How to Run Faster

So what is a new runner who has just completed her first 10K to do?  Why, sign up for a half marathon, of course!  Crazy Ass and I set our sites on the Canyonlands Half Marathon in Moab, Utah.  Moab is home to Arches and Canyonlands National Parks.  The race route descends the Colorado River Canyon where a brilliant blue sky serves as a back drop for rust-colored spires of rock.



Moab

With breathtaking scenery and a downhill course, the race is a first-timer's dream.  Training to run 13.1 miles, not quite as dreamy.  It amounts to putting on some miles.  And then adding some more miles.  Pretty soon, a five mile run is your "easy" day.  Eventually, you know every quarter mile of the local trail like the back of your hand.  And you get faster.

One summer afternoon, Crazy Ass and I were completing a seven mile run on the local bike trail.  We had decided to include some hill work; so, our route consisted of a part of the trail that sloped down next to a river.  As we approached the river, we noticed what had to be a rabid dog barking fiercely in our direction.  His owner was holding tight to his leash.  Crazy Ass and I looked at eachother and moved away from the dog toward the other side of the trail.  We intended to run in the grass to get as far away from that freaky dog as possible.  As we got closer, the owner pointed across the trail and said "Look out.  There's a snake."  Expecting a garter snake to be slithering through the grass, we looked in the direction he pointed, a mere three feet away from us.  What we saw was more than just a snake.  Coiled there, ready to strike, was a diamond back rattlesnake.  Did I say it was a mere three feet away?  Without a word, Crazy Ass and I did an about face and began sprinting in the other direction.  My heart was pounding.  I don't think we had seen that kind of pace yet in our training.  That lovely spot by the river became section of trail we would not be running again any time soon.

Scary

Scarier

On another occassion, Crazy Ass and I got up early to run on a long, flat section of the bike trail - in shall we say... not the nicest part of town.  It was a little frosty; so, we were wearing snow hats and gloves.  Out of the blue, Crazy Ass punched me in the gut.  "Did you see that?" she asked.  "What?" I asked her, not quite understanding what could be so important she had to assault me.  "The homeless guy," she said under her breath.  I glanced behind me.  Sure enough, curled up in his sleeping bag, right next to the trail slept one bearded, grungy looking dude.  Now some of you see this sort of thing every day, when you are surrounded by people who will hear your screams in a city of a million people or more.  I, on the other hand, live in a town of 75 thousand where we house homeless families in local churches and feed them supper while our kids play monkey in the middle with their kids.  Seeing a guy lying next to the bike trail is right on par with seeing the boogey man.  My mind immediately went through the miles of trail we had already run...  lined with trees that surely must have obscured similar boogey men.  My step quickened to a sprint.  Crazy Ass and I achieved yet another personal best pace for our training.  During the weeks that followed, someone new accompanied Crazy Ass and I on our runs.  Her cop boyfriend now rode behind us on his bike.  Who knew we needed a body guard?

Some say they will only run if something is chasing them.  Having increased my pace at the mere thought of someone chasing me, on at least two different occasions, I can see their point.  Sure, it hadn't been the most conventional of training plans, but our fight or flight mechanisms had surely been put to the test.  Oh yeah - FLIGHT definitely wins (but we have a pretty BA body guard if that doesn't work!).