Countdown to CIM: Two Weeks

Saturday morning was my last really long run before Sacramento.  I logged 21 miles yesterday, and I did it solo, since I’m doing a two-week taper and everyone else wrapped it up last weekend.

I strained my calf muscle two weeks ago, and missed a key workout—the Santa Barbara Half Marathon—so I had to defer the last, hardest training session.  Right after the strain, I had my doubts about whether I’d even be able to race.  I couldn’t even walk on it the night it happened.  Miraculously (to me), all it took was 4 days off and a VERY aggressive Rusty massage to get me up and running again. I’ve never had an acute injury like this before; mine tend to be gradual and chronic, so I didn’t know what to expect.   Imagine my surprise, and pleasure, when I managed a (modified) track workout just one week after the injury.
 
Yesterday my workout was a 4-mile warmup, 10 miles at 7:25, 3 easy, then 2 at 7:10 followed by a two-mile cooldown.  Since I was on my own, I wanted to bring along my postage-stamp size iPod.  Rusty recommended against it.  Mimic race conditions, he cautioned.  OK, time to get tough.
 
After a collegial warmup with the boys (George and Lauren) on the beautiful Ellwood Bluffs, I hunkered down and started a 7-mile marked course that begins on Hollister, crosses over 101 to Cathedral Oaks, drops down Los Carneros, and heads back up Hollister to the start.  To get my 10 miles in, I had to overlap 3, which means I had to run the $%#@*! second mile twice.  It’s tough—down over across the 101 around Winchester Canyon, and UP Calle Real to Cathedral Oaks.  I was determined to run it on pace both times, and succeeded.  Just after the second time around, Rusty cruised by, which gave me a little boost—I gave the thumbs-up signal and yelled, “On pace!”  George passed me a little later, which gave me a second boost…ah, a friend.  Someone else out there is participating in this lunacy.  

I had a little embarrassing wildlife encounter during my 4th mile.  I was running the long uphill stretch of Cathedral Oaks between Glen Annie and Los Carneros, with avocado orchards to the left, and undeveloped fenced land to the right.  I heard the unmistakable shrill yipping of a coyote from the orchard side, and suddenly, there he was, crossing the road, heading straight for me!  Now, I know coyotes aren’t aggressive, and I’m bigger than a baby or a chihuahua,  but I panicked.  What if he’s deranged?  What if he goes for my newly-healed calf?   

I did what any self-respecting former dog owner would do:  I flapped my arms and ran towards him, bellowing “NO!” in my best alpha imitation.  He quailed, and ran adjacent to me for several seconds in the middle of the highway.  I saw a line of cars approaching, and waved wildly.  I’m thinking, “Help!  I’m about to be devoured!” The poor coyote, of course, is thinking “Get the hell out of my way so I can scoot over to my ‘hood!”  He zooms across the road and zips through a hole in the fence, just before the caravan of cars vrooms past, who are no doubt thinking “Oh, look!  The nice runner is trying to protect the coyote from getting hit by a car!”  I put my tail between my legs and ran on, silently cursing my insensitive idiocy AND my watch, which now reflected a 15 second altercation.  

Coyotes everywhere, I apologize.  Just leave my kitties alone.

The rest of the run went well, so I bit the bullet and signed up for the race—Saturday was the last day to register online.  I’m committed:  I’ve got a plane, a hotel, a spot in the race, and even a bus ticket out to the start. With luck, barring an anomalous heat wave/winter storm, serendipitous wildlife, and a soleus flare, I’m on my way to a PR.