June 25, 2010

Friday running

My Saturday run happened on Friday.  The newspaper called for HOT again; 98 degrees.  Yesterday it took until 2 pm to get really hot; now that the front is over us, I knew it would happen a lot faster and boy, was I right.

The real reason my Saturday morning run happened on Friday instead of the coveted Saturday is that we’re going rafting tomorrow!  This trip has been on the books for months, and it’s finally here.  A friend is an experienced river guide and is taking us on a personal boat ride.  The kids have never been rafting, so this will be a trip to remember.  He has all the gear we need and all we need to bring is lunch and quick-drying clothes.  Check!

Back to the run today; hot, hot, hot.  I left the house at 6:30 AM with just my thoughts for entertainment.  No Garmin, no iPod, no hat.  Luckily I remembered my sunglasses.  A girl can’t live without sunglasses, right?  I’d be doomed if I ever lost this pair, as it’s my one and only.

Last night was a hard one, and I didn’t sleep well.  Plus, it was hot. Plus, I slept wrapped in a blanket next to the wet spot where Connor accidentally peed while snoozing in my bed.

Kirby was dying to go for a walk in the relative coolness of the morning, so we took a leisurely trot around the pond before I headed out for my solo run.  She’s twelve now, and not interested in running more than two miles, tops.  The grass is super-high along the greenbelt due to City budget cuts, and there’s apparently a wealth of smells to be had now that nothing gets mowed.  Our pace was pokey, to say the least.

After dropping her at the house I headed out again.  No pep in my legs, I was glad I didn’t have the Garmin.  Today was about moving and processing thoughts, not about pace, strength or speed.  Today’s run was the epitome of running; for me, and me alone.  I savored it.

The loop was one of my usual jaunts, only 4.5 miles.  I broke a sweat early because of the heat but didn’t push pace at all.  Slow and steady, lost in my thoughts, the first two miles melted away.  When I looked up again, I was under a bridge and memories of a heart wrenching conversation that happened yesterday sprang into my consciousness.   Tears prickled my eyes and I gasped at the sudden onslaught of emotion.  Not stopping was the best thing I could do, so I did it.  I kept running.

The intensity of the moment wore off and I snuffled loudly into the stillness.  Lost inside my thoughts again, I didn’t notice the scenery.  My legs were on autopilot and thankfully they knew where we were going.  As I turned up the last street on the way home, another picture from last night played out in my memory.  I sat with the emotion while it burst like a volcano through my core, and shuddered when it was spent.  I kept running.

Minutes later, I was home.  Hot, sweaty and flushed, I felt better after getting out.  One kid was awake, one was still zonked out in bed, and the shower was calling sweetly.

Running is one of the best forms of therapy I know of.  I can run as hard and fast as I want, and I’ll always be there in the end.  I can’t hide from myself when I’m with myself every step of the way.  I move through space and emotion equally, ending when I’ve dived ever deeper into the mysteries and complexities that are me.

Filed Under: Summer 2010 Tagged: , , ,
June 19, 2010

Attraction

I have a huge crush on running.  “Crush” isn’t the right word; it’s not a crush anymore, our relationship has more depth than puppy love.  To be perfectly honest, we’re soul mates.  I love running.  I love how we’ve matured together, weathered so many storms, how there are new nuances to be celebrated each and every time we’re together.

I have a visceral response to running that is akin to physical attraction.  I see other runners on the road and suddenly I’m grinning like a fool yelling “Runner!”  My kids have even started picking up on the game.  If I’m having a crappy day and we pass five runners on a drive into Boulder, suddenly life feels calm and Zen again.

I almost slept in this morning.  Seriously.  I almost slept in and skipped my Saturday morning run.  The alarm went off and there was no desire to yank my relaxed body from slumber.  I even let myself drift back to dreamland but Bill poked me and said “I turned the alarm off”.  My cue to get moving; he was done being awakened every ten minutes by sports updates.

Not feeling particularly spry this morning, I nonetheless dressed and headed out the door.  North Fork/South Fork was the preferred method of abuse today and I wasn’t particularly excited about facing the brutality of the hill.  No matter; any run is better than no run, regardless of location, distance, terrain, heat, rain, wind or… you get the idea.

We were a small group today.  After discussing the route so no one would get lost or left behind, we headed out after waiting ten minutes for Sarah, who never showed.  We started easily but within minutes I was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.  Elizabeth pointed out some beautiful wildflowers, which reminded me to pull my camera from my water bottle carrier and be ready for any shot that came along.  At the intersection of the Mesa Trail and South Boulder Creek trail, we ran smack into Sarah!  She ran from her house and cut through the meadow, brilliant woman that she is, and met us on the trail.

Foothills of Boulder, taken from the Mesa Trail

Somewhere in the first two minutes, things shifted and I relaxed into the run.  My legs felt stronger than I thought, my breath was easier than I would have guessed, and running was actually making me feel BETTER.  I wasn’t tired anymore and I didn’t want to be in bed.  I didn’t want to be anywhere but right there, on that mountain, with those shoes laced to my feet.

I started snapping a few pictures here and there, and turned around to record Sarah, my beautiful blond friend. 

Sarah, beautiful woman who is so much stronger than she thinks!

A moment later we crossed paths with a runner who smiled and asked “Are you Lara?”  I said yes, and he introduced himself as Dave, my runner friend from Twitter who lives in Louisville too!

Completely tickled to meet someone from my virtual life, my legs had a renewed kick and I plowed up Bluestem with a little more pep.  I adore this trail; the shadows, the overgrowth, the rocks and technical footing, the little muddy patches where trickles of water flow from one side of the hill to the other on its downward migration.  There’s always something new to see on a trail run and I adore the entire thing.

Beth and Kimmen were waiting at the top of Bluestem.  We all stood around for a minute or two until our last runner came into sight, then I took off again so that my heart rate didn’t dip too low.  Beth and Kimmen were right behind me, with Sarah, Elizabeth, Marcia and Amy following close behind.  We bumped up the Mesa Trail to North Fork and then danced our way down the trail til we got to South Fork, then started making our way back up again.  I had a moment of panic, wondering if I had led our group astray (I have serious memory deficits sometimes; things look different to me depending on the day, week, season, etc) because the trail seemed TOO EASY.  Where’s the UP, I wondered.  Not to worry; my instincts were correct.  I was lulled into thinking we had made a wrong turn because of the gentle incline of the bottom of South Fork, but after a few minutes of easy running our conversation stopped so that we could conserve breath to make it up the brutal hill.

I listened to my steady inhale/exhale as I climbed.  It’s not often that the only sound in my ears is my own breath, and I got a kick out of paying close attention to the sound of it.  Not just the sound of it, but the FEEL of air going in and out of my lungs.  My chest was wide open and welcoming, and the sound of air doing a little two-step in my lungs had a comforting quality.  It came whooshing out my mouth and nose in steady, regular intervals with a perfect one, TWO, one, TWO, one, TWO.  It never occurred to me to wonder if I was breathing too hard or if my heart rate was too high.  I was enthralled with the feel of breathing.

And then I wanted to see where I’d been.  I slowed to a walk and clicked a picture of Kimmen as she crested the hill.  We handed off the camera and she took a couple of shots of me having a blast as I knocked the socks off the hill.

Kimmen, running up South Fork

This is me, running up South Fork and having way too much fun for my own good. :-)

It was time to head back.  Beth doesn’t like downhills so I took the lead.  They must have waited for the next group to hit the top because I didn’t hear them much after that.  Lost in my own little world of meditative running, I bounced off rocks and blasted down the trail, listening to my breath, feeling the swing of my arms and the firm contact of my feet on terra firma. 

Steps heading back down Bluestem.

Running was good to me today, and I met it halfway.  We’re so compatible, running and I.  When I run I am more than I would be otherwise; wiser, calmer, fulfilled.  I languish in the splendor of the person I become when I run, and always look forward to the next time.  I am entirely and soulfully attracted to running.  Running makes me feel like a strong, proud, competent, beautiful, sexy woman, and that’s why I’m in love.

Filed Under: Summer 2010 Tagged: , , ,
June 14, 2010

Back from Camping

It’s been eight days since my last run.  The kids and I were on a camping trip in Wyoming and Montana, and it was just so incredibly relaxing to be there that I never had the urge to bust out and elevate the ol’ heart rate.  Now that I’m back though, I wanted to see what changes have occurred since I’ve been away.

A storm system settled over the entire Rocky Mountain region a few days ago, and now we’re in the tail end of it.  When I went out this morning the air smelled cool and damp but the sidewalks were mostly dry.  The long grasses in the greenbelt were heavy with moisture and bent with the weight of several days’ worth of incessant pounding rain.  The creek was down though, and no longer overflowed its banks.

I over-dressed this morning and wore my winter running pants, red long-sleeve and a rain jacket in case the rain came again.  Even though I checked the thermometer before I left the house, I forgot that 50 degrees means it’s warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt.  A camping trip will make you forget all the tricks you’ve ever known.  Okay, maybe it’s just me; I learn and re-learn things all the time.

The low music from my iPod was pleasant as I started up the greenbelt.  I sidestepped some wet clumps of grass, muck and worm remnants on the sidewalk and jogged steadily up the hill.  No dogs were out yet, most likely staying warm and dry in their houses.  The air was still.

Cresting the hill to the pond, I was surprised to see the high water level. My untrained eye estimated it was probably a good 8-10 inches higher than normal, though the banks weren’t anywhere near to flooding.  The trees were in full bloom and seemed wild with the early overgrowth of spring’s abundant moisture.

Following the path across the street, I settled into a meditative rhythm.  After eight days of no running, my muscles were as fresh as a baby and itching for some action.  I didn’t want to push it too hard though, knowing that I needed to move the muscles and get some flexibility back in joints that were a little stiff from road-tripping.

After ten minutes I pulled over and stopped.  I was burning up in my long-sleeve wicking fleece and rain coat.  I pulled both off, tied them around my waist, settled my hat again and set off wearing only my sports bra on the top half.  What freedom!  The sensation of air moving across my naked belly was heavenly; now that I didn’t feel like I would over-heat any second, my pace increased and I floated over the slight downhill near a flooded ravine.

An instrumental song started just as I headed into the underpass.  My mind floated away from the music and noticed the echo of my footsteps against the concrete tunnel walls.  It’s darker in the tunnel, and every time I round the corner to this tunnel my senses go into high alert.  A runner or cyclist can’t see into the tunnel until they’re right on top of it, which means they have to listen hard and watch for the whisper of shadow movement in the split second before you head under the street.  This time, as in most times I’ve run through this tunnel, I was alone.

A sign greeted me as I emerged from the tunnel:  “Caution: Rattlesnakes in the Area”.  Budget cuts in the city have eliminated the seasonal mowing which has had the wild effect of creating prime real estate for snakes.  Luckily, wet, cool mornings mean that the rattlers won’t be hanging out on the trail that I’m running.  I made a mental note to stay off the Coal Creek Trail in the heat of the day, as I have no interest in crossing paths with snakes.  Ever.

The music shifted again and Billy Pilgrim began crooning “Dixie Drug Store”.  I thought about New Orleans and considered what I’d do if I ever came across a voo-doo drug store run by the Widow of Paris.  The possibilities of a magic unlike anything I’ve ever seen is intriguing, to say the least, though realistically I’d be the unsuspecting boob that walked in and got duped.

Billy Pilgrim stayed with me as I turned the last corner in my loop.  Heading up the .6 mile hill to my house, I concentrated on staying strong and relaxing my shoulders.  A fine mist began to appear out of thin air and I busted through it as though it were paper, imagining that I was leaving a cut-out of myself along the sidewalks of Louisville that only rain Gods could perceive.

I arrived home cool, sweaty and utterly happy with my exertions.  The loop was just under five miles and I noted the time when I walked in the front door; just about forty minutes, on the nose.  I didn’t wear my Garmin this morning because I didn’t want an awareness of time to impede my enjoyment of the run (plus, if it started to rain again I didn’t want the thing to get wet).

It’s good to be back on my old stomping grounds.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll run a little longer and see what the Mesa’s been up to.

Filed Under: Summer 2010 Tagged: , ,
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