Standing outside my house, I looked up the street and saw snow and grey.  The tiny flakes that started falling 30 minutes prior were getting heavier and harder.  Already the black plastic bags filled with leaves decomposing into leaf mulch in the garden were being covered by snow.

Leaf Mulch bags over-wintering in the garden.

It was a little after 8:30 AM when I hit Main Street.  Yes, Louisville, Colorado has a main street that is thusly named.  This little town sprang up in the late 1870’s when coal became a serious commodity in Boulder County.  A man named Louis Nawatny platted his land and named the entire town after himself.  Coal was mined here from the time the first mine opened in Louisville in 1877 until the last mine was shut down in 1952.  Entrances were scattered over the eight square miles of the town, and all of them are gone now, tucked under beautifully landscaped yards and paved roads.

I had the place to myself as I trotted down the sidewalk.  My footprints marred the  new-fallen snow, and I stopped to take a few pics along the way to the trailhead.  It was hard to believe that I had the entire town to myself at 8:30 on a Sunday morning.

Deserted Main Street on a Sunday morning. Too cold to get coffee even?

By the time I got to Community Park I could tell that this was going to be a LONG run.  My legs were dead weights in the snow and cold temps, so I did what any runner trying to put in a good 10 miles does; I threw away all expectations and decided to just enjoy the run.

As luck would have it, I was running into the wind and show.  Already the backs of my SmartWool gloves were caked with ice, and I brushed snow from the front of my jacket.  My face was cold from being pelted with snow that melted and ran trickled into my eyes, and I worked with the palms of my gloves to wipe my eyes and nose from time to time.

The snow was starting to come down harder, and I passed Community Park to the Coal Creek Trail.

Coal Creek Trail sign on Hwy 42 and Bella Vista Drive

Immediately my pace slowed because of the packed snow from the last snowstorm.   The trail meandered under the bridge and cars eased over road above my head.  Little twists and turns in the path kept the icy stream on my right.  All was still in the water.

The trail bisects private property for about 100 yards next to Dillon Road.  Cars headed up the incline of the hill while I descended over a small footbridge and went underneath the road again.  While inside the walkway I was out of the elements and was thankful for the pause in being pummeled by now, if only for a few seconds.

After coming out of the walkway the trail got steep and I plowed my way upwards.  My breathing got heavy, I shortened my stride, put my head down and got to the top, where I slowed down and looked around.  No panoramic views of the Longs Peak, no breath-taking images of the Front Range.  Nope, nothing to see here, everything was encased in grey.

The trail wound down from the plateau and intersected the banks of Coal Creek once again.  I looked ahead to the footbridge that bisects the creek and stopped to take this picture:

Footbridge on the Coal Creek Trail

A moment later I paused again when at flash of movement out of the corner of my eye.  A small family of Mallard ducks rested on the bank of the creek.  There were two males, or drakes, on the shore.  My careful footsteps off the path and into the snow near them startled one of the drakes, and he flapped his wings in a show of color.  I was lucky to have my camera ready, and I snapped this beauty of a photo.  It’s rare when I can really see the blue or purple undersides of the wings, and this fellow was happy to show his stuff!

Mallard duck flapping wings, showing blue iridescent on underside of wings

Earlier in the morning when it was still dark out and I was contemplating running in the sub-freezing temps, I was surfing DailyMile.com.  One of my Colorado friends, Jon, lives in Castle Rock about an hour south of here and was already back from his run.  He said that when the wind and snow really kicked up he ran with his eyes closed for several paces, then opened them to make sure he wasn’t falling off the trail, and repeated the process.  At this point the wind really picked up and I took a page out of Jon’s book and ran with my eyes closed.  It was a relief to have my delicate orbs protected from the snow and cold, and my whole body relaxed.  When I opened my eyes a few seconds later I was gratified to see that I was still running in a straight line; no danger of falling off the trail today!

I ran like this for a minute or so, just long enough to let my eyes relax and notice how much tension my body was carrying because of the cold.  I was suddenly aware of the position of my shoulders around my ears, the over-thrust of my torso, the drag of my feet on the snowy ground.  With eyes shut, I could feel the posture of running so much better than when I was focused on the world around me.

I would have kept playing my game had I not suddenly spotted a coyote coming out of the ravine.  It crossed the trail a full 50 yards ahead of me and paused, then continued on its journey.  I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture, not sure if I got him or if he had already melted away.  Only after I examined the picture on my computer at home could I tell that he was already gone, that the click of the camera came just a moment too late.

I looked around for tracks on the snow and was startled to see how many there were.  There were a ton of rabbit tracks and unmistakable signs of multiple coyotes, raccoon and fox.  Tickled into a giggle, I tried to snap a few pics of the tracks, but realized quickly that the light was too monochromatic to allow any definition on the snow.  So I turned the camera on the nearest target.

Runner girl in the snow with frosty white eyebrows!

The Garmin said I was getting close to the next trailhead on Highway 287.  I decided to make this my turn-around point, even though it hadn’t been a full five miles on the trail.  I was tired, pooped, dead-legged and cold.

At the trailhead I took a picture of the map of the area; this is the length of the Coal Creek Trail.  In 1991 Louisville and Lafayette joined forces to create this trail, and now it connects to the Rock Creek Trail in Superior as well as extending into Erie.  There are still a few sections that aren’t complete but with any luck, when the economy turns around, it will be completed in a few years.

Coal Creek Trail map

The snow was still falling hard on the return trip, but now the wind was at my back.  It was a relief to be out of the brunt of it and I kept my eyes open the entire way home.  I stopped to take a few more pictures of Mallard families playing in the frigid water, and of a particularly photogenic branch laying in the water being slowly buried by snow.

Mallard duck family in the cold waters of Coal Creek

Still life of branch in the water, getting covered by snow.

A few miles later I stopped at the top of the plateau to see if the clouds had moved yet.  The mountains were still obscured from sight, so I took a picture of one snowy braid sticking out from under my hat.

Snow and ice clinging to hat and hair.

The snow was still falling; about an inch of pure powder had accumulated in the past hour.  The tread of my shoe disappeared into the powder with each step and always came up again with a spattering of snow on the toe of the shoe.

By the time I arrived at Community Park again it was close to 10 AM.  Folks must have decided to get the day moving in spite of the weather and had arrived at the dog park with said dogs.  Apparently the people weren’t too excited to run around motivating their canine friends because the dogs were lying on the ground next to the huddle of humans.

The wind was singing its own snow song now, and I heard it when I ran past this maple tree.  Leaves clung to the branched with false hope that this was just a cold snap, and the rustling of leaves coupled with snow was like a symphony of winter.  If ever I want to remember what WINTER sounds like, I’ll think of the rustle of leaves, heavy with snow, on a frigid morning in January.

Maple leaves covered in snow.

At home, I didn’t stop to chat with the family, or stretch my aching muscles.  I peeled off layer after layer and headed straight for the warm shower.  My socks were soaked, though my feet had stayed warm.  How does SmartWool DO that?

This outing changed my perspective on the Coal Creek Trail; I was amazed by awesome stuff I saw!  The Coal Creek Trail system is truly a riparian habitat that has been preserved.  Even with the recreational users on the trail, there is still enough space for ducks, rabbits, snakes, fox, raccoon, coyotes, birds of all different sizes and shapes, and even the occasional mountain lion or deer.  So, I didn’t get to run on the mountain today… I still had a fabulous time AND I didn’t kill myself on the ice and rocks of the Foothills!

I have one word that brilliantly sums up today’s run on the Coal Creek Trail: COLD.  It was Cold.  Bun-numbing, finger-numbing, bone-chilling cold.  I was severely under-dressed for the 10 degree run (running tights, wicking shirt with fleece lining and an outer jacket that doesn’t have any warmth to it, as well as my new gloves with a wind guard mitten-thingie and SmartWool hat) and never broke a sweat.  My fingers stayed cold the entire time, as did my butt and legs.  For some reason my feet didn’t freeze even though we were running on snow.

We all had YakTrax on our feet, except for Marcia who has these nifty screw-shoes.  The YakTrax were great on the packed snow and gave us some added security, especially through the underpasses that have a nice layer of thick ice.

There wasn’t much talking on the run because of frozen face muscles.  The first two people to the turn-around kept moving, so our group was split a little more than normal.  I snapped a photo of Sarah at this point; she was standing directly in front of me, blocking the sun.  Note the glow around her head and the ice frosting!

I didn’t finish the run with the ladies because I took a short-cut that lead me directly home.  I didn’t want to finish with the group and then have another mile to go.  After five miles I had had it, and wished desperately for my cell phone.  If it was with me, I would have called Bill and had him come pick me up, just to get out of the cold. 

About 30 minutes after getting into the warmth of the house my legs were alternating between hot and cold pricks of fire.  I finallycouldn’t stand it anymore and  jumped into a hot bath to warm up my legs.  About an hour later I got super tired, so took a nap.  I know all this is a direct reaction to being so super-cold; my body was expending a ton of energy trying to keep warm, which is why once I was finally at a “normal” temperature, I had to shut down and recouperate the energy loss. 

Now, it’s 12:30 pm and I feel like I’ve wasted a full half-day.  I’m planning on taking the kids bowling this afternoon, then it’s home for a family dinner and probably some board games (Blokus anyone?) to celebrate the last day of the year.

Happy New Year, everyone, and I’ll see you all tomorrow!!

Had Saturday fallen on a day other than November 21, I would have run at 7 AM with the ladies.  However, November 21 happens to be my daughter’s birthday, and this year it was her 10^th.  No way, no how, could I miss seeing her jump out of bed and attack her presents while Bill, Connor and I watched, bleary-eyed.  (She is currently obsessed with American Girl dolls, and her birthday list consisted entirely of items from the catalogue.  Bill and I bought her the main item, a Just Like Me doll, and parsed out the rest to relatives.  Thus, she received almost everything on the list and we didn’t go broke.)

The alarm was set for 5:30 so I could sneak in a short, 30 minute run before the birthday festivities.  As it happened though, Sophie couldn’t sleep; she snuck into the closet as I was pulling on my running tights and almost scared the pee out of me when I turned around.  I whispered that I was going out for a QUICK run, it was still too early to wake everyone else up, and to hang out in her room until I got back.  Being newly 10 years old, her shoulders drooped but she nodded anyway.

 It was just after 6:00 when I headed out.  I headed up the little hill of Lincoln to Hutchinson where I went left, circled Community Park twice, then returned home via Main Street, Lafayette Avenue and Griffith.  The Garmin had weak signal for a good ten minutes (that I was aware of), though the timer kept going.  Luckily I knew the mileage of the route and after plugging in the distance (3.6 miles) and the time (25 minutes), DailyMile.com (find me @smzrunner) figured out the pace (6:56/mile).  I was surprised by the pace, as I felt sluggish the entire run, but pleased just the same.

Sunday was my last long run before the Las Vegas Half on December 6.  I was concerned about the route because the recent snow hadn’t melted fully from the trails and I wanted to run the Coal Creek Trail for the last 3.5-4 miles of the run.  After unsuccessfully mapping my route on RunningMap.com, I decided to wing it, figuring that after 10 miles I would see where I was and decide on the fly how to finish the last 3-4 miles.

With that much of a plan, I headed out Sunday morning at 7:20 AM, already feeling rushed.  I was meeting a friend at 10 AM in Boulder for brunch and knew that I was pushing the clock if I wanted to get 13-15 miles in AND enjoy a shower, too.

I started from the house and headed up to Davidson Mesa, totaling 3 miles in the first leg.  According to the Garmin, the splits for the first three miles were 8:30, 8:01 and 8:19. 

Davidson Mesa is a flat loop on open space.  Unfortunately the ground was frozen in ridges from the recent snow and melt, so some sections were a little dicey.  Since it was flatter than the route UP to the Mesa, miles 4-6 were a little faster:  8:08, 7:48, 7:30.

From here I headed down the hill into Louisville.  I cut across the greenbelts to Cherry Street, jumped onto the Coal Creek Trail and hoped that the trail across Highway 42 would be manageable.  For these 4 miles the splits were relatively even: 7:34, 7:41, 7:23, 7:25.

At this point it was apparent that I couldn’t run on the Coal Creek Trail after it crossed over Hwy 42.  There was still ice on the frozen ridges of the trail, and I wasn’t interested in turning an ankle or slowing pace to finish the run with a loop.  I decided to turn back, retrace my steps around the large greenbelt, and return home via Lincoln Avenue near the Louisville Elementary School.  The last three miles looked like this:  7:47, 7:34, 7:41.

The Garmin says the average pace was 7:41/mile.

Here’s a map of the route.  You’ll notice some retracing of steps (off the Davidson Mesa on the left of the map, and at the bottom, where I had to come back from the Coal Creek Trail. 

 I really tried to maintain a fast pace, though I was confused when I looked at my Garmin because on Saturday I accidentally hit a button so that instead of showing minute-per-mile pace, I saw a mile-per-hour pace.  Not being able to quickly translate the new numbers in my head or fix the read-out, I instead tried to keep the miles-per-hour pace between 7.5 and 8.0, always trying for the upper number but acknowledging that on the hills, I might creep down to the 7.5 mark.  After I got home and Bill fixed my read-out I was totally surprised to see that I did this training run a full 5 minutes faster than my race pace for the Colorado Half Marathon in May (where I finished in 1:45:47, a pace of 8:04/mile).

I didn’t take water on this run because a) I hate carrying a bottle in my hand and b) I was worried water would freeze in the line of my camelbak, rendering it useless.  I completely forgot that I own a water bottle holder that clips around my waist.  Duh.  I was a little thirsty on the run, but the lower temps kept me from falling apart.  I drank two large glasses of water when I got home, and then drank tons for the rest of the day.  My face was pretty red for about an hour afterwards, though my muscles felt alright and I never sank into utter exhaustion.

When I was gearing up for the Colorado Half Marathon I kept track of my average paces and figured that I could probably hold an 8:00 pace for the duration.  I was so excited that I had read my fitness level correctly.  For this race, my second Half-Marathon, I originally wanted to finish in a sub- 1:40.  Given that I just did 1:40 on a training run in Louisville (at altitude and on hills), it’s probably feasible that on a flat course at a lower altitude I can shave another 0:15 seconds from my per-mile pace.

Church is in the eyes of the beholder.  Or ears, for that matter.

 While listening to my iPod and running on this beautiful August Sunday morning, Michael Jackson’s “Will You Be There” single lifted me up and hit that sweet spot where you know you’ve been witness to the divine.  Let me explain.

For the first time in weeks, I woke with energy and an eagerness for a run around the town.

My iPod was clipped to my shorts and set on random.  There’s a new set of music loaded on the device and I’m still getting used to some of the songs.  It’s been a nice change from the favorites that have become over-played the past several months.

There’s always a sense of anticipation before a run because my eternal hope is that between the beginning and end of the run, something will assail my senses, permeate my brain and convince me there’s more to being human than the mundane repetition of my life.  Sometimes that “something” is emotional; I’ll run with someone and find that perfect connection where we’re exactly in tune with each other.  Sometimes that “something” is physical; the repetitive movements of running will have allowed me to release some stress and I’ll find solace in the strength of my body.  Sometimes it’s visual; I’ll look up and find that I’m bearing witness to a tiny miracle of this earth, and I’ll feel blessed that I was there at the right place and time to see it.  And sometimes, that “something” is auditory. 

I had been running for forty five minutes already.  There were so many people out on the trails enjoying the beautiful morning; solo runners, pairs of walkers, people with their dogs.  A little boy on the Coal Creek Trail was followed by his mother and dog as they casually rode along the gravel. 

Pounding over the shady Coal Creek Trail, I was surprised when the strains of this particular song began.  Quiet, melodic piano chords wisped through my ear-buds for a few measures, then the orchestra joined in and Michael Jackson’s high tenor touched my soul.

“Hold me
Like the river Jordan
And I will then say to Thee
You are my friend

Carry me
Like you are my brother
Love me like a mother
Would you be there…”

The first two verses were quiet and meditative as I crossed over Bella Vista Avenue and made my way around Community Park.  Suddenly, the next stanza started and I got chills.

“Weary
Tell me will you hold me
When wrong, will you scold me
When lost will you find me?

But they told me
A man should be faithful
And walk when not able
And fight till the end
But I’m only human…”

My legs picked up speed and my cadence matched the rhythm of the music.  Yes, he’s only human.  I’m only human too.  What does being human mean? 

“Everyone’s taking control of me
Seems that the world’s
Got a role for me
I’m so confused
Will you show to me
You’ll be there for me
And care enough to bear me…”

The music began to crescendo and Michael’s voice became increasingly passionate.  I shivered again and felt the power of his longing, his never-ending quest to find the higher power that would elevate him, allowing him to revel in his mortality instead of humbly accepting that he can’t be better because “I’m only human”.

There’s a strong parallel between Michael Jackson’s search for a higher power in his tabloid life, and publicly singing about wanting to connect with a being that will help lift him up and be a better person. I was transported into a spiritual place where I made that intimate connection to the highest power, that innate wisdom that allows the pulsing energy of earth, our humanness, and whatever greater consciousness there is, into my own life.

I hit “repeat” on my iPod each time the song ended and listened to it three times through.  Each time, the swell of the music and the passion in Michael’s voice gave me chills.  I waited with excited anticipation for the gospel choir and joined in to the chorus, adding my voice and singing for all I was worth to God.

Sometimes “church” is a place to go.  Sometimes it’s a message that is delivered, or received.  Today, for me, “church” was being outside in nature, moving my body, and listening to the gospel choir in Michael Jackson’s song about finding God, or a friend, to be there with him on his journey through life.  It’s a universal message and one worthy of church on a Sunday morning.

The meeting place is the old Louisville Post Office on Front Street and Pine. It’s almost a mile from my house; I leave ten minutes early and keep my pace at a super-easy 9:26 pace. This is pure warm-up to the P.O. and I don’t want to get too warm.

Susan is running down from her house too, and the rest of the group is gathering on the side street. Cherry is back after being at the Arizona Ironman two weeks ago and her subsequent recovery from a head cold. Zina is bouncing around in the cold and Bernadette looks cold in her Capri’s and sneakers with the no-show socks.

Over half the women in the group have never been on this trail, so they’re pleased about the prospect of a new run. I’ve run this trail so many times in the past two years that all novelty is lost to me. Not sure how many more times I’ll tolerate it either; today’s run is only due to the group and I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Caryn, Rita, Savannah, Mary and A.J. are looking forward to this run. I mention to Mary that I’ve run this trail so many times I’ve lost count, and can point out every single turn-around point I’ve ever done. “This one is where I turn around for a five-miler, this is the five and a half point, this is the six mile point…” and so on. She astutely sums it up to perspective; this trail is not exciting to me because I’ve run it ad nauseum; yet to many others it’s a nice change from the severe trail runs we usually do.

We jump onto the trail across from the Community Park. The snow is about an inch deep and packed in most places. There’s a little ice here and there, but no mud and nothing deep that prevents a good long run. In previous winters I’ve had to turn around at certain sections because of the ice or deep snow that becomes treacherous for a slight person and unadorned feet (read: no Yaktrax).

Cherry and I settle into a pace. I tell her about my new part-time job with 5430 Sports. She’s familiar with the organization and in fact encouraged me to contact them. She listens to me describe the two distinct aspects of the job (expo sales, sustainability development and consulting) and agrees that the latter will be my passion. She knows me and the owners of 5430 Sports; from her perspective, this will be a good working partnership.

Cherry detours to the trees for a pee-break and Mary joins me as a running partner. I’ve never talked with her during a run before; she’s usually in the middle section of the group while I’m out in the lead. Today I’m more interested in holding pace for a long run instead of using this as a tempo training run, which is what the trail runs usually morph into for this amateur athlete. I see the run and the group members in a different light when I’m not trying to squeeze in a tempo run or concentrate on how far and fast I can physically push my body while still having energy to get through the rest of the day.

Bernadette, Susan and A.J. are waiting at the turn-around. Bernadette is messing with her socks which have inched their way down her foot and are now solidly stuck under the heel of her foot. I can’t imagine not wearing the right socks for the right activity and look at her in disbelief as she flatly refuses our attempts to talk her into wearing ankle socks. She likes what she likes and won’t be talked into doing things differently, even though she sees that those of us wearing socks that cover the entire foot aren’t stopping after three miles to unroll the material and put it back in place.

The group has mostly assembled at the turn-around, so we head back. Cherry has caught up with the group after her impromptu trip into the trees, and is smiling as she ducks to the side again. “I’m just glad to be out running again,” she says to me as we start down the trail.

The conversation turns to the Arizona Ironman. She was there with her husband, Mark, who works for Ironman. Clare was there cheering on a friend, and Barry, my new boss, was there participating while his wife, Jodee, cheered him on. Clare is pumped to do another Ironman after being a spectator this year. Apparently she’s trying to talk Cherry into doing it with her. “Nope, don’t have any interest in doing another Ironman,” Cherry declares. “I like how my body feels when I’m exercising a certain amount and I don’t need to push it farther than that.”

She has the benefit of being able to look at a race like the Ironman from multiple angles. She’s been a competitive racer in her “younger days”, she’s helped set up many races, and she’s been there to cheer on friends and help them train. Her perspective is based on a lot of information and is firmly based in doing what is right for her body.

I’m thinking about doing a half-marathon in March. Susan mentioned it to me a few months ago and I’ve had the idea tucked away ever since. I’d like to do a half, as the farthest I’ve raced is a 10K. I’m sure I could do it; thirteen miles doesn’t seem insurmountable. Cherry does a “runner’s blow” to the side of the trail and gives me another dose of reality. “You talk about doing a half marathon like it’s feasible, and I’m sitting here thinking that it sounds about as far away as the moon. I’ve been sick and haven’t done anything in two weeks. What you can accomplish has everything to do with attitude and perspective.”

Ain’t that the God’s honest truth. There have been points in my life when I didn’t think I could get out of bed; to do that was the high point in my day. On the flip side, there have been times in my life when I ran up mountains and lived to tell the story. Everything I do is couched with perspective on where I’ve been and where I’m at right now, this very minute. And attitude? A good attitude is that little thing that makes it all worth doing, over and over again.