I dressed in my running gear and did the kid-shuffle, though we had to run back home again for a forgotten baggie of collector coins that C wanted to share with his 3^rd grade class.  On the drive to school we talked about today being the 70^th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and what the bombing meant to America back in 1941.

After dropping them off at their respective schools I headed to North Boulder where I planned to run around the Boulder Reservoir.  The roads are still pretty icy in my neck of town, but usually the back roads are runnable, even days after a storm because of all the sun they get.

The parking lot in front of the main gates was pretty well packed at 9am.  Several runners were standing around sweating when I got out of my car, and we chatted briefly.  One guy checked out my layers and gave me a thumb’s up; he and his friends all wore three layers and were dying of sweat.  I had two layers and he thought I would be much more comfortable than he and his group had been.  Good to know.

I headed out onto 55^th and went north at a comfortable pace.  I wore my Garmin and iPod, though promptly forgot about the watch and didn’t hear any of the beeps from the splits due to the happy music playing in my ears.  From time to time I stopped to take a picture, mostly because the sky was SO clear, the sun was SO bright, and the world was so WHITE.

I ran out to Niwot road, turned around when I had gone about 3 miles and headed back.  I was making up a running plan as I ran along, and decided at that moment to run back and loop around the Res, figuring that would be somewhere around 8 miles total.  That was good enough for today.

Here are a few pics taken with the iPhone:

Looking south from Niwot Road

Fair warning...

view from the north side of the reservoir

pretty mountains in the distance

straight shot of the road going over the dam. during races this is the time to open up and let it fly.

happy runner girl

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.

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.

Except, I wasn’t looking forward to this run.  The past few days had been a little crazy at the Robinson house, with Sophie getting ready for her first performance in a play.  She’s been super-excited about it, but with the time-management and orchestrating children I’ve been doing, mental prep for an important run fell by the wayside.

We were out late at her performance and didn’t get to bed until 10:30.  I know this sounds moderately reasonable, but I’m in usually in bed and asleep by 8:30 or 9pm.  I had to pry Sophie out of bed, direct her to the shower and get her ready for the before-school choir practice.  She also had a field trip to the Court House for their mock “Congressional Hearings”, the 5^th grades’ end-of-unit speeches on the Constitution, and we had a disagreement about appropriate clothing choices for taking a trip to the Court House.  Bill left to drive the carpool; ten minutes later the other driver showed up at our house.  Apparently he forgot to pick up the other kid, which was fine because it was actually their day to drive.  I couldn’t call him to tell him what was going on because he forgot his cell phone on the kitchen counter.

By 8:00 I still didn’t know where I was going to run.  I dressed in running shorts and a tank top, and layered my black Las Vegas Rock-n-Roll cotton t-shirt on top of the whole ensemble.  Driving into Boulder, Connor and I discussed where I might run.  My sweet little 8-year-old doesn’t have a clue where “Dowdy Draw”, “Whiterock” or “Bobolink” are, but he’s heard the names thrown around enough to participate in a conversation about the nuances of the various trails.  Then he said, “Maybe you should just run at the Boulder Reservoir, since you like doing your long runs over there.”  That was sound advice.

I dropped him off at school and headed north to the Boulder Reservoir, cutting in on 63^rd street.  Instead of parking at Coot Lake, I continued to the parking lot on 55^th, behind the reservoir and slightly south of Monarch Road.  I needed a change of scenery and a new starting point.  This would work fine.

Coach Gwen said to run a one-mile warm-up, then hit the 10k and finish with a little cool-down.  I headed north on 55^th and turned east on Monarch Road, feeling the chill of the morning air on my hands.  The weather forecast called for 64 degrees with the weekend hitting possible record highs of 78 degrees.  Completely unseasonable weather for this time of year, but the warm days mean I’m still running in shorts and a tank top.  I’ll take it.

The warm-up was slow and easy.  The iPod played but I didn’t pay attention to the music.  Sometimes I keep the music on low just to have something to ignore; that way I don’t have to go too far for stimulation.  It’s a whole new branch of reverse psychology, but it totally works for me.

The Garmin beeped at the one-mile mark, but I ran a little further.  Some serious energy was brewing in my body and the Lara-volcano was about to blow.  At 1.15 miles I stopped running and resorted to walking in circles on the deserted dirt road.  There, north of Boulder at 9:15 on a cloudless November morning, energy came pouring out of me.  My arms and fingers tingled and both eyes leaked tears.  Facial muscles screwed up with the force of emotion that emanated from my pores.  The legs kept moving, I shook the arms and fingers, as though my movements could jar the energy from my cells and release it into the air.

After a minute the main tidal wave was over with smaller aftershocks rocking my mellow.  A split decision told me to get ready to run and use the remainder of the energy to start my fastest 10k race to date.

I reset the Garmin and punched Start.  Immediately the display showed a pace in the 7-minute range.  I kept glancing at the watch to see where the pace would settle, as it was imperative that I not go out too fast.  With the amount of energy goosing me along, I could very well run my fastest mile to date and not have anything left for a distance race.

When the Garmin showed that I was pacing at 7:07 I slowed to a more sustainable pace.  I like 7:00 miles, but can’t hold them for more than 10-15 minutes.  The road felt relatively flat and I ran steadily for the first mile and a half until I hit Coot Lake.

At Coot Lake I traded road for dirt trail and took off around the dam of Boulder Reservoir.  I’ve run several races at the Rez over the past few years and knew that there were several inclines, though nothing horrible.

When the Garmin beeped “2 miles” I added a little speed, dropping almost 10 seconds off my pace.  The next three miles were where I wanted to hold pace at the upper threshold of my capacity, to see if I could keep the screw turned and still run steady.  Miles three, four and five eased by, helped along by Tab Benoit, memories of my last horrible run on these trails, thoughts about my next run at the Rez in two days, and Marathon visualization.  I checked in with my legs from time to time and was pleasantly surprised to hear that everything was a “Go”.

The KT Tape wound around my knee provided the additional support that was needed to keep me pain-free, and my feet felt great.  A few times I noticed how high and tight my shoulders felt, and breathed into the release.  They fell away from my ears and the better posture kept me moving.

The Garmin beeped at the end of mile three and I reset it at the end of the first 5k (I wanted to be able to compare splits when I was done).  The time read 23:37 for the first 5k.  Gwen and I were both obsessed with my splits, considering the start-stop training of the past few weeks.  This was a test run that would tell us what the next four weeks would look like.

At the entrance gate I looped around and started back around the Rez to be sure to get the full 10k in with a little bit of extra for the cool-down.  The first mile of the second 5k was a doozy, with 201 feet of ascent and 198 feet of descent.  I was still on dirt trails again, the sun shone on my salty face and the arm warmers were handy with wiping the sweat that beaded on my upper lip.

At the end of mile four I picked up the pace.  Two miles to go.  Did I have it in me to “turn the screw” a little further, to pick up the cadence and give it my all?  Could I PR today, away from the adrenaline of a real race?

Dropping another 10 seconds from my pace, I adjusted my cadence and opened up my hips a little further.  Loosening up the legs allowed for more speed on the hills and a faster recovery on the mixed terrain.  The quads were firing and I felt the ache of sustained speed.  Mile five was a “breather” mile, as there was only 90 feet of ascent and 108 feet of descent through the entire lap.  This was as flat as it would get.  Easy.

The Garmin rolled over to mile six and I held steady.  Give it a little push, I thought, don’t let up.  The terrain rolled again and I pushed through the hills, surprised to see that I was holding a 7:00 pace.

And then the watched beeped the end of mile 6.  I watched the hundreths of the mile tick by, holding steady to the pace until I saw the magic distance number: 3.1 miles.  Punching the stop button, I immediately slowed to a walk.  Done.  I had raced myself, raced the clock, and set a new PR.  My time for the second 5k was 22:51, a full 46 seconds faster than the first half.

“I did it.  I did it.  I did it.”  Saying it out loud was better than keeping it in my head.  No one heard me, no one heard my voice crack with emotion as I repeated those words.

Later that day I analyzed the numbers: 917 feet of elevation gain over the 6.2 mile course, and 897 feet of descent.  The splits were negative, which was exactly what I wanted to do:  7:38, 7:37, 7:29, 7:30, 7:20, 7:19, with a 7:03 kick at the end.  There were no aid stations, I didn’t drink any water during the run, and didn’t consume any fuel.  This was me running.  I gave it my all and can honestly say that it was the best race of my life.  I was focused, stayed on track, held pace when I needed to and cranked it up a notch when the time was right.  I rocked the hills and used the descents to power me through the next one.  I was at the upper level of my lactate threshold, and I held steady.  The start-stop training over the past few weeks hasn’t hurt me.  I’m stronger now than I’ve ever been, and faster.  I can do this.  I’m looking forward to the next 10k tune-up and then, the marathon.

Keep running.

During Sunday’s planned 20 miler, the second 20 miler on my training schedule for CIM, I had to quit running after 13 miles.  My left knee was killing me and my right IT Band wasn’t far behind.   I couldn’t hold pace, bonked every 30-35 minutes and had to refuel with Hammer Gel when low blood sugar gave me a headache and dizziness due to zapped glycogen stores.  If that wasn’t enough, severe GI troubles sent me into the tall weeds twice, even though I had taken care of business before starting the run.  This was the epitome of a crap-tastic run that wasn’t in the cards.

I hit the two-hour mark at mile 13 and finally stopped, something I should have done four miles prior when the pain exploded.  Not knowing if this was a “push through it and finish” or “stop before you tear something” sort of situation, I dug out my cell phone and got advice from an athlete friend who is rehabbing a serious case of patellar tendonitis in her own knee.  I was told in no uncertain terms to stop running before I do any more damage and create more micro-tears in the muscle.

The 1.5 mile walk back to the car was wrought with emotion.  I was an hour away from my planned finish time and a full seven miles shy of the total mileage I was supposed to complete.  Both legs hurt in various places and my tummy was in an uproar.  I felt like the lamest piece of cake to walk around the Boulder Reservoir, especially since there was an adventure race happening that very day; 24 Hours…the Run.  People had been looping around Boulder Rez for 21 hours when I quit my piddly 13-mile run.  Talk about feeling like a lightweight.

All comparisons aside, I could feel that things were spiraling out of control.  Friday’s run of 12 miles was a walk in the park with zero pain, because I had rested for two days prior.  My muscles were fresh and glycogen stores weren’t tapped.  Saturday’s 5-mile recovery run was fine, with just a little patellar achiness that was easy to ignore once my muscles were warm.  But Sunday’s run, taken after the cumulative effects of the previous two days, was a disaster.  My muscles were shot and the low glycogen stores in my body contributed to the winning combination of slamming me against The Wall time and time again.  Eventually, I stopped bouncing.

I woke up this morning with one word in my head; BETRAYED.  I feel totally betrayed by my body.  My will power can’t get me through this one.  I have a goal, desire, support systems, the time and the tenacity to accomplish a training plan and get me to the Finish Line of CIM, but my body is rebelling.  And that, my friends, is a betrayal.  I thought we were in this together.

Coach Gwen wants me to lay off running for a full week at the very minimum, and all exercise for at least four days.  I’m seeing Bob Cranny of Altitude Physical Therapy on Thursday for a full evaluation of my issues, and will have a better idea of my current challenges after that.  Gwen said that after the appointment she’ll rework my training plan to take into consideration whatever program he wants me to implement to get my strength back.

I’m seeing Jennifer of Dragonfly Acupuncture on Tuesday, and we’ll discuss my diet, Leaky Gut issues, and how my low-carb (read: NO CARB) diet is affecting my glycogen stores.  She told me at the beginning of marathon training that because of the intensity of the exercise and how much I would need to refuel on a daily basis, we could really only hope to maintain my current level of digestion.  We could not hope to improve the situation until after the marathon, when my activity level could be curtailed and true healing could begin.

The body is a miraculous machine, but it has its limits.  Athletes regularly push to find those limits, and then work quietly each and every day to expand the limits.  Today, I’m seeing what my physical limits are.  My body has reached its capacity to endure more training and work, and my spirit is being forced to honor the limitations.  I’m not happy about it; truth be told, I’m pretty cranked.  I’m being forced to rest, forced to be quiet, forced into inactivity.   Gwen talked to Bill yesterday when I was in the shower, and apologized to him for forcing me to rest; “It’s going to be like living with a caged animal,” she told him.

The only thing I can hope for is that this period of quiet will lay the groundwork for healing my body.  Maybe the inflammation in my muscles at intestines will diminish.  I might actually gain a pound or two back, which would be a good thing.  The stress on my body will cease and I might actually be able to come back stronger.

I don’t know what Jennifer and Bob will tell me, but by the end of the week I’ll have a plan of action.  That being said, I still feel betrayed.  I’m not a hypochondriac.  I’m not a quitter.  I have goals, dreams and a serious passion for living that doesn’t like being reminded of the limits of the human body, specifically mine.

 The OTHER thing that I love about the day after Christmas is that THIS year, the next day is a SATURDAY!!  That means that we had a run planned and because I’m finally getting over my cold, I got to go run with my friends!  I know I’m old because presents have so little to do with my happiness anymore.  For me, the best part of Christmas is being with people I love, doing something I adore. 

 We met at the trailhead on 63^rd, near the Boulder Reservoir.  Kathy, Marcia and Beth were cozy in Kathy’s heated minivan, waiting for me to arrive.  I joined them while I put on my YakTrax and we waited to see if any more brave souls would show for our 7 AM start time.  By 7:10 we were ready to go, and Sarah had just pulled into the parking lot.  The five of us gathered ourselves and decided to just do the 6 mile loop instead of the longer nine miler.  The trail was snowy with a layer of ice underneath, and we were pretty sure that running 6 miles in the snow with YakTrax would be a darn good workout.

 The wind was pelting snow as we started out, and the right side of my face became numb in a matter of minutes.  My hands were icy in my SmartWool liners and I did a lot of finger-flexing as I tried to get blood into my extremities.  I can tell that I’m getting older, because the fingers and toes are feeling the cold more than they did even a year ago.  I’m buying new gloves this weekend with some of my Christmas money.  Merry Christmas little fingers, I love you!

 Thank God for Kathy; within minutes she steered us onto the fork in the trail.  She was the only one who could see it in the fresh snow!  Beth and I had totally overshot it.  Left to my own devices, it’s a crapshoot where I would have ended up.  Most likely it would have been a 10-miler or a 1-miler, because I either would have gone away from the Rez and done a hellacious loop on the Diagonal Highway, or I would have looped around the parking lot and ended up back at the car in 5 minutes.  God only knows, because I couldn’t see where we were going.

 After about 15 minutes either the wind died down or the temperature rose, because I wasn’t freezing cold anymore.  I could tell that my feet were a little damp in my sneakers, but they weren’t COLD per se, so all was well.  Sarah regaled us with tales of her Christmas cooking exploits of Julia Child’s Boeuf Bourguignon recipe (it went really well!).  I mentioned that Bill and I got brand-new Schwinn bikes for the kids this year, hid them in a neighbor’s garage for four days, and brought them into the house and parked them near the tree in the living room.  The kids came downstairs and saw the bikes.  The response?  “Oh, thanks Mom”, as they headed to the presents to rip off wrapping paper.  Sarah LAUGHED at this, because apparently her 5-year-old twins did the same thing.  Maybe it’s a thing of getting a bike at Christmas when there’s 6 inches of snow on the ground.  Kids can’t imagine riding them right away, so it’s a boring present.  Is that it?  I dunno.  I think if I saw a shiny new bike sitting in the living room waiting for me I’d be jumping up and down, squealing and clapping my hands.  I would LOVE to get a new bike for Christmas.  And that, my friends, is the difference between me and kids.  About 25 years.

 At the entrance to the Reservoir we came across a group of runners, and a cheer went up from both camps.  “Yay, women!”  We kind of wondered where the guys were this morning.  Are they all at home with the kids?  Is it too cold out there for them?  The other women warned us about the ice on the road; apparently one of them wiped out pretty bad.  I noticed that none of them had YakTrax on, and hoped that our party was better prepared.

 It seems that chains on your shoes make all the difference.  We all did great, gripped the road just fine, and made it through without incident.  Yay!

 Heading back around the Rez Kathy steered us onto the correct fork after Sarah and I blithely took the one less traveled.  (oops)  We finished the 5.4 mile run in about an hour, giving us a pace of 11 minutes per mile.  Nothing to write home about in terms of speed, but BOY did we work for it!  I was plenty sweaty and odiferous climbing into my car as we caravanned to the coffee shop.

 Thanks to my 4-wheel drive and YakTrax, I was safe on the snow and ice.  The only excitement came when I was ready to head home from the coffee shop.  The rubber of the windshield wiper on the driver’s side had totally broken off the wiper, rendering the thing completely useless.  It took Kathy and me about 10 minutes of freezing our fingers on the cold metal to switch the wipers (we put the useful right wiper on the driver’s side) because the metal was frozen in place.  Yikes!  I made it home safely, Bill went out later to buy new wipers for the car, the snow stopped falling and the sun even peeked out for a few hours this afternoon.

 I’m SOOOOO glad I got out today!  I’ve been fighting a cold this past week and nursing sick family members as well, so this is the first group run I’ve managed in two weeks.  We’re going to do another group run on New Year’s Eve (in the morning, not after we’ve been celebrating) and I’ll be sure to let you all know how it goes.  What an awesome way to say goodbye to the year, hanging out with a bunch of awesome, strong, fascinating women on a trail somewhere.  I can’t wait!

I was dreading Saturday’s run.  I had agreed to meet a friend for her “long run” of two hours over gently rolling hills instead of the usual trail running I adore.  The problem was that I hadn’t slept well in about two weeks and all my get-up-and-go was vacationing someplace warm, miles away from the mock-Seattle weather we’ve been trying on for size.  I even dreamed about the run and woke up agitated that it wasn’t over yet.

Lo and behold, the run was beautiful.  The weather was cool for June but absolutely perfect for running.  The humidity was down, the sun shone through mist that burned off by mid-morning, and everything was so stunningly green I thought I had jumped out of my drought-filled Colorado into a time of yore.

Heidi and I admired the wildflowers, the uncommonly abundant display of wildflowers.  All I’ve done lately is gape in wonder at the flora.  If I had a nickel for every time I’ve wondered what the name of a species is I’d be well on my way to saving up for that awesome camera I covet.

At one point we came over a rise and faced due east.  A beautiful pastoral scene lay below us.  A farmhouse was nestled under stately oaks (I’m assuming, I’m as bad with trees as I am with flowers), a meandering stream cut through the meadow, and five horses contentedly grazed in the early morning light.  We actually stopped and stared.  I’m a Colorado girl; I’ve lived here since I was three.  This is not something that a person sees every day on the Front Range, especially in spring.  At this point the flowers should be dying and things begin to turn summer-brown.  Mornings are getting hot and there’s no thought of sleeping without a fan.  But this year?  Just to mix it up a bit, we’ve traded our usual spring for a Northwestern mood.

With all this natural beauty I was glad we weren’t pushing pace.  Heidi wore her heart rate monitor and wanted to keep her heart rate below eighty percent of full effort.  This meant that we kept our pace to an 8:30 mile on the flats and even allowed ourselves to walk up hills when they got too steep.  She’s amazing in her dedication to her training; she knows when to slow down and just put in the miles.  Did I mention she’s training for the Hawaiian Ironman in October?  She qualified by being first in her age group at the Oceanside Half-Ironman a few months ago.

We explored the trails west of the Boulder Reservoir and cut through the Rez property on our way back to the cars.  By the time it was said and done we ran 2:04 at a 9:28 pace for 13.11 miles.  I was never out of breath though definitely needed to shower off my stink when I got home.

Later that morning I took my kids to the Lafayette Fun Fest.  I was tired and mellow.  At lunch time I realized that my late breakfast had burned off and I was in desperate need of a big chunk of cow.  My mellow never left, I slept great for the first time in weeks, and I wasn’t sore at all the next day.

I’ve slept great every night since then.  Yesterday (Wednesday) I took myself out for another “long” run, planning on doing a ten miler.  I met a few friends along the way and ended up running with them a bit, which extended the run by a few miles.  My run ended up being 1:45 at an 8:40 pace for 12.25 miles.  Figuring I would be tired, I built some rest time into my day.  Funny thing happened though… I never got tired. 

I had a faster pace (moderately) and did a good 3.5 miles of climbing at the start of the run.  I’m more centered this week, my thoughts are steadier, and my hormones are pretty level, considering where I am in my cycle.  What’s going on?  I’m starting to think that my body has suddenly decided it likes long runs.  This is great and all, but that means that to keep my mellow I’m going to have to figure in a lot more time for running each week.  On the flip side; is this really a trend, or just a bizarre little blip in my life?  Am I over-thinking this whole thing?  The problem is that I really like to sleep soundly, and running hard seems to help.  Oh God, maybe I’m turning into someone who runs FOR THEIR HEALTH!!!