Midnight 50K, the remix

My second attempt at a 50K post-polymyositis comes this weekend. My first attempt at Sylamore in February did not go well. Leg muscles locked up with about 6 miles to go. After having to repeatedly lie down on the side of the trail and wait for them to loosen up, I had to walk it in. I'm not certain, but I think dehydration played a role. This time I'll try to be a little more diligent with it, and try not to be too ambitious in the earlier miles. Especially since the forecast high in the area has hit triple digits. I missed this run last year, and was sad. It's a perennial favorite of mine. Something about running in your flashlight tunnel with the locusts pounding in your ears... it's a bit transcendent at times. Then again at other times, it's just plain hot and nasty.

One consistency I've noticed when toeing the line for longer events is a blatant uncertainty regarding what the next several hours will hold. Once again, I can confidently say that I have no idea what will happen. Nirvana? Despair? PR? A ride in the sag wagon? Which is interesting, because I am a very play-it-safe kind of person in real life. I love how recreation gives us an opportunity to lead double lives. To enable risk-taking in appropriate arenas. Leisure scientists refer to this as sensation-seeking. I call it "what was I thinking?" Or "I hope I'm laughing about this someday."

Catch you on the flip side.

K

Summer love

I'm lying in bed one night this week. Waiting to fall asleep, but it's not coming as easily as usual. Here's why:

I have a gi-normous chigger bite on my ankle that all of my willpower can barely resist. I can pinpoint the day and trail on which I sustained it. Arkansas forests are full of them in the summer.

I can't roll over very comfortably because I have a large burn on my shoulder blade. I learned the hard way that a hydration pack causes burns when worn without adequate coverage on a 21 (or who knows?) miler. It's in an inconvenient location, and I have a hard time keeping the scab intact. I'm embarassed that I didn't know how to handle my gear better.

I can feel my pulse in my toe. I bruised a toenail during the course of a long run, and pulled it off prematurely, almost like a loose tooth. It's gooey and raw. I wonder if I'll be able to get a shoe on in the morning. I wonder if I should cover it or give it air. Injuries to digits are disporportionately painful to their small size.

And as I try without much success to get comfortable, it occurs to me:

I love this.