October 1, 2011

Saturday Morning with the Girls

Last night I lay in bed trying to decide if I was up for a run with the girls.  Kathy organized the run to meet at Doudy Draw at 7am, and I had yet to RSVP to the group.  My stomach had been churning since I ate a late lunch at the Smiling Moose Deli.  I ordered a gluten-free sammy but I don’t think that’s what I got.

I woke after seven solid hours of sleep and decided that if I missed the run, I would kick myself for the rest of the weekend.  I needed to get outside, feel the sunshine and enjoy the company of other women.  I needed to get out of my head.

I thought about eating something and grabbed a banana for the road, just in case the urge to eat ever came back.  It didn’t, so I left it in the car for my post-run recovery fuel.  If I was hungry.

When I left the house the car thermometer read 56 degrees.  During the drive from Louisville to Doudy Draw it dropped to 46 degrees, then miraculously went back up to 60 as I pulled into the trailhead parking lot.  I organized my clothing and decided to wear arm warmers with my t-shirt.  They would be easy enough to carry later when I overheated.

The group was about 15 women strong.  I knew 6 of them well and had seen several others at previous runs over the summer, when I was a hit-or-miss member of the weekly group.  After a few minutes of standing around, hugging friends and meeting new people, we hit the dirt.

This run was important to me because it was the first trail run since I injured my leg and foot several weeks ago.  I needed to see how my foot would do on uneven terrain.  The last full week of training was a month ago, and this was my first week back.  During the 3 weeks of injury I ran super-short distances a handful of times, but nothing that I could build on toward the Slickrock 50k that’s coming at me like a train.  October 8 is next Saturday, and my training has been seriously stalled.

The sun was just cresting the horizon when we headed up the hill.  Two of the women that I had seen on previous runs were in front of me; coincidentally, both were named Allison.  Kathy, Jacqueline and I grouped together and started up the incline that serves as a 2k warm-up.  They talked about their race last weekend, the Aspen Goldenleaf Half Marathon.  I was supposed to run it, but bailed because of my foot and a family commitment in Colorado Springs.  This is two years in a row I was supposed to run it; next year I’ll be there for sure.

The trail leveled out for a stretch, then narrowed into single-track with rocks.  Kathy and Jacqueline slowed down and Beth with the Long Legs caught up.  We talked about our life news (kids, work) and somehow caught up to the two Allison’s.  Now we were a four-some, and we stayed together for the remainder of the run.

The low angle of the sunlight caught the red leaves on the sumac bushes at such an angle that they looked like they were backlit.  The reds sparkled against the yellowing grasses and sharp angles of the rocks.  This is my favorite time of year, for so many reasons.

We came to the first fork and turned right, heading toward Eldorado Canyon.  A quick body check told me that everything was working well.  As we made a hairpin turn and traversed our way up the hill I caught sight of two men and a woman not more than a hundred yards behind us; they were a small group that somehow got caught in our larger group.  I couldn’t look at them for more than a second though; my attention was firmly on the ground in front of me.

The two Allison’s led the way and I tuned out all conversation, aware of only my breath and the next footstep.  I don’t recall thinking or noticing anything except the ground in front of me.  This zen running lasted probably only a few minutes, but it slowed down time and brought me firmly back into the moment.  My hamster-mind finally stopped its incessant spinning.  There was finally more room to breathe; my body was lighter.

At the top of the hill we turned south and ran through the Fairy Forest (my unofficial name for it).  The two Allison’s stopped to look at a map which confused them more, then followed me over the slight rise and across the bridge to Goshawk Ridge.  They were relying on me for direction.  Thankfully, I’ve been here dozens of times; this is my favorite route ever.  Every time I run it, it’s different.  I’m always different too, and the mountain and I get to know each other on brand-new terms every time we say Hello.

We meandered through the beauty that is Goshawk Ridge and I got my little adrenalin rush toward the end when I hit the steep decline and got to roll like an avalanche, comin’ down the mountain.

I called out to the girls to take a left at the fork and we ran into the threesome that had originally been behind us on the hairpin turn.  They had taken a different fork and then ended up on the road, lost.  I led them back to the correct turn that would take them into Eldo Canyon.  Allison #1 and I danced our way down the rock steps and dodged scree, and the threesome fell away.

In the canyon we all looked up and laughed.  The rock face shone in the sunlight.  It’s a beautiful thing, and you’re either blind or dead if you don’t appreciate the natural wonder of the place.  I’m neither, and it gives me tingles every time.

As we ran out of the canyon, Allison #2 and I fell into pace and started chatting.  I told her about the Slickrock 50k race next weekend, and how circumstances have changed so that I’m going out alone.  The man that I’ve been seeing was supposed to go with me; our passionately tumultuous relationship split us apart recently.  I don’t know anyone who’s going to be racing in Moab next week, and there’s no one for me to stay with.  I’m 100% on my own.

A few days ago, I thought for about two seconds about not going.  But that idea made me want to cry even more.  I’ve missed out on too many adventures and too many races this summer to let this one go.  I signed up for it because I wanted to push myself farther than I’ve ever gone.  Well, it looks like it will be three days of being completely on my own, with no one to catch me after 30 miles of running.  I don’t want to ask anyone else to go with me; I’m tired of asking for what I need.  Asking makes it feel like it’s someone’s obligation to give me something, which is exactly opposite of receiving the gift of someone’s excitement and enthusiasm of support.

As I explained all this to Allison #2, she listened quietly and nodded.  Then she said the same thing that I’ve heard from several people this week.  “You’re a strong woman, stronger than you think.  You’ll be just fine.”

I wish I saw the same woman she saw.  Until I do, I guess I’ll keep running, keep pushing my own boundaries, and learn to run alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: Fall 2011, Trails, Training Tagged: , , , ,
October 4, 2009

Talking on the Run

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      Cold air hit my lungs as soon as we started puffing up Chautauqua.  The goal was to run and out and back on the Mesa Trail from Chautauqua up to the old radio tower site.  This was a moderately short distance run at a mere 5.85 miles, but because of the sheer amount of hills, talking and picture-taking, it took us over an hour.

            My lungs burned from the second I tried to inhale deeply.  My head was cold even though I wore my Smart Wool hat and I couldn’t feel my fingers inside my Smart Wool glove liners.  My heart rate soared to 80% capacity within a minute.  I couldn’t talk, couldn’t feel the fingers on my right hand, and concentrated on my breathing.

            My lungs hurt and it was painful to try to gasp more air into my burning sacs.  I ran close to Susan, Shari, Juli, Sarah and Beth.  For the first sixteen minutes of the run, it was enough to be close to my friends and enjoy their company.

            I carried my camera with me.  The fall colors are in bloom and I’m making a concerted effort to take as many pictures as I can.  Because of my random clicking, I fell behind the group from time to time.DSCN0896

            During one of these moments I stopped in a vantage point and pointed my camera downwards.  This location has a lot of stairs built into the hill and is a veritable hair-pin turn fiesta.  With the gold and red leaves of the trees and bushes, I waited for the ladies to emerge from a hairpin turn so I could get the five of them together.  The valley echoed with their laughter and chatter.  It was a wall of happy noise that bubbled up from the brush.  No bear or wild animal in its right mind would be anywhere near the group.  I clicked my picture of their staggered white hats bobbing along, and ran downhill as fast as I could to catch up.  I wanted to be a part of the laughter and the camaraderie more than anything.

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            And suddenly, their voices were gone.  I was almost at the bridge that crosses over a seasonal creek when the sound of their voices disappeared completely, as though the TV had been abruptly muted.

            My brief respite from the hills was over; the climb began again to the back side of NCAR.  I didn’t catch the group until we descended to the service road that leads to the radio tower.  By this time the chatter had ceased.  Everyone had their head down and was working on the mile-plus climb to the tower.  We usually break apart a little at this point; sometimes a few seconds’ walk is necessary to relieve the tension of the legs.  I clicked a few more pictures of scenery and when I heard Kathy’s chattering voice drifting over the wayside, I stopped to capture her ascent as well.

            When I reached the top Sarah climbed the rocks to the vantage point that overlooks the entire Boulder valley, and exclaimed at the sight.  We all climbed up and I did a group portrait in the early morning light.

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            On the way back down I zipped past the ladies with my turbo-charged legs.  Juli turned around and said, “Who’s that barreling down on me?”

            “Sorry, I’ve only got one down-hill speed,” I said as I rolled around her.  At that angle, it’s super-hard to slow down.  Much easier to just let the legs turn over and control the trajectory.

            Pausing to take pictures at the next uphill climb, we played a little leapfrog again and I resumed my position at the back of the pile.  Susan, right behind me, was nursing a sore hamstring.  I matched her pace and we chatted for the first time since our car-ride to the trailhead.  She said something at one point that stood out and managed to pivot itself into the central point of today’s run.

            “My husband doesn’t know how we can talk during these runs.  He’s hung up on the physiology talking while running.”

            “We’re not running 6 minute miles during these runs,” I pointed out.  “We’re going at a decent clip but it’s still slow enough to carry on a conversation.”

            “Yeah, I try to tell him that.  He still doesn’t get it.  I mean, he knows that it’s important to me to be out here on Saturday mornings or to get out and run by myself during the week, but he doesn’t understand the talking part.”

            “It’s ‘connection’, pure and simple.  Sometimes these conversations are the most sustained conversations we have all week with ANYONE.  It’s soul food.  Why run any faster if you can’t chat with your friends?”

            “I try to tell him that.  He understands, but he doesn’t really understand.  That’s okay, as long as I can get out here!”

            The run was hard and my lungs burned for the first twenty minutes.  By the end I was breathing fine, could feel all my appendages, and the temperature had risen twelve degrees.  It was downright balmy, as illustrated by the high school cross-country team arriving in their shorts and t-shirts.  Now, it was time for resting at the coffee shop with a hot beverage and more talk and laughter.  I can not think of a better way to begin my weekend.

Filed Under: Seasons Tagged: , , , , , , , ,
September 24, 2009

Time Management

During my mid-week run today all I could think about was the fact that I needed to cut my run short so I could get home and get to work. I’ve designated Thursdays as my one day during the week when I have no appointments or commitments; it’s my writing day and completely sacred. After dropping the kids off at school, running was going to take an hour out of the six hours I have before I need to pick them up again. Was this really how I wanted to spend my time?

Then it occurred to me that I am in the midst of a road-block. My time management has gone down the toilet and I need to re-evaluate how I’m spending my time.

I’m consulting with a local high school on backstage theatre work, specifically Stage Management, in conjunction with their fall musical. In a former aspect of my life I was a professional stage hand. This week I was in the classroom twice and spoke with a small group of students interested in Stage Management. The first day I spoke briefly about calling the show (the actual act of calling technical cues during the performance). The rest of the time I discussed the act of management; time management, relationship management, and how to learn from interactions that don’t always go swimmingly.

My husband, Bill, has been hired by the same high school to be in charge of building a massive set. He’s in a state of overwhelm right now, wondering how it’s all going to get built in the six and a half hours he has allotted a crew to build every week, as well as wondering how he’s going to keep up with the fitness program his physical therapist designed for him, attend to his business as a computer consultant, be available to his kids and hang out with me every so often as well.

I’m noticing in my own life that writing has taken a back seat to all the other equally important things that I have going on in my life. Yesterday I met with a dear friend. We’re working on a memoir together and have been trying to do some writing on our own between the times that we see each other. He was frustrated with his lack of time to simply sit, reflect, and write. His life is full of family commitments, his job, and being available to other cancer patients that are at the beginning of their own treatments. Instead of reviewing what we had written in the past two weeks, we simply sat and wrote, side by side.

Where am I going with all this busy-ness? Well, it occurs to me that just this week I was talking to kids about management. I asked them to think about the road blocks that keep coming up in their lives and issues that keep rearing their ugly heads. Instead of getting frustrated by these things, I told them, take a step back and evaluate where you are and what YOU could do differently, instead of wishing things were different or that you had more time/money/different people to deal with. We all have the hand we’re dealt, and it’s up to us to either accept the situation at hand, or, if we truly don’t like it, we can suggest possibilities for a new course. The choice is ours.

In giving this advice to eager high school students, I realize that I need to heed it myself. I write this blog about my weekly Saturday morning runs to force myself to slow down with daily life and reflect on where I was, what I saw, how I felt, and what life was like AT THAT MOMENT. I choose to write about this particular moment in time because it is a constant in my life that has its own unique changes as time gently rolls by. If I can’t find the time in my life to reflect and write while the memories are fresh, then it seems to me that I need to do a little adjusting of my own to make room for that piece of living that feeds my soul.

Therefore, I am declaring Sunday morning to be my time to sit at the computer, in my pajamas, with a cup of tea. Because I don’t usually sleep in too much, I think taking three hours, from 6-9 AM, as my own is not only reasonable but easily accomplished.

Bill talked to his P.T. yesterday about his frustration in not being able to find the time to do his workouts. They talked about his schedule and decided there was time on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from 3-4 PM for him to get to the gym, as well as on Sunday mornings. He can do his early morning runs on Monday, Wednesday and either Friday or Saturday, as time allows. He left his appointment feeling positive about taking care of his health and attending to his own personal needs, without sacrificing the time and energy he needs to devote to his jobs. Again, this was just a simple shift in perspective and time management.

That raises the question: what other things in our lives can be easily managed with a simple shift in perspective or time management? I’m not saying we need to work HARDER at anything; not at all. I’m absolutely advocating that we can all work a little SMARTER by taking a few moments to evaluate our situation and make some adjustments.

Filed Under: Seasons Tagged: ,
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