I apologize in advance if the next few day's worth of posts deal solely with the upcoming Bulldog 25k trail race that I'm running, but it's really at the forefront of my feeble brains.

Excited, tentative, chilled, scared shitless....these are adjectives that describe both losing my virginity and running this, my first, trail race, and my first small step towards running a 100 miler. I feel...ready? I suppose. I guess. Damn, just when I think I do, when I can envision myself tumbling across the finish line and tossing cookies of joy all over the hell, I have a training run like this past Saturday's.

Not that it was bad. In fact, it was great. I ran at Griffith Park; horse trails with incredibly steep ascents and descents, perfect training for this race. I set out to run an out and back from Mineral Wells (in the center of the park) to Griffith Observatory, made famous in "Rebel Without A Cause". I figured it would be an intense 3 hour run, so I loaded up my two hand-held water bottles, one with Gatorade, the other with scotch water, put 3 gels and a Clif Bar in my hip pack, strapped on my iPod Shuffle and ascended.

Honestly, the first 2 hours were CAKE. The heat was growing a little, but my lungs were even, heart was steady, legs strong and assured. At 1 hour 40 minutes, I hit my turnback point at The Observatory (under construction), where I planned to refill my water bottles, but even the bathrooms and water fountains were cordoned off. Shit, I thought. Can I make it with only (roughly) 44 ounces of fluids in me? I remembered that about 20 minutes down on the way back, by the old L.A. Zoo remains (creeeepy and cool!), there were several water fountains. It would add another mile or so to my run, but I needed the fluids.

I got there, refilled, rested a minute, and headed back. This is when the challenge began.

Post my zoo detour, there is a MASSIVE fucking hill. I've run it dozens of times, but I mean, this bitch probably ascends 100 feet in about a 1/4 mile, goddamned ridiculous. I headed up at a fast walking pace, but halfway up, my quads looked me in the eye and said, "Ummmm...NO." I had to stop. I sipped some water and looked up that motherfarker. Then, I felt something. My feet. They began...to move...upwards.

I don't know where it came from, but I got up that bitch, and once at the top where it levels off, I said out loud to myself, "Okay: Run, you pussy."

And I began running.

It was painful. Fatigue was pounding the shit out of my calves and quads, but I pushed onward. I knew I had about 15 minutes left when I looked at my watch and it said I'd been going for 2:40, and again, I stopped. Exhausted, I squatted on the trail, feeling the muscles and tendons stretch, trying to constrict and relax, but I wouldn't let them. Again, out loud, I said, "Are you gonna sit here, or are you going to go?". I paused. There was no answer. I asked again, "Are you going to run this or not, Russ?" Then something really weird happened. I got pissed, angry at the audacity of that question. I stood up, and as if to respond to my own retorical question, I said, "I'm going to run this."

And I took off.

I was back at my car after running for about 2h 58m. I shuffled to the grass and collapsed on my back, laughing at the fact that I played "coach" to myself and it worked. It's comforting to know that I have that in me, that little voice that says, "Are you going to or aren't you?" That's one thing that running has taught me: I believe in myself, and I can take myself through anything, no matter how dire or challenging the situation.