I couldn’t braid my hair this morning; it took four tries to get all the hair in there. I was a little worried at first that my braiding fiasco was going to be a precursor to bad things happening later, but apparently not.

When I arrived at the trailhead it was NOT 25 degrees and sunny; it was 12 degrees and cloudy. Thankfully I was dressed moderately well and after the first mile my hands warmed up inside my SmartWool liner gloves. My running friend Jo joined us this morning and we chatted about the state of our worlds, up until we got to mile two and a big hill.

I was in the middle of some explanation about a book we had just read for book club called “The City of Thieves”. I was yakking away about the plot and the time frame when we came up behind a few other runner friends. Adriana heard me coming and said, “You have breath for talking and running up a hill, you go first!” so we passed her and Marcia.  A minute later I was still talking and we came up behind two more friends. I passed them and turned around to talk to Jo some more… she had disappeared.

The trail wasn’t muddy at all today. The little snow we received yesterday didn’t do any damage to the single-track, and it was easy to find footing on the soft dirt. I didn’t have my sunglasses with me and was grateful that the blazing sunshine didn’t come out to ruin my eyeballs.

Another hill and I kept pushing pace. Fragments of a conversation I had with a friend a few days ago kept rolling through my head. I had been telling him about a time back in April when I was so numb from emotion that I ran hard just to feel the pounding of my heart that told me I was still alive. I said that I could never do that again but he heartily disagreed. He opined that maybe I wouldn’t TRY to do it again, but I had the ability. It’s always with me. I thought about that as I looked ahead and saw the leaders of our pack. I was gaining on them.

I cleared my mind, breathed deeply and concentrated on the slight chill of my legs, my rhythmic breath and the uneven terrain in front of me. I rolled my ankle last week and there was no pain. I was 100% again.

The hill kept going, I pushed pace and suddenly I had caught up to the leaders. I carefully put my hand on my friend’s back to let her know I was there; she jumped a mile high and I grabbed her arm to steady her. Guess I should have told them I was coming up behind them. We said Hi and I kept going up the hill, grinding out my own pace.

Two minutes later I was at the water tower, on the top of the hill overlooking all of Boulder Valley. Snowcapped mountains and swaths of brown, bare trees dotted the landscape. A dormant, cold January morning that pulsed with a thread of possibility.
I pushed pause on the Garmin and walked for a minute to keep my muscles warm as I waited for my two friends to crest the hill. Behind them, about a half-mile away, another group of women were making their way towards us. I couldn’t see the tail end of the gang; they were still somewhere farther behind, hidden from view by a rolling hill.

Alison and I decided to do the 8-mile loop. Immediately my small friend in the red jacket that had jumped out of her skin decided to turn back with the group. The cold was hurting her lungs and she described it as “breathing through charcoal”. Alison and I headed to the bottom of the hill where we took a sharp turn to the south and circled the base of the neighborhood that butted up against the open space. Frost clung to the hair that peeked out from under her cap. Our legs got a slight reprieve on the flat on the meadow, and then we headed uphill again and elevated our heart rates on the soft dirt trail.

We rounded out the lollipop loop and headed back. It was mostly down hill from here and since everything still felt good (but cold) we picked up the pace. Chatting all the way, the miles melted away and suddenly we came up behind the caboose of the group that had turned around early. They scooted over for us and let us pass. Alison was getting tired.

Another big descent and suddenly she wasn’t there anymore. I had a brief moment of déjà vu on a sharp turn that catapulted me back into reality and the present. My mind had drifted and it returned with a jolt. I tucked in my arms, navigated a tight hairpin turn, said Hello to a runner heading the opposite direction and added a bit of speed. A quick glance at the Garmin told me I had dropped into the 7-minute/mile range.

Two minutes later I passed another runner from our group and cranked up the speed just a little bit more. Could I catch the next group before the trailhead? Alison had cheered for me as I pulled away from her, calling out “Go catch them all!”. Could I do it?

Three runners were in sight now; I added a little more juice to the legs and dropped to a 7:30/mile pace. Reel them in. A quarter of a mile later I passed them, and plowed up the last 200 yards to the trailhead, hitting Stop on the Garmin.

The gang assembled at the trailhead and we laughed to see the frost covering everyone’s hair. Apparently only one side of my braids were white; maybe my exhale was caught in the breeze and froze only the right side? No matter. It was time to get out of the cold and head to the warm coffee shop where piping hot beverage awaited us, our reward for a job well done.

In my car I caught a glimpse of my face in the rear view mirror. My eyes were bright and my skin was red with cold. A smile floated over my features and the crinkles around my eyes were loud and happy. This day felt good. The run felt great. The friendship and laughter of the women was warmth that filled my belly with happiness. Each piece of the puzzle melded together to create a huge canvas that held the message “This day is a gift. You are loved. – the Universe”.

I tucked that love in my back pocket and headed to the Brewing Market where I placed my order for a Mint Mocha, a decadent little coffee treat to celebrate the gift of the day.

The Boulder Trail Running Breakfast Club met at Dowdy Draw at 8am. I didn’t know anyone that was going to be there, and figured this would be a good way to meet some new people and see some new territory.

I pulled into the parking lot and saw a lot of people and several dogs. Everyone was super-friendly and it was easy to strike up a conversation. The first person I talked with was a guy named Matt that lives in the North Boulder area. He’s relatively new to the area and has attended a few of these meet-ups.

And then, my friend J pulled into the parking lot! We made eye contact through the windshield and hugged hard when she jumped out of the car. What a great surprise!

It was windy at the trailhead and about 30 degrees, though everyone was aware that the temp was supposed to hit a high of 60 by early afternoon. As we stood around the sun crested the hill behind us and flooded our little valley in golden light; immediately the air felt a good 10 degrees warmer. I thought about stashing my jacket in the car then decided to keep it on. I’ve run one too many times this winter under-dressed, and I’ll be damned if I do it again. Besides, I had the Nathan hydration pack on my back and could easily slip the jacket through the loops and carry it once I needed to strip off a layer.

We headed out and there was a collective beep as everyone hit the Start button on their Garmin. I was curious about the elevation gain/loss on this run, and wanted to be able to upload the info after the run.

This run starts with a steady uphill climb. A few hardy guys took off ahead of me, and the rest of the pack was behind me. I ran for a few minutes with Scott, the group organizer. We chatted briefly before someone else passed us and he dropped back to socialize with someone else.

Then we were on single-track and the ground got muddy and wet in sections. Ice layered other pieces of trail and there was no looking up at the pretty; I had to keep my eyes focused on the ground. If there was any conversation behind me I didn’t hear it. The metronome of my breath and the wind in my ears was all the music there was.

At the trail junction we paused and waited for everyone to catch up. J and I chatted about the status of our lives and then laughed really hard when a gust of wind came from the west and pushed us both backwards. She said, “We need rocks for our pockets!” and I thought that was a good way of saying that two skinny runner girls are no match for Boulder winds.

We wove through the fairy forest on our way to the fire road that eventually leads to Eldorado Canyon and pulled over for another runner group that was headed our way. Scott apparently knew these guys and told us they were running a 50k today; looping through the forest a few times to get in the miles. These guys all wore shorts, doo-rags and had hydration packs on their backs. As we made a hole and they turned left to hit the next junction they smiled at us. Just a walk in the park, Kazanski.

At this point the people with dogs took another route and those of us without 4-legged friends headed up the single-track of Goshawk Ridge. This is a beautiful loop in the summer, full of wild flowers and popping with color. Today though ice littered the trail and I found myself speed-hiking through some sections, picking foot placement and trying to stay upright by missing the slick ice that hadn’t seen sunlight in days. I could hear someone breathing behind me but since they didn’t ask to pass I didn’t turn my attention from my feet. We continued this way for what felt like about 10 minutes, until we popped off the single-track onto the main Mesa Trail.

The woman behind me finally spoke and said, “Thanks for leading the way. I wasn’t sure how to get through that so I just attached myself to you and followed your feet.” I laughed because there wasn’t any rhyme or reason to my meandering; I had zenned it the whole way down.

We paused again and waited for the group. Scott talked about some different runs that he’s led, most on sections that I haven’t tried before. In the summer time he heads up elevation and hits the Continental Divide; these runs in the Foothills in the winter are just training runs for the good stuff later in the year.

A few minutes later everyone was gathered and we ran a few minutes down to Fowler Trail. Imagine 20 trail runners all bunched together on a one-lane dirt road that sits in the shade on a steep hill. Now imagine that there are some big guys and small women. Now imagine that you’re one of the small women and two big guys are in front of you and you can’t see more than 5 feet ahead of you and suddenly Big Guy Number One slips and careens into Big Guy Number Two. He bounced off Number Two and we all kept going, never breaking stride. When we stopped again I told Number One that I was really happy he didn’t hip-check me; I would have gone flying.

We ran through Eldorado Canyon and down into the town, where we crossed to the north side of town and headed onto the Old Mesa Trail. This was new territory for me; I had never jumped onto this trail and connected the two sides of the mountain like this. Scott told us, “Hope you’re warmed up. The first six miles were fun and all, but the real running starts now.”

He was right. Immediately we headed up again. My pace fell to a whopping 17:51/mile, as I was mostly hiking now. We gained about 2000 feet over the next two miles and my right glute started complaining about the climbing. I didn’t care too much; as long as my heart held out, my butt was along for the ride.

Finally the trail leveled out, we dipped down for a minute, did one last ascent and then we were on Big Bluestem, heading down. Scott stood at the junction, made sure those of us heading back to the parking lot took the right trail and waved to the folks who were extending.

A minute later heavy breathing alerted me to someone coming up on my six and I moved over to let him pass. It was Scott; he didn’t want to pass so we ran together down the remainder of the trail. This part was soft on the shoes but not icy, a welcome relief from the protected sections of trail on the higher elevations. As we made our way down the pace picked up and we coasted along. My foot rolled suddenly and I made a noise; Scott checked in and chatted with me to keep my mind off it for a minute until the owie went away.

Big Bluestem dumped us onto the Mesa Trail, and we were home free.  The air was warmer now, probably sitting pretty at 50 degrees. My pink jacket bounced along in my hydration pack and my legs were sticky with sweat in the black running pants. I pulled off my SmartWool hat and carried it the rest of the way in my hand, hoping the breeze would cool my head a little.

Back at the parking lot I stripped off my gear and hit Stop on the Garmin. 9.88 miles in 1 hr 59 minutes and 15 seconds. I considered doing a quick tenth of a mile around the parking lot to round out the mileage and then decided that I was okay with what I had run. Time to stretch and head to breakfast.

Later at home I checked the stats of the run. Ascent: 17,631 feet. Descent: 22,180 feet. Overall pace: 12:04/mile. 9.88 miles total in approximately 2 hours. This was a sweet trail run and a good start to my marathon training!

Instead of heading to Core Power for an hour of hot yoga that would highlight every ache and pain in my weak ass, I went out for a run during a break in the massive windstorms of the past week. It had been four days since I last ran and my legs felt like a milk-logged Fruit Loop; colorful on the outside with no substance on the inside.

I turned to my tried-and-true comfort food run and headed up to Davidson Mesa, hoping that the exercise would clear my head and give me a chemical endorphin high because lately, my best friend caffeine hasn’t been cutting it.

Except I was tired. Couldn’t feel the love of the motion. I pushed through it by refusing to look at the Garmin to see how slow I was actually going. At the backside of the Mesa the wind kicked up again and I held onto my hat and tucked my head so the breath wouldn’t get ripped from my mouth. At one point the wind actually pushed me sideways into the path of an oncoming cyclist; it crossed my mind that we might become intimately acquainted on the ground if one of us couldn’t stay upright.

But no, that slo-mo movie sequence never happened, and a few minutes later my back was to the wind and I was alone with my thoughts. Those thoughts of mine aren’t always the best company… I’m just sayin’.

Today, six miles into the run and I’m ready to be done. I’ve been putting off making a Marathon Training plan for the upcoming Colorado Marathon because I didn’t want to face reality. But today, feeling like a soggy Fruit Loop, reality barged into my head and refused to leave.

When I signed up for the marathon I was coming off of my first Ultra and felt like I could do anything. I was such a bad-ass… 35 miles was no big deal, so sure, I should sign up for a marathon with my friends. Nice logic, hunh?

But now, six miles into the run and I’m whooped. I remembered how tired I was after 18 miles on the road. I remembered how much my legs rebelled after a long run and how I was a couch potato for the rest of the day. I remembered how tired I was, so often.

Over the next two miles this little pity-party in my head that had started as a side show on open mic night threatened to morph into an all-night dance club complete with electric guitars, drums and raging hormones. I thought about my friends running the race; they all have spouses to support them emotionally and logistically during the training cycle and considered pulling out of the race.

So then I started thinking about how other single parents balance training cycles and their dreams. If no one is there to lean on, how do people find the support they need to keep going?

The last piece of the puzzle for me was Expectation. In my first marathon I didn’t know how it was going to feel or what my time could be, except that everyone I talked to was sure that I was going to qualify for Boston and pull in something around 3:30-3:40.

This time around I’m not racing in another state and I’ll have friends running the marathon too. This time around I don’t have a spouse to support me during the training cycle. This time around, I have to support myself by sleeping enough, eating the right calories, and cross training enough so I don’t hurt my body.

The other morning I ran with a fellow DailyMiler trail runner. He’s running the Colorado Marathon as well, and follows the same training plan I do. Run when it feels good, hit the trails as often as possible, and enjoy every step of the way. Cross train. Sleep. Eat. Have fun.

After looking at typical marathon training plans and feeling that lump in my stomach that only usually visits after eating a Gluten-Free Buffalo Burger with bacon, cheese and mushrooms, I decided to do what I do best.

Trail run. Train on the mountain as though I were training for an Ultra. Mix it up a lot, cross train, lift weights, swim, and take it easy on myself. I know that for me, 40-45 miles per week is about the limit of what I can do before I get burned out. So I need to make those miles count in the best possible way, and running trail is the best bang for my buck.

I’m a natural runner that has never tapped into my potential. I get that and embrace it. I probably won’t get a lot faster before I start getting slower with age. The days when I’m feeling really competitive and frisky are the days I’m bothered with this, and other days I see myself through my Zen lens and I have a pile of compassion the size of Super Target for the soul and body that hang out together under the heading of “Lara”.

I don’t know how this training cycle is going to play out. I just hope that when I toe the line for the Colorado Marathon in May, I don’t look like the Fruit Loop that I am.

I needn’t have worried.  After the race I popped 2 huge blisters that had formed on the sides of each big toe.  The arches of my feet were a little swollen and my legs were tired, but that was about it.  After sitting in a booth for an hour at the Moab Brewery my left hip flexor got tight, and I limped to the bathroom.  That night I stretched out on my sleeping bag inside my tent, out of the desert wind, before crawling into the warmth of the bag and snoozing for 12 hours.

The next morning I got up, packed my gear and drove home.  My legs were a little sore, but mostly it felt like I had just run a 2-hour trail run in the foothills of Boulder.  No big deal.  The 6.5 hour drive home wasn’t bad, and by Monday I was ready to run again.

I gave myself another rest day and hit the Bobolink trail Tuesday morning for a little shakeout to see how the muscles were firing.  All was well and during my 60 minute run I hit an easy 9:10/mile pace.

I returned to the streets Thursday morning for a quick 5k run around the neighborhood.  The 8:23/mile pace felt speedy compared to anything I’ve done recently, and left me itching to incorporate more speed into my workouts.

Friday morning I ran with a few other local runners (Dave, Leo and Joanna) at the Boulder Reservoir.  I wanted to run longer than they were going to run, so I arrived a few minutes before 6am and took my headlamp for a little 4-mile spin around the Res.  I met up with the rest of the group at 6:30 and we pulled in another 6 miles, for a total of 10 miles in 90 minutes.

Saturday morning I met at the girls at Mesa Trailhead in Eldo Canyon for our weekly trail run.  I hooked in with 4 other women and we powered up Big Bluestem on our way to South Fork.  We extended a bit past North Fork and then backtracked and did the North Fork/ South Fork butt-kicking loop, before lollipopping back to the Mesa Trailhead for a total of 8 miles in 90 minutes.

I’m surprised by the fact that I’m actually fine.  I lost a few pounds between Friday (pre-race) and Tuesday, when my appetite finally kicked in again, but I’ve regained the weight and all muscles seem to be working.

People keep asking me “what’s next?”  I don’t have another race on the books.  It feels good to have accomplished the Ultra, and I absolutely want to do another one, but I’m really happy to not have something on the calendar.  Right now, I just want to run for the enjoyment of it.

I woke after seven solid hours of sleep and decided that if I missed the run, I would kick myself for the rest of the weekend.  I needed to get outside, feel the sunshine and enjoy the company of other women.  I needed to get out of my head.

I thought about eating something and grabbed a banana for the road, just in case the urge to eat ever came back.  It didn’t, so I left it in the car for my post-run recovery fuel.  If I was hungry.

When I left the house the car thermometer read 56 degrees.  During the drive from Louisville to Doudy Draw it dropped to 46 degrees, then miraculously went back up to 60 as I pulled into the trailhead parking lot.  I organized my clothing and decided to wear arm warmers with my t-shirt.  They would be easy enough to carry later when I overheated.

The group was about 15 women strong.  I knew 6 of them well and had seen several others at previous runs over the summer, when I was a hit-or-miss member of the weekly group.  After a few minutes of standing around, hugging friends and meeting new people, we hit the dirt.

This run was important to me because it was the first trail run since I injured my leg and foot several weeks ago.  I needed to see how my foot would do on uneven terrain.  The last full week of training was a month ago, and this was my first week back.  During the 3 weeks of injury I ran super-short distances a handful of times, but nothing that I could build on toward the Slickrock 50k that’s coming at me like a train.  October 8 is next Saturday, and my training has been seriously stalled.

The sun was just cresting the horizon when we headed up the hill.  Two of the women that I had seen on previous runs were in front of me; coincidentally, both were named Allison.  Kathy, Jacqueline and I grouped together and started up the incline that serves as a 2k warm-up.  They talked about their race last weekend, the Aspen Goldenleaf Half Marathon.  I was supposed to run it, but bailed because of my foot and a family commitment in Colorado Springs.  This is two years in a row I was supposed to run it; next year I’ll be there for sure.

The trail leveled out for a stretch, then narrowed into single-track with rocks.  Kathy and Jacqueline slowed down and Beth with the Long Legs caught up.  We talked about our life news (kids, work) and somehow caught up to the two Allison’s.  Now we were a four-some, and we stayed together for the remainder of the run.

The low angle of the sunlight caught the red leaves on the sumac bushes at such an angle that they looked like they were backlit.  The reds sparkled against the yellowing grasses and sharp angles of the rocks.  This is my favorite time of year, for so many reasons.

We came to the first fork and turned right, heading toward Eldorado Canyon.  A quick body check told me that everything was working well.  As we made a hairpin turn and traversed our way up the hill I caught sight of two men and a woman not more than a hundred yards behind us; they were a small group that somehow got caught in our larger group.  I couldn’t look at them for more than a second though; my attention was firmly on the ground in front of me.

The two Allison’s led the way and I tuned out all conversation, aware of only my breath and the next footstep.  I don’t recall thinking or noticing anything except the ground in front of me.  This zen running lasted probably only a few minutes, but it slowed down time and brought me firmly back into the moment.  My hamster-mind finally stopped its incessant spinning.  There was finally more room to breathe; my body was lighter.

At the top of the hill we turned south and ran through the Fairy Forest (my unofficial name for it).  The two Allison’s stopped to look at a map which confused them more, then followed me over the slight rise and across the bridge to Goshawk Ridge.  They were relying on me for direction.  Thankfully, I’ve been here dozens of times; this is my favorite route ever.  Every time I run it, it’s different.  I’m always different too, and the mountain and I get to know each other on brand-new terms every time we say Hello.

We meandered through the beauty that is Goshawk Ridge and I got my little adrenalin rush toward the end when I hit the steep decline and got to roll like an avalanche, comin’ down the mountain.

I called out to the girls to take a left at the fork and we ran into the threesome that had originally been behind us on the hairpin turn.  They had taken a different fork and then ended up on the road, lost.  I led them back to the correct turn that would take them into Eldo Canyon.  Allison #1 and I danced our way down the rock steps and dodged scree, and the threesome fell away.

In the canyon we all looked up and laughed.  The rock face shone in the sunlight.  It’s a beautiful thing, and you’re either blind or dead if you don’t appreciate the natural wonder of the place.  I’m neither, and it gives me tingles every time.

As we ran out of the canyon, Allison #2 and I fell into pace and started chatting.  I told her about the Slickrock 50k race next weekend, and how circumstances have changed so that I’m going out alone.  The man that I’ve been seeing was supposed to go with me; our passionately tumultuous relationship split us apart recently.  I don’t know anyone who’s going to be racing in Moab next week, and there’s no one for me to stay with.  I’m 100% on my own.

A few days ago, I thought for about two seconds about not going.  But that idea made me want to cry even more.  I’ve missed out on too many adventures and too many races this summer to let this one go.  I signed up for it because I wanted to push myself farther than I’ve ever gone.  Well, it looks like it will be three days of being completely on my own, with no one to catch me after 30 miles of running.  I don’t want to ask anyone else to go with me; I’m tired of asking for what I need.  Asking makes it feel like it’s someone’s obligation to give me something, which is exactly opposite of receiving the gift of someone’s excitement and enthusiasm of support.

As I explained all this to Allison #2, she listened quietly and nodded.  Then she said the same thing that I’ve heard from several people this week.  “You’re a strong woman, stronger than you think.  You’ll be just fine.”

I wish I saw the same woman she saw.  Until I do, I guess I’ll keep running, keep pushing my own boundaries, and learn to run alone.

moving, rolling turning, feet on the floor.  sitting on the edge  of the bed.  I am upright but not awake.  sky is black, no hint of dawn.  why am I awake?  run.  have to run.  time to run.

shorts tank top socks shoes hair in a ponytail.  hat and sunglasses.  strange to put on  sunscreen when it’s dark but this will be an epic journey.

tab benoit sings about love and dirty dishes.  music is cranked.

eat bite after bite of energy bars from the baggie in the fridge.  must fuel the body this will be an epic journey.  need calories, keep chewing.

can’t find the trailhead it is dark. where is it? there, on the side, passed it, turn around.

dust on the dirt road to teller farm trailhead.  dawn lighting the sky in the distance,  there are colors.

sleepy tired, so sleepy how am I going to run?  one foot in front of another.  that’s all that happens.  one foot in front of another.  running.  have to run.

leo’s ready to ride.  helmet on.  sleepy eyes are open.  bare arms in 60 degree pre-dawn darkness.  we start to bush-whack through the tall grass.  where are we?  why are we here?  hope no goat heads jump onto the path to puncture his tire.  he doesn’t have an extra tube.  careful on the dirt trail, careful.

warm, sweat starting to bead under my hat.  arms are still cool to the touch.  the morning isn’t warming up the way it has lately.  will it be cooler today?  doesn’t matter.  we’re in for 3:30 on the trail today.  sun, heat or cold, put in the hours.  we’re in it for the long haul.  that’s why we started at 6am.  lots of miles to cover in 210 minutes.  bring it on.  training for the 50k in 5 weeks.  have to put in the hours on the feet this week. run.  keep running.

when I close my eyes it’s dark, so dark.  I could still be sleeping.  tired.  running.  trail under my feet.  smell of cows, fresh manure.  leo’s deep bass voice next to me, soothing and steady.  telling stories.  keeping me company.

breath is steady.  2.4 miles to east boulder/whiterock.  familiar territory.  don’t run faster.  keep it steady.  slow is good.  10 minute miles.  slow as a snail.  time on your feet.  gwen says it’s not a race.  not in this to win today.  just running.  keep running.

no cool air coming off the ditch. deer are startled as we cruise by, but they don’t move.  up the hill.  I push leo’s back and tell him to GO up the hill; his arms and hands are icy cold.  he’s not generating any body heat by coasting at my snail’s pace.  he needs to push the hill and get his blood moving to generate heat.  I sweat and am warm even though arms are still ice to the touch.  doesn’t matter.  i’m warm in tank top and shorts.  feet are solid and hat is secure.  keep running.

gas is moving in my gut, I can feel it.  time for a a pit stop.  we discuss the options and decide to detour to the shopping center in Niwot.  it’s 20 minutes out of our way but worth the sidewalk and road pounding.  my legs immediately feel the abuse of concrete and right ankle squeaks in protest.  no fair, I want soft mountain trail.  please, soft mountain trail where I can feel the earth. no more concrete.  no more abuse.  please.

tod’s coffee shop, warm and inviting.  lighted bathroom, plumbing and running water.  just what a runner girl needs when nature calls.  leo orders a dirty chair with almond milk and my mouth waters.  dirty chai is this girl’s go-to drink and only Pablo makes it the way I like it, though tod’s uses a new brand of boulder-brewed chai with cayenne pepper; Serenity Chai.  ohhh… yum.  heaven.  spices and warmth.

i’m afraid of what i will discover inside.  no i’m not.  i’m running and i have hope and trust.  i run and push my body and pound on concrete and i still have trust.  hope is not extinguished in me and i have darkness and seems that all my bridges have been burned but you say that’s exactly how this grace this works.  it’s not the long walk home that changes this heart.  darkness is my friend, i close my eyes and i can see and i am not alone.  stars on fire, these are my desires, i will give them up to you this time. mumford and sons lyrics play in my mind.  the coffee shop is warm and inviting but it’s time to move, can’t let the muscles get cold.

pound, pound on the sidewalk.  so little road training, muscles and tendons rebel.  can’t take the abuse.  ouch.  please no, don’t pound on the concrete.  need soft trails, where are my sweet mountains?

on to the trail again, feet feel the difference through my sneakers and there is slight relief though my ankle hurts.  tight and ouch, too much.  haven’t rolled it, why is it pulling, tight and tweaky?  keep running, keep running, that’s the only answer, keep running.  only when you dig deep will you find the answers.  keep running.

another trailhead, a pause.  we’re behind schedule.  i can’t go any faster, will leo get to work on time?  guilt, guilt plays in my mind, he’s going to be late because of me.  iphone, texting, arranging meetings, it’s all set.  stretch my leg, massage the ankle.  he grabs my ankle and calf in his huge hands and applies pressure to the tendons and muscle; they move unwillingly with his insistence and i gasp.  hurt, but a good hurt.  release.  thank you.  i can run again.  keep running.

back on the trail, no detour this time.  whatever bowel disfunction is happening will keep until teller farm trailhead.  simple math has escaped me for so long, but I plow through it and calculate that this run will last 3:30 and total about 21 miles.  not the longest distance I’ve ever run but the second longest tim, shy by 17 minutes.  feet are tired.

leo asks about my legs.  i point to the spots; tight right glute, left IT bamd, right ankle and left foot feels like a bone is loose.  the pain spots zig-zag across my legs, typical of tight places.  one touches another; nothing is stand-alone in a body, it’s all connected and my heart connects to them all.

i can’t open my hips any more, they are tight.  in yoga,  loose hips mean that your heart is open.  i can’t open my heart on road, the pounding and brutal concrete hurts, it’s mundane and isolating and disconnecting, can’t feel the energy of the earth or my own power.  i’m worn down.

back on whiterock trail and we circle around.  home territory.  i take off in the dirt trail and leo watches me go, wondering about my direction.  i’m doing a loop leo, follow me.  he does.  i’m bonking leo, have to stop.  almond butter pack in my nathan hydration pack, have to eat.  protein for my body, i’m burning so many calories, need to replenish.  i can’t listen to conversation, my body is shutting down.  have to eat.

helicopter flies over us from the north; we watch it grow larger then diminish into the mountains to the west.  patches of sunlight dapple the flatirons and two swallows chase each other on the wind currents, growing smaller as they disappear into the tall grasses that cover the hillside.  quiet, so quiet.  tired.  sleepy tired.  keep running.  have to finish this.  he’s late because of me and i have to keep going.

sun is out and the air is warmer now, finally.  touch his arm and hand; they’re warm.  human warmth, blood is moving.  can’t be cold, don’t be cold.  sunshine is life.  bring on the sunshine, we need you, light the trail and warm the air.  cold, so cold.  my arms are still cold.  i’m sweating and cold.  don’t stop running, keep running, don’t get cold.

two more miles now, so close.  bonking again.  chocolate power gel has a shot of espresso.  i suck out two swallows and my stomach turns.  doesn’t feel good, don’t eat that, yuck, too sweet and sugary, body rebelling.  slow to a walk now, hand to the stomach, pressing holding, pressure.  ouch.  hurts.

keep running.  the faster you go, the sooner you’ll finish.  Gwen’s words from the marathon when she leap-frogged through the streets, calling out and cheering me on.  Screaming at other runners, telling them to move their butts and get it over with.  keep running.  i’m running Gwen.  I’ll always run.  i won’t stop, I promise.

one more mile.  half a mile.  quarter mile left.  I made it.  keep going.  3:30.  3:31.  Are those umbrellas up ahead?  Yes, they are.  3:32.  artists are here, drawing and painting.  3:33.  leo gets a flat tire as we enter the parking lot.  he made it 20.75 miles and got a flat 40 feet from the car.  I’m thrilled with his luck.  happy.  so happy.  we did it.

he puts his bike away and heads to work.  use the facilities and go home. I need fluid, electrolytes, food, shower and rest.

quiet now, pounding is done.  clean, fed, clothed and rested.  hours later and legs are okay.  i kept running.  i ran.

Dave organized a run that took place yesterday morning around the north Boulder back roads.  This was one of his long runs for his training program for the Boston Marathon, and he wanted some company.  He promised that the pace would be an average 8:45/mile, so I signed on.  This would be my longest run since CIM back in December, though I’ve been ramping up since getting the go-ahead from my Physical Therapist.

Those who wanted to run 20-22 miles met Dave at his house and headed north at 7am into the Boulder Reservoir area.  Those of us who wanted to run a much shorter version, only 12 miles, met the group at the Eagle Trailhead on the northwest side of the Rez.  We were ready and waiting at 8am, but realistically should have known that they wouldn’t show up until almost 8:15am.  The extra time of standing around in the parking lot gave us time to introduce ourselves and get chilled by the north wind that was whipping through the area.

Karen and AJ had come up from Castle Rock, so we discussed the differences in terrain between the north and south sections of the Front Range.  After a while the group appeared on the Eagle trail to the west of us; Karen and AJ picked out Jon in his bright green jacket, Rick in his black, Jen in the pigtails and Dave wearing his DailyMile wicking shirt.

They were 8 miles in at this point, and it was a good pausing place to introduce ourselves to the ones we didn’t know yet, get directions for the next loop from Dave, and then resume our run.  Dave is the only one that I had met before, though I knew of most of the other runners virtually.

When I left the house at 7:30 I hadn’t fully decided what I wanted to wear, so I layered up.  Shorts underneath running pants, a t-shirt and arm warmers underneath a longsleeve.  The temp was around 43 degrees, which is right on the cusp of shorts/pants weather.  Depending on the wind and cloud cover, I might or might not opt for shorts.

I kept all the layers on when we started the run.  The wind was up and the clouds blocked out some of the warmth.  I was carrying my Nathan hydration pack and would take off a layer if need be, and toss it in the pack.  Easy.

Jen showed up with the same hydration pack, so we were Twinsies!  Karen had been asking if it was comfortable to run in; maybe seeing two of us use it convinced her to try it.

As we started out around the Rez I had a massive moment of déjà-vu.  I could have sworn that we had already done this loop and were repeating ourselves for the second or third time.  Maybe this is a sign that I’ve been running at the Rez a lot this year; either that or it enters my subconscious a lot and I spend more time running in circles than I thought.

The wind blew us hard.  I tucked in between AJ and Rick and drafted for a few minutes, and our group run in a tight bunch for my first 1.5 miles.

At mile 2 (remember, this is MY mile 2; some of the group were on their 10^th mile at this point) Dave stopped to remove a rock from his shoe and discuss routes again.  I used to pause to remove my running pants and stuff them in my pack.  Some of the group wanted to tack on and make it a solid 22 miles.  We had the option of circling Coot Lake and gaining a mile at this point, which would also push us 12-milers into the 13-mile range.  Everyone was in the agreement, then looked to me for my vote.  “I usually just bow to peer pressure in situations like this,” I told them.  Thus, it was decided.  We headed around Coot Lake.

The wind died down a little here and I got a boost in my energy.  Dave and I did a few pick-ups and ended up ahead of the group where we had a lovely conversation.  As we headed over the dam we both became acutely aware that the wind was gone.  A very mild breeze was blowing.  Dave, being the perfect host, ran backwards for a few paces while he told them how lucky we were to dodge the dam wind-bullet today.  I’ve had my hat blow off more times than I can count on this dam.  Dam wind.

He had his eye on a port-potty near the boat storage, and led us into our next pit-stop.  I took the opportunity to pull out my camera.  Jen noticed a guy working close by and jogged over to ask if he would take a group picture.

Boulderpalooza running gang: Rick, Karen, AJ, Jon, Dave, Jen and Lara (me)

In return, I took Sam’s picture.  Thanks Sam!

Sam the awesome Dam-guy!

We finished our Rez loop and ended up back at the Eagle Trailhead.  I put my pants back on and left them on for the remainder of the run.  It just wasn’t getting any warmer, and the fabric added warmth to my muscles.

On the Eagle Trail we meandered along the single track.  Jon and Dave joked about the “chicking” that Dave received on a recent run, and I knew that the challenge was on.  These guys were going to get chicked by us not once, but many times.

“Come on,” I said as I touched Jen and Karen lightly on the arm, “let’s go.”  They picked up the pace and we blasted past the guys.

“Oh, we just got chicked!” they laughed.

A few minutes later my shoelace came untied.  I pulled over to tie it and Jon said “You just got duded!”  as he and the rest of the group ran by.  Yup.

So naturally I picked up the pace and called “Make a hole!” as I blew by them all to the front of the pack again.

The friendly ribbing was one of the highlights of the run.  Another highlight was the scenery at the top of Eagle Trail.  I pulled over, reached for my camera and snapped a picture.

Rick likes to watch work happen, so here he is watching Karen and AJ work their way up the trail.

Our run-host, Dave. Come on, Dave, you can do it!

A close-up of Serious Dave, modeling his DM shirt.

Dave and I made up the caboose and finished the climb.  At the top we found Jon and Jen doing laps on the dirt trail as part of their add-on.

Things get fuzzy for me at this point.  I was in new territory and simply enjoying the run, so mostly I stopped paying a lot of attention to our location.  At this time of year a lot of North Boulder trails end up looking similar; dry, dead grass, packed, dry dirt… who can really say where one ends and the next picks up?

We crossed over Highway 36 and entered a very colorful, very modern subdivision.  Dave gave us directions to do another small add-on, then quickly broke left and took the shortcut to the park.  He’s been recovering from the stomach flu and then a cold that attacked a few weeks later, and had to dig pretty deep on this run.

At the park I stood with him as we watched the group add on yet again.  We cheered and told them to run faster, especially that slow-poke, Jon.

From here it was an easy 5k back to Dave’s house; one hill and the rest would be downhill, with the last mile being the fastest mile.  Dave and I started out slowly and let the others catch us, then pass.  Jon and Jen picked up the front, AJ and Dave were in the middle, and Rick was in front of Karen and me.

Karen and I chatted easily together, getting to know each other a bit more.  I was telling her about my love-affair with trail running; “I like the uphills just fine, but the downhills are the best.  The more technical they are, the better.  You have to be fully present when you run downhills, but you can’t over-think your footing otherwise you’ll bite it in two seconds.”

At that moment we crested the hill and saw nirvana… a full quarter mile of sweet downhill, hairpinning its way down to Wonderland Lake.  Karen laughed and let me go as I opened up and flew down the hill.  It was wonderful; the only thing that would have made it better would have been if it were pocked with rocks.

At the bottom I reined it in until Karen rejoined me, then we exited the trail system and entered the residential area.  At that moment we both slowed and looked around.  Where had everyone gone?

The road curved sharply to the left and right, and there was a small footpath directly ahead of us that disappeared from view less than 50 yards away.  After a brief discussion we decided to head down the street; Karen thought she had seen a movement out of the corner of her eye as we came off the trail, and this seemed like the most likely direction.

A minute later Dave came huffing around the bend.  He had noticed that we weren’t right behind Rick and came back to sweep the trail for us.

The three of us ran easily down the last street and spotted Jon’s bright green jacket on the left side of the road with a small person.  Dave smiled big; his son was out cheering on the runners, waiting for Dad to come home.

Dave took a final picture of the group; he said we looked like gangsters from a Quentin Tarentino movie with how we were spaced around the yard.  Thus, we became cast members in a movie called “Reservoir Jogs”.

Jen, Jon, AJ, Rick, Karen and Lara (me), straight from the movie "Reservoir Jogs".

Dave drove Karen, AJ and me back to the trailhead to get our cars.  Next time we get together, it’ll be in South Denver at the stomping grounds in Castle Rock.

It was fabulous to get to meet and run with other local runners!  There was a lot of ribbing, a lot of laughter, and it was a great way to tick off the miles as spring training ramps up.  Thanks gang!

I tweaked something in my legs recently, but kept running through it, figuring that the pain was only temporary.  More foam rolling, more stretching, more sleeping… for what?  So that I could post runs on DailyMile and see the numbers get higher?  So that I could assure myself that I’m a REAL runner, not some fly-by-night who just likes the clothes and gadgets but can’t make a real commitment?

I dunno.  The tipping point came when a friend, a husband (mine), a sports PT and a sports massage therapist all told me the same thing; sit down, shut up, and stop running until it stops hurting.

Now, to be fair, no one told me to stop moving altogether.  It’s just the linear running motion they want me to cut back on.  Cross training and easy stretching is fine, just don’t try to beat any records.  Easy is the key word in all of this mess.

When I think back on when the symptoms started, all I can think is “Marathon”.  I haven’t fully healed from the race and I’ve started a new training program.  I have high aspirations for the spring, and none of my goals have anything to do with sitting still.  I want to run a FAST half-marathon at the end of March, and six weeks later I want to do a super-cool 25-mile trail run in Buena Vista, CO.

My friend held the magic mirror up to my face the other day and said, “Do you want to be a February champion or a race champion?”  I didn’t really know what she meant, so she explained.  A “February champion” is someone who doesn’t let the down-time happen, doesn’t take advantage of the off-season, doesn’t let her body rest.  A race champion takes advantage of the off-season, lets her body rest, and rebuilds in time for the race.

The great big elephant in the room is the fact that I’m horrible at resting.  I really like running.  A lot.  I love the different seasons, the way the trail under my feet feels, the way the sun shines down on my sweaty face.  I adore the movement, the motion, the meditation of running.  I don’t get that anywhere else, and I crave it like water.

I’m going to cut back for the next week or so, and see how things feel.  I’m being told to cross-train and keep the mileage really low.  This will all give sore, achy muscles time to relax.  Now, if only I can get my brain to relax at the same time… that’s the tricky part.

Sometimes we think one thing and it takes hearing the same message several times, packaged in different ways, before we pay attention.  I’m no different from the rest of the average population; I need to hear a message many times before I’m willing to listen to it, especially if that message is anything different than what my little heart desires.

My heart and soul desire running.  I am a runner, pure and simple.  I am also human.  I need to rest and I’ll say it here; I don’t want to.  I want to run.

The body was not on board.  Let’s be totally frank about that and say that any thoughts I had of pushing for speed and strength were about to be blown away.  I have some residual soreness in my right leg from the marathon, and try as I might to ignore it, when I push a workout too far, the hamstring, glute, IT band and quad start talking.  The entire leg is cranky if it decides I have not been “nice”.

Saturday’s long run at the Res was 12 miles at an average 8:24 pace.  There were hills, and we took a few miles at a sub-8 pace.  Over the past two days I’ve stretched, foam rolled, stretched, etc., and had Bill dig into the hamstring to work a few knots.  But still… it’s sore.

I laced on the heart-rate monitor this morning and powered up the Garmin after a quick foam rolling session in the living room.  Then I went outside and said a surprised hello to the wind.  Oh wind, you can be the bane of my existence sometimes.  While I waited for the Garmin to finish syncing, I did a rapid mental tour of my planned route; yup, I would be doing hill repeats directly into the wind.  The only way I could do them with the wind at my back would be to drive to another hill, and I didn’t have time for that.  Okay Runner Girl, hills and wind it is.  Go.

After a super-slow mile warm-up from my house to Tyler Street, I was ready.  The hill is about a third of a mile long, approximately half a kilometer.  My goal was simple: run up the hill for a quarter of a mile, then walk back down and do it again.

After clearing the warm-up mile off the Garmin and resetting it to zero (I wanted to be sure to get the splits for the hill), I took off up the hill.  It’s great to have a goal like “hit a 5k-10k pace on the hill”, but honestly, with the wind and a sore hamstring, I was just happy to be running.  The pace would be whatever I could pull out.  Period.

Each repeat was hard.  The first minute of each repeat wasn’t a big deal, but then I started to slow down and had to push, push, push up the rest of the hill.  Between sets I walked down the hill and watched the sun shimmy its way closer to the horizon.  By the time I finished the fifth repeat, the sun was highlighting wispy clouds in the sky, offering texture to a black that had looked wide and impenetrable just minutes before.  My hamstring was not quite screaming at me like an on-coming temper tantrum, but it was definitely screwing up its face and getting into position.  I bagged the last repeat and slowly ran home.

Splits for 5×400 meter hill repeats (into a headwind):

1:57, 1:53, 1:57, 2:01, 2:04

This translates into a pace per mile of 8:14-8:40, approximately 45-60 seconds slower than target pace.

There’s not much to say about that, other than this is training.  This is practice.  It’s good to have a goal, but that goal didn’t say anything about sore hammies and a headwind.  I’m back at home now icing the hammie, foam rolling glutes, quads, IT Bands, calves and back, and doing gentle stretches on the hamstrings.

I’m at another crossroad.  I can either give up the speed training to heal the body, or I can gently work with the body as I train.  I’m learning new ways of cross training (aqua jogging!!) and this seems like an ideal time to get into the pool and do some no-impact workouts.  I CAN run, I WANT to run, I WILL run… but I also insist upon health and sustainability.  I want to be running when I’m 80.  I’m applying the principles of rest and recovery I learned during marathon training, and am incorporating the different stretches and strengthening exercises various people have taught me.

Why am I still running?  Because I love it.  I love the motion, the fluidity, the feeling of oxygen being sucked deep into my body and caressing my lungs before being expelled again.  I love running slow when my body is still warm from the bed, and how awake and alive I am after completing a 7 mile run sixty minutes later (think of that Zest soap commercial, where they guy sleepwalks to the shower, gets in under the warm water, smells the soap and perks right up like he’d just had a shot of adrenalin).

And now, to further my rest and recovery, I’m about to learn how to play Super Mario Brothers with my 8-year-old who’s sick at home with a gooby nose.  I’ll be the one on the floor stretching my legs!

Thus, I woke up at 1:30, 4:00, and finally 5:30 AM.  Connor crawled in with me and cuddled for a few minutes at 5:30, and then he was ready to get back to his audio book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  He climbed out of my warm bed, tucked me in and kissed my cheek.  It was all so sweet that I didn’t get out of bed right away, but lounged, happy and content in the early morning darkness.

Because I was up so early, I had time to eat a leisurely breakfast before meeting Heidi at 7:30 at Coot Lake.  I munched on homemade granola with strawberries and almond milk and contemplated my first long run since CIM.

As I gathered my gear I paused long enough to appreciate the gorgeous sunrise unfolding beyond my back door.

Sunrise from my backdoor; January 15, 2011

On my way to the Res a few minutes later I pulled over to snap another picture of the mountains, tucked beneath a blanket of white snow clouds.

Snow covered mountains just beyond the Foothills of Boulder

It was 43 degrees when I left my house in Louisville and 29 degrees when I pulled into the parking lot at Coot Lake on the north end of Boulder.  I shivered in the cold car as I drove to Coot Lake, and cranked the car heater in an effort to pack every last little bit of warmth into my muscles before we started running.  Even though I was cold in the car, 29 degrees outside was honestly warm enough to ditch the jacket; the long sleeve wicking shirt, running pants and light gloves were sufficient once the blood started moving.

Our plan was to head south around the Reservoir.  After exiting the Res we would go right on 55^th Street, take a left on Niwot Road, right on 49^th, and a left on Oxford, then turn around and backtrack until we hit Monarch Road, run Monarch to 63^rd, where we’d take a right and head back to the parking lot.  Our “out” would be approximately 7.5 miles, and the “back” would cover the rest, approximately 12 miles in all.

We headed out around the reservoir, both of us a little chilly, and caught up on the events of our lives.  The last time we ran together I was a few weeks out from CIM.  Now, about 6 weeks later, she’s a week out from the Carlsbad Half Marathon.  After her race we’ll train together for the Boulder Spring Half Marathon and we’ll actually (finally!!!) get to race together.  We’ve talked about racing together for the past 18 months, and it seems that the stars are moving into alignment… it’s finally going to happen.

Our first four miles were steady negative splits; 8:56, 8:35, 8:24, 8:10. I felt like I was at the high end of my tempo pace, even though I was still very much in the “talking” range and could hold this pace easily.  It just felt HARD.  Maybe it was a cumulative effect of the past few days being at home with virus’ swirling around me, but this was not a walk in the park.

By the time we hit the big hill on 55^th Street I was wondering how I could gracefully bow out of the run.  Four miles in and I was pooped.  We were still talking, I was still running, I wasn’t holding her back, but… whew.  This was hard.  My right glute and IT Band were noticeably present, and I was wondering if 12 miles was really a GOOD idea.

At the top of the hill I said, “That was a hard one.”  Heidi looked at the heart rate readout on her watch and was surprised to see it was just a hair over her target zone for the day.  We didn’t pull back at all, knowing that her heart rate would come down naturally, as we were off the hill now.  I decided that since I was already there, I was going to run.  All in, Lara, you’re all in now.  Keep running.

We picked up the pace again (it had fallen back to 8:43/mile on the hill) and settled back into the mid-8’s.  There were just a few people out on the backroads enjoying the relative warmth of the day, and we waved or said hello to them all.  As we ran along 49^th Street we passed a line of cars that looked like a running group.  It’s a good place for folks to meet to do speed work, and we surmised that that was the reasons for the random parking.

Our final turn took us west on Oxford.  We hit the one-hour mark on my Garmin and decided to go to the end of Oxford before turning around.  As we trucked along though, the first and only patch of ice loomed before us.  I checked my watch; we were at 7.59 miles.  It was time to turn around.  We didn’t need to navigate the ice to get the miles in; we were already there.  I slowed down, told Heidi the mileage, and she laughed.  “Good!  I was thinking that we could turn around anywhere in here and I’d be happy!”

We used our turnaround point as a pause to remove gloves and stretch glutes/calves before taking off again.  Running on ice these past few weeks has tweaked us both; we have to keep muscles tense to avoid falling, which tires out said muscles long before they should be tired.  Thus, they’re prematurely tight and tired when we ask more of them post-ice.

We headed back, glad that we were on the downhill side of the run both literally and figuratively.  Our pace picked up on the downhill and we reined it in on Monarch when we realized we had just logged a 7:51/mile.

The roads were fabulous the entire way; no sloppy mud or loose gravel anywhere.  There was also a remarkable lack of ruts that can make for tricky footing as well.  We congratulated ourselves on running a great course for her final training miles, and talked about our upcoming races and training plans.

The final mile was on 63^rd Street.  We waited for a car to pass before crossing the street to run facing on-coming traffic, and ran the rest of the way to the Tom Watson Park parking lot.  Our watches beeped the last mile simultaneously; we stopped the watches and slowed to a walk.  We were done and rewarded ourselves with a well-deserved cool down.

The parking lot was full, and we laughed at the sheer mass of black-lycra-clad runners warming up in the park.  Just as we reached our cars the first group took off out of the park, and then the second group headed out a minute later.  There must have been close to a hundred runners in all… if anyone was wondering where the runners were this morning, we found the mother lode.

After stretching we headed over to a brand-new coffee shop in Gunbarrel, Tod’s Espresso Café.  I loved the décor, the warmth of the dark-wooden chairs and tables, and the organic, fair-trade coffee was outstanding.  We sat in cushy armchairs in a corner of the shop and enjoyed our piping hot lattes that were topped with pretty leaves as a special touch by the barista.  Another hour of good company and conversation, until finally the rest of the day’s activities forced us to say goodbye and head our separate ways.

My beautiful latte with a leaf design... Yum...

When I pulled into the parking lot this morning I knew I could run 12 miles.  After 4 miles I thought I couldn’t run a step further.  So I dug deep, put away the negative self-talk inside my head, and started talking and connecting with the person by my side.  I got out of my head, stayed firmly in the here and now, and didn’t let any of my doubts re-surface again.  I’m so glad I stuck with it; I spent two and a half hours in the company of a great friend, and the weekend was off to a fabulous start.