Boulder Trail Running Breakfast Club meet-up

Posted on January 21, 2012 by Lara

I went to my first Meet-up group today!

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!

Posted in Seasons, Trails, Training, Winter 2012 | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I’m a milk-logged fruit loop

Posted on January 20, 2012 by Lara

It’s Marathon Training time again.

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.

Posted in Seasons, Training, Winter 2012 | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Loving the Crazy

Posted on January 12, 2012 by Lara

I was transplanted to Colorado when I was three and I can’t imagine a scenario in which I would actually leave this state. There’s something about the mountains and the energy here that holds me tight. Someone recently asked if I ever want to live anywhere else; the answer was a resounding “Nope”. I definitely want to travel and would consider living somewhere else for a year or two, but Colorado is home.

There’s a saying about Colorado that sums up a lot of what I love about this state: “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes, it’ll change.” I love that you have to be prepared for anything, you have to roll with the punches, and after a blizzard there’s always a few hardy souls on my twitter feed that have taken to the trails or roads to see what the world looks like after a white-out. In the heat of the summer or the frozen cold of the winter, you can drive three hours into the mountains and find a place that’s 30 degrees colder than where you just were, and maybe you’ll get caught in a sudden downpour or snowstorm on a mountain pass. You just never know. Colorado weather is a crapshoot; it’s changing, dynamic, exciting, and completely alive. It takes a certain kind of crazy to love Colorado.

My ex-husband is from Ohio, and it took me years to realize that you can take an Ohio boy and put him in Colorado, but you can’t put the Colorado in an Ohio boy. He lived his life in the crazy of Colorado as though he were in Ohio, constantly surprised by the changes and unable to keep up. He spent his life as a hamster in a wheel, running in place and never getting anywhere. He liked his life to be completely status quo, and I was a drain on his energy because I was anything but status quo. He adapted to the changes in the weather by staying indoors, not joining me in my mountain adventures, watching sports from the safety of his TV in the basement and generally burying his head in the sand.

I kept running my Saturday morning trail runs, tried to keep the family together, organized their lives and got the kids to soccer games, school functions and playdates. After years of trying to incorporate an Ohio boy who hates the changing seasons of Colorado into my life, I woke up one day and realized that I had begun to watch the nuanced variations of the place that I love from the safety of my house. I had ceased to be a part of the changes in Colorado.

I was competent at being a mother and wife, and my insecurities about my geekiness took a backseat to the daily machinations of my world. They were still there in the background though, the unlovable pieces of me that had somehow been overlooked in the molding of Lara into adulthood.

I’ve spent a good portion of my life trying to suppress my inner quirky geek. I didn’t want anyone to notice that her eyebrows are three shades darker than her hair, her sense of fashion would make a gay man weep, and her smile is the brightest thing on her face.

I didn’t want people to notice that my moods change frequently, I have no capacity for small talk when I’m in sensory overload, and I may not run fast but I have an enormous capacity for endurance in all aspects of my world.

I’ve been embarrassed about being multi-faceted, multi-talented, and unable to tell anyone that I’m a complete workaholic because I most certainly am not. I’m passionate about the things that I do and apathetic about the things that I don’t do because I simply don’t have time or interest in adding them to my life.

Last summer I dated a guy that gave me one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. He said, “You’re like Colorado. You’re so changeable, there are so many aspects of you. You’re a fast runner that’s a deer on the trails, sure-footed and quiet. You live in your body and experience emotions through a cellular filter, and then when you need to put away your tears you’re a Mama-Bear to your kids, competent and loving and capable. You’re a savvy businesswoman and an intuitive listener, and then you change again to a sexy seductress that made me notice how special a sundress can actually be.”

I was thunder-struck when he told me this, and obviously I’ve been rolling it around in my brain ever since. Something about being compared to the changeability of Colorado, the place that I adore, was different and more intuitive than anything anyone has ever said about me.

He saw the real me, and loved me for it. He loved that I don’t live life on a surface level, but that I dive deep into all areas and weave them together in a way that is purely instinctual, creative and 100% mine. He loved my faded jeans, scuffed Danskos and purple nail polish in the winter, and when the weather turned warm he sucked in his breath when he saw me in a sundress and orange wedge sandals. I appreciated the way he appreciated my quirkiness, and how special I felt BECAUSE of it, not in spite of it.

I had an epiphany moment the other day when I realized the gift I have in that memory. He showed me that my inner geek is actually the one that needs to be loved. Yeah I’m smart, I’m a mom, I’m physically fit. But it’s all the other stuff in the package that makes the boring stuff more interesting. I’m thankful that someone finally loved me for all the aspects of me instead of the fact that I can do the laundry and balance the checkbook while carrying on a conversation with the kids and sending school-related emails while dinner simmers on the stove. I guess it took another person to show me my real worth; I couldn’t see it for myself.

Now, in the cold days of a Colorado January, I realize that I want to be loved and seen for my unique brand of crazy, not the masks that I wear in public. I will always be a competent woman, but I want to be adored for the other stuff, just like Colorado. No one moves to Colorado for the consistent weather patterns or the fact that you can swim in the Reservoir every day of the year. People move here because they love the variety, the seasonality, and how every few months you let go of the old, dust off the next season’s clothes, and get outside to see what the world has to offer.

Colorado is alive, changing and completely fluid. Just like me.

Posted in Seasons, Winter 2012 | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment