Timber!

Race number 34 was yesterday at the Bachman farm, a large farm in Comus, Maryland. After a 2.5 hour drive to get there and registering for the event, Butch and I went for our traditional one mile warm-up run. He suggested taking the wooded route as it was the roughest, and the easiest place to get lost. We were snaking our way along a serpentine route up a steep hill when I heard what sounded like a very large animal tearing through the woods. Remembering a recent bear encounter I scanned the horizon and heard a crash. I saw nothing but trees. Butch, too, heard the noise, but looked up into the canopy of trees alongside the trail. He saw a limb as big around as a telephone pole, and 1/3 as tall take a nose dive and hurtle to the ground.

Just a couple weeks ago, on a camping trip with the grandchildren, the girls and I went through a hike. I had told them that it was important to pay attention when hiking -- to watch for wildlife, to make enough noise that wild animals wouldn't be startled by our presence, AND to listen for the creak of a tree limb ready to fall. At the time, I didn't realize that a falling tree and a wild animal scurrying through the underbrush could sound so similar.

The actual race began with the pack of runners scrambling across an open field, trying to find their place in what would become a line of runners through the trails. In a single track spot we navigated over rocks tumbling down into a shallow ditch and back out over still more strewn rocks -- that was a tad frustrating as the runners ahead couldn't be passed and they practically walked down and up. We ran over moss covered stepping stones across a creek at one spot, and over dry stones across the creek at another spot. Tree roots and stones threatened to trip us, but I stayed upright and felt like I ran much more confidently that at my first cross country last week.

When I reached the last leg where Butch and I had warmed up, a solid line of runners (there was a total of 155 of us) zig-zagged up the hill toward my left, continued across the ridge and streamed down on the right -- just as I've seen many times in photos or in movies.

I followed the line, reached a grassy field and checked my watch. 24 minutes had passed. The race was nearly over, and I wasn't ready to quit. It was just too much fun. That elation quickly passed at the finish line, although I would like to run this one again.

And fortunately the limb's fall was the biggest adventure of the evening, and the race went off with barely a hitch. Another participant just behind me fell in a grassy area, but got up and, not only finished the race, but passed me.