1.      It’s (almost) never too hot to run

I would have begged to differ with this before spending a summer paddling in my own perspiration, in the high heat and humidity of a Minnesotan summer.  At first I tried to dodge the heat – running early (still pretty sweaty) or even on the treadmill.  Eventually I realised I would have to embrace the heat if I was to survive a summer racing in it.  Apart from one overcooked pre-storm run in 99% humidity, where I embraced a tree damply by Lake Calhoun as I threw in the towel, I learned how to run in the sun.  No secrets, just running slower, finally finding sunscreen that didn’t make me weep copiously (Ocean Potion surfer’s sunscreen), a new favourite hat and every trail runner’s best friend, a Nathan handheld water bottle.  And I embraced the colour pink, a colour my face stayed for about three months.

2.      Remember to smile when you see a camera.

I was a bit sceptical when I saw this advice in the NYRR manual for the New York marathon.  The joys of getting older (less collagen), however, combined with a tendency to breathe through my mouth when racing (too much good cheese and good wine) mean that I am a veteran of pictures in which my face appears to be melting and/ or I look like a village idiot.  So I grinned furiously every time I saw the cameras at NYC.  And whaddya know?  It works.

3.      A race is made better by good ham sandwiches.

At the Craughwell 10 mile race in March, I remember standing a few rows from the front waiting for race start (such enthusiasm!) and wondering vaguely who the tiny, tiny woman in the butt-skimming shorts and bra top was. The tiny woman turned out to be Pauline Curley who, needless to say, was home, changed and hairstyled for her awards picture before I crossed the finish line.  The post run spread far exceeded my expectations, with an Irish mammy style feed of ham sandwiches, egg sandwiches and fruitcake, along with copious cups of tea.  I had thirds while waiting for my (oh! deadly pride!) Team County Medal.

 Consultation with team-mate who confided:  ‘My passenger wants her lift home before the prizes.  Should I wait?’ 

My response:  ‘Personally, they will have to kill me and pry the last cupcake out of my cold dead hand before anyone makes me leave without me bloody medal.’  They stayed. 

No small wonder my shorts are bigger than Pauline’s.

4.      And a Saturday run ends happily with coffee.

     I guess I’m a carrot rather than a stick kinda girl (see no. 3 above).  When I got to Minnesota last April and started wondering about how I would entertain myself for all of the long Saturdays that stretched ahead over the summer, luckily my friend Helen stepped in and farmed me out to some of her running friends who have an informal Saturday trail running meet in various locations in the Twin Cities.  A vitally important component of this outing turned out to be the weekly post-run excursion to a local Starbucks or (the vastly superior) Caribou Coffee for a g-i-a-n-t Americano, some oatmeal and a lot of banter.  Luckily with my highly honed athletic skills, I took to the coffee outings like a duck to a puddle of sweat.  The runs took a bit more work. 

5.      A good running mate shortens the road.

I fell in love this summer, and I fell hard.  Big goofy brown eyes, long legs, long...tail.  Okay, Cooper Scotch, my new love – is an Alaskan husky cross with a taste for good snacks and thirty mile runs.  There’s a reason why they use huskies to cross the Arctic – these dogs are bred to run until they drop.  Cooper’s dad, Chris, kindly lent me his dog for the weekend when he took off to Oregon (for a 100km run!), and I was made.  Saturday morning: 20 mile trail run at Afton State Park, towed by an ecstatic bag of muscle.  By Saturday evening I was eventually guilted out by Cooper’s baleful ‘you-are-neglecting-me’ stare into taking him to the dog park.  For some EXERCISE.   After a combination of 20 mile run plus hour at the dog park finally wore him out, we snuggled on the couch and watched True Blood.  Reader, if he had two legs, I would have married him.

6.      Embrace the bad days – they will help you on the good.

Being away in a new place last summer, I resolved never to turn down an invitation.  Which I didn’t.  Which led to a most excellent summer hopping from trail run to theatre to happy hour back to trail.  Which found me, only four days after getting back from a pretty intense adventure holiday in Alaska, sitting in a tent on the North Shore of Lake Superior, with a pile of tissues and a knockout bottle of cherry cough syrup, wondering why I couldn’t have a quiet life.  We had planned an 18-25 mile run, joining Brian (who was running 50! Miles!) half way along his run on the incredibly hilly Superior hiking trail.  So far, so good.  A complicated morning ensued,dropping water, cars and food for Brian.  By the time we met Brian half way through his run to start ours, it was nearly midday, and a scorcher in the mid thirties.   We totally underestimated the water requirements (I had finished two litres in the first ten miles), and I was wheezy, cross and overheated.  My ‘run’ turned into a run/ walk.  Helen and Chris kindly hung back and shuffled with me.  I ‘ran’ some of the longest, hottest, slowest, crossest miles in my entire running career that day.  I thought about dropping after ten miles (but didn’t due to the complicated car drop which would have meant hitching to the next village).  When we sat, recovering, and trying to cool down the overheated dog at the top of Mount Trudy, though, you could see forever. Trudging the last few miles I thought:  Bad as this is, I will feel better when I run the marathon along this route.  I will embrace this feeling and conquer it. 

And I did.

7.      Take a Map

Another weekend; another adventure on the Superior Hiking Trail.  The trail runs point to point for, oh, 150 miles.  Generally the plan involves a car drop and running in one direction.  It’s pretty simple.  If you start in the middle, running north brings you to Canada via Grand Marais (if you run far enough), with Lake Superior on your right.  Running south brings you to Duluth (if you run far enough) with Lake Superior on your left.  Off we went, running north, at a nice easy pace, following the well marked blue blazes on the trail.  So far,so good.  We ran in pairs or threes according to pace.  Some hours later, we realised we had lost two of the ten runners out on the trail somewhere.  Many hours later, still no show.  After much application of logic as to their mysterious whereabouts,  many calls to a car-bound cell phone and a couple of calls to the nearest emergency rooms, we gloomily started putting our trail shoes and headlamps on to go out and search 40 miles of trail.  Just in the nick of time, the two arrived back sheepishly.  Turns out they had been running south all day (they did have the good sense to turn around at some point), on two gels and a very small amount of water.

Moral of the story?  Lake to the right.  If you’re not sure, bring a map.  And drink the river water; the risk of a mild dose of giardia trumps death by heatstroke any day.

8.      Toe Socks Rock

And $10 bargain bin trail shoes don’t.  There’s probably going to be a reason they were reduced to $10 anyway, right?  I thought I had a proper bargain with my Saucony trail shoes.  Until the giant blisters they gave me exploded in the last couple of miles of the Afton trail race.  My Ininji toesocks were a different story.  Okay, they probably cost a little more than my (not-really-a)-bargain-(consigned-to)-bin trail shoes; but all the trail runners swear by them.  Apart from the odd fuddled early-early morning run, where I’d sit on the floor and decide that figuring out how to fit my toes into each of their little homes was far too much effort, the toesocks preserved my feet beautifully, bringing my feet through a wet muddy, slippery trail marathon unscathed.  My only regret was that I didn’t buy the stripy ones.