Back in January, my non resolution self made a resolution. After reading an article written by a guy that had run the 30-mile Wildwood Trail in Forest Park, I decided that I would do that. Running in the woods brings me joy and peace. At the time when I made the resolution I wrote "I need an adventure to call my own. One that feeds my soul." And, typically, once I speak something out loud, I can't turn back.
So yesterday at 8 a.m., in the rain and with my support system firmly in place, I was dropped off at the northern most end of Wildwood and my journey began. It would finish roughly 6 1/2 hours later, amidst cheering, festivities, and tears from me at the end near the Oregon Zoo. When I was texting with a friend later who asked me how it had gone, she said "I can't wait to read what you write about it later." And she is right, the best way for me to process what transpired in those 6.5 hours is to put it down here.
Many people who run the Wildwood trail choose to start at the southern end because there is a brutal hill up to Pittock Mansion that falls early when you start from the south but comes at 25 miles when you come from the north. I knew this but something made me want to start from the north. I wanted to end in the city. So I started in the less traveled north amidst a light rain. The first 5 miles were lovely. I listened to my playlist that included many songs that friends and my kids had contributed to. I was able to stay upright and was glad to have the adventure started. I couldn't look around as much as I had hoped because the new rainfall meant a slippery path and I didn't want my adventure to end as quickly as I started.
My first checkpoint was 5.5 miles. I was on "schedule", in one piece and grateful for the Gatorade and encouragement. I continued on feeling hopeful. My ear pods turned off a couple of miles later. I knew this would happen but figured they would run out of charge closer to 15 miles not 6. I wasn't prepared to spend time in the quiet with my thoughts only this early on. So, I pulled out the portable charger, started charging them and since I was still relatively alone, played my music just from my phone.
Those first 12 miles I spent a lot of time thinking about this past year. When I made this resolution, COVID, social distancing and masks weren't part of our every day discussions. I didn't know I would be wearing a mask on this adventure that I would make sure was on as I was passing others (of note, I went through three on my run and all of them ended up shredded). We didn't know about online school, wildfires, toilet paper shortages and that we should be hoarding clorox wipes. I did not yet know how much I had to learn about racial injustice and my own bias. I knew I would have a child leaving for college in Rhode Island and my life would change dramatically as a result, but that's all I knew - and even that didn't end up being right. He is now happily planted in Valparaiso, Indiana. Oh all the things we didn't know in January. So, as I ran along the trail I thought of how grateful I was. Grateful for my health and that of my loved ones. Grateful that the air was not smoky and forest park was open. Grateful in the midst of the chaos of 2020.
I reached my second check point around mile 14. Still on "schedule" and in one piece. I was starting to notice my ankles and some minor pains. I hungrily ate a peanut butter and jelly and continued on. What came next in the six following miles before my next checkpoint was a slow overtaking of my body. My thoughts were no longer as reflective and peaceful. I started to hurt. The time between miles extended. I might have scowled at a hill or two.
What kept me going was knowing that if I could just make it to my final checkpoint at 21 miles, Jenny would be there. Jenny had agreed to run the final nine with me. I knew she was the one person who could encourage and/or drag me through the final 9 miles. Living in Eugene, I don't get to see her as much as I would like so I would get 9 miles of her just to myself...if I could get there. It wasn't pretty but I made it. I refueled and we were off. Well, actually Jenny was off until she realized what was happening. At this point I was at more of a shuffle. Each time I stopped, restarting was becoming harder and parts of my body were yelling. Without missing a beat she said, "you sent the pace. I will follow." I, of course apologized for the slow pace which she replied "okay, that's your last apology" and off we went.
We spent the first few miles catching up - which was a great distraction for me from my body. She is a teacher so I wanted to hear firsthand what that was like. That's an entirely different post but I so feel for all the amazing teachers - as well as parents and kids - in the midst of this. This is not sustainable. But, I digress. We chatted, laughed and I cursed at any incline - because she gave me permission to. But then that hill came. The hill that most people try to do in the first part of the run....that one. But I was on mile 25 and not feeling all that great. And there it was. IF you have done the Pittock Mansion hike, it is no joke on fresh legs. Nothing about me was fresh. My going up that hill was not pretty. There was walking. There was cursing. But THERE WAS JENNY. "We can do hard things." "Small goals." "Just to the tree." Every time I stopped, she stopped. We got to the top where Pittock Mansion was and she has never been up there. At this point, what does ten more minutes mater? We jogged/shuffled over to the viewpoint, ohhhhd and ahhhd, snapped some pictures and continued on. I would love to say after the hill all was great and I sailed into the finish line. That would not be true. I walked, got frustrated, ran...but Jenny was there every final painful step of the way. On a couple of occasions she even yelled to the fellow hikers "this lady is on her 27th mile! Let's clap for her." This is why I chose her to do that last stretch with me. Time and time again she has sat with me in the dark and reminded me we can do hard things.
We made it. And at the bottom were posters, cheers and people that love me. Even Mason was there - face timed in for the finish. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I had done it. They had believed in me every step of the way and were proud of me. It was beautiful, hard, painful, ugly, joyful, peaceful and freeing. I am better for it and reminded of all that I have to be grateful for.
During those first few reflective miles I thought about different ways I identify myself:
Mom, daughter, friend, nurse, learner, believer, reader, writer, runner, nature lover...and yesterday I got to add more...ultra marathoner. Who would have thought? Thanks for being part of the journey.
