Two things stand out that I love:
Facebook. I know, I know. Not because I can be updated on Sally's status that she just took a bath and shaved her pubes and used Dove soap and made bubbles out of her farts in the bath then went to bed. But where else could I post: "Anyone up for a 2 hour run?" and immediately get some much needed company?
Training for a marathon is hard, but training alone and having to hang out with myself for so many endless miles each week is harder. Don't get me wrong, I do love myself. I can be funny, competitive, compassionate and lively. I forgive myself for all those snot rockets, skid marks and farts along the way. I don't mind if I have to steal off the route to lay down a turd and my B.O. doesn't offend me as much as it would offend anyone else. But good God, I'm tired of me sometimes!
So a new friend, Leigh, who is training for her first Ironman in November, said she'd go. After all, she only road 61 miles on her bike yesterday. Today she needed to run three hours then go swim another mile or so. My measly two hour run was a drop in the bucket to this stud muffinette. When I say new friend, I mean we've only met once before through another friend who I met in cyberspace. It's all very convoluted, but we're moms, same age, live in the same place and have some of the same goals. Plus I really like this girl, so it works.
Which brings me to another thing I love: other runners. After doing the relay, my faith has been restored in runners. We are one cool and welcoming and supportive group (unless you join some running group in Boulder and are not chic and new age enough to be included).
So Leigh suggested a trail run outside of Lyons, CO. And onto the other thing I am loving today (and everyday) Colorado. Voila le Picture Rock Trail:
We drove to the trial head about 15 minutes away. Middle of nowhere. Her husband, Mark, joined us. I immediately loved Mark because he tucked a plastic water bottle in the back elastic band of his shorts and said, "Do you like my fancy hydration system?" Here's what happened along the way:
- About three miles up we stepped over a steaming 1 ' x 1 ' pile (mess) of bear crap. Brand new crap with all kinds of berries. Bear must've been nearby, but I didn't want to think about that for fear that the bear's next turd would have my chewed tampon and pieces of my running shoelaces in it.
- The trail was rocky and steep in places. I wiped out twice. The second time Mark said it was graceful like I was on a pummel horse. See I knew there was a reason I did gymnastics in high school. So that when I fell running on a trail when I was 42 I would look like I was merely doing a routine on the horse.
- On the way back we saw a family of four trying to take a Sunday morning mountain bike ride together. I said to the mom, "Hey looks like you're out for a nice family ride." She shot me a look as if to say, "Shut up you skinny bitch runner. This ride sucks and I'm only out here and not eating donuts and drinking coffee because my husband made me." Yikes. I think divorce occurred after that run.
- We went 12 miles in two hours. It's only an 11 minute mile, but lay off you speedies. A 12 mile steep trail run at 6,000 ft. elevation is equal to at least 50 miles on asphalt. So really, we did about 2.5 min/miles.
- My socks at the end of the run. You should have seen my feet. They look like I had just dipped them in a vat of diarrhea:
So I'm only 70 days out from San Antonio, my hopeful Boston qualifier. I've already psyched myself out somewhat. Can I sustain an 8:30 pace average over 26.2 miles. Damn I hope so. What do you say to yourself to psych yourself up to meet a goal that you're not entirely sure you can meet?