Spent Thursday morning driving down to Portland to pick up my mom from the hospital, and then we drove back to Long Beach to get her settled in. The drive stiffened my legs up a bit, especially after Carkeek, but a bit of walking around worked things out. Sore, but functional, left leg a bit more sore than the right.
Finally got out to run at about 9:20. Dark and overcast, so no moonlight, but I really didn't want to run through town, and wanted to run on the beach, so what the heck. Snagged a flashlight from my nightstand, that I swear my mom has had sine I was a kid and got out there. The back light on the Garmin was throwing a lot of light too.
It was a pain trying to see with the flashlight (weaker batteries than I thought) as I started on the gravel trail to the beach, so I turned it off, and then the Garmin back light. By the time I got to the beach (about .5 from the house) my eyes had pretty well adjusted. Except for one scare when a pole with a bunch of net buoys festooned from it looking like something from a horror movie, I was doing well.
It was dark enough that all you could see was the pixilated outlines of the world, and the light pollution from the houses and towns. It was overcast so no moonlight to help. Took a visual from the beach and a distance from the Garmin and ran until I hit 3 miles and turned around. It was a little nerve wracking at the end looking for an unmarked gap in the dunes, hoping that the Garmin wasn't off, but once I saw the 'scary' post I was fine. :)
It was a run that you narrate for the blog in your head, tring to capture it for yourself, and to descibe it for others. (As cheesy as it sounds.) :) I wish I could have recorded it when I was running. I wouldn't try to replicate it all here because I just can't, but I'll dump what I can. :)
Seeing the landing lights of someone's path to the beach, looking light a saet of runway lights. Having the only way you can gauge your speed be if you look directly at your feet, and if there's something there to reflect what little light is there. Having the horizon never get any closer like a dream of running forever, or a nightmare if you're getting tired. Feeling like you've run for hours and checking the Garmin for one of the few times you do and realizing you've only gone 5 minutes since the it chirped for the last mile marker. Feeling like you've run for a few minutes and having the Garmin chirp for the last mile. Having the light change when you turn around and being able to see better. Glossy parts of the beach that must be slightly wetter sand. Spongy sand that feels good to your legs but means you're too high on the beach. Whitecaps that you can't tell for certain are 5 feet off the beach or 50. Windows of a beach hours that looks like something from a movie. One where you see either a statuesque silhouette, or a murder, or both, and then they see you.
No one else out on the beach until the return leg. At some point I realized the light ahead of me was getting close, and it eventually turned into a pair of headlights of a truck. I turned the flashlight back on so they'd notice me, and they were polite enough to stop until I had passed. Seemed odd to me, but Val pointed out it was probably them just being safe.
It was 55ish, but I figured that since we I was running right off the ocean I should try the tights and a long sleeve. Should have stuck with the normal outfit for that temp. Wind off the ocean was mild and light. Had the shirt sleeves pushed up by halfway through and considered taking it off for a bit. Glad I hadn't once I saw the truck. :)
Some muscle soreness and tiredness from the hills, thighs, hamstrings and the small muscles around the ankles. Went as fast as I felt comfortable, only checked Garmin for distance, never looked at pace, just dialed it back when something started to complain, legs or core.
6.01 in 55:34 (9:15/mile) @ 159 bpm
9:48 @ 154 << Half is warmup, trail, and soft sand
9:12 @ 155
8:57 @ 160 << Note normal 3 mile HR change
9:00 @ 161
8:56 @ 164
9:34 @ 165 << half is soft sand and trail
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