What the he**!

My cheeks hurt.  Nothing like being surrounded by good friends and good food.  And lots of laughter.  But I'm tired now.  I think it must have been the scrumptious pumpkin parfait (chocolate, pumpkin, ginger, gingersnaps) all beautifully composed.  Or maybe it was the 5 am wake up (the alarm was set for 5:30, really) followed by the run and the stunning sunrise. Today's sunrise was exceptional.  And the best part, a few of my non-running friends saw it too!

I know that my energy has shifted.  Last year I ran a marathon on my birthday.  It was a good way to de-emphasize the day, though I did get to spend it with my folks and some friends.  But the marathon was the point more than the birthday.  But this year, I let the birthday be.  It wasn't a big deal, but I did what I wanted to (okay, maybe with the exception of reading files).  I ran with my dog (who is nursing a sore knee because she's a dog and doesn't always think about what she does - she lives by the motto "What the hell?" whereas I rarely live by it).  Maybe this next year I'll try and live my life they way Sydney does.  It can't hurt, and who knows what it might bring. 

My niece and nephew each sang me their Happy Birthday song - oh if they would only call back and leave those songs on my voicemail.  Nothing can make you smile like a 3 year old and a 5 year old singing Happy Birthday (or anything for that matter)!  None of the adults in my family sang (parents, brother, aunt - they all declined to put me through that :).  Maybe their wishes came without a tune, but I felt them and heard them loudly and gratefully.

And the day ended with good friends and good food and lots of laughter.  I'm going to ride this wave and hope it's a big one and a long one because I like where it's taking me at the moment.

Winter Wonderland

There is nothing I love more than running in the snow.  Okay, I would have loved today's run even more had Sydney and Jane been with me, but it doesn't get any closer to heaven.  Remind me of this day on those days when I think about leaving Colorado. 

It hasn't snowed or rained for the entire month of November.  We've had some cold snaps, a day or two, but it has been unseasonably warm.  I've appreciated those warm days but it didn't feel like Thanksgiving.  But with the dawn of Thanksgiving day came real cold.  It was a grey day - not my favorite, but it finally felt like Thanksgiving, like November, so I didn't care that it was grey.  

I started the day on the Manitou Incline - what better way to justify the Thanksgiving tradition. The incline itself was really hard for me, but I slogged on without stopping until I got to the top.  It was great to see so many people from my running group hanging around (how they didn't freeze waiting around for the slow folks like me I'll never understand).  I flew down Barr Trail - hadn't been up there since the Marathon and then I wasn't flying at all.  Instead, I was in a state of disbelief that I was so close to finishing 26.2 up and down Pikes Peak and I was fighting my cramping legs.  It was so good to be back on the mountain.  When I got home, I spent some time cooking and watching the Macy's Parade in preparation for the glory of spending the afternoon with good friends.  Kat and Zach and I made a good dent in that 12-14 pound turkey and we indulged in both apple and pumpkin pie.  So grateful for good friends and my family - though this year we were all in different places.

I drove home under the first of several snows this weekend.  Thanksgiving night didn't bring much snow, but it was a wonderful end to a wonderful day.  Friday night brought more flurries and so did Saturday night.  

Saturday nights' flurries actually accumulated more than a 1/4".  I awoke on Sunday to a couple of inches, with snow still falling.  I smiled to myself and though I didn't need to be up for another 45 minutes, I couldn't sleep.  I embarked on a new adventure today:  running with the Incline club.  I've avoided this group for fear that they were all hard-core athletes, much faster and infinitely stronger than me.  But I wanted to find a new trail and I wanted to try something new.  Turns out I know quite a few of the runners from my other running groups.  And some good girlfriends were there too.  We represented the range of talent, speed and ability and I was not the slowest.  No one cared how fast or how far I ran; they were just glad to be out and happy to see familiar faces.  

So it was a magical morning - heavenly really.  Wooded trail, several inches of fresh snow, the first spill of the season (and I'm now the proud owner of a pair of Yaxtrax, as a result).  As I ran along, early on with friends and then as we all fell into our own paces, mostly on my own, I marveled at where I was.  

Peaceful.  Stunningly beautiful.  Everything coated in snow - like icing on the trees.  The sun made a few appearances and then everything sparkled.  So clean and so fresh and so magical.

I wanted a camera to capture the glory of this run.  Instead I just kept reminding myself of how I didn't want to be any other place than this.  I thought about Syd, home resting her sore knee (and not really welcome on a run with so many people).  I will take her back to run and play in the snow.  This beautiful run will only become even more incredible with her by my side. 

Today, I feel strong.  Today my energy was good.  Today, I couldn't stop smiling as I ran - even as hard as it was.  Today I could see the possibility.  

A whirlwind Fall

I've been absent from these pages for a while.  But trying hard to be present in my life even amidst the long days and travel.

I promised myself time off running, or at least running with a purpose.  So I haven't done much running of note.  In September I did join a team of friends, old and new, for the Colorado Relay - some 170 miles beginning in Georgetown, Colorado and ending in Carbondale.  Each of us had 3 legs to run - varying lengths and varying difficulty - all on little to no sleep.  Talk about hilarity and smelly! I think I will be known from now on as she who summons snow for running races - as our first van started in the twilight of a Friday morning and were almost immediately snowed upon.  I had a beautiful run mid-day - brisk, but not snowy.  It was mostly single-track trail (after the ugly uphill on the jeep road) and I loved nearly every minute of it (photo)!  My middle of the night run was less fun, but we all had one.  And my last run was a short one, just after sunrise as we headed up into the Roaring Fork Valley.  Good fun, good friends, and a fun visit with Stefan who provided SAG for our team. 

After that there was little time for anything but work.  A week in the DC area did bring a visit with the Raab family - always a fun time.  The highlight this time was running with Katie-bug. We found a local 2k (I think that was the distance) and Stefan and I alternated between running with her and snapping photos.  She ran the WHOLE thing - and she had a great time. The first photo is pre-race and the second, all smiles post-race!

Besides DC, my travels took me to San Francisco and a day off to spend with mom and dad, and finally to Hawaii (sunset in Kona).  The latter trip, I think I really earned this year because I also spent nearly two weeks on a jury - the only two weeks I had at home and in the office. Needless to say I am finally surfacing from the fall.

And running again.  With a little purpose, but mostly just loving the feeling of pushing myself again (and nearly everything is a struggle given my much diminished fitness).  I ran 10 miles last weekend - up Gold Camp road - well, okay only half was up.  It was hard.  I hadn't planned on 10 miles, but I had good company the the need to motivate and be motivated.  Then it was up Cheyenne Canyon on a COLD morning, with snow, or maybe it was sleet spitting from the sky.  Syd and I nearly took out our friend - who offered her arm to stop the momentum, as we slipped and slid down the road.  But it was beautiful.  And it was hard.  And it was why I love running.  And I finally got to run with my Friday group again.  And then I got smart and only went to yoga on Saturday - I needed grounding and some good stretching.  Today's run was smart - just under 8 miles, but again with good company on a stunning day that hardly makes it seem like Thanksgiving is this week.

I'm glad to be home and finding time with Syd and friends and my running shoes again.

It's a Beautiful Day

It's been my pre-race song since I ran the Grandma's race that got me to Boston.  I've listened to the song over and over and over - on long runs and of course, pre-race.  But it wasn't until I was listening today in the car - that's the best place to really hear the lyrics to a song - that I actually heard "what you don't have you, you don't need it now....it was a beautiful day..."

I'm on a new path right now.  I've got time, more time than I've had in a long time.  That's because I'm giving my body a break from the constant training and therefore I have time. Which has felt like emptiness.   But I got new perspective today.  The Chinese call it yin - it's the void - a place that seems scary to most of us.  But instead of being scary why not go into it & look at it as a place of possibility? 

Think of all the ways I can spend my new found time.  It's time to step outside my box and rediscover some of the other things I love to do and possibly, find new ways to spend my time. It's also time to be grateful for the fact that I'm smart enough to take a break, rather than being forced to take a break because of injury.  And I can look forward to what it will feel like when I do pick the next goal and I start training again - there will be new and refreshed energy and excitement and even more possibility...

And then I played my song in the car.  

So what does U2 have to do with all this, it's part of seeing that void as a place of possibility and recognizing that if today is a beautiful day then everything is as it should be.  Regardless of what I think I want in my life or what I should have or what I should be doing or what I have done.

A little less running

I know it's time for a break.  I've made a promise to myself that I won't sign up for any race longer than 13.1 miles until January 1.  I know in my heart that this is what I need to do.  I know that my muscles, my body, need time away from the constant distance.  

But there is a part of me that is terrified of all the time that I will have.  Without a big running goal, will I stay motivated?  Will I have a purpose?  Right now I'm feel purposeless and I can't say I like it.  My running has defined so much of what I do and so much of who I am these last couple of years, that I already feel a vacancy.  I won't stop running.  3-4 times a week is still in my cards, but what will I be running for, other than just to run?  And is that enough of a reason to run?

The Spirit in the Mountain

Euphoria.  Exhaustion.  Exhilaration.  Awe.  

I watched and worried as my friends tried to summit Pikes Peak on Saturday.  It had been raining for nearly twenty-four hours at race start and throughout the day the rain came in great squalls.  We didn't see the summit of Pikes Peak for two days.  For most on Saturday, the mountain won.  The few who did make it were cold from rain all the way up to tree line followed by snow and freezing temperatures.  For those that didn't summit, they ran many more miles than the anticipated.  It was a tough day on the mountain.

But that's part of mountain running.  Sometimes - or maybe all the time - the mountain has the upper hand.  Saturday's experience made me rethink and re-evaluate my plans for Sunday.  I knew I couldn't count on Dad and Jane getting to the summit and I mentally prepared myself for the mountain taking control and turning me back too.

I woke up about 1 am early Sunday morning to hear the rain beating down.  My heart sank. Maybe we wouldn't even start, or maybe it was going to be a garbage bag day for me too.  I went back to sleep and finally got up at 4:50 am.  It wasn't raining - a good sign but it was still too dark to know how low the clouds were or what the weather was really like.  Did it really matter?  What it was like at 5 am or the start was certainly not what it would be like as the day went on.  I needed to be mentally prepared for whatever the mountain would hand me.

Driving to Manitou we SAW Pikes Peak with a snow covered summit.  But at least we were seeing the mountain face.  A huge relief.  Just to the South a full moon was setting behind Cheyenne Mountain.  It was going to be a good day, somehow I felt that as we drove West.  And yet I reminded myself that I ought to pay attention to the details and be thankful for the small things because this day would be completed one step at a time and only if the spirits in the mountain wanted me to finish the roundtrip.

So I noticed:

• the beauty of the Peak with a snow capped summit
  
• the full moon setting
• my dad hanging around the start line until the race started
• U2's "Beautiful Day" playing over the loudspeaker - that's my pre race song!
• the guy at the Cog playing "Chariots of Fire" assuredly telling us he'd be there with the same music on the way back down.  And, he said, we'd be nearly done then (it was hard to imagine).
• all the aid station volunteers and the search and rescue volunteers - they really were awesome!
• Barr Camp volunteers encouraging us on - I was 1/4 of the way and entering about 3 miles of trail that I hadn't run in my summer of training.
• snowflakes above Barr Camp
• Blue sky and snow at the same time
• the beauty of the snow on the summit before the clouds sunk down and made it ominous
• yielding to downhill runners periodically and then more and more and more as I slogged, slowly and carefully to the summit
• Volunteers at the Cirque doing the WAVE for each runner that came up.
• Summit volunteers tearing off my tag, marking my bib  and asking "Do you have a better hat, girl?  Put it on NOW!"  I obediently pulled up my hood and was grateful for the order :-)
• I never saw the Summit House.  Or Dad and Jane.  Though I think I knew I wouldn't see Dad and Jane, I imagined my dad hollering like he did when I was a kid in the pool, "Go Jessie Go."  I knew he was in town waiting, wondering and probably worrying.
• A mittened hand - I swear it looked like a boxing glove - held out to help me down a particularly BIG step as I headed back down the 16 slippery, Golden Stairs.  I never saw your face, friend, but I am grateful for the hand proffered to keep me from slipping.

And then I was headed down.  I'd made the turnaround.  I'd felt good above treeline.  I'm pretty sure I could have done a 4 hour ascent had the weather cooperated.  Somewhere between 1 1/2 and 2 miles the trail was only wet and I was able to run again.  I felt free and good.  And then I worried about the calories I hadn't taken in at the summit.  I took in what I could with gloved hands while still moving and vowed to make sure to get a good volume of calories at A-Frame. They had my Mike and Ike's - soggy and stuck together - but still great, quick energy. And Gatorade.  And Grapes - I took a handful and head on down the trail.  I knew I was running strong and smart - stepping on the trail, not on rocks or roots that were slippery and trying to remember to keep my body leaning forward not back.

Before I knew it, I was at Barr Camp - only a 1/4 of the race left!  I shed my long sleeves - though I put the rain jacket back on - filled my water bottle and filled up with gatorade and grapes.  It was somewhere after Barr that my legs started to cramp - alternately the right quad, then the left, then the right.  I thought of Paula Radcliffe the night before running the Olympic Marathon in obvious pain and knew I could continue on.  I shortened my stride and slowed up when I needed.  Even walking the uphill stretches that are few, but there, below Barr.

Somewhere between 4 & 5 miles to the finish a runner pulled up behind me. "Think we'll finish under 6?" he asked.  I looked at my watch.  It said I'd been running 6 hours and 5 minutes.  "Under 7, you mean?" I asked with a smile.  "Yes he said."  We ran together a few minutes and then he pulled away.  I knew he'd finish under 7; I wasn't certain about myself but ultimately I didn't care because I knew I was going to finish.

4 miles to go at 6:14.  Then 3 miles to go.  Then 2 miles to go.  Then I could see the cutoff and then I heard music.  Was I hallucinating?  The guy from the Cog had moved his boom box and speakers up to the trail and he was, as promised, playing "Chariots of Fire."  I nearly started to cry for the first time.  Keep it together, Jessica, I told myself.  You're almost there.  Next thing I hit the pavement, near tears again.  Then it was the Ruxton/Hydro intersection.  

And then there was Karen on the right side of the road.  A few tears squeaked out.  I raised my arms in triumph and kept going.  Then I heard Rich and Gordon, "Is that Jessica?  Go Jessica, Go."  And then there was Jane on my left.  An angel, like my friends in Boston.  I tossed my bottle to her.  She gathered it and ran along beside me, sign in hand that read "Go Jess."  The crowds that lined Ruxton chanted "Go Jess" as I ran by.  Then I saw Dad on the last corner before the finish.  I couldn't help but grin and raise my arms in triumph.  Then my name was over the loud speaker and then I was done.  26.2 miles up 7200 feet and back down again.  6:51:04!

I had so much fun.   Who knew that you could run up a mountain and love it?!  There were moments when I had to look at my race number to remember I was in a race because I hadn't see anyone in 2 or 3 minutes.  And then I'd come upon a fellow runner, encouraging them on as I passed the same way others did me as they passed.  We were racing, but it didn't often feel like we were racing each other but instead our own goals and most certainly the spirit within the mountain.  

A community of runners

Filled up the car today with friends - both new and not so new.  Drove to the summit (and saw the herd of goats again).  Ran into an awful lot of familiar faces and knew many of the runners at the summit.  This is where I belong.  We runners did our workouts - some of us our last summit workout before the race, others of us just because we wanted the challenge and our friends were there.  All of us sharing energy, smiles, laughter and encouragement. 

And once those workouts were done some went back down the trail with shovels and picks to clean up the trail for next weekend's races.  Other's of us stuck labels on race numbers.  Almost every table in the Summit House was filled with runners with green and yellow bibs and sheets of labels.  We laughed and we shared stories and coffee and we built red blood cells, too.  

It was a foggy morning but I finally remembered my camera.  Couldn't have been a better day to remember.  Nothing like spending the morning among friends and fellow runners.  I belong here, I know that!

Pikes Peak or Bust

Tomorrow I will drive to the Summit of Pikes Peak for the 7th or 8th, or maybe 9th time this summer.  It'll be the last time I get there without my own two feet, heart and lungs doing all the work.  Last trip up, Megan and I saw a herd of mountain goats - 23 or so of them and at least half a dozen little goats, I guess they'd be called kids. 

I think I know the trail up there well enough.  I hope I know it well enough.  Will all those miles up top make a difference when I turn around and head down powered by a fatigued body and momentum?  Everyone says those first 6 miles on the way back down are pretty awesome - heart rate goes down, you get more and more oxygen as you descend - those are the words that convinced me to try this crazy race.  

I've been thinking about the race in four segments so I don't psyche myself out.  Talked to someone today who has finished it 8 times - that's what he does - think about it as four races.

1.  7 miles up to Barr Camp

2.  6 miles to the Summit

3.  6 miles back to Barr Camp

4.  7 miles to the finish

I can do those segments.  And I'll have Jane and Dad at the top with encouragement and food. And then it's all downhill.  Besides, I've done the uphill before!  And that was before I was running marathons.  So really, there's nothing to be worried about.

So the miles on top were good, hopefully my red blood cell count has gone WAY up.  I have to think the tempo and interval runs at the bottom of the trail have helped too.  In fact, I'm sure they've helped take away that lead-like feeling I've had in my legs the last month or so.  

So all I have to do know is put it all together, keep a cool head and just enjoy.  Afterall, it's all on the trail that's in my backyard!  What better place to be for 7 hours - give or take!?

Oh, and it's my first marathon in the state of CO.  Go big or go home, I guess!  

Rave Run

I'm not a big fan of gray - definitely a girl that craves bright, sunny days - that's why I live in Colorado!  But there is something about running in the fog that creates the perfect run.  And fog is different than gray - usually it burns off given a little time - especially here in Colorado.   And it makes for some of the best runs - runs that of course I would love to do over and over again.  The trail is still there so I can do them over and over again.  But they don't ever feel the same in the sunshine.  Snow is kind of like fog, that way.  It changes the way I see the world - softens it I think.

I ran in the fog yesterday in Crested Butte. CB has to be one of the prettiest places in Colorado.  Small mountain town nestled among high peaks.  And it's the pinnacle of beauty in the summer because the green hills are littered with color - red Indian Paintbrush, deep purple Larkspur and Lupine, violet Columbine, yellow black-eyed Susans and any number of other sunflower like plants, and the white daisys.  

The trail is on the west side of town (I think, though I am directionally challenged in the mountains where the mountains surround me, rather than marking the way West) and it follows a river.  It's called the lower loop - nothing fancy.  We hardly saw a soul yesterday - it was early, 7 am start, and the clouds hung low after a rain that saturated the landscape the previous night.  The trail was muddy, but not slippery and it was a soft trail.  Not too many rocks, or other obstacles to watch for and just that soft, bouncy kid of trail.  It reminded me of a forest trail - soft, spongy and gently rolling - but most of it wasn't in the forest.   I felt so light on my feet, like I could run forever, literally.  This is what running is meant to be.  

If I didn't live 4 hours from here I'd be on this trail daily - but maybe once a year will make me appreciate it that much more.  

So easy to find heavenly spots in this glorious state.  8 miles hardly seems long when the trail is soft and the scenery stunning.  Could have run and run and run....

It's the journey, not the destination

We didn't make it to Silver King Lake.  We didn't need to, though.  Just the two of us for two days - a girl, her dog and a backpack (with more food than we needed for the three days we intended to be gone :-)).  Someday I'll learn to pack just enough food.  Neither of us ever eats as much as I think we will, but I never want us to be hungry!  

We hiked through such a range of terrain - all of it stunning.  Lodgepole pine forests dominated the lower landscape.  Aspen filled in the gaps and there were plenty of willows and a smattering of early wildflowers.  We traveled along Pine Creek as far as we could - over two days - until snow stopped us short of our destination.  Bust as we sat in the meadow surrounded by Mt. Harvard and Emerald Peak (among several others in the Missouri Basin) it didn't matter that we hadn't made it to the lake.  We sat amongst willows, an overflowing creek with snow still bridging it in places and at the foot of quickly softening snow fields.  It couldn't have been more glorious or more peaceful.  

After hiking past Little John's Cabin and not quite to Bedrock Falls (an awesome granite expanse over which Pine Creek cascades) we found the perfect campsite (previously camped at by others) in a meadow surrounded by pine and aspen, with just a short jaunt down to the creek for water.  We'd easily hiked 7 miles to our campsite, maybe a tad bit more since Bedrock was at 8.1 and we were there pretty shortly after starting out on Tuesday.  

Tuesday morning came after something of a restless night.  We both slept well but in short spurts, waking up several times, checking out the stars (there are an amazing number out in the wilderness, by the way) and finally just got up about 6.  In many ways, a normal morning for us.  After a bite to eat we headed up the trail(without the big pack, phew) in search of Silver King Lake.  The trail was waterlogged much of the way - we'd soon discover this was the result of snow melting higher up.  Sydney was alert and eager and spotted a young buck of a deer - with a beautiful growing rack - and then she spotted a couple of marmots.  She missed the bunny, but she caught it's scent as we crossed it's path heading up the trail.  Pine Creek almost stopped our journey as the crossing was wide and precarious with ice still on the logs intended to be a bridge (though they weren't even close to stable).  Finally after looking for alternative spots to cross I took off my shoes and Sydney and I forged across the FREEZING cold creek - snow melt after all!  I was elated to have come to a good solution and to have made it across without losing anything and without slipping.  

And boy was it worth it.  

We spent much time awestruck by the majesty of the peaks surrounding us, by the amount of snow still in the basin and by the shear volume of water rushing down the creek.  Oh, and the fact that we were there alone.  Just Sydney and I.  Content and gratified to have made it this far - up the valley - on the journey the universe has planned for us.  Certainly not the stones I would have forseen laying on my own path just a week ago, but stones I was glad to have walked upon.

A happy dog would have been happier had she been free to run, but her momma was worried about rapids in the creek carrying her away.  She was fascinated by the current and the ripples in the water - snapping and biting them anytime she got to carry her little paws into the water (always on her leash).  She was always ready to go - somehow she didn't appreciate sitting still the way I did.  She tolerated my awestruck need to take almost 200 photos and she happily pranced along ahead of me up and down the trail.  She's a faithful companion and I cannot imagine having taken this journey without her.  We are stronger because of this adventure.  Our hearts have grown a bit bigger and more appreciative of the path we are following.

Stretching

Sydney and I are headed out tomorrow for a two-night, three-day solo backpack.  This is new territory for me.  I have to say I'm pretty excited.  At first it seemed a bit scary and overwhelming - but as I broke down those fears I realized there really wasn't anything to fear but myself.  And that's just silly.  I can only imagine the beauty that will surround us as we travel up the Pine Creek Trailhead just north of Buena Vista, heading into the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness.  Our goal is two nights in the wilderness and a day hike in between that will take us to Silver King Lake nestled amidst a good handful of Colorado's highest peaks.  

It'll be peaceful and stunning and I'm sure it will stretch my heart and my soul in ways that I cannot begin to fathom.

Running in the rain

It rained most of the night - at least I think it did.  I remember thinking about where I was going to run in the middle of the night and woke up knowing that I was headed to the Garden instead of muddy Palmer Park.  It was a good choice - not only because Syd and I weren't muddy when we were done, but because the Garden was a magical place this morning.  

The stunning rock formations were sometimes visible and sometimes not.  At times they appeared as if they were hidden behind a gauze curtain.  I never did see the kissing camels.  As the sun rose, the fog seemed to hunker down.  So many times along the run I wanted to capture the images on the camera I didn't have with me.  I thought I'd take a photo with my phone when I was done.  Not so.  The fog sunk low and the rocks were nearly hidden.  They were moments meant only for Syd and I to experience, to try and capture in our eternal memory rather than on film.

The Garden is one of my favorite places, in part, I think because I will always remember the first few times I ran there.  The Garden had the upper hand.  It was rare that I could climb any of the hills at a pace faster than a walk.  It humbled me every time I went.  And yet I kept going back.  Who feels pain surrounded by that kind of physical beauty?  

I don't remember the first time I was able to run all the hills in the Garden.  But now it's a different kind of challenge.  I push myself to my physical limits often when I am in the Garden.  I run every hill.  The Garden is the place I learned to attack hills and to run past the crest of the hill - no matter how badly I want to stop once I reach the crest.  

And it is the place that I ran a 10 mile race recently and didn't push myself.  I just ran.  All the hills.  I finished in a respectable time, but I didn't really worry about my time.  I just had fun.  Nothing at stake.  Nothing to prove to anyone, not even myself.  Just a 10 mile run in the Garden, under overcast skies, with the sun peeking out occasionally and the high school aid station welcoming me to heaven - twice.  They couldn't have chosen a more perfect theme.  They couldn't have been more right about the place we were.  

Running Again!

Just about three weeks post marathon and I'm running again.  I've done a few 30 minute jogs in the last week and they've been fine but rather uninspired.

A friend suggested the Manitou Incline for this morning.  We're both training to run Pikes Peak at the end of the summer so time on the mountain is always good.

I am flying after the hike/run today.  It wasn't a fast trip up the Incline, but it was SO good to be back out there.  And it certainly wasn't a fast trip down Barr Trail - still trying to be careful with the quads.  But boy did it feel good to be on trail.  To be without the Garmin and to have only a watch and a small bottle of water.  The air was fresh and clean after a hard rain last night and there was even a little fresh snow here and there when we got to the top of the Incline.  It was a brisk morning and the clouds hung low as we ran down Barr Trail.  Makes me feel good to be alive - running on Pikes Peak.

And tonight, the Herizons group at CRC had a New Balance event.  I came away with a pair of magic socks, but even better, I came away with a prototype of my favorite NB training shoe.  Thanks to my friends at CRC I am wear testing the NB 1063 which doesn't come out until January.  I love my 1061's and the NB rep described the 1062's (the newest version of the shoe) as pillows - he's right and that's why I LOVE them.  

So the 1063 seems a bit lighter and is much narrower through the toe.  It's definitely not as bulky in the heel as my 1061's and it is SO much more flexible at the toe box bend than my 1061's - which I love.  Foot slipped in and fit like a glove - just right - not to tight, not too much room.  And I only jogged about 1/2 a block in them tonight.  Can't wait to hit the trail tomorrow with my magic socks/inserts and my brand new New Balance 1063's!  It's a good day!

Recovery

It is slow.  Slower than I ever anticipated.  It's Saturday and I can bend my left knee past ninety and I can do stairs without wincing, but the quads are still sore.   Quads were even swollen on Friday - a full four days post race.  Now that's a new experience!  

But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.  That's what I'm marveling almost a week post-run - I ran the first 16 miles at an 8:45 minute mile - that's sub-3:50 marathon pace.  That's not really a big deal except that the first half of the race, though a net downhill, is rolling hills.  And so to run that consistent and that fast really is amazing to me.

To aid the recovery I'm taking long walks with Sydney - enjoying spring - because it's FINALLY arrived here in Colorado Springs and looking forward to a run sometime soon.

Running strong, Ouch, ouch!

The Race:  The first couple of miles click by.  This sun is out (I'd left behind my gloves and long sleeves just before hopping into my corral) and I can tell already this is going to be a hard race.  It may be net downhill for the first half, but there were an awful lot of rollers.  As promised, at about mile 2 the street is lined with bikers with beers.  The local biker bar lends racers enthusiastic support.  Every time I head up or down (and I do this more often than I'd like) I look ahead to a sea of runners.  Wow.  I have never seen so many runners. 

It is warmer than I anticipated.  Somewhere after mile two I decide that I should not only drink water, but also pour some over my head - keep the core cool.  I'm able to keep a pretty consistent pace for the first ten miles - somewhere between 8:35  and 8:45.  I am pleased with this and keep reminding myself that I want to soak in as much of this experience as I can.  I happily slap the outstretched hands of the spectators - kids and adults alike.  When I find myself not smiling, I remember to reach out my hand so that I get the whole experience. I talked to someone in the airport on the way home who was disappointed in his time - had tried to run a personal best and didn't and said if he could do it again he'd run for fun, "You could slap hands the entire 26.2 miles."  He was right about that - if you wanted to there was always one or two outstretched.

Several people had told me about the storefront in front of which no spectator stands - so that runners can glimpse their stride.  Just ahead of the windows, stood a guy with a megaphone guiding your vision to the reflection.  More impressive than the sight of my own stride was the rhythmic view of tons of runners running together.  I'd have missed it, I'm sure, had the megaphone not redirected my sight.  

Somewhere along the line stood a spectator with a cake - blue frosting, white cake and lots of those flat, round sprinkles.  He was holding out forkfuls, "Cake?  Cake anyone?"  The thought made my stomach turn but it brought a smile to my face.  Other spectators had orange slices and popsicles and beer.  I opted for none - so maybe I didn't really have as much fun as I could have, but everyone of them made me smile - and that's a mili-second when I'm not thinking about pace or pain!

As promised, approaching Wellesley - for nearly a 1/4 mile - I hear a high pitched whine. At first I think my ears are playing tricks on me, but it gets louder and louder and then I'm upon them.  Wellesley girls lining the route, hanging out over the barricade screaming at the top of their lungs. Hands outstretched, it's a place to slap some hands and get some energy.  I soak it all in.  This is the Boston Marathon - legendary.

Mile 17:  At last my parents.  I was beginning to struggle - quads just beginning to scream - quietly but still beginning to scream.  And there were my parents on the right side of the course - sign in hand.  Screaming at me to keep going.  I feel the adrenaline course through me.  I raise my arms and smile (or at least I think I did) to acknowledge that I see them, that I am fine, that they have given me a much needed boost.  Mom snapped two photos - the first shows only my raised fist as I am blocked by another runner.  The second shows agony - at least that's what I see in the photo (because that's what I was feeling) - slightly slumped shoulders - I can see the pain. They say I looked strong, solid.   

Newton Fire Station at 17.5 or nearing 18 is a sharp right turn.  Kat is standing on the left hand side of the turn and I miraculously see her.  And I run over for a hug and words of encouragement from her - "Keep going, keep going."  It's what I have to do.  I needed to see Mom and Dad and Kat at these moments - I need the adrenaline rush to get me up, down, up, down, up, down, UPPPP, down the Newton Hills and finally Heartbreak Hill.  I expected something monumental at the top of Heartbreak - nothing but PAIN.  I even slowed part way up and asked some guy if I could borrow his shoulder to try and stretch my throbbing left quad.  It didn't help.

I've passed 20 so I know it's only 10k to go, but I am in pain and struggling now to remember to have a good time.  I had hoped to maybe see my folks at 21.4 or possibly 22.4.  As it turns out they had their own adventure on the T.  Packed to the gills - like Sardines and lines that were crazy long.  We knew it was going to be a tough race to spectate.  The hope that I might see them definitely pulled me along - but I was slow - a couple of miles well over 10 minute pace - not pretty.  

Mile 23:  And I see Julie and Marsha on their bikes.  It's like I've seen angels!  Seriously!  They're screaming.  I'm in agony.  Quads are more than burning; left one is painful and throwing off my gait significantly.  I keep going spurred on by a new burst of adrenaline.  They hop on their bikes and navigate traffic and spectators and are hollering and screaming at the top of their lungs.  I can hear them and I can see them out of the corner of my eye.  They're with me easily for a mile and a half.  I pick up the pace and am running sub-10 minute miles again.  I look at my watch and realize I might just make it under four hours - if I'm lucky.  I go down a small hill, an underpass, and lose Julie and Marsha, but they have given me the nudge that I need.  I keep telling myself the faster I go the sooner  I will be done.  Easy mantra to say, not so easy to do.  My left quad is throbbing - it has never hurt in this particular spot before.  I keep pushing.  Right on Hereford.  Left on Boylston.

The Finish Line:  I see it.  At least a 1/4 mile yet to go.  With each step I am wincing in pain, but I am about to finish the Boston Marathon.  A year ago I wasn't even sure I could run a fast enough marathon to qualify to run Boston.  Now I'm finishing.   I read somewhere that Boston represents the top 10% of amateur runners in the country - I am among them.  I have run in the footsteps of Olympic Champions - of women's running heros - Deena Kastor, Katherine Switzer, Joan Benoit Samuelson and an Ethiopian and a Russian woman who dueled it out hours before me finishing only 2 seconds apart.  It is a magical moment as I cross the line. I am nearly in tears - joy, pain, elation, exhilaration, awe, amazement.

Screaming Quads!

Even two days later, they are still quite unhappy.  They prefer that I avoid stairs and that I not get up from a seated position.  The pitfalls of running 26.2.  

The race was unlike any experience I have ever had.  It was by far the HARDEST marathon I have ever run.  I am so pleased that I squeaked in under 4 hours.  Much gratitude owed to my parents, Kat, Julie and Marsha for being out on the course.  Never mind the second half being hilly, the whole thing rolls.  The first half might be a NET downhill, but that doesn't mean it's all downhill!

Day started early - as they always do - even though my race didn't start until 10:30 am.  I got three good hours of sleep and then after midnight I was checking the clock every hour.  At 5:20 I just gave in, turned the alarms off and got up.  Dad, Julie and I were out the door at 6:30 headed into Boston to find the buses to the start.

The Bus Ride:  With relative ease and a detour or two, we found the Tremont St. Side of the Boston Common and a lineup of school buses that went for block and blocks.  Weather was overcast, but predictions were for it to stay that way without rain and without breaking up much.  I wound my way to the end of the line where I met Adrienne Jones from Ontario, Canada.  This was her third Boston and she'd never seen the bus lines like this before.  I got in line about 7 and we pulled away from the Common about 7:25.  Ninety minutes later we FINALLY made it to Hopkinton.  The buses were like a train in the right lane on the interstate and as we pulled off the exit at Hopkinton and slowed to a stop (at least 20 minutes more to go it turns out) some couldn't hold it anymore.  A school bus full of nervous, hydrated runners isn't always a pretty place to be.  The bus drivers were kind enough to let the desperate ones off for a pee in the woods.  First it was one, he got applause when he returned to the bus.  Then it was many, from many buses.  Adrienne said she never seen this before either!  Once released from the bus I sought out a relatively short line for the potty, myself.  

The Athlete's Village:  I never really did get a full sense of the Athlete's Village as I didn't really have the time.  A couple of big tents set up and water and food - I'd brought my bagel and peanut butter with me so I didn't really need to find much - and thousands of people.  There were, afterall nearly 25,000 expected to start this race.  Other than my friend from the bus, nearly everyone else I talked to was a Boston first-timer.  I spent maybe 10 minutes collecting my thoughts, sitting in the grass, listening to my Ipod and centering myself.  Text from Jane said, "Life is an occasion; rise to it."  

Decisions about clothing were hard.  It seemed the sun was trying to break through the clouds.  I opted to leave the sweats in my bag and wore the gloves and long sleeve Target technical tee I had with me. Found the school bus window with my race number, 17715 and gave up my bag - cell phone, Ipod and extra clothes now out of reach until I was done with 26.2. One more stop in the "johns" and I was headed for Corral 17 - I'd forgotten that it was about .7 miles to the start line from the Village. That's when I started to feel butterflies.  I wondered if I'd make it to my Corral before the gun went off.  Wove my way through the crowd of runners and spectators and squeaked in with a minute or two to spare.

The Gun Goes Off:  I didn't move.  30 seconds, a minute, 90 seconds and I moved a bit.  Walking though, not running.  Another couple of minutes and I finally got to the start line.  Not bad, I was thinking it might take me as much as 10 minutes to cross the start, instead it took less than 5.  I'm on the right side of the two lane road that leave Hopkinton.  TV cameras are filming the start and we all wave our hands, hoping for our seconds of fame.  The side of the course is lined with spectators - young and old - holding out their hands for a high five.  One after the other after the other.  I choose to rise and high five as many as I can - I am here to have fun - it is my first Boston, afterall.  

Boston Marathon - 3:59:42

It's done.  It hurt.  I can rest now.  Until the next marathon!  An amazing day!

On Winged Feet

That must be how they run.  How can I describe what it was like to watch the fastest American women run?!  They were incredible.  Unbelievable. Focused. Deliberate.  And fast.  Just plain fast!  

The first woman to run past our vantage point was not Deena Kastor.  And that first woman was at least a full minute ahead of the pack you see above.  That pack was lead by American record holder Deena Kastor (#1).  The woman in front, who held her lead - which at one point was approaching two minutes - was Magdalena Lewy-Boulet.  She's a Polish emigree who got her citizenship on 9/11/01.  She ran an amazing race.  And it looked so effortless.  For both she and Deena.  And many others - 124 finished today's race.  The slowest runner was a 3:07 and change.  37 minutes faster than my best time.  I'd be happy to be last if I were running the Olympic Trials - just to have gotten there is an accomplishment and then to run with so many great American women.  I'd happily come in last!

What was so amazing was that at 12 and 18 the order of the top two hadn't changed.  And the distance between them was still significant.  But then came mile 24.  As I leaned out over the road to see who was behind the motorcade, my heart skipped.  The lead had changed.  Deena was in front.  By 10 seconds.  At mile 25ish she was 15 seconds ahead.  It seemed clear that she would win.  She was running effortlessly.  Focused.  Driven.  I cannot describe how it feels to watch these women run.  They are so tiny, so light on their feet and just so strong.

And so many behind them that were incredible too.  Joan Benoit Samuelson wore a yellow cap and a Livestrong singlet.  She has an awkward gait it seems to me.  But she ran a 2:49 and change.  At 50.  Unbelievable.  I saw her run.  The only US woman to win an Olympic Gold in the marathon.  In 1984.  At the first Women's Olympic Marathon ever.  Awesome!

In the presence of greatness.  I cannot have a bad day tomorrow after standing just feet away from these strong, fast women.  On winged feet may I travel tomorrow!

Boston Day 1

What a magical day.  It can only get better.  Bright and sunny, if a bit brisk, for a short run in Newton.  Legs felt good after flying yesterday.

Spent the morning at Fenway Park in an executive suite.  A CC event that was super fun and hopefully will yield us a few more members of the class of 2012. The amount of work that goes into prepping the field for a came is unbelievably meticulous and clearly takes most of the day.  I got goose bumps listening to the choir practice America the Beautiful.  I think that was the moment I really started to feel like I was here to run the Boston marathon.  

After the event Kat and I walked from Fenway to the convention center.  It is spring in Boston and we walked through the community garden plots near Fenway.  So many things beginning to bloom and such a gorgeous walk.  Getting my number was a piece of cake.  Getting my shirt, too.  They even had a separate room to try on the shirt so I could get the right size!  And it's a women's cut technical T, too.

Then came the Expo. Yikes.  I can't say I've ever seen so many people in one place.  So many fit people!  But so many people.  

I had two goals - see if I could get Katherine Switzer to sign my book and get a BAA Boston Marathon jacket.  Neither seemed like an easy task.   The Adiddas booths were insane.  Long lines, lots of disorganized racks and what appeared to be, at 2:15 pm on day 2 of the expo, a dearth of jackets - the only thing left - size xs.  Now I saw lots of fit people, but they were clearly normal sized people.  The only ones that might fit those extra small jackets are the elite runners.  Needless to say I was bummed.

So we went, instead, in search of Katherine Switzer.  Had something of a hard time, but finally discovered she was signing at the Runner's World booth.  She was due back in about 5 minutes from an interview.  It was worth waiting.  The woman working the booth said the Expo was extra crazy because the Marathon was sold out.  Apparently this isn't common, but because of the Women's trials this year the race has the second highest number of runners in its 112 year history.  And when they all bring friends and family to the expo - it's like sardines!  

Within minutes of 3 pm Katherine Switzer walked up to the Booth.  So easy, no waiting in line, a chance to thank her for the inspiration her book gave me while I was training for my Boston Qualifying race.  The inscription now in my book, "Marathon Woman," reads:  To Jessica!   In honor of your 1st Boston - This is a victory forever!...and you know it's Magic!  Go for it!  K. Switzer, Boston '08.  For those who don't know, she is the first official woman to run the Boston Marathon  in 1967 under the name K. Switzer.  The race director tried to shove her out of the race once he realized she was a woman, but she finished and helped build the women's running movement and was instrumental in securing the Women's Olympic Marathon in Los Angeles in 1984.  I am awed by her accomplishments as a runner and on behalf of female athletes.  She did make a point to say I shouldn't be loaning my book, but rather encouraging friends to buy it.  I assured here that with her note in my book I wouldn't likely be loaning it anymore!

We took one last look around and discovered what turned out to be the official BAA merchandise booth.  Move over Adiddas!  So jacket found, two bought and one returned (Kat and I both stood in line and they went equally fast, but neither of us is tall enough to see over a crowd) and book signed, we left the chaos.  

The rest of the day brought a quick shopping trip at Fenway, a trip to the airport in the Infiniti and a chance to do laps while we awaited my parents arrival and finally dinner with the friends in Cambridge who have so graciously opened up their home.

In the morning we see America's fastest women run.  I can't wait!

By the numbers

By the time I cross the starting line on Monday I will have run more than 480 miles since January in preparation for this race. 

Since January of 2007 when I really set my sights on trying to qualify I've run more than 1600 miles.  This will be my third marathon in less than a year and will make #4 in about 18 months. 

That's a lot of miles, but how can that be bad under the shadow of Pikes Peak?  I might maybe preferred to run fewer of them at o-dark-thirty in barely double digit temperatures.  But all of the other runs on bright, sunny Colorado days or on the road in sunny Southern CA made the really hard ones bearable.

I am ready for a bit of a break from the Garmin - I don't want to know my heart rate or my pace.  Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be headed to Boston without having paid close attention, but going to Boston has earned me not just the chance to run this amazing race & to be in the presence of great running icons, but it has also earned me the chance to run just because - long or short.  And it's earned me a little bit of couch potato time!

Boston Countdown

I haven't done this before.  But many keep telling me that they're inspired by my running.  And since my running has taken me places I never imagined maybe it's a good place to start a blog.  A year ago the thought of running the Boston Marathon was a BHAG (Big Hairy Audacious Goal) - a phrase I learned a number of years ago at the Center for Creative Leadership.  In other words, a long shot.

Last June, I had the race of my life, literally.  On a day when few others had a good race because the weather was much warmer than anticipated I ran more than 12 minutes faster than my previous marathon time.  Rather than an out of body experience, I'd describe it as an "out of mind" experience.  I let go of all the mental doubts and nags and ran with my heart, listening only to my legs and my body.  I qualified with 60 seconds to spare. Not bad!  My previous marathon was in Des Moines, IA in October of 2006.  It was only my second marathon and my first under 4 hours, but that's when I heard that first whisper hinting at a Boston Qualifying time.  I needed a 3:45:59.  

Grandma's Marathon in Duluth was my first marathon in June of 2001 and my Boston Qualifier in June of 2007.  It is a great race.  Small town charm, well supported and just fun.  What better place to "ice" sore legs after the race of my life than in Lake Superior which provided the path - the scenic highway by it's side and a beautiful distraction (when the going got tough).  

So tonight I sit here downloading Runner's World podcasts to listen to on the plane to Boston and trying to get the Athlete Alert to work on my mom's cell phone - that way they'll have some idea of when they might see me among the 25,000 other runners.  My plane is Friday morning and I'm ready to be on it.