This past weekend, my family and I went to Arkansas for my cousin's wedding. Training-wise, I had prepared for the trip by kicking my butt the week before, so the next week could be a recovery week, and so I had an excuse not to train hard for a few days. I knew that there was no chance of swimming or cycling on my trip, but at least I could still run. I love running because of its simplicity, lack of necessary equipment, and the ability to do it almost anywhere. I had not planned to do any hard workouts over the weekend, and I knew that I would lose Friday as a training day because of the travel and rehearsal dinner that evening. But then I saw Honey Hill Rd.
We stayed in my aunt's house in Searcy, Arkansas, a town that had an interesting mix of the old and new, country and city. She happened to live off of the main drag in a neighborhood accessed by Honey Hill. This road was a narrow and country, with rolling hills and not much civilization past my aunt's neighborhood. I cracked a smile as we barreled over the hills on the way to Little Rock for the rehearsal dinner. I HAD to run these hills.
So on Saturday morning, I set out at 8:30 AM down Honey Hill Rd, planning to run for an hour at an easy pace so that I could take in the surroundings. The first hill was the biggest, and it was within the first mile of the run. My legs tingled with that hill-running feeling, something I haven't felt since Collegiate Nationals in Tuscaloosa (and I was grossly unprepared for those at the time). The road had no sidewalks, so I plodded along in the opposite direction of traffic, as I had read to do in Runner's World Magazine. Several large trucks passed me, politely waving and granting me the whole lane. People in the south are so friendly that way. I started anticipating the wave, and ran with my arm locked in an acknowledging position. I thought about how Arkansas was such a different world than Florida, how the pace of living was slower, the sky more clear, and the houses more, well, homey. I thought about the wedding later that day, and how proud I am of my cousin. The stream was interrupted, however, when a black dog and his terrier accomplice came running from one of the country houses I was running by. Luckily he was friendly, so I stopped and petted him as he jumped and ran circles around me. That sure doesn't happen every day. I ran to the end of Honey Hill and back, 6.71 miles in 51:21. Not very slow after all...
Sunday I did hill repeats on the aforementioned first big hill. I did 6 of them, sprinting over the top and cruising down the other side. I had definitely forgotten how hard hill repeats are. It was a great and fast workout, and it left my legs pleasantly fatigued. I had a water bottle that I would drink every time I came back over the hill toward my aunt's house, and I would rest a minute before starting the next set. Several cars were passing me, since it was Sunday and everybody was heading to church. After my 4th repeat, two cars a minute apart stopped and asked me "Honey, are you okay?", with a thick southern accent. I mustered up my best southern accent and replied "I'm just fine, just wettin' my whistle real quick." (ok, not really, but I wish I did) But I found it really amusing. No one in Florida would ever ask me such a thing. I guess they aren't used to seeing a red-faced blonde girl running on their road in nothing but a sports bra and running shorts. It should be noted that it was very hot all weekend, with the highs in the 100's and lows in the 80's. The lack of humidity was nice, but it was like going from the sauna to the oven. The feels-like temperature was 112 degrees the night of the wedding. I could have easily passed out on the side of the road, and if I did, I have no doubts that I would be quickly resuscitated with sweet tea and homemade biscuits and jam.
Monday I did the same workout as Friday, running 6.7 miles. We were going to be traveling all day, so I had to do something in order to keep me from going crazy on the plane. I was able to relax a little more this time, as I was more familiar with the route and had a feel for the distance. This time I left the house closer to 7:30, and the temperature was very tolerable. I saw my furry friends again around mile two, and was passed by a lot of cars heading into town for another work week. I still couldn't stop thinking about how I must look like a foreign life form running on their country road. I felt kind of like the joggers of the 80's, when people began to run around their cities in bright clothing for no apparent reason. People used to think that running was only for when you were getting chased by a wild animal or in a hurry to catch a train (or plane, or taxi...). I got several strange looks, and they were probably annoyed at having to go around me. So the drivers probably didn't enjoy my running, but I sure did. It was refreshing to run outside of my regular environment, and to run somewhere it wasn't as flat as a pancake. Sometimes, a change of scenery can do wonders for your training. My quads didn't like it so much, however, and they are still aching from the downhills. Yep, in contrast to conventional thinking, it's the downhills that really hurt. Also in contrast to conventional thinking, I really enjoyed my time in Arkansas.
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