Mold.

He found mold. And what he saw was the tip of the iceberg. As I carefully took toys out of the boys' rooms to clear the way for us to figure out the extent of the problem, I continued to find more and more mold.

OMG.

The water heater leak from two weeks ago, plus the seemingly endless rain, plus some other factors (poor air circulation and low temperature, the primary ones) gave the mold a party pad.

Instead of relaxing the day before my 10K trail run, I spent the day moving toys and furniture, kicking up dust and more. My back killed, but I had no choice - we had to clear out the rooms to clean them.

An entire "the mold guy wants us to rip down our house" drama ensued, but I'll spare you the details. As it stands now, we're going to do some further inspection into whether we need extensive treatment, but for now the rooms are clean.

For all practical reasons, I should have skipped the 10K race. After all, I spent all of Friday on my feet, bending my knees, and irritating my back and lungs. I was stressing myself physically and emotionally while not getting all the other tasks done that I was supposed to.

I should have skipped the race to catch up on work, to help the continued mold-cleaning effort, and to not risk injury to a tired body.

But, I knew this had to be "ME" time. Not doing the race would have stressed me out more. It is true that I wouldn't have run on Thursday if I didn't have the race. I would have figured I'd run another time. I would have just sat at my computer, sedentary: earning money, but putting on the pounds. But I knew that I couldn't come into a race cold - I'd injure myself. So I did run on Thursday. And I decided that I would run on Saturday as well.

And what an adventure it was.

During all of last week, the Race Director sent us a bunch of emails about mud, closing cow gates, and mentions that if any of us wanted to downgrade our distance, we were welcome to do so at no charge. (This race had 5k, 10k, and half-marathon distances.) He kept saying that this was not a fast course. In fact, they switched the course because one hill was actually impossible to climb post-rain.

I stuck with the 10k. After all, I have Project 2010k.

At the start of the race, the Director laughed, "You will get very muddy. Most of you will fall. You will all get your feet completely soaked. Just make peace with it now!"

As we began, my legs immediately locked up. I couldn't believe it. Usually the first mile is annoying as my body warms up, but at least I run. But this time, my legs were heavy. The first part of the course was fairly flat, straight, and not-muddy, but my legs just didn't want to participate. I started to walk. Hey, I've got 6.2 miles, no hurry I figured. I ran a little, walked a little, ran a little, and was just not feeling the happy.

When the 5K turn-around arrived. I seriously considered just turning around with them. But I trudged on ahead, towards the unknown. I went past some trees, and then made a big turn to reveal my challenge.

What I saw were hills. Hills. Straight-up hills. Slimy, muddy hills.

People lost shoes. People fell down. We laughed as we climbed up sideways to prevent losing our progress. I grabbed trees when I could. We ran on the little bits of grass on the side of the trail, yet I feared going too far to the side because of some relatively unfriendly-looking drop-offs.

Once a major set of hills was complete, I saw yet another set, but this time they were dry. At the top, I audibly gasped, "Beautiful."

I had started in a valley. And now I was on top of a high hill. I could see many miles away. I was stunned at how tiny everything was below. I was down there! I realized.

I could actually picture myself running in some T.V. commercial about "getting outside" or "freedom" - a lone person running on the top of a rolling hill, under a blue sky. Of course I'm sure my form isn't so graceful as I pictured it, but I felt so free and powerful for that moment.

For that moment. Because of course the mud returned. And the cows, naturally - although they were really just scenery. None of them got angry. One did come very close to the trail, but I just kept running.

(The cameraphone pictures: Left: Some of the easy rolling non-muddy part of the course. The little dot is a cow. Right: The view -- everything is tiny from way up here! )

Of course what goes UP, must come DOWN.

While I did really well at not falling during most of the downward portions, one enormous hill finally forced me to take a tumble. And then another.

Finally I reached a straight portion and an aid station where the gentleman quipped, "Just another mile or so to go!" I smiled wide. I figured I just had to run back to the finish line. I could hear the finish-line music. I thought it was just a flat "go back to where you began."

Instead, I entered a mossy forest.

It was gorgeous in a different way than the hills had been. This time, it was dark and damp, bright-green mossy trees, and no kidding - a CREEK in my path. (Yeah, the race was called "Bear Creek" so I guess the whole "OMG I have to run through a creek!" shouldn't have been a surprise.)

The forest portion of the trail was single-file. That's scary with slippery mud, but most of it was packed down nicely. I kept going UP and DOWN and AROUND and AROUND. I could still hear cheers and other things from the finish line, so I didn't think I had far to go. And yet, the last portion of the trail was straight down, and then straight back up. I could see the spectators above me, but I was at the bottom of the darn creek. I never would have guessed that the race start would end up being at the bottom of one part of the race, but at the top of the finishing part.

I did all the little switch-backs to finally make it up the incline. And with a tiny portion of flat pavement, gave a kick (yes! I really did!) and finished!

This is going to be my Big Fish Story forever, I think. I can't believe I did it. It was the hardest, and yet most beautiful race (or hike, or walk) I've ever done. It was amazing on so many levels.

The kooky thing of course, is that afterward I felt simultaneously invincible --and ready to just curl up in a ball.

So I think I'll go rest... but only for a moment!

--

The Race Director wrote on Saturday night : "We don't need to tell you that it was a wild and woolly day on the trails today! The late rains of Friday night turned what were already tough trails into an all-out "mudfest" in many sections. Any question about whether you were a hard-core trail runner has surely been blown to smithereens!"

Hard-core Trail Runner. I like the sound of that!