Memorial Day weekend is a double header for us; our regular Saturday morning run and then a Monday morning run for anyone not running the Bolder Boulder.

The word for this weekend was “energy”.  My energy was flowing and I ended both runs feeling absolutely high; so filled with endorphins and happiness that I could easily have run twice the distance on both days.

We ran Chautauqua on Saturday; an out-and-back to the old radio tower site.  Massive uphills from the second we picked up our feet until we turned around at the radio tower; then downhill most of the way back.  Have I mentioned that I love running downhill?  If you didn’t know that about me, then it’s high time I let you in on that tiny secret.  I adore downhills and how my hip flexors open and gravity carries me along like a current.  I don’t fight descents; I lean into them and breathe deeply, catching my breath after the exertion of an uphill push, marveling at the rhythmic proprioceptor pounding my body is taking until I’m finally sated.

For Monday’s run we met at Doudy Draw and looped through Eldorado Canyon.  This is my favorite run of all time.  It has everything a girl could want; trails, hills, rocks, canyon walls, forests, meadows, downhills, rushing water, and an almost-flat mile and a quarter road at the end that allows you to let it all out and push tempo pace back to the trailhead.  The only thing that would make this run even better would be if it were a mile or two longer.

When we left Chautauqua on Saturday I started feeling my glutes about two minutes into the run.  I haven’t run hills consistently for a while and lately, every time I do it, I’m starting over from scratch.  My base fitness level hasn’t peaked for the season, so I had to concentrate on breath and movement.  Keep it moving, stay consistent, was my motto.  Don’t go out so fast that you have to stop.  Watch the heart rate.  I kept my talking to a moderate level and when my heart rate felt too high, I slowed to a walk.  Can you believe it?  I’m getting smarter in my old age.

My dear friend Elorie ran with us for the first time on Saturday and pushed my sorry butt up the hill without getting winded in the least.  That girl has the most amazingly beautiful legs I’ve seen in a long, long time.  She rides mountain bikes on these trails and road-bikes all over Boulder; her legs are super strong, curvy, and powerful.  Cross-training has taken the sinew out of her form and given her a look of strength and suppleness that my own runner-body does not possess.  I mentioned earlier that after two minutes I was already felt the burn in my glutes; hers never burned because of the hill-work she’s done on her bike.  Hence, my butt looked like a soccer ball since she was kicking it all the way to the old radio tower site.

The weather this weekend was intermittent, as spring in Colorado can be, but the mornings were absolutely fine.  Saturday morning was warm and luscious and I was glad I remembered to bring my camelbak hydration pack.  The temp was in the low 60’s when we started and there was a magical burst of warm air that parted like a curtain when I started my Garmin.  At 7 AM there weren’t too many people out and about yet, but an hour later when we returned the trail was so packed it looked like a veritable crowd streaming into the gates at the amusement park, sans children.

The splits on this run were typical for Chautauqua:

Mile 1: 12:26

Mile 2: 11:11

Mile 3:12:08

Mile 4: 8:22

Mile 5: 11:05

Mile 6: 7:45

That being said, Elorie and I absolutely flew down the road when we hit the downhill.  We were talking easily, breathing like we were standing still, and striding in unison.  I knew we were haulin’ because of the way folks moved to the side of the service road when they saw us coming but I didn’t know how fast we were going until I pushed the stop button on the Garmin when we hit the bottom; apparently we were cruising at a 5:30 pace down the final stretch of that hill.  Did I mention I love hills?  What a fabulous way to end a run, with an all-out pounding at rejuvenates the body and soul.  Yummy!

Monday morning was our own nod to the Bolder Boulder.  As I drove parallel to Highway 36 along Marshall Road from Louisville I was extremely happy I wasn’t in that 10-mile-an-hour, bumper-to-bumper traffic trying to get into the heart of Boulder.

A friend and I went out for drinks and an amazing evening of conversation on Sunday night.  A couple of tea-infused mojitos and martinis later, coupled with a 4+ mile walk in the silky cover of darkness, I felt fabulous even though it was several hours past my regular bedtime.  That energy was still with me when I got up to run after 6 hours of sleep, and I marveled at how a brisk 4-mile walk with amazing company can boost the energy level of the soul so much that it has lasting effects.

Again, the day was a perfect early-summer morning with temps in the high 50’s.  The meadow flowers were in bloom, the trail was dry and the shadows in the valley of the canyon appeared to hold mystery in the early morning light.  Our little group of six was the only one on the trail at that hour, though later we would step aside to let two mountain bikers have the right-of-way coming down the trail.

Here are a few pictures I snapped of the morning:

Four of the five beauties that ran Eldo Canyon on Memorial Day

Wildflowers in bloom

I had a passing worry that my glutes and quads would give me trouble so soon after that epic Chautauqua run, but even though they were a little sore there was no lasting pain or twinges.  Somehow, my muscles felt even stronger than before… maybe the drinks and walk stretched everything that was being held tight?

Eldorado Creek was high, and the sound of rushing water grew louder and louder as we ran through the rock walls of the canyon, high above.  Snaking our way down the trail forced us to slow down, but once we were back on the open road the same thing happened that happened on Saturday.  My hip flexors opened up and I leaned back just enough to keep the momentum going and not have to work at it.  Jack, Beth and I ran along the Creek, until the angle of the hill forced Beth to drop back and watch her feet (she’s a strong hill runner, but doesn’t like descents).  Jack and I plowed forward until we hit the straightaway, when suddenly Beth appeared from behind and Jack fell back.  The last mile can be the longest, especially when you’ve upped the pace to a full-out tempo run.  I listened to my friend’s conversation, felt her energy propelling her along, and concentrated on my steady breath.  My shoulder felt a little tight and I consciously dropped it away from my ear.  The slight breeze caused my hat to bobble with the slightest movement and it felt divine to have the warm air gently dry the sweat on my forehead.

Energy was flowing through me, above and below, and in my veins.  We arrived at the trailhead and I had an urge to do another loop.  The day was so clear, the sky was so blue, and I was absolutely, pulsingly ALIVE.  I adore the movement my body creates so that my soul can fly, and I am so profoundly grateful that each and every day, I can get up and RUN.

Four out of nine were up for extending after eight miles.  Sarah, Shari and Siga (the three S’s) waited for me in the parking lot.  Siga had my key in her pocket and used it as a “carrot” to entice me to keep going.  I laughed at her silliness; I think the laughter gave me an energy boost because I was able to stick with them for the fifteen minute out-and-back.  The trail was wet from all the rain we’ve had over the last month, and we chatted about the amazing abundance of wildflowers in the foothills.  So many people were out on the trails; it was startling to see all the runners and walkers enjoying Boulder’s open spaces.  Everyone was friendly and we exchanged greetings with every group we passed.

Shari and I kicked in the after-burners for a final bit of speed work and cruised into the parking lot.  Elizabeth and Kathy had arrived back at the cars a few minutes prior and joined Beth in stretching.  Our other Beth, “Beth of the Infinite Legs”, couldn’t stay for coffee and had just left with her neighbor.

As we stood around the parking lot exuding our stink on to each other, Sarah voiced thoughts that have percolated in my brain many times over the seasons.  She summed it up so well.  “It is so amazing to be a part of this group, where there are so many levels of ability and no one gets left behind.  Any one of us could lead the pack.”

Shari finished the sentiment – “It just depends on the day, that’s all.  What’s really amazing is there’s no ego.”

There were murmurs of agreement.  So many different ability levels, people who have raced for years, new runners, post-baby runners, new racers… we have a good mix.

I thought about this little exchange all weekend; in fact, it came to define the run for me.  The women in the group ARE strong.  It’s an absolute privilege to run with them.  Sarah has been with the group a few times, as her weekends are full and she’s not always around.  Shari travels so much that it’s always a treat to run with her when she’s in town.  Siga started running with us a few months ago after a several year hiatus.  Juli has ten years worth of racing under her belt, including Ironman.  Kathy is the glue that binds us together, suggesting runs even when she’s going to be out of town.  Elizabeth is stronger than she knows and has an uncanny knack for bringing humor and a fresh perspective every week.  Jacqueline keeps us on our toes, calling back to her to “watch out for the rock” or “pick up your feet, Jacq!”  She sports more band-aids than any adult I know.  Susan is a veritable workhorse, and can power up a hill like nobody’s business.  Heidi hasn’t been with us for a few weeks because she’s training for her next half-Ironman.  Her husband introduced himself to the group at a coffee shop one morning, and asked if she could come along.  She was new to the area and didn’t know any runners yet.

And yet, with all that strength and absolute stamina, there is no ego.  We don’t race each other on Saturdays and there’s no “pecking order”.  I’ve run and talked with everyone over the months, and run every position in the group.  Sometimes people are intimidated to run with us; I know I was when I first started.  But here’s the thing; no one gets left behind and it’s because no one is here to prove themselves.  We’re all out there running because we want to be together and there’s coffee afterward, which means more time for talking.

I look forward to these runs all week long.  If I don’t run on Saturday my entire weekend feels wonky.  The exercise is great, but there’s more; Saturday mornings are about absolute acceptance and non-judgment.  I can show up to a run and be mostly silent, stewing in my own thoughts.  I can be hyper and strong, or slow and steady.  I could be recovering from an injury or illness (like last week) and hear someone say “Hey, I’m so glad you’re back, are you feeling better?  I really missed you!”  I could have the world’s worst stink to me and still have a running partner.  Each of us carries emotional pieces of the other, snippets that have been shared over the miles and weeks and seasons we’ve been together.  Saturday morning is bonding, perspiration, a total lack of masking.

I love each and every woman that I run with.  I could write an entry about all of them, about the amazing character, strength, and utter beauty each of them carries.  I absolutely draw strength from the group, from the energy that the women weave when they’re together.  I am honored to be a part of this group that meets at 7 AM on a different trail each week, and I am thrilled to know that other women in the group are just as awed by the magic we create when we’re together.  So, to all you amazing women I run with; thank you.

This past Saturday we ran Towhee, a south Boulder trail I’ve never been on before.  Karley told us what the route would be; Mesa Trail to Towhee to Mesa to Big Bluestem, turn left, right, left, take the left fork… I stopped listening because I couldn’t picture it in my head and knew I would be stopping at every fork to ask directions.  Karley is cruise director for a reason; she knows these trails backwards and forwards and provides excellent navigation for those of us who are spatially-challenged.  Thank God for Karley!  I wouldn’t see half the trails I’ve seen if it weren’t for her excellent navigation.

It was a cool morning and I didn’t want to give up my jacket.  Again, Karley saved the day.  She set me straight by reminding me how hot I was going to be in about ten minutes.  I ditched the jacket in the car and shivered under the overcast sky.

We have a new member of our group, a woman by the unique name of Siga.  I ran with her a few weeks back.  She looked so familiar but I couldn’t place her until hours after the run; our daughters (both named Sophie) had a music class together four years ago.

Siga and I have a similar running mantra: Keep your head down, breathe, and get up the hill.  She’s a fascinating person with an incredible up-beat attitude.  Her body is toned within an inch of its life and it’s obvious she’s not one to sit around on her fanny.  We somehow ended up in the lead.  I was grateful for her company because 1) I didn’t know squat about the trail we were running and 2) it’s more fun to run with a friend.

Our talking was interspersed with steady breathing as we heaved ourselves up the incessant climbs.  At some point I became aware of the tightness in my right calf muscle, testament to the fact that we were gaining a lot of altitude.  The clouds were still low and the air was cool, though dry.  We went through pockets that felt at times cool and clammy or warm and dry.  All the time I kept following Siga’s toned legs.  They guided me up the trail, kept me from getting lost, and provided that much-needed motivation to keep going.

At the top of Towhee Karley called out “Hey, stop and look around while you’re up here, we made it to the top!”

We stopped and were soon joined by the rest of the group.  Again, I was disoriented.  Everything looked turned around.  I couldn’t figure out what we were looking at; Karley pointed out the landmarks and helped us all get our bearings.  That girl has so much packed into her head I’m shocked that things don’t randomly leak out when she opens her mouth to laugh.

After a few minutes’ rest we continued down the Mesa Trail and started the return trip to the cars.  Siga knew where we were and I went along for the ride, having a blast jumping over rocks and doing a passable imitation of a mountain goat with two feet instead of four.

Me:  I love trail running.  I love the technicality of running through all the rocks!

Siga:  You are WEIRD, this is hard!

Me:  Yeah, I know.  Maybe that’s why I like it.  You have to stay focused and present.  (Pause)  I just did a half-marathon and that was great, I’d like to do another, but I’d love to find a good trail race to do this summer too.

Siga:  I like trail races too.  I need to pick a race and train for it, to keep me motivated.  Otherwise I’ll end up sitting on my butt.

Me:  Are you kidding?  You’re not the type to sit on your butt.  Look at you, look where you are!  You’re motivated and running on a Saturday morning at 7 AM!

Siga:  I know I look really toned but that’s just body type.  I could sit on my butt with the best of them.  That’s why I like coming out here with you all; it makes me move.  Plus I can keep up with you.

We decided that we would look for a trail race do to together.  We would provide the motivation and companionship to get the training done.  Plus, it’s just plain fun when you’re with a friend.  We would cheer each other on and finish the race together.

As we started the last decent down Big Bluestem to the parking lot she mentioned a story that I’m familiar with.  It goes like this:

        Rick Hoyt was born with cerebral palsy.  When he was 15 he really wanted to compete in a race, but couldn’t.  So his dad, Dick, pushed his wheelchair the entire way.  Dick is now 65 and races Ironmans and marathons with his son.  He pulls Rick in the water in a lifeboat as he swims, then carries him from the water to a custom-built bike cart, where the father pedals and the son rides.  Then, Dick carries his son to another cart where he pushes Rick while he runs the last portion of the race.  They take a long time and often race into the night.  When they get to the finish line there are so many people cheering for them.  Because of Dick’s love for his son, Rick has had a life of inclusion. (check out the video)

I got goose bumps and teary-eyed as we talked about it.  The enormity of that father’s love for his son is profound.  How many people give someone that kind of love in their lifetime?  And on the flip side, how many people experience that kind of unconditional love?

As we ran down the meadow and I almost took a wrong turn (again) I was struck by the metaphor of “running a race”.  We all have our own race to run, but we can’t do it alone.  I’m a living example; I would have run at least an extra six miles on this trail if left to my own devices, since apparently my internal navigation shut down the moment I stepped out of my car.  I haven’t ever been incapacitated to the point that my life has drastically changed enough for someone to have to care for me on an on-going basis, which is vastly different than the life that Rick Hoyt leads..

I know we’ve all been helped emotionally by people throughout our lifetimes (parents, teachers, friends).  Somehow though, the physical act of carrying someone has a different connotation.  What are your thoughts on carrying your child if they couldn’t EVER participate in a race, but really wanted to?  Would you change your life to give them that experience?