Unfortunately, I forgot to take dry socks, boots, shirt and jacket.  My morning wasn’t going to end at the coffee shop; I was going to be shuttling from one place to another until 1pm. (As I sit here reflecting on the day, warm and dry in my cozy sweater with the Christmas light twinkling from the tree, I can say that hindsight is a beautiful thing.)

Pulling out of my driveway I switched the gear into 4WD and felt traction under my wheels.  The car in front of me at the stoplight was a little front-wheel-drive Mazda that spun its wheels when it tried to get moving after the light turned green.  I got out from behind that car, put the Durango into low gear and took my time ascending the hill.

The 10-minute drive to the trailhead was a winter wonderland.  Snow fell fast and furious, big chunky flakes that stuck to everything and made the world look misty.  Very few cars were on the road, and I eased through the 6 inches of powder that had turned to slush with the infrequent, early-morning traffic.

The parking lot was unpacked snow and most of the girls were there already.  I quickly put on my YakTraks and we started out, staying on the sidewalk where there was about an inch less of snow than on the trail.

After the first few steps I squeaked really loud; every time I took a step the snow pushed into my running pants and created a lovely ice bath around my ankles.  Oh right… I forgot to wear long socks.  It was cold for about a minute, then I stopped noticing it and things got a lot better.

Siga and I ran side by side, though this lasted only a few miles before we pulled into single-file formation.  The other girls were behind us somewhere, and we didn’t slow down to check paces because we were concentrating so hard on lifting each leg and plowing through the fresh snow.

Huge flakes were still smacking us, and every once in a while I got a cold one in the eye.  It felt like a Visine bath after an all-nighter.  At the tunnel that cuts underneath South Boulder Road we slowed to a walk since we were now on concrete and didn’t want to break a spring in the YakTrak.  We each smacked at icicles hanging down and the sound of our laughter at the stalactites echoed in my ears.

Back on the trail again we resumed the work of running.  On this section there was some underlying water and Siga’s foot found a few soft places in the snow where she sank clear through to the bottom layer of trail and mud.  We readjusted our position on the trail to keep the footing more even and continued through the gate into the now-empty cow pasture.

We were surprised to see a man walking toward us with something long and black on his shoulder.  As we got closer I finally identified the object; a full-size tripod.  Photo-man was excited about the snow and looking for some good shots.  Awesome.

By now Siga had dropped behind and was letting me break trail.  I tried to stick to Photo-man’s tracks and create a manageable path for the others.  We plowed up the slight incline to the gate, touched the half-way marker, and paused to wait for a few of the others.

I snapped a few iPhone pics of the girls as they emerged from the white fog of snow.  The pics were blurry due to the falling snow, which seemed completely apropos of the moment.

Bobolink in the snow

We turned around and headed back single file.  Siga made it clear she was following in my footsteps; she was getting tired.  A few times she commented that she didn’t think she would still be running if she weren’t anchored to me.  I laughed really hard at this; anyone who knows Siga knows that she’s a force of nature.  She’s pulled me up hills when I thought I was going to pass out, providing that easy constant motion that you can hook into and just keep truckin’.  After 4.5 miles of plowing through the snow though, she was one tired cookie.

We passed an older gentleman who stopped to look at us in amazement.  “You’re insane!” he proclaimed at the sight of us running.  From right behind me Siga called out, “No, we’re AWESOME!”  I laughed out loud because truly, to be able to run in the snow in Colorado is an awesome thing.  There is nothing saner than wanting to feel the beauty of nature and your body in motion WITH nature.  We had just been talking about the concept of me starting to date again when we passed this guy, and a moment later Siga returned to the conversation and said, “Well, you won’t be dating HIM, that’s for sure.”  Truly.  Anyone I would even consider dating would understand the draw of running in a snowstorm.

We made it back to the trailhead and joined the women that had cut short their run.  I brushed the snow from my pants and laughed after figuring out why my ankles weren’t cold anymore: a layer of ice clung to two inches of my pant legs and formed a solid barrier against any new snow that might fly up when I ran.

A few minutes later the rest of the gang showed up and we headed to Ozo’s for coffee and warmth.  I wrapped my cold hands around that mug of hot coffee with just a touch of cream, and got as intimate with it as is socially acceptable in public.  I was completely sated and happy, sitting with my friends on a cold, snowy morning after playing in Mother Nature’s great outdoors.

Our Saturday Morning Run started two hours later than usual, for two reasons:  1.  To give us time to sleep in on New Year’s Day, and 2.  To let the world warm up to a manageable temp before we tried to run.  Friday evening’s hour-by-hour forecast called for -6 degree temps at 7:00 AM Saturday, with things warming into the mid-teens by late morning.  We were hoping to miss some of the “brutal cold” and run in the “merely cold” temperatures.

Six brave souls gathered at the Bobolink parking lot Saturday morning.  We sat in our cars until the last moment, putting on every piece of cold weather gear we needed in order to be safe in the freezing air.  I wore fleecy running tights underneath sweat pants, Smartwool socks, a wicking t-shirt underneath a long-sleeve wicking shirt that was topped by my running jacket, a face mask, Smartwool hat and thick running gloves.  I was covered head to toe in multiple layers and felt sure that I would be protected from the cold air and wind chill.

The temperature wasn’t nearly as bad as the forecasters had predicted.  It was a balmy 9 degrees at 7:00 AM, and about 12 degrees when we started running at 9:00.  The trees provided a great windbreak at the start of the run and after a few minutes I could feel the sweat start to prickle against my torso.  “Uh-oh”, I thought, “I might be overdressed.”  I decided to suspend my assessment of my clothing choices until we hit the backside of the Bobolink, where the wind might be hiding.

Crossing underneath South Boulder Road to the south side of the trail is always exciting.  You never know what the inside of the tunnel will hold.  As we started through the semi-darkness Marcia saw birds flap out the entrance, and we slowed to let our eyes adjust.  Miraculously, there wasn’t any ice or snow, and we had clear sailing.

I was warm now and pulled the facemask off my nose and mouth and let it rest underneath my chin.  My cheeks weren’t too cold and the intake of air into my nostrils didn’t burn, which told me that I wouldn’t hurt my bronchials by allowing the sub-freezing air to enter the warm crevices of my body.  Sweet!

But the snow… oh, the snow.  It was trampled in places, except not what you could comfortably call “packed”.  Our shoes sank an inch or so into the powder, creating a drag that was startlingly akin to sand.  After a few miles of running I felt a slight stiffening of my right glute and hamstring.  They’ve been the bane of my running since the marathon, and I’m loathe to admit that they still are tweaked.  I haven’t had the “fresh legs” feeling in so many months I’ve actually stopped hoping for it.  I’m running on muscles that are still tight and still have several huge knots that are interrupting steady blood flow.

Adriana and Elizabeth turned around at the two-mile point.  They would meet us at coffee.

Four of us continued to the gate, the magic turn-around place.  We stuck firmly together, as there was no going any faster in the snow that held our feet for a moment too long. I always look forward to winter running but the first real snow of the season is a stark reminder that running in snow is a full-body workout; I don’t get as far as fast, and I work a lot harder every time.  No wonder I’m in great shape in the Spring!

Surprisingly, there were a few other insane runners out on the trail.  Even more surprising, two of them weren’t wearing hats.  Maybe it’s the “Mom” in me, but honestly people, when it’s 10 degrees out, don’t you know that you lose a ton of heat through your head?  Do yourself a favor and WEAR A HAT!!!

This one guy we saw on the backside of the trail was moving along at a really good clip.  I was immediately envious of his gait.  His quick legs and high knees made running look effortless.  Sigh.  My aching glute was keeping my leg lower to the ground, and thus it was harder for me to move my feet quickly out of the fresh pow-pow.  I probably would have done better to cross-country ski this section.

A glance at the Garmin told me what I already suspected; we were moving at a steady 10-minute pace, almost 90 seconds slower than usual.  And there was no way we could go any faster.  I wished I wore my heart-rate monitor to get some readings on winter running in order to track exertion levels during different seasons.

I had originally thought I would extend the 6.6 mile run to at least 8 miles, possibly 10.  After 5 miles I realized that I had had enough of the run; my body was tired.  No need to push any further, especially since I was planning on a long run the next day.

We pulled into the parking lot and Elizabeth hopped out of Adriana’s car; I still had her key in my pocket!  Whoops!  Luckily she wasn’t standing in the cold waiting for me, but was warm in Adriana’s car, chatting.  We paused to take a quick picture with Sarah’s camera, then quickly jumped into our respective cars and started peeling layers.

Off went my Smartwool hat and the face mask.  Both were soaked with sweat.  My gloves were wet and my jacket felt damp too.  My hair was wet against my scalp, but when I pulled it out of the ponytail holder the top layer was still dry.  Amazing!

We all headed to Ozo’s Coffee Shop on 55^th and Baseline for a warm drink.  Adriana was smart and brought a warm, dry jacket to wear after running so that she wouldn’t be cold.  Once inside I shed the wet jacket and enjoyed my mocha for a little while, but started to get uncomfortable when my body temperature dropped and the wet clothes got cold.  By the time I arrived home I was shivering in my two layers of shirts and pants.  It was hard to peel the wet clothes from my clammy body, but I managed it well and rewarded myself with a long, hot, blissful shower.

Happy New Year!

I ran sixty minutes today, the first run in a week due to a nasty flu that blind-sided me right after I got home from a 3-week road trip.  When I got the weekly email on Thursday announcing today’s 10-mile Saturday morning run, I immediately bowed out and congratulated myself on being smart enough to know my limitations.  Instead of running with the ladies, I planned an easy solo run on Bobolink trail with my iPod.  This would be a recovery run and I didn’t want any self-imposed pressure on pace or distance; I wanted to be able to stop when necessary and check in with my body to see how it felt.

I arrived at Bobolink a few minutes before 7 AM.  The parking lot was empty, save for two other early birds already on the trail.  Taking a last swig of water, I powered up the Garmin, pushed play on the iPod, and tucked the car key into the zippered pocket of my shorts.

Mile 1:  A high layer of clouds blocked the early morning light.  I started slowly, a snail’s pace.  I was startled to see the numbers on the Garmin land on 11:30 per mile.  After a minute or two I checked the numbers again; I was down to 11:25 per mile.  The last time I clocked an 11-minute pace, I was dodging rocks while running uphill at altitude.   Crazy how a small bug, invisible to the naked eye, can take four minutes off my usual pace in the span of a week.

South Boulder Creek, running next to Bobolink Trail.

Uneven breath and no rhythm.  The feet on the end of my legs didn’t act like my own.  Trying to settle into something resembling a runner’s posture, I waggled my hands, shrugged my shoulders and tried to notice the beautiful creek next to me.

Mile 2:  My feet felt like they were slogging through quicksand.  “Dear God, if you see my legs, could you send them back?  I miss them.” This was a mental shout-out to God, figuring if He happens to see the runner legs that used to be attached to this body, He’ll knows where to send them.

The trail dipped slightly and gravity pulled me along.  The pace reading on the Garmin fluctuated before settling into a sedate 10-minute mile.  Okay, I guess this is all I have today.  Well, at least I’m out here.  Hope I make it to the gate; this is going to be a long run. Crossing over South Boulder Road to the south end of the trail, I was surprised to see unbroken sections where weeds and prairie grasses grew over six-feet tall.  The cows that usually decorate the fields were noticeably absent.  My hip ached and sudden twinges behind the IT Band on my right leg kept my brain occupied.   I paused to take a few pictures and decided not to look at the display for a while.  I didn’t see the lap pace at the end of mile 2.

Looking west toward the Flatirons next to a newly mowed field.

Mile 3: The music in my ears was a total crutch.  I don’t know if I would have had the fortitude to keep going without it, as my run was so obviously sucking.  Stopping after the long bridge for a minute, I did a few stretches and rubbed my knee, knowing it was the tight right glute that was messing with the other muscles.  I toyed with the idea of turning around at the beginning of Mile 3, then dismissed it.  I would put in the miles.  The Garmin rolled over to a new lap and informed me that my pace for Mile 3 was a whopping 9:50/mile.

Mile 4:  Stopping again to take a picture, I finally made it to the gate, gave it a cursory sweep with my fingertips, and jogged back the way I had just come, glad that I was on the downhill side of the clock.

The sun is starting to emerge and offered nice backlighting for a group of thistles.

I lifted my hand to wave as several groups of runners passed on their way to the gate.  The dirt was dry and dusty, a breeze was blowing, and a trickle of sweat fell into my open mouth before I could wipe it away.  Momentarily distracted by the salty taste of my own sweat, I was completely amused by the sensation of rivulets coursing down cheeks when suddenly it hit me: I don’t hurt anymore!  I glanced at the Garmin and noted the distance– 3.9 miles.  It had taken almost four complete miles for my body to remember how to get into the groove of running.  I almost danced with joy, but let my legs celebrate in their own way.

Mile 5:  The sudden strength in my legs was a salve so complete that a smile split my face wide open.  This is me, I thought.  This is what I was looking for. The twinge in my knee was gone.  My feet remembered how to step and lift, my shoulders were rotating with actual strength now, and my hip didn’t ache at all.  I did a quick mental probe and found that there was indeed still some tightness in the glute, but it felt more like an invisible hand applying pressure on a sore spot than a red-hot burning like before.  I’ll take pressure over burning any day.  Checking the Garmin every few minutes, I noticed the pace numbers decrease into the 8-minute range, and once it even dipped and hit 7:50 per mile.  More and more people were passing me on their way to the gate, and it wasn’t hard to offer a cheery “Hi” or a wave.  I didn’t hurt anymore.  Mile 5- 8:40/mile.

Mile 6:  It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t crossed over South Boulder Road, which meant that there was still almost two miles to go.  A quick mental check assured me the body was still in good shape.  I kept up the pace and even let myself push a little harder when it felt right.  The mile passed more quickly, and I said a mental Ha! when I finally hit the pace that carried me through my first Half-Marathon two years ago.  Mile 6- 8:08/mile.

The last .7 mile to the trailhead was easy, and I cruised back to the car.  My legs still felt good and my mind was clear.  The fog that had trapped me in slow-motion was gone.  I didn’t have to work hard to pull the pace into the 7-minute range, and when I punched the Stop button at the end I laughed.

I had just run for sixty minutes.  Sixty minutes ago I could barely lift my legs.  My knee hurt, my hip ached, and I couldn’t find a rhythm.  I couldn’t find ME in the mess of a body that had just exorcised a viral demon.  I was hesitant, unsure, scared of pain and withdrawn.  Now, sixty minutes later, I was ready to do battle; sure of my strength, purpose, passion, ability to take a hit and get back up again.

I don’t know of any therapist that, in the span of sixty minutes, could have unraveled the drama, anxiety and pain that had taken root in my head and body.  Thankfully, I can run.  I found the space and time to push through the mental and physical pains that were festering, and waited them out.  We did a little dance to see who would be the victor in this contest.  I won.

Bobolink is our “go-to” trail this winter.  It’s a flat out-and-back, totaling 6.6 miles.  There’s nothing exciting about this trail, but it’s perfect for trail-runners who don’t want to risk broken bones on treacherous trails.

Elizabeth took this picture of the sunrise.  Isn’t it beautiful???

Sunrise at the Bobolink Trail 2-13-2010, photo taken by Elizabeth Hagen

Kathy was able to run a little this week after taking several weeks off due to a knee sprain.  I ran with her, Elizabeth and Marcia for about twenty minutes before we all noticed that Sarah had taken off; she was far ahead of us.  I decided to see what she was up to and sprinted ahead, focusing all my energy on trying not to DIE on the vast tracts of ice that covered the passable parts of the wide trail.  Since I was wearing my trusty Nike trail shoes, I didn’t slip too much, but enough to know that I needed to keep my stride short.

Keeping my stride short and fast became the name of my game for the next mile.  I was gaining on Sarah, but finally had to call out to her because I couldn’t navigate another 50 feet of ice quickly.

We ran together to the “end of the line”, touched the gate (I’ve been told that you HAVE to touch the gate for it to count) and headed back.  Somehow, with a friend running beside me, the ice fields didn’t seem as bad.  I checked our pace a few times on the Garmin and noted that we were doing a decent tempo run (8:15/mile), considering the ice mine-fields we had to navigate.

After crossing over South Boulder Road and getting onto the cleared sidewalk, we pushed pace a little more and held steady at 7:45/mile.  This was the edge of Sarah’s “talk-able” pace; any faster and I would be having a conversation with myself, so we held it there.  Granted, I was doing a lot of the talking anyway, but Sarah was an angel and contributed to the discussion so I wouldn’t feel like I was holding her hostage to my verbal diarrhea.  Just kidding, it wasn’t really that bad.

Back at the trailhead we did some serious stretching while we waited for the group to congregate.  Sarah has these amazingly long legs that easily hook over the top rail of the fence.  She worked her hamstrings and calves, while I hooked my feet over the middle rung of the fence and did the best I could with my 5’6” body.  I’ve been really good about stretching every day since I mentioned it in my stretching post a few days ago, and I’ve really felt a difference.

The rest of the group joined us and for some reason we all stood around talking for another five or ten minutes.  It was a good twenty minutes after Sarah and I finished running that we all headed out to the coffee shop, which meant that I was good and cold by that point.

Let me take a minute to mention one of the best coffee shops in Boulder; Ozo Coffee, right near 55^th and Arapaho.  The coffee is amazing, the baristas are talented and friendly, and there are even GLUTEN-FREE baked goods!  This is a very popular gathering place; when we arrived at 8:30 on Saturday morning there was room for our group of nine; by the time we left, each table had hosted two or three different groups of people.  If you’re ever in Boulder, take time to stop for a coffee treat from Ozo Coffee!  (No, I don’t get paid to say this.)

Wolf Moon Rising, Friday night

I drove to the trailhead watching the sky.  The Wolf Moon was setting over the Rocky Mountains, and it was utterly gorgeous.  I was looking for a place to pull over and snap a picture when I saw that someone else had the same idea.  After I turned off the main road I found a perfect place to stop and record this shot:

Wolf Moon setting over the Rocky Mountains

I arrived at the trailhead ready to run, but instead had a dream-moment, the kind where you show up to work without your pants.  I was (luckily) wearing my pants, but was still wearing my fuzzy Merrell clogs, the shoes I put on when I retrieved the newspaper.

After a sixty second debate with myself over what to do, I hopped back in the car and went home for my shoes.  The morning was just too perfect to let a little snafu like forgetting my running shoes ruin what could honestly be a fabulous run.

Twenty minutes later I was back in the parking lot.  This was going to be a tempo run for sure.  I had half a chance of catching the last people in the group if I got moving.  But, I had to stop and take a picture of the sunrise.  You know, priorities.

Dawn from my vantage point on Bobolink Trail

The run is approximately 6.6 miles long.  Divided into two, that’s 3.3 miles each way.  After the first 1.5 mile I still hadn’t seen anyone.  I was running at a good 8:23 pace on a very slight uphill for the first mile, and sped up just a hair for the second mile, clocking an 8:20.  At mile two I saw Amy and Marcia running back towards me; Amy looked like she was having some asthma difficulties; she only nodded to me when Marcia said they turned around early.

About five minutes later I ran into Kathy, her neighbor Wendy, and Kris. They were walking due to a week-old knee injury, and had turned around at 40 minutes.  I was holding steady at my 8:20 as well, and ran into Sarah and the two Beth’s.  We stopped to chat for a minute before going separate ways, but I picked up a few friends; the Beth’s decided to run with me back to the turn-around.

We ran a little further before I had to stop and take another picture.  The sun was up and shining on the frost of the bridge, giving off sparkly, incandescent light that was absolutely radiant in the clear blue of the morning.

Bridge of frost on the Bobolink Trail

We held steady at a 8:20 pace for the fourth mile.  During this mile we reached the turn-around and started back.  Now that we were on the downhill side of the run, we started to pick up the pace a tad.

By mile 5 we were cruising along at 7:45.  My legs and glutes were warm, blood was flowing to all extremities, and I didn’t feel the heaviness of below-freezing air rushing by.

Mile six was a little slower as we came down the north side of Bobolink Trail.  We held steady at 7:58/mile, and then did a big push once we were half a mile out.  Beth C. was a little behind us at this point, but still holding on.  Beth LT and I let our legs run, and we cruised to the parking lot at a 6:52 pace.

All told, I paced at an 8:04 average, which is, coincidentally, the average pace of my first half-marathon! The 53 minute run was an excellent start to my day.  I bade a quick adieu to the Beth’s and hit the road, ready to see what surprises were in store.