Choose Your Own Adventure

Cockiness is a directionally challenged runner’s demise.

For the past month or so, I’ve been running the trails every Tuesday with a group of favourites. I’d run this route four, maybe five times total. The first two or three times I’d had Miss Hills (also known as Speedy Hill Hero) guiding me, but last week Miss Hills was MIA, and the others not so keen to go speedy. And so, I cautiously ran ahead and stopped at every turn awaiting direction on my next steps. This week, however, (Miss Hills still MIA) I was not so cautious.

All smiles when I stick with the group.

It didn’t start out that way. I had intended to run slower today, I had even started out purposely running behind the group so as to prevent my feet from charging up the hills as they, for some crazy unknown reason, some times like to do. I’d done speed intervals yesterday, today should have been a recovery style run.

No slacking off on early morning intervals with this wee drill sergeant!

But then there was that hill. It was a long hill, seemingly never ending hill, the kind of hill that taunts you upon approach, where you can almost see the imprint of a tongue blowing raspberries at you in the dirt. And dammit, I refused to let that hill beat me. With Miss Hills in mind, I charged that sucker, wiping that teasing tongue right off its dirty face.

I kept going.

Before long, I could no longer hear the light conversation and heavy breathing of my favourites behind me. It was just me and the trails. This time, I didn’t even think twice about stopping, I figured, I had this, it was a whole lot of rights, a few lefts, there were uphills, downhills, a bridge, open spaces, I was good to go.

But there was a fork. This fork, like all forks, had three Choose Your Own Adventures. The first adventure was the WRONG one. It took me about five minutes, maybe less, to realize I’d made the wrong choice. I turned around, tacked on another hill to my distance and made my way back to the fork. The second adventure I chose, pretty sure that too was the WRONG choice. Again, I made my way back to the fork where there was a map and pretended I could actually read the map and understand where I was and where the hell I needed to be. NOTE: I could not!

“Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road…”

Did I mention, I was in the trails? Did I mention, I forgot my phone in my car, which at any rate probably had no cell service in the thick of the bushes? Did I mention, this was an evening run, the sun would eventually be going down? Did I mention, the sounds rustling through the trees nearby, and my thoughts of bears, lions and cougars, oh my?

Holy frick, I was freaking out!

It was all a green and brown blur spinning in my head.

I finally asked a kindly looking old man with a golden retriever, who I silently hoped wasn’t a serial killer, to help me with the map. I pointed at it and said, “I think this is where my car is, how do I get there?” He gave me directions, thankfully did not chop off my head, and eventually I did find my way back to my car, coming out of the trees in the complete opposite direction to where I should have been. D’oh!

Once again foiled by my non-existent directional sense!

5:45 p.m. BG before: 5.6
Carbs: 1/2 cup applesauce (12g) and 1/4 cup almonds 45 minutes before, plus 3 dried apricots 10 minutes before.
Temp. basal: -30 per cent (1 hour)
Distance: 5.5 km hills
7 p.m. BG after: 4.9
Temp. basal +30 per cent (1 hour)

* Note: All pics taken were from last week’s run.

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