Soul Meets Body: The 2012 Moab RedHot 55K

Moab RedHot 33K and 55K Finish Area by Eric Hubbs

I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new

(apropos theme music, since the lead singer from Death Cab for Cutie has since switched his energies from partying and drinking to running, as he explained in this cool interview in the Runners World regular feature "I'm A Runner.")

Moab RedHot week arrived in a big hurry this year. I had grand plans for back-to-back long runs every weekend in preparation, and a general bump-up in mileage to prepare for this race. Training didn't go exactly as planned, but I came into the weekend knowing I'd been smart and backed off at times when it was necessary. I'd logged a long trail run every weekend, and spent nearly all running time on hilly trails, with the exception of weekly track workouts and short distance races. Though I didn't hit them every weekend, there were several back-to-back hard run weekends, and a steady bump-up in time on feet for each week's long run, peaking with a 28 mile run with seven hours on feet and about six hours of actual running time. Heated power yoga/vinyasa yoga 2-3 times a week since last August has been the x factor that's strengthened me physically, and tremendously with the mental aspects of running and racing. On lower mileage and louder background noise in life this year, I carried more calm confidence than I'd ever felt before a goal race.

The week prior brought some worry and uncertainty, with an ankle that was strangely tweaky to the point that it hurt to bear weight at times.After last weekend's race and short trail run, I took two days completely off, and by happenstance wound up doing my only two runs of race week on the same day; an easy, sunny midday run, and the standard Wednesday evening track workout, which was geared toward many of us racing a few days later. Not a conventional or recommended approach, but both workouts felt good and reminded me what decent running felt like without taxing the body.

I swore I'd take the next two days completely off from exercise, but was kind of climbing the walls with excess energy. I'm sure there were more than a few people who wanted me to shut up and calm down at track night....I was in a troublemaking mood. So, I did make one more yoga class on Thursday, conscious that it wasn't the night to incorporate new, more challenging variations to my practice. When Friday came, things just started to flow. The Moab forecast was too amazing to be believed for Saturday, and ride/condo sharing came together pretty seamlessly. There was some pre-race mojo building on the drive over...

(Marty's first attempt...wound up looking like crumpled black tinfoil glued to toenails, resulting in a do-over)

Our crew did packet pickup, dinner, headed back to the condo, juiced (no, not the illegal kind...we fired up the juicer that Elizabeth brought down, and made yummy stuff with fruits and veggies), and turned in for a good night of sleep. Or so we thought; those of us in bedroom two spent an hour or so giggling and commenting about how weird the row of twin beds was, like a college dorm suite or military barracks. We did fall asleep at some point, though, because soon the 5:15 a.m. alarm sounded. Time to get moving.

Sandra's husband Eric was our support crew, and drove us to the starting area at the Gemini Bridges trailhead just north of Moab, grabbing Jen from her hotel en route. Sandra made a race day song mix, which included "Sexy And I Know It," the last song on the running club video year in review for 2011. It's such a silly song but was the right mood and swagger for the day. I'd missed the drop bag dropoff last year, with the truck leaving promptly at 7:15. This time, we were there with plenty of time, and I easily found the pile for aid station #4 at 21 miles, where I would send my bag. I'd added a few items, including socks, sunscreen, an extra shirt, and a visor. After a short warmup with a stop on the red rocks to watch the spectacular sunrise, I knew I was in the zone to run this. As a runner, I am by nature very type-A....goal and pace driven. Over the past two years, I've been exposed to different ways of running, training, and racing, though, and have learned to be better at feeling my pace, and effort. It's been a good shift. I did have some goal times in my head initially, but Marty made the good reminder to run without expectation at the pace I felt I could sustain for some time and see how it felt, rather than running as a slave to my watch which would't help me run faster or slower anyway. I have a hard time going totally zen runner with no watch, but any shift away from constantly checking my pace or doing math to figure out if I am going to make a goal time has yielded positive results and more energy for racing.

As starting time approached, more runners started to file in, lots of familiar faces started to appear for the 55K, including Mike who started the "Ultra Dogs" Facebook group for mostly Western Slope ultra runners, John, who gave me the excellent "smile and have fun" advice at this race last year, Kevin, who had run this every year and finished highly each time, and Victoria AKA Toto, a Fort Collins runner I "knew" from the RWOL forums, but got to meet in person for the first time today. Some of the 33K runners were arriving as well, including Bernie, Kevin's wife Shannon, John's wife Julie, Kathaleen, my oh-dark-thirty running partner Laura, and Elissa, who also teaches at the yoga studio. As the sun rose, the positive energy with the crowd seemed to rise as well. The temperature was perfect, and air quite still. My first experience with this course involved snow, ice, and mud bogs; the second experience had rain and wind. The third time was the charm on the dream forecast. Soon, Chris Martinez, the race director, was giving us the final instructions, holding up the trail flags ("Pink...YES! Blue...NO!"), and we were off to the races.

The RedHot 55K course has about 4100 feet of elevation gain and 4700 feet of loss, starting with an immediate climb. This was very challenging each of the past two years, but today, I could feel right off the bat that I'd done something right in training. I got into a zone where I found a high cadence and relaxed body, and didn't feel like I was clobbering myself from the get-go. I'd been warned to take it easy and relax at first but just felt the urge to push a bit because I felt good, so I did. Cresting the hill after the first mile, I smiled and soaked up the rays from the sun, relaxing and letting the legs turn over at a natural, unforced pace down the hill into the first valley.

The first five miles came and went without me being aware at all of my pace or distance. While I did run with a Garmin, I was ignoring it for the most part, occasionally making sure I was running in a zone that would get me to the 18 mile cutoff prior to 12:30 in the afternoon. The first big turn up to the 55K mile cutoff (33K runners just go straight through, while we take the cutoff for a 14 mile loop) had been rocky and scrabbly the year prior; this year, it had taken the form of smoothed out road. Though there was some pretty steady climbing, it was a fun and varying route, with some scampers and climbs, and some more even and flat-ish sections. Ten miles arrived without any fanfare. Ignoring the watch really kept me running in the now, and accidentally behind the iPod I was going to use to take a few videos freed me up even more to just savor the views and store them up in my mind. Lest anyone believe I was getting too zen and tree-huggy out there, I also had "Sexy And I Know It" running on a continuously repeating loop in my brain. Redfoo with the Big Afro, Animal Print Pants Outta Control.

Somewhere around this point, I picked up with a woman who would be with me for much of the next 18 miles. I never got her name, but she was probably slightly older than me, and a very experienced ultra runner with several 100-mile finishes, including the Leadville Trail 100. I was pretty relaxed, but dialing in to her uber-chill, casual, workmanlike approach to running was great. I mentioned that I was soon running my first 50-miler and thinking about the 2013 LT100, saying it was the same week as my 40th birthday, but that it really wasn't that far off. She said "Oh, you've got PLENTY of time!" It was a chance conversation, but these are the little things that have a big impact when it comes to saying "no, that's silly, I can't do that," and "oh, okay. Take my time, do the work, put in the training. I can do this."

She plugged away at a steady pace, moving with a nice, natural flow and rhythm. I started playing with my own rhythm and flow, and was helped by a frequent reminder by the instructors at our yoga studio to move and flow with intention. I looked for the most natural route across the terrain rather than flattest or most straight line. It allowed me to run in a way that used my whole body evenly, and, dare I say, with a shred of gracefulness rather than clumsiness...my trademark on trails for so long.

Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations

With the 14 mile loop nearing an end, I felt warmed by that glorious sun. The trail started to pitch downward as I headed back toward that 18 mile cutoff, running me toward a spectacular "Red White and Blue" view of the red rocks, the LaSals capped with snow, and the clear blue skies. I did remember that I'd taken about 3:45 to reach the 18 mile cutoff last year, making it easily with a full 45 minutes to spare. Today, I appeared to be on track to be twenty minutes ahead of that mark. Coming back down the steep hill off the loop, I turned right toward the last 16 miles of course, ran through some sand and hit the cutoff point at 3:23. The finish was still a long way off, and I was entering the toughest part of the course. This was also what I consider to be the most beautiful part of the course, and I felt great. I just knew deep down today that I could, and would keep up this pace. I've said it many times, but I am fortunate to live here and have the good health to get to run this stuff. I wanted to make my mark today, knew I'd PR, and was beginning to think about what I'd need to do to finish in under seven hours. I started talking to another runner, and we realized we met each other and ran together for much of last year's race; it was Mindy from Fort Collins. It was pretty cool to see a familiar race face, and that we were pacing faster than we'd run in the previous year.

Climbing straight up for several miles, I eventually hit that aid station #4 where my drop bag was located. The visor had been a random "oh, I guess I will throw that in there too," item, but the sun was so intense that it had been a very fortuitous random pitch into the bag. I'd remembered to slather myself in sunscreen, but this would be great to keep my face cool and protected even more. I had my once-a-year Coca Cola at this aid station, along with a sliver of peanut butter sandwich. I'd been hydrating well, alternating water and Heed, and taking a GU Roctane every hour, and was ready for my little "entering late stages" treat. I didn't hurry myself, but went on my way as soon as the sandwich was gone. The Coke was delicious; I trotted off with a little extra kick in my step, not too far behind the 100-mile lady and another guy.

And I cannot guess what we'll discover
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels

We entered a section of the course that had a lot of off-camber slick rock, meandering up and down over and over. There was also a lot more dirt and soft sand this year than I remembered in either of the previous two runs at this race; it wasn't surprising, though, because it's been mild without any massive snow dumps. It was pretty warm and I was really sweating. It felt good, though. That expression about sweat cleansing from the inside is so spot-on, and it kind of feels like a spa treatment when you combine it with the trail dirt.

Around mile 22, things started to change and get a bit rough for me. I had IT band issues as a new runner due to a mileage increase that came too quickly, and running in just one pair of shoes, only on pavement, that were well past their usable life span. It was a distinctive kind of pain that just locked things up from the outside of my knee upward, and I was starting to feel that again on the outside of my right knee. Nooooooo! If this got worse, it was going to be all over; I'd be hiking it in, and painfully. 100-miler lady was a few hundred feet ahead, flowing along, gently criss-crossing in a kind of skiing motion down the slick rock. It made sense for me to try this to avoid pounding on my downhill (right) leg at the same angle. Amazingly, this seemed to help decrease that IT band twinge. I was feeling a little mentally off my game here, though. I just kept moving along, one leg in front of the other, and tried to flow with purpose. I was reminded of another thing we hear at yoga pretty frequently: "Play Your Edge." My edge between not challenging myself enough, and pushing too hard/hurting myself was the criss-crossing skitter downhill, and giving a little push on the uphills, which were feeling surprisingly good.

Finally, around mile 25, I reached a point where the IT band twinginess subsided, and focus came back. I was sort of all alone at this point in the race last year, but this time around, there were always a few people in front of, or behind me. Hitting the marathon point, 26.2 miles, I did check my watch, and noted that I was 22 minutes ahead of my pace in the same spot a year ago. I'd lost a little bit of the cushion from my time ahead at the 18 mile cutoff but not much...and this had been over the steepest part of the course.

Moving toward the final aid station, I talked with 100-mile Woman and Other Guy, eagerly anticipating my last stop for Coca Cola before the finish at aid station #5. Other Guy was very excited about the Coke too, and it became the "Run To the Coke" section before the "Run to the Beer" section before the finish. We hit the 28 mile aid station, and I looked around...Other Guy could see me looking too and we realized before I even asked that they were out of Coke. Egads. Okay, not crucial physically, but I'd SO been looking forward to it. Oh well. I thanked the aid station workers and headed out, on a mission now to get through the last six miles with a good push. There were a few climbs remaining, and then I hit a nice flat section just before the descent. Here's where all that track time for the past few months kicked in and did its thing. I started cruising relaxed through here, thinking 100 Mile Lady and Other Guy would be coming along. To my surprise, I dropped them and never saw them again during the race. I saw one other runner here and passed him pretty easily before starting to drop down sandy, rocky trails toward the finish along the river.

At 32 miles, I could see that I might be on track for a sub-7 hour finish until I realized, no, this borrowed Garmin has autopause set. I probably wasn't going to make it, but I'd tricked myself into thinking I could for the past hour or so. This was a case where it was definitely very good to have that thing on my wrist. Still, I knew I'd had very short stoppage times at the aid stations, eating and drinking what I'd needed without lollygagging. Who knows. I might be close...I need to push for it, I told myself.

And I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too

I got another amazing "Red White and Blue" view again here that nearly made me cry for joy. It was the Canyonlands off in the distance, the snowcapped mountains, and blue skies. Man...it was something else.

I was getting tired but felt different than last year when I couldn't have gone a step further after 34 miles. If you'd surprised me here and said "you have to run 40 miles today," I think I could have done it. It would have been ugly, but do-able. I channeled it all into making the most of the last two miles, increasing my cadence as the jeep road switched back down the hill toward the river. With less than a mile to go, I was smiling but putting out every last bit of "umph" I had in me. I passed someone who yelled "looking good! Love your shorts (My rainbow striped Ocean Pacific shorts over tights)! You're almost there!" In the midst of all this beauty, I still had Sexy And I Know It playing over and over in the head. Sometimes, you get a song stuck in the brain and it's best to just let it keep playing instead of fighting it. It kept me distracted at times when I was able to use it to block out pain and fatigue, and made me giggle at the absurdity of that song as my race day mantra.

I thought I had more ground to cover, but turning the curve I saw that I WAS there...just a few more hundred yards. I heard a few "Go Karah!"'s and realized my friends had spotted me, and skittered through the rocks and down the road as quickly as I could. I was there, I was in, and done. I was grinning and filled with joy. I wasn't sure what my official time looked like, but it would be a solid PR for sure.

The first person I saw at the finish was Toto, and I talked to her for a few minutes.

Although she said she'd "blown up," she'd run a rock solid 5:50. The next thing I did was grab my soup in a bread bowl and beer, and then checked out the results. I wanted to see how our fast local guys had done. My eyes popped and my smile got bigger when I saw that Kevin, not a sponsored athlete but definitely a dark-horse possibility to win, had won the whole thing, and in hammer dropping fashion with five minutes separating him from the second place runner. He's one of those guys who loves to train and work hard, is somewhat introverted when you first meet him, and not one to talk about his awesome, so this was super cool to see his name atop the results page. I talked briefly with several other friends who raced or came down that day to watch the finishes and celebrate, and pulled up some chair by Julie, John and Kevin to finish my soup and beer. Everyone had a great run, but Kevin obviously had the best of all. When I asked about his race, I learned that he had not been in the lead to start, but executed well throughout and drew on stuff like his experience on this course, track background and weekly track to log the win. A sweet victory for a deserving guy.

Bernie, Masters Winner/New Course Recordholder in the 33K, and Kevin, 55K Winner

I was starting to shiver a little, and headed down to Eric's car to change into dry clothes. I was worried I might miss Sandra's finish but she wasn't in yet, and trotted up the trail a bit with Ben who had come down following 5K and 10K races in Fruita that morning. We staked out a spot where they'd apparently been watching for each of us earlier, where there was a clear view up the switchbacks. We thought we saw her coming but we weren't sure. I knew she'd planned to change into a lucky shirt when she reached her drop bag but unfortunately I didn't think to ask ahead of time which shirt it was. Then, we did see her make her way around a curve at around the eight hour mark. Leila ran up to greet her excitedly.

We chased down after her, and after never slipping, stumbling or falling on the race course, I nearly took myself out trying to run in Crocs with a camera in one hand and a beer in the other. Classy. Good times. I made a total recovery, though, and we made it to the finish area to celebrate Sandra losing her ultra running virginity.

Getting some love from the soup in a bread bowl and beer table guy

Chatting it up with Ben, who was one of several friends who came down to catch the finishes and join the postrace celebration after racing in Fruita that morning

Getting to enjoy the finish with her hubby and our crew guy Eric

The rest of the day was just about hanging out and celebrating everybody's efforts on the course. We all made it to the Eddie McStiff's afterparty (my first time attending), and it appeared that anyone still in town after the race was there. Our entire Grand Junction group was there, and it was a neat opportunity to mingle with other runners. The free beer and snacks were pretty sweet as well.

All in all, the race was a great success for me. My final time wound up being a few minutes over seven hours at 7:06, but it was a 32 minute PR with a strong finish. I think that knowing better how to train for these things, and with next year being my potential third run at this race, another half-hour PR is entirely in the cards. The outside of my right knee is definitely a little whispery, so I am staying off of it for any running this week. I have, however, logged two yoga classes and two short and easy hikes to keep the active recovery moving along. Next up? Local stuff, and, not surprisingly, another trip to Moab. I will just enjoy this week off from running now, though, and will get crack-a-lackin' on resuming training for my spring season's big race, 50 miles in my own backyard in April with a bunch of dirty Desert Rats.

New Shoes: The Weekend Wrap-Up

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

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

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

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

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.