"...you thought you could run, but you won't take a chance."

After my DNF at Cloudsplitter 100K in October - my 2nd DNF of the year - I was left scrambling for a race to finish the year with.  I did take away one positive from Kentucky, however: I covered 50K with almost 9,000 of climbing and still had plenty of gas left in the tank.  My fitness was sharp and wanted to really test it before 2014 turned to 2015.  In comes OPSF5050.

Billed as "Indiana's Toughest Footrace," which is likely true, OPSF5050 offers a 14 mile fun run, a 50K and a 50M.  Naturally, I went with the 50M.  Knowing nothing of the race or the course, I used social media to gather information and all I got was...mud.  And hills.  But mainly mud.  This brought back nightmarish images of the 2011 HUFF, which had several stretches of ankle-deep mud.  Not to mention the waist-deep water crossings.  Both of which beat me up pretty badly.  But that's how we learn!

Overtime picked up at work, and I was slightly concerned about not getting enough mileage to turn in a respectable 50M time.  Finishing is one thing, racing and really pushing yourself is another.  Many days I had to work 6:30am - 5:00pm (on my feet all day minus breaks) and then hustle to the gym to get a 2 or 2.5 hour run in before they closed.  This made for some long days but I kept telling myself it was worth it.  Plus, I rationalized, the extra time on my feet at work was toughening up the legs!

I decided to not taper all that much, because I HATE tapering and wanted to stay sharp.  I did back to back 20s the weekend before the race, and a hard 14 on the treadmill the Monday before.  I was ready.

For ultras that require travel I usually borrow my grandparents van because it has more room than my car, plus XM radio.  I hadn't planned on doing that since I only had about a 75 minute drive, but at the last second I decided to borrow it.  I ended up taking a lot of gear just in case, and XM radio is always soothing on long drives and race mornings!

The start/finish of OPSF5050 is at a remote campground in the forest, and I arrived at about 6:00am.  I picked up my packet/bib and returned to the van to lay everything out.  Rain was not on the forecast, but MUD was.  I had planned to change shirts halfway through the race, a plan that I stuck with and certainly helped me out.  I brought different gloves and hats, too.  All of this helped me stay relatively dry and aside from some slight hand numbness after the sun went down, I was never cold during the race.

It's tough to gauge pace or a finishing time on an unknown course, so I just ran comfortably, pushing the pace in places where I could and running conservatively when called for.  I missed a left turn in the first loop and lost about 15 minutes and came into the s/f in 3:06, completing loop 1.  "OK," I thought.  "Not shabby."  I changed socks, which turned out to be pointless because my feet were wet the entire day.  Plus I wasted a few minutes simply messing with my shoes, as they were CAKED with mud.  I came back in after the 2nd loop, having covered about 29 miles in pretty much right at 6:00.  Over 50% done!  Only a little more than 20 miles left!

Shortly after I started the 3rd loop, I started to feel bad.  My energy was waning and my breathing was getting harder and harder.  Not good.  I hydrated and devoured two peanut butter and honey sandwiches and a gel, and after about 10 minutes my energy returned!  Never underestimate the power of peanut butter.  I was still cruising along, never pushing too hard and never letting any negative thoughts into my head.  I am a firm believer that negative thoughts affect physical performance.  I knew it would be a grind and just kept telling myself the finish line is the ultimate reward.  And, unlike IT50, this 50miler had music (my iPod crapped in April so I ran about 45 miles without tunes...ugh).  It was just me, Phish and the trail.

I came in from the 3rd loop at about 9:32, ahead of the cutoff and still feeling great.  I downed a shot of Yerba Mate energy (thanks Bob Lynch for opening it for me!), a Clif Bar and a gel and was ready to head out for my last abbreviated (8 miles) loop.  I went out and had to come back because I forgot my gloves...that would have been a nightmare, I think.

The sun was starting to go down and it was getting chillier.  Overall I felt pretty good, minus some occasional twinges in my calves.  After each loop I made sure to drink Pedialyte and I think that helped stave off cramps.  I hit the last aid station with about 3 miles left and they asked if I needed anything.  I downed two cups of Heed and said "No thanks, I'm ready to finish this bad boy up."  I turned on my headlamp and made my way to the finish.

The last leg of the course is fairly technical, compounded by the fact that it was dark and I am not the strongest night runner to begin with.  I walked 90% of it, given the hills and the mud.  I was not about to face plant in the mud or lose a shoe IN THE DARK and have to stop and look for it.  I was cruising along and finally came to the sign that said "start/finish" with an arrow to the right.  I said to myself "fuck yeah!" and picked up steam to the finish.  There were several volunteers there and they cheered me home as I finished in about 11 hours and 45 minutes.  The energy and support was amazing!  I can't say enough about how great the aid stations were all day.

When I stopped running I started shivering, so I sat down by the fire to try and warm up.  Sipping Pedialyte, I was still shivering so I finally went out to the van, cranked up the heat and changed into dry clothes (duh).  I gathered my stuff, thanked the volunteers and left at about 8:00pm.

All in all, I am very pleased with my performance.  It certainly lived up to the billing of "Indiana's toughest footrace."  I also made a few new friends, which is always a highlight of any ultra.

No more races for 2014...unless someone talks me into running the HUFF.  I'll use Land Between the Lakes 50M in March as a tuneup for IT100 in April, which I plan on making my first 100 mile race!

OPSF5050...definitely on the radar for next year! 

(Photo credits to Indiana Trail Running)

"Let's Get Down to the Nitty Gritty...Let's Get This Show on the Road"

I caught wind of the 2013 IT100/50 last March, but had already committed to Planet Adventure's 50K at Winona Lake in early April.  I'm not big on running two ultras so close together, so I passed on IT100/50.  However, I vowed to make it my first 50M event of 2014.  

The long, cold winter was tough on everyone...but I really tried to not let it affect my training.  I sucked it up and spent lots of time on the treadmill and running stairs at my gym.  I also took spin classes and rode the spin bike by myself more.  All of this helped me get through the Land Between the Lakes 60K in horrendous conditions.  Miles and miles of slop and water to trudge through.  But as many ultra runners allude to, it builds character and helps you out in tough times down the road.  

Met up with a few nice folks here!

 I spent the Friday morning before the race at work, finishing up some post-inventory work.  Once I left there, I was able to gather my things and hang with a friend for awhile.  We ate at Pizza Hut and just generally goofed off and had a great time together, which put me in a light, breezy mood.  I hit the road for Chain O' Lakes (in Albion, IN) a tad later than I wanted, but arrived there at 7:30pm and decided to push my luck for packet pickup (which ended at 7pm).  Thankfully, RD Mike took the time to get my packet.  Of course, I left my bib there, but he messaged me immediately and I was able to snag it the next morning.  Settled into the hotel in Columbia City and was asleep, I think, by 10:30pm.  

2014 IT 100/50

 Promising weather and trail conditions had me totally geeked for the race.  Using my confidence from LBL60K and my winter/early-spring training, I was obsessed with running a sub-9:00:00 50M.  I had not run this course since the 2011 HUFF, which ended with me in the hospital the following evening with severe dehydration.  I believe this was due to pushing my body past its limits because of the brutal trail conditions (mud, water) and not hydrating properly post-race.  But that was then.  This was now.  I was ready.  

The race kicked off at 6am amidst a steady flow of headlamps leading out of the start chute and onto the trails.  It was dark, but the sun would be up within an hour.  The temperature was perfect and the trails were in superb condition.  My game plan was to run the first loop conservatively, possibly even right at 3:00:00, then start chipping away at the next two loops by periodic surges and attacking the hills.  I was placing my faith in all the treadmill incline and stairclimbing work I had done since the start of 2014.   I also firmly believe that all the time I had spent in the dry sauna at the gym had transformed my body into a super-efficient sweating and cooling machine.  

Beautiful weather!

I made sure to hit every aid station and drink at least two cups of Gatorade, and to fill my water bottle with water.  I snacked on fig newtons and PBJ sandwiches (cut into quarters).  I also had gels, Clif Bars and B12 energy shots with me in my pack.   

Instead of using a drop bag, I had supplies in my vehicle, so as I neared the end of the first loop I simply peeled off the course for a few yards, loaded up and got back onto the course.  This involved grabbing my iPod and firing it up.  Great!  Tunes, rhythm, zoning out and getting into a groove...for 8 miles.  It died halfway through the loop, so I was back to listening to my own thoughts.  Since I usually train with an iPod, this was unfamiliar territory.  But I adapted and settled in for the miles that lay ahead.  
 
Loop 2 ended with 5:54:38 showing on the clock, so I had 3 hours and 5 minutes to cover 16.67 miles.  My legs were feeling OK and mentally I was feeling strong, but I wasn't sweating as much as I normally did...and that concerned me.  I gulped a little more Powerade and water at my vehicle than I normally would have, praying my stomach could handle it.  Taking off onto the trails, I was repeating to myself "You want sub-9? You fucking go get it.  Do it right now."  
 

Found myself in a great groove all day. 

 I made a real effort to push the pace when I could, wondering when The Beast would show up.  I was ready to do some wraslin' with her.  She never made an appearance, so I kept hammering at a steady, consistent pace.  The miles rolled on, and I could feel myself tiring but I would not take anything over 9 hours.  I just wouldn't.  I hit the last aid station at 8:25:29, leaving me 34 minutes to cover 2.67 miles.  Barring a catastrophe, that sub-9:00:00 50M was mine.  
I ascended a few steep hills leading out of the aid station and then settled back into the groove that had gotten me through the first 48 miles.  I was coming up fast on a runner ahead of me, and as we both climbed a hill, he looked back and saw me.  He broke into a run and pulled away.  I tried to catch him but he was too strong.  Even though he had escaped, I met my overall goal of clocking under 9 hours, which I did when I crossed the finish line at 8:54:01.  Jubilation, exhaustion, relief, gratitude and ecstasy were among the emotions that overwhelmed me.  Upon receiving my finisher's medal ("Always earned, never given"), I walked around for a few minutes away from the runner's tent to gather my thoughts.  I wept briefly and silently.  Tears of joy and gratefulness to be able to do what I love, which is to explore my body and mind's limits.  I also wept because I thought of my friends and family, who have been nothing but supportive in my journey into the ultra world.  
The next morning I returned to the park, chipper and with minimal soreness.  It was breathtaking to watch a few 100M finishers, who had endured all night to cross that finish line, many whom had been on the course over 24 hours.  
As I drove home, I reflected on what a wonderful, rewarding weekend it was...while also planning my assault on the Park2Park Relay Ultra in June.  Onward and upward!  

Ultra #9 in the books.

All smiles post-race!

***  Special thanks to all the volunteers that made this event happen, not least of which the ones at the school house aid stations that sprayed me down with sunblock on multiple occasions.  Thanks!   ***

"Set the gearshift for the high gear of your soul..."

Farmdale didn't actually materialize until mid-last week.  I was set on running 8 Hours of Payne down at Paynetown SRA in Bloomington until the Federal government said "Ah, not so fast."  But since I was already in "race mode" after the sting of not running in Heritage Trail 26.2 on 9/29, I went scrambling for another race on short notice.  Someone on the FB group Indiana Trail 50 and 100 mentioned Farmdale in Illinois.  After some research, logistical planning and a few emails back and forth with the race director...I was in!

Originally intended to be run at Farmdale Reservoir in Peoria, this race was moved to Jubilee State Park 15 minutes away the week of the event.  I cannot praise the race directors enough, as I can't imagine how hard changing venues at the last minute would be. So I packed up and left Crawfordsville Friday afternoon.

It was a 5am start, and because I had so much gear/fuel/supplies I borrowed a bitchin' 2005 Pontiac minivan from my grandparents to sleep in.  Arrived at the campsite (which was 2-3 minutes from the start/finish) at around 6pm local time and got settled in.  I went and registered, got my bib, came back and finally fell asleep around 9:30pm. Alarm set for 3:00am to allow for plenty of time to sip coffee and stretch and just basically mentally prepare myself for running 50 miles.

Slept better than I thought I would.  After a quick hot shower to get the muscles loosened up, I drive 5 minutes to the next town over to get some coffee (A MUST).  Arrived back at the start/finish around 3:45am, with a full 75 minutes until start.  Got my gear together, snacked a little bit, stretched and then went over to the s/f at about 4:40.

The course was 7 loops of 7+ miles.  I had no idea on the elevation or the terrain, which made for a very apprehensive and slow first loop.  Mix in that we ran in the dark and it sprinkled on us a few times, and I was very uneasy and shocked when I looked down at my watch after the first loop and it said 90 minutes.  Of course, this can be attributed to the hills and elevation gains.  I would later learn - after overhearing a fellow 50-miler comment on his Garmin stats - that the vertical climbing totaled about 9,000 feet. 

After what felt like an eternity, the sun finally came up and I was able to ditch the headlamp and fully view my surroundings.  Since I thought it was unsafe to run an unfamiliar course in the dark while listening to music, I didn't actually put on my headphones until the start of the 3rd loop, some 3 hours after starting.  But once the tunes were cranked and I was able to hone in my focus, I locked into a great groove and the miles were churning by at a pretty steady pace.

A good assessment of how "tired" I am during any long run is the moment when my breathing starts to become heavy or labored.  Because I'm not running all that fast, in theory my breathing should be deep and forceful but I never anticipate being out breath until the late stages of a race.  Fortunately, this proved to be true on Saturday.  I climbed all of the steep and long hills in a walk, and I never noticed my breathing was labored on those climbs until after 40 miles.  And for what it's worth, I didn't use the "hands on my knees or hips while climbing a hill" method until sometime after the 45th mile.

The miles rolled on, and as my watch passed the 9th and 10th hours, I knew I was closing in on finishing.  With races above 50K, it's more about survival than anything.  It's a mental game between your brain and your body.  Your body wants to stop, but your head says to keep going.  Who will win the war of attrition?  I kept replaying in my mind over and over crossing the finish line and being able to say "I finished my 3rd 50-miler."  That alone pushed me through in 10 hours and 43 minutes, good enough for 4th place overall and 2nd in my age group.

39 runners started the race, and 27 of them finished.  Of those 27, only 17 finished in under the "suggested (?)" 13-hour cutoff time.

Roughly 48 hours later I'm feeling a bit sore, battling two large blisters on my right foot, but overall I feel pretty good.  Ready for my next challenge...whatever that may be.

MJ at 50

Michael Jordan turns 50 today.  As part of a generation that grew up while he was peaking in the NBA (and tormenting the Pacers), it's just another reminder of how old I am and the quiet but steady passage of time.  I have two very distinct MJ memories I'd like to share.

The first one came in June of 1991.  I was 9 1/2 years old and on summer break.  We had a basketball hoop in my driveway, so my sister and I were just starting to develop our legendary one-on-one games that culminated in screaming and, occasionally, punches and hair pulling.  The Chicago Bulls, meanwhile, had finally gotten past the road block that was the Detroit Pistons and were playing in the NBA Finals against Magic in his last hurrah. 
To say I was an MJ fan was an understatement.  I was not alone; any boy or girl who loved the game of basketball loved MJ.  That's just the way it was.  I didn't know any different.  He revolutionized the game while completely dominating it.  My grandfather - who owned a sporting goods store downtown - always made sure I had the latest Nike shoes and apparel.  I will always love him for that.  Included in that apparel was this jacket that reeked of badassery:

Anyway, the night the Bulls were to clinch their first title, I asked my parents to wake me up so I could watch, enjoy and share the revelry with MJ.  The game was in LA, so it was a late tip and a late finish.  Nevertheless, my parents did as I asked.  I staggered out to the living room, half-asleep and confused.  "What's going on?" I wondered.  "Why did they drag me out here?"  I could not make sense of the situation, even though they did exactly what I had asked them to do.  To this day I wish I had been more awake so I could have fully comprehended and appreciated the situation. 

Fast forward almost 12 years to April of 2003.  I'm a junior at Manchester College.  MJ had since retired twice and was on his third tour of duty terrorizing the NBA with his drive and will to win - even at 40.  His final NBA game was on April 16th, and I was writing a paper in my dorm room that night.  I was watching the game on my little 13" TV, which thankfully was next to my laptop, switching back and forth from the NBA to whatever paper I was writing at the time.  The minutes dwindled down, and opposing coach Larry Brown orchestrated it such that MJ could receive one final curtain call while exiting the game.  Washington's crowd gave him a standing ovation for a full three minutes.  I sat there, wide-eyed, staring at the screen.  Then, the tears started to flow.  I was choking up and could not control myself.  At the time, perhaps I didn't realize why I was so emotional, but now I realize that it was because it marked the end of my childhood.  My favorite basketball player of all-time - the guy I used to emulate in the driveway as the sun was going down - was never to play a game in the NBA again.  My adolescence had come and gone, and I was on my way to adulthood.

So as I sit here 10 years after bawling like a kid in Schwalm Hall, I revert back to what Trey Anastasio said on December 31st, 1995:  "The years just keep sliding by, don't they?"

Happy birthday, MJ. 

Dripping in This Strange Design...

Been a few months since my last post...summer has come and gone and now fall is rearing its (sometimes ugly) head.  It is a chilly, wet Saturday morning as I type this. 

I've always struggled with the changing of the seasons.  Spring and summer provide plenty of sunlight, long warm days, bright colors, and hot temps that are a runner's dream.  But alas, as with everything, nothing stays the same.  Plants start to die, the colors turn drab, the temps fall and things just don't seem as lively during the fall months.  I do love bonfires, running through leaves and enjoying the scenery that any given fall day in Montgomery County provides, but...I struggle with the change.  I do like consistency and routines.  I am, indeed, a creature of habit. 

One high point this fall came on Sunday, September 30th.  The Heritage Trail Marathon - put on by the fine folks at Planet Adventure Race - provided a fast and flat course to PR on.  Only my 3rd full trail marathon, the course was so fast and non-technical I obliterated my other two times (4:56 in June at Tell City and 5:18 in August at Eagle Creek) by well over an hour with a 3:50.  Not to mention a negative split: 1:58 out and 1:52 back.  Smart, positive running. 

The only bad thing to come out of that day was a nice gash I opened on my head around mile 16:

It hurt like hell for the first few minutes, as I picked up a leaf or two in an attempt to stop the bleeding.  No such luck, and apparently all the aid stations were chattering on the radio about a bloodied runner heading their way!  The staff of Planet Adventure and a Fort/WL Parks Dept employee, as well as a fellow runner, were VERY kind and compassionate when helping me after I finished.  I will never forget their assistance! 

Much like the seasons, another big change in my life took place as I had to say goodbye to someone very near and dear to my heart.  Not death-related, but heart related.  She played a very big role in my happiness over the past year, but sometimes two people aren't meant to be a couple, lovers, or even friends.  Sometimes, that's just the way things are and wrapping your mind around that is one of life's most difficult tasks.  You can accept it and move on, but it doesn't make it easier.  I love her with all my heart and always will.  She knows who she is and what she will always mean to me.  I wish her health and happiness.  <3

Looming on the horizon...The HUFF50K on 12/29 and Purdue men's basketball.  Both have the potential to be better than expected or huge disasters!  Purdue will take their lumps against the upper-echelon teams in the B10, and so I'm hoping for a .500 finish in league play with an 18-20 win season.  Maybe not an NCAA tournament team, but perhaps an NIT team.  Would love to get to WL this year to see the newcomers play!
 Until next time...one foot follows the other, one foot follows something new. 

Knockin' on Heaven's Door.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself.  "Who put those stairs there?"

I was plodding along in this morning's Eagle Creek trail marathon - 26.2 miles of trails that make Turkey Run look like Milligan Park - and I noticed the set of rickety wooden stairs up ahead.  With less than 3 miles to go, I wanted nothing more than to coast into the finish chute, fling my shoes and socks off and enjoy the misting tent of cool water Planet Adventure had set up for finishers.  But alas, 'twas not to be. 

I groaned, strained and took a few deep breaths before running (which gradually dissolved into a fast walk...and then a walk...and then a slow walk) up them.  "It's your last obstacle to conquer before it opens up.  Get up these and you'll be fine."  Easier said than done, dipwad. 

The day had started inauspiciously.  Upon opening the hatch of my Dad's vehicle, we discovered that I had forgotten my 96oz Camelbak backpack.  Oof.  The big boy.  Nowhere to be seen on a morning where the humidity was hovering in the 80s.  After a brief discussion, we determined that it was pointless to fret about it, as it was lying in the back seat of my car 45 minutes away.  I hatched a new race strategy, stretched, and we mosied on over to the start/finish line. 

Beginning (almost) promptly at 7:30, I felt good in the early miles.  Like...real good.  My splits - while I was actively trying not to look at them - were in the 11:15-11:45/mile range, which had me feeling pretty chipper.  I had set a pre-race goal of 4:30:00, but that was in optimum conditions.  These were not optimum conditions.  The air was thick and heavy...downright sultry. 

At around 10 miles, I slowed considerably.  I was feeling the effects of my lack of mileage due to the intensely hot June and July we experienced in Indiana.  Sure, I could have made up the miles on the treadmill.  But treadmill running vs. trail running are worlds apart, and I paid the price today. 

I came around and finished my first loop - 13.1 miles - in around 2:18.  Not overly concerned, I chalked it up to the humidity.  I took water from my Dad, ate half a banana and set out for loop two.  I had my handheld refilled and took a large water bottle with me as well, but had to ditch it after about 2 miles after discovering I simply couldn't run efficiently while trying to carry it (and 3 gels). 

We hop onto 56th St for a little less than a mile at miles 3-4, 9-10, 16-17 and 22-23.  Those last two were spent cooking in the sun, with absolutely no relief.  My plan was to make up some time there, but it fell apart as I was growing more weary with each mile.

At the 20 mile aid station, a woman met me about 25 yards before the station and took my handheld to fill up.  She said "You look better than some of the other runners that have been through here before you."  Whether there was any truth to that, I don't know.  But I loved hearing it and, at that point, needed to hear it. 

I set off on the last 10K as the strains of the June 28th, 2000 version of "Bathtub Gin" began.  Not an audience copy, but an actual soundboard copy.  My stride quickened and my head lifted.  The jam kicked in and Trey's melodic soloing - along with Mike dropping some huge bombs, Fish keeping a steady beat and Page laying down some fat chords - kept me going. 

The heat was bearing down on us, and my focus was now on putting one foot in front of the other.  My breathing had labored and I had to put my hands on my knees and semi-crawl up some of the remaining hills.  Jesus.  Why do I do this again?

I arrive at the last aid station - 1.1 miles from the finish - and took a shot of HEED and proceeded to make my way to the end.  There was no one within hundreds of yards of me in either direction (which is good...I didn't feel like bruising someone's ego or having my own ego bruised with a photo finish...oh who are we kidding, I love bruising ego's out on the trail). 

As the sounds of the PA announcer and music fill the air, I turn left into a clearing about 200 yards from the finish.  I see my Dad - a very welcome sight at this point in time - standing there encouraging me.  I give him a thumbs up and saunter across the finish line in 5:18:43.  Over 45 minutes past my goal time and 22 minutes slower than Tell City - a course with 8,800' of climbing! 

Today wasn't about timing or placing.  It was about redemption.  I had to live with last year's DNF for 12 months, and today was about shedding that monkey.  My 11th race of marathon-distance or more was not my best, but I am happy to be able to run as much as I do.  And for that, I am thankful. 

Have a cup of coffee and catch your breath.

I had a very weird dream last night.  They (who, exactly?) say all dreams have meaning.  What, then, does this one mean? 

I open the door to step outside into near whiteout conditions.  It's cold, dark, and I can barely see.  The wind is howling, it's snowing, and there's several inches of snow on the ground.  I am in a hurry, and I run to my car and start it up.  I let it run for a bit, and then carefully start driving down the road.  But...something is wrong.

The car doesn't seem to be moving as fast as it should be.  I accelerate, but pick up no speed.  It's almost like something is weighing me down.  "Could just be the extreme cold," I thought.  "But why does my car feel so...so...heavy?" 

And then I see it.

It was not noticeable at first, as I did a double take.  It was hanging down off the roof onto my windshield.  A white paw.  Not just any white paw.  A very LARGE white paw.  The size of a child's baseball mitt.  With black padding.  "Ummmm, what the...?"

I slowed down to less than 10 mph and rolled down my window and, as carefully and quietly as I could, stuck my head out of the window and peeked up onto the roof. 

Yep.  A polar bear was on the roof of my car. 

There it was, taking up the entire roof of my car, just sleeping.  I rolled up the window and tried to comprehend what, exactly, was happening.  I picked up a little speed and then applied the brakes sharply, wondering if I'd see him roll down onto the front of my car.  No such luck.  The paw disappeared, and I wondered if he was stirring...

...and he was.  I could hear the roof of my car groaning and straining under his enormous weight.  Panic was setting in at this point.  This had to be a dream, it had to be!  I watched as the speedometer crept up to 40, then 50mph and I suddenly braked and turned left sharply.  I slid for what seemed to be an eternity and looked over my right shoulder as the bear flew off of the roof, rolled several times into the snow, and disappeared.  I had no idea where I was but all I knew was that I was back on the road and a polar bear was no longer on the roof of my car.

Thought all day about what it could mean, but could not figure it out.