The Good
I’m continuing my training streak into week 3. It’s day 5 and I’ve ran everyday the training plan called for it. Today is the seventh day of a new streak—a full week!
Tuesday was the first training run for the week. An easy 3 miles on the nearby county road. Being a short run, I opted to wear my new “minimalist” shoes1. I absolutely love them! Primarily because they are so light on my feet.
I had worn them a couple of times and wasn’t too sure about them. Just walking around the house in them I felt an uncomfortable pressure on the outside edge of my sole. Due to the lack of cushioning I’m used to, I’m sure. I made a bigger commitment to test them on my trip to volunteer at the Grasslands Trail Run. I wore them while loading and unloading my car and during the three hour drive to Decatur. I rarely noted the pressure that time.
Tuesday evening was perfect for a short training run. Crystal clear blue skies, 61ºF, and a gentle 9 mph breeze blowing out of the northwest. I couldn’t resist taking pictures of the gorgeous blue skyline. Nor of the two donkeys I passed who looked at me as if to ask, “What the hell are you doing?”
In my smaller, lighter shoes I caught myself almost smiling at the sensation of speed my mind fed me during my run intervals. Keep in mind, I rarely find training runs enjoyable. This day, however, the weather and the shoes generously gifted me with the joy I rarely feel on a run. (No surprise. I logged my fastest average pace this training cycle.)
It wasn’t all rainbows and stars for the shoes, however. A step into a small divot quickly pitched me off balance. I didn’t stagger and my ankle didn’t turn, but my trajectory definitely changed. This highlighted the weakness in my ankles and core, significantly decreasing my stability during a run. Dangerous condition to take onto a technical trail—as you’ll see. 🙁
The Bad
I’ve been desperate to get onto technical trails again. I haven’t even hiked technical terrain since weeks (months?) before surgery and I miss it. Cameron Park in Waco is the closest and most convenient technical terrain for my use.
The objective for this week (W3) and next, as you know from my previous update, was to prioritize doing my long runs on the trails on technical terrain. No pressure for speed, just mileage on the terrain. Yesterday was my first long run on that terrain.
No surprise I didn’t arrive as scheduled—10:00 rather than 7:30 (I can dream, right?). Never the less, I did arrive. Distance in the Run w/Hal+ app was 9 miles. I wanted at least 6 of them up on the bluff in the park.
Although a gorgeous morning, it had rained the previous night. I expected mud. Mud meant the difference between getting on the technical terrain and having to run on the paved sidewalk along the banks of the Brazos River.
First bad thing I noted for the day was I had forgotten my Garmin watch on it’s charger. No data collected?! That can be a deal breaker for me. I thrive on the feedback from that watch. It almost isn’t worth doing if I can’t record it for review later.
Bad number two. The trails from the river are steep, rising sharply up onto bluff. It wasn’t until I was on my way up that I realized the rocks were wet under the trees on the hillsides.
About three-quarters of the way up I began questioning the traction of my new shoes. They have an aggressive tread, but also “hardish” rubber soles making them slick on wet rock. Complicating the climb was my poor balance and core strength. I fought for several l-o-n-g seconds to keep from toppling over backwards. Slowly, carefully, I inched my way along and reached the summit.
Making that climb also told me my respiratory function wasn’t what it needed to be for even this moderate level of effort. (TMI warning!) I’m still hacking up phlegm from the cold I had after my trip to the Jacksboro back in mid-February. Irritating. I’m not particularly concerned yet, as it is decreasing and doesn’t seem to affect my endurance or pacing.
Okay, a third bad for the morning. I was finally trying out the route/navigation function of my Garmin inReach Explorer+. My first time using it so I’m not proficient at tweaking the settings and not the least bit familiar with how it looks and sounds when it’s “navigating.” The tiny display, albeit color, makes it hard to read. (I haven’t found a convenient way to carry and access “readers” during outdoor activities.)
The inReach wasn’t automatically indicating turns for me as I’d hoped. Google Maps has me spoiled! Unfortunately, Google Maps has limited data for off-road. I had to backtrack to that first trailhead on the saved route because I missed my turn.
Up on the bluff, working my way into the windy, crisscrossing trails, I realized I was going to have stop every few minutes to zoom in and check my direction and route. Disappointing and very disruptive to what was supposed to be a training run. I shut it off and left it in the pocket of my hydration pack.
Minutes later, happily hiking along those yearned for trails–
My shoe slipped on the wet rock. Nothing too concerning, just enough to make me catch my breath. Enough to pull in my focus to the trail ahead. Then it happened again and again and…
I thought I was going to hit the ground this time, reflexively throwing out my arms for balance. Fortunately, I was on a descent and would have went down on my ass. If I’d been on an ascent, that reflex with my arms would have meant catching myself on my hands. Good to avoid a face-plant. Not so good for a rotator cuff previously torn and still healing from the surgery to repair it. Actually, not good for any rotator cuff. Catching myself on my hands during a hard fall was exactly what had resulted in a full thickness tear and bicep tendon rupture in me left shoulder in 2022.
“Screw this! I’m outta here.”
The Ugly
I turned around and started backtracking. I deviated off that track, believing I could find a more direct path down–that wasn’t falling off the bluff to the River Trail below. I didn’t need that direct.
I haven’t yet found an accurate map of the trail system at Cameron Park. Not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but the cyclists (and probably hikers and runners, as well) tend to make their own connecting trails. Too, the trails change due to erosion and deadfalls. I’m not yet familiar enough with the trails to know which trail intersects another. Nor where they begin and end. My strategy was to keep walking southeast, back toward the Redwood Shelter where I’d parked and keep taking trails that were headed down toward the river.
Problem: The trails wander along the bluff, then back away from it. Declines down only took me to another incline up, or farther away from the river. I have a copy of the “official” map of the trail system on my phone, but without a trail marker or a recognizable landmark, I couldn’t plan out the safest path down or even out to the paved road.
I started getting more and more frustrated and was taking “trails” that weren’t really trails, possibly water washes. I also wasn’t as cautious at choosing declines the longer I was thwarted from a clear path to the river.
One sharp incline looked promising. Too, it practically stair-stepped down. However, one “step” was over 12” down. I decided hopping down onto the relatively flat area, instead of stepping down, was best. I was worried about my balance with that wide “stride” down. After all, I can still jump, can’t I?
Um…not so much.
I still don’t know exactly what pitched me off balance. Ankle bobble, foot slip, wet rock, stiff knees—whatever the cause—I immediately started pitching over toward the right. Yep, the side of the injured shoulder. Fortunately, again, it was a descent. Momentum was tipping me so right buttock was going to hit the ground first. Fortunate too, when I knew the fall was inevitable, I had the presence of mind not to throw my right arm out to catch myself. No skint spots on my hand, elbows, or along my arms makes me feel confident I didn’t land on the arm. I did, however, roll over it.
Yes. You read that right. I rolled. The decline was so steep and the ground so slick, I couldn’t get my feet to “stick” to brace myself and arrest my downward momentum. I rolled one complete revolution and in that moment, I pictured myself rolling uncontrollably down the rocky decline like a scene out of a movie.
Just as I came over onto my shoulder for the second time, I got my momentum under control and my feet solid enough on the ground that I could push myself up into a seated position on the side of the hill.
It’s funny. As I’m sitting there brushing the dirt off my legs and sides, rolling my shoulder checking pain level and range of motion, my mind went to the conversation I’d had with my physical therapist the day before. I’d shared my plans with her and she’d cautioned me about the risks. (I’ve been doing it for so long, my dumbass can’t see hiking rugged terrain as a high-risk activity.)
Confessing my fall during my physical therapy session today, I got the full, worst-case scenario lecture “if you were to tear it again.” Laughing, I told my sister later that evening when she asked, I understood why the scare tactic. They (lead DPT and my PT for the session) had been trying to convince me to stay off the trails during recovery, without actually saying bluntly, “Keep your ass off the trails!”
Okay, I still had to get myself down off the bluff. I stopped looking to go down and focused on staying on the bluff until I found the road. Ironically, I popped back out at the southeast trailhead on Lawson’s Point-—which I’d walked past on my way out not 10 minutes earlier! I declined to take the road at that time. (See my takeaways from the day below. 😜)
No hesitation this time. I went out to the road and started walking back to where I’d parked. At least Google maps could direct me on the roads. With the nagging pain in my shoulder, no way was I toughing out 8 more miles, even on the sidewalk along the river.
I did have a lot of takeaways from the day.
- Start on top of the bluff at Lover’s Leap or another overlook with parking. (At least while you’re still recovering from surgery, dumbass.)
- Prioritize balance work through yoga and/or pilates. (Maybe Power Pilates in Waco.)
- Add dedicated HIIT (High-Intensity Interval Training) to increase VO2 max.
- Stop postponing strength training. Immediately work on strengthening ankles and core to make technical terrain safer.
- Ditto for glutes and quads. (I’ve been habitually skipping it, even though I experience their weakness regularly.)
- Difficulty on technical terrain? Take the easier, safer way out. Even if it’s longer. Duh!
- Have a back up plan for finishing the workout if I can’t do what’s planned.
No surprise. That ended my training streak for the week.
- After reading Anatomy for Runners, which I’ll report on soon, I wanted to begin the transition to a minimalist shoe. I found the Merrell Trail Glove 6 reviewed in Women’s Running as well as Runner’s World. Both recommended it as a shoe for “barefoot” beginners. The idea behind a minimalist shoe is to allow my feet to work more naturally. The way they would if not encased in a stiffened, narrowed, and cushioned shoe. (Boxing gloves on my feet?) Of course, the reduction of accustomed support and cushioning affects the mechanics of my running. I have to train to run in this different type shoe and can’t just jump into them for long distances. (Or seriously technical terrain.) ↩︎
