The Climb (part 1)

Normally, I would be studying right now. Keeping up with Biochemistry, Microbiology, Microbiology lab, and Environmental History is a handful. The problem is that I don’t have any more hands than the two that are vigilantly bearing my running lifestyle. But I suppose that’s where my impressive juggling abilities come in, and as long as my responsibilities are in the air or in my hand, everything is in balance. Once shit hits the ground, well, then it’s refocus time.

Fortunately, juggling is my forte and things have been going pretty swell in the running department. Since early June, I have been consistently training with the 2011 Big West Championship Meet in mind. Every mile tallied into my base, every interval split sketched into my running log, every drill session performed visualizing the perfect stride; it all added up and before I knew it, I was at the top of the mountain that represented my last collegiate cross country season, staring starry-eyed at the flag in my foreground reading “All-Conference”. It danced gracefully in the zephyr, the same breeze that kissed my weary cheeks, flushed from the climb. I felt magnificent on top of the world. I built this summit as high as my dreams allowed me, and then dared to rise above it. As I reached out to grab the flag, a sudden gust threw me off balance, reminding me that my feet needed to be firmly planted before I seized the banner. In the wake of this reminder, I peered back over my shoulder, gaping down the mighty mountain of my collegiate cross country career. The memories from the season came rushing back to me...

It was a solid summer of training. I put in solid miles and solid workouts, yet detected no indication that I was improving at the rate that reflected my dedication and diligence. This often tampered with my head, and the thought of red-shirting looked more and more enticing as I mulled it over. The red-shirt idea dissipated after our team time trial, where eight of my teammates and I sustained 6:10 pace for over four miles, at which point our coach stopped us. He had seen enough, resolving that we were a solid team and every individual had done her work during summer training. This day marked the beginning of something uniquely special with the UCSB women’s team: together we lit the torch that ushered our way through the season.

As our first race approached, the Lagoon Home Opener against Cal Poly, I decided to get a blood test to see my ferritin level. I had been taking my iron twice daily for two months and had an intuition that I was going to hit a record high. This wouldn’t be hard to achieve, since the two times I’ve gotten it checked it’s been 19 and 16. I predicted that it would be in the mid-forties. Two days before my race I got my results back. It’s bizarre the way practical math doesn’t seem to provide the correct equation for some bodily functions:

(2 iron supplements)/(1 day) + (2 dinners including red meat)/(1 week) + (feeling pretty good) – (calcium supplement within two hours of iron supplement) – (coffee and tea) = ferritin level of 13.  

What? Did I do the math right? Hot damn, I didn’t think I left any variables out of the equation…

Well, regardless of this unsatisfying news, I was feeling pretty good. I wasn’t expressing any symptoms of iron deficiency, so I tossed my test results aside and began visualizing my race. I wanted to break 18 minutes in this 5k. I wanted to roll.

(to be continued)


What I'm listening to right now: Missed the Boat by Modest Mouse