I couldn’t braid my hair this morning; it took four tries to get all the hair in there. I was a little worried at first that my braiding fiasco was going to be a precursor to bad things happening later, but apparently not.

When I arrived at the trailhead it was NOT 25 degrees and sunny; it was 12 degrees and cloudy. Thankfully I was dressed moderately well and after the first mile my hands warmed up inside my SmartWool liner gloves. My running friend Jo joined us this morning and we chatted about the state of our worlds, up until we got to mile two and a big hill.

I was in the middle of some explanation about a book we had just read for book club called “The City of Thieves”. I was yakking away about the plot and the time frame when we came up behind a few other runner friends. Adriana heard me coming and said, “You have breath for talking and running up a hill, you go first!” so we passed her and Marcia.  A minute later I was still talking and we came up behind two more friends. I passed them and turned around to talk to Jo some more… she had disappeared.

The trail wasn’t muddy at all today. The little snow we received yesterday didn’t do any damage to the single-track, and it was easy to find footing on the soft dirt. I didn’t have my sunglasses with me and was grateful that the blazing sunshine didn’t come out to ruin my eyeballs.

Another hill and I kept pushing pace. Fragments of a conversation I had with a friend a few days ago kept rolling through my head. I had been telling him about a time back in April when I was so numb from emotion that I ran hard just to feel the pounding of my heart that told me I was still alive. I said that I could never do that again but he heartily disagreed. He opined that maybe I wouldn’t TRY to do it again, but I had the ability. It’s always with me. I thought about that as I looked ahead and saw the leaders of our pack. I was gaining on them.

I cleared my mind, breathed deeply and concentrated on the slight chill of my legs, my rhythmic breath and the uneven terrain in front of me. I rolled my ankle last week and there was no pain. I was 100% again.

The hill kept going, I pushed pace and suddenly I had caught up to the leaders. I carefully put my hand on my friend’s back to let her know I was there; she jumped a mile high and I grabbed her arm to steady her. Guess I should have told them I was coming up behind them. We said Hi and I kept going up the hill, grinding out my own pace.

Two minutes later I was at the water tower, on the top of the hill overlooking all of Boulder Valley. Snowcapped mountains and swaths of brown, bare trees dotted the landscape. A dormant, cold January morning that pulsed with a thread of possibility.
I pushed pause on the Garmin and walked for a minute to keep my muscles warm as I waited for my two friends to crest the hill. Behind them, about a half-mile away, another group of women were making their way towards us. I couldn’t see the tail end of the gang; they were still somewhere farther behind, hidden from view by a rolling hill.

Alison and I decided to do the 8-mile loop. Immediately my small friend in the red jacket that had jumped out of her skin decided to turn back with the group. The cold was hurting her lungs and she described it as “breathing through charcoal”. Alison and I headed to the bottom of the hill where we took a sharp turn to the south and circled the base of the neighborhood that butted up against the open space. Frost clung to the hair that peeked out from under her cap. Our legs got a slight reprieve on the flat on the meadow, and then we headed uphill again and elevated our heart rates on the soft dirt trail.

We rounded out the lollipop loop and headed back. It was mostly down hill from here and since everything still felt good (but cold) we picked up the pace. Chatting all the way, the miles melted away and suddenly we came up behind the caboose of the group that had turned around early. They scooted over for us and let us pass. Alison was getting tired.

Another big descent and suddenly she wasn’t there anymore. I had a brief moment of déjà vu on a sharp turn that catapulted me back into reality and the present. My mind had drifted and it returned with a jolt. I tucked in my arms, navigated a tight hairpin turn, said Hello to a runner heading the opposite direction and added a bit of speed. A quick glance at the Garmin told me I had dropped into the 7-minute/mile range.

Two minutes later I passed another runner from our group and cranked up the speed just a little bit more. Could I catch the next group before the trailhead? Alison had cheered for me as I pulled away from her, calling out “Go catch them all!”. Could I do it?

Three runners were in sight now; I added a little more juice to the legs and dropped to a 7:30/mile pace. Reel them in. A quarter of a mile later I passed them, and plowed up the last 200 yards to the trailhead, hitting Stop on the Garmin.

The gang assembled at the trailhead and we laughed to see the frost covering everyone’s hair. Apparently only one side of my braids were white; maybe my exhale was caught in the breeze and froze only the right side? No matter. It was time to get out of the cold and head to the warm coffee shop where piping hot beverage awaited us, our reward for a job well done.

In my car I caught a glimpse of my face in the rear view mirror. My eyes were bright and my skin was red with cold. A smile floated over my features and the crinkles around my eyes were loud and happy. This day felt good. The run felt great. The friendship and laughter of the women was warmth that filled my belly with happiness. Each piece of the puzzle melded together to create a huge canvas that held the message “This day is a gift. You are loved. – the Universe”.

I tucked that love in my back pocket and headed to the Brewing Market where I placed my order for a Mint Mocha, a decadent little coffee treat to celebrate the gift of the day.

I emailed Kathy (our cruise director) on Wednesday and begged for an 8-mile trail run that wasn’t a brutal climb.  She agreed that Whiterock would be a good choice because of the hill climb and several miles of interspersed flats.  She sent out the Thursday email and the responses came pouring in.  All told, there were 15 of us on the trail, a veritable Gaggle of Women.

Saturday Morning running crew

I snapped this picture just before we set out; check out the STRONG, FIT,  BEAUTIFUL women!  :-)  No, I’m not in the picture, I didn’t think to set the timer so we could ALL be in it.  I thought it was cool enough to get the crew in the photo and didn’t think about inserting myself until afterwards.  Oops.

I took a few steps and then stopped at the edge of the parking lot to take this amazing picture of dawn kissing the mountains and turning everything pink.  Hello, autumn in Colorado, I love you!

Dawn breaking on the Foothills of Boulder

Because I stopped to take this picture, I was at the back of the pack as we jumped onto the trail.  That was a good place for me because I’ve gotten so used to being alone on my runs.  I needed a moment to adjust to being in a group again.  Conversations were flowing around and over me, filling me up like a warm, comforting soup on a crisp fall day.  I’ve missed out on the conversation of my women friends for a few months, and in a split second I realized just how much I’ve missed by not joining the weekly runs.

It was great running on trail with the Saturday morning gang again, and my legs were itching for some serious “push”.  I held back tough, and saved the “push” for jumping and dodging pile after amazing pile of horse turd.  We laughed at the sheer bounty, the front runners pointed out the hazards, and we wove our way up the hill.

After a few miles I fell in with Shari, a good friend who is visiting from California for the weekend.  She asked me what I’ve been up to lately and I launched into a long-winded recount of my summer, vacations, and the circuitous path that led me to signing up for a marathon.  When I finally finished and returned the question, she surprised me by saying, “Can’t… talk… now… hills…”

Oh!  I hadn’t even noticed that we were on the hardest hill of the course.  And THAT took me totally by surprise.  This hill is a gradual, steep hill that just keeps going and going.  Maybe a mile or so of incline that starts out easy and then gets worse the longer you’re on it.  The surprise?  I didn’t notice I was on the hill.  And I talked the entire way up it.  Easily.  Could it be that my endurance is greater with all this training, that my lungs are stronger, that my legs are stronger even though I haven’t been doing specific mountain hill work?

We stopped at the water tower, the highest point on the trail, and admired the view.  It’s truly stunning to stand there and see the mountains rise above the Boulder Valley, the colors weaving patterns along the ground and hills, and the golden sunlight spotlighting the entire thing.

Runner friends at the water tower, looking west to the mountains

We ran to the bottom of the trail and turned left at the gate, circumnavigated the hillside and completed a lollipop.  At this point I ran with Juli and we discussed the finer points of hydration and nutrition during race day.  I’m hopeful she’ll run with me next week on my 20-miler; it would be fabulous to have her company while we run two loops around the Boulder Backroads for three hours.

As we headed back towards the parking lot we came upon a man meandering his way up another little hill.  Someone called out “Excuse us!” but he didn’t turn or move.  We cracked up at this, realizing that his music was up so loud that he didn’t hear five chattering women coming up on his six.  When we were right behind him we called out again and watched him jump out of his skin at the sound and sight of us.

I’m the only one of the group that runs with a Garmin, so I’m the official keeper of distance tracking.   Siga wondered if the add-on loop added much distance to the run; I guessed that we would come in around 8.5 miles.  Juli was surprised; she thought it was more of 7 or 7.5 miles.

A few minutes later we hit the last flat of the run and reeled it in.  I glanced at the Garmin and noticed that we were suddenly running 7:50/mile, a good shake-out pace after the hills.  Have I mentioned that I love running with these women?  They are strong, both mentally and physically.  We all have children, families, parents, and jobs.  We’re all passionate about finding balance in our lives, and living that balance every day.  And part of that balance is running fast because it just feels good!

Back at the trailhead I stopped the Garmin and announced the distance; 8.46 miles.  Hey, I was right!  How about that.

Unfortunately I couldn’t stop and chat in the parking lot, or stretch my legs on the bumper of the car, or go to coffee with the group.  I had to get home to drive Sophie to her activity while Bill and Connor headed to the 9 AM soccer game. It was a “divide and conquer” sort of day.  I unlocked the car and slid inside, catching a glimpse of my face in the mirror.  A sheen of sweat covered my face and my eyes were bright and alert, active and engaged.  I should have taken a picture, because my face at that moment is what I look like when I’m truly happy.

My quads are feeling it most of all, and as an interesting factoid, my neck is a little sore, though that could be from a(nother) virus I’m fighting.  You heard right, folks; I’m fighting round three right now.  Seems the kids and I are playing a very polite game of sharing our germs this winter.  As soon as one of us gets well, the next one comes down with it, and passes it to the third… and so on.  But I don’t want to talk about that today.

The run yesterday was AWESOME!  The day started out totally clear with the most brilliant blue sky I’ve seen in months.  I adore Colorado because our air is thin enough up here to get a really good look at the sky and the mountains in the touchable distance.  We don’t have all that extra oxygen hanging around, muddying up the view.  I love Colorado and the thinness of the air.  Too much oxygen and the lungs get wimpy.  At a mile above sea level, things are perfect.  Most healthy people’s blood oxygen level hovers around 97-98%.  Who needs those extra percentage points of oxygen?  Not me!

I checked the temperature before I dressed yesterday, hoping against hope that it was above freezing.  If it was 35 degrees by 6 AM, then chances were good that the temp would creep higher during the run and I could actually get away with wearing shorts.  It wasn’t to be… the thermometer read 29 degrees, so I resigned myself to running tights and my red pullover.  As an afterthought, I grabbed the famed pink jacket, knowing that the first mile of Whiterock is in a gully that typically is 5-10 degrees cooler than the surrounding air and can be brutal if you’re not dressed properly.

S. stopped at my house at 6:50, and we headed down the road.  It was great to catch up with her; now that the early morning basketball games are over, she has time to run at 7 AM again.  There was a gang of women waiting in the parking lot when we pulled in; we were one of the last to arrive.  I got myself situated, we stood around and chatted for a few minutes, and off we went.

The gully wasn’t as cold as I feared, and after a mile I had worked up a sweat.  J. was super fast and had a good 200-400 meters on S., B. and me for the first two miles.  She’s small, but she’s FAST.  I caught up to her after we hit a downhill (I’m a big fan of downhill, I roll like an avalanche and pick up speed pretty quickly), though once we hit the brutally long hill to the top of the water tower S. and B. gained on us and passed us both.  Apparently I was too busy playing with my camera to maintain a heavy pace, though after I looked at this shot of the mountains, I’m glad I dawdled.

Foothills of Boulder on a beautiful Spring morning

At the water tower we stopped and waited for T. to arrive.  J. bemoaned the fact that she doesn’t have the strength to plow up the hills as fast as the rest of us with our huge legs, so we posed and she snapped this picture.  I cropped it so as to not embarrass anyone.  Note the huge leg muscles and glutes.  HA!

Killer glutes! Take THAT, hills!

We did the “lollipop” loop, hooked back around to the “stem”, and headed home.  By this time I was sweating buckets and had taken off my hat and gloves.  The pink jacket would have been history, but the arms won’t stay tied around my waist and it’s never worth the effort to try to carry it, so I sucked it up and sweated, figuring that sweating is considered therapeutic in many circles.  Some people even PAY to sweat.  Since I was getting it for free, I figured I’d go hog wild.

J., S. and B. got farther and farther ahead and I fiddled with my camera.  T. was a little behind me fighting the good fight with her own cold, so I hooked into her pace and conducted a spirited monologue with my captive audience.  By mile 6 she was pretty much toasted, and said that she was about done.  I did what all good running buddies do; I ignored her and kept talking, giving her something to focus on other than her tired legs and body.  When we arrived at the parking lot at the end of our 7.5 miles she even thanked me!  I know it wasn’t my inspired conversation that she was talking about, but the fact that I let her “anchor” into me and let me “pull” her, when she didn’t have anything left.

We waited a few more minutes for the gang to congregate (we’re kind of like the Army, in that no one gets left behind) before heading to coffee at the Brewing Market on 95^th and Arapaho.  I’m going to stop here, because the coffee experience was pretty amazing and there’s room to devote an entire post to the choices of coffees and milk products that go into them.

Until next time… cheers, and keep running!

Shari and I kicked in the after-burners for a final bit of speed work and cruised into the parking lot.  Elizabeth and Kathy had arrived back at the cars a few minutes prior and joined Beth in stretching.  Our other Beth, “Beth of the Infinite Legs”, couldn’t stay for coffee and had just left with her neighbor.

As we stood around the parking lot exuding our stink on to each other, Sarah voiced thoughts that have percolated in my brain many times over the seasons.  She summed it up so well.  “It is so amazing to be a part of this group, where there are so many levels of ability and no one gets left behind.  Any one of us could lead the pack.”

Shari finished the sentiment – “It just depends on the day, that’s all.  What’s really amazing is there’s no ego.”

There were murmurs of agreement.  So many different ability levels, people who have raced for years, new runners, post-baby runners, new racers… we have a good mix.

I thought about this little exchange all weekend; in fact, it came to define the run for me.  The women in the group ARE strong.  It’s an absolute privilege to run with them.  Sarah has been with the group a few times, as her weekends are full and she’s not always around.  Shari travels so much that it’s always a treat to run with her when she’s in town.  Siga started running with us a few months ago after a several year hiatus.  Juli has ten years worth of racing under her belt, including Ironman.  Kathy is the glue that binds us together, suggesting runs even when she’s going to be out of town.  Elizabeth is stronger than she knows and has an uncanny knack for bringing humor and a fresh perspective every week.  Jacqueline keeps us on our toes, calling back to her to “watch out for the rock” or “pick up your feet, Jacq!”  She sports more band-aids than any adult I know.  Susan is a veritable workhorse, and can power up a hill like nobody’s business.  Heidi hasn’t been with us for a few weeks because she’s training for her next half-Ironman.  Her husband introduced himself to the group at a coffee shop one morning, and asked if she could come along.  She was new to the area and didn’t know any runners yet.

And yet, with all that strength and absolute stamina, there is no ego.  We don’t race each other on Saturdays and there’s no “pecking order”.  I’ve run and talked with everyone over the months, and run every position in the group.  Sometimes people are intimidated to run with us; I know I was when I first started.  But here’s the thing; no one gets left behind and it’s because no one is here to prove themselves.  We’re all out there running because we want to be together and there’s coffee afterward, which means more time for talking.

I look forward to these runs all week long.  If I don’t run on Saturday my entire weekend feels wonky.  The exercise is great, but there’s more; Saturday mornings are about absolute acceptance and non-judgment.  I can show up to a run and be mostly silent, stewing in my own thoughts.  I can be hyper and strong, or slow and steady.  I could be recovering from an injury or illness (like last week) and hear someone say “Hey, I’m so glad you’re back, are you feeling better?  I really missed you!”  I could have the world’s worst stink to me and still have a running partner.  Each of us carries emotional pieces of the other, snippets that have been shared over the miles and weeks and seasons we’ve been together.  Saturday morning is bonding, perspiration, a total lack of masking.

I love each and every woman that I run with.  I could write an entry about all of them, about the amazing character, strength, and utter beauty each of them carries.  I absolutely draw strength from the group, from the energy that the women weave when they’re together.  I am honored to be a part of this group that meets at 7 AM on a different trail each week, and I am thrilled to know that other women in the group are just as awed by the magic we create when we’re together.  So, to all you amazing women I run with; thank you.

It’s twenty degrees in the pre-dawn light. I braid my hair and don my Smart Wool hat and gloves, along with two shirt layers and my pink Go-Lite jacket. The running tights aren’t lined, which is a sad thing for my legs.
I lost count of how many people are supposed to be running today. The running list has added a few people recently and it seems old members who haven’t run in months or even years are coming out of the woodwork.
The morning is cold, very cold. Twelve of us are in the parking lot, ready to go. As Susan, Bernadette and I set out in the front of the pack, I see Greta waiting for us at the end of the shoot that opens onto Valmont Road. She’s already run four miles just to get here, and will join the group for her return home again.
The past few weeks have seen a decline in my running, swimming, and cycling. I’m in the midst of a job search and trying to put my finger on exactly what I want to do. Connor started morning kindergarten this year and goes to K-Care two days a week. Therefore, I have two full days to myself (8:30-3:00), and three half days. I need a part-time job but have flirted with the idea of a full forty hours per week. Not that I really want to work that much, but health insurance and retirement benefits count for a lot, especially since my husband is self-employed and we pay through the nose for our health care and retirement. If I got a full-time job though, I would have to find care for Connor when he’s not in school and I’m not around to watch him. He’s been having a hard time lately and has been really sensitive about changes in routines. All this has compounded in my head and heart to create feeling of depression and anxiety. I need this run for so many reasons.
I’m noticing that the more stressed I get, the slower I run. It’s harder for me to find the motivation for movement; when I do manage a few miles in the morning, my muscles are tight and sore. I don’t feel refreshed after a run lately and in fact, I feel depleted. It was hard for me to get up this morning. I wonder if I’ll feel depleted or refreshed after this morning’s eight miler. Here’s hoping it’s the latter.
I steel myself for the bitter cold in the valley. It’s so chilly here, about ten degrees colder than the rest of the run. There’s a mid-sized creek that contributes to the moisture. Now that the foliage has left the branches it’s easy to see the source of my discomfort.
The gloves are no match for the bitter cold. I open and shut my fingers periodically to remind myself they are attached to my hands. The motion does nothing to warm my extremities and I’m resigned to the fact that it’s going to take a good two miles before I’m warm. The trail is a steady uphill from the starting point, so early on my heart rate is elevated and blood is trying to slosh into the cold points of my body.
As we come around a curve Greta and I see a beautiful buck and his harem standing stock still to our right. Karley and Sam are chatting amiably behind us; to point them out I start gesturing with my arm, pointing straight at them and commenting. After a slight delay they pick up the cues and notice the regal animals. The buck is a six-pointer and elegant in his stance. After the group has passed the deer take their exit and easily bound over the six foot fence. The buck is the last to make the crossing, preferring instead to watch for danger from the two legged females making their way up the hill.
At the top of the hill I stop to take off a layer and stretch my right glut. We’re going to wind around the hill and take a breather before heading back to the trailhead. As Susan and Karley point out, the route adds on five minutes at the most. The easy run and the scenery are a nice way to bring the heart rate back to a moderate zone before kicking it in for the last of the hills.
Our group is stretched out over a mile. The ones in front are easily holding their positions, and the ones in back are enjoying not being rushed. That’s the beauty of a large group like this; there can be so many different levels of fitness and speed, and no one feels bad about where they’re at. Susan, Bernadette and I are usually in the front, though we’ve also held space in the back from time to time. Jaime is coming back from having her third baby; years ago, she was at the front of the group and is now easily pacing at the back. The point is that she’s here, running outside in the early dawn light, enjoying the inherent abilities of her body and getting some socialization in on the side.

Back in the parking lot I stretch my hamstrings and blissfully enjoy my endorphins. They haven’t managed to create the “runner’s high” that I love so much, but I do enjoy the effort they’ve made in allowing my brain some semblance of relaxation. Now, on to coffee and the rest of the day.