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I like running trails. There’s something exhilarating about being in the outdoors, exploring nature and soaking up the world’s beauty. My legs also like running trails. They prefer the softer surface, and they love flying down hills with reckless abandon.

Saturday’s trail run, however, was long. It had relentless uphills, which took forever to conquer because I had to walk them. Even the downhills weren’t always thrilling, because they were steep enough that I had to slow down. I’ve learned that if I don’t put on my natural breaks and just go with it, my quads (thigh muscles) won’t hurt too much the next day. I had to slow down, though, or else I would have gone tumbling head over heels.

After 3 hours and 58 minutes, and 18.6 miles, I finally returned to the starting point. It started and ended on the beach in Sausalito, just north of the Golden Gate Bridge. I’d done a shorter run there before, and I knew the trail would take me up to a point where I’d actually look down on the Golden Gate in all its glory. That didn’t happen Saturday, though, because it was foggy and windy for the entire run. Yes, I’m whining. But look at the elevation I faced (and which I didn’t really notice when I signed up for the run):

OK, it wasn’t completely without a view. My friend Steve had remembered a certain viewpoint, so he stopped to get pictures:

The run ended at noon Saturday. As I type this more than two days later, my legs still won’t talk to me. They revived a bit yesterday, but when I woke up this morning they were in full denial. I was laughed at today as I hobbled around work, trying and failing to make my calf and thigh muscles work. This is marathon-level of soreness, despite being eight miles shorter than a marathon. Then again, I ran it only about a minute faster than my marathon five weeks earlier, so I guess it was marathon-like.

Somewhere around the third hour Saturday, I was not happy. I’d long since told Steve to go ahead because I didn’t want to slow him down. I’m glad I did, because if I’d been worrying about that, it would have further added to my exhaustion. See, not only did I battle true, complete fatigue and muscle pain, but I also faced a mental battle. I was alone for long stretches of time, and I began to think I was the last person out there. I wasn’t actually worried about being abandoned (I knew better than that, and there were people doing longer distances). But this was the first time I’d been so isolated for so long on a run. I’ve run up to 20 miles solo at once, but even then I say hello to pedestrians and stop for water at a coffee shop or gas station.

This was a new kind of isolation. I think it mingled with some long-growing dissatisfaction with parts of my life. And it was not fun. I trudged for miles uphill, no longer even caring to look at my GPS watch to see how many miles were left. Around mile 14, a photographer was on the course. It had flattened out (briefly), and I actually saw a couple other runners at that point. I saw the photographer in the distance, and I tried to smile for him and for myself. This was truly the best I could do:

I got to the last aid station, and I was SO happy to see people. They filled my water bottle, offered me snacks, and said the last 4.5 miles were the best part of the course — “unless you like uphills.” I was quite happy to hear that it was not uphill. But I also didn’t really want to leave, because I’d actually reached real people. I lingered for a bit, but finally gathered my wits and moved along.

Here’s the part that’s both ridiculous and heartening. (See, I’m not all doom and gloom!) In my time at the aid station, I’d caught up to a couple other runners, and a few had caught up to me. What I didn’t know was that two of the women were in my age group — and at that point we were all tied for second place in our division. Yes, after 14 brutal miles in which I thought I was all alone and the slowest person on earth, I was actually holding my own.

The first-place woman in our division actually won the whole women’s race in 2:41 (8:38 pace; absurdly fast), so she was far out of our league. But the second and third place women in my age group finished seconds apart from each other in 3:53. I was only five minutes behind. What if I hadn’t loitered at that last aid station for so long? What if I hadn’t stood at a concert and on a train for five hours the night before (yes, five hours; yes, it was so worth it; yes, it will be a separate blog post)?

But, two days later, I have realized that the real question is: What if I hadn’t let myself get so mentally defeated? I was completely exhausted when I finally reached the finish line, and I couldn’t have run another step. BUT I think I could have run smarter a couple hours earlier, and pushed a little bit harder. I honestly think that’s what separated my fourth-place finish from second place. Granted, there were only seven finishers in my division, but I still would have gotten a medal and I still would have been in the top half.

So, even though my legs are still mad and I’m definitely rethinking whether I want to tackle anything like that ever again, I have learned something. I’ve learned that, though I whole-heartedly believe I do my best running when I have no hardcore expectations, my head can still defeat me.

And I’ve also come face-to-face with the fact that, while I’ve succeeded in my decade-long quest to not be co-dependent, the result is not what I’d hoped. I like people. And I need them.