Getting Lost in the Woods: A 35K Race Report

In mid-February I hit the proverbial pandemic wall. Nearly a year’s worth of continual, small doses of unpredictable stressors coupled with a 12-day below-zero cold spell had me taking up residence in an emotional Funkytown.

During this time my friend Carrie reached out to ask me to join her and a couple of friends, Ellen and Bill, for a small trail race in Northern Arkansas the first weekend in March. With covid precautions in place that matched my level of caution and comfort I jumped at the invitation.

The Ozark Highlands Endurance Run, with 35K and 50K options, is in the small, charming town of Norfork, which features a local brewery, a great Mexican restaurant and a trout fishing camp we would call home for the weekend.

Having followed the Train Like a Mother Club Ultra 50K training program with Coach Christy through the Fall and Winter for a January race that wasn’t to be, I had a great base of endurance and strength. That said, I knew I’d go in undertrained; still, I went back to that program, plotted a couple of weeks of work, and a mini-taper to be as prepared as I possibly could be.

My plan for 35K was simple: run the runnable parts, hike where the trail or elevation presented a challenge and enjoy the day.

The trail was both lovely and very technical with a ton of elevation – the 35K served up almost 3,500 feet of climbing. The first six miles I fell into a comfortable rhythm. I was trotting along near two other runners, chatting occasionally when we came to a T in the trail—and simultaneously realized we hadn’t seen any trail markers in awhile.

We ran half a mile to the right, no trail markers. Backtracked and ran half a mile to the left, no trail markers. We pulled out our phones to try to make sense of the course map. No luck.

Out of options, we ran back about a mile and found the turn we’d missed. I was a little worried to have added 3 miles to a run that was already going to be a stretch for me, but my race companions and I had a laugh, got back on course, and headed on the right path to the next aid station.

Despite my extra mileage, at the turn around—race mile 10.5, Kate mile 13.6 —I was feeling strong and some Pringles really hit the spot at the aid station. I put Alexi Pappas book ‘Bravey’ on and dug in for the back half of the race.

With 4.5 miles to go, I realized I was off course again. I started heading down a hill, to the left, toward the river in the hopes I would either pick up the trail or find an outlet at the river. I was tired, frustrated, maybe a little scared, and honestly more than a little embarrassed to be lost again.

I knew my travel companion Bill was likely done with the race so I called him from the woods, hoping I could send him my location and he could use the course map to guide me out. He found the race director and described where I was. The race director quashed my dreams of having a down hill path back to the trail. “She needs to turn around and go back uphill,” he told Bill. It’s 450-500 feet of climbing. Does she have water?”

There was swearing. Simmering, I turned back up the hill, while Bill said he would bring the car to the point where the trail crosses the road and try to find me.

I turned off my watch, turned off my audio book and focused on getting myself back to where I was supposed to be. About 20 minutes or so, I found the trail and began walking, slowly, to the point where Bill said he would meet me. I had every intention of getting in the car and taking a ride to the finish.

When I found Bill—or he found me—he carefully mentioned I was only about 2.5 miles from the finish. Hearing him say that, I realized I wanted to dig in and actually get it done. With more walking than running, I crossed the finish line. Oddly proud of my 4-5 bonus miles and very proud I didn’t take the ride.

I had cold water, a cold beer, and some laughs with my friends over my directional challenges. Then we stretched out in the sun, listened to live music while muscle soreness and fatigue took over.

I felt so happy and so content, I nearly cried.

My friend Carrie posted this reflection on our race weekend:

“As we approach a year of living in the pandemic, there’s a lot of reflection of what we’ve lost, what we’ve gained, and what comes next. This weekend was a perfect combo of the three…time with friends new and old, getting lost for hours in nature, community, travel, good food, good drinks, carefree fun.”

I am so glad I marked a year of pandemic living by having this experience and pausing to acknowledge that we’ve made it this far.

And that we can handle whatever is around the next corner—provided, of course, I don’t get lost getting there.