I began my run from the point where the white trail (and the green trail) intersect with the road to Valley Green. The initial part of the run was uphill, but, starting out, I felt good. I trotted up the hill at a relaxed pace. Unfortunately, about a minute into the run I encountered some cyclists flying down the hill and over the humps in the path with an annoying bravado. I'd like to think--though I know it's not really the case--that there's something intrinsically humble about running, and that something stands opposed to the alleged arrogance of cyclists on the trail. I'd like to think that, but I know I'm only providing a feeble rationalization for my annoyance.
All was going well as I approached the top of the hill, and then the unexpected happened: I encountered a clearing from which I could discern no continuation of the white trail. So I took a wild guess, followed something that looked like a trail, and wound up at a dead end. I attempted to find my way onto an "official" trail, and, in a short time found myself on the part of the orange trail that, just a few days before, I had learned was largely unrunnable.
I can often handle setbacks like these if the conditions are right. Unfortunately, today it was hot and humid, and I was frustrated. To make matters worse, at least psychologically, my GPS/heart monitor kept alerting me that my heart rate was too high (it wasn't, but I'd not turned the alerts off since the last time I used it when working out on a stationary bike). So, about a mile into my run, I reached the bridge that took me back to Forbidden Drive, which I caught and followed back to Valley Green.
What lesson do I take from today's run? The psychological challenges of running in heat humidity, I think, call for taking few if any risks. If I'm to have successful runs on such days, I need to stick with what I know.
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