Death by a Thousand Paper Cuts

ouch. Been a minute since I’ve “raced” like this.

If you know me, you know it’s been a minute since I’ve taken to the keyboard for a race report, too. Some say I was good at this. Maybe better at writing them than running them. The short, easy answer is that it’s been a while since I have really “raced.” A longer answer could go deep and no one cares about deep, so…

I struggled with the title of this recap. When I saw this race photo from the race photographer, I was like, “Well…hello, hairline.” and that was going to be the title; but alas the paper cuts thing won out in the end.

Bear with me, like I said, “been a minute…”

Fresh as a daisy moment, Swamp 30K, Graham Swamp Trails, Palm Cost, FL.

The Swamp 30K has no swamp

When I read “swamp,” I thought of the many coastal races I’ve done that were smooth, flat, and fast; but, I didn’t want that. I wanted exactly what the race description promised, “hills.” and lots of ‘em.

but in Florida? On the coast? Prove it.

Careful what you wish for…

The course runs on a 10K mountain bike loop on the Graham Swamp Trail. Being a 10K, that means running 30K required running that 10K loop three times in a row.

No bigs, right? Look below.

There is no way the 285 feet of elevation gain and loss is accurate, but I wouldn’t care if it was because that wasn’t the challenge. The challenge was the constant up and down of this course that just kept chipping away at runners over and over and over. It would be MUCH easier to climb 285 feet in a matter of a few minutes than climb 15, and descend 15, over and over and over, for an hour. Three separate times.

Loop 1 - This is easy. Got this all day…

First loop was a breeze. Never creeping out of zone 2, my heart rate stayed easy, my calves loose, and my head happy. It was sunny and cool, and I felt fantastic frolicking on the trails like Little Red Riding Hood.

There was an aid station three miles in, so I topped off my fluids and took off to complete the first loop.

“Wait, this back half is a little harder…”

“Wait, this back half feels longer…”

“Wait, is that the finish?”

“Where in the Hell is the end of the loop?”

I started feeling like typical Christian was creeping in, “dammit, am I lost again?”

I heard laughing. People. Chatter.

“Cool, I’m close…”

{{{5:00 later…}}}

“Where did all the sound go?”

“Why am I still running?

“Did I miss it?”

The crap we say to ourselves is funny.

As I would find on subsequent loops, true to the nature of mountain bike trails, the course changes directions often and dramatically. The trail would come so close to the end of the loop making all the sounds of the finish area come alive, only to then change directions and take you back out into the woods. Back to the quiet. Back inside your own head.

Loop 2 - Hmmm, that got my attention…

I finally completed the loop, but rationalized in my head that, “dude, you’re still in Florida, you’ll be fine.”

And by the time I reached those awesome ladies at the mid-loop aid station, I was still in good spirits.

“You are making good time.”

I certainly didn’t feel like it, but no one had passed me yet, and I clipped a few folks along the way, so at least I knew I wasn’t last :)

But that second half of the loop, man... The first time around, I got a little aggravated, but this second time, I found myself cussing. I drained all my fluids, the heat was climbing, and let’s not forget, I am draggin’ 30 lbs of extra fat and way out of practice.

Completing that loop felt like a real win.

Loop #3 is gonna’ suck.

Loop 3 - Basically, a sight-seeing tour

“Whoa. I’m hurtin’”

For where I am in my current training, I was now pushing it. exceeding the 13 miles I ran at the Donna Half-Marathon, and shocking this 220lb mass-monster carcass with yet another 10K to go.

My run became a shuffle.

I started tripping over roots. That one, sure sign the wheels are falling off.

There were times when I would laugh at myself for this pathetic running motion I was doing while barely moving.

“Just walk, dude…”

And I did.

And many times it was faster than that arm-flailing pretend run I was executing to feel good about myself.

As usual, my mood picked up after visiting the mid-loop aid ladies (and dude). Absolute gems, these ladies. Upbeat, full of great food options for fueling and electrolyte fluids for hydration, and most importantly, hella encouraging. The athletics is always the best part of an event, but this crew was a close, close second.

But instead of getting frustrated with that challenging back half, I embraced it.

I started thinking of my friend Kid Kahrs, or, Matt “Matty Stacks” Kahrs as his Atlanta friends called him, and how cancer gobbled up the un-gobble-up-able and took a beautiful soul from the world.

He would have won this race without trying.

Then would have come back to find me and run me in, too.

I thought of Eric LeClaire, and a ton of other names none of you will know but do know just the same.

Those who would love to be out here. “Suffering,” is not the right word, because in reality, I wasn’t.

I was living.

They aren’t. And that sucks.

So I appreciated for all of us.

And then I quietly finished.

I snuck in so quietly, I had to go ask for my finisher medal to give to Kai.

I beat half the field, and half the field beat me.

Sounds about right.

Thanks to all of the race organizers, the amazing volunteers, and even the dude who came up to me at the finish with that quintessential comment I seem to ALWAYS get at the finish of every race I run - “Whoa dude, you look more like a linebacker than a runner.”

Yea? Well, where’s MY Taylor Swift?