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!!!