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.

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.

"So Simple, Even A Caveman Can Do It"-The 115th Boston Marathon Race Report, Part Two

I know the above to be true, because I saw it go down. More on the caveman later.

When I last left off, it was all puppydogs and hummingbirds and good vibes as wave two began at the 115th Boston Marathon. I really had no way of predicting, though, what my body might do today. I had not run a true long run since the 17-miler I did on March 12th, the week before the Canyonlands Half. I wondered if I'd really been able to hold on to my fitness, or if I was somewhat deconditioned and looking at glycogen depletion some time later in the race no matter how conservatively I paced. With that in mind, I had NO pressure to run faster if I felt good coming out of Hopkinton.

The Boston course has a downhill start, and is notorious for sucking people out fast only to rear its ugly head at those who started too quickly by the time they hit the Newton Hills. Right away, I could tell that my lungs and breathing didn't just feel okay, they really felt terrific. This was a far cry from Canyonlands in March, and also better than I felt at Boston last year. With the three wave start, I also had far more room to move than a year ago when I nearly took out another runner with a slight shift to the left. Throw in the fact that I'd vowed to run with my head, and I felt fantastic through the first four miles. I was checking my Garmin regularly, but not to make sure I was going fast enough. I wanted to make sure I didn't drift too fast down the hills because I felt good. The legs were very fresh. Thinking to the Missoula Marathon last July when I felt rotten for the first four miles, this was encouraging.

Mile 1: 8:08

Mile 2: 8:09

Mile 3: 8:15

Mile 4: 8:13

It was a true relief to not have feelings of impending disaster from the get-go. Yeah, yeah....you can't tell anything about how the race will play out this early if you're feeling good. Still, it was better than the alternative. Settling into a groove and feeling decent, I was really able to focus outward to enjoy the race atmosphere. There is fan support from beginning to end on the course, but the nice weather this year may have played a part in the crowds being a bit larger and louder. And drunker. Man, these people come out and start drinking EARLY. There were lots of little kids on the course, and when I could get to them easily I'd slap 'em five.

It was amazing to look at the other runners, too, and be in awe of the reasons that some people were running, and how far many had come to be at the Boston Marathon. People ran with the names of relatives and friends for inspiration. Many had fundraised large amounts of money for causes near and dear. There was one guy with a "Thank You Boston EMS and (Hospital Name)-Revived and Recovered" on his shirt. I knew there was someone from Nebraska near me for most of the race because I frequently heard "GOOOO NEBRASKA!" or "NEBRASKA....I'VE HEARD OF THAT PLACE!" There were runners wearing singlets and hats from running clubs all over the U.S. and world, and it was fun to read them all. I observed, or heard fans shouting for runners from (and this will be a partial list...just what I remember) Canada (which reminded me of my Canadian friends and former neighbors Allen and Freda), Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Japan, England, France, Germany, and Scotland (that girl had a kilt and "A Skosh for Scotland-Glasgow to Boston" shirt). Then there were the senior statesmen and women of our sport. Prior age group finishers from the 60+ and 70+ age groups ran with special back bibs that noted their age and status. I saw several women with "F60" on their backs...usually ahead of me and pulling away.

The above was early on in the race. Just a beautiful day out there.

As I moved on along the course, things still felt good. I had a slight but expected slowdown as the ground leveled out. I think this was around the point on the course when I got my first comments on my-er-"colorful" ensemble. I chatted with other runners here and there, which was good...I could do it without feeling like I needed to stop and keel over.

Mile 5: 8:23

Mile 6: 8:17

Mile 7: 8:09

Mile 8: 8:24

Mile 9: 8:18

Mile 10: 8:16

As the scholar and philosophist Madonna once sang, "Don't Stop Me Now, Don't Need To Catch My Breath, I Can Go On and On and On." (She was talking about......dancing. Yeah. Let's just pretend that's what it's about. And that applies to running too.) The good thing is that I was really feeling this today. So far, the ankle was thankfully quiet. I knew that could change in a second, though, and the thought of a DNF or doing something that would put me out of running long-term kept me in check.

In the next few miles, I spotted the Hoyts. They've been running together for years-in fact, my Dad remembers them at races in the DC-area way back in his running days in the 1980's. I spotted them further up in the Newton Hills last year, but Dick Hoyt recently had back surgery and I think it was a lot tougher for him this year. I love that he's still out there, and getting it done, pushing his son, no B.S. Besides the Hoyts, I saw a number of athletes from the Achilles Track Club, whose disabled members compete in mainstream athletic events. Seriously...a runner who could not find inspiration within themselves or surrounding them on the course this Patriots Day would be more or less hopeless.

Mile 11: 8:18

Mile 12: 8:11

Mile 13: 8:19

Almost halfway through, and I still felt good. Rather than feeling de-conditioned, my legs felt fresh and springy. My breathing still felt good, and it wasn't just the sea level factor. Though my pacing was more conservative this year versus Boston 2010, I felt outstanding for this point in the marathon.

Now, things started to get interesting. I heard the crowd going nuts for someone, and turned to look. It's this dude, running barefoot, wearing a long black caveman wig, and wearing nothing but a loincloth and leaf armband. This loincloth was very, very, VERY small. I didn't want to turn and stare but I could see...cheek. I did not crane my neck to get a front view for fear of things I might not be able to unsee. The crowd loved him and he was eating it up.

We were approaching the famed Wellesley College scream tunnel, which meant that little iPod would come out again to record the noise. This is a famous spot on the course where the women of Wellesley College line the course, scream their heads off, and hold signs that say "Kiss Me, I'm _____." Seriously, take your pick. There's every fill-in-the-blank option on a sign there somewhere.

The first of the walking wounded were beginning to appear now. Runners were starting to pull off to the side to stretch, shake out something that hurt, or otherwise work on something that was bugging them. As I've said, sometimes it's your day, and sometimes it's not. Though it had nothing to do with going for a PR or even running faster than my only other Boston run, this was clearly my day. The ankle was still silent. I had energy. Nothing felt icky. And...I was thoroughly enjoying the sights and sounds around me.

Mile 14: 8:23

Mile 15: 8:36

Mile 16: 8:28

Now, we were approaching the famed Newton Hills. There's a lot of talk about these hills from runners regarding their difficulty and size. My take? It's not the size of the hills, but where they fall on the course, and how the runner has paced prior to arriving at said hills. I'll be the first to say that I've got an advantage living where I do. My neighborhood has a name that denotes the hilliness factor, and I've got hilly trail access immediately in front of and behind my home, with the major trail running and mountain biking area in our city about three minutes away. I didn't feel great last year, but the hills still felt decent when I found them. This year, they were really not bad at all. I slowed down just about as much as I expected here, but not any more than that. I could hear my breathing relative to others around me who were panting and overexerting themselves, and mine was quite calm by comparison. I was abiding by the ankle, though, and just enjoyed the fact that I was still on BQ pace and feeling good.

Mile 17: 8:50

Mile 18:8:50

Mile 19: 8:28

Mile 20: 8:38

Mile 21: 9:12

Well, wow. I was now twenty miles in, and no blowup yet. The ankle? Maybe it was whispering a little, but not more than anything else in my body at this point. YES-I was going to finish today. I knew it now. If the ankle freaked out on me, I knew I could still walk it in and log an official finish time. To quote Kevin Smith's directorial debut, "Clerks"-"I'm not even supposed to be here today!" There were people dropping like flies right and left by now. It was warmer, and I'd been meticulous about my fueling strategy, alternating water and electrolyte beverages, stopping at all aid stations, and sucking down a 2x caffeine Gu Roctane every hour. All systems were go, no sign of cramping or stomach upset.

I was feeling fatigued yet invigorated to be so close to the finish, and gave my pace a little punch in the next mile. Felt decent, and I was a mile closer to being through this.

Mile 22: 8:19

Next mile, though, I could feel a little bit of leg heaviness. Nothing that felt like total glycogen depletion, or "hitting the wall" as it's called...just some general fatigue and heaviness. Not sure if this was me dialing back on purpose or just natural attrition at this point in the race, but the next mile was a little slower. Still, I remember how I felt at this point last year, and I was in far better shape. And another mile closer to finishing the race I wasn't supposed to be running until a few days ago.

Mile 23: 8:27

Mile 24: 8:20

Really? A little negative split? I was absolutely dying at this point last year, but focused on a strong finish. This is one of the least scenic parts of the course, and it was obvious to me last year. This year, though, I felt like I was just gathering steam late in the game now that I knew the wheels were not going to come off, and the ankle would tolerate a little bit of a late-race push. Some guy hollered out from the sidelines that he dug my fluorescent orange shoes (I'm not flashy on purpose...just love to race in Newtons, and they don't make anything that just blends into the scenery) and I slapped him a high-five as I ran past.

Eventually, I got my first view of the famed Citgo sign, but knew it was still quite a ways away. I felt REALLY strong...and very emotional when I felt this strength rising in me. This has been a challenging year beyond the injury, but nothing negative had been in my mind at all in this race. I thought about how privileged I was...both physically, and culturally, to be able to run the Boston Marathon. I knew I was lucky, and wanted to appreciate this moment for all it was worth. This is where I saw the woman running in the shirt with "Thank You Dad, Title IX and KV Switzer" on the back. I ran up to her to say that I loved her shirt, and she thanked me with a warm smile.

Mile 25: 8:12

Another negative split, and now it all boiled down to the final 1.2 miles. My running math is terrible so I just wanted to hammer out this last mile like I'd never run a marathon again, and be spent at the finish. I had a huge smile on my face, listening to the crowd and picking it up as much as I could. And then...who is that? It's the Barefoot Running Caveman! We were coming around the right turn together onto Hereford, and he was in full Caveman crowd-pleasing mode. In the back of my head, this evil little impulse came over me to run up behind him and smack his Caveman butt, thus upstaging the caveman show and probably creating a good photo-op for a few people. I reigned myself in, though...after all, that's probably akin to sexual harrassment. So, I just kept going, as hard and fast as I could.

Mile 26: 8:04 (my fastest mile of the race!)

After that, there was no more video, pictures, butt-slapping thoughts, or anything else. It was just me, coming down Boylston Street, overcome with positive emotion. I was smiling like a freak all the way down to the finish, not wishing it all to be over but feeling SO fortunate to have been here at all to race. Don't get me wrong...spectating would have been great, but there was nothing like having this racing experience today.

Garmin's just approximate, and with a crowded race and less than perfect tangent running late in the game, this last split is for .53 miles.

.53: 3:31, or a 6:49 pace.

Finish time at the 115th Boston Marathon by Garmin: 3:41:38. Official race time: 3:41:36. This was good for 2958 by gender, 2130 by division (age group), and 10,976 overall. I was also part of a record-breaking year for female finishers a mere 44 years after Kathrine Switzer broke the gender barrier at this race, with over 10,000 female finishers at the 115th Boston Marathon. Progress, baby.

So, there you have it. Not "How To Run The Boston Marathon Without Even Trying," but "How To Run Boston With The Best That You've Got That Day, And Long Term Running In Mind." I believe that I did this. Half of my friends and medical establishment were telling me not to do it, and the other half were telling me to proceed with caution. I had two weeks of absolutely no physical activity after that spill at the 24 Hours of Moab, and then just two short test runs, two short bike rides and an easy afternoon of cross country skiing in the last ten days prior to the race. It was confusing, and required the most careful consideration out of anything I've done since starting to train seriously four years ago. I'm so glad I took it on, though. Let's just say that Bryan, my physical therapist, won't be craving a cannoli anytime soon. Half a dozen from Mike's Pastry hardly seems adequate for bringing me from spectator to full-fledged Boston running, but it was the best thing I could come up with.

That's all, folks. I'll do one more with some fun pictures and video that involve people a lot faster than my mid-packed behind, and tell the story of the burning question I asked the Barefoot Running Caveman in the finish area.

One Tired Mama and Two Wondergirls Do a 5K

Alexis had been working toward this for the past several months as part of her school's GOTR team. Until a few weeks ago, I knew I'd also be running, but assumed I'd either be pacing Alexis, or running for myself. Then, 5-year-old Kaia, who used to pitch awful fits during family walks a year or two back ("I'm tired! My legs hurt! My butt itches! Let's go home! I'm going to scream my head off, okay?") started begging to do it as well.

I thought, yeah, right, we'll do one practice walk/run session and she'll say never mind. Much to my surprise, she did one with me and said she was still really wanting to do it. So, I signed her up and became an official kiddo pacer. Her only serious question was "What happens if I'm last? Do I still get a medal?" I said yes, Kaia-EVERY finisher gets a medal. "Then I want to do a 5K!" She said excitedly.

So, last Saturday, we showed up at Long's Park here in Grand Junction at about 8 a.m. on a sunny but cold morning. We chatted and tried to keep warm. A few minutes prior to the start, everyone headed over to the starting area. I quickly wished Alexis good luck (this was her first race pacing herself without an adult), waited with Kaia, and then we were off!

Kaia and I had planned to walk three/run three, but she said she wanted to start off running...so mom followed along. I figured if she wanted to run more of it than those intervals I wasn't going to stop her. We hit the end first mile (which went all the way around the park) at about 14 min.

The second mile went around the back of the high school, and by now she definitely wanted to stick to those 3 min intervals, but really did run all out on those run minutes! We picked up one of A's classmates who was walking and jogging, and asked if she could join us, and the three of us more or less stuck together to the end.

As we finished the second mile and began the third, we saw Alexis come trotting up to us along the side of the course-she was finished and came to yell a little bit of support in her sis's direction.

The last mile was another loop around the park, and by now Kaia was definitely starting to tire out and wanting to mostly walk, but she'd get into some little bursts of running that still had quite a bit of pick-me-up.

We had been mostly walking from miles 2.5 to 2.8, but I could see the balloons at the finish, told her that was the end, and asked if she wanted to run to the end. She pretty much took off right then so I chased behind her.

In a hilarious, Forrest Gumpesque moment, she enters the final stretch of cheering crowd and suddenly turns off the course, running the wrong way down another path. EVERYONE including Kaia laughs at this as the course marshall and I are waving her back toward the finish, and we continue on our way. She crossed the finish at 43:39.5, 30 out of 50 in 8 and under girls, and youngest kiddo in the race (this surprised me, as there usually is a handful of 4, 5, and 6 year old younger sibs walking/running at these things). She was pretty thrilled with herself for finishing a 5K and asked if we could do another some time. I am still shaking my head in pleasant disbelief that this is the same child who used to throw those massive, embarrassing fits when we'd try to go for family walks back when I was pregnant with Ava-and really loved watching that look on her face as she ran ran to the finish.

As for Alexis, she had a goal of 27:00 going in to this. With a previous PR of 28:XX, my realistic side said she had a good chance of coming close, but probably wouldn't surpass that. She stuck with her coach (great coach and role model, both as a runner and person/teacher in general) most of the way, and more or less made her goal, finishing in 27:02.4. That was a good 1:45 off her PR, 1st in the 8 and under AG, and 30 out of 559 overall.

She was SO stoked and although I obviously wasn't running WITH her, it sounds like she kept a pretty consistent pace most of the way through. Her classmates all seemed to have a great time, too. One of them hung with Alexis for a good part of the race, and when I was talking to the girl and her mom after, they both said to keep them posted on any upcoming 5K's because she'd really loved doing the race, and wanted to do more. It was very cool to see the birth of a runner/love for running in another kid.


So, that was it for this round! Next weekend, we're dressing Daddy up for the Red Dress Run, a men-only (okay...they won't really shoot women who want to participate) event that comes the week after the girls/women only 5K. Prizes for best dress, best accessories, tightest dress, and-oh yeah-running in said dresses, accessories and shoes. You'd better believe I'm going to be there, camera in hand, to catch that action.