Psycho Wyco

Now, why would somebody want to spend a nice winter morning slopping through cold, slushy mud on a Saturday morning? I'm not sure why, but I'm attracted to the race where mother nature plays her trump cards assertively. I guess when I was young, we always played outside, no matter what the weather. There were no video games or computers back then, just a desire to enjoy a bit of freedom and a playful imagination.

This Saturday, Feb 9, 2008, started off like most other race mornings. I woke well before the alarm clock just like every other race I've done. My internal clock must know the importance of rising early enough. There are so many things to do on race morning, important things like eat, stretch, organize, prepare mentally and, well, take care of some important body functions. I always fear being in the middle of a race and 'the urge' comes. I meticulously go through my race packet, check the maps, get my gear together, charge the iPod and prepare a new songlist. A new radio station format here in KC has been playing some classic rock tunes I haven't heard in awhile. Rod Stewart was one of those artists that strikes the nostalgia chord in my head, so I download some old Rod tunes to head up the new playlist. Did you ever notice how many great songs are on the album "Every Picture Tells a Story?" This has to be one of the best classic rock albums of all-time, but I digress. I know this is going to be a very tough race physically, so I add plenty of blues and jazz to the list. The jazz will keep me relaxed and slow me down, while it's obvious I'll be singing the blues somewhere along the course!

The sun is now beginning to poke it's head above the horizon. It's going to be a perfect day, right about freezing now, but the warmth will be spreading rapidly once the sun has fully awoken. It's time to head out to Wyandotte Co Lake Park, where the PsychoWyco Race will be held. http://www.psychowyco.com/id7.html

Now, any race that describes itself with 'psyco' in the name, ought to scare ya. Who's crazy enough to run a trail race at this time of year? Do you have to be nuts to run through the woods in the winter? Have you lost most of your senses to run a course that was partially designed by the race director's dog, Fester? Who names their dog Fester? A 'Psycho' seems to be the theme here. I guess there's just a bit of psycho in me and 300 or so other Midwesterners. The race itself is either 10, 20 or 30 miles. I've chosen to do the 20 miler, as this is only my second trail race ever and it's touted as one of the toughest courses in the area. The course is a 10 mile loop, so I'll need to run the same route twice.

After a short termed panic session; one that arose after leaving my timing chip and race bib at home, I rush back home to grab the forgotten items. Luckily, I had only gone a couple miles before the light went on. All that early morning planning seems wasted now. Oh well, I guess it's natural to forget things at my age. Shortly after this episode, I arrive at the county park and begin to find my way around. Even though the sun is up now, it's still cold, and I stare in amazement at the runners wearing shorts. I like to run in shorts myself, but damn, there's still ice on the puddles and it's just beginning to break the freezing mark. OK, call me a wimp, but I've got on my long tights and 3 layers on top. I know I tend to overdress for every run, but I can always take off what I don't need later. It's now approaching the 8 am start time and the race director gives us his final instructions. "Don't cross where you see these signs" he proclaims, as he holds a sign that says wrong way. "If you do, you may find yourself winning the booby prize for the most lost runner".

The race director gives his cue and off we go. It's difficult to pass people on trail runs, so I take off very slowly in order to drop near the back of the pack and into my comfort zone. Soon, we make the turn onto the trail and begin to climb the first of many hills. The pace is slow as it is still crowded but it should thin out quickly. So far, the footing has been pretty good considering the amount of rain and snow we've had lately. About a mile into the run, I step in my first slushy, muddy hole and now have a soaking wet left foot. Damn that's cold! I've got to be more careful at these spots. I continue on and before long, I've forgotten how cold and wet my foot is. It's a beautiful, sunny day and I'm just enjoying being outdoors. After about 5 miles, my legs begin to show signs that they're tiring. The strategy now will be to walk the steeper hills. This works pretty well, and besides, some of these hills are steep, slick and almost impossible to run up anyways. I've now entered the portion of the course dubbed 'Fester's Wander'. Fester, the race directors dog, supposedly charted this section by running wherever he pleased and the local running club built the trail from there. His efforts here did nothing to make me think of him as 'man's best friend.' It's a tough, narrow section which winds through some thick sections of woods. Apparently, Fester had no problems changing directions quickly and running uphill. My body now is wearing down quickly, but thankfully, the trail leaves the woods and leads towards a picnic shelter. Like a desert oasis, it's an aid station, stocked with all the goodies a runner would need. Hot soup, donuts, pretzels, oranges, gels, energy drinks, water and my favorite, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The volunteers are very friendly and help me find just what I need. I'm in no hurry to leave, and what the heck, why not wash down that PBJ with a nice Krispy Kreme! After milling around a few minutes, it's back to work. I'm feeling refreshed now and ready for the second loop.

Does a mother really need a Hummer to pick up her kids from school? Doesn't owning a Hummer just seem excessive, period?

The warm sunshine on this February day would create an unexpected turn in the course conditions. The combination of the sun melting much of the remaining snow and the masses of feet churning the moisture with the bare ground, create a slop that would keep Arnold Ziffle indoors watching TV. The mud has now become deeper, wetter and slicker. At times it felt like my foot was being sucked into the ground and it took more leg strength to pull out on each step. My body was already extremely tired, but I'm barely into the second loop. I keep slowing down but continue to push forward. Somewhere around the 15 mile mark, I'm surprised when someone comes up from behind and grabs my hamstring and twists it violently. Hey, what the heck are you.....whoa, I turn around to look and no one is there. Not to worry though, the hamstring pain in each step is offset by the burning in my quads. Like a fine tuned jalopy, each individual pain works in concert to create this laughingly awkward running stride.

Along the course there are humorous, motivational signs planted every so often. I remember one that reads; "Whiners will be buried in shallow unmarked graves." Geez, I'd better get those last few thoughts out of my head! Another sign though, will become my mantra for the rest of the race. "If it ain't easy to do, then it's worth more in the end." I repeat this thought to myself every time I think about how much my legs are hurting. As I continue through the second loop, it becomes more difficult to avoid the deep, wet mud and eventually, I don't even bother trying to find a safe spot to land each step. I've given in to the fact that my feet will be soaking wet the rest of the race. Each uphill section now becomes a challenge to get one foot in front of the other. Downhill presents a different challenge, as I slide to the ground on more than one occasion. Most of the bottom half of my body is now covered in mud. I certainly must factor in the extra weight I'm carrying when calculating the difficulty of this race.

I'm now over 5 hours into the race and the elite 30 milers are beginning to lap me. My calves, hamstrings and quads have all banded together and declared war against the brain. The revolting muscles load their weapons and begin their assault. "Stop now or you'll get shin splints, you want those blisters to get worse, let's just walk the rest of the way" are fired convincingly. They win a battle or two here and there, but the brain has a few tricks of it's own. I'm repeating my mantra over and over as we get closer to the finish. A tune by Queen begins to play and I sing along. "Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball." Distractions now are welcomed as they keep me from thinking about the wishes of the leg group. Finally, after a long, hard fought battle, I crest over a hill and at last, see the finish line. I gather up all my remaining strength and cross the line with a mix of pain and jubilation. One of the wonderful volunteers tells me to smile and drapes a medal around my neck. A smile now seems so fitting; I'm so happy to be done and the hard work really does feel like it's worth more now. The race director is there to shake everyones hand when they finish and he deserves high praise for putting on such a well organized event. This run was more difficult than any marathon I've done and I will cherish this experience for quite some time.