermont 50K. I had the distinguished honor of coming in dead last in my age category among women. Now that I'm a couple of years older, I figure I'll move up the distance, and hopefully I can still take the award for dead-last in my age group. It really was an honor.

This weekend, I made my first real attempt at beginning to train for the 50-miler. I have no idea whether 7 months is a sufficient amount of time to get ready for the 50, but given it was a beautiful weekend in Amherst, I figured it was as good as time as any.

Yesterday, I parked at Atkins Reservoir and jumped on the Robert Frost trail and ran to Amethyst Brook and back. This run was probably right around 10 miles, and yet it took me 2:45 to complete. The trails were a mix of snow, water, and dirt. This stretch of trail is really quite difficult, at least in my humble opinion. I did bite the dust once, tearing a big hole in my $95 compression tights (do compression tights really work?). My knee bled something fierce, and the ligament around my knee didn't feel too great, either. It was a gorgeous day for running, and except for the one guy I saw a couple of times (poor bloke was lost), I was all alone. It was heaven. I took some nice pictures from the top of Mount Orient looking over to the Holyoke Range:



I read somewhere that if you're to properly train for an ultra, you've gotten do long runs both days of the weekend. I wasn't quite up to doing another long run first thing this morning, so I parked my butt instead at the Cushman Cafe and had a giant helping of French Toast and a side of bacon. I felt pretty good about this until a group of extremely fit looking runners came in (all decked out in Boston Marathon gear, I might add) and sat near me talking about running, Las Vegas, and Amherst politics. All they had to eat were little bitty muffins, so of course I felt crappy eating my giant breakfast. I slinked out of the cafe not too much longer, partially because I felt like a dough girl, but also partially because they stunk.

Today I parked at the Notch Visitors Center and headed out on the trail towards the lookout point (I can't remember what its called). The trails were markedly different from those on the Robert Frost. The trails at the Notch were snow-covered and extremely icy. The views from the top were great, but the footing was fairly treacherous and there were too many people around. Still, I managed to run about 1:15 with little effort, so that was good. I took a nice panoramic picture from the top (this is looking south towards Holyoke):

Though the trails up at the Notch are mostly great, I did run into one section that was particularly crazy. It reminded me of sections of the 7 Sisters Trail Race, in which you really do need to do hand-over-hand climbing. It does crack me up a bit when you look up to see trail markers cutting through rocky ledges:



So, with this post I embark on what I hope to be several months of great runs, and more importantly, great running stories with some good photos thrown in. Just six months and hundreds of miles to go...