I had LSD (long slow distance) on my training plan for yesterday. I tend to get bored after shuffling for 2 or 3 hours on roads which I know well, so I decided against running along the river towards the south as usual - "Hey, I try to run north long the bike trails instead" - and would you know it there would not be a moment of boredom :-). The map of the Graz's biketrails did not show a trail where I wanted to go, it just had this mysterious break in the bike trails for about 10K starting at my usual northern turnaround point. I had noticed before that a narrow trail was continuing on there so I decided to go for it. Suzie T with her Hard Rock 100 report, Will Brown's Bull Run run and some descriptions from the Barkley 100 marathon made me itch for some trails. Inspired by the reports from my fellow DRS runners I decided that whatever happened I would not turn around.

I hit the point where i usually turn back at 40 minutes, I set the lap time and went in. The trail snaked out into a meadow and continued on among the trees in the distance. The running was absolutely great, the trail was hard packed with a few erosions, the meadow sloping gently towards the river's edge, and i made nice progress. I passed a few people walking their dogs and a couple pushing a pram. A runner came towards me and he mentioned that the trail got more wild where he had turned around. The best part of the entire run was next, a meadow with wildflowers growing well above my head. The trail was like a canyon among these flowers and it felt like being in a ferry tale. Back into the woods, the trail narrowed and was often obstructed by trees and branches that had fallen across it. The river was only a few meters to my right and to my left was a steep bank with dense vegetation. Not many people had been on this trail lately and I bundu-bashed through some bushes to find the continuation of the trail. Another 100 meters and there was NO trail left at all - just dense brush, walls of stinging nettles, rose and berry bushes with gazillions of thorns, you get the picture. I afirmed again - no turning around! The nettles turned out the best bet and I cleared my way through what must have been a path many moons ago. I climbed over a tree, slipped and ripped a big hole into the side of my shorts. I then got stuck on a thorny bush with my singlet and ripped that too. I decided to head to the waters edge and see whether it would be any easier there. I finally opted to waded out to a sandbank and followed that. When the bank ended the water back to the shore was much deeper and very muddy - I waded through a strange redish brown, black goo smelling of sulfur and back through the bush I went. I twisted my ankle and banged my toe on a crack between rocks, but I could now see a bridge coming up around the next bend in the river. I clawed, climbed, bruised, banged and trampelled my way through the dense underbrush, reached the pillar of the bridge but found no way up. I ended up climbing a few meters, from there onto a rafter, I could reach the railing and climbed over. 47 minutes on my lap timer for a 2K distance - so that makes me 38-minute miler :-). I crossed the bridge, shuffled back to the bike trail on the other side, and finally reached home after 2,5 hours. As I hobbled into the flat with battered, soggy shoes, scratched and bloody legs, shirt and shorts ripped to shreads and mud-encrusted in some strange color, thorns stuck in my tussled hair, i was greated by my lady: "So, did you have a nice run?" I gave her a smooch, decontaminated on the balcony, showered and crashed on the couch, mumbling in my sleep something like "... no turning around ..."

You come and visit me in Graz, and if you like, I'll take you there,

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