Tired Mama Running

New Shoes: The Weekend Wrap-Up

2012-02-13T09:18:00.010-07:00

Hey, I put some new shoes on, and suddenly everything's right.

The improbably long 2011-2012 Cheap and Free Race Tour continued this weekend with something I've only run once: the Valentines Massacre 3-mile beverage prediction run. Yes, I know that's a lot of curious information in the title. The race, which used to be a proper 5K, as I learned from the race director, was shortened to 3 miles about twenty years ago when a bridge that used to be over the river, and access to it, went away. This is one of two prediction runs locally, and the winners are not the fastest, but those whose actual times are closest to predicted race times. The entry fee is not monetary; it is two beverages-any kind-of each runner's choosing. When the race is over, our trusty race director tabulates results, and then sends winning runners to the drink table for the redistribution of beverages, letting each good guesser know how many they're allowed to pick up.

The only other time I ran this thing, it was with my oldest daughter who was then about nine years old, and it was together at her pace in the "sweetheart," two-person team division. An instant distance PR is always a winning deal, so I figured, hey, let's predict away. I'd had some tenderness and twingy pain in my right ankle, though, since Tuesday evening, and after several days off, I could still feel it when I tried warming up. I can really close to logging a DNS, which would have been no big deal, but thankfully, the ankle and foot started to loosen up and not hurt after some more gentle jogs up and down the hill in the starting area. I initially predicted 22:00 because I felt a little tired, and also didn't want to run that ankle into the ground. I decided to be both optimistic and less exact in my prediction, though, and erased it in favor of 21:53 a few minutes later. As race time approached, it seemed like a pretty strong turnout for a low key club run. You would never know it was February in Colorado; although we live in the warmest part of the state, being this comfortable in shorts was still rather unusual.

We gathered behind a flour line at the bottom of the road, and I hoped I'd be able to run without getting lost on the unmarked course. It was fairly straightforward but there were a few neighborhoods and sidestreets where one could take a wrong turn. We took off, and I could already tell it wasn't going to be a banner racing day. I resolved to give it my best but wasn't feeling any pixie dust. On better days I'd be able to hang with some of the fastest runners for a bit, but I had no kick today. When I reached the top of the first hill and turned downhill, I took a long look down the road once and could see how far ahead the one sponsored triathlete guy in the race was; it was now time to run in my own space, and focus immediately ahead of me.

Pretty soon, I heard one runner, and then another, easing up behind me, then next to me, then move slightly ahead. It was Andy, and Larry. Larry hosts the turkey prediction run, as well as the Tortoise and Hare relay, a race with the unique and fun format of pairing fastest runners with those who spend the most time "enjoying the course." It makes for a competitive race, and again, it's another El Cheapo run. I was feeling very un-awesome but this fired the competitive engines. I kept them in my sights as we ran down the neighborhood streets, briefly turned onto Monument Road, and then climbed back to loop through the neighborhood toward the finish. I had that moment of "why the hell do I run these short distance things? These HURT!" and then got over myself.

We turned uphill and then the downhill stretch to the finish was upon us. Larry and Andy had strung out a little ahead of me through the neighborhood but I'd made up some ground near the end of the race. Hammering down the hill, I tried to catch them, but it wasn't quite enough. After taking a moment to get my breath back, I checked my time. 22:10. With my most recent two 5Ks going sub-22, I was a little bummed about the weak showing today, but I knew I wasn't feeling awesome, and wasn't out to bust up my ankle today either. I did the usual rounds of visiting with everyone post race, and got treated to the sight of a bald eagle hovering over the river in the distance. He made an appearance several times; everyone agreed this was some kind of good mojo.

I chatted with Ben, one of the regulars on the weekend long run crew, and I said I thought I would be okay on the tender ankle for some short and easy trail running in the two to three hours tops range. I knew Sandra would be good for it as well, and did need to get in a little something before next weekend's RedHot. We convened the next morning, and along with Leila the Eyeball Sniffing Wonderdog, headed out to the trails near Loma and Mack to seal the tapering deal. We got our run mojo on with some gangster rap, and the first few songs from my Beer Songs CD. It's been determined that most of this pre-run ride is filled with stuff that is amusing only to those in the car, with prior drive activities including a five letter F word round-robin spelloff, and Zamfir, Master of The Pan Flute, on tape. I hope this revelation doesn't trigger a request for an intervention or psychiatric evaluation from any friends or family.

When we got to the trails, we decided to do a Mary's Loop/Horsethief Bench combo run. We didn't want to do a ton of climbing the week before the race, and I thought Horsethief was a very pretty meander the week prior. I had some new shoes on; the Newton trail runners my friend Elizabeth recently purchased and let me try on. I scored a killer combination of discounts with Roadrunner Sports, and was excited to try out the shoes today. I love the INOV8's I've been training in, but wanted to get something a bit more supportive for the long course. I've had great luck with my Newton road shoes, so this was fun to get out there and text them.

I felt a little sluggish to start, but we still seemed to be moving along at a decent clip as we headed east on Mary's Loop, and then took the rocky drop down to Horsethief Bench. I'd brought along my little iPod for a change, and thought I'd shoot some short clips of us acting stupid here and there. This was our own personal "S#it Ultrarunners Say."

Continuing down the trail as it curved toward the river, we had our first animal encounter of the day. There were several cows walking right up the trail in our general direction.

Around every turn, there were more of these big guys, and we weren't sure the best plan of action at first. I know what to do if I encounter a mountain lion, but wasn't really sure the right-of-way protocol with massive cows. We decided a bushwhack along the right side of the trail was as good a plan as any, and with that, the stalled line of cows started doing the same thing on the other side of the trail.

We thought they'd all passed, but looking up a narrow, steep, climb with nowhere to bushwack, we saw another cow staring down at us. Not wanting to get into a head-to-head with one of these guys, we turned off and headed all the way down to the river for a little snack and chill break, hopefully giving enough time for the cattle train to move past. It was a good thing; we otherwise wouldn't have gone down for playtime along the banks of the river.

We hung out down there until we started to chill, and figured the cattle had been given plenty of time to pass, and came back up to finish running Horsethief Bench, and back up and out for the rest of Mary's Loop. By now, I was hitting that "just warmed up" point. Another from the s#it ultrarunners say video. Then we began the new post-run tradition of honey dates, oranges, and coconut water. The last long run before the RedHot was history; the hay was in the barn, and all of that jive people say in the taper. My ankle was a little twingy to start, but again loosened up as it did the day before. My shoes met expectations as well, which thrilled me. I was worried they might be slippery, like my road Newtons get in the snow and ice and slop, but they gripped just fine, and had that little bit of extra cushioning I want for the long run.

With six days until THE big day, I am not setting a time goal. The plan is to take it day to day with the ankle, REST it, as I am doing today, bailing from running and yoga, and see how it feels on Saturday. Truthfully, I will be a little bummed if I can't race the way I'd planned this whole training cycle. There's none of the Imogene Pass Run continuous steep climb at the RedHot, and with all the trail time I've put in, I know there will be sections I should be able to cruise, unlike last year when it was a first-time ultra experience, and less of the training had been on trails. It is what it is, though. If the run needs to be a scenic video hike to prevent an ankle blowout, that's the best way to spend my day rather than being pissed off and trying to force the body to do things it shouldn't be doing. I'm hoping, though, that the patented Extreme Taper™ does its thing, allowing the ankle to get 100% happy just in time for race day, benefits of training fully absorbed and ready to be cashed out on the trails above Moab, Utah.

Don't Forget To Breathe

2012-02-08T09:40:00.002-07:00

So don't forget to breathe

Don't forget to breathe

Your whole life is here

No eleventh hour reprieve

So don't forget to breathe

Keep your head above water

But don't forget to breathe

This might be my favorite song I've heard played in the background at yoga. It's understated, melodic, and simple, but a damn good reminder about the simple things we tend to overlook. I had it on repeat in my brain a few weeks ago when I headed out on that group 25-mile run, and it got me through when I got fatigued.

This entry finds me about ten days away from my second ultramarathon. While most of the small handful of people who stop by this blog know what that means, I'd like to explain to those who just stumbled upon this blog, or pop in out of curiosity. Anything over the standard marathon distance of 26.2 miles is considered an ultra, though the standard "entry level" ultra distance is the 50K. What's amusing is that you'll often hear people griping at road races when a GPS watch measures slightly long or short on a course. In ultrarunning, the distance is often "ballpark" to the extreme, with my first 50-miler in April actually covering roughly 52 miles of trails. With that in mind, it is not unusual for those training for ultras to run for time rather than distance.

My plan all week was to run a 6-hour run on Saturday, but I was a little nervous since Ben, Sandra and I were so beat on the previous Sunday following the Great American Beer Run. I have been diligent about listening to my body since my epic meltdown a few weeks ago at a low point for fatigue and stress, and it's been a wise move. I don't give myself a free pass on days off, but truly take it day-to-day with how I'm feeling, and considering the positive implications to a strategically timed day off or schedule flip/flop. My week started with the new "Monday Special," a double-up on Serpents Trail with my friend Randee. Rather than taking both repeats on Serpents Trail, we did something I ran a few times last fall before the Rim Rock Marathon, running up-down-up on Serpents, and then hopping off onto the road, Rim Rock Drive, for a fun, fast change of pace. I don't find Serpents Trail to be boring, but the change of pace, footing, and scenery made for a nice workout. The coming days brought a standard early run with Laura, one of my other regular running partners, a track practice, where I got to lead again and add my own stamp to the workout, and two yoga classes. I took a rest day on Friday to do as much in my power as possible to ensure I'd be ready for my longest training run ever. I was all set for a great run Saturday.

And then, the call came in regarding my new baby nephew in the early afternoon. My brother and sister-in-law had planned a home birth for their first child, a son to be named Story, inspired by astronaut Story Musgrave. His breech positioning meant a hospital delivery, something I knew they were not wild about, but I knew that sooner or later, I'd hear the great news about my first nephew from my side of the family. I was a little concerned as the morning went on and I hadn't heard anything from family. I tried telling myself that they were likely too busy to call, but I knew this was unusual to not hear anything from my Dad, who my brother would likely call early to disseminate information to the family. When I finally got word about the birth early afternoon on Friday, I could tell in my Dad's tone that all was not sunny and perfect. Story had been born with problems of an unknown nature, and was on his way to another hospital. I felt so helpless being several states away, and overcome with a mix of emotion.

After the initial shock, I tried to turn my energy into anything positive that could be redirected toward Story, asking friends to keep him in mind, pray, or do whatever they do whenever there's someone who needs help. My friend Elizabeth had been providing some comic relief via text throughout the day; she asked later in the afternoon if I wanted to stop by for hanging out, and a cocktail, in the early evening. I first met up briefly with a friend I don't get to see very often, which was great. I meandered over to Elizabeth's awhile later, and she made me some tasty, marshmallow vodka infused treat that probably wasn't ideal for the day before a very long run, but was nice to have while we unwound on a Friday. We re-watched our local club "Running In The New Year" video, laughing at various jackassery at the races and while training, and smiling at other fun and success over the prior year. I guzzled some extra water when I got home, and went to bed.

The next day, it appeared to be an ideal weather day as I started puttering around, drinking my coffee and making my new standard super-long run early breakfast of eggs, salsa and cheese on a tortilla. As a new runner, the idea of eating before a long run turned my stomach; I just couldn't do it. I eventually learned to eat things like bagels early on, but never did much more than that. Getting in to longer training runs, I've learned that I do become famished about four hours into a trail run without a substantial morning meal. This breakfast seems to be working for me thus far, as long as it's done about three hours prior to the run.

Sandra came over to pick me up, and we headed out to the Kokopelli Trail system, near Loma and Mack, Colorado, close to the Colorado/Utah border. We were meeting Kirk, a guy who would never tell you what he's done as a runner, but is easily the most experienced guy in our neck of the woods, with 17 Leadville Trail 100 finishes, 17 Hardrock 100 finishes, and a win at each race. In an area with lots of uber-chill trail runner dudes and dudettes, Kirk might be the chillest of them all. He also knows the trails well, and when I said we wanted to just find a route that would keep us running for six hours, he suggested what he calls the "Olympic Route." It's basically the "everything" route that covers all the trails. We set out, and got on our way. I'd left my borrowed Garmin at home, and this made me happy...I knew it wasn't good to obsess about how long into the run I was, but I thought I'd bring it along just to check. Knowing that wasn't an option kind of freed me up to run in the moment, just breathe, and put one leg in front of the other.

The whole rest of the state was getting heavy snow on this Saturday, but in Western Colorado, we could see nothing but wide-open blue skies. The route we take begins with a climb that's not steep, but pretty steady. While this was really tough the week prior, it felt okay today. Good, I thought. I had already begun to pick Kirk's brain about his past running and racing experiences, because here's the deal....I'm beginning to think about considering a run at the Leadville Trail 100. I don't know if I will ultimately sign up in another year or two, but with the wealth of experience and information available in this running community, I have been asking as many questions as possible of the runners who have done it, and the support crews who have been there for the race. The snow underfoot in the shade wasn't bad, and once we hit the sunny spots, it was pretty much bone-dry.

We meandered along for about an hour, and happened upon Greg, whom I'd paced with for most of the GABR the previous weekend. After chatting for a few minutes, he said he'd tuck in and run with us if we didn't mind. The more, the merrier, we said, and off we went again. About half an hour later, we happened upon a huge cow in the middle of the trail. I stopped, and as we all stopped, I looked to the right and saw there was a herd of cattle right there. We were able to get on our way soon, and continued on, making our way toward Horsethief Canyon. I'd never run this gorgeous stretch of trail, and kind of questioned why....other than the fact that I don't like to do stuff out there on my own when I don't know where exactly I'm going.

As the trail meandered along, it brought us closer to the river than I'd ever come while running these trail systems. The sun was shining, and I couldn't hear anything other than our footsteps, and the occasional conversation we'd have while running. Stopping for a snack/hydration/refueling break, we saw Tom Ela and his small posse of mountain biking buddies. When we got going again, we stepped through probably the most slippery part of the trail, a steep downhill section where the sun did not shine, ice coating all the rocks. After a short uphill climb, we were back on our way. Finishing the loop, we climbed up and continued on our way toward Mary's Loop, Steve's Loop, and the other connectors that would complete the "Olympic Loop." I asked Kirk about his trekking pole, which I've always seen him use in races and runs, and decided this might be a worthy investment for me, especially with the longer runs these days, and my ankle that's healed but always going to be prone to re-injury since I did so much damage.

All the while, I found myself still feeling good, and was a little surprised, given that the news about my nephew the day before had been pretty upsetting. This may sound stupid, but I found myself running with the intent to generate good energy for Story, my brother, and my sister-in-law. I could feel that I was doing it, and it made it easy to continue plugging away, business as usual. Greg eventually peeled off and headed back, calling it good at four hours or so. We kept moving along at a very even pace, slightly spread out, but consistently hitting stopping points with no more than a minute or two between us. Any moments of frustration or fatigue were brief and fleeting; even the return trip to the car to collect more water was only a momentary mental barrier. It was hard to get moving again for the first few minutes, but soon the stopping point was a distant memory, and it was as if we'd been plugging away forever on a point-to-point route.

Continuing around the loops, and on to Mack Ridge, it seemed unfathomable that I couldn't run for more than 30 seconds in 2007. I didn't understand back then how people enjoyed running, or how they ran a mile, let alone long distances. As the sun shone down on us, and we worked our way up muddy hills, beginning to tire but continuing on, I really got it. This run was something I'd been working up to, little by little, breathing, putting one foot in front of the other, running in the moment, and gradually increasing my distance. Every challenging run we'd each finished, every drop of sweat, every sore muscle....each was a deposit in the bank to get to this point. We stopped about two miles before the end of our loop to enjoy a truly spectacular 360 degree view, looking down to the trails we'd run earlier, over toward Rabbit Valley and Utah, around to the Bookcliffs, around more to Mt. Garfield, the Grand Mesa, the Colorado National Monument, and finally back where we'd started, looking over the cliff at the trails. I loved being here now, in this sensory overload, covered in salty sweat, and hearing not much more than my own breath.

Finishing the route, Sandra, Kirk and I said our fare-thee-wells, with Kirk wishing Sandra good luck and an enjoyable experience at her first ultra. In our final miles, we'd been talking about beer, and Sandra and I decided the best place for a refreshing adult beverage post-run would be the Hot Tomato, where we'd finished our race the prior week. They are muddy-trail-runner and mountain biker-friendly, and were on the way. It was a great call; we had a tasty beer, and mouthwateringly salty stromboli. We were also tipped off by Sharon, another runner and Hot Tomato regular, that my friends at the Moab Half Marathon have a brand-new race. I've always wanted to do a women-only race, but frankly have not been keen on doing ones that are corporate chain races, or with names like "Diva," no offense to those who run them. The First Annual Thelma And Louise Half Marathon will be held in May, and it's on a day when I am already double-booked with kid activities. Still, I wouldn't dream of missing this, and think I will plan on a quickie trip early in the morning, departing right after the race ends. I don't ever remember feeling this awake, and I've had it up to my ass with sedate.

How Bizarre, How Bizarre: The Great American Beer Run 15K

2012-01-30T13:27:00.008-07:00

Blog title courtesy of the pre-long run DJ stylings of Ben H. You can send me a cut when your DJ business takes off, man.

I'd been looking forward to last weekend's race for weeks. The Great American Beer Run, or GABR in its short form, is an event put on by Jeff Recker, a local runner and triathlete whose voice you may have heard at the finish of the Canyonlands Half Marathon, where he does finish line commentary. The original race was a half marathon. After a several year break, Jeff decided to revive it as a 15K, beginning out in the desert outside of Fruita, Colorado, and ending at the Hot Tomato Cafe. It was originally supposed to end at the new Suds Brewpub, but with the restaurant not open for business, the location was switched to the pizza place right around the corner. This run had a lot of things going for it; no entry fee, no crowd, beer at the finish, and really, most exciting to me, a distance I'd never raced before. The course was also similar to the Canyonlands Half, making it a nice early season tuneup opportunity.

Sandra showed up at my place and we carpooled out to the Hot Tomato at 9am. When we arrived, there was a small group of regulars signing in. Race Director Jeff, and course director/photographer dude Ray were wearing sweet shirts with a very bosomy St. Pauli girl reading "The Great American Beer Run-Where Dreams Come True." Everyone signed in and visited with one another, and then cars were loaded for the start. Pre-race directions included "turn left at the dead coyote" and "don't worry, if you take a wrong turn, everything in Fruita is a square and the distance will be the same anyway." Once we made it to the start, Jeff thanked us for showing up on this "dead weekend" before the Super Bowl with no races on the schedule, and then had us recite a Beer Pledge of Allegiance. A few moments later, we were started, and headed off down the road.

The borrowed, frequently malfunctioning Garmin was on my wrist again today, and I was pleasantly surprised that it was functional. I didn't look at it, though, after my first check to make sure it had started without pulling up some graph or chart. Kevin, the RD from Bangs Canyon and track night regular, shot off like a bullet, with Ben not far behind, along with a few other guys from the local triathlon club. Quinn, another track group newcomer, was a bit ahead of me as well. I tried to settle into my pace and see how I felt, and how hard I thought I could push today. The downhill start and incredibly fast pace by the men up front, though, had that natural effect of drawing out those of us right behind them. I didn't feel bad so I just went with gravity on the rocky dirt road. I looked down at the beep at the end of mile 1, finished in 7:09.

Somewhere near the end of that first mile, I gently eased past Richie and Kevin from the triathlon club, and Quinn. They all looked strong, thought momentarily about staying back and whether I might be starting too aggressively. Instead, I just went for it. I didn't feel bad and I was operating on the premise that I should run how I felt, and really push since this wasn't a goal race and there was nothing at stake today other than a beer song mix CD. I really wanted that CD, though, and a good PR for the distance, so I opted to push. My second mile split came in exactly the same as the first at 7:09.

We'd hit regular paved road now, and also flattened out. My next few splits were indicative of that, with a 7:17 for mile 3 and 7:23 for mile 4. Somewhere in this stretch, I reached Greg. I wasn't sure if I could hold onto his pace because he usually beats me, but I still wasn't feeling awful. I thought about the various things we've worked on at track, like a high cadence, short stride and good form. I did feel like I was walking that edge, and had maybe started too fast, so coming back to basics really helped to settle me down and avoid heading in the blowup direction. Greg and I agreed it would be good to pace together and pushed on down the road. This is when that four-letter W word appeared-wind. We ran toward the big hill on the course and it really picked up. Most of the drivers on this country road slid over a bit, or moved all the way over into the other lane. Approaching the hill, we had one driver of a big truck give us NO room at all, and appear to even creep closer to us. It was close enough to scare me a bit, running on the edge of the road and not anywhere near getting in his way in the lane.

Tucking my head down up the hill, it was almost a relief to have a change in the flat terrain. I slowed in the wind but it didn't suck altogether. The short, relaxed stride was getting me up the hill, though more slowly than I'd have liked. Approaching the top of the hill, Ray was there rocking the tunes from his truck, and taking pictures. When another truck came flying over the hill ahead of us, Ray gave the guy a very clear "slow down" hand motion, a deed that did not go unnoticed. 99% of the drivers were sharing the road with us, but all it takes is one to change lives forever. Finally cresting the hill and coming down, I regrouped and tried to take advantage of gravity. Mile 5 was over in 8:22. Quite a dropoff from the first four miles, but I felt good to make it back up with the hill behind me.

Getting into the second half of the run, I realized that I'd probably taken the first few miles a little too fast. I did another assessment and knew my form was getting crummy, and refocused to the short strides and high cadence. Every time I thought I was going to drop off Greg's pace, I was able to settle down. I was tiring, though, and not sure how long I'd be able to hang with him. Miles six and seven came in at 7:32 and 7:27 respectively.

We began to see the beer arrow signs with more regularity now, and it was nice to be running with someone else so that we could confirm that we were, in fact, running the right way. Yeah, it shouldn't be hard to run a square course, but on racing brain, some simple things become incredibly hard. We'd turned left after heading straight south for some time, and there was a wicked crosswind that seemed more difficult to run through than the headwind we'd just experienced. Turning that corner, I could see that the tri-guys were about a minute back but didn't see anyone else. Greg and I hit the end of the road and got momentarily confused about the sign at the end of the road. It was on a left corner, which didn't seem like the way to go. As we got closer, we could see that it was pointing downhill/south/toward Fruita. Okay, phew. That made sense. Mile 8 was finished in 7:52. Yep, getting tired now on this new distance but not dead yet.

Now in the home stretch, Greg asked if I had any kick left. I said I wasn't sure. We turned left again down a neighborhood street, and then made another right. Again we found Ray directing traffic at the next big intersection like a pro. I booked it across the street, ready to be done, and get to that beer. Mile 9 was a slight negative split, finished in 7:44.

Greg was really dropping the hammer now and I pushed to stay with him. I could feel that I was accelerating, but he was stringing out just a bit ahead of me. As we ran down the last few blocks, I saw Jeff, and he was pulling something out. What is that....tape? My first time getting to break tape? I smiled when I saw that my first ever finisher tape to break was police tape saying "Do Not Cross." How apropos...I didn't get into running the traditional way, and this was a delightfully bizarre and nontraditional race. My last .5 mile (course was slightly long) was at a 7:22 pace, run in 3:40, with a total time of 1:11:35. Greg finished six seconds ahead of me, third overall male, and winner of a coveted beer songs CD. Kevin had won the race, and was the only runner to go under an hour, finishing in 56 minutes and change. Ben had finished second in about 1:01, I believe. Stoked kind of sums up how I felt about my first try at this distance. My hill climbing is still kind of crummy, and I need to work on that. My overall race experience was good, though. I listened to my body, but pushed beyond a safe, comfortable race effort.

I watched for others to come in, hanging out with the other finishers, and Sandra's husband Eric who had arrived to see her finish, and hang at the Hot Tomato post-race. She wound up with a top-10 finish in a field of non-beginner runners, continuing her steady progress since picking up the running thing a few years ago. Once most runners were in, we meandered inside. I changed my clothes and had a beer and a calzone. Once everyone was in, we had the awards ceremony. The top three men and women received Beer Song CD's, the hat was passed for the Three Sisters Land Purchase, a project to which donations were encouraged since there was no registration fee involved with this race. This was yet another cool thing about the race; the land purchase will connect all major trail areas in Grand Junction, allowing access that runners, hikers, and mountain bikers have never had before to get around the city. We also passed the hat for silly pictures. You have to act like a nut when wearing a hat like this after a race.

Yes, I will run for beer.

Jami and D

Quinn and Ben throwing the 2's, each second overall by gender

Randee showing off her door prize...a 6-pack shirt

I didn't catch this guy's name, but hey, BEER!

While this may have been a small race, it goes to show that there's a lot that goes in to putting on a good event when things flowed as well as they did at the GABR. We're kind of on an unprecedented run of freebie/cheapie local races lately, and this was yet another case to me to stick with more of these, and avoid the bigger races for the most part, other than my beloved Moab events.

The next day, I'd planned on 3-4 hours of trail running with Sandra, Ben, and Ben's eyeball sniffing, ADHD dog Leila. The mood was set with some awesome songs on the drive out to Loma and Mack with some Vanilla Ice, Michael Jackson, and the little earworm at the top of the blog, How Bizarre, a one-hit wonder by OMC. When we started running, it was obvious everyone was more sore and tired from the race the day before than expected. Still, we plugged away, going a little nutty quoting the latest in the "S#it _____ Say" Meme. I don't like all the videos out there, but this one was fairly spot-on in my short experience training for ultras. I don't need a toe sock for my junk, but can appreciate that sentiment.

We decided it might be better to take this as more of a cutback week, and do the "listen to your body" thing. None of us was feeling good for 4 hours of running, and it seemed like a better plan to make this day easier than planned with a peak weak for the RedHot the next weekend in mind. In the old days, I might have beaten myself up a little bit or considered it wimpy to do this. When I was able to get up today, though, and put in a quality run, I was convinced that this was the right thing to do. I'm excited about getting in good mileage this week, running a long time next Saturday, and then tapering off for another 34 mile adventure on the trails above Moab.

Round Up The Usual Suspects, & Ambi-Turning In The Desert

2012-01-24T12:30:00.007-07:00

I'm not sure I can get through writing this blog entry with Derek Zoolander giving me the Blue Steel look, but I will try my best.

This weekend brought the 30th annual Appleton Freezer 4-miler to the racing schedule. The Freezer is a small race, but one of the longest continuously occurring running events in Grand Junction. It's a no frills race without awards, medals, or prizes. What it does provide is an early season opportunity to check one's current running fitness for almost nothing, with a two dollar entry fee. The Freezer also has a history of drawing competitive runners-those who are competitive against others, and those who really like to push themselves and race for a PR. Every year, one can find pages and pages of fun stats, including best times by age, most Freezer runs by individual runners, and top-25 male and female times of all time. Suzie and I cracked into that list last year with our run-'til-you-puke push to the finish, ranking it as one of my favorite racing experiences ever between the competitive push and resulting race PR. The small field and hassle-free "registration" (you sign your name and age to a list, and throw two dollars in the cash box) make it a race I've made a point to do every year except one when I was a little under the weather.

After hitting a low point midweek with no energy and some terrible workouts, I stayed true to my plan to add some extra rest and regroup. I did absolutely nothing exercise-wise on Thursday, and tried to log extra time sleeping in since I wasn't getting up early to run on Thursday or Friday. On Friday, the weather was absolutely glorious, with temperatures in the 50's by midmorning. Normally, the day before a race-even something that isn't a big seasonal goal race-would be time I'd take to rest. I was very antsy to get in one good run, though, before the Freezer.

The Friday run was not what I'd have normally done, with a short, steep uphill bushwhack to an gently rolling trail, a session of throwing stones at the river halfway through, some sets of strides on the way back, and steep downhill bushwhack to finish. The warmth from the sun and unconventional run breathed new life into me, though. I knew that even if I didn't run a PR the next day, this run allowed me to hit the re-set button more than any amount of rest would've done that day. In the evening, I got to spend a little time hanging out with friends and being silly. By silly, maybe I mean stupid. I tried to do some yoga headstands and armstands and some point in the evening, going straight over one time. I rolled out decently, but in the morning, I thought, "maybe that wasn't such an awesome idea." The top of my head was sore, and I could feel in my arms that I'm kind of a weenie still when it comes to arm strength. I did my usual coffeeing up routine, and headed over to Appleton Elementary School.

Driving over, it was clear that it was not going to be bright and sunshiney like the day prior. It was overcast and misty; the temps had cooled considerably. As I got closer to the school, the skies opened up and it poured for a bit. We're spoiled around here with weather, so this was unusual. It was still raining when I reached the school, and I made my way indoors where everyone was hanging out. After signing in, I visited with all the usual suspects who routinely turn out for most of the Striders runs. Eventually, I could put off warming up no longer; though part of me wanted to chill inside and use the beginning of the race as a warmup, I just wasn't to that point of not caring about my race result. Warming up in the rain wound up being a good idea; I assessed that I was a little tired, but feeling decent given the low point I'd hit in the middle of the week. It was suggested that just playing with my pacing would be good based on how I was feeling, so I knew I would not go out like gangbusters like the year before. Today, I would look for an even effort and listen to my body throughout.

A few minutes later, we all gathered outside at the starting line. A few friends and relatives of runners were here in the rain, along with a reporter and photographer from the Daily Sentinel, our local paper. It was a little surprising and very cool to have them here for a funky club run, and the photographer said that these were his favorite events to cover. He asked if we were cool with his camera being on the ground at the start. Somebody made a crack about running him over, everyone laughed, and then we were off.

What was it I said about dialing back and running evenly? Oh, yeah. Forget it. The first handful of men shot out at a breakneck pace, and I was drawn out fast by default. Rather than dialing back, I just held that pace, shortened up my stride, and made myself stay focused on keeping the cadence high. Based on who had turned out, I thought that Elizabeth from the UK, AKA "English E" would be in the mix for top woman, and other club regulars like Ernie, and Marathon Maniac Bryan Baroffio, were surely nearby. I hit the one hill on this course, near the end of the first mile. All I could think was "Crap, my arms hurt! My head hurts! Why the hell was I doing yoga headstands last night?" On the upside, my legs weren't heavy and my breathing was about where it should be for a hard short distance effort. Good deal.

I finally made it up that first hill, and again assessed how I was feeling now that I could relax a bit more. I determined that I could and should push a little harder. If I blew up, this was only four miles. I wanted to be the first woman through and finish as high on the leaderboard as possible, and pushed to stay close to the man who was running slightly ahead of me. Mile two transitioned into mile three and I still felt like I could push more. Making another left turn on this square course, I was very conscious of my cadence, and I worked to up it here. I hadn't looked back at any point and wasn't sure where any of the other runners were, but assumed they were pushing as hard as I was. I cranked it up here, taking advantage of the flat course.

Heading into the fourth mile, it felt like someone was close behind. I wasn't sure who it was but I thought I could hear someone. Making the last left turn for home, I was sure that there was someone there. I didn't care if that person was male or female; I didn't want to get clipped. My arms were killing me; I thought about how absurd it was that this was my biggest distraction and body ache today. There was certainly someone very close behind me, and I poured all I had into breaking down the course, leaning slightly forward, and aiming for the next fence or telephone pole. I was extremely fatigued now but wasn't letting up; this felt amazing after the previous week. I could hear the footsteps really, REALLY close, though. Shit, whoever was back there was as determined as I to get to the finish line first. And now my arms really hurt-what a stupid thing to be hurting most right now.

As the finish line approached, though, I was able to hold off the mystery runner, coming through in a time of 28:42. As it turned out, the mystery runner was Bryan B, and he came in right behind me. Fully exhausted and out of breath, I felt empowered. My time was about a minute slower than the year before, but still the second fastest of my runs here. It wound up being great that yet again, my borrowed Garmin did something funky at the start and left me running with no concept of my pace or time; just how I felt. Bryan, who did have a functioning timepiece, told me he'd been catching up to me, and tried to catch me in the home stretch, but that I'd negative splitted the last mile. A pleasant surprise during a super-painful final mile.

I caught my breath a bit, and cheered runners as they trickled in one-by-one. Ernie, Tom, and "The Good Doctor" Andy came in next; Andy was ticked that he'd just overshot the 30 minute mark by a few seconds but looked strong coming in. I saw Elizabeth pushing in next and hollered at her to push push push to the finish. Runners continued to stream in, and once everyone was in, I headed inside for hot cider and a cookie. Another great perk at this event; homemade grub, and something to warm up the insides. The next day, a cool article with picture appeared in the Sentinel (my head, and orange shoe are hiding behind the stroller), with details on top performances, the weather, a little plug for our speed group, and the fun story of James, Laura, and their baby girl, whom they'd registered both years and now had two Appleton Freezers (riding in a stroller) under her belt. She'd screamed like crazy the year before; this time, she was chill, and passed out sleeping at the end.

The next day, a medium-long trail run was on the agenda. After the midweek breakdown blog, I had a few people say hey, yeah, you need to take it easy. I felt a little like a schmuck for getting anyone concerned about me, and knew they were right that I'd just get into a continuous cycle of being worn out if I didn't pay attention to my body. Four of us-me, Shannon, Sandra and Ben, started together, and Ben and doggie Leila headed back in after an hour with early afternoon plans. The three of us ladies continued on for another six miles or so, getting in about 2.5 hours and 12 miles through some snow, ice, and mud, but also nicely packed and dry trails.

With mojo somewhat restored, it was time to focus on another fortuitous opportunity I'd never have had if I hadn't laced up to start losing baby weight five years ago. Facebook has many, many pages and groups, and I'm on one called the Ultra Dogs, created by Mike, a friend and ultrarunner from nearby Olathe. I first saw this guy...I mean....his huge flowy mane of curly blond locks kept at bay with a headband...at the Rim Rock Marathon in 2010. He's a character with a lot of experience at running ultras, and I've enjoyed being in the group even though I've only run one ultra thus far. It's a great group in which to be a fly on the wall, and learn from the more experienced.

Anyway...one of the members is a local photographer named Robb Reece. He does all kinds of outdoor photography, and posted in the group that he needed some trail running "models" for an upcoming deadline. I expressed interest, not really thinking I'd get to do the shoot. As it turned out, I was not roundly rejected, and found myself scheduled to participate in a shoot out in the Rabbit Valley area near the Colorado/Utah border. I also chuckled when he said that "I just got a message from Marty-do you know him? He'll be there Monday too." Yeah, we're acquainted, I said. Robb had a second photographer, Ken, with him, and my friend Elizabeth (Kentucky Elizabeth) was also there. She snapped away on my camera, doing the whole "pictures of guys taking pictures" thing.

What I learned is that it's a LOT harder to hit your mark and look natural running than one might think. My old ankle injury left me a little tentative on some of the passes back and forth across the rocks, but I think I loosened up and started looking more natural near the end. I did take one slider off a slippery rock after changing into my bright orange road shoes, but didn't hurt myself. It was such a cool experience to be out there with light stands behind us, making quick wardrobe changes in the middle of nowhere, and getting to play on the rocks, snow and dirt. We were even paid for our time, and will get copies of a few of our better shots. It was wild to see how much goes in to getting a few good pictures, and how Robb and Ken rolled with the weather and lighting changes. Elizabeth got some pretty sweet pics, too, on my basic camera. It also took away my nervousness to have a buddy hanging back, smiling and enjoying the scene.

This first one is THE money shot by Elizabeth, snapped at just the right time and taking advantage of the professional photographers' lighting.

Near the end of the shoot

I almost went off a rock here
Bouncing down for a running pass. We did these over and over and over. Kind of a numbers game to do it enough times to get a few useful shots.

We did get to sneak peek a bit at what Robb and Ken had on their cameras, and man did those pictures look cool. It's amazing what the professionals know how to do, and I can't wait to see how the finished product(s) turn out. I'd definitely do this again in a heartbeat, but feel lucky to have gotten in on this even once.

In the meantime, I'm making a good effort to do that "listen to my body" thing. I'm taking a day off from running today in order to be decently rested for track this week. This weekend will bring another stop on my "2011-2012 Cheap Or Free Race Tour," and one I've been looking forward to for awhile. It's the Great American Beer Run, ("The GABR"). It may sound like it's all just fun and games, and I know it will indeed be fun. I do intend to find that balance, though, and let my competitive side come through during my first-ever opportunity to race 15K. It'll be an automatic distance PR, but I'll definitely by waiting until after the race to kick back and enjoy my tasty adult malt beverage.

Running On Empty

2012-01-19T13:04:00.004-07:00

I'd originally set out to post about the Olympic marathon trials, which were AMAZING, by the way, and more about the fantastic 5.5 hours and 25 miles of trails I did with a group last weekend. I'll likely mention it anyway in this blog, but the week really unfolded differently, and I feel like I need to be more true to reality instead of just focusing on the awesome that was last weekend.

I don't think that any of us who love to race and run come with personalities that tell us to sit back, relax, take that rest day, and all that good stuff. "Suck It Up, Buttercup" is a frequent mantra, and others in the vein of "What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger." For the record, I DO generally agree with that most of the time; we can do a lot more than what we limit ourselves to, and sometimes we do have to go too far to discover those things we're capable of doing. Some of my best runs and races have come on days when I just wanted to stay in bed, or when the first handful of miles didn't feel great. There are times, though, when running isn't the magical cure-all. Sometimes, rest is just the thing, even though it's hard as runners to admit that time off is just as crucial as the tempo runs, speed work and long runs.

My week started harmlessly enoough. My plate's been especially full lately; I wrote off not being able to double-up on local Serpents Trail on Monday as fatigue from a weekend with a very long trail run, yoga, and hike with 2000 foot elevation change. The next day, though, I just didn't have any mojo. There were outside reasons for this, but I've always been able to "just run" and block that stuff out physically and mentally. I canceled my early run, and figured that Wednesday track would be great. Wednesday wound up being many times worse than Tuesday. My body, heart, and mind were not in it for running, yoga or any other kind of moving around. Still, I told myself, suck it up. Don't be a pansy. I've always said "listen to your body" is a bunch of B.S., because often the body says "go eat some chocolate cake!" or "mmmm, wouldn't those french fries taste good right now?"

What followed shouldn't have been a surprise, but was totally discouraging nonetheless. I felt like I was moving through sludge on the warmup. This wasn't an epic pace; just waking up the body. The planned workout was different than what we've been doing, and was something I should have been able to hang on to easily; 800 meter repeats with 400 jogs between, done in groups of three with similarly-paced runners. I barely made it around one time, feeling like a brand new runner who was attempting to run a world record pace on the track. My back had been bothering me since Monday, and that was also wound up tighter than ever. It hurt, and everything was tight. I couldn't do it, and bowed out of it, walking it off a few laps. I was dejected but tried to tell myself hey, it's okay. Everyone has off days. I needed to go clean at the yoga studio where I work in trade, so I decided to leave early for the first time since we started this group, and head over to take the "playtime" class, and follow up with a cleaning. This is considered an advanced yoga class, and I am NOT an advanced yogi. Still, it's encouraged for all because of the fun and playful nature, and the chance to work on cool inversions, jumping into stuff, and basically just play around on the mat. I figured, hey, the body can't handle running tonight. It's cool. Yoga's what it needs tonight.

Yoga wound up being even worse than speed work. This was a totally fun class; something where I should have felt like a kid again, jumping, handstanding, and other cool things. I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep, though. By the time I finished, I think I'd spent close to half the time on the mat in child's pose, a restorative pose that one can assume if things are too tough or overwhelming. I rarely go into this in the regular, hotter classes, so it was a shock to me to feel this bad for the "playtime" class. As someone who always pushes through, and gets it done, I really felt like a failure for going 0 for 2 on attempts at physical activity that should have been no brainers.

What went wrong? Well, I guess I've just been lucky in being able to push through stuff....pain and fatigue, whether directly related to running, or not-but it finally caught up with me. My first instinct was to beat myself up about it. Recognizing this as not productive after doing a little bit of it, I worked to change the mindset. I started with settling down, getting showered, and laying in bed reading to relax until I fell asleep. I finally headed to the chiropractor this morning, and already feel more relaxed. He could have easily used a sledgehammer for the adjustment; I was wound up tight as a tick. This felt good, but I was still feeling like a bit of a schmuck between the bad workouts, and my friends knowing that something else was obviously going on, and showing their concern. I jokingly add "of awesomeness" to a lot of things....beer cooler of awesomeness, mile of awesomeness, long run of awesomness......while I don't dig Debbie Downers, I think I'm figuring out that I do need to cut some slack on the idea that I need to be positive about everything all the time. Some days, some workouts, some life situations, are just shitty and hard. There's no way around it. Working the problem, and figuring out the best solution, is what matters most.

The chiropractor, the fabulous Dr. Yale here in Grand Junction, advised me to skip yoga or running this evening, so I'm going to stick to that advice as much as I'm itchy to do what I call "revenge run" or yoga practice to make up for the way things went yesterday. I know he's right that I need to give the back and body the rest but it's hard to follow through sometimes. I'll take the opportunity to do other things and make the most of the down time, and keep in mind that I've made enough training deposits to not be concerned about a few days off this week.

Next up on my schedule will be the Appleton Freezer 4-miler on Saturday, followed by a 2-3 hour long slow trail run on Sunday. I did a glorious run with a group of eight local runners last weekend, covering 25 miles around Mary's Loop, Steve's Loop, Moore Fun, and other trails here near the Colorado/Utah border. I feel a little off-kilter for racing, but maybe this unintentional extreme taper will be good. I was also very inspired by the runners at the Olympic marathon trials, and getting to watch a fun, stealthy feed by another fellow runner who did a small-time stream of the event. I felt like I was right up in the action as he ran back and forth on the trials loops, and commented about ALL the runners, and not just the two or three big names in the game. Though my body sort of said "enough" this week, my mind is more in the game than it has been in a long time, and the trials just fueled that enthusiasm. I'm going to be patient, let the body catch back up to the mind, and let the two start trying to get along again out there on the roads and trails.

Occupy Bangs Canyon: The 2012 Bangs Canyon Fatass 30K and 60K

2012-01-09T13:49:00.021-07:00

The idea of running something called a "Fatass" is probably not all that appealing to the uninitiated. You don't hear about tens of thousands of people signing up for the 116th Boston Fatass, or the Fatass 5K to Benefit Children in Need. It's such a refreshingly simple means of getting out to run, race, and learn to rely on one's self, though, that the appeal really should be as wide and long as the race this past Saturday through Bangs Canyon, amidst the dirt, sand and slick rock of Western Colorado.

A Fatass is the moniker attached to smaller, community-based races characterized by the phrase "No Fees, No Award, No Aid, No Wimps." They often occur just after the new year, and are most popular with your rank-and-file trail runners and general long distance crowd. Courses are generally very sparsely marked, and runners can't depend on aid stations or rock and roll bands to get them through. Runners carry what is needed, including a map, cell phone, water, and whatever else one needs to bring along to stay out of trouble.

Grand Junction had a Fatass that was put on for many years, and the tradition was revived a few years ago by local Ironman, Leadville Trail 100 finisher and all around great athlete Kevin Koch. I'd never heard of a Fatass in my early years of running, but as I got into longer distances, I heard that we had one in my neck of the woods. A really well-written piece on last year's event in our local newspaper really piqued my interest, and with no marathon and two long trail races on my spring schedule, I was all over it this year. The Race Formerly Officially Known As A Fatass had been given the civilized name of the Bangs Canyon 30K/60K. Whether it was good word-of-mouth in the local running community, the more "friendly" name, or generally decent whether, there seemed to be many more people talking about running and racing this year compared to the previous few years, when 10-12 people total participated between different distance options. Besides local usual suspects, my friend Jen from Delta had committed to come up, as had Mad Dog relay teammates Mike from Olathe and Audra from Ridgway.

Usually, I've got a plan as far as my race and distance when there are multiple options, but I was decidedly undecided right up until the start. A couple of other runners thought they'd be doing the 60K; Jen and I both said that we'd play it by ear and consider a "loop plus", if not the whole two loops out in the canyon. Jen showed up at my place, and I drove us up Little Park Road, past sections of the Tabeguache and other area trails, until we got to the Bangs Canyon Staging Area. I still remained completely noncommital on distance, with a plan to run the first loop at a consistent pace, and then figure out if another loop would be prudent based on the first 19-ish miles (yes, 19 miles is a bit more than 30K, but as with some longer trail runs, all "official" race distances are approximate).

We signed in, and more runners started to trickle in. It was a truly gorgeous morning, and the early sun lit up the canyon while runners socialized and milled about. As race time approached, I stripped off some outer layers and put on a bright pair of OP shorts. I wasn't about to wear a skirt in this-I know how often I've fallen in other trail races-but needed some color and flavor out there. Probably sounds insanely stupid but I race better that way.

(Sandra, Ben, and I are really confused over the trail map)

(some of the boys, with race director Kevin at left)

(and some of the girls)

Besides the human entrants, there were a number a canine runners as well. This was going to be an all-comers kind of day. We all had our maps in hand, and when race time came, Kevin asked if there were any questions. I had to throw out a "Will there be any bands on the course?" smartass comment before he gave us the official go-ahead.

Almost immediately, we had our first-near crisis in the run. EVERYBODY failed to follow the course map and Kevin's directions, bearing right at the first fork in the trail instead of left. Shannon, Kevin's wife, immediately saved the race and yelled that everybody was heading in the wrong direction. Whoops. Soon, the two-dozen odd runners were turned around and headed in the correct direction, running downhill over packed snow, dirt, and some occasional muddy and icy spots.

Rather than embracing my inner "You're not as fast as these gnarly trail chicks, hang back, be conservative," I seemed to be setting a plan early on to run one strong loop, more aggressively paced than I might do on my own. I stuck with the half-dozen or so ladies who went out in a pack together, not able to run AND talk at that pace, but able to tuck in at the back and keep up. Eventually, Audra and Vanessa meandered ahead, but I seemed to be able to keep up with Sarah, Shannon and Kathaleen decently. I wasn't quite sure how long I could maintain this effort but stuck with it. I'd run sections of this area before, but never this portion of the trail, and the novelty of something new was helping me to hang in there. When Kathaleen started talking about how wet she was (from her Camelbak leaking), we all just busted up. This was making it pretty easy to mosey along at their pace that was a bit faster than I'd have gone on my own.

We'd been warned to save something for the climb back, but as we ran toward the river, I started to feel more and more relaxed, continuing to hang at the back of the pack of ladies. Mike took multiple pit stops in the early miles, and I had to give him a hard time the third time he passed me up. I also chatted a bit with Adam, who had a beautiful chocolate lab that looked much like my dog Wilson as a pup.

Plummeting down toward the river, I just had to look around a few times and appreciate everything about this run; the beauty of the trail, the company I was keeping, and having the good health to be able to participate.

Hitting the bottom of the route, we ran along the river, and then began the long, steady climb uphill-the hard part for which we'd been told to save ourselves.

Early on the uphill, we encountered Greg doing his best zombie impersonation,

and soon after that, we saw John, a 2-time Leadville Trail 100 finisher, and Kirk, a 17-time LT100 (and onetime winner) and Hardrock 100 finisher. We were about eleven miles in now, and I felt okay, but a little off the pace of the other ladies. Somewhere in here, I was doing nothing in particular, and felt a little "ping" in my right calf. Nothing bad or horribly concerning, but running uphill took on a new level of tweakage, with that calf kind of pinching with every step. As much as my mind was totally in the game for pushing to stay with the ladies, I recognized that as a Bad Ideas Club submission immediately, letting them go as I fell back a bit.

There were some lonely miles in here. This was the greyest part of the course; I was by myself, and my A-game wasn't around today. I had a bit of a moment during this time, alone with some people moving on ahead, and others out-of-sight behind me. Any deep, profound moments didn't last long, though, as I refocused on making an effort to alternate speedy hiking with running to avoid overtaking and injuring the calf.

Turning back onto a familiar section, I passed the ancient, overturned blue jeep I've never photographed (soon...soon....old camera died and am still awaiting a battery on a "nused" DSLR camera). Ah, yes, I knew a big uphill slickrock climb was coming, but I knew there wasn't too much more to run. As the trail snaked up and down, I'd hear occasional joyful, faraway yells from other runners, but wasn't sure how close or far away they were. It echoed through the canyons and put a smile on my face.

Making a turn downhill for one final plummet before the long final climb, I could see a runner who looked like Shannon. She appeared to be closer than she was; in actuality, I needed to snake around quite a bit to get back to where she was. I heard a few more celebratory whoops off in the distance, and as I eventually started moving uphill myself, I could see two runners off in the spot I'd been when Shannon seemed so close. Continuing up the slick rock, I was very tired, but managed to alternate hiking and slow running. Then, clear as a bell, I could hear a loud, operatic scale being sung somewhere behind me in the canyon by someone I presumed was Elizabeth, one of the runners who did a little singing on New Year's Eve. I couldn't tell exactly how close it was, or who it was for sure, but was music to the ears late in the game.

Getting close to home, I saw Adam and his dog heading back out again. Ah, so there would be at least one 60K runner today, or so it seemed. Nice. I knew I was not doing another lap, but thought it was cool that others were going to stick it out for another loop. Continuing uphill, I passed John and Marty, who were done, but meandering their way back down the slick rock a bit. It was pretty slick here, and as I slid around cautiously on that funky ankle, I saw John go down hard. He seemed okay, but it made me cringe. I had no doubts as it was that I was just doing one loop, but knowing myself, I knew that calling it a day after one solid lap was probably a great idea. The light was getting flatter, stuff was icing up a bit, and I didn't see anything for me to gain today by attempting another lap.

Once off the slick rock, I just scampered with what I had left to get up the trail, but didn't know the time. The borrowed, newer Garmin I've been using yet again died before the event was over (I'm wondering if anyone else with newer Garmins has experienced this issue, which I never had with my now-dead 205), so I didn't really know where I was time-wise. I was sure I was over four hours, but was feeling decent about my effort regardless of the time. Coming into the lot and finishing, Kevin called my time as 3:57. I was the last sub-4 runner in, and pretty stoked to hit that mark. This hasn't been my forte, and it was a sign that I've indeed closed the gap a bit between my road and trail running.

In the end, Audra had won the women's side of things,

and that pack of women I stuck with for the first 10 or 11 miles had finished about ten minutes ahead. Feeling really good about my performance, and hanging with those ladies (yeah, it was easy running for them, but still), I happily got into some dry clothes and assumed my position by the fire pit. Thus began the "Occupy Bangs Canyon" portion of things. I've joked with friends that when I finish the Desert R.A.T.S. 50-miler, I'd just like a few of them to show up shortly before I come in. They can go home, read War and Peace, shower a few times, kick back a beer or two...I don't care, it'd just be nice if the finish area is not deserted. In that spirit, I layered up and settled in for the long haul, as Adam continued his second loop, and Jeff, who was running his one loop consecutively after his wife Kathaleen so someone could always keep an eye on their kids. As we hung out, the snow began to fall, vintage 80's boomboxes appeared, and hula-hooping skills (or lack thereof) were demonstrated. Ray busted out a buffalo pelt from his car (because, as you know, everybody keeps one of these things in the trunk of their car, right?). Too much fun was had with that thing.

Now that it was getting later in the day, I was beginning to chill, but Adam and Jeff were also due in anytime. Sooner than expected, we saw Adam and his doggie come up the trail, and soon after that, Jeff made his appearance. Adam got one of the lovely plastic winner medal that the male and female 30K champs had received.

When Jeff got in, he got a beer and the satisfaction of being through running solo late in the afternoon. No, he's not really crying here, though it kind of looks like it. I'm not going to pick on Jeff-he brought me a shirt from the GABR, or the Great American Beer Run, which he will be putting on again for the first time in a few years at the end of this month.

I stuck around for a little bit before heading off, thoroughly invigorated by my own race, and the ensuing hang that followed for the others still on the course. There was a brief bit of worry that I'm not quite prepared for the Moab RedHot or the Desert R.A.T.S. run, but that thought was squelched because I knew this was a good run for me for the day, and that with incremental increases in effort and distance, I'll do both of those races upright and unbroken. On this particular Saturday, it was good to just get out and move my post new year's "fatass" around the trails with friends for a bit.

(Thanks to Shannon and Kevin Koch, and Jen Stagner, whose photos appear in this entry)

Beer Running, Tandem Treadmilling, And Running In New Year

2012-01-05T13:39:00.005-07:00

Ages ago-well, more like 16 months ago-I had the good fortune to be selected as a test subject in a study for an article in Runner's World magazine regarding running performance and alcohol consumption. It was a great excuse to run, drink some beer, and go through all kinds of cool testing that I wouldn't have been able to do otherwise. I chronicled the experience here, here, and here, and then just waited to see what would come out in print. After the story was pushed back several times, I wasn't sure that we'd ever see it in print. Well, this week, it finally ran (pun intended). It was a hoot to read it, and remember how things went down with people whom I was only somewhat acquainted with back then whom I'm fortunate enough to call friends now, including "The Lightweight" Bryan (featured in one of my posts this summer after his amazing Leadville Trail 100 finish), and badass trail runner Cynthia, a top finisher on the women's side at the Imogene Pass Run this year and regular at the yoga studio where I've been practicing since August. It wound up running at half the length it was originally written, and with none of the photos taken during our study ran in the article. So, if you'd like to chuckle at Bod Pods, and running with all kinds of crap strapped to the face, you'll have to check the pictures in my above links. I know we looked pretty funny, but I'm thinking we're a bit more photogenic than that frightening Homer Simpson picture on pages 54 and 55. Although I know the group was too small to draw any major conclusions, it was cool to see that we ladies held our own.

Another big event for the week was an annual gathering to celebrate and run in the new year. I went last year, and it consisted of some hula-hooping, a little Kentucky moonshine courtesy of Bryan and Elizabeth, and a freezing/life-affirming midnight run during which I donned a running skirt, swore a blue streak until my legs became numb, and then ran from 2010 straight into 2011. To the outsider, it might've seemed strange, but this was such a cool way to ring in the new year that I knew I'd be doing it again. This time around, Elizabeth was putting together a video compilation of the year in running, and all while back visiting family and friends in Kentucky. It started to get amusing when I'd get texts asking "what race did so-and-so bruise their foot in?" or "what race had the bowl with the animal in it for an award?" but it was fun to recall each of these races while being point woman in the research department. Although I'd helped some, I really had no idea what Elizabeth had come up with, so it was a real treat to view this and check out all the experiences had by folks in our running community.

There was other fun at the party as well, including the revival of tandem treadmilling. My friend and Dirty Girl teammate Shannon joined me for an attempt at treadmilling for two. All I can say is that the results are not pretty; we'll have to practice if we ever hope to be better than the likes of Ace And Gary, featured early in the 2011 running video. There was also a surprising musical portion of the evening, when we learned that longtime club member Liz can play a mean guitar and sing. And, yes, there was alcohol, oh alcohol. I don't often cut loose like that, but it just sort of went that way between peach smoothie awesomeness being blended in the kitchen, my own beer on hand, and some preservative-free red wine being uncorked late in the evening. This was all while some of us were decked out in the night's theme of "Polyester, Or Clothes That Should Be Recycled." It was a curveball, but I'd say we rose to the occasion.

After that night of craziness, I had one of those rare "Man, I am not motivated to do ANYTHING" kinds of days, but did manage to make it to the hot yoga community class in the afternoon. Runner/partygoer/peach farmer/smoothiemaker James was there too, and I laughed when he said he was going to be keeping an eye on me to make sure I didn't pass out. Once again, though, a little bit of physical activity proved to be just the ticket to hitting the re-set button. It was a brutal class after the party, but I felt a gazillion times better at the end.

Getting back into the swing of things, I'm excited to start a surprisingly busy January as far as running and racing goes. Track night is still going strong, and I had a workout this week that is proving to me that even a little speed work goes a long way. We have a self-supported 30K and 60K coming up this weekend, and I'm legitimately toying with running the 60K as a training run. It's probably an awesomely bad idea, and I may very well do the safe thing, and stick to the 30K. The weather's been great this week, though, and I am hearing the call of a longer run. I'm also buying into the theory that sometimes you have to go a little to far and cross that line to see that of which one is really capable. I won't be the first to finish and may very well be the last, but that's not my motivation. Watching that video on New Years's Eve, and seeing some of the impressive stuff accomplished by my friends, from first Imogene Pass Run to 50-milers, 100-milers, Ironmans, and beyond...it gets me to challenge and push my own self-imposed limits. I know the road to success in such events is paved in sweat and blood, but that's what will make success so sweet in the end. 2012 is going to be all about pushing through those walls, learning to be limitless in goal-setting, and holding myself accountable to doing the work to make those goals.

I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again, You're Never Gonna Keep Me Down: 2011 In Review

2011-12-29T08:12:00.008-07:00

We'll Be Singing When We're Winning

This is the first time I've done one of those "look back at the previous year" retrospectives. Like the Boston sticker I finally put on my car, it's one of those things I've resisted doing. I've done some things this year, though, that were surprising in both extremes, with some epic collapses and implosions, as well as success and strength at times and places I never thought possible. That might come from getting better at picking myself up, and looking honestly at the failures so that I can move forward with more confidence and success.

I kind of rode into the early part of this year on a wave of the best running I'd ever done; 2010 ended with three truly awesome races in a row, the last one being the Winter Sun in Moab. Cruising into the new year, things seemed to be off to a good start. I hit up the freebie/cheapie Appleton Freezer 4-miler, and stayed competitive with my speedy friend Suzie until the end when she dropped the hammer on in. This ended with those equal parts bliss and nausea, doubled over on the side of the road, knowing you laid it all out there. We were up at 5th and 6th overall in a small but very speedy field, and 1st and 2nd women overall. Being a slow-twitch kind of gal, this was pretty awesome.

Moving on from there, it was more or less all about running long and slow. I'd flaked out of the 55K at the Moab RedHot the year prior, opting instead for the shorter 33K. It was a good move that year; I'd been slightly injured and a little undertained. I hit the long runs but had my doubts about getting through 34 miles to the point of almost bowing out again. A wise friend-the same one who taught me the ways of POSE running-told me I'd regret it for sure if I did that downshift, and just needed to get out there and DO it, proving that it's those running friends who do seem to know me the best.

My other friends who thought they might race it were not registered; I'd be lone-wolfing it. It was, if anything, an opportunity to prove to myself that I COULD run trails-and COULD run really long. It wouldn't be as fast as one of my road races at a similar distance, and that was cool. On that day, I knew my mission was enjoy, keep moving, and finish. I truly expected that a point in time would come when the pain of the distance would overtake me. Imagine my surprise when, as the miles ticked off, I became more and more tired, but never reached the point of being miserable, or of the distance being more than I could tackle. This was one of the most wonderful things about that day. I wasn't there to contend against anyone else; it was all about defeating my fears. Doing it solo, taking pictures and video of the spectacular scenery-it made for a special day.

Moving ahead, my running was....no better way to put it....a little distracted and uninspired at times. The lack of training log or Garmin was fantastic for me for awhile, but I'll be the first to admit that I lost a little discipline with that lack of structure. Heading to Moab for Canyonlands, I battled that miserable wind blowing up the canyon, and I think the canyon, and highway into Moab, won a resounding victory. This fast course has always stymied me a bit, but even I was a little shocked at how bad I sucked on this course in March.

The next weekend promised to be loads of fun, and I looked forward to it; the 24 Hours of Moab relay. This was an example of things coming together organically. Our 5-woman, 1-man team was coming together for the first time this weekend, and we all just meshed. We were just there to have fun, but quickly found ourselves in the running to win the large team division. Our system of handing off to one another, and general organization, kind of flowed and happened. You couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces even when we learned we were NOT the winners, and had taken a close second to another team. The only damper was that damn fall I took, and the only major injury I've sustained in five years of running.

After the initial excruciating pain of the ankle roll and fall on slick rock at 3am, I'd been able to walk around camp at the relay. It was the end of my running for the race, but that was okay. I figured a few days of ice and rest and I'd be good to go. I was horrified, though, as I watched the ankle puff, and could feel the pain getting worse. I don't do pity parties, and I don't cry on Facebook about how my life sucks. I've got SO many blessings and good things going on, but when my regular doctor and ortho doctor told me "No Boston," I was crushed. This was going to be my year to run it for a PR. The thought of my first DNS had never entered my mind. Still, I made plans to go ahead to Boston to cheer on my friends. Plane and hotel reservations had been done ages ago; I could be bummed at home or try to make something positive of this injury.

Enter the miracle man, my physical therapist, Bryan. He'd seen my appointment scheduled for the week following Boston. Bryan called me up, and saved the day with thoughts of a plan of action to get me to Boston. I really didn't want to get my hopes up, but this was beyond exciting. I was willing to try anything, and knew I'd feel better about missing the race if it came down to it. Bryan drove me like a mule for a week and a half, and I did everything he asked of me. When I finally got to my two test runs at the end of all this guerilla physical therapy, he wished me good luck at the race.

This paved the way for an experience I never imagined having-running a major marathon to finish, not for a PR. I hadn't run long in five weeks due to the injury, and knew that even with conservative pacing, I could have problems. While I wouldn't wish those torn ligaments and marrow edema on anyone, the resulting Boston experience was a true gift. I got to really enjoy the course, the hang with fellow runners, the famed landmarks and fans on the course, and open arms that the whole city of Boston throws out on Marathon Monday. I took iPod videos, pictures, smiled, enjoyed, smiled, and had a very special all-out final mile when I knew the ankle would not prevent me from finishing. The icing was that it was only a few minutes slower than the year prior, and another BQ under circumstances when I thought I wouldn't run at all. The cannoli I brought Bryan hardly seemed adequate as a thank you for helping me, but I hope it was enjoyed.

From Boston, there was a month or two of pretty structureless running. I probably needed it, but this got me further off-track in the speed and discipline department. In June, I registered again for the Imogene Pass Run, the challenging, beautiful 17.1 mile trail run that is what I like to refer to as my "extra layer." I refocused on hitting NBT....Nothing But Trail. The higher the altitude, the better. I skipped out on the Bolder Boulder and other smaller 5K's locally to save money and focus on those long runs. I can't say that I ever felt like I was getting faster, but my trail confidence headed in an entirely new direction.

I did do one unique thing racing-wise in June. When our 24 Hours of Laramie team fell apart entirely after injury and illness, I decided to take the rare opportunity to race a double, completing the Children With Hope 10K on roads on a Saturday, and the Turkey Flats 10 mile trail run on Sunday. I had an age group finish at the first race, and was pleased with staying steady on tired legs the next day. And, as it was a Striders freebie race, there was food and Beer Cooler of Awesomess with friends at the finish; perhaps the best part.

Soon I was teaching my friend Loralie the ways of the POSE running, and she was getting good return on investment from the better form as well. We ran high altitude trails all over, doing Turkey Flats near Glade Park outside of Grand Junction, Crags Crest up on the Grand Mesa, and the Bear Creek Trail outside of Ouray, Colorado. Along the way, we to pictures, had fun, ate lots of good, healthy food, and had the occasional beer chillax or two. I also had the incredible experience of cheering/spectating/crewing a little at the Leadville Trail 100 for my friend Bryan, where a number of friends were there all weekend to crew and pace. Being a part of, and witnessing his amazing accomplishment was just more fuel for the mojo fire. I didn't know if sub-4 was going to happen at Imogene, but I felt confident that I could stay on my feet and run strong. There was a little tune-up race at Mary's Loop a week before Imogene, and I ran that to shake out any tension before IPR.

When it came time to go from Ouray to Telluride, I ran a nearly identical time to the year before, but it was with a controlled climb, fast descent, and nice rebound after having to walk out a late-race side stitch. We'd held a party prior to the race, making Honey Badger shirts for any Grand Junction-area runners who wanted one, and it kind of mobilized us as this fun, semi-organized group at the race. When several of our own ran to podium finishes, it was with great pride that we cheered them on to celebrate their success. It was also amazing to see the beaming faces of my first-time finisher friends Sandra and Kevin. This may not be an ultra, but it's an epic race. The elation felt at the end of this race just cannot be matched for shorter trail runs.

The rest of the year was kind of a broken record, but a favorite broken record I don't mind hearing over and over. I ran my fifth Anna Banana 5K in late September (fourth, really, since I paced my oldest daughter one year), and nearly matched my prior year's time, coming in second woman overall to Suzie, and picking off several women late in the race. I've struggled with second mile slumps in 5K's, and with general speed at the distance. I was surprised but very pleased to have success on this day at the short distance thing. It's a special race to me, as well, for the celebration of Anna's life, and those groovy ceramic bananas. It felt good to step it up on Anna's day.

I thought things were looking pretty good going into The Other Half. This race is really special to me, and I've always run it well. I'd done some good, specific training prior to race day, and felt anchored by that, and a solid Anna Banana. Pre-race weekend was very low key and mellow. I didn't sleep great, which in hindsight, had been a problem for months. Any life stress seems to come out in my sleep, and this is about the only answer I have to explain the ugly race that followed. I ran to my second worst half-marathon finish ever by time, and hands-down the worst I'd ever run without considering the time. Inexplicable nausea and fatigue overtook my race. I wanted to walk, I wanted to stop. The victory on this day was getting to the finish, and the fire it sparked to finish the year right, and finish the year strong.

He Sings The Songs That Remind Him Of The Good Times, He Sings The Songs That Remind Him Of the Best Times

The final official stops on the 2011 tour were the Rim Rock Marathon, and the Winter Sun 10K. It would be my third time at the marathon, and I realized going in that it was a great gift after The Other Half to take NOTHING for granted...not how much I love the course, or that I've run it well before, or that the weather looked pretty good for race day. Being a somewhat competitive gal (ha), I'd already been checking out the entry lists, and knew that the multiple-time defending champ would not be there. I had a real bug up my butt to win the race. I spent all my time running on the Monument, or doing hill repeats of the Serpents Trail. Some of us did the Run To Whitewater, 18 miles on trails, as a challenging tune-up long run for the marathon. I consulted with a few trusted training partners on how to best accomplish this goal. All that was left to do was show up, and execute my plan according to the training.

The race that followed was one of the most amazing, surreal experiences of my running life. It didn't hurt that this was right in my own beautiful backyard (quite literally). If I picked the one race out of all I've ever done to name as the one where I did the most right leading into the race AND on race day, this might be it. Yes, I kick myself a little bit on occasion for a three-second margin of defeat, and second place overall finish. Overwhelmingly, though, I feel joy for bouncing back from other bad races, general crap and stress, and getting my body and mind totally in the game that day. 26.2 miles coming down to an all-out sprint in the last 100 feet? What a gift to be a part of that. I also never expected all the love, positivity and support from my friends, fam, and fellow runners, though I don't know why not. They rock, and it was so neat that they didn't think I was a schmo for coming up a few seconds short of my ultimate goal.

As the year started coming to a close, an idea was hatched. It was such a great experience at Imogene to come together with other Grand Junction runners. We've got a lot of people who like to run here, who are very self-motivated, and who like to be as competitive as possible. Right before Rim Rock, a speed workout group was formed, and we began having practices weekly at a local high school track. There were four of us the first week, and things just grew from there. Runners who don't typically do track workouts or short distance started showing because they heard it was fun, and a good workout. Newer runners looking for general improvement, not necessarily hardware, started getting their feet wet. Many of us had sights on the Winter Sun 10K, and we were doing workouts that were going to pay off (hopefully) in Moab. I was also working at getting in fast downhill runs and other quality runs to make me faster on the net downhill course, and did two local 5K's with results that were some of my best in about three years. Heading down to Moab along with most of the regular Grand Junction runners, I again had thoughts of winning in my head.

Getting up on race day, it was a little breezy. Still, I had my game face on and ready to go. When I got word that Olympic Trials qualifier Megan Lund-Lizotte was there, I laughed, and shifted my strategy to seeing how long I could see her in the early stages. The race that played out was not a perfect, magical pixie dust run. I think that's what made it the perfect way to end my year. Well, no. Perfect would've been a magical pixie dust run. A "Work The Problem" kind of race with good execution, though, and not a total collapse when it gets rough, is not the worst way for things to play out. I started too fast, got passed, had to calm down, refocus, and then mount a consistent build into the finish. I wasn't close to an overall title with my fifth place finish among women, but from that rough start came a second consecutive age group win, and a sweep by ladies in our speed group of the 30-39 women.

The rest of the Junction crew (and honorary Grand Junctionite Ilana from Durango) killed it too, occupying podium slots overall and all over the age groups, and knocking out PR performances right and left. Being with this familiar, comfortable crowd, and celebrating one another's efforts-I wouldn't want to end the year any other way. Nobody's life or running is ever perfect, and there have been bumps this year for me in both regards. Sometimes it's easy to get into a funk, to get exasperated, and to not deal with these things well. I know, I've been there, done that, bought the tee shirt some days. Being a runner, though-having most of my best friends coming from this environment of working hard, having fun, and supporting one another-it is a wonderful thing. It's moving me forward into 2012 with confidence and hope.

You Spin Me Right 'Round Baby: Speed Group Fun, and Trail Runs

2011-12-15T13:36:00.002-07:00

I have found myself increasingly pulled by the current of work, end-of-year school, music and dance performances, a couple of "special assignments" that required my attention, and general holiday mayhem. With all that craziness, keeping to a regular running and exercise routine has been more important than ever. It's not that these events haven't been fun; to the contrary, it was fabulous to see my son and middle daughter perform instrumental solos for the first time, and I'm looking forward to a dance concert and two parties this weekend. It's just been nonstop, and getting in good running time has been crucial.

Over the past few weeks, we've been seeing our new local speed workout take off, and have recently added a new component to the workout-an optional, but highly encouraged mile time trial at the end of the workout. We did it for the first time last week, and I found myself briefly cursing an idea that was hatched with fellow runners while relaxing in a hot tub post-race in Moab a few weeks ago. There was no denying that this was a great workout, though, and a mental one as much as anything else. Running 6 x 400's can be hard enough, but knowing you're going to do a hard sustained mile effort after a brief recovery period really takes mental stamina and discipline.

Last week, I did my mile in 7:07, which wasn't bad for tired legs after a long week and good speed workout. We had eleven runners stay for the mile, and when we moved to our new location this week at the municipal Stocker Stadium track, it was pretty awesome to see that we had about 16 or 17 runners for the workout, and about ten who committed to stick around for the mile. What was exciting this time is that one of them was a brand-new runner. I can remember the intimidation of being new and feeling slow, and it was cool that this woman was going to put herself out there for a mile that would be hard for everyone at maximum effort.

After our regular warmup, drills, and intervals (this time, having enough of a pace divide to split up into two groups), I borrowed a watch from a friend, and log sheet for times from our coach/leader who had to depart early, and set up to time the mile. As I'm not fast enough to be first around to then time everyone else, and being a little sore this week, it was no biggy to skip the mile myself. I knew there would be plenty more opportunities in the future to make up for it.

Everyone got off to a rolling start, and then I just made sure I shouted out splits loud enough when the runners came around. In the end, we had runners coming in from 5:16 to 8:45, and it was a pretty cool thing to know that we were having success in beginning to draw the newer, less experienced runners. I'm pretty thankful for the folks who paid it forward with me when I was brand spanking new to running, so it just feels natural now to be welcoming and encouraging to the folks who show up for runs and races, not quite sure what they've gotten themselves into, but wanting to give it a try nonetheless.

After the mile, I cooled down (or...more like, warmed up after standing to time) with a couple of other runners, and picked the brain of one who ran a local 50-miler that seems to be calling my name. It's the Desert RATS Trailrunning Festival, and is a double-loop of the 25-mile course available on the same weekend, during which half-marathon and 5-mile trail races will be run as well. I must say that I get nervous about such a long race for a variety of reasons. When I finished the Moab RedHot 55K last year, I was SO happy to be done and wasn't sure how people ran a step further than 34 miles. Then there's that nasty ankle roll I took last year. On the other hand, I feel the need to do something bigger and longer than a road marathon or standard 30-something miler. So, it's been nice to talk to several local runners this week about it, hear their experiences, and think about how to best prepare for a hypothetical 50-mile run. I have not officially pulled the trigger, but am moving closer and closer to making the official jump up in distance. It's scary, but exciting.

In preparation for my potential long, slow trail run, I'm going to be taking advantage of time on the many beautiful and challenging trails in the greater-Grand Junction area. Yes, I said greater-Grand Junction. There are so many places to run long around here and I am getting excited to hit them up this winter, explore unfamiliar territory, and get ready to test myself next spring. There are other cities in the region that are certainly more well-known as trail running meccas. This is a sweet spot for access to great trails in all directions, both within city limits or nearby. With an already strong running community locally, it's been an added boost to know that we're mobilizing better than ever now, and hopefully creating a movement by example.

Windy With A Chance Of Nausea-The 2011 Winter Sun 10K

2011-12-06T09:31:00.011-07:00

Every year since becoming a runner back in 2007, I've finished out the year with a cool 10K in Moab, Utah called the Winter Sun. For many years, this was a smallish affair, mostly comprised of runners from Moab and Grand Junction's running clubs with maybe a few dozen runners showing up. Over the past several years, though, this race has grown exponentially, in part because the first 100 entrants get a guaranteed entry into the Canyonlands Half Marathon, but just as much because it gives runners the chance to run a fast net downhill course. It's also the third race in the Moab Triple Crown (the Canyonlands Half and The Other Half are the other two races), and again, Triple Crown runners also earn a coveted guaranteed entry into Canyonlands.

The first time I ran the Winter Sun, I ran 48:59, finished 11th in my age group, and couldn't believe I could go that fast despite being pretty sick going into race weekend. I'd wanted to make the top-10, and finishing just off it hooked me, and lit my competitive fire. Over the next three Decembers, I worked hard to move up the ranks, finishing 5th in age group the next year, and then onto the age group podium the next two years. I was 3rd in my age group in 2009, and ended a really special fall/winter 2010 running season with an age group win, PR, and 3rd woman overall in the race. After an up-and-down 2011, I came into this race weekend as ready and well-prepared as I'd been for any race this year. I didn't know who might show up, but I did plan on racing to win in my fifth time at this race.

The week leading into the race was busy, but I got in some workouts that were good tuneups for the Winter Sun, including some hill work with a focus on downhill running, and a track night workout with a focus for our growing group on the race, which a number of us were scheduled to run. I'd already been to yoga twice during the week, and had planned on laying low Thursday and Friday with all physical activity. As it turned out, I felt the need for some serious stress relief on Thursday, and hit up another yoga class. It was good for me but afterward I did find myself kind of wishing I'd sat on my butt as planned. I was good on Friday, though, resting, and heading down to Moab in the early evening for dinner with Ilana, Kevin and Kevin's wife Nora. Kevin was injured and would not be running, but he and Nora came to Moab to cheer on the many friends they've met via running in our area. This was super cool of them, and Ilana and I were pretty excited to know we'd have friends waiting at the finish. After dinner at Eddie McStiff's, Ilana and I headed back for the rest of the Patented Karah And Ilana Pre-Race Hang®, which consists of a soak in the very hot outdoor hottub at the Gonzo Inn. It has magical pre-race mojo, I'm convinced....or is just really relaxing with the hot water and cold air. We laid out our gear, turned in for the night to rest and prepare our bodies and minds for fast running the next day.

My night of sleep was pretty decent-good enough that I woke up around 5am and couldn't fall back asleep. Ilana must've been doing about the same, because close to 6am she said "Well, I'm up!" We got dressed and I checked the weather for the first time. The temperature was great-cold, not freezing. It was kind of breezy, though, and seemed to be of the headwind variety as it related to our race route. Heading over to breakfast at the Moab Diner, I received the first of several texts from Grand Junction friends requesting point weather forecasts on the drive down. This was amusing, and I really thought my friends shouldn't trust a weather forecast from a woman who said "hey, it's not snowing after all" just seconds before the 2009 Rim Rock Marathon snow squall. I was getting excited that so many local were here or en route. After breakfast, we headed over to the high school, mingled for awhile, checked out the entry lists, and got on the first round of buses to the start.

Stepping off the bus (or, large passenger van in our case), the wind had picked up noticeably. Really? C'mon. I was not excited about this. I don't ever remember Moab being particularly windy, and I thought we'd met our wind quota for the year at Canyonlands back in March. This was going to be somewhat of a factor today. The temperature was still perfect, though. We hung out near fire barrels, chatting with other runners. Some time while we were here, I got a text from a friend informing me that Olympic Trials runner Megan Lund was entered. I kind of laughed to myself knowing that running to win this race was off the table now, texting back that I'd have to see how long I could run fast enough to keep her in my sights.

As race time drew near, Ilana and I got in some warmup time. I wasn't quite as springy as I'd felt in the prior year when I ran my 10K PR, but wasn't feeling crappy either. I wasn't too worried about it; I have never tended to be someone who feels great in warmup. We stripped off our outer layers about 15 minutes pre-race, lined up about 5 minutes pre-race, and saw that other than Megan Lund, it looked like what I call Hardworking Midpackers Delight in the womens race. There was Keith (she's a lady), a great Masters runner from GJ, Annie, a petite 20-something speedster who also teaches at the yoga studio where I've been practicing, and another woman I didn't recognize lined up near the front. The the front of the pack in the mens race was clearly going to be very fast, with no easy pick for the winner like Megan on the ladies side. Race director Ranna gave her traditional greeting to all of us, and then the countdown was on. The starting gun sounded, and off we shot.

Right away, I had a problem. I was using a newer model Garmin Forerunner with the bezel, and I am NOT a fan of it at all. I'm a simple person and liked my old-school, 1970's calculator watch Garmin 205. Sure, it's big and ugly, but I never had issues with basic functions before it decided to fry itself. Somehow, I'd touched something funny on the bezel and brought up a graph of some sort. Oh well. Guess I wouldn't have splits or time during the race today. It was just going to be one big surprise at the finish with regard to my time. After two 5K's now without a watch, it didn't throw me off one bit, and was almost a relief to know that I'd be focusing entirely on how I felt, and on racing my competitors.

Running away from the golf course start, there was already a medium sized pack of men ahead and beginning to string out, and I could see Megan up there too. I immediately charged ahead, running second woman from the start. This felt realllllly fast but I went with it. There were several men from our track group in the lead group, and they were looking strong as they forged ahead.

Coming into the second mile, I was starting to pay for that too-fast start. I was kind of nauseous, could feel my heart rate out-of-control, and naturally slowed down. If anything, I wish I had Garmin data to see my split on that first mile because I know it was much faster than I had any business going. Soon, the masters-age-looking woman I didn't recognize passed me. Next, Annie passed me. Then, Keith passed me, saying something encouraging, but I can't quite remember what it was now. I knew I had to find my reset button, settle my body back down, and find a pace I could sustain all the way through.

As we hit the one big hill on the course, Ilana was now creeping past, and looking good. Dropping four slots within a mile was not part of my plan but it was still pretty early. I kept my cool, relaxed, and shortened my stride. After getting up the big hill, I felt like I was getting myself together again. No one else had passed me, and I seemed to be pacing pretty evenly with a couple of guys. Megan was long gone, but I could see the other four ladies. I was still in this.

Hitting the halfway point on the course, I was-dare I say it-starting to feel stronger, more competitive, and less nauseous. The headwind, though, was quite noticeable. I was not digging it at all. It helped to employ a strategy I'd been taught to use recently, though, and brought my gaze down to just a few feet in front of me, focusing on running in the now, and not on down the road, or putting my face up in that wind. I saw Keith move past Annie up ahead, and I was now making up some ground on Annie. Ilana had moved past Keith and Annie but was behind the unfamiliar masters woman.

As I reached the four mile point, I felt like I was in a good rhythm, and dialing in to that sweet spot on pace where I was slightly nauseous but still able to breathe well and turn the legs over quickly. I was really close to Annie now, and eventually caught up with her, running side by side for a bit. I said "let's hold off the other ladies back there!" and a minute or two later, I started inching ahead. I was getting pretty close to Keith now. Turning off the main road and into a residential neighborhood, I flew ahead, trying to catch her, and any other runners I could pass. We ran the road for a bit, and then made the awkward zig-zag around this funny gate at the beginning of the bike path portion of the course. I'd always felt clumsy here, but I think the track workouts and running into turns helped a bit this time, as I didn't feel as if I was going to hit the gate or stumble.

This last section of the course is not so much physical to me as it is an exercise in mental fortitude and stick-to-it-ness. For some reason, there are always people who start dropping like flies on the bike path and in the final stretch before the infamous track lap. It's slightly downhill, so it can be a great opportunity to pour it on and get some help from gravity near the finish. I reached the Taiko drummers, and got a real bump out of the festive atmosphere there. The drummers are a staple at The Other Half and Canyonlands, but had not appeared on the residential neighborhood course until about two years ago when we were pleasantly surprised by three or four drummers. This year, it seemed to be the entire Taiko Dan with a ton of kids and families there as well. I flew threw the party scene, determined to do as much passing as possible in the home stretch. I could see Ilana ahead, crossing the bridge, and saw her look to see who else was coming. Keith was just ahead of me, and when she turned on the bridge too, it was clear she didn't know I was back there. She started pushing harder, and I started pushing harder to stay with her.

The bike path made its final turn underneath a bridge/through a little tunnel, and then climbed up to the sidewalk. Soon, we were on the final stretch, coming down the road to enter the track for our final lap. I'd never turned around to see where Annie was, and wasn't about to now. I also didn't know if any other runners were sneaking up on me, and just laid it all out there. Keith was flying now and I wasn't going to get her today. I entered the track and saw Nora, who hollered and cheered for me. Tucking the head, I rounded the corner and pushed as hard as I thought I could go. I saw another friend from track group/track night at half a lap to go, and he yelled "Push, push, PUSH!" at me. Somehow I found one more gear and cranked it up some more. I wanted to hurl but I was SO close, and kept going at this pace.

Turning the last corner for home, I got my first look at the time clock. It was not going to be a PR at all, but I was cruising to what would be my second fastest of five runs at the Winter Sun. I could also see that I was not going to be caught by anyone at the finish, and had held on to that fifth female slot for more than four miles after that too-fast start, and brief fade in the second mile. I didn't let up and hammered through the finish, crossing with a finish time of 43:33. Yes, A PR or something close to it would have felt best, but the rebound after the shaky second mile and momentum build for the rest of the race felt great.

When results came out, I learned that I had indeed finished 1st out of 78 runners the 30-39 women, and 5th out of 342 women overall, marking my second age group win at this race. It wound up being an awesome day on the podium for Grand Junction runners, and runners from our track group in particular. The 30-39 women's podium was a track night sweep, with my friend and Dirty Girl relay teammate Shannon coming in second (I embarrassed her by yelling "Dirty Girl" loudly as she was collecting her medal), and group runner Michelle just behind her. The overall title went to another one of our group newcomers, Jake, and our head cat wrangler at track night and two-time Winter Sun winner Marty took the male Masters title. Shannon's husband Kevin, a Leadville 100 finisher, was fourth man overall and winner of his age group. Keith, Annie, and Ilana (the "Durango Interloper") all won their age groups, and local runner/track grouper Ben also nabbed hardware in the 20-something men. There were also strong finishes and PR efforts from many other locals, and it was just very cool to see all the smiling faces and camaradie in the finish area. Keith joked with me about how "Yeah, you went out way too fast" and how she didn't know she had anyone behind her until that last turnaround. Then there was runner friend Ray declaring that next year, we'd all have to show up at the finish area wearing Snuggies. I'm not too sure about that last idea; at least I've got a year to think about it.

Clockwise from center: Keith (in lime jacket), Me, Shannon, Julie (who placed in women 40-49), Ilana, and Loralie (my frequent high altitude training partner over the summer)

Lastly, this is a fun little video clip shot by Kevin. I really can't thank him and Nora enough for coming out just to cheer on and support the rest of us who were running. His attitude in injury recovery has been great, and having cheering friends at the finish was all the more appreciated in knowing that he would have much rather been running. Oh, and I didn't mention it earlier but Megan Lund did kill the women's field, finishing in 36:xx despite a pit stop halfway through. Watching this video clip, it was cool to see how strong and fast we ladies can be, and admire the speed of one of the best ones around these parts. I don't know who will show up next year, but I'm going to work hard and come back next year aiming for the top of the leader board again.

Hope's A Funny Thing-It Shines Like A Ring: Turkey Trotting And Speed Working

2011-12-01T09:31:00.011-07:00

Firefighters over the starting area of the GJ Firemans Turkey Trot

Photo by Me

I have to admit to being rather unmotivated to blog this week; or, more accurately, so busy with other stuff that I've not wanted to do much of anything when down time finally came to me. Good things have been happening, though, so they're worth sharing.

First of all, this new weekly speed work group we started about a month ago is REALLY taking off, from four of us the first week to ten the day before Thanksgiving, and twelve yesterday. It's not just straight-up speed work; we do a warmup, some drills and exercises for strength training and injury prevention, intervals (of course) where we already seem to be pairing and grouping off with other similarly paced runners, and cooldown. Interestingly enough, three of the four workouts have come before races for me, but we're learning how to modify the speed work pre-race so that it loosens us up and gets us ready to go rather than taxing or exhausting the body. I wasn't sure if I should go last week, since I decided late to do our local Turkey Trot the next day. Our fearless leader assured me it was a good thing if I ran my 400m intervals at around 70-80% effort for the first 300 meters, opening up to race pace in the last 100 meters. When I went to bed that night I did feel a little tired, but I think this was more to do with two races and a bunch of speed work less than two weeks after a marathon. The Turkey Trot was not some huge target race of mine, so it was a great time to experiment with racing a little tired, but with high hopes and confidence for a good race based on my recent running.

I showed up about an hour early for the Turkey Trot, which I figured would be plenty of time to pre-register. It was, but I learned that unfortunately, they only had 900 timing chips and already had more than 900 runners registered. The good news here was that they'd lowered the race day registration to cost to $15 to make up for this. I wondered, though, how they were going to record times for those of us who were unchipped.

I warmed up on the riverfront trail pre-race, and just tried to keep it about going through the motions with good form. I didn't want to overthink and remind myself that my legs were a little tired-I just wanted to get out there and run as fast as I could. To that end, I'd ditched the Garmin again, as I did previously at the Holy Family 5K. I was just going to run fast and hard, and have no idea my actual pace.

When it was time to line up, there were all the usual local speedy people out there, as well as what appeared to be some non-local speedy people in to visit family and friends, and whup up the locals. There were actually close to 1200 people toeing the line today-an amazing number in a city with a population somewhere around 46,000. It's great to see so many people-from competitive local and regional runners to recreational walkers-out to start the day off right, and support several local firefighter charitable groups. Soon we counted down and took off.

What's that rule about 5K races? Oh, yeah. They HURT. BAD. Today was no different, but on the upside, nothing seemed to be hurting me above and beyond the normal pain threshold for short distance. It was a little cold, and my lungs were struggling a bit to adjust at first, but I soon settled in. There was a good handful of women who were off and gone; there were a few others of us who paced kind of near one another in the first mile. Considering that I was 12 days post-marathon, this was a pretty decent run on tired legs thus far. I focused on a high cadence and running with good form, and tried to ignore the small mile marker on the ground at the end of mile one. I didn't want any outside influences other than me pushing and keeping up my own pace; I didn't want to let in any chance of a second mile sag.

Heading down the road and turning toward the Connected Lakes, I managed to pass a guy or two, but also had two local women pass me-with dogs. They are speedy gals, and I tried to pick it up but they were picking up more. Running down to the turnaround, it was so uncomfortable to have to corner the orange cone quickly. I boomeranged around it and got my first look at how close any other women might be to me. I saw two less than 30 seconds back from me, and knew they were good runners who could pick it up anytime. If I'd had any thoughts pre-race of this maybe being a fun run where I let myself coast, they were gone now and I was in full racing mode.

Hitting the second mile marker, I was pleased that although I knew how far into the race I was, I hadn't obsessed about the long second mile, nor did I feel like I'd dropped off any. I was running now on the paved riverfront trail, which curves, twists, and has a number of uneven spots and little bumps. It's a real workout late in a 5K on what had been fairly smooth and flat surfaces until now. I was bound and determined to really hammer through and finish strong, and not sag off or get clipped at the finish. There was a little bit of leapfrogging with various men running about my pace, but there had been no passing or being passed by women since before the second mile ended. Coming toward the finish, I could see the balloon arch and time clock, and got a look at the time...clicking off in the 21:xx range! This was going to be another good 5K finish for me, and I surged ahead with a little bit of a third wind. I crossed the finish in 21:44, and moved through the chute, happy to be finished.

Moving past the finish chute, I saw Ali come in (one of two ladies not far behind), and we hung out and talked, soon joined by another one of her friends. Looking over my shoulder at one point, I saw that our track group leader dude was talking to a reporter from a local TV station, so I knew at that point that he must've won-sweet! I learned later that he did, but it was by the most razor thin of margins, with the #1 and #2 men shoulder-to-shoulder coming into the finish. Still, a win is a win. For my part, I did not have an official time logged but Bryan, physical therapist extraordinaire and host of the race at his PT offices allowed me to go talk to the timers to have my time recorded. With the time clock, I was able to report the exact time I'd crossed the timing pad, backed up with my self-reported time being a few seconds behind a local runner I could identify as finishing just ahead of me. So, that was cool that I was able to log an official result even without the bib.

When the results were published online, I could see that it was a fast race at the front. I was 10th out of 467 women overall, with three women running 19:00 and under, and four more running under 21 minutes. I was 2nd out of 120 in age group, so all in all, I was very happy with my result. The speed work, racing, and practicing good form when tired worked out. I know I didn't just go out there and hope I'd do well-I'd been working hard and working SMART at training for goal races on my schedule-but having self-confidence, hoping, and expecting to do well did pay off.

This week, I again focused on smart training. I did a comfortably paced but still very challenging run on Serpents Trail, an area trail with 1.75 miles of climbing, 900 feet up, and then descent back to the trailhead. There was also a good hour of running early morning running on neighborhood streets, a downhill speed workout in a neighborhood that provides good practice for the Winter Sun 10K, and speed work night again yesterday. I'm feeling a little fatigued, but nothing that won't be all rested away by Saturday. I've also been to hot power yoga twice this week, and am finding that it is making me stronger, recovering me from hard workouts faster, and allowing me to really become tougher with workouts in extreme temperatures. The practice is at 98 degrees, and it killed me in the beginning, but a few months in I'm finding that it's a great supplement to running.

Tomorrow's the big day to hit the road for Moab for my 5th run at the Winter Sun 10K. Other than still being 7-8 pounds up from last year, I find myself as confident, strong and hopeful as I've been for a race. After just talking about how I need more speed work for some time, I'm actually doing it now, and am beginning to see results from it already. The strategic downhill workouts should also be very helpful for race day. I hear the race day weather forecast is getting crappier by the moment, but really am not putting much stock into it right now, or deciding in advance that I can't have a good race. Hope's definitely a funny thing....that, coupled with trusting my training, and being mentally tough when it gets hard, could have me on a road that I believe can bring me to a podium finish in Moab this weekend. If that doesn't work, maybe a pre-race margarita and soak in the Gonzo Inn outdoor hot tub will do the trick.

(The song that inspired this week's blog post by Denver's own Paper Bird)

The Bad Ideas Club: Tom Turkey Prediction Run Race Report, And Other Things You Shouldn't Do In Marathon Recovery

2011-11-20T08:27:00.004-07:00

Right off the bat, I have to say that I was positively surprised and overwhelmed by friends and family offering congratulations after last weekend's race. I felt great about my effort and execution, but there's a natural tendency to want to kick one's self and play "what if" in a race that came down to the final seconds. I think I've got a pretty healthy outlook on those races when one comes up a little short, but all the good energy squelched any bit of self-doubt or negative thoughts that could have crept in to my brain.

In the days following the race, I had a recovery week unlike any other before. I don't know if it's being slightly older now, or the sprint at the end of a marathon, but I've never been as physically and mentally drained the day after a race as I was last Sunday. My whole body hurt and my brain-well, let's just say that basic thought patterns were a challenge. I am lucky enough to have a gig cleaning in trade at a local hot yoga studio; the cleaning job there should take about 45 minutes tops, and really can be done in a little over half an hour. This Sunday, it took me close to an hour because things like "moving the laundry from the dryer by lifting them out with your hands" and "now you pick up that broom that you've been staring at for five minutes but can't see, and push it around the floor" were incredibly complicated concepts.

By Tuesday, though, I was feeling human-like again. I did a fast-hike up and slow run down Serpents Trail on Tuesday morning, and when the opportunity to learn a good downhill speed training route that same night presented itself, I said "what the heck-go for it." Then, on Wednesday, I hit the second meeting of our new local speed work group at the high school track. I knew our fearless leader wouldn't be there but thought someone else was in charge. As it turned out, he hadn't necessarily planned on being a solo substitute leader, so I co-hosted practice with him. It was surprisingly fun even though I hadn't expected to be leading any drills or intervals, and nobody revolted when I said that YES, we were going to do that last interval and not wuss out early. On Thursday, I did another short early run, and seemed to be feeling the effects of running more, and with a higher intensity than I have post-marathon any other time. Friday off was a no-brainer.

Saturday brought a local prediction run called the Tom Turkey Prediction Run. This is one of several long-standing events in our running club; it's a low-cost, no frills event with a twist. The prizes-actual Thanksgiving turkeys donated by a generous local grocery store-do not go to the fastest runners. The five turkeys go to the runners who guess closest to their actual finish time, and no watches or Garmins are allowed to help with that pacing. I did this run in 2007, in my first year of running, and loved the concept, though I was such a new runner that I missed my mark by over two minutes. I got up on Saturday morning still unsure if I'd do this run, but after coffee, decided that punishing myself a bit would reap greater benefits than laying around. I was pretty dead-legged and completely lacking mojo, but hey. Possibility of a free turkey! I dressed warmly, swung my oldest daughter out to a dance rehearsal, and then swung back over to Larry's house, the start and finish of the 6-mile prediction run.

Right away, I saw a lot of the usual suspects. There were several of us there who had run Rim Rock the previous weekend, and I thought "oh, good. So my thought process was normal in thinking this was a great idea." Denial. It's a great thing. I ponied up my dollar, and asked myself "how slow are you going to run this after a week of random post-marathon speed work, and trying to throw in a race?" I figured somewhere in the 44 minute range, but somehow 44:14 sounded good. I wrote down my prediction, lightly warmed up, and joined everyone at the starting line a few minutes later. When Larry asked if anyone had any last minute questions, I asked "is it too late to back out?" I had NO idea why I thought this would be a good idea. Oh, wait. Turkey. A few seconds later, we hit the ground running with no concept of time or distance.

From the second we started, there was no denying it-I was TIRED. This was HARD. I thought that just stopping, going home and having some coffee might be really, really yummy. But wait. I'd paid my dollar. This was good speed work even if I felt like crap. And hey. Possibility of free food. So, on I trudged. I hit a point that kind of felt like the end of the first mile and resisted the urge to think about how I had five more miles to go.

Now that I was warmed up, the temperature felt quite comfortable. I almost wished that I'd worn shorts, but had felt too lazy to look at weather forecasts and plan in any kind of detail what to wear. Oh well, too late to do anything about that. What was mostly on my mind now was WOW, this was a really TERRIBLE idea today. I knew it was a terrible idea and I convinced myself otherwise. Did I have to do this? Couldn't I just lay down and take a nap? Oh, wait. No. Turkey. And I had to get back to my car eventually. I ran across a section of dirt road and tried to find line that didn't feel uneven and challenging. Couldn't really find that place today, though. Shoot. Onward on the uneven hardpacked dirt.

Hitting road again, my mind started wandering to other places but inevitably would come back to the fact that WOW. That marathon, and the speed work this week? Yeah. I feel it. Awesome! I mean, "AWESOME!" By which I mean, "S#it. This hurts." My brain tried to remember how to get the body to run with good, relaxed form. That did help a little bit, even though I kind of felt like I was going in slow motion and backwards. I hit a point on the course that seemed like we were probably about four miles in, and there was a little glimmer of hope that I was not, in fact, going to die out here today. Don't confuse that with feeling good-but it appeared that a search and rescue party would not be necessary.

Turning onto a long, straight, stretch of road, it seemed like the road went on forever. Finally, I could see Bryan, a local runner and member of the Marathon Maniacs with 75 marathons to his credit, make a left turn a good minute ahead of me. Sweet. The end was approaching. Maybe. I finally made it to the same corner, and then fondly remembered how much it sucked to climb a hill at the very end five years ago. It was time to tuck my head and just finish this thing out. My turnover felt okay, considering that my mojo was out the door. I wasn't moving as fast as I could fully rested and recovered, but this was amounting to a pretty good run with a very tired body. I kind of had my first tiny spark of energy and started playing the "run to the telephone pole" game I do to break up the courses on country roads in this neck of the woods. Finally, I crested the hill and could see that I just had the last half mile to go, and then would be back at La Casa De Larry. Go girl go. Run for the Turkey.

Oh, crap. This felt like one of those dreams where the road stretches out, and your destination moves further away the harder and faster you run toward it. Wow. This was an awesomely bad idea except for that whole free bird thing. I realized it would be kind of stupid to walk now, though, and just made friends with the pain. Or, frenemies. Finally, I hit the promised land...the edge of Larry's driveway. I did my usual gasp-and-stagger that causes people to ask if I'm okay after a hard effort ("No, this is totally normal! Carry on! Nothing to see here!"). Larry shouted over that as of now, I was the best guesser. I walked over and saw that I finished in 44:23, just nine seconds off my prediction. Well, how's that for a bad idea? I might be in the running for free food!

As other runners came in, I continued to be at the top of the prediction board.I'd finished about seventh overall and second woman, and once I'd regained normal breathing, I did a cooldown jog with the first handful of finishers, cheering in runners on their way in. When we got back, we didn't have to wait long before Larry hopped up in the back of his truck and started passing out turkeys. He seemed to mostly be working through reverse order from worst to best guesses, and finally we got to the turkey winners circle. Suzie, one of several regulars, nabbed the first turkey, and sack of extras/sides. I believe it was about a 14 lb bird. Moving up through the order, I still hadn't been called, and was pretty sure now that I'd guesstimated closest. It finally came down to the last two of us, and the second best guesser had come within ten seconds, so I was indeed the prediction winner. Woohoo! I met Larry at his truck to receive my turkey time card, 19-lb bird, and bag of stuffing mix, gravy, and canned cranberry. Pay a dollar, run a painful race, win turkey. A beneficial arrangement all the way around.

This week was fun and crazy with the running. Part of me wants to say I'm not racing again until the Winter Sun 10K, but I can't say that for sure. There's are two area Turkey Trots coming up-one on Thanksgiving locally, and a new one the Saturday after in neighboring Delta, Colorado, and that just might be good to keep waking up the speed now that I'm truly back in the habit of putting myself into that level of pain. Making sure I'm getting balanced training, and playing the racing by ear seem to be paying dividends right now, though, so that's how I will proceed for now.

Wavin Flag-The 2011 Rim Rock Marathon

2011-11-13T13:37:00.009-07:00

(video by John Kohls from the Frunners, a group of, well, fun runners in the area. Blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo by Sandra and I in the last 30 seconds)

Give Me Freedom, Give Me Fire, Give Me Reason, Take Me Higher

I normally wait a few days to try to form coherent thoughts about a big race, but I thought this one was best written while still on the sore, exhausted, euphoric and hungry post-race high of the 2011 Rim Rock Marathon from Grand Junction to Fruita.

This weekend marked my third time running the Rim Rock Marathon. The race has been a surprising acquired taste; I volunteered at the final two Rim Rock Runs, 37K gate-to-gate across the Colorado National Monument, and swore I'd never do that crazy climb and descent. I was hooked in, though, in 2009 at the inaugural edition of the full marathon in the snow and mist. I wanted to run sub-4 since I knew it was not a "flat and fast" marathon, and was thrilled with a 3:41 finish, handling the uphills, but running the downhill a little too fast and hitting glycogen depletion in a marathon one and only time, at mile 25 that year. It was good enough for fifth place, and the next year I came back with plans to run it smarter. I managed that, and also set an unlikely marathon PR, running 3:29 with a strong uphill, slightly controlled downhill, and solid trip down Highway 340 to the finish at the James M Robb State Park. I moved up two slots to third place, and felt pretty good about that finish in a race with some strong regional ladies.

This year, my racing has been pretty inconsistent. After bombing out and having one of my worst races ever at The Other Half, I kind of had the gift of knowing that I couldn't take anything for granted on a course that felt good and homey. To that end, I'd spent the final few weeks prepping on the course, getting in numerous short runs at the start and two long runs that incorporated most of the course. I'd also participated in the first workout for a grassroots speed work group that we're getting up and running for local runners, and it was a perfect way to get the pre-race heebie jeebies out. I knew the race could go a number of ways but was feeling that I'd truly done everything in my power in these past few weeks to be ready for race day. My mileage base was smaller than a year ago, and I'm somewhere in the 5-10 lb range over my best racing weight, but I had a lot of optimism and confidence in really knowing this course, having the muscle memory, and a definite game plan in mind. Though a 5K has no bearing on marathon performance, my most recent race made me think I was back on track. I knew that two-time defending champ Keri Nelson was NOT registered; she's in an entirely different league and would have been the easy favorite. Knowing the field was wide open, and with a recent crappy race, I was hungry. With experience being everything on this course, I felt I had every reason to expect a good result on race day.

The day before the race, I decided on short notice that a pedicure would be a good idea, and roped in my friend Elizabeth for that. I got my gnarly runner nails cleaned up a bit, got the feet and calves rubbed, and had a kind of badass coat of purple and black crackle toenails when we walked out. Don't ask me why this kind of stuff is good for my race day mojo sometimes; it just is what it is, but in a good way. A nice pre-race dinner with friends and fellow runners got me deeper into that relaxed and focused zone, and an excellent night of sleep followed this day of chillaxation.

See The Champions, Take The Field Now, Unify us, Make
Us Feel Proud

Getting up early the next day, I had some coffee and nibbled on some cinnamon bread in a quiet house. Sandra came over to my house, and we got a ride down to the start, picking up my son's teacher Molly along the way. It was pretty cold, but not miserable, and the skies were overcast. Perfect. I'd thought long and hard about going Garmin-less, but in the end, opted to borrow a 405 from my friend Jess. I felt good about how I would use it; I'd just check my time at several key points, and other than that, it would be pure racing on feel. Lining up shortly before the start, I felt pretty free and ready to run. We were counted down by Chris Reed, the race director, and then we were off.

This first mile was a nice opportunity to warm up. There are purists who were opposed to this race becoming a marathon, but I kind of love this chance to let the body get in race mode before the climb begins. From the get-go, there seemed to be a small pack of ladies together. I recognized one local, but was unfamiliar with the others. After we hit the Monument, I tried to remember anything I've ever been taught about efficient, short strides, high turnover, and relaxation. Things felt a little hard today, though-much harder than last year. I did what I've been working on lately, though, and focused on a space just a few feet ahead of me without a focus on how high I needed to climb. Run in the moment and enjoy the gift of running was where my head was at this point. I was at the tail-end of what seemed to be 6-7 women, and had all of them in my sights. I fought the urge push up front when I wasn't ready, and just worked on being relaxed and keeping that rate of turnover high.

Getting into the second half of the climb, I found myself REALLY not feeling good. My effort and heart rate felt a little beyond where they should be here, and I was moving more slowly to boot than I needed to be. Today, though, I had a cool head prevailing. I disconnected from the ick, and kept that gaze a few feet ahead. It was a little ugly, but I was now getting close to Cold Shivers Point, and still with what seemed to be the lead pack of ladies. It was a bit confusing, though, because there were also relay teams in the mix, and there were some speedy ladies on these teams.

When we finally hit the high point on the Monument, I momentarily had a break from the feeling crapola, and took this opportunity to "relax" by getting the shoulders out of my ears, boxing nuns fists back down and swinging loosely, and increasing turnover. I did this for a bit on a flat section and felt okay, but the next time we started climbing (it's not over after the initial five miles), I found myself feeling worse than I did at the start. I'd briefly hopped ahead of two of the ladies-one in pink and one in purple-but they popped back ahead here. On one of the climbs in the shade, I felt so yucky that it seemed like this could turn into my Other Half death march. I was resolved to not allow that to happen again under any circumstances, and tucked the head again, blocking out any negative thoughts that tried to creep in about how things were going so far. I focused on the fact that even though I felt crummy, I was hanging in there, and none of the other women looked to be on fire either. The uphill was a challenge for all runners and we all looked the part.

Approaching the halfway point, I made my first real pass of one of the "Gang Of Five Or Six." I expected an answer, but that was the last I saw of her. I was feeling slightly more settled in and human, and took the opportunity to look around now at the amazing scenery. This course is gorgeous on a bright and sunny winter day, but it's almost sacred on a cold, overcast and grey day. Being out here with people who feel the same way about races like this felt good; every time I was running near someone, there would inevitably be a comment about the beautiful day. These are my people, and I drew off that positive energy.

Approaching the half-marathon point where relay runners exchanged, I was curious to see who dropped off but knew there were also possibly runners far enough I ahead that I couldn't tell for sure the positions and placement. Still, I watched closely to see who dropped off from the group. It appeared that one woman had handed off but I wasn't really clear at this point if there were other women up ahead. I was now pretty close to the pink-shirted girl and purple shirted girl, and was running behind the two of them, third in our small pack. The pink-shirted girl just didn't look 100% comfortable to me, and I kind of smelled blood in the water here. The purple girl was not running aggressively but looked okay. When we finally got up and over the big hill at 13 miles, I started working at moving ahead. If I was to make a move, it needed to be on the downhill section. Moving closer to Pink and Purple Girls, a relay runner told me "that pink girl's the leader!" I said "Oh, I know!" and could feel that suddenly, I wasn't feeling crappy anymore. I felt ready to race, and that I'd done a good job of running my pace and dealing with the race without regard to others. I slid past Purple Girl here, and found myself about 25 feet behind Pink Girl.

We were now starting to enter the part of the course that features several flat-to-downhill sections, but there were still little climbs here and there. I found myself very relaxed now, and let gravity do its thing, carrying that momentum into each small climb. Soon, I found myself shoulder to shoulder with pink girl at about sixteen miles. We chatted briefly, and she was a pretty cool lady. I found it a little surprising, though, that she was willing to carry on conversation as the leader of this small pack, and possibly the race leader.

I learned that not only was this her first Rim Rock, but it was also her first marathon-period. She had been a collegiate swimmer so there was a good athletic background, but the running thing was a new endeavor. I told her that I was on the beer drinking and quarters playing team in college, and got a chuckle out of her. We agreed that when aid station attendants told her that she was the leader, that it was best to assume nothing. When she said, though, that this was much faster than she'd trained, and "felt great," I just knew in my gut that I could come out ahead. Purple Girl was a little behind but close. I continued to run shoulder to shoulder with Pink Girl, and was just surprised that she was neither dropping off or making a big move ahead. It was a good pace for me, so I just stuck with it. Heading up to the 20 mile aid station, though, I knew that it was time to be aggressive, go for broke, and see what happened. I grabbed my drink on the fly here, pouring out half and continuing to run. From what I could tell, Pink Girl walked this aid station as she did not wind up catching up to me as I moved through. I hammered ahead and got my game face on for the section that I'm best at, and needed to nail.

When I Get Older I will Be Stronger
They’ll Call Me Freedom
Just Like a Wavin’ Flag

Moving ahead, I caught up to and passed one or two men in the race, but didn't see any women in sight. I let gravity do its thing, and did pay attention to my pace on the downhill. My undoing at the '09 race was flying through here like it was a 5K. When I got off the Monument and hit Highway 340, I slowed down, and then had a total collapse at mile 25, slogging through what felt like wet cement to the finish. I found a pace that felt as aggressive as I could run, and still have a little something left for the end.

Coming down through the two tunnels on the Fruita side, I looped around and through an aid station where I was told I was second woman (had been told third woman at the last aid station), and was able to get a look up. Purple Girl was now clearly past Pink Girl, but still easily a minute behind. I ramped up that turnover as much as I could while gravity was still giving me free help. As I came down the shorter switchbacks, I looked up and saw that there was one man behind me, and that Pink Girl was a full switchback behind, but I couldn't see Purple Girl. I was getting too tired to turn around and just focused all my energy again on the here and now, tucking down for the most mentally gruelling part of the course.

Turning on to highway 340, I was now running in the shoulder with traffic zooming by; many drivers gave thumbs up or waves, though. That's the great thing about Colorado-not everyone runs, but everyone spends time outside and most tend to support stuff like this. I could feel natural attrition setting in and knew I'd slowed down some but I wasn't on the verge of collapse. I remembered a drill we did at group speed work earlier in the week with jogging in place on the balls of the feet as fast as possible (to work on strengthening the calves and increasing turover). I applied it here, and felt like it was saving me from a total dropoff. Still, I knew I had to fight as hard as I possibly could until the end and then some. I was SO ready to be done as I ran across a bridge over the river near the finish, but tucked the head again. Finally, I could see it...the last turnoff into the park. And then, I heard it...footsteps behind me. Looking over my shoulder for the first time, I saw someone I hadn't seen in a long time...Purple Girl.

And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes back
And then it goes

I hit mile 26 and pushed as hard as I pushed as hard as I possibly could. She'd made up a huge amount of ground and for a moment I thought I was dead in the water but again just shut the brain off and set the body to an even higher gear than I thought was possible at this point. Turned out her pass was NOT inevitable and I found myself still ahead of her approaching the final left turn toward the finish. Then, it happened. All I saw were high knees, arms pumping, and I threw myself into it with everything I had to stay ahead of the purple. She surged ahead, though, and my best was not matching it. As we hurtled toward the chute, I was incredulous when I heard "Here come our first two women, and it's going to be a close one!" I thought we might be the lead two but didn't really think we were for sure. I threw everything I had into the last stretch but it wasn't enough today. She crossed the finish and doubled over immediately; I flew through right after her, and we exhanged a high five/back slap/"good race." My friend and Dirty Girl teammate Shannon was working the finish and removed my timing tag, and then I collapsed on the ground outside the finish chute.

I wanted to win-REALLY bad. Laying on the ground, though, I wasn't imagining anything I could have done differently to make it happen, and was in a sublime moment of knowing I'd raced well, pushed myself, and attacked opportunites. I fought through the icky stuff, and ran aggressively as soon as I could, not allowing others to dictate the race. I didn't concede, either, when I found that the subsequent winner was right on my tail. In the end, I learned that a mere three seconds separated me from the winner...3 seconds over the course of 26.2 miles. I can't imagine a better ending than going to pure guts and desire at the finish. I really wanted to be able to say I won a marathon today, and yes, there is certainly the part of me that says "where could you have made up those three seconds?" There was something supremely satisfying, though, about coming from behind, learning in hindsight that I'd led a marathon from 19-ish to 26.1 miles, and slugged it out with a woman who wanted to win as bad as I did. It leaves me hungry, and there's nothing more motivating and satisfying that working to fill that hunger.

Yeah, Yeah, Oh Yeah What Condition My Condition Was In: The Holy Family Spooktacular 5K & A Monumentally Long Run

2011-10-31T09:56:00.008-06:00

This week was sort of crazy beyond my normal level of busy. It was the end of the school quarter, so there was the onslaught of related conferences and off-days, end of my son's soccer season, and the performance week for my daughters who were dancing at our downtown "Spooktacular" festivities. Still, I'd been pretty disciplined with my running, shifting all my runs onto Rim Rock Drive, the road over the Colorado National Monument where the Rim Rock Marathon takes place in 12 days. I got in several shorter runs as well as a good medium-long run at what is a pretty nice clip for me. I think it probably kept me from blowing a gasket on a busy week, and it sort of gave me an added boost in confidence to feel the muscle memory coming back on the route. All runs were either early morning or evening as well, providing some cool views of Grand Junction, and an added chillax factor. Yes, it keeps you on your toes to be on that curvy road in the dark, and one has to be alert, head-lamped and reflective-geared to do it safely. I'd say there's an added benefit to that as well. The focus is good, and maybe something that has been lacking in my running at times in the past few months.

I was aware of two 5Ks taking place locally on Saturday morning, and thought about doing one or the other. I wasn't sure how well I could race, though, after a busy week and quite a bit of up-and-down on the Monument. I decided to make a game-day decision, and had a very fun, relaxing night with some neighborhood runner friends. I hadn't intended to stay late or go costumed, but somehow I found myself throwing together a last-minute Maude Lebowski costume from The Big Lebowski.

I'm a huge Coen Brothers fan, it's one of my favorite movies they've done, and I'd wanted to do the "Gutterballs/Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)" scene's Maude viking costume for years. I didn't think about racing the next day, and didn't put pressure on myself to decide the night before. It wound up being a fairly late night, but I went home and slept like a log afterward.

Getting up around 7:15am, I was still totally undecided, dorking around for a few minutes on Facebook while drinking my coffee. There, I read that my friend Suzanne from up the road in Rifle would be coming down to run along with her new baby daughter (her first race). Besides thinking it would be good to do some racing speed work, I wanted to visit with them a bit. I finally decided what the hey, I should go and try out racing without a watch. I'd run the Holy Family School's 5K two years prior, and it was a well-organized, smaller race. We'd finally crossed over into our late fall/early winter crisp-cold weather in the past week or so, and it feels so good for racing.

I drove over just in time to register ($10 option if I didn't want a tee-shirt, since they were out of mediums-yay!), warm up briefly, and visit with Suzanne, her baby girl, and some of her fellow teachers/colleagues I'd met at other races. It felt strange to not have a Garmin, but it was sort of exciting to be winging it without having the option for even an occasional pace check, or glance down at my mile splits. A few people were costumed, but for the most part, the costumed/recreational running kids were waiting for the fun run after the 5K. Lining up just prior to 9am, we heard a runners prayer/blessing from one of the school's priests. I'm not Catholic, but the message about being able to come together in celebration of running and health really resonated regardless of one's faith or non-faith. I was standing in a sea of 10- to 12-year-old boys, and near a couple of the usual suspects at races in Grand Junction. A minute later, the start was announced and off we went.

Right away, many of the little boys shot out to the front of the pack, along with a few of the local men. Coming out of the school lot and onto the main road, I was running first woman but knew there were several fiercely competitive local ladies who were probably right behind me, and just starting to fire their engines. We turned into a residential neighborhood, ironically called "Paradise Hills"-they didn't feel like paradise at 5K pace, but I did at least feel like I was getting that "good burn" in the lungs and legs. This felt like a pace I could maintain and maybe pick up today.

My first need to pick up came pretty early. One of the ladies I've raced several times locally was soon right next to me, and beginning to pull ahead. I focused on shortening my stride and increasing my turnover, and managed to slide back ahead coming out of the neighborhood, but knew I'd have to keep it here and try to pick up even more speed. The whole time, it felt really bizarre to have no clue regarding my pace, but it actually felt a little freeing in a 5K. I've had issues with "second mile sag" at some 5K's, and this was just forcing me to be unaware of where I was on the course and just keep pushing. Somewhere near the end of this first mile, another familiar runner made her move past me and into the women's lead. I worked to increase my turnover as much as I possibly could. She was pulling away, but I felt like I was doing a good job of keeping up my pace, and picking it up a little here and there.

I passed one or two of the men in what must have been early second mile, and found myself still smack in the middle of a sea of boys. I couldn't believe they were still holding this pace; often, the younger kids go out like a shot and then fade. These guys were running strong, with about four ahead of me and two right behind. There seemed to be this almost comical "Dangit, I'm still running with these little guys," and "Dangit, why is our MOM still pacing with us?" energy that had us all hurtling through that second mile. I knew as well that the woman running third was really strong, and that I had to pick it up as much as possible now.

Making an uphill turn into the last mile, I was still with the boys, and trying to disconnect from the fact that I was, in fact, running uphill and hurting. I brought my gaze to about five feet in front of me and tried to run within that space. The gap between the first woman and I had widened, but it seemed like it wasn't quite as wide as it's been at other races. I wasn't sure how close the third woman was but just assumed it was CLOSE.

Soon, we were cresting the hill and could see the school ahead. Two of the boys in front of me started pulling away hard. I kicked it into the highest gear I could find, and started easing past the third boy who had been with them. It was obvious he was hitting a tough spot mentally and starting to let up a great deal. I didn't say that awful "almost there" that nobody wants to hear at this point in a race, but managed a "c'mon!" Crossing the street and turning the corner toward the finish at the school, I was still running second woman. I ran toward the finish full-out, and could hear feet closing in. Flying toward the finish chute, that boy who was starting to sag two minutes ago came through like a lightning bolt, crossing about a second ahead. I came in right behind him, and as I walked through the chute, the third woman came through, less than ten seconds back. We did the out-of-breath high fives, feeling that runner's high that I swear only comes after you've fully spent yourself.

I checked the table where the bottoms of bibs were being lined up by age group, and really couldn't quite believe my eyes-21:32, my best 5K in about two years, and I think probably 3rd best of all time if my recollection is right. All on a day when I wasn't tan, rested, and ready for 5K action. It was an age group win, and felt good after my Other Half cluster-run. The 5K in general has not been a consistent strong suit of mine, so to run with consistency at two of them in a row makes me think I ought to do more of the no watch/no watching the watch short distance racing.

The next day, I had a planned long run with Sandra, and this was to be our last prior to the Rim Rock Marathon. Yes, we'll do 15 or so next weekend, but this was kind of the big one before the taper. It was decided, since we've done a bunch of stuff on the first 5 miles of the course (with steadily climbing, curving road) that we would run the rest of the course, starting from Cold Shivers Point on the Monument, and running to the finish area at the James Robb State Park in Fruita. This was a roughly 21 mile route, and required some car logistics that took a bit of time in the morning, leaving my car in Fruita and riding up to Cold Shivers. It is the "flat" section of the course, but there's really nothing flat about it with some rolling upward for several miles before finally hitting the fun, fast descent off the Monument and onto Highway 340.

This would be another watch-free run, and a test run of sorts. I am pretty sure this will be my first watchless marathon ever, so this would be entirely on feel. I didn't feel much fatigue from the day before, and in fact, was kind of excited at the prospect of running really long on the race course. I was practicing with a different hydration strategy as well. I've mostly used the aid stations on marathon courses for the past two years, choosing to carry nothing. I don't like holding stuff while running, so what I was practicing with today was a waist pack spun around with the bottles/bottleholders in front. I thought this would annoy the heck out of me, but this set-up felt surprisingly good. I won't decide until right before the race, but think this system will be used to avoid slowdowns for fluids at the aid stations.

Chatting away for much of the run, Sandra and I were oblivious to our time and distance, but the pace felt good-kind of in that long run sweet spot with a gradual increase in pace coming down the Monument. We passed another runner going the other way whom we did not know. He knew what we were doing, though, and yelled out "See you in two weeks!" Though we mostly stayed where we should-against the traffic-there were a few blind curves where it just was safer to move into the other lane, especially with the very limited car traffic early on a Sunday.

Of course, on one of these shifts, the next vehicle to 'round a corner heading east was a park police vehicle. He blinked his lights at us and slowed to a stop. Crap, we're going to get a ticket. "Training for the marathon?" he asked. "Yes sir, getting in our long run," we answered. I thought he was going to read us the riot act for being on the wrong side of the road, but he just reminded us that we needed to run in the correct place. We agreed and did let him know we'd been doing that most of the way, but shifting over on some of these scary blind curves. He was very cool and understood we weren't just going out of our way to be rogue runners, smiled, and waved us on. Phew-no citation today. I know they can't have us flagrantly flying in the face of the law, but I think the various agencies on this route are good about accommodating runners, and not coming down too hard on us for shifting a bit on that road when we can't see around a blind curve.

Getting off the Monument, we had our last two mile stretch down to the park in Fruita. I was kind of stoked to know that we were already 19 miles in. The time had flown by and I felt tired now but there was no struggle to the run. I couldn't have hoped for a better weekend of running. When we hit the park, it was time to enjoy some tangerines, water, and coconut water. It had warmed up, and the sun was glistening on the water near the finish. Checking our approximate start and finish times, we were pleased to have dialed in on a near perfect long run training pace.

Once we'd refueled, it was time to drive back up to Sandra's car, and stop off for her small bag or "aid station" tucked behind a wall and bush at one of the scenic overlooks. When we pulled up, we discovered someone had taken her bag. It hadn't been greatly concealed, but that's just not something people tend to do up there-especially for a bag that just had water, gatorade, and an old race shirt. LAME. Sandra wasn't that upset, though, and said "next time I'll hide it better!"

Now, I'm starting to geek out a bit about race day. I'm a little tired today on my day off, but generally feel pretty good. My S-Caps are ordered; I think I have a plan for what I'm wearing that day. I'm going to continue to run on the Monument until race day, but just taper off on the overall distance. I was feeling a slight lack of confidence about how my conditioning was for race day, so the weekend's good running came at a perfect time. Or, maybe it was just dressing up like a viking and playing competitive Halloween puzzle assembly or having balloon blowing and popping races that did it. Yes...this is what competitive runner types do for fun. Either way...the FUN was there, and it made the run that much better.

Ray Of Light: Run To Whitewater (18 miles from Grand Junction to Whitewater...The Pretty Way)

2011-10-24T14:11:00.014-06:00

And I feel like I just got home
And I feel

After my ten minute pity-party for my ugly running fest through the canyons in Moab, I was already thinking ahead to making the most of my little bit of time between now and the Rim Rock Marathon, with the Winter Sun 10K and February's Moab RedHot 55K in my head. After a few days off following The Other Half, I resumed running with a nice sunset "recovery medium-long run" with Sandra, one of my frequent running partners, and another shorter recovery-ish run with Laura, my early morning headlamp show running partner for about two years now. The good thing that came out of the crappy race was that it lit my fire to bounce back, really get accountable about my time spent running, and enjoy the process of getting ready for the bigger races. What worked so well for me last fall with my string of PR's was just running a lot, but for enjoyment, and picking out routes and courses that would make me WANT to run a lot but still provide a challenge and progress in my running.

One of the key components to good training then had been back-to-back weekend runs, typically consisting of a long road run on Saturdays and a medium-long to long trail run on Sunday. I hadn't done this for awhile, but I know my running improved at all distances with it as a regular part of my running schedule. While this would have been ideal in my head this past weekend, Saturday was just too jam-packed with triple-booked kid stuff and my stuff to even consider that option. Sandra and I decided we'd do an easy up-and-down early Saturday on Serpent's Trail, at the base of the Colorado National Monument, and then something for a long run on Sunday. We did it around 5:30 on Saturday, and it's amazing how this run has gone from being really painful the first few times to something that one craves, and enjoys. It's still hard, but I can feel the strength that comes from just doing it, and practicing that continuous climb followed by "how fast can I go in the dark?" descent back down.

We'd kicked around running on Rim Rock Drive (the road that runs across the Colorado National Monument, from Grand Junction to Fruita) as a long run, looking to get in a good 18-20 miles, on Sunday, but left it open. Some time Saturday, though, we started thinking seriously about one of the few Mesa Monument Striders run/races I have not done-the "Run to Whitewater," starting at the Bangs Canyon staging area, and running the Tabeguache Trail for 18 miles to a trailhead in Whitewater, Colorado. I'd never done this run before, and it's probably one of the most sparsely attended races. It's a self-supported gig, crossing slick rock, dirt, and rock fields which vary widely in condition from year to year. No aid stations, no Rock and Roll Marathon bands. You have to pay attention to the course instructions, and keep yourself going in the right direction because no one will be flagging or directing for you out here. The beauty of this event is the beauty of this event, though. It's a trail that's a little less populated than a lot of other ones in this area. There's also that thrill of going point-to-point, like the Imogene Pass Run, "Seventeen miles from Ouray, Colorado, to Telluride, Colorado, the hard way." And, as I've learned, the Beer Cooler of Awesomeness and real food always seem to appear at the end of these no-frills running club deals. When it looked like we could make pretty easy car shuttling arrangements between Sandra, me, and Ray, another local racing regular, I said yes, let's do this thing.

I'd been up later than normal the previous night, attending a small gathering with some friends (hosted by Julie, who was one of my 24 Hours of Moab Dirty Girls teammates, and her husband Mike, ultrarunner and Mad Dog team runner at that same relay) just south of town in Olathe, Colorado. I'd eaten dinner before heading down with three of my kids for this fire pit and Dr. Seuss reading party, eating what amounted to a second dinner, and also partaking in some peach moonshine provided by Bryan and Elizabeth, fellow runners and generally outside-type folks who came here by way of Kentucky. This could have been a recipe for disaster, but I slept like a log for a good six hours. Getting up in the morning, I didn't even bother to look at the weather forecast. My muscles were still sore from last weekend's race, so I figured I'd go with some lightweight tights and a lightweight tech shirt, even though I knew it would probably be pretty warm by the time we were wrapping up this race.

I picked up Sandra and headed out to Whitewater, which is straight south out of town on Highway 50. We had rough directions from Ray on where to park, but were not sure where exactly to go. As it turned out, he was only a few minutes back, so we just pulled off and waited for him, following his truck over to the lot where we'd finish later in the day. We left his truck there, and shuttled back to the Bangs Canyon staging area in town in my car.

As we pulled into the lot about half an hour before the starting time, we saw several other runners and the regular race director for this gig there in the parking lot. Signing in, I was beginning to regret my choice of tights. It was clearly going to be warm today. Upon pulling out my Garmin which has been duct-taped to my wrist for two races now, I realized that it was just about time to have a proper burial for the thing. I zeroed out the previous run, but then couldn't get any of the buttons to work. Oh well...I think I knew this was coming. I tucked it in one of the pouches of my Nathan pack in case the thing decided to work at some point, and I wanted to calculate elapsed time. Sandra and I both agreed we'd just treat it like a training run, and try to run on feel without regard to pace and time. It was a brand-new course for both of us so might as well keep ourselves guessing.

I'd remembered that very few people ran this race the year before when I'd gotten the club newsletter with results. As I found out later, there were a whopping seven runners the previous year, and the course had been sloppy as hell. As starting time approached, I was surprised to see that there appeared to be about two dozen runners here. It was a beautiful, crisp, cool, and bright Western Colorado morning, though. Most runners were folks I knew, and the few unfamiliar faces were quickly introduced. One of the runners showed up about two minutes before the start, which was held off long enough for him to make a quick pit stop (one of the great perks about small, local deals where everybody knows your name). Once he was out, Kim, one of the co-race directors, said "okay, you guys can start now!" as our official start.

For a minute or two, everyone was fairly together, but we quickly strung out across the early ups and downs over slick rock and rocky trails. This was to be a good training run for us, though, and we'd never seen the course, so it was just about settling in to the run now. I was kind of tired from the previous weekend, and putting in a good effort over the past few days in training, but things felt pretty good. We worked our way over some pretty regular climbs, took in the view, and I marveled at how freeing it was to have no clue on my time or pace. Five years of running, and this was my first race, other than a Thanksgiving prediction run in '07, when I would be running without any gauge of pace or time.

In the early miles, my body felt kind of slow to warm up to the running thing, but it was waking up, little by little. There was quite a bit of climbing in the early miles; I'd say that this is my area of running that is always in a "state of progress." We were moving along at what felt like a consistent pace, though. We chattered about upcoming races, past events and runs, Zombie Prom (which I said was Sandra's official descent into running madness...skipping a local event she'd attended with her husband for several years in a row in order to have a more productive and run-filled weekend), and anything else that came to mind.

Now it was definitely warming up. Shorts would have definitely been a better move for me, but I was getting some cooling from rolling up the sleeves on my tech shirt. I'm not sure if there's any science to it, but I'd slathered myself in sunscreen so I didn't feel like my face or head were overheating and burning, and was only mildly bothered by wearing those lightweight tights. We hit what felt like was about the hour mark, and were kind of rambling through more narrow, tree-lined trails now. Passing another runner for the first time, he said to us "Oh, I was wondering where you were. I thought you stopped for lunch." Hehe, wise guy. We saw our friend Ray,who had car-shuttled with us, on several occasions up ahead. It seemed like every time we got a little close, though, he'd be out of sight when we crested the next ridge.

Continuing on our way, I kept wondering to myself why I'd never run this race. It was so pristine and quiet out here; we'd occasionally pass cool landmarks, like an ancient, flipped jeep that had been used for target practice, and at one point, there was a funny voice in the trees behind us. It wound up being the mountaineering partner of the guy who was now running right behind us, and who happened to be camping out there. We kind of laughed about the "talking bush," and moved along until we hit a bit of a crossroads with two different directional options. We'd been told to keep meandering right after one initial left, but the way that it seemed we needed to head was toward the left. We decided to wait for the guy behind us to see which way he thought was right because we just didn't feel like getting lost.

When he caught up to us a few minutes later, we looked for tracks on both trails, and just were not sure. It seemed like there were more tracks on the left trail, though. Coming back to the crossroads, I finally noticed the post near the left trail with an arrow and "Tabeguache" on it. We were relieved to confirm the correct route, and headed on our way. I was running in front, Sandra a few feet back, and our trail buddy behind her.

After about a mile, and moving into a rocky downhill section, I heard the distinctive "thump" of body hitting trail. Turning around, I saw that it was the guy. He'd eaten it pretty good. We asked if he was okay, and he replied with an "Oh, I'm fine," as he picked himself up and began to run again. Sandra and I kept moseying along with his "all good." Soon, he wasn't right behind us anymore. We didn't know if there were any other runners behind him and were a little concerned at how he was doing, but he also one of those old trail runners you know will make it in one way or the other.

Faster than the speeding light she's flying
Trying to remember where it all began
She's got herself a little piece of heaven
Waiting for the time when Earth shall be as one

The sun was still shining bright, and lighting up the bright autumn colors on trees near and far. We'd get views here and there of Mt. Garfield, the Grand Mesa, and back toward Grand Junction, and it felt pretty sweet to see how far we'd already come on foot. There's something cool about these point-to-point races that are off the beaten path. We were gathering a little bit of momentum and starting to loosen up into the run now, and it felt pretty good. We still didn't have a clue on time or pace. I was imagining, since we weren't really "racing" today, that we might be on pace for about a four hour finish. It didn't matter much, though. We hit a point that felt to me like it was probably about ten miles, and rather than wanting it to be all over, I really just wanted to take in every bit of the run and hard work. Our next encounter with another runner was somewhere in this stretch-a guy who came bounding along and said "Boy, am I happy to see you guys! I took a wrong turn for a mile or two" before running on ahead.

We were getting more frequent downhill and flat-type sections now, and it felt good to open up and fly down little stretches. My other "area of progress" on the trail stuff has been the opposite problem of sometimes building up enough speed that I loose all control. This leads to those rolled ankles, falls, and awesome bruising or other body marks. It was feeling okay today, though, with no out-of-control hurtling down rock fields. We kept gathering a bit more speed here and there, backing off a bit at times on the climbs, but staying consistent in the effort.

Coming over one of the hills, we passed another runner, this time one of the ladies we'd seen at the start area. Sandra knew her from one of the local outdoor stores. We said hello and moved along. Not too far up, we encountered Tom, who is kind of a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to outdoor activity. He runs, puts on all the cross country ski races with the nordic council here, does adventure races (one of which involved a mechanical bull ride for one stage earlier this year), and anything else outside that seems fun. He was running more slowly and carefully than he normally would, and seemed to be backing off to just finish without hurting himself in a tired state. We said hello, and he said "save a beer for me!" as we ran along.

Next, we saw a funny, out-of-place looking landmark we'd been told to watch for-some fenced off retaining ponds that kind of look like a random tennis court in the middle of a Colorado wilderness area. Sure enough, there was the tennis court oasis. We laughed at how much it did look like a tennis court on the approach, and kept moving along. It was nice that I'd started this thing a little sleepy and not really warmed up, but just kept warming up and feeling stronger as we continued.

Coming over the top of another hill, we saw a guy on the edge of a trail with a jug of water. I recognized him right away as one of the local running club's older, long-standing members. "Need some water? Trail mix?" he shouted as we came down. Sweet! An aid station of sorts? I was still pretty good on water, but I happily accepted a top-off. I figured it would be good to have a little something extra to rehydrate. Sandra had a smaller flask in her hydration pack, and was near empty. She refilled hers, and we thanked him for being out there. "Only 3.9 miles left!" he told us. "Some sections you'll have to hike, but mostly runnable." Off we went again. Turning left toward Grand Junction, it was awesome to see how far we'd come. We were running through more open-type space now that kind of rolled nicely but didn't climb a ton.

And I feel
Quicker than a ray of light she's flying
Quicker than a ray of light I'm flying

Finally, we could see that we were near the road where we'd left our vehicle to take back to town. Our pace may not have been blazing, but it sort of felt like we were flying now with the finish in sight. We came over one last hill and around a bend, and could see right down to the lot. They could see up to us too, and started hooting and hollering. This was great. We weren't expecting a cheering section, and it was cool to descend the final switchbacks from above to reach them. Getting to the edge of the trail and hitting the last bit of road, we weren't sure if we were supposed to get on the road and just come to them the easy way, or if there was some trail on the other side of the street into the lot. They saw our confusion and waved us down the road, and in we came. As it turned out, we were well under four hours in our fun long run on trails, coming in at around 3:43.

I went back to the vehicle and changed my clothes, grabbing some camping chairs for the finish area. There was a full spread of pasta, bread, zucchini chips, grapes, water and Gatorade, and of course, the Beer Cooler of Awesomeness. As we sat down with our post-drink refreshments, stories were swapped about wrong turns and getting lost. Turns out that we'd done well to not go totally off-course, and find our way in that moment of confusion. Several runners ran a little bit out of their way, and our friend Bryan wound up getting so off-course that he decided to turn around and go back to the start. Another runner, a previous winner of the Leadville Trail 100 with a streak of about 19 finishes in a row there (sans pacers), added a bunch of extra miles somewhere, and wound up coming in behind us due to his extra long run. Someone yelled "Ah, here comes Kirk and that walking stick!" and we hooted and hollered for him as he finished. Most runners continued to chat, eat, and rehydrate on various beverages until all were in, and then hung out and talked a little longer on this beautiful late October day. Usually, I'm the one saying "let's go do X, Y or Z race or run today." This was a day when I was really thankful that others suggested something totally different, because it wound up being one of those days when I re-charged and hit the old re-set button.

I'm looking at a week ahead of solid running and training, and then will figure out some sort of two week taper plan for the Rim Rock Marathon. Upon thinking about what went wrong at The Other Half (and there was a LOT), I think I need to be careful that I'm not building or doing some sort of reverse taper in these last few weeks. I may have gotten a bit overexuberant leading up to that race, and just didn't taper enough. It was just one of those days, too, but I'm going to make sure I fix the things for Rim Rock that stand out as things in my power to change. If I make the most of my preparation, then I'll be ready for those things that are not in my power to change.

I Was In The Right Place, But It Must've Been The Wrong Time: The 2011 Other Half Marathon

2011-10-17T07:42:00.012-06:00

Or, sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes, well, it eats you. Pick any expression along those lines, and visualize that kid meandering around, physically and mentally checked out in the "party at the moon tower" scene from the classic movie Dazed and Confused, and you've got my race at The Other Half. Upon going through four years of race results, this was my second slowest half marathon ever, and goes onto the training log as one of the worst races I've ever run.

I knew I wasn't quite in the shape I was in a year ago, but between my recent training and most recent race result at the Anna Banana 5K, I had optimism that I could run this race well. It is one of my all-time favorite races, and I've run it well ever year for whatever my level of training and experience has been at the time. Experience is something I have on this course, too, running this course three times already since starting to run in 2007. There was no reason NOT to expect a good race, or to anticipate that things would get as ugly as they did on the run from the Dewey Bridge to Sorrel River Ranch outside of Moab, Utah.

Warming up for the race, things felt pretty good. I was a little bit punchy with race day energy, and I got up to race pace with no problems during warm-up, and even overshot a little bit, needing to slow down and keep that pace in check. I'd had some rice for breakfast, which goes down nice and easy for me. My body felt a little tired, but that wasn't unusual. Often, it's just that my body's not warmed up and in a running rhythm. I've run plenty of other races when I felt like this beforehand, but the second that starting gun sounded, the body and mind would slide easily into racing gear.

The weather was not too hot and not too cold-kind of perfect, really. Lining up for the start, I put myself in position with the other 7:xx/mile racers, where I'd paced and finished in my previous two runs at The Other Half. The traditional Taiko Dan drummers started sounding the call to start from the back of the truck, rhythmically pounding as runners moved toward the Dewey Bridge. The sun was rising over the red cliffs behind us, warming us and lighting the start area. Ranna, the race director, got on the megaphone for final pre-race comments. I laughed when her final words to runners, "....and you know what's waiting for you at the finish line?" were met with a a loud, resounding "BEEEEEEEER!" response from the crowd. It was time to go. I lined up with my finger on the start button of the Garmin that was duct-taped together on my wrist (no, I'm lazy, I haven't called Garmin yet to ask for a replacement strap), and then off we went.

Starting off, I found myself in just about the same position as the prior two years early on-in about the top dozen or so women. Things felt pretty good. I was loose, and just kind of went with that, trying to run relaxed but with a high cadence and short strides. I looked down at my Garmin, and was displeased to see that it was freaking out, starting and stopping itself even though I hadn't touched it since the start. There was clearly a problem with the internal workings of the thing, and that start button, since it had also jammed up at the race two weeks prior. Oh well...not the end of the world, I told myself. The guy running the stopwatch at the end of the first mile was shouting out "7:25....7:26......." as I approached and came through that mile marker. Good-first mile is done, and about where I'd wanted and anticipated being.

The next two miles weren't blazing, but they weren't terrible, either. I slowed down slightly but wasn't far off the mark. I wasn't feeling very springy, though.

Mile 2: 7:32

Mile 3: 7:32

Well, this wasn't quite like last year when I was regularly doing a Saturday long run on roads and a hilly medium-long run on Sundays. I was beginning to lose momentum in a way that felt like I had to fight for it because I wouldn't get it back if I started dropping off my pace too much and too early.

Mile 4: 7:53

Mile 5: 7:49

Oooof. I was starting to feel not good. At ALL. I was vaguely nauseous, which made no sense. I wasn't on any "run 'til you puke" kind of 5K race pace, and although it was a warm October day, it certainly didn't qualify as hot. This wasn't good news so early in the race. I usually find myself in "exquisite pain" on the hills later in the race, but the first seven miles stretch has typically been a place for me to be uncomfortable but strong, and pushing my pace.

Mile 6: 8:10

Mile 7: 8:23

I was really fighting now, and we were only beginning the hills on this challenging course. That nauseous feeling was welling up inside me; my legs felt heavy, and steps flat-footed. I started focusing my attention on the scenery around me, or the space immediately in front of me, trying to disconnect as much as I could from what was now an overwhelming urge to stop running. At least at the Canyonlands Half, there was a little bit of humor in the whole situation with the hot wind blowing up the canyon. Today, I was plain frustrated, and didn't know what the hell my problem was. I felt like I was moving through quicksand.

Mile 8: 9:50

That above split is correct. I was on the verge of a DNF in this mile, with that nauseous feeling growing, and people flying past me right and left. At one point, I took a step that was on the verge of turning into a walk on the uphill, but something in my brain screamed "DON'T DO IT. You won't be able to get going again if you do." I pushed on, and attempted to get some turnover happening on the flats and downhills. I was merely digging myself out of a hole, though, and not gaining momentum.

Mile 9: 8:40

We hit the next hill climb, and again, I just wanted to lay down and be done. This wasn't an option so I played the "disconnect your brain" game, looking around, and keeping in mind that it's a gift to get to run here. I needed to pull out some energy from somewhere, and it was going to have to come from around me today.

Mile 10: 9:17

I was moving in the entirely wrong direction again on pace, and moving really ugly, for lack of a better description. No natural flow over the hills, the ever-present nausea, and legs in quicksand. What's sad is that the year prior, when I set my half marathon PR on this course, I felt bulletproof. I'd been in that really uncomfortable zone the whole time, but felt strong in every way a runner can feel that way in a race. I'd spent lots of time at altitude and on hilly training routes this summer and fall, and had taken two days off to rest prior to this race. I wasn't going to let this race day funk get the best of me. NO.

Mile 11: 8:47

And then....the lovely sound of those Moab Taiko Dan drummers. I fought the fade and pushed toward the rhythm of the drums. If you've never seen or heard this group, it's an amazing thing to hear it echoing through the canyon, and then to come upon this group of women and men, raising these huge sticks high and coming down on huge drums. It's always at a cadence that causes one to pick it up just a little bit, or fight to hang on if struggling. They pulled me up to the top of that last hill, and I had to give them a little clapping in time to the drums as a thank you for the mojo when I didn't have any.

Mile 12: 8:54

This has always been my favorite section of the course...a rapid "bombs away" drop, and then long, curving horseshoe route to the finish at Sorrel River Ranch. I needed to hammer in with whatever was left today. I was clenched up all over by now, gritting my teeth, and feeling crappy, but working to flip that "faster you run, faster you're done" switch. This was where I locked in that NYC Marathon qualifying time by the skin of my teeth last year, and I pushed to find that effort.

Mile 13: 8:07

I could see the time clock now. I hadn't been watching my overall time on the Garmin between it acting up, and knowing that it would only be discouraging in that second half of the race. It was pretty discouraging to look up and see a 1:49 on the time clock, though. With previous times of 1:58, 1:41, and 1:36:xx, this was nowhere near what I'd realistically hoped or expected to run. There was some definite anger in me as I threw myself toward the finish with a final split of 7:37 for the last .1, Wonky Garmin final time of 1:49:08, and official race time of 1:49:31. In other words, in the time it took me to run the whole thing last year, I was barely past 11 miles this year, and fighting the urge to throw in the towel the entire time.

After the race, I just lay down on the grass for a good ten minutes. What the hell happened out there? I'd expected the best, didn't start too fast, and seemed to have all the components in place lately for a real shot at another PR. Sure, those don't always happen, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd spend eight miles feeling gross and wanting to stop the entire time. Racing IS very fun to me, though...I love it. My friend Ilana from Durango was kind enough to go grab me some water, so while I lay on the grass, I just closed my eyes and kind of flushed out all the pissed off-ness, frustration, and tense feelings.

By the time I was having that water, the "shake it off" was setting in. I found my way to other runner friends, and to the 3.2 Utah beer line. Sipping a beer, in the sun, by the river in this beautiful spot is sort of awesome, definitely took away most of the sting of what was a total mess of a race for me. The nausea and sick feelings had subsided, and the food at the finish area, pretty much entirely from local producers, tasted about as good as anything I've had to eat. Watching familiar and unfamiliar faces collect awards, it was cool to realize I was hanging out with runners from twelve years old all the way up to the fabulous Julia Barrett, now close to 80 years old and still getting out there to cover this course. I joked that at least I should get a door prize out of this day, and we were surprised with a trivia game on top of the regular prize drawings. When it was asked "Who is the Masters course record holder, and three-time winner of this race?" my hand shot up. If you live on the Western Slope of Colorado, and run, you've seen Bernie Boettcher a race or ten, and know that he's won most of them at least a time or two. I got a pretty sweet pair of Sock Guy socks for my quick thinking, which seemed to be the only thing moving quickly today for me. I would have rather raced for hardware, for sure....but hey. Really awesome socks.

In the end, my result wound up placing me 12th out of 192 in my age group. I will fully own up to playing the "if I'd run last year's time this year" game in the age group for all of about three minutes....but the fact is that I DIDN'T so it's a moot point. You race who shows up on the day you show up, in the conditions you get, with what you've got. I wanted to win the age group but today I was 12th.

Where to go from here? The Rim Rock Marathon is coming up quickly. I'm going to take a lesson from The Other Half, and NOT put pressure on myself to move up in time or placement, but just work hard between now and then. No cramming for race day, but no slumping or bailing from workouts either. The real focus is going to be the Winter Sun 10K in December. I am a weirdo who likes that distance, but doesn't get to race road 10K's before often because they don't exist in great quantity anywhere. It's a net downhill course, and kind of consequences-free when it comes to running aggressively. By the time that painful finish at the track comes, it's okay, because, hey, it's just "one easy lap." Or something. This is the third of the annual Moab Half Marathon races every year, too, and somewhat of an annual tradition. Then, there's the Moab RedHot 55K in February. I'm not an ultrarunner, and had an experience that exceeded my expectations last year in running for fun there. This year, I think I'm doing "fun plus," and am going to plan hill and trail training with a faster result in mind. When I have problems and tough spots, I will just imagine drums and beer awaiting me at the finish.

Every Day Is Like Sunday

2011-10-14T10:08:00.008-06:00

It's certainly not going to be silent and gray, but I am SO excited to trudge back over pebbles and sand around Moab before showing up at the starting line at the site of the historic Dewey Bridge.

It's Other Half weekend, and the pre-race scramble and taper madness have begun. This marks run #4 at the race for me (every year but 2008, when I ran my first marathon on the weekend following the scheduled race day). My friends have heard me talk ad nauseum about this race, but there's just no arguing that there's a little something special about this race. It's not a "flat and fast" course by definition. Something about that, along with the beauty of the course, really frees one up to run free, and with enjoyment and inspiration.

Enough of the deep thinking, meditative stuff, though...never have I seen a race medal quite like the one being offered at the finish of The Other Half this year. Typically, my party line on finisher race medals have been very neutral; I'd rather have a well-organized race first and foremost. Give me the ability to open things, and create the race medal equivalent of a multi-tool, though, and we're now we're talking. Aron Ralston may have been able to free himself in less than 127 Hours, AND enjoyed a refreshing beverage, with this. (Okay, I'm totally kidding, but this is a sweet medal.)

(image via Moab Half Marathon's Facebook fan page)

Local Fruit, And The Magic of Duct Tape: The Anna Banana 5K Race Report

2011-10-04T16:43:00.010-06:00

It's been awhile since I last ran a 5K, let alone a decent (for me) 5K. Since beginning to run several years ago, I've spent most summers doing a number of short distance races. Between focusing on running longer and higher this summer, and several local races being canceled or falling on weekends when I had prior commitments, I realized that it had been a good five months since my last attempt to run fast over a short distance. Some people think of 5K's as "easy" because it's over a shorter distance and get impressed by long distances. Well, I'm here to say that the long, slow runs are the ones that feel a lot better. To me, anyway. I don't recall ever feeling like I wanted to hack up a lung after a good 20-miler. On the other hand, I've never been able to go as fast in speed work as I do racing, so it's the perfect way for me to knock out good speed work sessions. Doing said speed work at an annual race that is near and dear to a lot of people locally, runners or not, and it's a no-brainer.

The Anna Banana 5K citizen race and high school cross country meet take place on the pathways and trails where I started as an adult onset runner at age 34. They commemorate and celebrate the life of Anna Janowitz, a student and runner at an area high school who died in a car accident on the way to cross country practice nine years ago. Her sister sings the national anthem at the race every year, her family, former coaches and classmates are still very much involved in the race, and her high school's art department still makes the coveted ceramic bananas that serve as age group and overall awards at this race. Money from the race generates scholarship money for a number of cross country or track student athletes from area high schools every year with at least a 3.0 GPA. Out of tragedy came this incredibly positive event where you see the full spectrum of participants, from young to old, and recreational walkers and hikers to some of the most competitive local runners in the area. Yep, it's safe to say that everyone who shows up for this race wants to put his or her best foot forward, and make it count.

This marked the fifth time I've shown up for this race. I've run it four times on my own, and it was my first ever solo 5K in 2007. I ran it in about 25:55, and thought I was going to hurl at the end. It was also the race that started my Boston Marathon pipe dream, because I ran it at exactly the qualifying marathon pace for my age group. I had no idea how I was going to get from 3.1 to 26.2 at that pace, but that's where the ridiculous goal started. The next year, I ran it with my oldest daughter, who decided at the last second that she wanted me to run with her as she paced toward the goal of one of those ceramic bananas. We ran about 29 minutes together, and she still hangs that banana for her 10-and-under age group win in her room even though she's moved on to being focused on dance. The next two years were good for me but not PR races, though last year it was the only race in which I was the top woman overall, which felt pretty good. If I could choose just one local race at which to do that, this is it.

This year, I had a big question mark in my head because I hadn't raced short in so long, and have been kind of been freewheeling in my running for a good part of the last year. I was focused on a good race, though, and ready to take my best swing at the thing last Saturday.

Getting up on Saturday, I was encouraged by the cool temperatures and lack of wind. It's been warm and breezy other years but this was nice. My Garmin was charged up and I debated leaving it at home, which would have been a first for racing. I still hadn't replaced the strap that broke off in some unknown location prior to Imogene. I decided I would go with the oh-so-classy move of duct-taping it on. I wasn't going to be a slave to the Garmin but thought it would be helpful to check my mile splits. I rigged it to my wrist and headed down to the Connected Lakes section of the James Robb State Park. Initially heading to the spot that has been the registration area every year, I found the place deserted. Heading back toward my car, I learned that we had the first major change in the course since my first time doing this race. The course was going to be more of a true cross country course, and would allow runners to pass through the start/finish area midrace. A change will do you good, as Sheryl Crow says. I liked the idea of covering less pavement, and enjoying a more spectator-friendly course.

Lining up for the start, I felt a little bit fatigued, but I never put much stock into how I'm feeling beforehand. Sometimes, things open up and feel good at race time, and sometimes they don't, but I try not to beat myself in my head before the thing's even started. Anna's sister sang the national anthem (and I wondered if it was wrong for me to think that she had a totally bitchin' pair of boots on as she started), and I closed my eyes, trying to relax. A few minutes later, we were off. At the starting horn, I slapped "start" on my Garmin three times before it finally started ticking off the seconds. I tried to not let it distract me and finally got it going.

Right away, a small pack of men and handful of women were ahead of me. I focused on increasing my turnover early, and tried to push steadily ahead without dodging right and left, and moving past runners without side-to-side action. We turned off the dirt road onto pavement and headed down that road, eventually making the sharp right turn across rocks and onto the cement of the riverfront trail. Oh, man, it doesn't feel good to boomerang yourself across those hard rocks, but it's just a small stretch and then a chance to hammer downhill for a bit. I passed a few runners here, and could see two women not too far ahead of me.

High schooler runners arriving for the meet dotted the course, shouting encouragement and motivation. I'm used to, and enjoy our club runs which are largely without spectators, but come on, we all enjoy a little bit of this from time to time. Coming through the start for the first time, I was probably about 10-20 seconds off the two women. I don't have a history of being able to "kick" in 5K's, but was determined to catch them and not sag my second mile.

Mile 1 (or thereabouts...since my Charlie Brown Christmas tree Garmin didn't want to start): 6:57

The second lap now turned left down the road from the gravel road, and then hopped onto the gravel trail around the Connected Lakes. It's pretty flat but continously curves to the left, moving around one lake and then between two. I was gaining on the women now. I wasn't sure if I could hold on if I passed them, but knew I had to go for it without any comfort or breaks. I moved past the first lady, and about thirty seconds later, I passed the second lady. Increasing my turnover as much as possible, I worked to build a little space but didn't look back to see where they were. We rounded the edge of the second lake in the shade of trees on a dirt trail (beautiful), and then hopped back onto an asphalt section of paved riverfront trail, running flat- to slightly uphill now.

Mile 2: 7:28

Okay, now I was in "run the mile like it's your last" mode. Oh, yeah. It really was the last mile today. My breathing felt what I call "5K good"- the lungs were burning but I wasn't slowing down. I knew those ladies, and other runners, were likely not far behind, and pushed hard coming into that sharp, rocky curve from the opposite direction. The last stretch was now flat- to slightly downhill and turned over the legs as fast as I could, trying to do that relax/fall asleep in the head thing so I wouldn't think too hard about how much this hurt. The 5K, for me, is all about seeing how hard I can push and trick myself into running when I'm not thinking so hard about it.

Mile 3: 7:10

Turning left back onto the dirt and toward the finish, I could hear feet behind me, and pushed but to no avail. Someone was moving past. As it turned out, it was not one of the women but some guy who came flying through, finishing just ahead. I held on, though, for second woman overall, 27th overall out of about 168 runners, and first in my age group at what my post-race time card listed as 22:07. I say post-race time card because when I stopped my watch, I didn't REALLY stop it. In addition to being duct-taped together for this race, the start/stop button had stuck in the "on" position at the start after several failed attempts to start it, and now would not shut off. Picking and prying at the button didn't make it come unstuck. When my friend Sandra came through (her second 5K ever, under 24 minutes, and what I think was a top- 10 or 12 finish), she was able to help me unpry the duct tape, and then after awhile I was finally able to dig at it the right way to stop the clock.

When awards time came, a number of the local race regulars, whom I like to refer to as the Usual Suspects, managed to collect hardware-the coveted ceramic bananas. As friends took out their phones and cameras, and it was suggested that we all gather with our banana medals, I made the totally unwitty remark that we should be a "bunch of bananas" for a group shot of all of us who had placed. Luckily, nobody sent me out of town on a rail, and the bunch of bananas, spanning fifty years in age, got together for a few post-race shots. It was yet again another positive experience at the Anna Banana citizen race. Since I'd been planning on it anyway, and was also more or less boxed in with my car near the new start and finish area, I stuck around for the high school races. There were some serious speedsters there, but it was cool to see how many kids of all speeds had come from 20 different high schools.

(winners of the high school Boys and Girls Races...both from higher altitude mountain communities)

Anna's not here on this earth anymore, but her positive presence was all around today. I'm looking forward to coming back in pursuit of local fruit for many years to come, but above all, to celebrate a life by getting out to live some life.

Stand and Walk (It's A Long Way To Fall): The 38th Annual Imogene Pass Run Race Report

2011-09-14T10:10:00.020-06:00

It's taken me a few days to formulate thoughts for a race report. And, because I'm a fan of theme music, it took me a few days to figure out the correct soundtrack to the race this year. Blues Traveler was a big part of last year's report, so an encore appearance seemed entirely appropriate beyond the way the fact that the song feels like it was written and paced just for Imogene.

Thunder

Don't scare me at all

Lightning

Well just a little

Swing number four at the Imogene Pass Run finally came last weekend. It was inevitable. Three years wasn't enough to convince me to just quit while I was behind or face-first and pointing downhill on a scree field. Looking at it by the time clock, it was another average performance by an average trail runner. (Wo)man does not run by time clock alone, though, and in almost every area that mattered to me, this was a breakthrough year.

Late last week, the pre-race chatter kicked off with some somewhat OCD weather-watching. As the week went on, the predictions were moving increasingly toward a chance of rain, snow and thunderstorms the night before the race, and on race morning. I packed for just about everything. Wear shorts in rain and snow? Well, maybe some especially badass trail runners do this. In fact, I know they do. I'm now to the point of being half-fast, so I was leaning toward tights in what seemed like could be a race of epic weather.

When I got a phone call from my friend Butch on Friday afternoon saying that it was not just raining, but hailing and thundering in Ouray, I just sort of laughed it off, but surpringly did not have even the slightest sense of panic or worry. I picked up my friend and first-time IPR runner Sandra from her job at a downtown bank, and as we drove toward Ouray, we could see weather ahead(pic by Sandra..I was not driving and taking pictures). We just kind of laughed it off, figured we'd have some good stories to tell if this thing turned into "Abominable Snowman Run '11," and made some plans for dinner.

Arriving in Ouray shortly after 5, we were pleasantly surprised that we were arriving to find the calm after the storm. The clouds were quite literally parting, the air damp and pleasantly cool. The weather had beaten the earth into submission earlier, but now it was almost spookily quiet. We did dinner, visited with friends at the Ouray Brewery, laid out our gear, soaked in the hot tub at our motel, as is now pre-race tradition, and attempted to crash out for a good night of sleep.

Pressure

It ain't worth a dime

And your wounds

They'll all heal in time

When I woke up in the morning, the first thing I did was step outside to see if it was raining, snowing, or if the remnants of any stormy weather lingered. After predictions of up to a 70% chance of rain and snow, I was pleasantly surprised again to see that the ground was damp and dewy, but we were NOT in the midst of a blizzard or anything else. It was cool, overcast, and pleasant. My trail rash from the previous weekend's race at Mary's Loop was healing up, but I like the way my compression tights and shirt feel. I figured they'd also give me an extra degree of confidence in covering up those scabs, keeping worry out of my head over potentially taking a spill and re-opening them. I opted for tights, compression shirt, compression socks, and my Honey Badger iron-on tech shirt made two weeks prior with some members of the local running club. I was wearing my INOV8 trail shoes for the first time in this race as well. They'd been great in training and now I would finally get to test them out in the race.

I went to get my Garmin from the charger, and discovered my glitch for this mission. Part of the band had broken off and I wasn't going to be able to wear it. I'm not sure how this happened, or why I didn't notice it the night before, but surprisingly didn't care a bit. I wasn't planning to let the Garmin dictate my race, so I decided to just stick the whole watch in one of the front pockets of my Nathan hydration pack, and pull it out periodically to check my time and pace.

After handing off race packets to two friends who arrived race morning, Sandra and I wandered with our friend Jen to a nearby house where some local runners stayed the night before. We slapped some almond butter on bread, chowed down, made another pit stop and headed toward the starting line.

I don't know if it's experience with this race, my recent addition of power yoga (and its ability to clear my head) to my fitness routine, or something else, but my brain was totally empty now. We've joked locally that many of the "name" running cities and other major cities (Flagstaff, Boulder, Denver, etc.) are routinely mentioned on the mic during pre-race announcements, while our fair city of Grand Junction is routinely the redheaded stepchild and goes without a mention. It's not a big deal, but c'mon, we typically have somewhere in the area of 75-100 runners entered from our city and surrounding areas. Well, we DID wind up getting a mention this time, along with the surrounding cities of Delta and Montrose. Oh yeah, a little love. Sandra, the lone representative of Clifton, on the east side of GJ, started saying "Oh yeah, Clifton IN DA HOUSE!" I cracked up. Finally, it was time to go. About ten seconds before 7:30 a.m., the final countdown took place and the 38th Annual Imogene Pass Run was under way.

The Answers Are Getting Harder

Wow, this was quite the bottleneck of runners early on. I did not recall being clumped together so tightly with other runners in previous years, and avoided wasting energy with a lot of weaving in the first mile. I saw Jen from Delta blow past right away, and just kind of kept in mind that I was planning to focus on good POSE technique, stay upright, keep my rate of turnover high, and run MY race. I felt pretty relaxed. There was nothing weird with my breathing, or any other early strangeness indicative of trouble. This was good news.

The crowds started to thin out a bit, and somewhere in the second mile, Sandra moseyed up alongside and paced with me, looking pretty comfortable. Well, "comfortable" for Imogene. The starting line altitude is 7810 feet, with a ten mile climb to the summit at 13, 120 feet. Lots of heavy breathing all around. We were able to chat some, though, which is a good way to pass the time early on. My shoes felt great-very grippy on the damp jeep road, and I was experiencing zero sliding around between the good grip and keeping with the relaxed compression of POSE running. My training was so patchy over the summer with some great altitude runs, but weird periods of illness and life stuff that resulted in more missed runs than ever before. This wasn't a blistering pace but it felt like things were going my way more than ever before at IPR.

The answers are getting harder
(If an answer comes to those who pray)

Whoa, nelly. Hello, altitude. I was really starting to feel it now, but continuing to refocus on my breathing, much as I'm learning to do in yoga practice with the Ujjayi breath (can't do exactly the same thing on a mountain run, but the general principle of opening the lungs and calming one's self work) was working. Focusing on running in the moment, and just keeping my eyes a little bit ahead was another excellent piece of advice I'd received regarding the continuous climb. This may sound like "DUH" advice, but it's so easy to look way up and get intimidated by the climb. This was also keeping me from getting distracted and faceplanting. I've never fallen on the uphill, and didn't want to start today.

I don't like to get really negative or worry much about other people's races, but I do have to mention the scene that kind of bugged the crap out of me in the early miles. If you were someone in the +/- 4 hour finish range at the race, you saw these people. I saw them early on but I think about halfway up the mountain was when I decided if there were two people I needed to beat, it was this duo. A woman in a pink tutu (that's not the bad part-I'm all about color and flavor on the course), attached to some guy by a long rope and two carabiners, kept coming up alongside of me me. This guy was literally PULLING her up the hill. Not cute or funny, actually rather dangerous with other runners around, and while I can't find a rule that says they cannot do this....it just doesn't seem like it should be legal to pull someone up the hill like that. I'm still not quite sure if I did get over to Telluride before them, and I guess it's good. It would make a little of me die inside to know I was beaten by a the human mule and driver.

The answers are getting harder
(If an answer comes to those who pray)

Approaching Upper Camp Bird, 7.6 miles up the hill, with a mandatory cutoff time of 2:30, I was happy to see that despite not having a high mileage summer, and without looking at my watch, I'd reached this checkpoint in 2:07. This was slower than any of my prior three runnings, but truly not by much, and I felt 100% more in confident than each of those races combined. I kind of split the difference between my "no time for berrypicking!" run-through in 2010, and taking many pictures in 2008 and 2009, stopping to fully consume a cup of Gatorade and take in the view but then moving on my way. It was colder now. There was a bit of a breeze. I was warmed up, though, and continually refocused on my breathing and relaxing my quads every time I started to feel that I might be jamming the quads and working too hard to get down without a fall. Conversation among runners was almost non-existent now, but there were some short pleasantries exchanged here and there. I just tried to feed off that good mojo and stay relaxed.

The answers are getting harder and harder
And there ain't no way to bargain or to barter

The air was getting thinner, and the pitch of the mountain was getting steeper. I was beginning to see folks dotting the sides of trail, stopping for breathers, usually facing downhill so as not to get intimidated by how much more we still had to climb. I started feeling that strong urge through here, but refocused on race founder Rick Trujillos mantra, "Incessant Forward Motion." I really wanted to stop several times here but kept going. There were a few short, flat-ish pitches close to the summit that I've run in the past, only to find my heart rate out of control when the climb started again. This year, I tried kind of a POSE-inspired hike with very quick turnover, and short strides. When I got out of the flats and started climbing again, I didn't have that redlining heart rate, and even passed a few people. There was no time to get all overconfident, though, as we were still climbing, and man, was this HARD. Soon, though, I could hear the sweet sound of the Cowbell People at the summit. Last year, we'd been greeted by a vuvuzela, and I was just happy that the tried-and-true cowbell was back. It was pretty breezy and cold but not miserable, and I'd never need to stop to put on my jacket with the long sleeved compression shirt/short sleeved tech shirt combo.

But if you've got the angst or the ardor
You might faint from the fight but you're gonna find it

Finally, I was in the single-file line to the summit. I found myself a wee bit lightheaded approaching the 13, 120 foot summit, but it wasn't like I was about to pass out either. Last year, I was very impatient to get there in under three hours. This year, I was moving ahead as fast as I could but focused on the moment and not the clock. Moving along, stepping up past the Cowbell People over the summit timing mat at 3:09:46. This was my slowest ascent ever at the race, but it marked a first with no a single slip or slide. I've never fallen on the first half, but have sure skidded around plenty every year. This marked a departure and step up from HOW I've done the race before. Running with confidence more slowly means that I can start to practice running with more confidence more quickly.

I took my time at the summit this year. No pictures were taken, but I slowly consumed some hot, salty chicken broth, then another full container of Gatorade, retied my shoelaces, and got ready for what was my downfall last year, literally, and my slowest descent into Telluride ever.

For every challenge could have paradise behind it
And if you accept what you have lost and you stand tall
You might just get it back and you can get it all

I began the trip down the hill purposely cautious, but it wasn't out of the fear I've had in previous Imogene Pass Runs. It was out of what I considered reasonable caution in protecting the ankle that I sprained badly last spring, and re-sprained to a lesser degree over the summer. It's hard to not brake when moving more slowly but I tried my best to kind of "spring in place" down the steepest part below the summit. People were flying past me but that was cool. It really sucked to be unable to run last spring, and I just knew I needed to control myself here and not take the kind of fall or roll on that ankle that would be the one that tore tendons all the way through, or broke anything. I relaxed, though, and smiled my way past the guy from Elevation Imaging on the side of the mountain.

As the downhill became less steep, I opened up slightly and picked up a bit of "speed," but this is really a relative term. I couldn't remember where exactly I went down last year; all the switchbacks looked like "the one," and I just kept doing that thing of focusing on the now, and watching where I was going next. Soon, I was at the first aid station after the summit, and realized that the point where I'd fallen had not made a permanent impression on my brain. I was past it now. I stopped to drink again, and then opened things up some more.

Somewhere through here, I heard a "Hey Karah!" It was my friend Julie, who had originally planned to run with the Dirty Girls relay team last spring before an injury. Her son is also in the same kindergarten class with my youngest daughter, and we do run in the ballpark of one another pace-wise. We chatted about kindergarten, school, and other various stuff, picking up speed as we chatted. I was feeling better physically than I did two years ago, the only time prior that I'd felt like the downhill didn't own me. Looking at the time, it was obvious that I wouldn't PR today with the slower ascent. I was looking at a strong finish, though, if I kept up this pace and stayed upright. I joked with Julie that "I haven't gotten through Imogene without falling on my face until I get through Imogene without falling on my face." We leap frogged back and forth, continuing to pick up speed and move well. At some point, I started to ease ahead, just really feeling good and like I wanted to fly.

So now you know why it's a long way to fall
Yeah cause it's a long way to fall
Cause it's a long... way to fall

Dare I say that my legs and body mechanics in general felt GREAT? I was passing people right and left now. There was a method to the madness, though, and control that I've never had before. It felt very odd to be on nearly an identical finishing time pace from the year before, but feel so good to be running an entirely different race.

Did I say that the Garmin was the glitch for the mission? Oh, yeah. There was one more to come. Right around mile sixteen, I started feeling the unmistakable ache of a side stitch. I tried blocking it out but it got sharper and sharper. I didn't want to walk because everything else felt great, but then I could feel what was almost a stabbing sensation. Well, crap. That wasn't part of the game plan. I started walking it out briskly to try to make it go away. Some of the people I'd just passed wound up passing me back. Julie came along, and asked if all was ok as she ran past. I said "just a side stitch...gonna try to walk it out." Soon, I didn't feel that fabulous stabbing sensation anymore. I started running again, determined to make up as much time as I could from that minute or two spent walking.

Coming down the final mile and last couple of switchbacks, I was very focused on controlling my breathing in a way to keep that side stitch at bay. I could still feel dull pain but I could run through this with no problem. Soon, I was passing back some of the folks who made up ground on me. I started to see fans and earlier finishers along the side of the trail. And then I could see Julie...I was determined to pick it up and catch back up to her. Turning onto the pavement, I turned it up as much as I could. I'm not sure if she knew someone was behind her but she was picking it up too. I got almost all the way back up, but it was Julie oustriding into the finish, and I came barreling through a second behind, kind of slapping her on the back and saying "Hey Julie!" as I finished in 4:29:07. She said "Ah, I'd hoped you'd catch up!" and we hugged after the finish. I don't know what my exact time was when I started running again at the summit, but this either matched or was slightly faster than my prior best performance on the downhill. I was thrilled and ecstatic. It was actually about 25 seconds slower than my overall 2010 time, but didn't look remotely like the same race.

Stand
Stand and walk
Stand

I strolled around, found some of the hometown folks, scored a fresh peach, and kept talking to folks. As it turned out, the local guys and gals had all run very well, with no less than three of them winding up with podium finishes in their age groups. I went to look for Sandra coming in, and someone said "she just finished!" Damn, I missed it...but she was so happy, crying tears of joy at her 4:44 finish that I don't think she'd have cared if nobody was there at the end. (Okay, that would sort of suck. But she was happy).

Some of us gathered wound up at the Brown Dog in Telluride post-race for a celebratory drink,

(Eric, Sandra's husband, Sandra, me, Julie, Shannon, with Ray and Greg hiding behind the camera)
and then we moved over to the park to watch the awards ceremony, and cheer on our local peeps. I was so happy with finally seeing a real improvement in my trail skills, even though I didn't PR. It was true icing on the cake to loudly cheer each time we heard "From Grand Junction...." during the awards, and really appreciate all the outstanding races from athletes across the spectrum of age and gender.

So, will I be back next year? Yeah, I think I'll be doing this race as long as I have air in my lungs, legs on my body, and I can still get into the thing before it closes out. The goal next year IS to run it with a focus on time, along with focus on form. Because, if I don't-it's a loooooooong way to fall.

Racing, Trying To Stay Upright, and Competitive Weather Forecasting

2011-09-08T09:08:00.015-06:00

I'll cut to the chase on Saturday's 8- and 16-mile races at Mary's Loop. My last run here was in 2007; it was my third race ever, and longest race to date as a final tune-up before my first half-marathon, The Other Half in Moab. That year, I managed a so-so 1:23 and change on the 8-mile course, did a lot of hiking, and got passed by a everyone and their geriatric brother on the home stretch, the frontage road that rolls on forever after coming out of the beautiful first six miles of canyon. This year, I ran the whole thing, did pass one person with no one passing me on the frontage road, and trimmed about 7 minutes off that time for 1:16 and change, not age-grouping but probably finishing fourth or fifth in the womens 30-39. I still haven't seen official results but that's about what it looked like on the preliminary results posted right after the race. It was all pretty decent for a tune-up race that I didn't want to do quite full-out, except for the part halfway through when I tripped and fell for no discernible reason.

Yep...oops, I did it again. I didn't go nuts like Britney Spears....just wound up catching a toe on a flat-ish section, and wound up with a really good bruise, scrape and cut line running from right knee to left elbow and hand. On the upside (and there is an upside), I really didn't feel myself going down so there was no braking or tensing up. And I got back up immediately, hurting a lot right after, but not letting the fall get in my head like wipeouts have done in the past. I felt sort of stupid running and bleeding with the woman right behind me asking "are you okay?" but other than that, I wound up wasting no more than about thirty seconds between time on the ground, and getting a slow running start again. At the finish, one of my friends mentioned having hydrogen peroxide in his car to hose off, and I gladly accepted getting to use some of that stuff on my lovely oozing trail rash. Between that, and a pool swim and run in the afternoon with my friend Loralie, I think I'm really no worse for the wear. I'll just need to make sure the grossest trail rash is covered on Saturday in case I happen to fall and potentially re-open the stuff. This is how a little part of it...my elbow and arm....looked a few days after the fall.

On another upside....it was one of those gloriously beautiful Western Colorado mornings. The race started earlier this year-7:00am-which meant that we weren't boiling right away. Although there are a lot of runners in our area, they don't all race every time. This race, though, was truly a gathering of most of the people whom I like to call "The Usual Suspects," and it was fun to cheer people in after finishing, as well as finding out how far ahead the speediest among us had come in. Oh, and the schwag at this race was great. Somehow, I scored a 3-month membership to Gold's Gym in the prize drawings. I haven't had a gym membership in years, and can't really justify the expense now. There were a lot of cool things given away, but I was stoked to get something I'm going to use.

Now, turning to the big thing on the calendar...the Imogene Pass Run. For the past three years, we've been graced with some of the best race weather in the history of the run. If you read here, there are some gnarly accounts of bad weather years, but 2008-2010 were really walks in the park. Well, HA-it looks like this streak comes to an end this year. At the moment, those of us who are racing Saturday are keeping a close eye on awesomeness that is the forecast for some combination of wind, rain, and snow on Friday night, and more of the same on Saturday. I kind of dislike the expression "It is what it is," but that's sort of right-on this time. It's an uncontrollable factor-no use wishing for 50 degrees and no precipitation. If we get a weather worst case scenario, I'm just going to laugh it off, relax, and throw the watch out the window. Okay...I'm really not going to pitch my Garmin. I'm not going to be bent on making particular splits, though. It's going to be about running the conditions of the day the best I can.

When it comes to this blog and other runners, this is actually my "favorite blogging season." Some of you guys know that I have a nifty little tool called a "statcounter," something that many bloggers use. For me, it's just neat to see how people wound up on the blog, and if they are searching for a particular race, training plan, injury information, wandered over from a friend's linked blog, or somewhere else altogether. My friend Jen will occasionally search my blog and throw in funny search terms just to see if I notice, which is always good for a laugh.

Well, the Imogene Pass Run seems to draw some of the best searches ever. There are usually a ton of run-of-the-mill searches by race name from the time of registration until race day, but all the cream-of-the-crop searches are taking place now. Some of my favorites include, but are not limited to: "incessant forward motion," "Imogene Pass Run accidents," "what to bring to Imogene Pass Run," "tapering schedule for Imogene Pass Run (three days before the race...um.....you're a little late in planning that out)," and perhaps my favorite of all time, "Imogene Pass Run death."

So, I might as well try to cover some of those searches, and give my .02 all in one spot. Keep in mind, this comes from a woman who has never finished in under four hours, and who has gone slip-sliding away all over the mountain. I have FINISHED the race three times, though...so I might have some semi-valid opinions.

Death? No. As far as I know, nobody has ever died running this race, which is a pretty good course record if you consider how often one hears of a runner keeling over and dying in the heat at some road marathon. Don't worry about dying while running this race unless you deliberately jump over the edge of Drinking Cup Curve (photo by my friend Ilana). You might get banged up but you're not going to die. Well, okay. I guess I can't say that for sure. It's highly unlikely, though, which should be reassuring to those friends and relatives who really do think you're crazy and that you'll surely die out there.

What to Bring? The course is well-supported, but personally, I like having a hydration vest to drink from between aid stations, and as a place to shove my camera and jacket (which I'll probably be wearing this year). Some people just carry handhelds or use waist belts/fanny packs. It's truly whatever worked for you in training, keeping in mind that the weather can change very quickly in the mountains, and will probably be doing so a great deal this year. They don't have gels on the course, but there's water, electrolyte drink, cookies, crackers, and the delicious, salty chicken broth at the summit. I've run in shorts one year, and pants twice. This year, I'm going for compression pants and a kind of compression-y shirt with another shirt over the top, plus hat and gloves. The hat and gloves have been my mainstay every year. If the appendages stay warm, the rest of me stays pretty well-regulated, temperature wise. I've used compression socks for the past two years as well, and for me, it's felt very good on the uphill on those calves. Still, so much of this is personal taste, and what has worked for the runner in training. The lightweight, waterproof jacket will be a must this year, and I think it's a pretty good idea to put some extra socks in a ziplock bag in case the feet get soaked during the race. I'll also be sending over a full change of clothes in a plastic bag within my gear bag, fully expecting to be soaked upon arrival in Telluride.

Tapering? Yes, you should be doing that now. Even my friends who are much stronger and faster are getting their rest in, paying attention to nutrition, resting, running easy, RESTING, RESTING, RESTING. Get it?

Imogene Pass Run Accidents? Again, people fall and get banged up. I'm not aware, though, of anything major in the race history. Keep an eye out for your fellow runners during the first few miles. It'll be tightly packed through those first few curves. No one has ever been pushed off a cliff, though, and the road is closed to vehicle traffic during the race (no jeeps going over during the run).

And finally Incessant Forward Motion. This is the key to making the cutoffs. Even if you're at a crawl and moving as slowly as you can possibly go without being totally stopped, you'll still be moving forward. Don't look up and get overwhelmed by how far you have to go. Just stay focused on the now, and the space you're running, hiking, walking, or tiptoeing. You'll make it over if you stay relaxed and just keep moving.

Well, that's about it. Today I'll be gathering up gear and getting ready to ride down with my friend Sandra, who is running her very first IPR courtesy of a transfer entry from another mutual friend. A bunch of the Grand Junction area runners will be there, and we're going to do our best to hang out when we can over the weekend, whether that's pre-race, chatting on the course or celebrating after. In the end, I'm just excited to be healthy enough again to do this thing, and looking forward to getting my "ass over the pass."

(**NOT the official race shirt. We had an iron-on shirtmaking party and pre-race gathering locally, and used what seems to have become our unofficial local trail runner mascot, the Honey Badger. If you see our shirts on the course, yes, it's those kooky kids from Grand Junction**)

The Accidental Spectator: Leadville Trail 100 Edition

2011-09-01T09:13:00.004-06:00

Before I let it get away from me in the endless hamster wheel of back-to-school/back to activities, I've got to talk about the wonderful experience my daughter and I had as fans and onetime aid station helpers at the Leadville Trail 100. I'd wanted to go, but thought it wasn't in the works. Oh, how fortunate Alexis and I were to be able to share in the experience.

A week ago Saturday, I roused my pre-teen at o-dark-thirty and started poking her with a stick to get moving and dressed. She's been dancing since age three, and now at twelve has just been approved to begin dancing en pointe. Fitting pointe shoes is kind of like finding the right running shoe, but with a far greater risk for injury to a young dancer in the wrong one, and far fewer places to buy them or get them fitted the right way. Living "four hours from nowhere," as my Dad likes to call our city that is four hours from both Salt Lake City and Denver, we had recommendations from her studio for two places in the Denver metro area, and opted for the Boulder store when they got back to me right away and seemed to have better customer service. While I wasn't thrilled about 8+ hours in the car, messing with my child's growing feet isn't something I'm going to do. It's her thing, too, as running is for me, and with four kids I don't get tons of one-on-one time with her. So, we were actually looking forward to the hang.

After a ride in the car during which Alexis and I alternated playing tunes on the iPod, hanging out and talking some, we made just one local wrong turn (don't ever trust Mapquest directions 100%), and found Boulder Bodywear, where my daughter wound up being fitted by the owner of the place, who has been doing this thing for 20 years. It was cool to watch her go through the process, methodically and just talking directly to my kid to find the best fit, not trying to sell me product.

After trimming down the list, and the fitter determining that she needs thicker toe pads but no toe spacers like most dancers (see...all the stuff I don't know that made me glad we came to this place), she found herself narrowed down to a really good pair and the perfect pair for her to start pointe training. We were out of there far earlier than I imagined, and after a quick lunch at Med (try it if you're ever in Boulder-really good Mediterranean place that's inexpensive and healthy), we were on the road again.

Intermittently throughout the morning and early afternoon, I had been doing something else as well-checking in with two members of local runner Bryan's support team/crew at the Leadville Trail 100. Bryan was a first time 100-miler, originally from Kentucky, living the Colorado dream along with his wife Elizabeth. He'd had this race on the brain for many years, and his dream and goal was finishing...period. Under 30 hours, and getting the belt buckle that all official finishers get was his goal. I've gotten to know these guys, and there's just something about wanting to root someone on in realizing their goal, and tracking his progress. It doesn't matter how well a runner prepares for the LT100-a lot can happen over the course of 100 miles, and typically only half of the field finishes the distance under the allowable time. All the little things makes a difference, including but not limited to proper pacing, good nutrition, weather, course conditions, self-motivation, crew, pacers, and general support along the route. I just identified with his goal, too, of getting it done and literally living his dream.

Every time I was updated on his progress, he was right where he'd wanted and hoped to be-ahead of the cutoff times at each aid station, but without a huge cushion. Both crew members I was talking with (one being his wife, another being one of his pacers/2-time LT100 finisher) said via text message, "you guys should come up to Twin Lakes!" Twin Lakes is the 40-mile outbound stop on the out-and-back course, and 60-mile checkpoint inbound. The timing appeared to work out very well, and I made the decision to detour to Leadville with Alexis. They said that Bryan was having some IT band pain, but that he was feeling pretty "good" otherwise.

Now, my kiddo is twelve, as I mentioned earlier. She's a good kid but not a robot, and got a little cranky, saying "I wanna go home! I don't want to go up to Leadville." I said tough, we're going. Nine hours to do your thing...we're going to stop off, cheer for, and encourage someone doing something most people would never bother to try or train for. Play whatever you want on the iPod until we get there, your choice, but we're going. She grumpily set it up to play the music mix of her choice and promptly fell asleep. When she woke up two hours later, approaching Leadville, her attitude seemed suddenly adjusted. The weather can be nasty in the mountains but it was pretty nice as we made it into Leadville and easily found the Twin Lakes aid station. I didn't see any of Bryan's "Badass Honey Badger Crew" there yet, but there was plenty of people-watching and runner cheering to do.

These were some spectators watching runners come back into view from Hope Pass on their return trip inbound:

Several film crews documenting the event in general, as well as members from specific sponsored teams:

There were, of course, a wide variety of runners in various physical and mental states.

And then there were the faithful fans and support crews of runners. I didn't catch the special post-race services in one of these photos until I was home looking them over. That is some serious dedication to your athlete.

After walking around for awhile, I saw one of my original Dirty Girls teammates, Julie C, arrive with some other local support crew. Her husband John was running, and we would see him check in later, looking very strong. We chatted for a minute, and then Alexis and I continued to wander, keeping an eye out for the Honey Badger. There were tons of people milling around, cheering for runners as they came through. Some looked strong and even smiled, some seemed to be not doing so great but were still moving, and others appeared to be in obvious pain or discomfort. We finally saw the first member of the Honey Badger crew:

Soon, the rest of the crew was there too. That's Elizabeth, Bryan's wife, and Terri the Penguin, who goes along for all of Bryan and Elizabeth's adventures in Colorado.

When we first saw the crew, I said something like "Baaadgggeeerrs," not particularly loud or disruptively, but I sort of startled them because, well, they'd been without sleep, had been up since 2 a.m., and had endured a downpour while camping the night before. I guess I needed to bring it down a notch. Alexis and I helped them grab all the stuff that we'd need to set up for Bryan at the 60-mile checkpoint, including a variety of gear and nutrition options, camping chairs, pacing chart, and other items. The Leadville Trail 100 is a well-oiled machine, and they don't want anyone dying or getting unnecessarily injured out there. When he came in, Bryan would have to go through, get weighed, and otherwise pass the medical check before continuing on. We set ourselves up immediately outside the checkpoint, and then just hung out.

Alexis, despite her initial resistance, was thinking this was all pretty cool by now. Other than the fact that we were uncharacteristically unprepared for driving in Colorado without the Leadville stop (no heavier clothes or jackets, better footwear, water, shovel, etc) and slightly chilly, we were having a good time, and really excited for Bryan's arrival. We were told that approximately 8-8:30 would be a likely arrival time, and moved down to the one general store/lit area at Twin Lakes around that time. We donned pirate masks and eye patches (Elizabeth planned cool little surprises for Bryan at each pit stop to lift his spirits and keep him motivated), and practiced a cheer. We were ready to go, and kept watching for Bryan and his pacer as it grew dark.

We continued to practice our cheer, and cheer on other runners as 8:30, 8:45, and finally 9:00 came and went. We were not doubting that he'd be in soon, but everyone was REALLY wanting to see Bryan and his pacer come along, and closely watching for him with 9:45 being the cutoff for this aid station. Then...there he was! With great excitement, we did our cheer "B is for Bryan and Badger! Mutual badasses!" and then ran alongside/cheered "badger, badger badger....." all the way up to the spot we'd set up. He went in to get weighed, and once he was out, it was a flurry of activity akin to a NASCAR pit stop. His pacer Marty was calmly but quickly directing the action, asking for batteries, specific food that Bryan wanted, socks, shoes, you name it. Two of the guys were shaking out his leg muscles because that seemed to loosen up the tightness he was experiencing, and Elizabeth rubbed his back and neck to loosen up those muscles and just generally provide good moral support to her husband. He was still ahead of the cutoffs, but with very little time to spare, so it was crucial to get him refueled, loosened up and ready to go again quickly. It's hard to see, but this was our man Bryan getting fixed up in the dark:

He looked good-obviously, you're not looking like someone with a full eight hours of sleep and lots of couch-surfing time at sixty miles into one hundred miles, but he was pretty with it. We'd seen a few runners who, quite frankly, were at the "goose is cooked" point. Though he had precious few minutes of cushion time to make the cutoffs for the remainder of the races, he looked like a runner who was ready to keep on keepin' on at this steady pace, and run his race. When Bryan got ready to run again, his new pacer was ready and off they went with fresh batteries in their head lamps. Alexis and I helped the crew move everything back to the vehicle, said our good-byes, and got ready to hit the road. I asked them to keep texting me with checkpoint updates throughout the night, and they told me to drive carefully back home. It was now after ten. This meant we'd have a VERY late arrival to Grand Junction, but it was such an amazing experience to be part of Leadville for even a short time that it was definitely worth it. Even Alexis, who wasn't thrilled to get there, kept saying "that was awesome!" Seeing how hard the crew works, and then thinking about how far the runenrs are going-it's just awe inspiring and good for anyone to see, but especially kids her age.

I didn't fall asleep or run off the road on the way home, but was SO happy to see my bed upon our return. I got a few hours of sleep, and sure enough, early in the morning, I got word of Bryan's arrival at the second-to-last checkpoint, and finally the last checkpoint. He had 2.5 hours to make it the final 7 miles, which may sound like lots of time on its own. By now, though, he was truly exhausted and it was pretty fitting that Elizabeth paced him in to the finish. By now I was up again, and refreshing the results page, waiting for his final time to come up, and FINALLY...there it was....29:44:xx, an official finish at Leadville, the beltbuckle, and a dream accomplished with his whole crew there for the moment. It was hard to wrap my brain around that, or that I'd slept twice during the time he'd been out there. He finished 328 out of 347 finishers, an amazing accomplishment that barely half of the starters were able to do.

I know this wasn't MY race or my kids' race or anything like that, but it reminded me why I run, and why it's important to work for the things you want to do, and tune out any negative influences or factors telling you that you can't, wouldn't or shouldn't. It's great inspiration to me as I run my first race in two months, the Mary's Loop 8-mile, this weekend as a tune-up/hard run, and then move on to the Imogene Pass Run the following weekend. I want to do like Bryan did, and run smart, stay relaxed, trust that my training will get me through the physical part, and that my mind will get me through any portions of the races when I might feel like I can't do it.

**SMALL P.S./FOOTNOTE...turns out that voting was not "live" yet in the photo contest I linked up in the last blog entry. You can either go back down and click there again to vote, or click through here if you feel the urge to vote for my pic of the bliss of exercise.**

A Little Bit Of Shameless Self-Promotion, And Friends Running A Long, Long Time

2011-08-19T09:07:00.004-06:00

After the Boston Marathon, I posted a picture that had been taken on the course of me high-fiving some kids and having a blast during the race that almost didn't happen. My friend Lynn from the BQ Babes (we spent a lot of time together in Boston) mentioned to me yesterday that there was a photo contest through Blue Cross/Blue Shield encouraging people to submit pictures of themselves having fun while exercising. And, well, that was the photo that came to mind for Lynn. I've never done anything like this before, but truth be told, it's a photo I really like because it captures how I felt that day, and how great it felt to be able to run the race. If you feel compelled and have a few minutes to kill, you may visit the photo at this link and vote. You can comment and laugh at my roller derby on crack outfit as well...that's encouraged early and often. There are lots of other cool photos and stories on the page, so be sure to check them out.

Also, it's Leadville Trail 100 weekend. I am not running or pacing, but we have several hardworking local athletes who will be running, and many more who will crew, pace, or otherwise provide general support. There's a slim possibility that I may be able to head up on Sunday to watch my neighbor Bryan finish his first LT100 in the early morning hours, but I'll likely be cheering on from afar. Still, it's very exciting to get to virtually track these guys, getting updates via Facebook pages, text, and the Leadville Trail 100 race website. I remember how beat I was at the end of 34 miles last February, and the ladies and gentleman who have put in the training and time for 100 miles have my full respect and admiration, regardless of what happens out on the course (though I know Grand Junction is going to represent, and show that there are strong runners from the places in the state that are not as well-known for being running meccas). I'm glad I've gotten to do a little watching and learning from the training for this race, and can't wait to hear afterward what it was like to cover 100 miles on foot.

Send Me On My Way

2011-08-15T08:00:00.010-06:00

I would like to reach out my hand

I may see you, I may tell you to run

From what I can glean on the interwebs and the Googles, the above video was actually filmed in the Badlands in South Dakota, but it sure does remind me of being up on the trails outside of Moab, Utah. Not a bad comparison. And yeah, I've outed myself again as someone who listens to hippie jam band music from time to time.

I haven't blogged in about a month, I believe, and much has gone on in that time, along with some things NOT going on...namely, racing. I typically hit up a ton of 5K and 10K races in the area in summer months, but between my desire to make a dedicated effort to a good Imogene Pass Run, and some cancellations of long-running annual events like the Pteranodon Ptrot at our local dinosaur museum, I haven't gotten my race on. What I have done, though, is two training runs in the Turkey Flats trail area near Glade Park, Colorado, one training run on the Crags Crest Trail on the Grand Mesa, and one trip down to Ouray, two hours south, for a run on the Bear Creek Trail, starting at about 8500 feet, and climbing roughly 3000 feet before ultimately turning around. Some of these runs have been more focused than others....and some, well-let's just say they included a lot of hack photography by a couple of clowns. I keep trying to leave the dang thing behind every time, but somehow we're always out there for some posing in the beauty of Western Colorado, or, as it's called when a man comes along for the run-performing stunts for the camera.

This was the scene at Crag's Crest:

And Turkey Flats:

and Ouray:

That Ouray run was a lot of fun until it wasn't...namely, when I rolled my ankle on the downhill. This would be the same ankle I rolled in Moab that nearly prevented me from running the Boston Marathon this year, and I thought I'd doomed myself to the same fate for Imogene when I went down on the same ankle a second time. I practiced the art of rest, though, and a week later, it feels about the same as it did before the fall. What this tells me, though, is that the ankle never returned to the level of strength and degree of flexibility I had prior to the initial fall in March.

This is a sign that I need to be dedicated about doing the strengthening exercises that my fab "Guerilla PT" Bryan had me doing to get ready for my marathon. I'm not ancient at 38-years-young, but I can tell that strengthening, adequate rest, and good nutrition are going to become increasingly more important from here on out. I also did that run at the tail end of an illness that was the worst I've had in a long time, complete with several days of fever, body aches, chills, headache, and the whole kit and kaboodle that comes from flu-like viruses. I am feeling just about normal now, but that sure puts a kink in training and just day-to-day living.

I've also made some important decisions, both on and off the trail. Though I've been getting in some good trail time this year and probably have better tools than I've had in any other year going into Imogene, I'm nowhere near the volume or long run distance I should have for the Run Rabbit Run 50-miler in Steamboat Springs. I do want to run a 50-mile race at some point, but I don't want to do it feeling remotely undertrained or underprepared. Therefore, I felt like it was the right thing to do when I emailed the race director, asking that my entry be transferred to a wait-listed runner, and my partial refund be issued. I feel almost relieved (even though I HATE parting with registration money already plunked down) because I know it wouldn't have been a good race. I'll take another swing at 50 at some other time when I've put in good, consistent longer long runs, and higher mileage in general.

I also just made a decision for my kids that was very difficult, but ultimately is the right thing now that I've looked at the big picture. I couldn't have predicted that we'd be moving in this new direction, but it's good, and also the right thing to do for them. Transitions and changes in direction are never easy, but I can tell with each passing day that going down a different path is going to be very good and positive. I see how good this change has already been for my kids, and any doubts or questions in my mind fade away.

This leaves me with about four weeks to get ready for my "big run" of the fall. I don't have rigid time goals this year, and am considering running Imogene without a watch, and just going on feel. I've been doing this on training runs since a little bit after the race last year, and in the end I think there's a chance I'll reverse my position. If I bring a watch, though, it's just going to be used to ballpark my time and distance on occasion. I will neither hold back nor push based on what the clock says. The focus will be on running a smart race based on conditions and how I am feeling that day.

Oh, and FUN. That may not be the word that comes to mind in one the most physically demanding non-ultra-distance trail races, but the best experience I've had at Imogene, in 2009, was filled with fun. There were no specific pre-set time goals in my head, my legs were fresh, and every time I starting thinking "man, this is hard," I looked around at all the other like-minded folks, or listened to the sound of water flowing or breeze in the trees. Somehow, just doing that got me to the top of the pass in a relatively relaxed state, and made for a very light, bouncy run down the hill. I'd like to spend the final weeks before the race in that mindset-light on my feet, and nothing heavy or weighing me down in my mind.

I'll leave it with a few couple of fun running moments from Turkey Flats run number two this past weekend (well, it was not great running from me, but I am glad I got out there and put in some miles, albeit slow and hikey). If I can make some good deposits in the training bank in the next few weeks and bottle this kind of energy, the fourth time just might be the charm at Imogene:

Photo Friday

2011-07-15T08:04:00.010-06:00

I don't have much to say these days other than this was one of the most unbelievably surreal and stressful weeks of my life that was made better and less stressful by some good running, among other things. I still need to find a smaller camera to take ON the run (and alas...my fabulous purple iPod has gone missing. BOO.), but did bring the big camera for a few shots following my run today under the light of a full moon. These were taken at the Tabeguache Trailhead, just minutes from my home, after running with Laura, my most regular and consistent of year-round running partners.

Remember, I'm not a photographer. I am a runner who likes to take pictures sometimes. ;) This is just a representation of why, in part, there are quite a few of us who endure that 4 or 5 o'clock alarm. You can't quite fully appreciate the view driving past, or see such colors later in the morning.

Hot, Hot, Hot!!!

2011-07-06T12:53:00.008-06:00

Hey, hey, hey, yes I like it when that lightning comes. Okay, not really. Just a little tip of the hat to The Cure, back from my junior high love for all those European New Wave groups.

Summer sure is here in the high desert. After a particularly scary incident running over the weekend with the running partner and friend who taught me most of what I know about POSE running, I'd like to do a little bit of community service about running safely in the heat. So much of it seems self-explanatory and obvious, but even those of us who are most meticulous about proper hydration, attire, and other elements of hot weather running can forget a step or two when rushing through the day and trying to squeeze in a run somewhere.

First item of business. I am, in case it isn't obvious in race photos and videos, rather Caucasian. I'll be the first to admit that I'm guilty of running out the door without slapping on sunscreen sometimes. It's probably one of the most important, and easiest things to take care of before heading out the door. Don't forget all those less obvious places..you know, the ears, back of the neck, hairline or partlines if you're me, and have very fine hair, or anywhere else that you tend to miss in slapping the sunscreen on the arms and legs. If you're wearing that new tech shirt that exposes flesh that was previously covered in your old gear, don't miss coating that newly exposed skin. Yeah, sounds stupid, but you always see That Guy or That Girl walking around with the funny burn marks on the foot or back. So, apply a good coat of sunscreen and KEEP RE-APPLYING during those longer runs. I am partial to REI brand sunscreen, as it doesn't seem to irritate my eyes if I sweat off a little, but everyone's got a favorite that works best. Be generous with the stuff, and remember a visor, hat, and/or sunglasses to protect the eyes and shield the face a bit. If you're in a remotely mosquito-ey area, too, don't forget to protect against bites. Those suckers can spread disease like nobody's business.

There's also that matter of dressing appropriately for the run. I know some folks still like to run in cotton, but I still say there's nothing better than moisture-wicking tech fabrics to get the sweat away from the skin on a hot summer day. Target's C9 line is a good, inexpensive workhorse brand, and I'm always pleasantly surprised with what can be found in my local thrift stores, Goodwill, and Salvation Army stores. If you want to spend big, yeah, that's not too hard to do...but good gear for summer can be found on the cheap. If you're trail running, depending on terrain, it can be useful to run in longer shorts with better coverage in case you take a spill (I scraped the heck out of my butt last summer because of the way I fell and dragged in some shorter running shorts), and invest in some trail-specific socks, and gaiters to keep rocks and other stuff out of the shoes. One of my favorite websites for trail and general running randomness is Zombie Runner. Lots of great running gear and accessories, particularly for the trail runner. Additionally, I've had good luck with Running Warehouse, and find their prices, frequently available online discount codes and free shipping particularly attractive when I need to gear up.

For the nighttime or early morning runners, don't forget to head out without a reflective vest or reflective gear, and a head lamp to both light your way and let others know you are coming. If you're in an area known for certain types of critters or wildlife, it's a good idea to carry items made to protect one's self in the event of an attack (such as bear spray), and while I don't run with a phone, it's something many runners opt to do in the event of an emergency. And one oft-ignored matter...the ol' chafing in places you've never heard of (thanks Flo) can be resolved by slapping vaseline, Body Glide, or some other product to areas where one might chafe in the heat while out on a run.

When it comes to hydration and fueling, it's more important than ever at this time of year to have a plan. It's not good enough to just drink a little water during the run. Dehydration causes your blood volume to drop, which in turn lowers your body's ability to transfer heat and forces your heart to beat faster, making it difficult for your body to meet aerobic demands. Whenever possible, drink 8-16 oz of water or sport drink in the hour or two before running. If you forget to do this, try to get in a little something in the hour leading up to your run. Temperature is important as well. According to a 2008 study published in Medicine & Science in Sports & Exercise, cyclists drinking cold beverages before and during their workout exercised nearly 12 minutes longer than those who drank warm beverages. Yet another study published in 2010 showed that runners who had an ice slushy ran 10 minutes longer than when they had a cold drink. In both cases, colder drink lowered body temperature and perceived effort, thus resulting in a longer workout. If you carry a handheld or other water bottle on the run, try filling it up halfway, freezing, and then topping off with your beverage of choice. I also like to load ice cubes into the flask of my Nathan Hydration vest to keep my water cold.

Not sure how much to drink? Here are some good guidelines:

ONE HOUR OR LESS
Three to six ounces every 15 to 20 minutes. Water is usually fine. For a tough run over 30 minutes, consider a sports drink to give you a kick of energy at the end.

ONE TO FOUR HOURS
Three to six ounces every 15 to 20 minutes. A sports drink with carbs and electrolytes will replenish sodium. Prefer gels? Chase them with water to avoid sugar overload.

OVER FOUR HOURS
Drink three to six ounces of sports drink every 15 minutes, after which use thirst as your main guide (drinking more if you're thirsty and less if you're not).

POSTRUN
Replace fluids, drinking enough so you have to use the bathroom within 60 to 90 minutes postrun. Usually eight to 24 ounces is fine, but it varies based on running conditions.

Finally, there is the concern of hyponatremia, the very dangerous condition of overhydration, which just doesn't garner the same level of awareness as dehydration. It depletes essential minerals from the body, causing disorientation, illness, and in rare cases, death. If you are consuming too much water and not enough electrolytes, your body can't use the water you've given it, and you'll actually be dehydrated while virtually drowning your body. With the standard disclaimer that I am NOT a doctor or medical personnel of any kind, I think this may have been the culprit when I ran Saturday with a friend who was experiencing dizziness, unusual fatigue, nausea, and was generally out of sorts in a way I'd never seen him before, even in the hottest conditions. His eating in the day or two prior had been a little on the light side, and didn't seem to include much sodium from what he mentioned. We luckily opted to turn around as soon as it was obvious that something was wrong, and he went home to rest and drink up Gatorade all day without any permanent issues. (This was another reason I thought it could be hyponatremia...craving electrolytes and needing to drink up all day long when not passed out in bed). It was a scary enough incident, though, that I thought it to be a worthy topic to blog about. (And, yes, said friend is putting a call into his doctor despite a full recovery to ask about the incident.)

Though none of this is rocket science, it's all good stuff to remember when out there running. Run long, but above all, stay safe, listen to your body, and know when to call it quits if something doesn't feel right.

Double Your Pleasure, Double Your Fun: The 24 Hours Of Laramie Children With Hope 10K and Turkey Flats 15K Race Reports

2011-06-27T10:38:00.018-06:00

Well, let's start from the very beginning. I hear it's a very good place to start.

My relay team for Laramie wound up falling apart pretty late in the week. It was clear that Nick would not be anywhere near healthy in time to race, between his doctor's assessment and how he was feeling. Sara scheduled her surgery to repair her torn meniscus on Friday, Julie's foot still hurt from a chronic injury of an undetermined nature, and that just left Jen and myself. I'd gone ahead hoping that Jen and I might still be going up as a team, but some time late Thursday the plug was officially pulled on any team running in Laramie. I thought seriously about going up as an individual runner-this would be my first ever DNS (did not start), and I hate to pay money for nothing. I had several people, though, essentially tell me "Do what you want, but that's gonna be a lot of time, work, and money to do it alone." After sleeping on it, I did decide that it was probably a good idea for me to let this one go. I was bummed. The Moab experience was great, and I think we'd all been looking forward to Laramie as a team before the Dirty Girls became The Sick and The Gimpy.

Once I got over the bummy frustration of pulling the plug on our 24 hour relay, I shifted into "Lemons to Lemonade" gear. Looking at the racing schedule, I realized that it was a very rare kind of weekend in Grand Junction, Colorado, for a runner. There was a Saturday race, the Children With Hope 5K and 10K, which is an event I've run each of the prior two times it has been held. It benefits a children's group home/orphanage in Eldoret, Kenya, the race directors are on the board of the organization, and have a running background so it's been a solid, well-directed event each time out. Then, on Sunday, there was a running club trail race up past Glade Park, approximately 15K, starting at about 8000 feet and climbing 1000 feet over the course of hte race. Best of all, this event featured my favorite four-letter "F" word...FREE. No tee shirts and no awards-just good times on the trails, wildflowers in bloom, cooler temperatures, hanging out with a small group of the usual suspects, and even some nice snackage and refreshments at the end. I decided that staying in town while my kids were camping with their father, having some rare time being able to hear myself think, doing a little bit of deep cleaning around the house and running a bunch would be a great plan B.

I didn't really crawl out of bed more than about twenty minutes before I needed to get out the door on Saturday for Children With Hope, and still wasn't sure until I got there whether I wanted to run the 5K or 10K. When I got to the start, though, I decided that running the 10K made the most sense. 5K races are a dime a dozen around here, I don't care much for them, and the 10K would be a good training race and workout for longer distance stuff. I said howdy to, and chatted it up with several friends prior to the race, and was pleased that even though it was hot, it seemed like things were going to start on time this year. Last year, it was the first time racing in this location, and they'd opted to start the two races in different spots. It was kind of a logistical nightmare from what I could tell. This year, though, they opted to start both races in the same place, but about ten minutes apart, and routed the courses through different neighborhoods in the same area. This was a nice change and improvement from one of the few things that didn't go quite perfectly the year before, in my opinion. It was also going to be chip-timed, another improvement that reduces the margin of error, especially with two distances being contested at the race.

I wasn't feeling terrific during my warm up, but just went into things like I always do in trying to stay relaxed without thinking too hard or getting down on myself for being a bit tired. This course is sort of a butt-kicker. It goes uphill for most of the first half of the race, and a little bit of the second half. By the time you're running downhill, the heat and effort from the first half can still leave a runner feeling drained and fighting to kick it in. Last year, I really didn't feel good in the last mile and just kind of held on rather than kicking it in. This year, if anything, I wanted to run strong and with consistency. Right around 7:50 a.m., I lined up with the other 10K folks, determined to give the best I had today.

From the get-go, my legs were feeling very un-springy, and I wasn't feeling awesome going uphill, but then again, that was a good sign that I was putting in the right effort. Feeling good in a 5K or 10K at any point means to me that I'm not working hard enough-it's short distance stuff, and if you're trying to be competitive, with yourself or others, it should hurt. My breathing wasn't awful in the heat-I have done some evening trail runs as of late, so it did seem that I'm beginning to acclimate to that after being kind of a baby in other years about avoiding anything over 80 degrees.

Mile 1: 7:50

Onward and upward. Boy, this uphill summer road running did not feel awesome. I forced myself to relax, though, and just tried to relax everything, from the shoulders and arms down to landing my feet in a way that allowed the ball of foot to totally relax, falling forward, and keeping that cadence up as I've been trying to do for some time while practicing POSE running. "Practice" would really be the right word, too. I'm picking it up but am by no means a master. Just being dilligent about it, though, and practicing every time I run or race, though, has resulted in good progress.

Mile 2: 7:50

Well, I still felt kinda crappy, but hadn't dropped off the pace any on the uphill. Not too bad, not too bad. After the early sorting-out of runners, and passing one woman in the first mile, I found myself running what appeared to be fourth woman overall, and I could see the third place female (an 18-year-old high school cross country runner) not far ahead. I wasn't making up any ground on her but kept her in my sight, trying to not lose any ground as we turned to the right into one of the residential neighborhoods. We curved through the streets, pitching slightly uphill most of the way. Man. I really did NOT feel good, and I wasn't halfway through.

Mile 3: 8:26

Oy. Feeling pretty icky. I knew the climbing was almost done, though, and kept pushing. That high schooler started pulling away little by little, and I wasn't able to hang or catch up.

Mile 4: 7:24

We had now looped through the neighborhood and would run back from whence we came. As I passed one of the aid stations, I grabbed some water from a course volunteer, and dumped it over myself to cool off. This was a good idea. I'd hydrately decently in the morning and didn't really need anything right now, and the water kept me from really feeling the heat. I was fighting a bit, though, to keep my head in this and push as hard as I needed to. I heard someone behind me, and pushed to fend them off but a woman who looked like she was surely in my age group, 30-39, slunk on past. CRAP. I wasn't going to go down without a fight, and pushed hard to not let her get too far ahead, and try to make up some ground.

Mile 5: 7:43

Now we were being rejoined by the 5K runners and walkers, and I was doing a lot of weaving in the final mile. Converging courses and dodging walkers three-astride from other distances is a frequent pet peeve amongst runners, but today it was a good distraction from the late race fatigue and pain. I just focused on the next person I needed to move around, keeping that woman who had passed me earlier in my sights, but just not catching up any on this downhill.

Mile 6: 7:18

Okay...now I'm almost there! Yahoo! I'd actually succeeded in a decent late-race surge in the last mile, and kept it up as I turned into the parking lot and toward the finish. I pushed my way in, and registered a pace of 6:42 and split of 1:02.2 for the last .15 Garmin-measured piece of road, finishing in a time of 47:33.

This wasn't close to my PR by any stretch, but this was a hot day on a hilly course that I think had a bit more to it in the hills department with the slight re-routing from the year before. I always want to do better than the previous outing, but was relatively pleased with how I'd hung in there and finished strong rather than fizzling out. I had indeed been passed by someone from my age group, and finished second in women 30-39, and was fifth woman overall, just like I thought. For the third time in three years, I won a lovely piece of art from Eldoret, Kenya, as my age group award. This time, it was a lovely bowl with elephants on the inside. I joke that I do this race for the awards, but that's really no joke. All the awards are quite beautiful and unique-not your typical medal. Several of my friends figured into the overall and age group award mix as well, which was awesome. It just kind of makes the race an even better experience when you get to cheer on your friends who worked hard and hustled out there.

Moving on to the second race of the weekend, I had been chatting back and forth with my friend Loralie, whom I'd met at one of the weekly running club trail runs several weeks back. We'd been talking about the Turkey Flats trail race, 9.6 miles in the Grand Mesa National Forest past Glade Park which is just off the Colorado National Monument. It would be at altitude, but this also meant it would be a welcome escape from the heat down in the city. It would also serve as a great early-season training race for the Imogene Pass run, which Loralie and I were both registered for, and looking to really do well at this year.

When it was clear that I'd be in town for the race, and not in Laramie, Loralie let me know that she was house-sitting up in Glade Park, just about 20 minutes from the race start, and kindly offered to let me come up and spend the night there before the race, thus shaving about half an hour to forty minutes off my travel time to the race. It's so nice and peaceful up there, and since I could bring my old chocolate lab Wilson with me, I gladly accepted that offer. Other than temporarily panicking when Wilson wandered off with the other dogs, and then couldn't quite find his way back at dusk, it was a mellow evening, and I got a great night of sleep. This was SO strange to have a whole weekend without the responsibility of caring for four children, or working, and I my body must've gotten that it was a good time to sack out and sleep hard.

In the morning, we chowed down, geared up, and headed out on a beautiful western Colorado morning. Loralie was going to try out my Nathan hydration vest, an item I'd purchased at the Boston Marathon expo that I have been testing out as a possible gear item for Imogene, and really liking. I just planned to hydrate well beforehand, and carry my Ultimate Direction handheld. We made sure the dogs were set in their dog run with water before leaving, and then drove over to the start at the Turkey Flats camping area and trailhead.

There we found Tom Ela, race director for all of the Grand Mesa Nordic Council ski races, and for this annual trail race. Tom's that guy you see all over the place. He runs, skis, does adventure races, even turning up in a photo on the Mesa Monument Striders Facebook page riding a mechanical bull at some recent event. He knows how to put on these lowkey, no-frills, high-quality events, and we chatted with him a little at the sign-in table before moving around to say howdy to others who were there to run (shout-out to Scott Jones, who mentioned that he reads my ramblings here sometimes, and got a little bit of Imogene information going into his first run there this fall. Glad that I can put my many mistakes at that race out there so that others do not make the same ones. And there are MANY mistakes from which to choose.)

Medium to long trail runs seem to attract a different variety of folks than your local road 5K. Looking around, we were definitely kind of an older, bigger and taller bunch. At 37, I think I was still one of the younger runners there. I recognized a good handful of folks, and quickly got to know the ones I hadn't met before. I also saw Shannon, one of my Dirty Girls teammates from Moab, who was up there with her friend and my former neighbor Kathaleen and her family. It was a little warm but felt pretty good at the start area, which was at about 8800 feet or so. The mosquitoes were out, but Loralie and I had coated ourselves pretty well with bug spray so they weren't biting too bad.

Tom had a good map posted, and the lollipop-shaped course, largely single track trail with a bit of dirt road, seemed like it would be pretty easy to follow. Tom gave us some quick course details, handed the timing device off to his brother, and then we crossed the road from the campground to the start at the Turkey Flats trailhead. We got a little countdown, and then about 28 of us got started on the course. There were already several other runners/hike-walkers who had opted for an early start, so roughly 32 of us were on the course.

I didn't have a ton of excess energy to burn from the start, and at first I was really feeling the altitude. The trail was absolutely beautiful, though-the wildflowers were in bloom, there was a lot of shade on the course, and there was none of the noise and bustle of modern life. This could be a really kick-ass, hard trail run if one wanted to be competitive on the course, and was also the ultimate in berry-picking, become-one-with-nature, zen run race. I was kind of balancing between the two, wanting to really work at running as much of it as possible with minimal hikes, but also taking everything in and not turning it into a joyless, hard run or pushing that ankle to what could be an easy re-injury on some of the roots, rocks, and slippery spots along the way. I let myself relax and didn't really worry about competing with others. I just wanted to run MY race and pace accordingly.

After the first mile of gradual uphill pitch, we started downhill toward a clearing, and I started to feel a little bit better. My lungs were adjusting a bit to the altitude, and my heart rate had come down and didn't feel like it was on the verge of redlining. I had briefly been in a short line of runners, but we thinned out soon after. I found myself running with a woman who was a little bit older than myself up ahead, and another guy who is frequently at around my pace in races just behind. One or two other runners moved on past early on, but this would essentially be my spot in the pack for most of the race.

The trail continued to meander through the trees, sometimes pitching upward for a bit, and flattening out at other points. It was a pretty steady climb, though, and soon I came off the trail and onto a bit of dirt road. This was great practice for Imogene, in my opinion, because of the two-thirds uphill, one-third kind of downhill course. I soon found myself running past a small lake, and got the smile/nod from several folks camping and fishing in the area. As I picked up single track trail again and headed uphill, thus began the mudbogging, log jumping and bushwacking portion of the race. Good times. This is what it was all about.

I did the best I could to keep moving in the old "zero gear" whenever possible, but sometimes it got so steep and slippery that I would momentarily revert to a hike. I say hike, and not power hike, because I tried to stay true to POSE running here, expending as little effort as possible, staying relaxed, keeping my gait short and cadence up. Though I was doing some hiking, I knew I'd already done a lot more running on a steep course than I would have likely done a year ago, so I felt more than okay about how I was doing today.

At what must have been somewhere around six or seven miles in, the trail kind of flattened out, but it was a true mud bog. After kind of trying to move around it, and bushwacking through the sides of the trail, I finally reached a point of saying "screw it....let's get REALLY dirty." (After all...if you ran on a relay team called the Dirty Girls, you should kind of live up to the name, right?) I sort of jumped right into the single track mud trail, but it was SO thick that it was almost pulling off my shoes. The mud and water was surprisingly cold, which definitely kept me alert, and kept me moving. I hurdled over several more logs, splashed around in the mud, and finally got to a point at which I was coming out of the woods and back to that clearing, completing the loop around the "lollipop," and ready to turn back down the "stick." I was pretty gooey and mushy feeling but wasn't fading, and kept plugging along. I wasn't really speedy on the downhill portions of trail, but most important to me was that I was running with good control. I wasn't braking or being tentative, but wasn't flying down the hills, totally out of control.

Somewhere in the final mile or so, Paul, the guy who had been running behind me, moved a bit ahead and was now just behind Sue, the woman who had been ahead of me most of the race. Rather than getting discouraged about moving back another spot, I just kept moving along, and tried to stay focused and dilligent with my POSE with as much of an increase in turnover as I could muster. That said, I was holding back just a little bit because of that ankle. I was so close to being finished, and didn't want to have a careless trip or fall that would put me out for any length of time. As I came back down the Turkey Flats trail I could see Tom's brother there with the timing device, and pushed in for a strong finish, crossing at roughly 1:50:52 by my watch for the 9.6 mile course. I wasn't the fastest person out there, but I was relatively consistent, ran much of the course, finished strong, and did not get hurt. All in a good day's trail run.

Next, I moved over to the finish area, and grabbed some Gatorade and watermelon. After proper rehydration, I grabbed a tasty malt beverage from the Beer Cooler Of Awesomeness, and checked out the results board. The first guy was through in about 1 hour 19 minutes, with Cynthia, one of the others who participated in the alcohol study last summer, coming in as the first woman and third overall at a hair under 1:21. Another gal, Kelly, who has a small sponsorship running for Aquafor, was the second lady, with Sue and I finishing about a minute apart as third and fourth woman. The remaining four ladies were just a few minutes back, finishing pretty much together with all regular starters completing the course solidly in under two hours.

We hung out for quite awhile after the race, and just enjoyed hanging out with the other runners away from the 95-degree temps down in town. This was a strong bunch of runners, but it was quite a different vibe from the road race the day before. While this wasn't all tiptoeing through the tulips, the vibe today was largely about pure enjoyment on the trail, and having a good race for yourself rather than getting into serious cutthroat competition. Not a bad way to end the weekend of racing. Today, there wound up being a very good article on the first page of the Daily Sentinel's sports section about the race, and given that running goes largely unnoticed in the mainstream press, it was a nice piece that summed up Turkey Flats, and why people run it quite well. I was especially amused by the fact that in the results, mine was nowhere to be found, yet a runner by the name of Jose Cuervo (whom I speculate is actually a guy named Doug who is a regular at the weekly club trail runs, and grooms the trails for the Nordic Council) had a finish time listed. It's all good, though-I was in this for training and the fun, not public acknowledgment of a 23rd place finish.

In the end, the Weekend Double was a great idea, and other than feeling pretty tired today, I'm no worse for the wear. It was a good weekend of trying new things, and the new things seemed to help me make good progress toward the goals I've got on the table for fall. I don't know when I may have the chance again to run two races locally in a weekend, but the experiment was successful enough that I will surely try it again if and when the opportunity presents itself.

Treading Trodden Trails For A Long, Long, Time (I Hope!)

2011-06-23T09:50:00.008-06:00

Well, sometimes things don't go according to plan.

Several months ago, I had a racing experience that, other than injuring my ankle, was one of the most positive experiences ever in my four-and-a-half year running history. The 24 Hours of Moab was a great time for our team, and coming within mere minutes of winning our division was icing on the cake. We were all very excited to do it again, and used our repeat-customer discount with Gemini Adventures to register as an Extreme Team (3-5 member team, since one of our original teammates would be running an ultra the same weekend) for the 24 Hours of Laramie. Despite having traveled all over the continental U.S., Wyoming is one state I've never visited, so I was pretty excited for this new adventure.

Fast forward to June. Well, back up a little. In May, one of our teammates said she'd need to back off the team for, as she put it, needing to keep marital harmony. No problem-I think people should do what they gotta do in that department if it's going to be a major issue. That brought us down to four members. Then, another one of our teammates had been having some foot pain, and actually volunteered to be removed from the team. The rest of us unamimously declared that no, you're a Dirty Girl, and we want you there with us if you think you can walk or easy-run at least one lap for the team. Still, this meant that the remaining three of us would be running a LOT of laps. Even though I'm healthy now, I still have a pretty clear mental image of that last lap in Moab when I was SO tired and relaxed that I put myself out of running normally for a good stretch of time. With only a few of us, I would surely get a LOT more tired out there.

Coming into June, I would regularly joke with Nick, our team "Pimp Daddy" as the sole male runner, and ask if he was healthy, telling him he was not allowed to be sick again as he was in Moab when Jen and I, the mamas on the team, could hear him up coughing all night, and kind of wanted to go over to his tent to check on him much of that time. Up until about a week ago, he was fine. Then came the unbeliavable news, though, that some nasty superbug had stricken, or else the illness he had over the winter just never cleared up. He felt like he would not be able to run at the relay, and for Nick to say that, it means he's on death's doorstep. My running joke with him, as the vagabond, wandering park ranger, skiier, and trail runner is that his lifestyle is too sedentary, and he needs to become more active. I was so bummed for him-when he saw the doctor, though, it was confirmed that he was doing to right thing to pull out of Laramie.

The bad news just kept coming, with another teammate who suspected a knee injury learning that she had a torn meniscus requiring surgery. We would have been dead in the water at this point, but the bit of good news was that marital harmony seemed to have been restored regarding the race with the teammate who pulled out in May. Yay, marital bliss! She came back to the team, leaving us with two healthy members, and a third with a foot issue. At present, it still appears that we're going to Laramie as a 3 woman team, but this is not how we expected it to be. We'll just have to do the best we can, assuming the plug is not pulled in the next 24 hours, and run as much as we can for as long as we can.

In better news-I finally found a pair of trail shoes I love. I ran in Salomons for years, and the fit was good for my foot. That said, I always slipped around a ton on the trails while wearing them, and I think that was part of my confidence problem all along. I never relaxed because I never gripped the trail very well. After some looking around and a failed attempt with some Merrells with Vibram soles that I subsequently returned to REI, I found what appear to be my dream trail shoe.

It's the INOV8 Roclite. These puppies are more minimal than any other trail shoe I have ever used, but they do have a bit of support to them. They are by far the most flexible shoes I've ever worn for runnning, too. When I took them for a test run on the Corkscrew trail Tuesday night, a trail against the Colorado National Monument running from our popular Wildwood trailhead that climbs and winds (like the shape of a corkscrew) steadily, with beautiful, steep dropoffs just off the trail, I was blown away by how grippy the INOV8's were. The flexibility allowed my feet to really "grab" the trail without much effort on my part to stay upright, which in turn allowed me to relax. And that, my friends, is big time for me. Relaxed running is the name of the game on trails.

Speaking of that trail run, the Corkscrew route was one that I had not done before, though I've done other trails from that trailhead. It is going to be a great one to train getting ready for Imogene, though, and I think that next time I'm over there, the plan will be to run all the way up to Liberty Cap (about fifteen more minutes of running up, and ON the Colorado National Monument..scroll down to "Liberty Cap" for the description). Then it's going to be a build to being able to get up and down the thing three times, which should be the equivalent of about 18 miles, just a little longer than the Imogene course. All in all, I'm feeling more confident every day on trails. Having new tools in the arsenal this year, from better shoes to POSE running to new routes, makes me know I'm going to run my best Imogene ever this year.

As a final thought today, I will mention another running friend and blogger who is embarking on a great adventure of exquisite pain and beauty this weekend. Chad Silker over at 100-Mile Warrior will be running the Western States 100 this weekend. When I return from Laramie, I can't wait to find out how he did, and I would encourage anyone reading this to check out his blog as he talks about training, the course, and life leading up to this run. If you want to get inspired to try something new and different with running and sport, that's a great place to start.

"You Get What You Give"-the 2011 Steamworks Half Marathon Race Report

2011-06-15T12:52:00.007-06:00

Wake up, kids. I've got the dreamer's disease.

This marked the third time in as many years that I've ventured down to Durango, Colorado, and white-knucked my way along the guardrail-less road on the edge of a cliff out of Ouray to race the Steamworks Half Marathon. Forget flat and fast-this race takes me up 2000 feet or so to a little over 6000 feet, and the hilly course concludes with one long uphill push to the finish. I've resumed a somewhat regular running routine now that my ankle is regaining flexibility and tolerating runs well, but the fact of the matter is still that other than the Boston Marathon, I've only had one other run since then that got up into the two-hour range. Despite that, I still had visions of running a fast race despite lack of recent bit deposits in the bank.

The drive down was actually not as bad as it has been in other years, as there was some road construction going on and a guardrail or two in place along the mountainous route that gave me the comfort (albeit false....it's not like it's going to stop me from going over if I get too close to the edge) to not sweat bullets like I normally do on this drive. It's actually quite a beautiful route, and I marveled at how much snow was still present as I moved past Ouray, Ironton and Silverton. I made it to town with just enough time to make packet pickup, and then joined my friends Ilana with her husband Britt (also my gracious hosts when I am in Durango), and Kevin with his lovely wife Nora (now becoming a runner herself, and nearing the end of the Couch-to-5K plan) for dinner. The weather was picture perfect, the food at the Cyprus Cafe was out of this world, and it was so good to converse and joke with friends I've gotten to know well through running. After dinner, I headed back with Ilana and Britt to their place, laid out my gear, and tried to chill out for a good night of sleep.

I was out decently at first, but remember waking up somewhere around 1 a.m., and probably tossed and turned for a few hours after that. This was rather unusual for me at a race where only I was attending with no family to look after or worry about. The prior several weeks had been very busy and hectic with the end of the school year, and my sleep just hadn't been any good for most of that time. I got up for some coffee and bread, though, around 6, and the ol' caffeine started to wake me up. I caught the bus from the finish area at the Durango Athletic Club, and chatted with Kevin most of the way. Upon leaving the bus, I noticed that the race seemed to adding a port-a-potty a year, up to five from the four in 2010. It still meant for long lines, but we were at least moving in the right direction.

The weather was great for June in Colorado-sunny but still pretty cool. When it was time to line up for the start, I wandered up the hill along the tree-lined road and got ready to go. I really had no idea how I'd fare, time- or placement-wise. Despite the field being limited to 300 runners, many of whom are Team-in-Training participants from New Mexico, there has been a good contigency of talented regional runners and triathletes every year. I just knew I'd do the best I could with what training I'd been able to do since Boston, and that it might not be as fast as if I'd been able to do regular 17-20 milers all the way through late March when I twisted my ankle until now.

As the race began, I got a pretty good, relaxed start but I knew that this wouldn't last as I descended the only true downhill section of the course. This first mile would likely be my fastest as the course would flatten out, and then start rolling. I tried to make the most of the early miles, though, while still leaving enough gas in the tank for the finish. I felt decent but knew I wasn't hammering out effortless speedy miles. I seemed to likely be in the top-15 among women but wasn't gaining anything position-wise.

Continuing on, the temperatures warmed up a bit and I was glad that I had a visor and sunglasses. My breathing was really good, too, but my legs felt a little sluggish. I recalled how back in 2009 I took my very first toning class ever at our dance studio the Monday before Steamworks, and my upper body was STILL incredibly sore five days later on race day. Today, I was noticing that my calves were feeling pretty sore, probably having to do with my adult ballet class two nights prior. It had been the first ballet class for me since March, and boy, had those ballet-specific muscle groups gotten a wake-up. It wasn't so much calf soreness that it was slowing me down, but I didn't have any extra spring today.

Getting to mile eight, the course really was picking up in the hilliness factor. I was tired. My legs didn't have much kick. My breathing was good, though-so at least I had one thing going for me. Make that two....while Moab's The Other Half would be my top pick for most beautiful road half marathon, I'd definitely rank Steamworks second. It's a quiet, uncrowded course with that gorgeous mountain backdrop. I tried to focus on that whenever I really started to hurt. Boy, the hurt sure was coming, too.

I had delusions of running somewhere in the 1:40-1:41 range on this course, but I was realizing that it just wasn't going to happen today with the injury-limited training deposits over the past few months. Heck, I wasn't even on track to come close to my PR time in the 1:43 range from the previous year. I was kind of caught between being frustrated by how this race was going, and knowing that I'm just getting back into the swing of regular running, and should set my goal accordingly. I kept reminding myself to run relaxed, and do everything I could to maintain good POSE running form, which I've been practicing since the fall of 2010.

Getting into the final few miles, I was REALLY wanting to be done with this thing. I was literally fantasizing about the Steamworks beer at the finish, the swimming pool, the complimentary massages, and a black bean burger off the grill. Oh yeah, baby. Dangling a carrot in front of me really works. I felt like I was running pretty ugly at this point, and knew there was no way I was placing today with what was my slowest effort at this race in three runs. Still, I was so close to finishing and pushed myself into not just "one mile at a time" mode, but "run to that stop sign," and "run to the crest of that hill" mode, forcing myself to accelerate as much as possible.

Upon taking the last left turn uphill toward the athletic club, I could see Ilana directing traffic. She was injured but still providing valuable course support, and looked very in charge of that corner into the parking lot. I then saw Kevin and Nora, who cheered for me and took some video as I rounded the corner. I still haven't seen that video and I can only imagine that I look like my "fish out of water" picture in the same spot last year. I hauled buns up the hill and crossed the finish in a little over 1:47, easily my slowest half marathon since 2008.

I was so glad to be done, and wandered over to talk to Kevin and Nora. As it turned out, Kevin had rocked his race, finishing 5th overall and 1st in Men 50-59. I was disappointed in my own finish time but it's kind of a silver lining to see your friends do well. In the end, I was relatively pleased with my placement, though, at 10 out of 90 or so in the 26-39-year-old women age group, and 36th out of roughly 290 finishers. I'm not in to beating myself up, but truth be told, I was thinking a bit about what kind of time I might have run on consistent higher mileage during the spring and early summer. Eventually, though, I pulled myself out of that pity party, remembering that it's just one race, and to treat it as my baseline measure of performance post-injury. I just haven't been able to give as much and put in as many miles as I'd like to while making sure I don't reinjure anything in my ankle. I'm looking forward to giving more love to the roads and trails, though, now that it seems to mostly be "back." Onward and upward from here.

(from left to right: Ilana, me, Nora, and Kevin. Nora is smiling so big and I look so surprised because I'm giving her a spa treatment-er-I accidentally dumped a little of my beer down her back when I reached my arm around her shoulder to squeeze together for this photo. Sorry, Nora. At least your hair will be well-conditioned.)

**As a small footnote, my Garmin has been hiding in a very safe place since my return from Durango. While I am confident it'll turn up somewhere in the next few days, I decided I did not want to wait any longer to do a race report. So, no mile splits for this race. Just know that I got gradually slower as the race went on, my body tired, and the hills got bigger.**

Imogene, Imogene, Imo Imo Imo Gene

2011-06-01T14:14:00.002-06:00

Imma be on the next level. Going from 8000+ feet in Ouray up to the summit of Imogene Pass at a little over 13,000 feet, and back down again on the Telluride side. Oh yes, I'm an excited girl today.

Registration for the 38th Annual Imogene Pass Run opened at midnight earlier today, and after doing everything I could to keep myself awake, I celebrated National Running Day by getting on the computer at midnight for the fourth June 1st in a row, and signing for the 17.1 mile run from Ouray, Colorado to Telluride, Colorado over the Imogene Pass. Well, actually, I registered a friend first who has a very busy life lately and kindly requested it since I'd be up (not without joking that I was going to then take his credit card on a spending spree after registration). Then, I became one of the first 250 people to sign up in the first five minutes after midnight. By the time I got up to run at 5am, I was floored to see that there were nearly 900 entrants, and by shortly after 10am, the 2011 Imogene Pass Run was filled to capacity.

I have to say I'm stoked this year because I'm training for the race, and plan to run it with a different mindset. I have a pretty aggressive time goal, which on one hand seems unrealistic. I set aggressive goals last fall, though, and it paid off in spades to aim beyond a "safe" goal. Safety doesn't really drive me as much as being told I can't or shouldn't do something. I've decided I'm done with giving my reasons and excuses, and am ready to attack the things that need work with my trail running in order to be strong enough to hit that time goal. I'm going to have a good network of people to train with, too. The excitement was contagious among veterans and first-timers alike as the 1500 person field filled rapidly, and I'm looking forward to getting dirty, confident, and strong over the next hundred days.

Next up on my agenda, though, is a big weekend of dance rehearsals and performances. Oh, yes, it's time to put on my Teflon hat and go along for that ride. I love it once I'm sitting in the audience watching the kids, but it's just going to be a little hairy for the next few days before that time. Then, it's on to Durango, Colorado for my third running of the Steamworks Half Marathon. It's another good pre-season training race at altitude, and you can't go wrong with local beer and real food off the grill after the uphill finish. I'll just keep squeezing in the runs here and there over the course of this busy week, and let that recovering ankle dictate pace and distance. It's definitely great to be back to running regularly, and I'm looking forward to making those training deposits all summer long.

A Headless Chicken 5K Video Snippet

2011-05-25T14:39:00.002-06:00

My friend Kevin, who finished sixth at the Chicken, has this little camera that takes videos. He captured me, the chicken (with a head, but don't think deeply on that), our friend Carl, and a local octogenarian runner who broke his hip two years ago and still can run a sub-30 minute 5K on video. Their finishes are a lot more fun. I encourage you to watch those, and not my hocking up a lung. Happy Wednesday, everyone.

"Running Is A Mental Sport-And We're All Headless!" The Mike The Headless Chicken 5K Race Report

2011-05-23T08:59:00.007-06:00

Year after year, people come from far and wide to attend the Mike The Headless Chicken Festival in Fruita, Colorado. Yes, Mike is for real, and not some urban legend. He somehow survived his own decapitation in 1945, and then went on to live another 18 months without a head. Really. You can check out Mike's full story here. Nowadays, we have a weekend-long festival to celebrate the awesomeness that was Mike, complete with vendor booths, food, tractor races, live music, and the "Run Like A Chicken With Your Head Cut Off" 5K race. Because that's just how we roll here.

The race course itself is pretty unremarkable, and not anything that one would choose to drive from hours away to run for the beauty of it. It's just 3.1 miles that runs from the Fruita Civic Center along the semi-rural roads surrounding Fruita, eventually meandering back to where the race began. The real draw-let's be honest-is coming home with some Mike The Headless Chicken schwag. For whatever reason, this works for many who come to run the race, from recreational/non-competitive runners and walkers to some of the best runners in the region. This would be my fourth running of the race, and despite fifth and sixth place finishes amongst women over the past two years, I did not make the podium with only 1st and 2nd place overall awards, and in the past, just 1st place in ten year age groups.

I essentially made a game-day decision to run Mike this year. I had not pre-registered and had a mind to run it, but waited until the morning of the race to decide for sure. I'd hosted a slumber party for my middle daughter's ninth birthday but had gotten a decent night of sleep. I had not run any speed work since my ankle injury other than an early morning workout at the city track two days prior, and even that had not been particularly intense. I was going to get to that "run to the verge of puking" zone and put in my best effort, but I knew realistically that I would probably not run as fast today as I'd be able to later in the summer after more speed work and short distance races.

When I showed up, it was kind of a mob scene compared to years past but the line to register moved quickly. After registration, I got in line for a timing chip. Those of you from bigger cities might think "big whoop," but we don't chip time anything here but the Rim Rock Marathon, so this was a nice effort on the part of Fruita Parks and Rec to improve the quality of the race. There was also an official time clock at the finish along with a huge inflatable finish arch.

I visited with my friends Kevin and Nora from Paonia when I spotted them, and Kevin freely admitted that he, too, was there for Mike schwag. Kevin's pretty speedy, though, so I knew he'd be contending for an age group win and high finish overall. We also ran into my neighbor Carl, who has been a little injured but talked himself into a strict set of rules to allow himself to "fun race" today. I didn't feel primed for my best race ever, but I felt a lot better than I did two weeks prior at the Mother's Day mile-not coughing up a lung or feeling post-illness fatigue. I figured I'd just go with it, run hard, and see what happened.

We all lined up a little before 9am, but there was about a fifteen minute delay in the start as names were still being entered into the computer from race-day registration. I got a little antsy and jogged out and back from the starting area a few times, and then we finally got word that it was time to start. Soon we were counted down, and off we went.

As I started running, my breathing felt pretty decent in the relative scheme of 5K breathing. It's a painful pace, but I was able to maintain something in a range where I normally should fall, pace-wise, regardless of course or how fully trained up I am. There were instantly a good seven or eight women ahead of me. While I did not resign myself to backing off any competitive racing, I could see how far ahead some of the girls were already, and knew it would take a combination of getting lucky with age distribution plus the best effort I could muster today to have a shot at age grouping. I tried to stay relaxed while keeping my rate of turnover high during the first mile, which was really pretty flat with the occasional very slight uphill. After about the first half mile and passing one or two runners, I seemed to be kind of running by myself with folks clear up the road ahead of me and nobody really close behind.

Mile 1: 7:08

Going into the second mile I was really starting to feel the effort but focused on good POSE running and returning to the "zero gear" and really keeping my strides short and efficient (but with the same rate of turnover) when the heart rate really felt like it was climbing. I'm not a "kicker" when I race 5K's, and in a very best case scenario, I might run even splits. Getting to the end of mile 2, I had dropped off the initial pace slightly but was holding on and not coming apart at the seams.

Mile 2: 7:18

The last mile ran slightly downhill for a bit, and I tried to keep up my speed as I made the left turn to go slightly uphill until the final turn for the finish. Oy-I was really feeling it now but kept pushing my way along. This was a different course than the year before, and somehow I was thinking we were finishing where we had the past several years even though I'd clearly seen the finish arch at the start. This screwy thinking-on-the-run was actually great when I made the last turn for the finish and realized, "oh....this is five blocks DOWNHILL to the finish!" I didn't know if anyone was behind me, and I wasn't even sure that I'd cracked the top ten women, but that wasn't the point now. I just wanted a good, solid first effort being speedy since spraining the ankle.

Mile 3: 7:29
Last .12 Garmin measured - :44.64, or a 6:26 pace. Final Garmin time of 22:40. This was nowhere near a PR effort but it also wasn't anywhere near a personal worst, and not the slowest I'd ever run in Fruita. Given my down time in March and April, and that I've been just easing back into things, I was okay with knowing I'd pushed with the best I had today.

I knew in my head that I just wasn't going to place when I was that far back from the leading women, and the age groups were 10-year and only went to the first two places. After hanging out for a long time talking with Kevin, Nora, Carl, and Ernie (another guy from the running club), I figured I should probably shove off and head home. Kevin and Nora, though, said "you never know!" with regard to placing. I figured, hey, maybe I'll hang out a few minutes longer for the door prize drawings and watch the awards. Maybe I'd get a door prize.

For starters, as they went through overall and began age group awards, everybody noticed that the announced times were consistently almost a minute faster than what people had actually run, though the finish order seemed to be correct and consistent. I waited near the back of the crowd, while most of the folks who knew they'd age grouped or hit an overall slot were near the front. Well, they got to 30-39 women, and I was truly surprised, much like I was at the 2009 Winter Sun, to hear myself announced for second place in the age group. My age group is usually well-represented at races and I figured that statistically speaking, I'd probably be well out of awards. I'll be the first to say I got a slightly lucky draw there. For that, I won a Mike The Headless Chicken bistro coffee mug. Coffee-themed prizes are winners in my book, and I was stoked to pick up some extra schwag with the Mike logo. I also won a door prize-a manicure- so it was a double-word-score day for sticking around for the awards. When final results went up, I realized I didn't even crack the top-10 women, with a 12th place finish out of 208. Still, you're there to race who shows up that day, and the women who showed up were all over the board in age.

Now I've got that first "racing as speed work" session out of the way, but I really do intend to make an honest crack at more speed work this summer. I also have other goals, in no particular order: stay uninjured/continue strengthening the ankle (okay, I think that is actually the most important goal), drop down 5-7 pounds to my best racing weight, make a dedicated effort toward doing one speed work session of some sort per week, and gradually increase my mileage again with a focus on balancing road and trail miles 50/50. Officially up next on the racing schedule is the Steamworks Half Marathon in Durango in a few weeks, so I'll work at making as much progress as I can toward those goals during that time.

It's The End Of The World As We Know It...

2011-05-18T13:06:00.006-06:00

...and I feel fine. I hear we've got a rapture coming in a few days, and if that's the case, better log the miles now. The big question is...do I take the end-of-days with a rest day, or do I race the Mike The Headless Chicken 5K?

No, really. I've run this race every year for no good reason, and it's set again for Saturday at the annual Mike The Headless Chicken festival. Colorado is ripe with oddball festivals (hello, Frozen Dead Guy Days in Nederland), and Mike The Fest, as my friend Carrie calls it, is no different. It has your typical cotton candy, bump and jump, and random vendors, but then there's also the world-famous lawnmower races, and the Run Like A Headless Chicken 5K, taking runners around in a square in some combination of heat, rain, and wind. At least, that's been my experience over the past three years. The course is unremarkable, and I've never run it with any great speed. I think maybe that's why I will probably come back swinging at it again this year. I've done no speed work in ages unless one counts that Mother's Day Mile, and haven't raced a 5K in forever. There will be no pressure for me, and I'll be able to go out and get a baseline "speed reading," or, should I say, lack of speed. It's kind of fun because I know that by the end of the summer, I'll be beginning to reap the benefits of racing short distance with a little bit of speed work thrown in here and there.

Among other things, I'm excited to see if I have any difference in racing performance with the combination of lighter weight racing shoes (my obnoxiously orange Newtons), and POSE running technique which is still a work in progress, but something that keeps my heart rate down and my efficiency as a runner higher than it ever has been. The "LIFT-POSE-FALL" gait with relaxed compression of the foot when landing on the ground was strange feeling when I first started getting coached in the technique late last summer, but I'm at a point where it's much more natural than it used to be, and it just makes more sense to run in a way that allows gravity to help me out. This video is a decent jumping-off point to get acquainted with POSE,

as is this Runners World Australia video

There are many other videos there at the POSE-TV Youtube Channel as well. While I am lucky enough to have a training partner who is an excellent teacher and coach of the method, the videos are great supplemental learning material for me, and are a decent second option for those who don't have the option of formal or informal coaching.

In other news, I'm going to go shamelessly proud mama. My middle daughter Kaia just made her TV debut as a Junior Weather Forecaster with one of the local television stations. Yeah, we're extreeeemely local here (the only reason a city our size has its own broadcast affiliates is that we're "four hours from nowhere," as my Dad back east likes to say), but it was still a neat experience. After a full tour of the television studio, Kaia did a few practice run-throughs of her spiel, and did a decent job once she'd loosened up and shook off her initial nerviness.

Now, it's time to move relentlessly forward toward the end of the school year as we know it. My life will get really nutty as the academic year winds down, so it's more important than ever now for me to log those miles and get in the runs.

The Girls on the Run 5K Race Report and Weekly Wrap-Up

2011-05-14T13:22:00.014-06:00

This race report will be a little different as it wasn't a race for time or placement on my part, or on the part of my middle daughter Kaia. First, though, I'm pleased to be able to blog about my return to a regular running routine after the ankle sprain.

I did make it back for a follow-up with the guy on the sports medicine team at the orthopedic doc's office, and rather than getting reamed for running Boston, he said that he would have to call Bryan, the PT, to thank him for fixing me up and getting that ankle ready for a conservative marathon run just in time. That's what I love about the doctors I have seen in this town when running injuries crop up. They all live and play here as well, and try to get patients back out on the roads and trails as soon as is reasonably possible. I was also relieved to be told that it is normal for my ankle to look like the cankle it is right now for some time after a bad ankle sprain, lasting as long as a year in some cases. I don't care if I've got Frankenstein's fat foot if it's not indicative of further damage.

Following the ortho appointment, I went on to have my first business-as-usual running week since the injury. I was able to get in three "early show" runs this week on the paved routes we like to frequent at o-dark-thirty, with an awesomely fun run in the rain on Wednesday featuring not one, but two skunks, and an ensuing chase by one of them. You really get to see how fast you can run when the adrenaline kicks in from the fear of being sprayed. It was a combo of "Oh S#*^!" and laughter as we ran away from the charging animal. I also made one of the weekly evening trail runs with our local running club, which was great because I wound up meeting and running in with a woman that another running buddy had mentioned recently as someone I ought to meet, and try to run with at some point. I like to run alone some of the time, but there are times when it's great to log the miles with others. We chatted away and I never once thought about how hot it was, or that I wasn't all that familiar with the route the club was running that day. We made it through, and kicked back with the rest of the club members at the Beer Cooler of Awesomeness in the Tabeguache Trail parking lot.

Friday brought the beginning of my middle daughter Kaia's Birthday Weekendpalooza. She recently turned in a coloring page at a local store to be entered for a chance to be a Junior Weather Forecaster with our local CBS affiliate, and we got the call last week asking if she'd like to come in and do it. I'll be the first to admit that I don't watch any of the local TV news broadcasts, but after seeing how cool their weather guy was with her, and getting her out of her shell, I might tune in on occasion to these guys. He gave us a full station tour, and really got Kaia at ease to do her spiel. They pre-tape it, so after a few go-rounds, she got through one or two broadcast-worthy weather forecasts. I'd link it up but it'll be a few more days before they upload it to the website. For now, here's one or two shots of Kaia and John, their meteorologist (they have a real one...not just a weather man):

I'd like to note as well that this station has regularly made it out to local road races, and that one of their on-air personalities is a regular speed demon at a bunch of the short distance stuff in the valley. Running doesn't tend to get a ton of media coverage unless someone dies in a marathon, so it's nice that they've been out for things like the Mike The Headless Chicken 5K, and other quirky local races.

Moving on to today-Saturday-it was time for Kaia's official birthday, and the season-ending Girls on the Run 5K for all of the Western Colorado GOTR programs plus the newly formed program in Moab, Utah (I saw Ranna, race director for the three big Moab road races, with the Moab group). They do hold it here in Grand Junction, and the course runs around Long Family Memorial Park and Central High School. It's not particularly scenic but it's a good place to hold an event for 1400 girls and their families.

This was Kaia's first "official" Girls on the Run 5K, but I think she's probably done about a dozen short distance races since she was four ranging from a mile to 5K. I was really just here today to hang out and enjoy the run with her, and that we did. This is an untimed event, and every girl gets a #1 bib. While at a certain level, I'm not wild about the whole "everyone's a winner" idea, I know that's the way in for a lot of these girls who NEVER thought they could do something like this. It takes the pressure of competition off, and quite frankly, the little girls who are more competitive go ahead and race all-out anyway. For others, it may not lead to a lifetime of running, but the training process disguised as fun games and completion of the 5K at the end of the season become a springboard for many to try new things without fear, or selling one's self short. My own running journey started with Team Tiara/Solemates, the fundraising leg of Girls on the Run, and I know I owe part of where I am today as a runner and mom to the program. I'd highly encourage anyone with an area council and interested daughter to check out the program.
This wound up being the first time in several years that it was not cold and windy for the season-ending race (Kaia's older sister, Alexis, went through the program too). It was pretty warm, but I didn't really care as it wasn't a big race day for me. Kaia was pretty excited, and just ready to have fun. Her coach is my son's first grade teacher, and we regularly bump into one another running the local trails, or and at some of the longer distance trail races.

When it was time to start, my plan was to just follow Kaia's pace, but give her some encouragement to keep RUNNING whenever she got the urge to just walk. It's a fine line-I don't want to push hard, but also want to encourage her to go ahead and run the thing, because she's put in the training and and should get to enjoy the payoff and know that she CAN do it. As it turned out, we did run about the first mile before picking up one of her classmates who was having a really hard time and not really enjoying herself. While Kaia could have gone ahead, she was pretty adamant about wanting to stick with this girl, and see it through with her. K is just not a cut-throat competitive kid by nature anyway, but this is just kind of who she is as a person, and something I admire, frankly. She could have been running her own race, but wouldn't leave her friend's side. The way she pulled her along would never have worked if an adult had been doing it, but it was going over really well for one friend to pull and nudge the other along today.

Our school's coach was waiting at about the 2.5 mile mark to run each girl in when she saw them, and did pick up Kaia's buddy at that point to run in with her. By now, another girl from the school who was a bit of a runner had joined us, and we all trotted the rest of the way in together. I'm not really sure what the finish time was, and I don't think any of us cared. The girls were beaming coming through the finish chute as they picked up their medals and moved along to get the all important water bottles, bread, and chocolate milk. From there, we meandered back to our school's gathering area/sign, visited with some of the other girls and families (boy, you know you live in a running-friendly city when two of the girls had raced in Vibram Five Fingers) before heading out. This was probably about the 10th time that one of my girls has completed either the fall or spring season GOTR 5K, and it's fun to be there every time.

From here, I'm going to keep easing back into that regular running schedule, and start doing some base-building for the fall races. I've got a pretty aggressive time goal in mind for Imogene, and think I actually have to tools this fourth time around to shoot realistically for that goal. Even if I don't hit it, that goal is going to help me in training to focus on getting in the long miles on hilly trails, and getting that POSE running to be second nature. For now, though, it just feels good to be back, and off that injured reserve bench.

(New Emerson School GOTR, Spring '11)

Mama Told Me Not To Come: The Mothers Day Mile Race Report

2011-05-09T09:59:00.009-06:00

Or, to get with the theme of "Friends" episode titles, "The One With a Race Report That Takes Longer To Read Than It Does To Run The Race."

Being primarily a long distance runner, and someone who started running seriously four years ago with no high school track experience, paying money to run a mile race probably seems like it wouldn't be my first choice of weekend plans. When the race is a good ninety minutes from my home, too, it just doesn't appear on paper to be something an endurance runner would choose to attend. Part of the appeal, though, when I ran the Mother's Day Mile in Glenwood Springs last year for the first time was that it WAS a foreign and unfamiliar distance, and a chance to get out of my comfort zone. I'd never raced a mile, and I could just experiment with the distance with no rules since it wasn't my main running focus anyway. It was also a totally family friendly event last year, with waves for kids, and awards for speediest Mom, Grandma, and Great-Grandma. Top it off with pie at the end and a general vibe of your small town carnival, and it was a no-brainer to make the return trip this year.

Glenwood Springs was actually my original stomping ground when I moved to Colorado in 1997. My first place of residence in the Roaring Fork Valley was a basement apartment in a totally sketchy building where Doc Holliday is purported to have died. By the time I lived there, though, I would refer to it as The Worst Apartment in Glenwood, a takeoff from that Worst Toilet scene in the movie Trainspotting. Still, it was a nice jumping-off point in my now 14-year Colorado experience, and it's comical to think back to the days of living there with unemployed trustafarian kids laying on the grass doing their daily wake-and-bake as I headed off to work. While it may just seem like a tourist trap downvalley from Aspen and Snowmass, Glenwood Springs has ton of interesting history, and a nice small-town feel. There are lots of neat places to explore in the area, and some cool commercial tourist operations like the Glenwood Caverns Adventure Park, the Glenwood Hot Springs Pool (really great in the winter), and multiple white water rafting companies.

Driving over to the race, I was totally lacking any bit of racey energy. Upon returning from the dance convention I attended with my kids the prior weekend, I had some icky bug overtake my system, with the sore throat, sore neck glands, and that Human Snot Machine thing going on. I'd done some cross-training on Saturday when I felt a little better that I would usually enjoy, but for whatever reason I felt all discombobulated and drained. Throw in a crummy night of sleep, and feeling yucky during my warmup, and I more or less resigned myself to just enjoying myself and fun running. My friend Suzanne, five months pregnant with her first child and actually there to fun run it, assured me that the racing instinct would kick in the second the gun sounded. I wasn't so sure, though. There was no kick in the legs, and the breathing just wasn't right from being sick.

I watched my three younger kids in the 10 and under wave before my turn came up, which was cool. There was some excitement at the start of this race, with a couple of boys going down right after the start as they tried to avoid colliding with one another. Though it looks a little gnarly here, the kids on the ground and going down were up and running again a split second later.

My 9-year-old daughter is doing Girls on the Run this year at her school, and her season-ending 5K comes up next Saturday. She was stoked to do this mile race as a bit of a tuneup event for that, and was the first kid in my family across the finish in about twelve minutes and change. While I always tell the kids to have fun and avoid any talk of time and pace with them, this was a pretty solid effort for a hilly course at almost 6000 feet on this hot and windy Mother's Day.

Somehow, my oldest daughter and I both missed my 7-year-old son coming in. He was apparently ahead of his middle sister for much of the way but she caught up with him, and I think he finished in around 13 minutes and change. Yep, mother of the year right here. I told him I couldn't get a picture of him because he was just too speedy. If he'd been remotely mad at me for missing his finish, he didn't mind at that point. Next, my youngest, the 4-year-old, made her way in. She's a little peanut of a kid but ran the entire way on her short legs, finishing in about 14 minutes with energy to burn. I was pretty surprised, expecting she'd need to walk some of the big hills on the course.

My wave, men and women 18-39, came up after the teenaged age groups, and I moved into the starting area just behind the front running men, and the woman I recognized as the winner of my age group, overall winner, and Fastest Mom award winner last year. I used to get discouraged at races when I'd see competitors who are a lot faster on the whole, but now I see it as a good thing. It pushes me to actually race, and not just run. I still felt pretty lackluster but told myself I'd go for it as hard as I could. The horn sounded and we were off.

The race starts downhill out of the sponsoring medical center's parking lot and heads out onto a neighborhood road before a short, steep hill climb. From the get-go, I could tell that this was a much faster wave than the 2010 edition of the race. I was already about ten women back in the field with quite a few men out front. My lungs were already burning and feeling that all-out mile pace. I remembered to use what I've learned with POSE running, though, using relaxed compression and lifting to float up the hill while keeping my cadence up. I didn't feel good at all, but I did pass a runner or two moving up that first hill without being passed by anyone else. Good...even though I felt like crap I'd done respectably on the first hill.

Next, there was a flat section that was just all about maintaining that rate of turnover, and getting ready for the upcoming small downhill. A lot of people try to hammer the hills and use the downhills to recover, but the good advice I got from a fellow runner to really do the opposite and fly on the downhills has paid off for me in a number of cases. My lungs were really burning by now at this pace but I knew I had to attack the little downhill, and I pushed up that rate of leg turnover as much as I could while still maintaining control and decent form. I passed a few more runners here, and heading uphill to the turnaround I could still see the frontrunning women. Good-I'm not that far out of this. Making my way around the turnaround cone, though, there were other women close behind me. I would need to race my hardest for a shot at the podium or someone else was going to gladly take that spot.

By now my mouth was all weird and clammy from the hard physical effort coupled with not being 100% healthy. Still, I pushed on and reminded myself that it was only a mile. I could suck it up and tolerate the pain for a short time. Looking down at my Garmin for about the first time at .65 miles in, I was surprised to see instantaneous pace was right around a 6:00 mile. Of course, we were on a flat section but this was far better than I'd anticipated based on how I was feeling. It lit a fire under me to fight to move up as many spots as I could. I did have one woman ease past me in this stretch but I also passed two more myself, and a few of the guys.

Soon, I could see the medical center off in the distance, and knew that "what goes down must come up" finish was approaching. I was quickly coming up on a woman with an iPod and earphones, and besides thinking "Why does someone need an iPod for a one mile race?" I also realized that she had NO idea I was coming up behind her. She was cruising along but kind of out to lunch.

Now, as a new racer four years ago, I think a little bit of me thought it was bad or not proper to really race full-out, and figure out how to beat the competition. Now, I get that it's the whole point of racing. She rounded the corner into the medical center parking lot a little wide, and I got right up behind her before sliding in right around the corner. She finally saw me, got out of her autopilot, and then it was just an all-out, haul buns slugfest into the finish. She did wind up winning the battle, finishing about a stride ahead in what looked to be about 6:44 on my Garmin and the official time clock. I was hacking up a lung at this point, but I patted her on the back and managed to utter a "nice finish" between coughing spasms and trying to catch my breath. This wound up being about a 16 second PR and course record from the year before. Go figure....I felt awful going in, and during the entire race. It really does pay to just go into races planning to give it the best effort regardless of how one is feeling going into a race.

This year, they were following USATF rules, and thus the top three male and female finishers were pulled out of each age group for overall awards with no double-dipping in age groups. I knew that all the top times had come from my wave, so I was guaranteed to place in age group, but wasn't sure the position since I didn't know the ages of the other ladies ahead of me, and was not quite sure if I'd finished fifth or sixth overall woman. After a major delay in getting awards started (my only minor complaint about the race, since they don't mail prizes and we had to make the drive back home), they announced my finish time as 6:52 and winner of the 30-39 age group. While it appeared that the chip timing had some problems and was a little off, this still didn't change my overall position. I was surprised and stoked to have the finish placement I did despite never feeling good during the mile.

Last year, the awards were necklaces commissioned through the Imani Workshops in Eldoret, Kenya, which is revenue-generating social enterprise focused on producing high quality crafts by HIV+ artisans in Western Kenya. They also had a booth this year where my older daughters purchased some earrings, and my son picked out a bracelet to "give" to me for Mothers Day. (It wasn't HIS money but it's the sentiment that counts.) This year, the prizes were these beautiful aprons made from traditional fabrics. I loved this because it's just so different, and socially conscious to boot. As it happened, my apron matched what I'd worn to race in perfectly so I threw it on for a photo op.

This was a good way to start the summer racing season and kind of re-lit that fire in the belly to race again at the short distances. It was also cool to watch the kids having fun, wander around, and have that all-important Mother's Day pie. Maybe I won't make it up to Glenwood every year, but it was a nice way to spend "my" day in 2011.

Another Blog You Should Read Today

2011-05-05T16:41:00.005-06:00

Happy Cinco De Mayo. I'd like to direct folks over to Jenny Goellnitz's blog for her race report from the Big Sur Marathon. Some folks in online running and blogging circles know her by her handle "The Learned Foot." For those unfamiliar, read her story here first. Coming from a diagnosis of advanced stage Hodgkin's Disease just four years ago to making her unlikely dream race, the Big Sur Marathon, a reality this year just puts a smile on my face, and I hope it does for others as well. Besides being a high mileage runner, Civil War buff, and cancer survivor, she loves to play around with her camera and take it out in the woods on her runs, so be sure to check out her photo albums on the blog as well-especially the Rave Runs section. Her story reminds me to make the most of every day, and keep doing those things that you love.

Here's Where The Story Ends (And Begins)

2011-04-28T16:29:00.005-06:00

"It's that little souvenir of a colourful year which makes me smile inside."

I've been doing a 30-day song challenge, and this was one of my picks the other day for a song you listen to when you're sad. It puts a smile on my face and un-bums any bummy mood.

It's been a colorful year for sure, and quite the eventful spring racing season, which wrapped up for me with Boston, and left me almost a little surprised that I really was through all the goal races for the season. It was almost anti-climactic to run the race and not have anything break down physically, and realize that I'd made it through.

Now, that gives way to the unofficial official late spring and summer racing season. This time of year is all about fun. Lots of local, short distance races take place that I use as the lazy girl's speedwork. Though it gets hotter than the surface of the sun here in July (okay, I'm exaggerating a bit), the longer daylight hours, coupled with my kids being out of school, make it easier and more enjoyable to get out and run. A LOT. And, like any runner who likes to race and put events on the calendar, it's already time to think about the fall schedule. Several pieces of the puzzle are already in place for me. I have my guaranteed entry at the NYC Marathon thanks to my pixie dust run at The Other Half last October, and registered before the early deadline for that same race, which is sort of my signature event.

In the past week, chatter has been building on two other events. I'll be reuniting with most of my teammates for the 24 Hours of Laramie in late June, put on by the same folks who did the 24 Hours of Moab. Our team really gelled the first time around, and even though it'll be a different experience, I know it'll be great. Secondly, it's already time to start thinking Imogene Pass Run registration. This is looking like a year when everyone I've ever known who has run the event in the past plans to register again, and I'm stoked to hurl the monkey off my back from last year, too. I've been talking with a friend who ran it for the first time last year and also had a less-than-stellar race that day who is taking another swing at it in the same mindset, and it's making last year's bad race a very distant memory, with true belief that this is my year to have a great race going from Ouray to Telluride the hard way.

In other "never say never" non-news, I did something I swore I'd never do this week:

I've alternated in the past between having no opinion on 26.2 stickers, and thinking they were a little pretentious. I got this same sticker at last year's Boston and never put it on the car, though it must be said that there was a shift to the "not pretentious after all" when I saw that my friend Ilana had put hers on her truck last year. Well...after everything I went through with the injury, not knowing if I could race at all, and then not knowing if I could finish, it meant enough to me this year that I do want to show a little pride public about it. It's a nice souvenir from a day that almost didn't happen. And.... now you guys know a few more truths about me-I live in the high desert, and don't like to shell out for car washes for a vehicle that's always getting dirty somewhere.

This has turned out to be a good week for post-marathon easy running with no schedule, as regular life is moving at warp speed. I had my annual professional licensing inspection this week, passing with flying colors again but not without the usual stress in the days leading up to the day. When that was over, though, I had to turn my attention immediately to another matter that does not affect me directly, yet is very important nonetheless that I attend to it and offer my full input. Yeah, I'm being annoyingly vague but it's one of those deals. From there I leap to a weekend as a chaperone at a dance convention in Denver with my two oldest daughters. This is equal parts joy to watch them perform and take workshop classes, as well as watching the insane talent and athleticism from other studios, and misery when it comes to being indoors all weekend with lots of hairspray, dance moms and squealing (mostly) girls. I'm just praying for better weather than last year's convention, when I found myself near the top of Vail Pass on the return trip on a closed highway in a blizzard. Until then, I'm just going to breathe, worry about one project at a time....oh, and get out for one last trail run tonight before the next chapter of insanity begins.