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

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!)

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

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

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

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

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...

...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.