I knew it was cold, and was almost prepared. Just not quite. I wore a fleece-lined wicking shirt, another wind layer, and my lined running jacket. Smartwool liner gloves (no top layer gloves). Orange hat with the fleece lining around the ears. Unlined running pants. Smartwool ankle socks and trail shoes.

Can you picture it? Warm head, warm torso, freezing cold legs and hands. Yup. That was me.

I wasn’t too worried about the hands because my jacket sleeves are long enough to pull over the backs of my hands, and then when I curl my fingers in the hands are mostly protected. What I noticed was that my butt, thighs and quads were just exposed and cold. Numb, actually. The cold was hard but once my legs got numb things felt a lot better.

We ran at a good, easy 8:30 pace along the roads, never trying to get onto the snow-pack around the Res. None of us wore YakTrax or screw shoes, so the roads were our best bet. Dave and Jo’s Garmins synced right away; mine was having a hard time finding the satellites so I said “screw it” and just went.

The sky was just beginning to brighten when we started off, giving us just a taste of the clear sky that would be the focal point when the sun came up. I had sunglasses in my pocket for when the sun crested the horizon and gave me snow-blindness; Dave and Jo were just barely concerned, as we would finish the run just minutes after the sun showed its beautiful face. They would be okay.

We chatted about our upcoming Colorado Marathon in May. Dave asked me where I planned on staying that night, and I had to honestly say that lodging hadn’t even crossed my mind. That gave us another good laugh, as a few of our Type A friends had taken care of that detail the moment after they registered for the race and we were still discussing possibilities and roommate situations. (We can safely say that I’m not Type A.)

At mile 3 we turned around and headed back. It wasn’t any warmer, but the blood had warmed and my hands were toasty. Jo unzipped the pit zippers of her jacket, and they commented on the frost coating my braids. Dave and Jo both said their toes were a little cold; I didn’t seem to have that problem.

Back at the car Dave snapped a picture of my frosty braids, and another one of me and Jo.

Frosty braids

We had bonded over our mutual love of Mumford and Sons when she told me about creating a Christmas card using the cover art of their album, Sigh No More. I invited her to join the Saturday Morning Run group some time, and the coffee social hour afterwards! She was totally game and we coordinated the time/place via email later that afternoon.

This morning I woke up to a purring cat snuggled against my back as I lay warm and toasty in my bed. I lingered there for a few minutes, knowing that this warmth would be the last heat I would enjoy for the next 4 hours. Giving a little c’est la vie sigh and steeling myself for the hardest part of the morning, I made myself sit up and put feet on the floor.

Once in motion the rest came easier. Since I didn’t get laundry done from yesterday I pulled yesterday’s running tights from the hamper and found a longsleeve fleece-lined wicking shirt in the shirt pile. I layered my red Las Vegas Rock N’ Roll Half Marathon t-shirt over the black shirt so I didn’t look like Ninja Runner Girl. Smartwool ankle socks. Smartwool hat and the liner gloves again. Trail shoes.

The thermometer outside my window read 20 degrees and I was banking on this to be true. Did I wear a jacket? Nope. A second layer on my legs, as I had learned my lesson from yesterday? Nope. Another pair of gloves? Of course not.

Foolish me. It was warmer than yesterday, a whopping 6 degrees at the Boulder Res.

I did another c’est la vie sigh when I realized the error of my ways and decided to deal with my problem by running and raising my heart rate. The only other option was missing the run, and that wasn’t going to happen in this lifetime.

We had a smaller group this week, probably due to the cold and the fact that it’s Christmas Eve. Jo made it and was welcomed to the group by the uber-friendly ladies that I hang with. After a few minutes we hit the trail and checked out the powder around the Res. The going was moderate, as we ran in parallel tire tracks which saved our legs from breaking trail. My face was so much colder today than yesterday, and I realized just how much protection my orange hunter’s hat had provided. After 2 miles my fingers were warm but my wrists were frozen. My jacket yesterday had shielded so much, and today I was exposed. Oops.

After the freezing cold run we headed over to Tod’s Coffee shop, where I marched into the warmth of the building, ordered myself a 20-ounce dirty chai and wrapped my frozen hands around the cup.  The heavenly beverage warmed me, and I luxuriated in the yummy hitting my belly and the fabulous conversation and company of my friends.

It’s Christmas Eve.  Happy holidays all!

moving, rolling turning, feet on the floor.  sitting on the edge  of the bed.  I am upright but not awake.  sky is black, no hint of dawn.  why am I awake?  run.  have to run.  time to run.

shorts tank top socks shoes hair in a ponytail.  hat and sunglasses.  strange to put on  sunscreen when it’s dark but this will be an epic journey.

tab benoit sings about love and dirty dishes.  music is cranked.

eat bite after bite of energy bars from the baggie in the fridge.  must fuel the body this will be an epic journey.  need calories, keep chewing.

can’t find the trailhead it is dark. where is it? there, on the side, passed it, turn around.

dust on the dirt road to teller farm trailhead.  dawn lighting the sky in the distance,  there are colors.

sleepy tired, so sleepy how am I going to run?  one foot in front of another.  that’s all that happens.  one foot in front of another.  running.  have to run.

leo’s ready to ride.  helmet on.  sleepy eyes are open.  bare arms in 60 degree pre-dawn darkness.  we start to bush-whack through the tall grass.  where are we?  why are we here?  hope no goat heads jump onto the path to puncture his tire.  he doesn’t have an extra tube.  careful on the dirt trail, careful.

warm, sweat starting to bead under my hat.  arms are still cool to the touch.  the morning isn’t warming up the way it has lately.  will it be cooler today?  doesn’t matter.  we’re in for 3:30 on the trail today.  sun, heat or cold, put in the hours.  we’re in it for the long haul.  that’s why we started at 6am.  lots of miles to cover in 210 minutes.  bring it on.  training for the 50k in 5 weeks.  have to put in the hours on the feet this week. run.  keep running.

when I close my eyes it’s dark, so dark.  I could still be sleeping.  tired.  running.  trail under my feet.  smell of cows, fresh manure.  leo’s deep bass voice next to me, soothing and steady.  telling stories.  keeping me company.

breath is steady.  2.4 miles to east boulder/whiterock.  familiar territory.  don’t run faster.  keep it steady.  slow is good.  10 minute miles.  slow as a snail.  time on your feet.  gwen says it’s not a race.  not in this to win today.  just running.  keep running.

no cool air coming off the ditch. deer are startled as we cruise by, but they don’t move.  up the hill.  I push leo’s back and tell him to GO up the hill; his arms and hands are icy cold.  he’s not generating any body heat by coasting at my snail’s pace.  he needs to push the hill and get his blood moving to generate heat.  I sweat and am warm even though arms are still ice to the touch.  doesn’t matter.  i’m warm in tank top and shorts.  feet are solid and hat is secure.  keep running.

gas is moving in my gut, I can feel it.  time for a a pit stop.  we discuss the options and decide to detour to the shopping center in Niwot.  it’s 20 minutes out of our way but worth the sidewalk and road pounding.  my legs immediately feel the abuse of concrete and right ankle squeaks in protest.  no fair, I want soft mountain trail.  please, soft mountain trail where I can feel the earth. no more concrete.  no more abuse.  please.

tod’s coffee shop, warm and inviting.  lighted bathroom, plumbing and running water.  just what a runner girl needs when nature calls.  leo orders a dirty chair with almond milk and my mouth waters.  dirty chai is this girl’s go-to drink and only Pablo makes it the way I like it, though tod’s uses a new brand of boulder-brewed chai with cayenne pepper; Serenity Chai.  ohhh… yum.  heaven.  spices and warmth.

i’m afraid of what i will discover inside.  no i’m not.  i’m running and i have hope and trust.  i run and push my body and pound on concrete and i still have trust.  hope is not extinguished in me and i have darkness and seems that all my bridges have been burned but you say that’s exactly how this grace this works.  it’s not the long walk home that changes this heart.  darkness is my friend, i close my eyes and i can see and i am not alone.  stars on fire, these are my desires, i will give them up to you this time. mumford and sons lyrics play in my mind.  the coffee shop is warm and inviting but it’s time to move, can’t let the muscles get cold.

pound, pound on the sidewalk.  so little road training, muscles and tendons rebel.  can’t take the abuse.  ouch.  please no, don’t pound on the concrete.  need soft trails, where are my sweet mountains?

on to the trail again, feet feel the difference through my sneakers and there is slight relief though my ankle hurts.  tight and ouch, too much.  haven’t rolled it, why is it pulling, tight and tweaky?  keep running, keep running, that’s the only answer, keep running.  only when you dig deep will you find the answers.  keep running.

another trailhead, a pause.  we’re behind schedule.  i can’t go any faster, will leo get to work on time?  guilt, guilt plays in my mind, he’s going to be late because of me.  iphone, texting, arranging meetings, it’s all set.  stretch my leg, massage the ankle.  he grabs my ankle and calf in his huge hands and applies pressure to the tendons and muscle; they move unwillingly with his insistence and i gasp.  hurt, but a good hurt.  release.  thank you.  i can run again.  keep running.

back on the trail, no detour this time.  whatever bowel disfunction is happening will keep until teller farm trailhead.  simple math has escaped me for so long, but I plow through it and calculate that this run will last 3:30 and total about 21 miles.  not the longest distance I’ve ever run but the second longest tim, shy by 17 minutes.  feet are tired.

leo asks about my legs.  i point to the spots; tight right glute, left IT bamd, right ankle and left foot feels like a bone is loose.  the pain spots zig-zag across my legs, typical of tight places.  one touches another; nothing is stand-alone in a body, it’s all connected and my heart connects to them all.

i can’t open my hips any more, they are tight.  in yoga,  loose hips mean that your heart is open.  i can’t open my heart on road, the pounding and brutal concrete hurts, it’s mundane and isolating and disconnecting, can’t feel the energy of the earth or my own power.  i’m worn down.

back on whiterock trail and we circle around.  home territory.  i take off in the dirt trail and leo watches me go, wondering about my direction.  i’m doing a loop leo, follow me.  he does.  i’m bonking leo, have to stop.  almond butter pack in my nathan hydration pack, have to eat.  protein for my body, i’m burning so many calories, need to replenish.  i can’t listen to conversation, my body is shutting down.  have to eat.

helicopter flies over us from the north; we watch it grow larger then diminish into the mountains to the west.  patches of sunlight dapple the flatirons and two swallows chase each other on the wind currents, growing smaller as they disappear into the tall grasses that cover the hillside.  quiet, so quiet.  tired.  sleepy tired.  keep running.  have to finish this.  he’s late because of me and i have to keep going.

sun is out and the air is warmer now, finally.  touch his arm and hand; they’re warm.  human warmth, blood is moving.  can’t be cold, don’t be cold.  sunshine is life.  bring on the sunshine, we need you, light the trail and warm the air.  cold, so cold.  my arms are still cold.  i’m sweating and cold.  don’t stop running, keep running, don’t get cold.

two more miles now, so close.  bonking again.  chocolate power gel has a shot of espresso.  i suck out two swallows and my stomach turns.  doesn’t feel good, don’t eat that, yuck, too sweet and sugary, body rebelling.  slow to a walk now, hand to the stomach, pressing holding, pressure.  ouch.  hurts.

keep running.  the faster you go, the sooner you’ll finish.  Gwen’s words from the marathon when she leap-frogged through the streets, calling out and cheering me on.  Screaming at other runners, telling them to move their butts and get it over with.  keep running.  i’m running Gwen.  I’ll always run.  i won’t stop, I promise.

one more mile.  half a mile.  quarter mile left.  I made it.  keep going.  3:30.  3:31.  Are those umbrellas up ahead?  Yes, they are.  3:32.  artists are here, drawing and painting.  3:33.  leo gets a flat tire as we enter the parking lot.  he made it 20.75 miles and got a flat 40 feet from the car.  I’m thrilled with his luck.  happy.  so happy.  we did it.

he puts his bike away and heads to work.  use the facilities and go home. I need fluid, electrolytes, food, shower and rest.

quiet now, pounding is done.  clean, fed, clothed and rested.  hours later and legs are okay.  i kept running.  i ran.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The splits on this run were typical for Chautauqua:

Mile 1: 12:26

Mile 2: 11:11

Mile 3:12:08

Mile 4: 8:22

Mile 5: 11:05

Mile 6: 7:45

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

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

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

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

Here are a few pictures I snapped of the morning:

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

Wildflowers in bloom

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

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

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

We met at Bobolink at the usual time Saturday morning.  7 AM in January is tough, because the sun hasn’t crested the horizon and the chill in the air is palpable.  The forecast called for 48 degrees, but we were at least 20 degrees shy of that mark when I pulled into the parking lot.

Jacqueline snapped a picture of us before we headed out.

The Gang, ready to run Bobolink

I’m the one in the pink jacket on the left.  Marcia is the one in the middle, obviously shivering.  I don’t know why we didn’t all look like that, now that I think about it.

I took my camera on the run, hoping for some new photos of the new year.  I regretted having a camera immediately, because my clutched hand froze in that position and I couldn’t flex my fingers for warmth.  The Smartwool gloves did nothing to ward off the chill that rose from the creek only 10 yards to the right.  I have no idea why I didn’t think to put the camera in my pocket.  Maybe the cold was messing with my brain synapses as well.

Everyone’s said what a cold, snowy winter we’ve had this year.  I’ll agree, based on the fact that the trails are still snow packed and icy.  The meager sun we’ve had these last few weeks hasn’t put a dent in the inches of snow, and the warmth of the day only melts the top of the snow enough so that sheens of ice appear the next day.  The constant thaw and freeze has made the trails even more treacherous for the dedicated runner.

Bobolink is an out-and-back in east Boulder that is moderately open and un-shaded.  Kathy, our faithful ‘cruise director’, thought this trail might be the best bet for the week.  I have a feeling we’ll be visiting this trail, or the open roads, for the next month unless we get a spate of unseasonable spring-like weather.

All that being said, Bobolink was every bit as icy and snow packed as every other trail around town I’ve been on lately.  This is to say nothing of the mountain trails, which I’m sure are even worse.  I’m going through trail withdrawal; I haven’t been up in over a month, maybe since November, due to the ice and snow.  Writing this, I’m suddenly aware of how much I’ve missed the mountains.  The YakTrax and I are going up later this week for a hike at the very least.  I can’t stand it any more.

We crossed over South Boulder Road instead of going through the underpass due to the glass-like sheen of ice.  No one was willing to risk a fall on the skating rink that has developed in the low-lying areas.

I snapped a blurry picture of the cute cows that lined our path. 

Cute cows on Bobolink

 They were feeling friendly and appeared to not notice us as we ran by  (This is amazing, since we’re 8 noisy women who make more noise than a migrating gaggle of geese.)  Sometimes we’ll literally have to stop and wait for a Momma cow to mosey off the path to her baby.  Death to the person who gets between a Momma and her baby.  A few years ago I heard a story of a neighbor who was running on this very trail.  She was lost in thought and didn’t notice that a Mom and baby were on either side of the trail.  When she passed between them, Mom Cow charged the lightweight human and tossed her in the air.  I’m sure this wasn’t difficult, as the neighbor was on the small side of 100 pounds, and she ended up with a few broken ribs, a broken vertebrae and a lot of bruising.  So now, whenever we’re running with the livestock, I carry on a one-sided conversation with the cows by telling them all about the weather, praising them for their beauty, and admiring their babies.  This way they know I’m harmless.

By mile 3 my hands were warm, and we turned around a half mile later to head back.  Sarah, Jacqueline and I were deep in conversation the entire time (no big shock here) and I was literally surprised when the run was over.  How can 7 miles go by so fast?  I still don’t know.

I was wishing for a change of clothes when I got in the car; my soaking wet sports bra and fleece-lined wicking shirt got chilly as soon as my body temperature returned to normal.  The hot Florentine coffee from Ozo’s helped put some pep back into my step, and the awesome company and conversation at the coffee shop got my weekend off to a fabulous start.

 I spend a lot of time inside my head.  I wiggle thoughts around, I play with words, I consider, weigh, investigate, summarize, and plan.  It’s a veritable party in there; well, a party of one.  After a day or two of such activity my body has turned into stone and I’m trapped inside the mountain. I feel drawn-down, like my body is made of lead.  There’s no room inside me for openness, no space that’s not consumed by spiraling, twirling, whirling colorful thoughts and emotions that have no beginning and no end.  I’m gasping for breath, light, openness, space, peace, and quiet from the never-ending barrage of humanness that threatens to bury me alive.

 So I run.  I lace up my shoes and head into the early Colorado morning.  I run before everyone is awake, before the demands of the day are upon me.  I run to shut my brain up, to create movement that reminds my soul there IS room for light, openness, beauty and breath. 

 I run fast sometimes, so fast I feel like I’m flying.  I can’t feel the individual parts of my body anymore and all I can feel is air whooshing into my lungs in rhythm to the pounding of my feet.  Thoughts start melting away and all of a sudden I have achieved what the Zen masters peddle; freedom from thought.  My mind is clear and I feel like I’ve entered a room that is pure light.  I inhale and the vastness of the vibrant Colorado sunshine fills my abdomen with a snow-blinding brilliance.

 I run trails with the ladies on Saturday mornings.  I live for these mornings.  I adore the uneven terrain and pine trees that stand on the sidelines and cheer me on.  I nimbly jump over rocks and my feet find secure placement on rocky ground.  Running trails keeps me in the absolute here and now; there’s no room for wandering minds lest an ankle rolls or the urge to play Superman hits.  Trail running is a metaphor for my inner thoughts; some places are easy on the feet and wide enough for friends to run two and three abreast, some of the climbs are so steep there’s only space for loud wheezing breath and focus on putting one foot in front of another, and some places have downhills that allow me to lean back and experience the pleasure of absolute fitness of my body.

I’ve often called running my “moving meditation”.  It’s the place I go to get away from the heaviness of being a person living in the craziness of this planet.  It’s my escape, but it’s also the place where I feel the essence of ME much more acutely than I do most any other place or time.  I run for myself, and often, by myself.  I push my boundaries and find the vast caverns of potential between the deteriorating chinked cracks in my armor.

 I run because when I do, I am so much more than I already am.  My soul takes flights and returns to my body, content to do battle one more day. 

***Please take some time to write down YOUR story and share it.   Why do you run?  What motivates you?  What have you discovered?  Email me LaraATsaturdaymorningzenDOTcom.

Connor’s had a cold for the past 9 days.  It started with an asthmatic cough last Friday? Saturday? (I don’t even remember anymore) where he couldn’t get his breath.  He’s been on the nebulizer every 4 hours (Albuterol), and taking Pulmicort every 12 hours.  This treatment is working, marginally, to loosen his lungs so that the incessant cough becomes slightly productive.  However, either Bill or I have been up with him twice a night for the past week, giving him treatments, propping him up in bed, and otherwise trying to get his body to quiet down.

With great hopes, I planned to run on Saturday with my Saturday Morning running group.  I’ve been home with a sick child for 5 days straight during the Christmas season, which means all my shopping and wild madness has come to a complete standstill.  I haven’t seen an adult in days and desperately needed the exercise, routine, and friendship a running group provides.

Sadly, Saturday morning was just like the other mornings.  I dressed in my running clothes only to hear the beginning strains of a coughing fit, signaling that sleep was over.  Since I was already up, I didn’t feel like I could ignore the needs of my child, run out the door, and force Bill to get up and give Connor the breathing treatments.  With a big sigh I embraced my parenthood and took care of my sick boy.  With a little (secret) sigh of relief, I realized I didn’t have to go running on Whiterock Trail in 20 degree weather with a sore throat (thanks Connor).  I curled up with him in his bed, pulled the comforter around my shoulders, and drifted in and out of sleep to the hum of the nebulizer.  My tiredness was apparent even to me, and the secret sigh of relief I felt at not running in 20 degree weather got a little bigger when I realized that I had no energy to run, at all.

I hoped all through the morning that timing would work out so I could sneak out for even a quick 5K in the sunny 45-degree afternoon.  After Sophie and I got home from her Championship basketball game (her team won) and Bill and Connor returned from the Doctor’s office, the kids got involved with their parallel activities, Connor started coughing again, lunch had to be made, Bill went to Costco to pick up prescriptions and the last of the stocking stuffers and I… started losing my mind.  Cabin fever hit me like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz.  Sophie’s  pecking at Connor was hen-nish, and I embraced my parenthood once again.  Bill returned home, I packed Sophie into the car and left for a flurry or errands, any errand I could think of was fair game.  Just…to…get…out…of…the…house.

So.  No running yesterday, unless you count the mental laps.

By 8 PM Connor was finally, blissfully, asleep.  I crawled into my bed next to a very sad little 10-year-old who is jealous of the attention Sick Boy is receiving from Mommy.  She cuddled right up next to me, and we both let sleep take us to the magical place we only dream of during the day.

The big news is that HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!!  It was 5:56 when the coughing started, which is 15 minutes shy of a full 10 hours of deep, restful sleep.  I feel pretty darn good this morning, and am watching the colors in the sunrise deepen as I type.  It’s 28 degrees this fine morning, which is a VAST improvement from yesterday’s 20 degrees.  The neb treatments have been completed, medicine has been administered, Bill is up making coffee and I am READY to RUN.  Woo-hoo!!

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.

Saturday morning dawned brightly.  It was decided that due to the two brief snowstorms and the questionable conditions of the trails, we would do a track workout. Clare and Cherry came up with a brief outline for the track, and emailed it to everyone prior to the morning run so we would be prepared.

        The workout called for a brief warm-up around the neighborhood, then four eight hundreds with a four hundred rest lap in between, and two twelve hundreds with a rest lap in between.  It sounded pretty innocuous but I knew that as the laps went by I would get slower and slower.  I’d have to try to find a pace I could maintain.

        Paula, Susan, and Cherry led the group, while Karley, Missy, Zina and I followed.  I didn’t get my timer started at the right point; it was still timing the warm-up.  I’d have to catch it after the first eight hundred and try to get the next three splits.

        We were going to try to do the eight hundreds in about three minutes and thirty seconds, which would translate into a seven minute mile.  That’s a decent clip for our group; all of us can do a seven minute mile for a given section, but wouldn’t race a 10K or half-marathon at that speed.  I mistakenly did a 4K race last year and about killed myself by coming in at seventeen minutes.  That’s approximately six minutes and thirty seconds per mile, a lot faster than usual for me.  I hadn’t been training for that pace and knew after the first mile that I was totally screwed.  I ended up picking a woman in front of me and chasing her for the last mile and a half. If I had been wearing a heart-rate monitor I’m sure it would have told me that I was at one hundred percent capacity and was about to blow a gasket.

        Thus, here I am at the track, ready to work on speed and strength.  It’s early March and I don’t have a race scheduled until late spring, but it’s always a good idea to pop some speed and strength training into the mix.

        My first eight hundred feels good.  I come in right on target, and slow just a hair for a four hundred recovery.  I don’t slow enough though, and I catch Cherry, Paula and Susan around the bend.  I forgot that the rest lap is supposed to be about half of the exertion I just did, not eighty five percent of it.  We hit the starting line and miracle of miracles, I remember to hit my timer.  I run with them for the second eight hundred and hear Paula report her 3:17 time for that loop.  She’s incredibly consistent in her running.  When she raced she could shoot for a time and hit it within a few seconds on either side of her finish time.  Because I don’t have that sense of pace yet I chase other people, to keep my head from focusing on my burning thighs.

        We do a quick four hundred recovery and start again.  I’m still feeling strong, though can sense a slight tightening in my right hip.  This hip has bothered me for the past fifteen years, ever since I was hiking through the muck in a Costa Rican rainforest.  It wasn’t until we were seated on the bus and rolling down the road that I realized something was wrong. I looked down at my legs and saw that my right knee was not on the same plane as my left knee; it was about two inches shorter even though my butt was flush with the back of the seat.  It took about twenty four hours of stretching, moaning, and millions of yoga positions before I popped the hip back to its correct place.  The strain of walking through the muck of the rainforest had pulled the ligament of my hip and shoved the ball of the joint straight into the edge of the socket, leaving no cushioning. The damage to the joint and soft tissue was extensive; years of physical therapy, yoga, strengthening, Rolfing, massage, and exercise have made it strong enough to run and cycle.  I’ll probably never be able to sit for extended periods of time, though that’s actually a blessing in disguise.  Who wants to sit on their butt for hours at a time?

        As we circle the bend in the track I hear Karley’s voice from across the way.  She’s running with someone, happily chatting away.  She’s famous in our group for all the talking she does while running.  For her, the Saturday Morning Runs are as much about the company as it is about the exercise.  She’s good natured, good spirited, and quick to compliment someone on a strong run or a good showing of strength.

        We come out of the loop and the other ladies ease into the four hundred recovery.  I’m glad that I’ve made it, and clocked a respectable time of 3:17 for the third eight hundred.  I slow down and jog over to my water bottle for a quick drink and snap a few pictures while I’m there.  It dawns on me that I should be doing my recovery lap, as there’s one more eight hundred in the series!  Whoops! I was mentally prepared for three eight hundreds, not four, even though we had discussed this before starting.

        I wait for my trio to come around the corner and pick them up at the starting line.  After only a few steps I fall behind and realize that I’m just going to have to watch their backs for this round.  I don’t have it in me.  My mind has outwitted my body and I don’t have the endurance to push through another eight hundred at the same pace.  My hips are tight and my stomach is rolling slightly, doing the happy-dance it does before the exercise-induced vomit does an instant trajectory through my body.

        Paula, Cherry and Susan take a moment after their final eight hundred to grab a drink of water.  I catch up with them and hear that Paula has clocked a 3:18, 3:17, 3:17, and 3:18, respectively.  Wow.  If there’s a lesson for me here today it’s how to strengthen my body so that I can tell it what to do during a race, regardless of the adrenalin or “race-high” that occurs.

        We take off for a slower twelve hundred.  As I piddle around the track I take a few moments to look around.  Earlier I was concentrating so hard on my speed and pace that I didn’t notice the cloudless sky.  Now I take the view in, and breathe deeply.  The air is soft.  I’m warm and content from the exercise. I know that once we stop moving I’ll be chilly in the fifty degree breeze with my wet sports-bra sticking to me, but right now I’m completely content in the perfection of the moment and totally glad I made it without losing my cookies.