The Long Way Home

The mornings are early. The mileage has increased. I’m stocking up on gels like toilet paper in 2020. Yes, marathon training season is in full swing, and I’m in the middle of it as I prepare for my seventeenth marathon.

The menu called for 16 miles on Saturday. I woke from a dead sleep at 445am to meet up at the Crown Point trailhead by 530. During my drive into the sunrise, I witnessed some baby raccoons scurrying across the street. Then I came upon a family of deer, casually taking their morning stroll. It was already 70 degrees, and the air was so humid and thick, even their antlers would struggle to poke through.

I made it to the trailhead without any further wildlife encounters. I met up with my badass friend Erica, who only had ten miles on her agenda today. Her goal race is an 18 mile trail run (thus the badass label). In the soupy air, we ran and conversed. Our run took us around the local hospital, the fairgrounds, and looped the courthouse back to the trailhead. From there, it would be an out and back. We’d already done a little over six miles. Before she turned around, she snapped this selfie. I was on my own for the next ten miles.

Sweat and smiles!

Being it was a Saturday morning, the trail was pretty busy. Runners, walkers, and bikers politely filled the space. There were two other marathon groups out, including Fleet Feet. We all seemed to be collectively suffering in the humidity. When I got to just over five miles, I turned to head back to my starting point.

While I may run an obscene number of miles in a given week, I don’t like math. It’s even harder to do in my head when I’m trying to run and keep up a conversation. So if I already ran 6.3 and I need 9.7 more, divide that by 2, carry the one…so why does my watch look like I’m short .25 miles? The last thing I wanted to do was add onto my run at the end. I decided to follow the Fleet Feet runners down a side trail, and figured that I’d be able to pick up the main path again.

The short distance led me to a gorgeous neighborhood. The homes were beautifully maintained. There was a small lake with a fountain. It felt so peaceful. I figured I’d run through, make up the mileage, and hit the trail again. After all, everyone was out. Surely I’d be able to get back without a problem.

As I admired my surroundings, it started to drizzle. The light rain felt refreshing, even if I was already soaked to the bone in my own sweat. I kept running…and running… No signs leading me back to a trailhead. Finally, two runners behind me stopped to say hello. I asked them where to catch the trail again. They directed me past the water tower, which felt like a million miles away. By this time, my handheld bottle was almost empty. And of course there were no convenience stores within this beautiful subdivision to hustle up some hydration.

Finally, the water tower. Can I fill up here?

I eventually reached the water tower. I saw a dog park and a trail. But it didn’t look familiar to me. Perhaps I’d been distracted and not noticed it before. I stopped to ask the Fleet Feet crew if this was the correct route. They informed me that this particular path led back to Schererville, not Crown Point.

And at that very moment, the thunder rumbled. I was far from my starting point with little water, almost fourteen miles in, and the storm was coming. This was it. I was going to die on the wrong trailhead. While there were no buzzards flying around, I could picture them picking at my bones, my Garmin and sweaty clothes in a big wet heap.

I snapped back to reality when the Fleet Feet folks offered me an Uber (jokingly) and some water (seriously, and I was in serious needed). I gladly accepted, refilled my bottle, and thanked them more than once. They directed me towards the trail that I needed to get on. It meant I had to take a slightly busy and hillier street.

Luckily, the rain held out. Cautiously, I navigated the road. I was prepared to scurry into the grass if need be, just like those baby raccoons from earlier. Speaking of earlier, how long had i been out here for? It felt like an eternity. And then I saw the trail entrance ahead of me, populated with people I could have hugged at that moment (but who wants a hug from a sweaty stranger?). The stone marker welcoming me to Crown Point brought a smile to my face.

I ended with 16.88 miles. Drenched yet relieved, I plodded to my car to stretch out. The water in my car was warm, so I decided to visit the nearby Starbucks, aka, the Mothership, to get some ice water and a hot coffee for later. I went through the drive though and requested an ice water.

A young man’s voice crackled back, “Ma’am, our ice machine is on the fritz. We can give you a cup of water but we have to save the ice for iced drinks.”

“Is the water cold?” I desperately asked.

A pause, “Well. Kind of.”

“Kind of” sounded akin to “warm”, so I decided on a dragonfruit lemonade. I drove up to the window, and the young man behind the voice apologized for the lack of ice. I told him I’d just run a ridiculous number of miles, and that a lemonade would taste just fine. He then proceeded to hand me the lemonade plus a cup of water with some coveted ice cubes. So shines a good deed in a dark world.

My detour brought me more miles than I’d anticipated on a humid Saturday morning. I feel like it’s been a season of detours in my running: the slowdown of my aging body, stepping away from the YMCA, finding a new training group. Yet running has always brought adventures to my life that I wouldn’t have experienced otherwise. For that, I’m grateful for the long way home.

Ice, ice baby…..