Morning in the Mountains

The most amazing sight during the race was seeing the long, serpentine line of 200+ headlamps behind me in the pre-dawn light on an open rolling prairie.  All I could saw was, “wow!”.   This area holds a special meaning to me, since it would mean running on a few of the trails where I would complete my first “official” trail run in a mountain area.  Yes, I had run on trails, but until that previous day, I didn’t realize there was an organized sport known as trail running.

I love this area!  And, came very close several years ago to moving there until I read an article in a national magazine declaring the area one of the top places for retirees.  Ironically, it’s where I’d like to retire and spend my days exploring the trails.  Being in the mountains fuels my spirit and it’s been that way for as long as I can remember.  And, I don’t necessarily have to be running in the mountains.  Just sitting on a rock with a nice vista overwhelms me with peacefulness and nothing else creates that emotion like being in the mountains.

My goal was to finish the run in five hours.  It was an arbitrary goal with no thought given to the time other than it seemed like a reasonable goal.  I did run conservatively for the first half, similar to what I’d do for twice the distance, and having a heart rate monitor helped ensure I wasn’t redlining.  The climbs on the road were my favorite, mostly because I ran them and coming from sea level it seemed like quite an accomplishment.  And, although the views were obscured in clouds all day, I could use my imagination on what it must have looked like on a clear, blue-bird day.  The odd occurrence was during the top of the first climb when I fingers of one hand were frozen and numb, yet my visor brim was dripping with sweat.  Why I never thought to pack gloves is beyond me, especially considering how thorough I am in preparation.

Speaking of preparation, I didn’t study the aid station mileages before the race and, instead, just asked how far to the next one.  The only thing I did know was that there were three climbs, but didn’t realize we would finish the course on a descent, instead of a long flat.  It was unlike me not to know the details, but I had a cavalier attitude towards the shorter distance which was obvious from the leg cramping I experience in the last three miles—not enough fluids for certain considering my sweat rate on the climbs.  Flushed those electrolytes straight out of my system with nary a salt tablet taken until the last five miles. You can get away with quite a bit when it’s cold and cloudy.

I was amazed at the runners prancing up the climbs, which was most of them.  It makes you realize that we don’t really have an excuse not to run all the climbs in Austin because they are so short—nothing over five minutes that I can recall.  In Austin, I have developed multiple gears on local climbs, but in Colorado, I had one, besides a walk.

Now, it’s time to buckle down, tighten the belt, and make the next six weeks count.  My biggest fear is failure, which, for me, is mental, although I’d like to convince myself, otherwise.  There are only two words to describe my goal when things get tough in June.   “Just finish…”.