January 28, 2012

Love Note on Whiterock

Today was a love note from the Universe.

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.

Filed Under: Trails, Training, Winter 2012 Tagged: , , , ,
February 4, 2011

Winter’s Thaw

It’s a beautiful, warm, balmy 40 degrees today.  Snow is melting and there’s a comforting drip, drip of water falling from the eaves.  The clouds are high, and there’s even a hint of shadows creeping along the lawn as the grey clouds burn off.  I made granola this morning, so the house smells of warm oatmeal, cinnamon and vanilla.

I’m in a gardening sort of mood.  It’s been super-cold this week with temps below zero for several days, but I’m already envisioning my spring garden.  I’ve created an Excel spreadsheet detailing the veggies that will go in, different varieties of tomatoes, cucumbers and pumpkins, and when I’ll need to get seedlings started indoors under the grow light.

Kirby and I just went outside to bury a load of kitchen compost in the garden.  I have a 6’x50’ long bed on the south side of the house that I’ve been building for about three years now.  Each year the harvest is slightly better than the year before, due to the soil amendments I add.  This winter I’m trying something new; I filled or collected black trash bags full of leaves from my yard (or neighbors yards), added water to the bags, and laid them out in two even rows over the garden.  I’m making leaf mold to add to the garden in spring, which will act as a soil conditioner when I till it into the soil.  Leaf mold doesn’t add to the fertility of the soil, so I still need to add compost.

There’s one section of the garden that has petulantly decided to not support life of any kind, and I’m fighting back.  The soil is clay and refuses to hold nutrients or water, so I’ve launched a calculated attack on the barren soil into a warm, nurturing vessel that supports life.  Then, in a few months I’ll impregnate the garden with seeds of all kinds…. Does this mean I’m God, working in my own little Garden of Eden?  Hehe…

I’m thinking about making a hoop house for my garden, so that I can get seeds in early without them freezing.  YouTube has some great videos showing Do-It-Yourself, cheap and easy methods for making your own little garden nirvana.  It looks like materials might run me about $20, so I’m seriously considering it as a weekend project tomorrow when the weather is even warmer.  In a hoop house or cold frame, leafy greens can be grown even in these temps!  Imagine, picking my own spinach, lettuce or kale in March… yummmmmm….

It’s so good to be outside again after the cold weather this week, I didn’t want to come back inside.  It feels like the earth is giving one huge sigh of relief after the frozen temps brought everyone to a standstill.  I even saw robins this morning, chirping their little song and preening in the early morning light.  I know it’s not Spring yet, but this is a welcome reprieve.

It’s been three weeks since I last ran, and I finally have the “go-ahead” to try again tomorrow.  I’m going to do an easy 6 miles Bobolink, then talk to my PT and see what he recommends from there based on how the leg feels.  It’s funny; after the marathon in December I didn’t want to slow down; I couldn’t, because it was so counter-intuitive.  I fought against a slower pace and probably hurt myself because of it.  But now, with the brutal cold temps, it’s easy to be inside and quiet.  There’s no urgency to get outside to move fast, because the entire world has entered the deep sleep of winter.

Filed Under: Winter 2010 Tagged: , ,
January 5, 2011

Running Home

Chiropractor on Monday; check.

Massage on Tuesday; check.

Stellar run on Wednesday; check.

Could it be that my body is finally back in balance?  Is it possible that the plantar fasciitis, knotty hamstring and aching calves are resolving themselves?  Can I dare to hope that running will FINALLY be enjoyable again?

If today’s run was any indication, the answer to all three questions is a resounding YES.  There was a small 4-mile recovery run on the schedule for today, but I was itching to go.  Let me loose, I want to run!  I was 80% tempted to turn today’s run into a barn-burning tempo run and hold pace at 7:15-7:30.  I resisted.

Instead, I allowed myself to hit a moderate tempo pace, more of what my Marathon Pace should have been: 8:26/mile.  It’s one month to the day after my first marathon and I have done zero speed work.  It’s coming though; I have a whole 12-week program set to get me to a new P.R. in the Half Marathon distance on March 27.  This is week 1 of training and I’ll get to the speed work in due time; namely, on Tuesday.  But today… oh glorious day, what a run.

It was a full 30 degrees warmer today than it was at the same time yesterday morning when I met Dailymiler’s David and Leo at the Boulder Reservoir for a quick 6-miler.  Yesterday it was 5 degrees outside and the front of our hats were covered in frost after 2 minutes.  A few minutes later they laughed at the frost that turns my black eyebrows into fuzzy white caterpillars that perch on my face.  Fast-forward 24 hours to today, when it was a balmy 35 degrees outside and I didn’t even wear gloves!

I stuck to the concrete bike path that loops through the subdivisions of Louisville.  The streets are still icy in places, but the paths are completely clear due to the heavy usage they get from walkers, runners, bicyclists, strollers and dogs.   The little Bobcat snowplows are usually clearing the paths before the street snowplows have a chance to come through and dig us out… tells you a lot about the active lifestyle of the area.

I’ve had the idea for a week now that if I work at it, I could possibly hit a 1:35 Half Marathon.  That’s about 7:15/mile.  My current PR is 1:42 (7:44/mile).  Coming off a marathon and utilizing the base that I gained over the past 5 months, I think it just might be possible to do it.  Maybe.

But that’s neither here nor there; not today.  Today was a welcome relief from the single-digit temps of the past week, and I felt like nature was goosing my butt.  Jumping up and down, jiggling with excitement and readiness as I waited for the Garmin to sync, and then GO.  But not too fast.  This wasn’t a race.

Exiting the path to the street where I had to cross over, I slowed to a walk and eased my way across the ice before resuming my running pace on the path.  That first patch of ice clinched the route in my mind; I would do an out-and-back on the path and not the full 4.5-mile loop that winds through graveled patches.  The concrete would be clear; the gravel would not.  Since I was hell-bent on hitting a tempo pace I wasn’t about ready to slow down for half-mile chunks of snow and ice.

The first mile zoomed by at a moderate warm-up pace, and I got a mental laugh at the mile split: 8:44.  That was the average pace of my marathon.  No wonder it felt comfortable!

I picked up the pace a hair, then adjusted again a minute later when I saw that I had kicked it up too much; 8:10/mile was too fast.  Keep it steady, Lara.  Rein it in.  “On your left,” I called out to two women and their leashed dogs.  A minute later I called out again to a trio of dog walkers.  The cute dogs looked so happy to be out that I had a pang of guilt thinking about my own sweet Kirby, snoozing on the warm carpet at home… then I let it go.  This was MY run.

The Garmin beeped at Mile 2: 8:34/mile.  I did a quick internal check; breath was good, feet felt FABULOUS, hammies were firing… all was well.  Time to turn around and head home.

The pace felt so easy.  I could hold this pace for several hours at least.  This was the pace I was trying to hit a month ago at CIM in Sacramento, and missed by a hair.  Now it felt like a joy ride, like a breath of fresh air on lungs that hadn’t had a deep breath in far too long.  Home.  I was home again.

Mile 3: 8:25/mile.  I was dropping just a hair, but not enough to worry about.  Things were still steady.  I crossed Pine Street and headed up the slight incline.  Leo has a habit of really kicking in the speed on hills, and I took a page from his book and didn’t let my pace slip.  My torso leaned forward ever so slightly to lean into the hill and I fixed my attention on my feet to feel how they adjusted to the hill.  I was running more on the ball of my foot now; good.  That’s how it’s supposed to be.

At the end of the path I crossed the last street and looked at the Garmin.  Mile 4: 8:30/mile.  Then I hit the last downhill section.  My entire body screamed to pick up the pace and when there’s that much agreement you just have to do it and not think about it and just RUN, and I flew home, dropping a full minute off my pace for the last .4 mile of the run.  Fly, Lara, fly.  You’re home.

Filed Under: Training, Winter 2010 Tagged: , , ,
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