Run, Andrea, Run!

Pacing Meghan at Western States in June totally renewed my love for trail running.  I had already signed up for the Run Rabbit Run 50 miler and started thinking that I had enough time to try to get my speed up and use the race as a qualifier for States (I'd need to run it in under 11 hours).  While I have run more than 50 miles before (Waldo 100km in 2012), I struggled quite a bit in the latter part of the race.  Since I'd already been struggling on shorter races this year, I decided I needed some help in trying to figure out how to train effectively for the distance given the constraints my life puts on training.  So, a few days after States, I became one of Coach Meghan's first clients.

The training plan that Meghan put me on was great - I felt rested when I needed to, but also challenged - and approaching Run Rabbit Run, I really felt ready for the race.  Ross and I planned on heading out midday the Friday before the race, leisurely making our way up to Steamboat before the race meeting/check-in that evening.  Then it started raining.
and raining some more.
and some more.

Note the description of the rainfall level in the second line of the big paragraph.

The 100 (and more)-year flood started just a few days before Run Rabbit Run.  We were super lucky - no damage, but Colorado front-range was truly a disaster area. The morning before the race, I checked the road closure map and determined there was still a route to Steamboat open, and with a little bit of guilt (shouldn't I be doing something to help with the flooding vs. racing?), we finished getting ready to leave. Then I-70, the interstate into the mountains was closed by a landslide.  .... We decided to head up anyway, hoping that the route would open by by the time we got to the closure.  Our 3 hour drive turned into a 5 hour drive... but we managed to make it to Steamboat just as the pre-race meeting started.

Race morning was cool with some rain on the forcast.  The bunnies racing the 100 miler had some snow during the night.  With headlamps on, our pack of 50 milers started heading up the ski area.  Due to some construction, there was a small re-route that resulted in a short stretch going straight up a steep slope, followed by bushwacking across a field.  A bit more climbing on the service roads to the summit of ski area, then we hit the wonderful single track that we ran on for most of the race.  Several of the 100 mile front-runners passed us  as they were coming into the finish line - including Oregon running-friend Ardilla.

It seemed appropriate that I'd see a friend from Oregon up there since the trail reminded me so much of those in Oregon.  So much more runnable (i.e. less rocky; less technical) than the Colorado front range!  The trail wounds through pine forests, skirted around lakes, and along high mountain meadows.  While there were some good little climbs and descents, they were relatively short and there was some great cruise-time.  I felt pretty good in through here.  I was eating every 45 minutes - pieces of turkey and cream cheese roll ups, some crackers and nuts, drinking gu-brew in my pack and coke at the aid stations.

At about mile 20, we started the climb to the Rabbit Ears.  Since the course was an out-and-back, I was able to tell where I was relative to the other runners  To my surprise, I seemed to be near the front as I hadn't seen many people coming back towards me yet.  I started counting the number of women, and by the time I reached the top of the climb, discovered that I was in 10th place.

Wow!!!!!  and even better ... I hit the turn around in just under 5 1/2 hours and I still felt really good. I really wanted to finish under 11 hours so I could qualify for the Western States Lottery, and thought that it might still be doable since most of the ups were now out of the way.

Heading back down to the aid Dumont aid station, I was on a high.  I refilled my pack and headed out, expecting the miles back to the top of the Steamboat Ski area to go relatively easy.  I'd been using some positive self-talk previously when I was feeling bad ... "if this were easy, everyone would be out here", "run like Meghan, run like Gabby"  (two of the most positive people I know).  When I started slowing and feeling bad winding through the meadows and forests after mile 30, I tried to do the same.... but it just wasn't working.  I was starting to run out of gas.  I looked on enviously as people passed me at a pace that made me feel like I was standing still.  Losing my position in the top 10 caused me to lose even more steam.  Then there was the moment when I did the mental math and realized that I was definitely not going to meet my time goal.

Rabbit Ears Pass in the background.  Photo by Mark Geistweit.

I realized a bit too late that a big contributor to all of this was probably not getting enough calories.  A few aid stations hadn't had any food that looked appealling, and instead of figuring out something to eat, I went on without food (stupid, I know).  By the time I got to the last aid station, I was out of juice and knew I wouldn't meet my time goal.  The aid station volunteers said my lips were looking blue and were concerend about letting me go on; but after eating some food and drinking some coke, I felt a bit revived .

Unfortunately, running downhill hurt.  bad.  After about 100 meters, I saw Ross waiting for me at a bend in the road.  I stopped, got a hug, cried a little bit, then together we headed the rest of the way down.  Bushwacking across the slope gave my legs - and brain - enough  space that I was able to evaluate where I was --- why was I worried about the pain - I was almost done!?!  We hit the next downhill section, and I gave it everything I had.  Grunting seemed to make it easier, so I grunted.  I figured if the Queen could grunt getting into the finish at States, I could grunt here.  Finally off of the slope, we hit the last flat part before the finish, and I spotted one more woman whom I could pass - which I managed to do about 200 meters before the finish.  Up the stairs, a hug to Fred the RD (which is the official 'finish'), and I was done.

I finished in 11:33:25; 15th woman, and 78th runner over-all (out of 150).  I may not have hit my goal, but over-all I was really happy with how well I did.  I generally felt stronger on the climbs and felt like I had more endurance over-all.  For the most part, I was able to keep my attitude up; and no serious gut issues.

So next year - definitely back to RRR.  Even if the 50 is no longer a qualifier for States, I know I can hit my goal pace next year.

Rock on!

There are many ultra-marathoners who love to make disparaging comments about marathons - marathons are on pavement.  Marathons are short.  In general, I do prefer trail ultras, but there is something I love about road marathons - especially those in big cities.  ...and I have to admit, although there is a part of me that dislikes large, for-profit race organizations, the Denver Rock-n-Roll Marathon was a great race.

I've been trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon for years and several times have been off of my qualifying time by just a few minutes.  This became my second goal for my racing season and after a very short recovery period after Run Rabbit Run, I moved to the roads (which really was the only running option anyway since most of our trails were closed due to flood damage) and started doing a lot more speed work. I had some good runs - and some really bad runs, but by time I lined up in my assigned corral, I felt I was as ready as I could be.

Because of a combined start for the mini-, half-, and full marathons, there were over 12,000 people joining me at the start line.  Luckily the wave-starts worked really well, and there was none of the all-too-familiar slow shuffle at the start.

The course wound through Denver, starting downtown, gradually making it's way south, then heading back to the start.  The sinuous course made it relatively easy for spectators to get to multiple points on the course, which was a benefit for us runners - the crowd support was awesome!  There were very few points where there wasn't someone on the side of the road cheering us on.  There were some great signs, too: "I don't know you, but I'm proud of you", "Smile if you aren't wearing underwear", "You're running better than our government".  And so many cute kids, their hands out waiting for high fives.  Engaging with the crowd was energizing - more than once, interacting with them helped me get out of a brief funk - that energy made me feel light and feeling light meant running faster.  It was great.

My strategy for the race was to keep my pace below 8:28 minutes per mile, but especially for the first half, not push too much on the (many) mild uphills and let gravity help pull me down.  I ended up running the first half a bit faster than I'd intended - 8:07 average pace - but I'd felt under control and relaxed the whole time. Around miles 17-20, there was a lot of sneaky-uphill.  It didn't really look uphill, but was indeed steadily up. Coach Meghan had rightly warned me that I might feel a bit discouraged here.  My goal through this section was to go no slower than 8:45, but also keep my heart-rate in check.  Interacting with the crowd, thinking "run like Gabby, run like Meghan" (two of the most positive, in-love-with-running people I know), and when I needed to, telling myself that I was not going to let the Blerch hold me back (if you aren't familiar with the reference, you really need to check out this blog - I loved it so much I bought the shirt, which is the shirt I was wearing during the race), and reminding myself that if this was easy, everyone would be out here - of course it hurts and that's okay - helped me through this stage.

Mile 22 - four miles to go, and unless things really blew-up, I knew I was going to make my goal of finishing under 3:40.  I told myself to go for it - I managed to pick up my pace and started playing the "pick off other runners game".  Mile 22-23 (or was it 24-25?) seemed to go on forever, but I was also starting to feel really excited about being so close to finishing within my goal.  I ran up the short, steep hill around mile 24/25, then tried to find an even higher gear.  When a runner approached, I just ran faster - I was not going to let anyone pass me - not so close to the finish. Mile 26, then one more turn, and the finish line was in sight and I was sprinting...

...and then I was done.  26.2 (my Garmin actually says 26.4) in 3.37.59, average pace - 8:20 min/mile.  I found out the next day that this was good enough for 7th in my age/gender group (out of 312), 62nd out of 1,996 women, and 329th out of 4376 overall.

I was soo happy - and so trying to not cry because I was soo happy (medical people tend to get a bit concerned when they see runners crying at the finish line).  Everything went perfectly - I qualified for Boston and got a marathon PR.  Thanks so much to Coach Meghan to all the great advice and encouragement!
________________
Nutrition:
Before the race - 1 poppyseed bagel with peanut butter & honey, tea, and some Gu-Brew
Handheld bottle - 16 oz of Gu-Brew
Gatorade at 2 aid stations early in the race
Cliff shots or Rocktane Gel shots followed by a cup of water every 45 minutes

Gear:
Shoes:  Saucony Kinvara 4
Socks:  the thicker Injiji toe-socks - love these!
compression calf-sleeves
short-sleeve tech shirt - The Blerch!
light weight gloves
Waldo hat

No good pictures of me from the Marathon, but a week later, I ran - and placed 3rd in the Louisville Monster Dash 10km.  Not bad for still being very much in recovery from the marathon - and running in a pink fairy skirt!

Pacing the Queen

My first Western States adventure started several months ago when, during a run in the foothills of Colorado, I told Meghan that I was interested in crewing for her at the next WS.  I also mentioned that if she found herself needing a pacer and thought I would be a good pacer for her, that I'd be happy to do that, too.  Fast forward several months, and Meghan was picking me up from the Reno airport on the Thursday before Western States to crew and pace for her (you can read Meghan's race report here:  http://runningmegleg.com/2013/07/29/western-states-100-2013/)

We got a decent amount of sleep (though I still felt guilty that picking me up from the airport kept Meghan up late two nights before the race).  After lazily eating breakfast and checking email, I headed down to find Meghan at check-in, and found myself in some version of a runner's paradise.  Everyone who was in the village was either a runner or a supporter of runners.  While there was definitely some anticipatory anxiousness in the air, over-all, the mood was mostly seemed to be excitement.

Wandering around, I ran into several of my Oregon-running-friends.  Although I no longer live there, I still feel the pride of being from a state with such a strong running community, especially in the women's field.

From the top of Emigrant Pass

I had been struggling with how to manage my training prior to the race.  On one hand, I thought that I should treat it like a race and be sure to taper so I'd have fresh legs.  On the other, I knew that there would be much higher temperatures when I was running than I typically run in (I'm normally a morning runner) so I wanted to get in some heat training miles.  I decided to do a combined-
approach, getting in some longer miles in the heat early in the week, and backing off the mileage later.  I originally planned on just going for a short, flat run on Friday, but Meghan encouraged me to head up to the top of Emigrant Pass with Hannah (one of Meghan's friends from Eugene and her 'crew chief').  This climb was the first 4 miles of the course and from the top you can see west into the canyons that the course runs through.  I was so glad I followed her recommendation.  The views from the top were gorgeous and it was fun getting to know Hannah better.  The fairly steep run down from the top actually felt pretty good. I was happy with how well my quads were feeling and just hoped that they wouldn't be too sore the next day.

With Meghan a few minutes before the start.

At 4am Saturday morning, I woke up to, "It's 4 o'clock" and "my alarm didn't go off".  Crap!  Only 1 hour to race time!  The amazing thing was that despite this, Meghan was calm (or at least did a good job appearing calm).  Shortly before 5, Hannah, Larry (Hannah's boyfriend), Jason (who would take the second pacing leg), Blaine (Jason's wife), and I joined the crowd of people near the starting line. We hugged Meghan, got a few photos, wished her luck, then found our spots overlooking the starting line.

As soon as they were off, so were we.  Meghan had estimated her splits, and we had 3 hours to pack up the cars, drive down to Auburn, do our shopping for the day, then get to our first aid station assignments.  As Jason and I started heading down to Duncan Canyon after the stop at the store, we realized that we were cutting it much closer than we had intended to, and it was hard to drive any faster because of the narrow twisty road we were on.  Jason started making up Meghan's water bottles and packing the portable cooler on our approach to the parking area.  As soon as we got to the trailhead, Jason jumped out of the car and sprinted to the starting line.  I was able to find a parking spot within a few minutes, and followed him.  I saw the crews for Pam Smith and Aliza Lapierre coming down the trail as I was heading up - they said that Meghan hadn't come through yet, but would be soon.  I was lucky - I got there just as she came in.  Water bottles exchanged, Powergels handed over, and she was back down the trail. Feeling relieved that we didn't miss her, Jason and I went back to the car, then headed to our next stop, Dusty Corners.

We had a bit of a wait at Dusty Corners and were able to see the first 10 or so men come through the aid station.  Things were already heating up - it was over 80 degrees in the shade - so high on everyone's list was getting cooled off with water and ice.  Pam Smith came through first - a lead that she expanded on all day.  The rest of the top women were spread out over the next 10 minutes.  Meghan looked good coming through - we repeated the crew duties, then headed down to Forest Hill.

The race course goes down the Main Street in Forest Hill.  We found a shady spot on a side street just a few blocks from the aid station and occupied ourselves with eating, trying to stay off our legs, and checking the race updates on UltraLive.net and IRunFar twitter feeds.  After Meghan got through Michigan Bluff, Jason headed down to Bath Road to run with Meghan into Forest Hill and I positioned myself about 50 meters up the road from the aid station.  It was great to run into April (Trucha), Craig (Tibarron) and their new baby Linnea while I was waiting for Meghan to come through.

Then there she was and my pacer duties started.  After making sure she got what she needed in the aid station, we headed down the road to the Cal Street section of the trail.  It was awesome to hear so many people cheering for her.

Crossing the American River

Pacing Meghan was awesome.  The section that I got to run with her was beautiful - mostly rolling single track above the American River. Meghan took the time to hug some folks she knew and saw along the way.  It didn't seem to take long at all until we reach the American River.  The volunteers holding the cable across the river pointed out every rock and hole.  Taking Meghan's lead, I dunked myself all the way in - after the heat and dust of the day, the cold felt amazing.

Heading up to the Green Gate

At the other side, the rest of the crew met us and we went as a group to the Green Gate Aid Station, after which Jason left to pace Meghan to Auburn.  We all met up again in Auburn, a few miles from the finish.  It was amazing to run with Meghan onto the track. 

The next morning, we all sat and watched the last few hours of the race unfold.  It was so inspirational to see some of those last finishers - some coming in on their own, others surrounded by family.  Some who found the ability to truly run from the entrance to the track to the finish line; others who I wondered how they kept moving.  Watching it all unfold, I decided that I was going to try to qualify for the race next year.  I'd been struggling a bit with motivation the last few months and my WS weekend reminded me of why I fell in love with ultras - Dean Karnzes described it in Ultramarathon Man, when he wrote,“Struggling and suffering are the essence of a life worth living. If you're not pushing yourself beyond the comfort zone, if you're not demanding more from yourself - expanding and learning as you go - you're choosing a numb existence. You're denying yourself an extraordinary trip.” And if I don't qualify?  I hope to be back at WS next year anyway, because being supporting others in that pursuit is an awesome thing.

Golden Gate Dirty 30

I have a new standard for a tough 50km. 

In the first few months after moving to Boulder, as soon as I saw a relatively close ultra open, I signed up.  Trail running and racing had become such an important part of my life in Corvallis, it seemed logical to jump right in in my new state.  As with so many other things in life, there were several unexpected factors that meant that my training and racing in Colorado wouldn't meet my expectations.  Probably the biggest factor is that I've been working -and traveling for work- a lot more than I'd thought.  I've also been struggling with finding my running community in Boulder.  There certainly isn't a lack of runners, but I haven't yet found a group who's training schedule and routine really matches mine.  On top of that, for the past 9 months, I've been trying to get used to how different it is to run in Boulder compared to the Pacific Northwest.  I am neither a good downhill runner nor am  I particularly quick with my feet, so the long technical downhills in Colorado have been quite a challenge.

I'd heard of Golden Gate Dirty Thirty (actually a 50km, despite 'thirty' in the title) a few times before the entry opened.  The way people talked about it, it sounded a bit easier, something that people often did as their first ultra.  I signed up without looking at the elevation profile and then focused on training up for Quad Rock 50 miler, figuring that the training for Quad Rock would also be sufficient for Golden Gate.

The first monkey wrench in those plans was that I ended up doing only the 25 miler at Quad Rock, so instead of Golden Gate being a 'recovery' race, Quad Rock become a training race for Golden Gate.  The second was that the elevation gain for Golden Gate certainly was much more than what you would find for a typical 'entry level' 50km.  The course has over 8000 feet of climbing (and descending), between 7500 ft. and 9500 ft.  So I adjusted my expectations and figured that I would probably finish closer to 6 1/2 -7 hours, than the 6 hours and under that I had aimed for in my last several 50kms in Oregon.

 
So, come race day, I wasn't feeling like I was in my best condition, but I was also feeling relatively confident in my ability to finish the race with a decent result.  If nothing else, my suffer-fest during Waldo had introduced me to a level of perseverance and stubbornness in myself. 
 
As soon as we started running, I felt nauseous.  I knew we were starting fairly high, but I'd thought that living  mile high would have given me some prepared me fairly well.  Apparently not.  This was one of my biggest struggles of the day - not getting too negative about it and instead focusing on what I could actually eat that wouldn't turn my stomach.  Unfortunately, one of the things that made me feel worst was the EFS gel that I'd previously found surprisingly enjoyable.  Dealing with elevation-induced nausea is actually a lesson I was given during Siskiyou Out and Back a few years ago, where my legs felt great - I just felt like I was going to puke the whole time.  Instead of focusing on who sick I felt, I tried to focus instead on my breathing, how my legs, felt, the sensation of moving my body in space, and the wonderful scenery around me.  Despite how I felt, I ate on schedule (a good squirt of gel every 30 minutes and at least 100 calories of food plus some coke at aid stations).  If food make me sick, I'd evaluate if I was staying up with electrolytes.  If I was, then I'd tell myself that it wasn't actually *me* that was the issue - that it was just a normal part of being up high, and turn my attention elsewhere.  This mostly worked.
 
Despite the queasiness, the beginning of the race felt pretty good.  There was a bottleneck of runners getting through the first climb, but that helped to keep my pace in check.  The downhill wasn't too technical, and I was happy that I was able to open up a bit and gain some position in the pack.  The first significant climb was tough, but I was able to power hike up pretty well.  On the cruise down to the first aid station, I snuck through some trees for a potty-break, came back out, and about 100 meters down the trail realized my sunglasses had gotten pulled off my hat.  Doh!  I actually ran back to look for them briefly - to no avail.  Luckily we were in the trees most of the day and it was a bit overcast as well, so I didn't miss them too much during the race.

The trail was a mix of single track, double track, forest road, dirt gravel, non-technical, technical, scrambling up rocks - in other words, a bit of everything.  There were some gorgeous stretches of single track that wound through mountain meadows, where it felt more like flying than running.

I felt like I handled most of the climbs relatively well and was able to pick up some good speed on a lot of the downhills.  For most of the race, I thought that I'd easily be able to pull out a 7 hour finish.  Then I hit mile 22.  This downhill just plain hurt.  I tried to open up my stride and let gravity pull me down, but the surface was off-camber and uneven, and although it wasn't particularly difficult, I slowed down more than I sped up.  This was then followed by the climb up to Windy Peak.  I don't really have much to say about the climb other than it was long and slow.  I got passed way too many times both on the way up and the way down.  I think it took me almost 2 hours to do the last 6 miles. But, everytime I started to go to that bad place mentally, I'd remind myself of Waldo, of the last big climb up to Maiden Peak and the run into the finish that was way harder than it seemed like it should have been, and reminded myself that if I could do that, then I could certainly do this.

I ended up finishing in 8:05:43, 43 out of 71 women; 198 out of 255 finishers.  So - not horrid, but certainly not what I expect out of myself.  Run Rabbit Run 50 mile is coming up in September, and I know that I really need to focus more on (1) picking up speed on downhills, (2) the transition from uphill to downhill, and (3) training hard at elevation  (in addition to the usual increase endurance, increase foot turnover) -- especially if I'm going to try to get a qualifying time for Western States (more on that in my next post).

Quad Rock 25 mi

Last fall after I moved to Colorado, the Queen recommended that I sign up for Quad Rock, run by her friend Nick Clark.  I had the option of a 25mi (one loop) or 50mi (two loop) race and I decided to opt for the 50.  I had plenty of time to build up my mileage and I figured a 50mi in May would set me up well for the rest of the summer.

So much for optimism.  I just could not get my training volume up enough to feel like I was going to be able to run a 50 well.  Plus, my chronic hip/hamstring pain had been getting worse (or certainly not getting any better) and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to run that distance without potentially causing damage (I've since found a great physical therapist who has really helped).

This may partially be why I kept thinking referring to the race as 'only 25 miles'  (this year, due to a small reroute, it was actually 26 miles) - 25 seems short when you've been planning for 50.

The race started - and finished - at Lory State Park just outside of Fort Collins.  The morning was chilly, but warm enough to feel relatively comfortable starting in short sleeves (one of my trusty MacDonald Forest 50km shirt) and light gloves.  A fire had gone through the park and adjacent Horsetooth Reservoir just a few months ago, so we had a few-mile start on dirt road.  This helped to spread out the field a bit, but soon enough we were on our first climb.

I have to admit, I hadn't really looked at the course map prior to the race.  I figured with a name like 'Quad Rock' there would be some decent climbs - and there doesn't seem to be any route in the front range that doesn't involve a fair amount of elevation.  I also had it in my mind that this was 'only a 25 mile' race; I was vaguely aware that there was 5500' of elevation gain, but again, this didn't really phase me.  What I failed to really appreciate until about half-way through the race was that instead of coming in the form of multiple ups-and-downs, the elevation in Quad Rock came in 3 very discrete chunks. 





I happily surprised myself by passing a number of people on the ups.  I've been trying to work on my climbing, and although I know I still wouldn't be able to keep up with Tejona and Lobo back in Corvallis, I think I've gotten better.  Unfortunately, I am really bad at running down hill.  Especially steep, somewhat technical down hills like on this course .... and pretty much everywhere in the Front Range.  This is partially a technical issue (there is some 'form' to downhill running that I still don't have), partially a confidence issue (my knees bear the evidence for why I tend to put the breaks on a bit too much), and partially a pain issue (although my hip and foot issues have gotten somewhat better, they still act up the most running down hill).

So ... pass people going up, get passed going down.  Repeat, then repeat again.  A little frustrating.

But ... the course was really pretty.  Mostly single track winding through forests and meadows.  The water was flowing strong in the creeks, but despite all of the snow we'd had in the weeks leading up to the race, for the most part, the trail was pretty dry.  The aid stations were well stocked and staffed with great volunteers.  I think I did a fairly good job with nutrition, but could have probably drank more - I still had water left in my pack at the end of the race.  One of the aid stations actually had cooked up some bacon for us (rule I most frequently break on races:  don't eat anything during a race you haven't eaten during a training run) -- and I have to admit, it was one of the most excellent things I have ever eaten during a race.  (I believe in the past I've said that about pbj, push-pops, ....)

I managed to pull out a good kick at the end - enough that I felt like I had too much left, which reinforced my belief that I need to get better at running down hill.  I didn't make my time goal of 5 hours max, but had a decent finish - 5:37:52, 25th woman out of 67, 86th out of 167 overall. 

Looking for mindfulness

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the meaning of life.  That probably sounds deeper than it really is, but still….

Waiting for a late bus the other day, I felt myself getting pissed off about the wasted minutes – I could have had a few more minutes climbing with my friend!  I’m going to be late meeting my friends at the restaurant!  Then, for some reason, I was able to catch myself.  Why was I so angry?  Couldn’t I just embrace the moment?  Take advantage of the opportunity to take a deep breath, look around, experience the world around me?

Within the last year, my running community lost two wonderful people.  To be honest, it almost doesn’t feel right writing about them as I didn’t know either of them well.  I ran with Dave a few times after he’d already gotten sick; but even though he wasn’t well, I could see a special spark in his eyes.  What I knew about Dave was that he was a wonderful, dedicated father and husband, hardworking coworker.  He was a great ultramarathoner, and when he wasn’t running he was helping other runners.  On top of that, he found time to volunteer in the community.  Joha passed away just yesterday.  I only knew Joha from my friends, but reading her story and knowing her impact on my friends has left a large impact on me.  Joha was first diagnosed with brain cancer in college.  Despite – no, in spite – of this, she finished college and became a college cross country star.  Her cancer came back again, she continued to fight, to work, to run, to coach.  She was only in her early 30s, yet had already lived such a full life.

I wish I had known Joha and Dave better – but from what I do know of them, and even more, what I know of their impact on those who knew them well, I know that they were both truly extraordinary people – and it seems that they were people who may have been a little closer to being able to appreciate all the moments of life.

Carpe’ diem seems like a cliché in this jaded world.  How am I supposed to seize the day when there is never enough time in the day to make it through my checklist or when I come home exhausted every night?  How am I supposed to embrace even the quiet moments when deadlines loom and my email is backed up in my inbox?  That’s part of why I run.  Especially when I’m on trails, I’m better able to get out of my head.  There are consequences to thinking while running trails – I have the scars to show for it.  But even knowing this, I can struggle – even today while running at lunch; a beautiful sunny day, warmer than it has been in weeks, I found myself obsessing about what I wanted to say in this blog post.  It took conscious effort to pull my attention away and just experience what was around me. 

Somehow I need to move closer to balance – to fulfilling my obligations, but also being present and mindful while doing them; appreciating the quiet spaces, the opportunities to just stop, look around, and see the world around me.  It’s not like these concepts are new to me – books by Buddhist philosophers sit on my shelves and I’ve spent many hours sitting in meditation trying to quiet my busy mind.  I could argue that the pressures of western society make it hard, but I don’t think that’s a sufficient excuse.  There are still choices to be made.  Even if there are obligations at work, I can choose my orientation to them.  I can not get pissed about a late bus.  I can not feel guilty about just sitting still and experiencing the world around me.  At least I can try.

South Boulder Peak - or not

Remnants of a historic homestead at the South Mesa Trailhead

I figured that since I now live in Boulder, I should take advantage of the great trail accessibility and get out for a hike today.  Unfortunately, I wasn't feeling too motivated - I did a long'ish run yesterday and my legs weren't feeling too spry, and I didn't feel like spending a lot of time in the car to drive to a trailhead (though a 'long time' to get into the higher peaks is only about 45 minutes).

Ross suggested I hike up to South Boulder Peak - I'd be able to see the Continental Divide to the west and plains to the east.  My friend, Clara, who lives just outside of Boulder suggested the next peak over (Bear Peak), which you get to using many of the same trails and when I mentioned Ross's suggestion, she said that although she hadn't been up there, it should be nice and an hour or so shorter.  Shorter sounded good, so I grabbed my scribbled directions (found online) and headed out.

View to the east following the Homestead Trail towards South Boulder Peak.

The online directions had warned that the trailheads often fill up early, and I was definitely getting a later start.  However, President Obama was speaking in town, and I was hoping that the draw to see him would decrease the number of folks out recreating.  The trailhead ended up being busy, but I found a spot to part and started hiking. 

It was warm today (high 80s), but this was cooler than last week and there was a decent wind helping to keep things cool.  Hiking here is definitely different than in Oregon - drier, more open, and very different kinds of plants.  My brain was really wanting to put names to the trees, grasses, and forbs I was seeing - most of which I'm not at all familiar with.  I'm going to have to add a Colorado plant guide to my list of books to buy in the near future.

There were a few interesting warning signs as I headed to the peak.  First, the warning of recent bear activity.  I wasn't too worried since there were a lot of other people out - but I did see a lot of bear scat on the trails.  The second was of a bee swarm up the narrow trail I had just turned onto.  Luckily the bees and hornets were concentrated over a stream and didn't seem too bothered when I quickly hiked through.

The trails where well marked and the hiking was relatively easy if not steep in parts.  I was about 3/4 of the way to the peak when I ran into two other hikers who informed me that a bit up the trail, it was fenced off due to the Flagstaff Fire that came through the area this summer.  What?!?!  Shouldn't this be posted at the trailhead?  Turns out there as a sign that I missed at the previous intersection (where I could have detoured over to Bear Peak), but I never did see a sign at the trailhead.

The sign that I missed indicating that the trail to South Boulder Peak was closed.

End of the trail - for now.

I considered walking around the fence, but particularly since I was alone decided not to.  I ate lunch in a shady spot near the closure, then headed back down the trail.  After going about 1/4 of the way down, I could have taken another trail over to connect with the Bear Peak trail, but decided to postpone that hike for another day.

So, less adventurous than I'd initially planned, but it was nice to get out and see a bit more of my new surroundings.

If you look closely, you can see the that the trees at the top of the ridge were burned in the Flagstaff fire.