Spokane River Run

When I reserved the camping site for the weekend , the pass was still closed and the weather was cold. making a trip to eastern Washington ill-advised at best. I was completely oblivious to the high potential for failure until a few days prior to the weekend, when I saw the news report informing all that the pass was now opened…

I was surprised at what an active town Spokane is. There were people out running, biking, river rafting, golfing, hiking and rock climbing. I ended up relying on many of these people for directions by the end of the run. The first two, a jogger then a biker, were needed just to get to the race itself. I arrived at the race with about 15 minutes to spare before the start of the race, I had hoped to get there earlier, but after 40 minutes of wrong turns I was happy to make it with any time to spare. It was the first race I have been to that didn’t have a line at the porta-potty…

AND WE WERE OFF…I took my usual approach and fell to the back of the pack. Slow and steady, I was feeling great. I haven’t been running on the trails for a very long time… “O shit, O SHIT!!! I haven’t been trail running since November!!! What was I thinking??!!?!?”
Already the weather was warmer than anticipated, felt like it was mid 60’s at 8:30 am, it promised to be a very hot day. I frequently forget that the forests in Easter Washington are much different than those of Western Washington. The trees are smaller and further apart, they don’t offer nearly the protection from the weather that I was hoping for.
Early on in the race, while running alone through a very quiet, flat part of the course, I heard a twig ’SNAP’. I looked over to find a wall of large men in camouflage with assault rifles slowly advancing towards the trail. Whoa. The race is held on the same weekend as the Army does practice missions in the forest. I am unaware of any other races that are able to offer this sort of entertainment.
I was feeling confident, the hills were tough, but in general the course was manageable. Then the course let loose on me. Hills got steeper in both directions, the trail became narrower, and the gentle forest floor was replaced by rocks. One particularly steep section dropped us into a rocky riverbed. Two arrows pointed me down the river, this must be the treacherous rock portion the race director warned us about. The rocks were big enough that I had to use my hands to climb over some of them, slide down on my bum to get back down to the ground on the other side. run through sand, navigate over unstable, wobbling rocks, and around small bodies of water. While the race director had warned us about an unusually dangerous rocky are, it didn’t seem like this could be it. The gentleman I found myself running this portion with was very upset, convinced we were lost. A few rock climbers informed us that we had missed the trail (apparently we weren’t the first to get lost). Back tracking, still no trail in sight, a hiker pointed us towards the little yellow arrow that was half hidden by brush. The adventure had only added another half mile to the course, and it was beautiful, I regretted not bringing my camera with me. I intend to make the same wrong turn when I do this race again (and I do intend to do it again), just so I can get pictures.
At the top of the hill we were faced with mountains of rocks. It looked like a rock quarry, medium sized broken rocks piled into mountains. A trail about a foot wide was stomped into the side of the rock mounds. Clearly, this was the death trap we were warned about. The rock pile seemed too steep to support a trail and falling guaranteed injury and offered the potential for serious injury with very little effort. I talked to the race director after the run, he said he fell on that section and cracked a few ribs and got pretty cut up. I decided to walk.

The trail seemed (yes, only “seemed” there were still plenty of areas you could hurt yourself on) less dangerous after the death trap, but it did get more difficult. I was 1/3 of the way through the run, Approaching the start/finish area that would mark the end of the first loop and the beginning of the second. I was feeling like this would be a good place to stop. I was worn out. I knew I would see John at the halfway point and he would help motivate me for the second half.

I saw a wild Turkey, I think…I know it was real, an improvement from the other things I had been “seeing” until this point.

I was thrilled to see John at the halfway point. He was so excited about his first trail run. His energy was palpable. In the matter of a few seconds I learned that he finished in 2:30 and is now in love with trail running, but thinks he needs trail shoes. there was more information, but I couldn’t process it as fast as he was telling me. I did catch a line he borrowed from “What About Bob?” (with a slight modification to fit the sport) “I’m a trail runner now, it’s pretty easy, I just let the trails do most of the work.” He kept telling me how tough it was. By now I knew that he had run what would be my second loop, I was not happy to hear it was difficult. I turned to someone who seemed to know the course and asked “is the second loop harder?” He shook his head vigorously while saying, “no, no, no, it is much easier.” And I was relieved, for a bit. Much easier it may have been, but the first loop wore me out.

I plodded along at my ‘half dead’ pace. The day had warmed considerably, and the second loop started in an area of baby trees that were no taller than me. I was grateful for the limited shade the adult trees provided. Like so many things, you can’t really appreciate them until they are gone. And I missed the shade. Although I was carrying a hydration pack, I still craved the water from the aid station. I had mixed my cytomax stronger than I might have liked. I grabbed a few cups of water and started throwing them into my face. A little boy commented “wow, you sure are thirsty!” Perhaps now is a good time to mention that this race was a fundraiser for an elementary school, and the aid stations were manned by kids from the school and their parents. They really did a great job. The kids were very excited and helpful, although I think the parents were essential to the actual functioning of each station (someone had to stop the kids from eating all the goodies). I always try to be friendly to the volunteers (because they rock!). but this time it felt more important that usual. I hoped that the kids would have a good impression of the sport based on the positive reactions they got from the runners. After all, that is why I started running.
And I was very polite when a little girl (2-3 years old) looked at me quizzically and asked “are you a girl?” I smiled and explained that “Yes I am a girl, I know it can be hard to tell since I have such short hair.” Her mother looked horrified, I was thrilled. More fuel for the blog. It did cross my mind that perhaps it is time to grow my hair out again.
It was hard going from there on out. I tried to keep myself laughing at the little girl’s comment, tried to tell myself jokes, but the truth was I was just worn out. I still had about 11 miles to go and there was no chance I would find anybody to distract me on the long journey to the finish. Running with myself had been a challenge for me in the past and once again it would prove difficult to keep myself moving while all alone.
I knew I was in trouble when I couldn’t run down the hills anymore. I could trudge along the flat parts, but when I saw the trail disappear in front of me I got worried.
Coming into the mile 7 (22) aid station the race director responsible for this half of the course wanted to know how I was doing and if I wanted to call it quits. His associate has a small 4 wheeler (which I want to call a buggy) that can bring me back to the start/ finish area if I need. I was determined to finish. I had a pace set out that was working for me and should get me into the finish around the time the course was supposed to close. I let them know as much and they cheered me on…but the seed was planted…
The next few miles I was falling off my pace. My legs were exhausted and sore. I was getting nauseous just from trying to jog the flat parts. I still couldn’t run up the hills and I couldn’t make up enough time on the downhill sections. And I knew they could come get me.
It took everything I had to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but I stayed focused and moved faster than the hikers who were now everywhere. It was too easy to keep slowing down, but having the hikers around provided a great point of reference. previously I had just been trying to move faster than the trees…

It has been a long time since I have given everything I had during a run. I like to tell myself that this is because I am trying not to re-injure myself, but I suspect that part of it is laziness. Getting back on the trails reminded me how fun running can be. I just feel so young and free in the trails. Playing like a kid.
But this kid was done. I decided to call it a day, only problem was the trails were narrow and mostly carved into the side of steep hills. I had to keep pushing until I found a place that the buggy could get to.

When I finally got myself to a buggy-accessible aid station, I sat down on a piece of cardboard and asked them to “call someone to come get me.” I smiled and was pleasant but they seemed concerned that I might be injured or sick or hungry, nope, “I’m just done.” The guy with the buggy let me know I had only 3.5 miles left and that the trail was ‘relatively flat’ and that they would keep the course open as long as I needed. but I was done. He said he didn’t want me to feel bad about not finishing so he just wanted to do anything he could to make sure I was making the right decision. “Clearly you haven’t met my ego, I assure you it won’t be damaged in the least by this.”
He let me run into the finish though, and I did take him up on that. It was very nice, but John was nowhere to be seen. I sat down and waited for him, and then it finally occurred to me, he was undoubtedly waiting for me on the trail. I told the buggy-guy this so he went out and found him and brought him in. he was waiting less than a mile from where I called it quits. I think I could have kept going if I knew he would be there to run me in. Ever without the last few miles though I was writhing in pain for the rest of the day and night. I was sufficiently sore the next three days. And I don’t feel disappointed in my decision to call it quits when I did. I made sure the race directors knew how much I liked the course, and the volunteers, and even the detour. and I assured them I would be back next year and that I would recommend their race to anyone who likes trails.