Lost and Found in Plain Sight

"I'm really exhausted today, I'll just run with you." Uh oh. My running partner was tired, which meant he wanted to run with me and it also meant that I would definitely still struggle to keep up. We usually start and stop our runs together, or meet up halfway through a run, but his typical speed is nearly double mine so we really don't actually run together at all. I've written before about how I don't like running with people very much but I thought for a second and made a suggestion. "OK, that sounds great and could you show me how that right hand trail where the trail splits into three trails, over by the weird sign, you know, like how it links up with the Western Ridge Trail? Or is that the Valley Trail?" 

It is a weird sign, right? 

He raised his eyebrows. "You know, for a person who purports to have a good sense of direction, you have a really awful sense of direction." We'd been running regularly in Rock Creek Park for 15 months now and he was right. I get turned around in the woods nearly every weekend. Before our runs he'll patiently explain where he's going to run and where I should run. "Take this trail," he'll say, "and don't worry if you get lost because they all loop around." And I get completely confused and most often meet up with him, coming from somewhere totally random, far off the trail that I had planned on running. But I always have a blast and Rock Creek Park is in the smack middle of DC, so I don't worry because I'm never far from civilization. My handy google maps app has helped me from time to time as well. 

"Yes. I will show you." And we set out. The pace was such that Matthew was barely moving and I was hustling my ass off to keep up with him. At one point he reached the top of a hill, turned around and just started laughing at me. I laughed back with the very precious little breath I had left. It's a pathetic situation trying to keep up with him but it makes for a good workout. And a lot of laughs.

"Is this the Western Ridge Trail?" I asked. "Nope. I don't know what this one is called but it loops back around so don't worry." And then he took a left turn up another freaking hill and I called out, "Is this the Western Ridge Trail?" "No, it isn't. But we're going up to the top on it and then we'll connect to the Western Ridge." And so I found myself huffing it up a steep ass trail that had no name which we had run to from another trail that had no name and I realized I would never be able to understand where the heck we were. So I just followed him up the hill as fast as I could. 

I'd stop from time to time to get my heart rate down a bit. "I'm taking a couple of pictures so I have landmarks for when I get lost in here by myself," I called up to him. He shook his head and ran up the trail.   

 Trail markings in Rock Creek Park. These are easier to spot than the more traditional flash markings on the trees.

"I'll be right there, don't feel like you have to wait!" I tried to call out to him but it was more of a whisper as I tried to breathe and move and live. 

I made it to the top of this hill, turned around to catch my breath and saw this appropriately placed skull-n-bones staring back at me. 

Soon after we reached the top of the hill we were running along a flattish path and I was starting to feel pretty good, and Matthew once again took a left. "Is this the Western-" He cut me off. "OH MAN I'VE WANTED TO FIND THIS PLACE FOR SO LONG!" He shouted.

I turned left behind him and looked ahead to a clearing filled with what looked to be large rocks. 

My brain was still trying to figure out what it all was when Matthew disappeared through a hole in the rock wall.  Do you see him there in the middle far left of this shot? 

I caught up to him and he explained where we were. "I can't believe this is where we are!" he said. "I've run by here so many times and I've never realized it was here!" I still didn't know where we were. "It's so cool right?!" Yes, it was magical. But where in the heck were we? The only thing I knew was that we weren't on the Western Ridge Trail. At least I was pretty sure about that.   

It's a magical land of slabs of stone. I'm positive gnomes live here. 

Finally he explained. The stones were brought to Rock Creek Park from the US Capitol building, and they're the remains of the eastern facade that was renovated in the fifties. The sandstone and marble pieces date back as far as 1818. Some are huge plain slabs, others are ornate corner pieces. Some have decorative accents. Some are stacked into walls and others are piled high as if they were tossed there by giants. It has the quiet feel of a cemetery and the mystique of stonehenge and there's moss everywhere and interesting numbers and markings on the slabs and you could just climb around or take a rest for hours. 

It's a secret land of stones and moss in the middle of the city.

Some stones are marked with numbers, others carved with flowery accents.

We stayed awhile, enjoying the quiet and checking out as many details as we could take in, and I managed to catch my breath and get my legs back under me. Before too long it was time to set off again. We continued on, beyond the horse stables, we crossed a road by the Nature Center and then we took another left and Matthew said to me, "Clythie, this is the Western Ridge Trail." 

Let's Get Real: An Analysis of Virtual Racing & The Leap Year Dare

I never understood why people would run virtual races when there are real races to run. But I also never understood why people would watch 50 Shades of Grey when there are real pornos to watch. It was time to figure it out. 

Virtual races are similar to real races in that you sign up, pay a registration fee and receive some sort of race pack (likely with a bib, t-shirt and medal or some combo of those items) but when it comes time to toe the line at the start...well...there isn't one. You just race yourself when it's convenient. It might be on a certain day or within a certain time frame but you can race your race from wherever you want and pretty much whenever you want to get it done. 

It seemed like...well, like not the real thing. It seemed like "a run." Or racing light. Fake racing? But to be fair, I hadn't ever tried one before. The only way to try to understand the appeal would be to experience one for myself. I focused on the part about not having to wake up early. I'm all about sleeping in so that part sounded pretty good to me. 

I signed up for something called the Leap Year Dare. Instead of one race, it would be 5 races throughout February (2016 being a Leap Year), starting with 2k, then 4k, 6k, 8k and culminating in a 10k race on the 29th. For $27 I would get a bib and a medal and I would run 5 "races." For an additional $20, I could order a t-shirt. Sounded reasonable enough for my experiment.  

The first thing I did when I received my race pack was put the medal away in a safe place without looking at it. I'm not about to even touch a medal that I have yet to earn. That's bad racing juju.  The medal would stay stashed until I completed all 5 "races." 

Next, I asked a bunch of my friends if they'd like to join me. There was a lot of confusion. "Where is the race?" "Um. It's virtual. You run a certain distance each week, leading up to a 10k on Leap Year Day." "Ok, but where do we race?" "Anywhere - that's the thing, it's a virtual race." "This sounds weird." "How do we get an official time?" "Uhhh I think you just time yourself?"

I inquired with the Leap Year Dare Race Director, asking if we were to time ourselves and then report it somewhere, like, on line? Or were we to email our times to the RD? I received a really nice reply. "You can post them in the Facebook group if you want, but really it's just for fun. We don't record the times." 

This is the first time I heard someone say a race would be fun. Haha! There are a lot of things I love about racing, but racing is not fun. Racing is stressful and rewarding and challenging and tough and insanely exhausting. It would be for fun? And there would be no winner? This virtual racing thing was getting more confusing by the moment. But since I had already received the medal before even running a step of the race, I had to see it through.   

I glanced at the Leap Year Dare Facebook page the last week of January and discovered that we were actually supposed to complete the first "race" that week! There were 5 to complete so the first one actually began the last week of January. I rallied the troops. "Reminder that we have our virtual 2k for the Leap Year Dare this week guys!" My friend Isabelle was the first to reply, "If I run 10 miles does that count?" We were all still confused. We were to "race" 2k, or 1.24 miles. "Should we do this on the track?" "Can you "race" on a treadmill?" I didn't really know but we decided you could do whatever you wanted, whenever. That was the beauty of virtual racing, right? 

So racing was now going to be fun and there was no pressure and it was to be convenient? I mean, it sounded kinda good. But what happened in reality was that without any motivation I completely forgot about it, and the week was nearly over when I was like, shit! The 2k "race"! I have to do that! And by then honestly, I didn't really care. I can knock out 2ks in my sleep. I had already done several runs much longer that week, and now, in the basement of my apartment building I cranked up the treadmill and "raced" my official 2k. During the "race" I slowed down to take a phone call. Then I stopped to retie my shoe. I really wasn't in a hurry because there was no one around to race against. And when it was done, it was just...done. I snapped a pic of myself with my bib, cracking up.  I sent my friends a note. 2k race in the books, bring on the next one!" It felt silly and weird.   

Are you supposed to wear the bib? Awkward. But go me!

The next week was 4k, or 2.4 miles. I decided that if I was going to make something of this experiment, I had better revamp my plan of action. Instead of going into the 4k with no pressure, for fun, I would PR the 4k and even though I wasn't racing other humans, I would run the hardest I could for 2.4 miles. That worked a little better. I ran hard for 4ks and then rounded out the run with a couple more miles at a more comfortable pace. Then I hopped on my bike and went on a 12 mile night run around the monuments at The National Mall. "Race" two was complete. 

4k "raced" on a mild February DC day

For the 6k, I was up in Canaan Valley, WV, so I decided to XC ski that week's race. I mean, cross country skiing is as tough a workout as running and this race appeared to have no rules, so why not? I skinned up to the top of Mount Baldy as fast as I could and skied back down for 3.7 miles of virtual racing. 

I skinned up the mountain from all the way down in the Valley. In true virtual race form, I had the course to myself. 

I even took a little break at a warming hut on the way down - it's not like I was trying to beat anyone, right? 6k "race", complete. 

Why not take a little break? I seem to be the only one here "racing" anyway. 

By this time, the enthusiasm amongst my runner friends had dissipated both virtually and in reality. "Are you still doing that pretend racing thing?" "I ran a 10k race over the weekend - do I count that as the 10k even though I didn't count a 4k or 6k? Cause I forgot about those." Some had just stopped logging the distances. "Who cares if I ran 6k? Honestly I have no motivation to "race" when there isn't an actual race!"  

That was my problem too. This whole "convenience" thing really was not a motivator for me. I was conveniently forgetting about the "races" since I didn't have to do them at any specific time. Sure, I was running, but was I "racing"? I still wasn't sure what it all even meant. And I wondered how many people bought the virtual race packs and never actually got around to actually running the "races"? But I had two more weeks of "racing" to complete. The medal was waiting for me. 

I was in California for the 8k and 10k "races." 

The 8k was one of my favorite runs ever in my life, and completely unexpected. My boss and I ran the Greenwich Steps in San Francisco and had a total blast. Was it a race? Most definitely not. Did it really have anything to do with the Leap Year Dare? No. But it happened to be the correct distance and since no one else seemed to care, I counted it. 8k, done. There was one more "race" to go!

Leap Year Day fell on the first day of my conference. We had meetings scheduled from 7AM until 10PM. It was one of those non-stop days when you barely remember to catch your breath. I fell into bed exhausted after finally making it back to the hotel after our business dinner and then remembered today had been the day to "race" my 10k for The Leap Year Dare. I thought about going to the gym and jumping on the treadmill. Then I looked at my mileage tracker for the day and there it was staring back at me: 6.7 miles! I had walked, very quickly in fact, I would even say *racing* from meeting to meeting (in heels by the way) just a bit more than a 10k that day. Leap Year Dare was done! I had crossed the virtual finish line! I fell back into the soft pillows, settling my tired body into the bed, and wondered if I would ever recall where I had hidden my medal.   

The race was over and now I could try on my Leap Year Dare tee!

This is the back of the super cool Leap Year Dare shirt. I still haven't found the medal. 

My experiment was over. I had completed the Leap Year Dare. I earned my medal. But I still didn't understand the allure of virtual racing. So I decided to ask some experts. I put this question out to the Run the Year 2016 Facebook group - Why do you participate in virtual races versus real races? And I received more than 100 insightful comments. Some people didn't understand my question and they told me their reasons were "to support the charity" or "for the bling" or "so I can give my 'I Run 4 Buddy' the medal." I gently responded, "Right, but you can support charities and get medals at real races. What I'm trying to understand is why do you do virtual races instead of real ones?" This has always been the part that I didn't get and even after completing the Leap Year Dare, I still didn't understand. 

What happened next opened my eyes. And if you agree with the few who commented that they, like me, feel that virtual races are kind of a waste of money, or that they seem to be just the act of buying a medal to reward yourself for a run, take a look at 

The Top 12 Reasons Why People Run Virtual Races: 

I paraphrased the comments and analyzed them, and learned a lot!

1. I hate crowds. {Ok, yes, I agree. People are gross. Especially early in the morning. Very good point.}

2. I live in the middle of nowhere {Valid. Getting to races is tough even when you actually have races to be able to get to. If you live in a remote location, real racing might not even be a choice.}

3. My best friend lives across the country and we pick the same day and time. We FaceTime at the start and finish - We virtually race together! {I love this. This so cute and sweet and awesome! I want to do this with one of you or a bunch of you. It sounds really fun. Who will do a Facetime Virtual Race with me? I'll provide prizes from 2Toms!}

4. This particular virtual race has a unicorn medal {Yes, we know that unicorns are a high motivator, of course. Interestingly, more than one person said they race virtually for unicorn medals.} 

5. I use the virtual race medals and themes to organize real races for my kids. {Once you throw kids into the mix I'm not going to debate you. I can barely take care of myself. The idea that you would do this for your kids melts my heart. Love it.}

6. I am a soccer mom and we spend all weekend at soccer during the time real races are run. {Same as above. I would die as a soccer mom. Proud of you for even finding time for any virtual races at all after all that soccer.}

7. I hate port-o-potties. {YAAAS. This person wins.}

8. I live in Alaska. {Anyone who lives in Alaska is a badass to me and therefore I defer to your judgement on what is and is not awesome.}

9. I live on a remote island and cannot leave. {What?}

10. I'm doing 45 races this year for my 45th birthday and didn't want to take up that many weekends. {For real? You should be lying by the pool every weekend with that many races planned for during the week. Wow!}

11. When I was Active Duty I couldn't go to races so I ran virtual races. And I filled my candy jar with my medals. {Anyone who defends our freedom can race however she wants, and thank you for your service so very much.} {Side note: I bet I would be at my goal weight if I replaced candy with medals. Nothing tastes as good as a win, but actual medals taste awful.} 

12. I get annoyed by people who pass me in real races. {Cannot. stop. laughing.}

See? There are a lot of reasons to participate in virtual races after all! 

UNICORNS! 

We race with The Power of the Unicorn!

I'm not only glad I tried one virtual race (or five if you really think about it) but I'm especially glad I took the time to ask why others are drawn to this form of racing (and thankful for everyone who took the time to respond so graciously). 

I learned a lot. I learned that while virtual races are not my preferred kind of racing, that for some people, virtual races can be quite satisfying. I was glad to try it, to branch out, to experiment, to learn. And now if you'll excuse me, I guess I should probably try watching 50 Shades of Grey.  

Beat the Bride 10k

It was only a few hours before the Rehearsal Dinner and Pam was nervous. She had been getting ready for this day for months and now it was time to shine. No need to get nervous, she thought. It’s going to be just like I planned. The weather was right, the guests were gathering and it was going to all go off on time.

We were all toeing the line at the Beat the Bride 10k and Pam was doubling as Race Director and Bride to Be. And right now, she was ready to race. Sure, her wedding itself lay ahead a mere 24 hours from now, but first it was time to run.

Race Director and Bride-to-Be, Pammy P. 

Who plans a race as the kickoff to a Wedding Weekend that would include a gorgeous rehearsal dinner followed by an after party bonfire by the lake, (with a popcorn bar!), dozens of guests staying over in her family’s historic Inn that was the site of all of the events, culminating in an outdoor wedding with a reception that will forever remain one of the best parties ever in all the guests hearts?  

Our friends Pam and Gabe decided to plan the race to begin the weekend, to celebrate their shared love of running. They’re the quintessential work-hard-play-hard couple and they enjoy life at 110% in everything they do. It only made sense that we’d be racing a 10k and then racing to get ready for a cocktail party.

The Groom and me, at the race start.

First though Jeff and I were racing to the Inn. We thought we’d left DC in time but we knew it was going to be close. The drive took a few hours and there were just a few minutes to throw on running clothes and get to the race start. Jeff wasn’t running. He doesn’t run. “Hey, you know what would be funny?” he commented. “Huh?” I asked, half listening. I was trying to quickly change.  “If I put on running clothes and tell Gabe I have been training and that I’m going to kick his ass.” “Haha, Gabe IS competitive. He definitely wants to win this race. And he’s the groom – he kinda should, right?” I laughed. “Can I borrow some running shorts?” Jeff asked. “Huh?” Before I could even finish changing Jeff had put on a pair of my running shorts, paring it with some amazing purple wrist bands and, well, who knows why he had them with him, but he did and they worked. “I’ll just run the race too. I mean, otherwise I’m just going to have to sit around and wait for you guys.” This would go on to be a theme for him at future races, but right now I was slightly incredulous. “You’re going to run 6 miles? With us in the race right now?” “Yeah. Why not?” “Um, well, there are a lot of reasons why not, but let’s just go – we’re late.”  

We gathered at the start, Jeff told Gabe that his sure-thing win was in jeopardy, and off went the gun – we only had a 10k between us and the Rehearsal Dinner.

The race was flat and fast, slightly exposed in the spring sun and I ran with Jeff for awhile and then Gabe’s sister, talking about the weekend ahead and how much we love Gabe and Pam and wondering if Jeff was going to be able to dance at the wedding. The finish was down a gorgeous lane leading back to the Inn and we had just enough time to catch our breath before we saw Jeff running toward us, hair flying in the breeze.

Serious styling and running capabilities that he pulled out of...where? 

Jeff approaches the finish at Beat the Bride 10k

Pam and Gabe did win. It was their wedding after all. 

Bride and Groom 10k winners!

But we all received medals. And Jeff proceeded to wear his all weekend. 

Post Race, showing off our medals 

And later we danced and danced and celebrated the race and the wedding and life.  

Rehearsal Dinner. Still wearing the medal.

Give Me a Hand

One fine day at the beginning of summer, I broke fingers on both of my hands. 

And I know I look happy in the pictures, but that’s the tequila. The tequila was used as a painkiller after the accident, I swear. I became Edward Scissorhands Junior while completely sober. Flying off of the back of a jet ski. But that’s another story.  

After the tequila wore off I remembered I had a race in three days. Lawyers Have Heart 10k in my home city, Washington DC. Plus I had a friend coming to town to race as well.

I went to the Doctor. “You’ll need to see a hand specialist,” he said. “Surgery will likely be the best option.”

Surgery for broken fingers? I laughed and ignored him. How bad could they be? Don't they say you can’t really do anything besides wrap up broken toes and fingers? (Turns out they really just say that about toes but I was hopped up on a lot of painkillers and recalled the saying incorrectly).  Plus, I had a race. “I would advise against racing,” he said.

What? Who needs fingers to run? (Turns out you really do need to be able to curl your fingers to run comfortably, but I was hopped up on a lot of painkillers and really wasn’t thinking too well). 

Luckily lawyers really do have heart, because everyone at the race took good care of me and didn’t make fun of me in front of my face when I attempted to run, in pain and on drugs. And I did finish! I wouldn’t call it a race for me. It was more like a walk in the park, a sort-of-run-and-walk 6.2 miles with throbbing fingers while on massive drugs. But I think I needed to do it. I was a lot more worried about my fingers than I wanted to believe (“Surgery will likely be the best option.”) and I wanted to just not think about my hands. To try to be normal for a couple more days. As if I seemed normal with big braces on my fingers hopped up on massive drugs. But mentally, I needed it. I think I knew I wasn't going to be running much over the summer. That surgery probably really was the best option. I needed one last race. My finishing time was awful (Or a PR for First 10k on Vicodin depending on how you look at it) but I was glad to be with my friends, and to finish the race so I could then get to the business of figuring out how to fix my hands.  

The surgery was scheduled for two days after my birthday. During the prep, the nurse said to me, “Luckily the worst one is your left hand,” and then she looked at me for confirmation and when she didn’t receive it, she said, “Uh, unless you're left handed.” I am.

The week after the surgery, when I mentioned to my surgeon that I was going to Cambodia in a month, he was not super psyched. “I can get the plaster cast off of you by then, but keeping your hands clean is going to be really important. You'll still have pins in your fingers. You’ll have to keep your hands completely clean. You do not want to get sick in Cambodia.”

“Um. Is it ok to ride my bike? I’m going on a cycling trip in Cambodia.”   

“I would advise against that.”

"But I ran a race when they were still broken!"

"Clythie, I really don't want you riding a bike around Cambodia while you're injured."

Who needs ring fingers to ride a bike?

As the trip got closer I convinced (begged) my surgeon to change his mind. In the end we made a plan together. He would take the cast off and give me a removable splint and I would promise to wash my hands 1,000X per day, changing the gauze and applying Neosporin every. single. time.  “Be careful. You do not want to get sick in Cambodia,” he reminded me. 

The summer flew by in a haze of healing and as the end approached, I flew to Cambodia. When you arrive in Cambodia you receive a pamphlet that says, “When you become ill in Cambodia, only go to the following health clinics…” I tucked the paper into my bag and hopped a cab to a beautiful hotel in Phnom Penh and forgot all about it.

Cambodia is clean and dirty and smells wonderful and terrible, and it’s filled with lovely people who have lived through unimaginable atrocities who welcome Americans with kindness and love. It’s a place that overloads all of your senses with sights that you cannot believe exist outside of pictures. There are foods that make your tongue melt with joy and ones that make you scream with horror. But that's another story. 

Cambodia is all the things, and all the feelings and all the noises and all the sights and sounds and emotions all of the time.  It’s beautiful and ugly and happy and rip your heart out sad and there is laughter and kindness everywhere.

I felt so fortunate to find myself in this dream land, on a bicycle, headed out into city streets in traffic that can only be described as psychotic slow motion chaos, making my way with the bike from the city into the country onto and off of countless ferries and riding trails through farms and onto islands, stopping for amazing meals and to visit beautiful temples. 

At one point I was coming off of a ferry, climbing up the hill from the river, trying to make the bike work for me and I realized that I needed my fingers to get myself and the bike up the hill. I had to get off the bike and walk it over the crest of the hill.  I realized it was the first time that I had even thought of my fingers while on the bike.  I knew that it was ok, that I was going to be fine, that my hands were going to continue to heal. That sometimes having to walk when you're running is ok. Sometimes having to hop off the bike is ok. That the life experiences that surround these moments are what's really important. 

When I came home, I spent a few more weeks in the little finger brace, remembering the accident, and the fog of Lawyers Have Heart, the life changing experience of all that is Cambodia, and I knew my fingers weren't really ever going to be the same, but that was ok because I wasn't ever going to be the same either.