Years ago I remember driving to Estes Park for the wedding of a friend - I was taking a day or two of vacation at a time of year when that's near impossible and I was sandwiching the "once in a lifetime" event in between work trips. But I still remember the feeling of weight lifting from my shoulders as I crested a ridge and saw the ragged vista of Rocky Mountain National Park. I am always overcome with a sense of peace - reminded that this life is so much bigger than my small segment. My soul is less restless and I feel a sense of peace and of calm.
I was reminded of that this weekend - in an entirely different place - but a place that I have been several times with friends, with my parents and on my own. There is a similar vista as you summit Rabbit Ears Pass and descend into the valley that is Steamboat Springs. And this year it is even more stunning - an emerald green accentuated by the white caps of still snow-covered mountains as well as clouds shedding rain off and on. And there is also the grayish, blue of the Yampa River, with it's own white caps because it is running so high and fast.
I needed this weekend with some amazing women that I am lucky to call my friends. The reason we all came together was to run a half marathon; the reality is that the weekend was so much more. Laughter is cleansing, like the rain is cleansing. And there was lots of both these last few days.
It all started post dinner on Saturday night as we all painted our toenails - an important task prior to a race - a new tradition, maybe. Laughter and bright colors. After only 4 1/2 hours of sleep on Friday night - after an AMAZING O.A.R show at Red Rocks (the perfect kick off to a great weekend) I was headed to bed early. I've never sleep so soundly before a race.
The starting line was filled with the usual pre-race nerves and energy. I loved being with people for the first time in a few years. And when the gun went off, most of us Herizons/CRC girls crossed the starting line together. I have NEVER crossed the starting line with anyone I know. I have gone to races with friends, but I have never started with them. It was an exhilarating feeling and one I would need to get me through this run, reminding me often that the race itself was only one small part of the weekend.
I did not have a good race. But I ran among cows, horses, a rushing, white-capped river and raindrops. Despite the difficult day, this is still one of my favorite races. It's a beautiful course and it's a course that has been good to me in previous years - my first sub-two-hour half marathon and my half-marathon personal record (1:50:56). This year saw a 2:01 and change - my first half over two hours in quite some time and a pace that was slower even than my Boston pace. The hardest part was that my body felt good, certainly like it could go faster. But my lungs had other plans. I couldn't get a breath deeper than my breastbone. I'm sure I was taking 2-3 breaths for every one I normally take. Even on the downhill. At one point I just wanted to stop, but what would be the point in that? So it's not the best race I've run. It was "the best I could for the day" as a friend of mine always says. Even if it wasn't pretty. I finished. And if that isn't always the first and most important goal, there's no point in racing. I am lucky to be able to run and lucky that running feeds my soul, often like the mountains do. Not every race can be good. And as the final blocks ticked passed there were nearly all of my girlfriends - yelling and screaming and looking out for me and the others behind me. I couldn't look at them as I passed, certain that tears would spring to my eyes, but I was grateful for their voices and for the glimpses of their pink and purple shirts. Among us there were personal bests, rejuvenating runs after many months of pain and agony, and everything in between.
And then the real fun began. A soak in the hot tub, chased in by the rain, followed by golden margaritas for lunch. A shopping spree at the well advertised FM Light & Sons yielded a lot of hilarity, three straw cowgirl hats, a pair of UGG flip-flops, and some good socks. Back to the unbelievable 3-story condo to prepare for the next adventure.
A twenty-minute drive landed us at the Strawberry Park Hot Springs. Many a rain shower and even more laughter accented the hours we spent soaking in the pools. Some of us were braver than others - attempting dips - mostly just limbs - into the freezing cold river water. And poor Jillian got dunked into the cold by some obnoxious, ego-centric older men. An unfortunate end to an awesome afternoon, though it didn't dampen our spirits, only gave us more fuel! The day end with dinner at Mahogany Ridge - one of two great recommendations from Kat and Zach. Great Burgers were a fitting end to a full and good day.
Monday allowed all of us to sleep in - a rarity in my world since my four-legged friend is usually up at 5 am - who needs an alarm clock. We awoke to the same mix of gray and blue skies we'd seen all weekend. One minute rain, the next sun. You'd have thought the place would have been full of rainbows, but I saw not one all weekend. A pot of coffee and some discussion about our morning plan. We hopped online to see how far away Freshies was from our condo. An easy 2.6 miles so we opted for a walk. Great idea, only it turned into the last great adventure of the weekend. Few sidewalks and no obvious access to the river trail made for a longer trip than anticipated. But it was well worth the walk. A short stack of the fluffiest blueberry pancakes I may have ever eaten, scrambled eggs and bacon. Mmm. I didn't eat again until dinner that night. And the owner (maybe she was just an employee) gave us the quick tip on finding the river path and noted she's seen us in our journey down the mountain, not once but three times as she traveled in her car up the mountain and back. Even thought about offering us a ride!
I wasn't ready to leave the beauty, the peace, the serenity and the company of so many friends. I couldn't stay because my best friend, Sydney, was waiting patiently at home, but a part of me is still there sitting on the third floor porch of the condo Jillian found us. I dream about living in a place like Steamboat or Carbondale. Maybe someday I will be brave enough to do more than just dream about it. But for right now, I can dream about next year's trip and I can look forward to the next adventure - a trail race in Vail, followed by a few days of peace and beauty and good mountain running in Crested Butte.
