Alumni Weekend Running

Last weekend was a cross country alumni weekend of sorts.  Many runners, past and present, competed in a local 5k, racing on either the current runners team or the alumni team.  Our scoring was cross country style, naturally.  The remainder of the weekend was spent eating, eating, reminiscing, and running, since, well, we are cross country runners.

On Sunday, the team visited the Mala Compra Trails (I've also heard it called HOBOS Trails) which was designed as a mountain bike trail.  I am not much of a biker, and I really have no idea how many trails like this exist in Florida, but I can say that I have never seen anything like it.  The trails twist and turn, rise and fall suddenly and constantly for the five and a half mile wooded loop. 

A few miles in, I got separated from the others since it was mostly the men's team.  I ended up exploring most of the trails alone.  Somehow I ran my first loop in about thirty minutes, so I clearly took a wrong turn somewhere.  It was difficult to get my bearings because of all of the little twists and turns, but on my second loop I eventually ended up on the other side of the park by a road and another entrance where a large map was posted.  Once I took a look at the image, it all made sense.  I hopped on the large and generally straight hiking trail and made my way back to the start. 

The run ended up being around 10. 5 miles, which was a little short, but my legs and hips certainly felt it.  It was a unique, fun, and challenging run.  I recommend going with a few people who are around your speed so that you can stick together and enjoy the crazy course.  It's great for distances from 5-8 miles, but a bit repetitive for much more than that.  Even though it was relatively hot outside, the trail stayed cool because it is completely shaded by oaks.  I can imagine that it would be very nice in the summer, as well.

Here is a video of someone biking the trail.  You can get an idea of how crazy parts of it are.

At the end of the weekend, it was sad to see everyone go.  Even though I had just met these people,  I felt like I knew them well.  We have many, many shared experiences, from running the same old routes, to trying Celebrex for hip pain, and ultimately knowing what it is like to be part of something so unique.  Only these few people know what it is like to wake up every day and be a member of this cross country team.  I am very excited to be racing with them next year and keeping in touch until then.

Winter Part II

Winter in Florida?  People may laugh and mock the typically mild southern weather.  Many move to Florida in order to skip the season all together.  The good news, in that case, is that where I live the temperature will likely rise to the upper seventies tomorrow.  Many others know, however, that despite the sunny skies and January beach weather, Florida most certainly has a winter. 

All one has to do is open his eyes.

When the crisp yellow-greens fade to deep ochre and lovely terre verte, I know the season has changed.  The early morning fog acts as a grey backdrop, making the oranges and deep greens even more vivid.  The greens still hold their familiar yellow undertones, but they have changed over the months that I have been away. 

                                        

As the temperatures drop to freezing at nights, I notice the pure whiteness of sandy trails.  Like snow, the sand crunches underfoot, instead of sucking my feet downward, making my stride more laborious.  With the new lightness of my feet, my eyes focus ahead.  Somehow, the sunrises seem even more brilliant against the cooler colors of the bald cypress and live oaks.  The changes in color may not be as noticeable as the dramatic fall foliage of the north, but, to me, it is equally as beautiful.

I have missed winter in the woods.  I missed the colors most of all.

Winter Part I

While home for a few days in December, I dealt with camera problems and then computer problems and all of the things that come with technology.  I didn't add new posts, even though I was out on the trails literally every day.  This is part one of two (likely) summarizing my winter adventures. 


When I return home, I find myself only revisiting the places where I have spent the most time in the past.  Even though I know the land, and I could easily drive a bit further to another park, there is comfort in returning to these woods.  In the end, I always manage to find something new to experience, so in a way, even the familiar can lead to adventure.

One Sunday morning, I set out to find a trail that I knew ran north to south, and then take it until it turned back west and hit the powerlines.  It was one of those foggy mornings when your eye lashes feel heavy because of the weight of the air.  Everything was the softest blue in color and even the sand was damp underfoot.  I took the path, but never found the bend, likely because it was overgrown.  What I did find, however, was much more exciting.

Just past where the main marked trail turns, a muddier path runs straight.  About one hundred meters ahead rests an abandoned bridge.  This bridge crosses the Anclote river.  The ramp on my side of the bridge was missing, long removed, to deter those on foot and vehicle from crossing.  Naturally, I climbed it.  If anything, I thought, I would rest for a moment and take in the view.  After admiring the slow moving river and the creatures in it, I pushed my way through the overgrowth on the opposite side to see what it was like.  The area had clearly been traveled, although the path of pressed grasses was not a maintained park trail.

I knew that crossing the bridge meant abandoning the planned route, but how could I  find a bridge and not see what was on the other side?  Well, it took me deep into the Anclote Tract of the Starkey Wilderness Preserve.  Once I was about a mile in, I knew generally where I was, but was convinced that it would meet a path I had explored a few years back.  It did.  But I turned around because I already hit nine miles or so and had only planned on running eight.  The path ahead, which would meander around  the park boundary following the fence line, was tilled by a tractor and I had no idea of the length back to the powelines.  It could have been a mile or five, if at all.  I decided to turn back.  There was no point in stressing my hips when the path back was generally compact with only a few miles of sand.  Watching the cars whiz by on SR 54 made me want to retreat back to the isolation of the woods anyway.

When I crossed the bridge and returned to the paths I know well, I literally crossed paths with an old friend.   My former coach and my brother's teacher was hiking alone on a trail not often traveled by those on foot.  I was so surprised  to see someone there, let alone someone I knew.  We said hello with pleasantly shocked expressions and went on our ways.  I would see him a week later on another path.  I guess we have similar ideas on how to spend our weekends.  There is no better way to spend a Sunday morning than deep in seemingly familiar woods. 

Lora Lane

I had heard that there were more extensive trails in the Brooker Creek Preserve at the end of Lora Lane, a few Streets away from the Brooker Creek Preserve main entrance and education center. 
The trail head was very easy to find, as it was literally at the end of the dead end road.  One side led to hiking trails, the other horse trails. 

I started with the hiking trails, which were off limits to horses and dogs.  They were primarily single track trails covered with pine needles.  They meandered around quite a bit and it was hard to get into a rhythm, but generally were easy to follow.  The loop ended up being just under two miles.  I still had quite a bit to go to get to five, so I took to the horse trails.  They were like Starkey's horse trails in that they were sandy, wider, and more open.  I preferred these, as I did a short out and back route and make it back to my car parked at the dead end street. 

The end of the road wasn't busy at all, so I was able to do a few strides to finish up the workout.

Typical to Brooker Creek, the trails are almost over marked.  It's not the place to get lost and wander, but if you are afraid of getting lost, then it is perfect since the loops are small and contained.  I'm not sure if they really allow runners on the horse trails, since they seem to only be for horses.  I felt fine running them on a week day in the early morning because no one was there.  I would not run there on the weekend when I'm sure it is busy.  It is some beautiful land and worth checking out.



I wrote this a while back, but my camera died and I didn't have photos, so here it is now with images (not the best since they are from a phone, but it gives you an idea of what it's like).

A little inspiration

Here's a pretty neat video that my teammate stumbled upon.  I hope it inspires you to go for a run like it did for me.

Twenty-Two

Today was going to be, if things went generally well, another point-to-point run.  This time, it would be thirteen miles longer than the one from this summer, back when nine miles was a post-injury accomplishment.  I didn't want to think about the added distance, though.  It just made it seem even longer.  Today was going to be my birthday run, and I was going to enjoy it, I decided, even if I was a little apprehensive at the start.

Early this morning, I pulled into the vacant parking lot of the Serenova Tract entrance to J. B. Starkey Wilderness Preserve.  Twenty two miles to go.

It was dark for the first few miles, but I knew the route and plodded along trying to find a rhythm in the blackness.  The sun started to rise around mile four, which made it easier to relax.  I wasn't as worried about tripping or stepping on a snake.

Shortly thereafter, I made my way to the Serenova powerlines.  This time, the powerline stretch seemed shorter since it was familiar.  Once I hit the Starkey paved bike path, I headed further east instead of west, like normal.  Overall, I felt really good for eight and a half miles of trails.  I was eager to make it out to the Suncoast Trail.  It had been two years since I had seen that side of Starkey. 

On the bike path, I felt strong.  I was ready to fly on the pavement.  During the last few miles on the path, I could start to feel my hip.  Even though those were easily my fastest miles, I was ready for the soft ground again.



I found the path that jutted off near a water station without much trouble.  This is where the unfamiliar paths began.  Of course, I wanted to go off and explore, but I knew that by the end of this run, I wouldn't want to have gone farther than necessary.  So, I stuck to my planned route and didn't get creative.

What I did discover along the way, though, was water.  Lots and lots of water.  My big mistake on planning this route was assuming that the water levels would be low enough to not get soaked when running through the lowest paths.  Oh, how very wrong I was.  Flooded Path 1 wasn't bad because it was shallow, clear, and flowing.  Flooded Path 2 was essentially stagnant and black.  The third was moving slightly, deep, and dark because of the depth (about calf to knee).  I had no choice but to run directly through the third at about mile sixteen.  There was no going back at that point.  I was on my way back to the powelines and my mile nineteen marker.

My favorite miles were easily the few just over half way.  The land was unfamiliar and vast.  The path was extremely wide, with tall golden grasses swaying on either side.  I felt small, a strange feeling, as I was dwarfed by the grasses inches above my head.  These miles seemed peaceful and relaxed.

Once the path pointed me back west, I picked up the pace again.  I knew that I needed to get back as soon as I could.  At that moment my legs felt strong, something I planned to take full advantage of.  The paths were grassy and firm underfoot and I felt great.  I knew it wouldn't last for long.

I hit the powerlines by my landmark pump-house.  Three miles to go.  Because I was drained and the trails were predominately deep sand, these were the most challenging miles.  My hips had a hard time, but I pushed through it, knowing how close I was.  These last miles went by surprisingly quickly.  It helped that I knew the land well.  This was home.  I was back.

Right now, hours later, I feel great.  I've certainly felt worse after shorter runs.  My hips are sore, yes, but it's nothing to worry about.  The strange thing was when I finished my toes hurt.  Twenty two miles and it was my toes that concerned me.  No worries, they are fine now.  I think the softness of the trails will help greatly with my recovery.

Overall, this was a nice route (even with the water), and I can see myself repeating it for future long runs.  It is definitely a winter run, unless you plan to go swimming as well.

Tomorrow, I think I'll take the day off.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 2010




Thanksgiving 2011


Both were beautiful, clear, cool mornings at Starkey.  The greatest difference is that this year I ran, pain-free and effortlessly.

I'm thankful for the woods, healthy hips, long runs, painting, pool running, my team, my coach, sunrises, and, above all else, my family.  They gave me the most incredible support this past year which helped me get to where I am today.