Take Two; or, “Oops, I Did it Again”

This story is a two-parter, really. My Saturday morning run was prefaced by the events of Friday’s run, twenty four hours prior. Missy and I met at the Mesa Trailhead in Eldorado Canyon at seven AM. We were playing around with her awesome digital camera trying angles, testing the light, and working with motion shots. She was game for experimenting with my concept of taking action shots of our weekly runs, so we were practicing beforehand.

Time was of the essence for both of us; we went a total of two miles before turning back. At 8:00 we piled back into our cars. She had to get home to her little boy so her husband could get to work, and I had to find out if my darling Sophie Sunshine was going to school. Sophie stayed home from school on Wednesday and Thursday due to an incessant cough, and Bill and I were unsure how she would be feeling. If she wasn’t better and stayed home, then I had to hurry so Bill could drive the carpool to school.

As it was, Sophie ended up going to school and I realized with glee that I had TWO WHOLE HOURS before I had to be anywhere! It was 8:00 in the morning; I was at a trail and already warmed up from a jog around the flats. What should I do?

Being me, I couldn’t resist the call of the mountain. I took a few swigs of water from my bottle, locked the car, and headed out again.

The dawn light had cleared to pure daylight. The air was crisp, a brisk 35 degrees that held a promise of warmth. The weather forecasters called for a balmy day in the upper 50’s, though those temperatures were still a few hours’ away.

I decided to re-trace my steps and run Upper Bluestem to the Mesa Trail, and then figure out where to go from there. The ground was still frozen with the snow and ice that had melted into the trail, making it crunchy but not too slick.

Running alone made the time feel more elastic. Sixty seconds can stretch on for minutes at a time when my heart rate is elevated; on the other hand, sometimes full sections of the hour pass seamlessly in the time it takes to wipe the sweat from my face. I had forgotten my iPod in the car; the music would have helped to keep track of time, but I’ve never run on these trails with music so it didn’t even occur to me to bring the device.

I panted to the top of Upper Bluestem and paused for a breather.
I decided that I would run the Mesa Trail to North Fork, do the descent and then ascend up South Fork to the Mesa Trail again. We’ve done this run many times and our group considers it to be our hardest hill work-out. The loop usually takes about 20-25 minutes, I think… it’s hard to say, I’ve never timed it. That’s what it feels like it should take though, so supposing I do the loop then I will have completed the run in just over an hour. It’s a beautiful day, the air is warming up, the sky is a brilliant Colorado blue, and I’m not pressed for time.

All goes according to plan as I start heading down North Fork. I’m totally zoned out by my enjoyment of my body’s easy movement. It takes a good long time before it gradually occurs to me that I’ve been running this trail for a really long time. After several miles I came upon a row of houses at the base of the mountain. Oops. Looks like I missed the right turn onto the south trail that would take me back up South Fork. I stop to examine the map that is helpfully placed at the convergence of the trailhead. Yup, I’m at the base of North Fork. Looks like I was supposed to turn onto South Fork about a mile ago.

Deciding not to backtrack and scrapping my plan to do South Fork, I figure out that in order to get back to the trailhead I need to keep going south where the trail will cut through the meadow to and drop me at the trailhead. This looks to be about two miles away, though I’m not sure I’m reading the map right. Maybe it’s three miles. I’m starting to get tired now, the tired that happens when you know you’ve pushed yourself and it’s time to get a drink of water and move on with your day.

It must be about 8:45 by now. I don’t have my GPS to mark the time or distance, so I’m guessing based on where I am and the heat in the air. It’s getting warmer and the back of my SmartWool hat is soaked with sweat. The sun is hot on my face and I’m wishing for my sunglasses.

I find the South Fork Trail and run smoothly. After a minute I see a tiny trail veer off to the south. Could this be the one I’m supposed to take to get back to the Mesa Trail parking lot? It looks too small to be the right one, so I continue up.

After about ten minutes I come to a green water tank. What is THIS?? I’ve never seen this tank before. I’m definitely in uncharted territory. There’s a sign post that points to the left, telling me the South Fork Trail is going to keep going up. Ugh. I think I was supposed to take that little trail to the left. Should I keep going, or turn back? If I keep going then I’m committed to South Fork, which I know is a killer. If I turn back then I might hit the unknown trail and go who-knows-where, maybe even down to Trailer Park instead of the Mesa Trailhead.

It can’t be too much farther to the top. Up I go. The trail is getting harder here because it’s STILL a sustained uphill AND it’s snowy with ice patches. My heart has been pounding at a constant rate of “really hard” for over fifteen minutes. My legs aren’t chugging along very fast anymore. I’m not even watching the scenery. It’s all I can do to make it up this hill.

Twenty minutes later I finally get to the top of this hill. From here, I have to climb the jeep road to get back onto the Mesa Trail, where I will then backtrack to Upper Bluestem, go down Bluestem to the base of the Mesa Trail, and back to the parking lot. I think I’m about thirty or forty minutes from the car. The good news is that the uphill is almost over.

By the time I get back to my car it’s 9:40 and 53 degrees. My hat is soaked, my sports bra feels like I jumped into a swimming pool with my clothes on, and my legs are a little tired. I drain my water bottle, blow my nose, and grin. It was a lot of fun.

I checked my email later that morning and laughed when I saw the suggestion for Saturday’s run. “How about we meet at NCAR, and run North Fork and South Fork?” Yeah, how about that? Since I JUST did it a few hours ago? Actually, it would be good for me. Maybe the gang can point out where I should have turned from North Fork to cut over to the South Fork trail without going all the way to the bottom of Shanahan Ridge.

Day Two: By Saturday morning I was ready to run again. The weather was supposed to be nice again, mid 50’s or so with mostly clear skies. Susan picked me up at 6:45 and on the ride to Boulder I tell her about my trail adventure yesterday. She laughs at my mistake of going too far on North Fork and extending my run by a full forty minutes. I’m laughing too; it’s a pretty funny thing to do, given that I know these trails so well.

It’s a smaller group than usual, only eight of us. Shari and Susan take off first, followed by me and Beth, then Juli, Missy, Celia, and Savannah. Kathy is in D.C. this week for Obama’s inauguration and is missing two trail runs. Bernadette has an audition at 9:00 in Denver, and several others are gone because of skiing and kids’ games.

We head down the trail from NCAR and immediately start picking our way up the first hill to the water tower. We all make it without falling… it’s the return trip that will be dicey. My new trail shoes allow me some grip and I feel good about the traction, but there’s no telling how the downhill will present when we come back in an hour.

The run is uneventful as we head south on the Mesa Trail toward North Fork. Yesterday I started south of North Fork and worked my way northwest. Today I’m starting from the northwest and heading southeast. I know these trails from years of running and hiking on them. At almost any given point I know where I am.

The four of us (Shari, Susan, Beth. and me) reach North Fork and start down. The others know where they’re going too, so we don’t wait to regroup. We’re busy talking and laughing, while keeping close tabs on the trail directly in front of us. Even with the warm weather yesterday there’s still plenty of snow and ice from yesterday’s melt, forcing us to pick our trajectories with care.

And suddenly, we’re at the bottom of North Fork running toward the large map at the base of Shanahan Ridge. Oops.

“This doesn’t seem right, I think we went too far,” Susan comments.

“This is exactly where I ended up yesterday!” I burst out with a laugh. I can’t believe that this happened two days in a row. This run has snuck up on me, playing a joke like an old friend that knows my every move. Britney Spear’s song “Oops, I did it again” starts playing in the background of my mind. I feel like I just donned a blond wig and lost forty I.Q. points.

“We must have missed the turn-off onto South Fork.” Shari is stating the obvious here.

“Hunh. Well, at least we know where we are,” Susan declares.

I’m laughing hard by now. The irony of the situation is too much for me and it’s pushed me over the edge.

“That’s exactly what I said too! ‘I know where I AM, it’s just not where I meant to BE’.” This run has taken on a surreal quality, where my friends are experiencing the same random turn of events that happened to me just yesterday.

Instead of trying to go in southerly direction like yesterday, today we’re headed back to NCAR. This means that we are literally only half-way through our run. There’s no short-cut here to cut across. We have to go back up, so we cheerfully start up South Fork. It’s a long climb and I know only too well now how hard it gets. Reaching the water tower, Shari and Susan start running around the side. I call them back and point out the small trail with the sign telling us to go up. “See?” Shari says to me. “It’s lucky you did this yesterday, otherwise we’d all be bushwhacking up the hill in search of a trail!”

Yes, isn’t it lucky?

“I did a good ten mile run yesterday with Juli,” Shari tells us. The parallels between us are too much for me and I giggle. “My butt is going to be TIGHT after this one!”

On we go. This is a brutal trail, a never-ending hill that puts the old “Buttkicker Hill” to shame. How long is it? I can’t even look at my GPS, I’m working too hard. No talking now, just putting one foot in front of the next.

“Maybe we’ll meet up with the others at the Mesa Trail,” Susan says hopefully. I doubt it. The others would have to be extremely slow to do half the distance we just did and still meet us at the same point.

Finally we crest the jeep road and merge onto the Mesa Trail. We’re several miles south of NCAR, and the trail up here doesn’t see much sunshine. There’s still a good four or six inches of snowpack that has gone through several phases of thaws and freezes, so our pace slows. On one section of stair-steps we’re at an almost literal stand-still, gingerly picking our way down the sides of the trail. Two runner men come upon us and easily pass us, their shoes gripping the icy steps as my foot slips and I flair my arms in a desperate attempt at balance. I have the distinct feeling of suddenly being out of my element.

“Why can they go so fast??” Beth asks in awe.

“They’ve got at least forty pounds on us,” I point out. “They don’t slip and slide as easy as we do.”  Shari and Susan manage to get ahead of me and Beth as we carefully make it through the ice fields, chatting easily about life, careers, and finances. At one point my right foot slips forward, my knee locks, and I’m looking a hard fall right in the face. I let out a yell to scare it away; it works, because my muscles engage and even though I’m more than half-way into my interpretation of an Ice Capades skater my left foot has remained rooted and I pull up. Miraculously, I haven’t pulled a muscle, I didn’t fall, and I’m unscathed.

“Are you okay?” The call comes up from the ravine down below… Shari and Susan heard me yell.

“I’m fine,” I call back. This is no place to be out running alone. If I should fall and clonk my head or bust an arm, I desperately want a friend who can help pull me out of the forest.

Beth’s eyes are big. She saw me slip and is amazed I didn’t go down. Me too, actually.

We’re on the backside of NCAR now, and I point the trail out to Beth. All we have to do now is take a hard right, run up the hill to the water tower, down the scary stair steps, then up the windy trail to NCAR and the parking lot. We’ll be there in ten minutes.

As we’re picking our way down the icy trail from the water tower I look up suddenly. The road leading up to NCAR is directly below me, as are Susan and Shari. “Oops, we missed the turn!” I can’t believe it. Twice on the same run, missing turns that are so familiar, so easy. I’m so stumped I can only laugh. This run has turned into a comedy of errors.

“Don’t worry, just come down, it’s not too far from here,” Shari calls. She’s waving to us to join them on the street.

Beth’s game for the road, so we finish our descent and top off the hour-forty adventure with a little road running. Nothing like missing your turns TWICE, on trails you know like the back of your hand.

Back in the parking lot Missy is waiting with Shari and Susan. The others left a long time ago, either heading to the coffee shop or home. Susan checks her watch; it’s 8:45 and she has to get home. We skip the coffee shop and enjoy the ride back to Louisville, laughing about our adventure on familiar trails.

I can’t believe I ran the trails twice in two days, and made the same mistake both days. I used to think that anyone that made the same mistake twice is not paying attention, or just dumb. Guess I should examine myself a little here, because my I.Q. has been tested as above average and I’m a multi-tasking mother who’s sole job it is to ALWAYS pay attention. I better go back and listen to the lyrics of Britney’s song; maybe the diva who forgets to wear underpants in public has some actual insights into human behavior.

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