This post is brought to you by the letter P, the color Brown, and the number 20.

I finally got a chance to do a 20 mile long run in a dog-free zone today.  I drove up to Capron, IL, to the Long Prairie Trail head so I could get my long run on.

14 miles of trail goodness.

Imagine my surprise when I got there and saw that the parking area gate was closed, and the sign below was on the gate:

That's when I got pissed off (hence the letter P that is sponsoring this post).  Capron isn't exactly right near my house, and it was already pretty late in the afternoon (1:30 thereabouts).  This meant I had to drive to nearby Caledonia, where I knew there was a parking lot along the trail that had no gate.  Screw you, budget cuts.

I got out and put on my super-sexy running/hydration backpack:

OK, so the sweat gives it away that I took this after my run, not before.  We'll have to cope with the fact that this picture is technically out of sequence.

Here's a quick review of my Camelbak hydration backpack:

It's very good.  I like it.

Here's a longer review:

It's very good; it doesn't bounce around when running, holds 2 liters of water in a bladder that is easy to empty and dry out, and has two deep front pockets that can hold all of my stuff.  On this run my stuff was as follows: 9 gel packets, sunglasses, my phone, a big can of pepper spray (more about that later), and a pair of gloves.  These filled pockets never felt bulky or in the way.  It's almost as if they designed it for maximum storage with minimum getting-in-your-way-age.  I like it.

Anyway, back to what I was wearing, which is MUCH more important:

I was very excited to be trying out one of my new Nike running shirts and the Nike running capris that I got at the outlet mall on my way back from Alabama.  I also had on my nifty blue compression sleeves because they're fun.  And compressive.

Please to excuse my thunder thighs.

After making sure my attire was appropriate and positioned correctly, I took off down the trail.  Well, I took off a few feet and then stopped to use a small restroom that looked like it had last been cleaned right before the end of the Cretaceous period and still contained all of the debris from the asteroid impact that killed the dinosaurs but not this little restroom.

I did not sit down, I swears.

NOW I took off down the trail, and noticed two things:

1) There were still patches (and sometimes long patches) of hardened slush/snow on the trail.  Dammit.
2) Everything was brown.  Brown brown brown brown BROWN.  April showers, let's hurry up with those May flowers, alright?

Brown brown brown.  And more brown.  And some snow.

Fortunately the snow patches cleared out after about a mile on the trail.  Then, I got to really take in the sights of the Long Prairie Trail:

Snack shop?  Freaking awesome.  Unless this is some sort of weird "Hansel & Gretel" thing. 

Boy will this be better when it's green and not brown.

Near the trail head at Capron.  That is an old tricycle around which that tree is growing.  And it's brown.

This was at the bottom of the same tree as the previous picture.  Looks like a bike with no tires.  That is brown.

The view from a rest area (there are some nice ones).  You get a lovely view of all the brown from here.

I did read the sign, but I only took this picture because the word "beaver" is on the sign.  I didn't know I lived near Beaver Creek! Yes, I am a large woman-child.

Proof that I made it to Capron.  Even the freaking buildings are brown.

But right before I made it to Capron, this greeted me on the trail:

It's a good thing I have done a few obstacle courses; I shimmied on under those branches like a pro.  The cyclists on the path were a bit stumped, though, circling endlessly in front of it and trying to figure out how to get themselves, perched atop a bike, underneath that mess.  (Hint: Get off the bike.)


On my way back towards Caledonia, I encountered a gaggle of geese on the path.  They weren't moving, not for me or for anyone.  It was THEIR trail, dammit, and I was NOT WELCOME.  Well, I had to pull out the pepper spray and start a rumble with the geese by spraying it directly in front of them (no, I DID NOT pepper spray any geese.  Stop calling the ASPCA already).  This got them off the middle of the trail, and I scooted on though the parted sea of geese.  One of them started chasing me, so I picked up the pace a bit a pepper sprayed in front of him (her?) to stop the chase.

I continued on down the trail snot-rocketing as I went (it was windy; my nose gets all mucus crazy in the wind), wiping my nose with my hand afterwards.  With my hand.  The same hand I had just used to launch puke-colored pepper spray in front of geese.

Before I knew it, my right nostril was on fire.  And the wind going up my nose felt like it was just fanning the flames.

I sucked some water from my backpack and then spat it in my hand.  I then tried to throw as much water as I could up my nose, which is hard to do when you're running with your nose on fire.  This also tends to interfere with this thing called "breathing" as you run.  But I'm glad I did it; the fire simmered down to a smolder for the next 10 minutes of the run.  And I wisely used my sleeve to wipe my nose rather than my fingers from that point forward.

Overall, it was an interesting run, and the miles kind of flew by--all 20 of them.  That's surprising, considering how straight and brown the path is, but I guess it was the newness of it all.  I felt stronger at the end of the run, having negative split it without meaning to do so.  Hate it when that happens, huh?  The foot was quiet the entire time so I could solely focus on how tired my quads were.

But, alas, that was my last 20 mile run of my training plan.  Now I have two days of cross-training, and a modified week due to the half marathon I'm running a week from today.  Any suggestions for how to modify a tempo run 2 days before a half-marathon?