Finding peace, solace and an inordinate amount of pain in the woods...
(Post race, concerned the sweat on my beanie would completely turn into ice before I made it back to the car)
I’m trying to think of a reason that I participate in a 10
mile trail run in the dead of winter, other than the fact that a classic
Hitchcock film title is in the race name. Would I run the “Vertigo speed-walking
15k”? Actually…probably not. That sounds terrifying, for many reasons. Psycho Wyco,
the trail race I did participate in, seems tame by comparison. But it’s not
tame. At all. Somehow, magnificently, there’s a legitimately organized race
within the state of Kansas that isn’t
flat at all, and requires that the participant sign an electronic waiver virtually
bleeding out of the computer, with words and phrases such as: potentially hazardous activities; icy
surfaces; poison ivy, wild animals, may cause serious bodily harm; broken bones
and even death; high winds; and “other” issues beyond our immediate control. Within
context, what frightens me most is that with all they warn you against, they
still thought it necessary to include a blanket “other” issues beyond their
control. Like the “coffee may be hot” precedent, you know something severe and
nasty had to have happened for this to be present. I’m thinking at minimum a
buzzard attack, or some sort of flesh eating bacteria. The waiver, in long form, is at
the bottom, for your review and amusement.
In spite of authoring the most intimidating and unintentionally
humorous legal document since the Ten Commandments, the Trail Nerds know how to
organize a fun race. Which is why they can attract over 600 people year after
year to Wyandotte County (of the Wyco) Lake Park in the middle of February to
run a loop that sports just shy of 1,000 feet of total elevation. And while you
may think that’s psycho, some boneheads go around twice. In shorts. And for those that don’t
respect their bodies or the Earth, there’s the 50k option, three loops. Beyond
insane bragging rights, the only benefit that I see of running 20 or 30 miles
is that you begin at 8am, while myself and the rest of us who totally know we
could run farther but only feel like running the 10 that day, have to arrive at
8 (for parking reasons) and wait for an hour while our fingers and toes congeal,
evolving from distinct individual frozen digits into one giant cube per extremity. Ice
blocks on two legs and two arms equals four total, which was precisely the
temperature at the start of the race. Not a great omen for a guy who keeps a spare
jacket in his car – because you never know when you’ll freeze your ass off.
(A happy group of 10 mile finishers, all Garmin employees)
It took one mile before my fingers began tingling (and for
clarification purposes, this was not the “good” type of tingling), two before
my face thawed out, allowing me to talk in a manner slightly more cognizant
than early cavemen, and finally, after three miles – roughly thirty three minutes
after the start of the race - I could wiggle the little piggies within my shoes,
even if felt like they survived a close call at the slaughterhouse. When I wasn’t
actively using them to circumvent frozen horse tracks, that is. Part of the
charm of Psycho Wyco is that the majority of it takes place on a bridal trail. When
it rains, it’s a sloshy mess; when it’s frozen (as it was this day) it’s like
running over a bed of hot coals. The only way you’re off the hook is
when it snows six inches or more, like last year. But then you have to deal
with…well, six inches of snow.
And that’s the charm of this race. You never know what the elements
have in store for you. You know that the course is a 10 miles loop with roughly
1,000 feet of elevation. You know that there will be trees and low-hanging
branches and dirt, rocks and leaves. You will sweat. Your quads will scream.
How much you sweat, how much your legs hurt, how close you come to falling all
depends on the elements. I’ve run the course when it’s semi-muddy, frozen and
with snow. Each time, I witnessed someone wipe out. Hard. A dry day means that
wipeout comes in the form of stubbing your toe on a tree root and face-planting
forward. Seen it happen twice. A muddy day will have you lose your footing,
sending one leg chest-high, resulting in a mud streak from knee to butt. That
was my homie, Reid. When it snows, you’ll lose control going downhill, panic-skate
a few feet before banging your knee on a tree, rotating 275 degrees, falling
backwards on the trial. Yours truly.
When the dude I was following wiped out a-la-Pete Rose
sliding head first into home, I was put in the delicate position of distinguishing
if he was injured or just embarrassed (as if I could have actually done anything were he hurt - the image of me fireman-hauling another male adult out of the woods should really make you laugh...I know I am). He motioned for me to keep running as I instinctually
bent down to help him up, so I kept on moving. Same move I’d have made,
regardless of how I felt. I respected that, but when I caught him limp-walking
as I zagged past him, back uphill, I knew the full story. It’s a short story.
Dude fell on a trail. Dude hates his life. It happens. The end.
(I wore reflective mittens, of course, so they could identify me if I fell into a ditch)
My legs had a mini-rebellion around miles six, seven and
eight - together they formed an impressive and formidable axis of evil. A long,
winding and very fast downhill scurry was followed by an equally long, winding and
super-slow uphill slog. At times I jogged slower than a walk. When I wasn’t
flat-out walking, that is. One switchback turn actually required a rope to pull
me up. Another, an iron rod in the ground that I used as leverage to pull up my
body mass, legs tiring and less responsive by the step. The usually crisp connection between my brain and body now felt like it was reverting back to my early childhood, when all I required was string and two soup cans. To wit, I could tell my legs how I wanted to delicately navigate around a rock, yet I would inevitably end up lifting my foot just high enough to scrape over it, shifting my gait awkwardly as I stumbled the next few steps. Whew...crisis (still, but barely) averted.
My strategy was somewhat successful. Try to maintain control
on the downhill portions, focusing on not turning an ankle. Use common sense
going uphill, walking when necessary, though keeping up the running motion whenever
possible (an extremely subjective term, intentionally). Feel out the rare level
portions of the race, and push the tempo whenever possible. My goal was not to
beat a particular time; my goal was to finish the race standing up, body
(relatively) intact, feeling good about the day’s effort.
My secondary goal, and another motivational factor, was munching out at the finish line. Without
a doubt, Wyco has the absolute best post-race spread of any race I’ve
participated in. There’s cookies, pretzels, M&M’s and these little muffins
that have unidentifiable flavors from fruits that come from countries where
they don’t speak English. They had PB&J’s on tortillas. They even had Nutella on tortillas. What! Soup and chili as well. Packets of chocolate and pomegranate
flavored energy gu. Coffee, Coke, Mountain Dew (this one had me scratching my
head, other than the fact that experts say caffeine’s good for you after a
vigorous workout), Gatorade and water. And unlike the Dixie cup of Gatorade I tried
to drink during the race, this one was not entirely frozen. They even had Ibuprofen,
because it’s never too soon to begin fighting the pain. Had my sweaty hair not
begun to quite literally freeze upon removing my beanie, I would have stayed
much longer than I did, enjoying the food and camaraderie with all who finished.
(Victory pose. This looked much cooler in my mind than how it actually turned out)
I know that when I conquer Psycho Wyco, I have a free pass
for the next couple of days. And you bet that I overcompensate by eating way too
much food, junk food and candy. I drink too much beer…you know, for the carbs.
I take it easy until my muscles loosen up again. Robe it up all day Sunday,
watching KU hoops and Criminal Minds
reruns. Wear comfy shoes and compression socks to work Monday. Double dip on
whatever food is free in the communal area (typically donuts, bagels or
chocolates). I follow this pattern for at least three or four days, before I go
on a 3 or 4 mile “recovery” jog, mostly out of guilt and a desire to continue
my slovenly ways, if just for another night. Probably not the best form of motivation,
but I can’t be the only person on the globe that is motivated by a cupcake, not
a carrot.
See my run at: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/149335473
Read Rebecca's version of the events at: http://garmin.blogs.com/my_weblog/2012/02/pegs-posts-psycho-wyco-2012-race-recap.html
Full Psycho Wyco Waiver:
I know that running and volunteering in running events are potentially hazardous activities. Trail running can be hazardous, and I am fully aware of that fact. Trail running can have additional hazards, such as: low hanging branches, loose rocky surfaces, surface roots to step over, deep mud, icy surfaces, tight clearances between trees, poison ivy, wild animals, and other hazards that may not be encountered in a paved road race. I assume all risk associated with these activities. I hereby waive and release, for myself and anyone entitled to act on my behalf, the Kansas City Track Club, the Road Runners Club of America, the Trail Nerds Association, and all sponsors and race officials from all claims of any kind arising out of my participation in this event. In consideration of the foregoing, I, for myself, my heirs, executors, administrators, personal representatives, successors and assigns, waive and release any and all rights, claims and courses of action I have or may have against the "Run Toto Run" Trail Run, and its affiliates, the Kansas City Track Club, the Road Runners Club of America, the Trail Nerds Association, the City of Kansas City, the County of Wyandotte, the State of Kansas, the Unified Government of Kansas City Parks & Recreation Department, their agents, employees, officers, directors, successors and assigns, and any and all sponsors, their representatives and successors, that may arise as a result of my participation in this "Run Toto Run" Trail Run event and any pre- and post- event activities. I understand that this event may cause serious bodily harm including cuts, bruises, concussions, allergic reactions, broken bones and even death. I attest and verify that I am physically fit and have sufficiently trained for the completion of this event and my physical condition has been verified by a licensed medical doctor. I understand fully that race management can remove me from the race for any legitimate reason they see fit. Be aware that the director(s) and officials of our race event(s) or the local Parks Department Staff may postpone or cancel said event(s) for safety reasons due to severe weather, high winds, near-by lightning, or "other" serious safety issues or park business. We are not responsible for safety-related, weather-related, and "other" issues beyond our immediate control, including trail closures. Further, I hereby grant full permission to any and all of the foregoing to use any photographs or video coverage of this event for any legitimate purpose including event advertising. By signing below, I hereby acknowledge that I have read and fully understood this waiver.
