we had a good day

Several amazing strokes of luck aligned for Lloyd and me yesterday: the Parents’ Day Out program at a local church was both open and had space for our 2 goofballs (5 hours of freedom for only $44; feels like a bargain to me!), the soaking rains that have been hanging around for over a week relented for the morning, and neither of us had anything else pressing to do.

So, we headed out for a run/hike along the Wheeler trail here in Breckenridge. I’m thinking about attempting the Breck Crest half-marathon September 5th and have hired Lloyd as my coach/consultant/mentor. Lloyd did the full marathon last year and took me out today to expose me to the hardest part of the course so I would have a sense of what I might really be getting myself into with this (and just how insane I am if I really try it).

The trail starts at about 10,000 feet and pretty quickly climbs over 2,000 feet, over approximately 3 miles. It is a bit humbling; we ran the flatter parts and hiked a lot of it. But oh! Breathtaking. Shockingly beautiful. Excessively gorgeous and amazing.

The photos are chronological. Thank you, new camera! Your photos are so much better than our old clunker, at the end held together by a rubberband but refusing for months to finally bite it.

Lloyd likes this one because I’m in the middle of exclaiming (again) how effing beautiful it is. My hands are trying to emphasize the point.

Self-portrait; I made Lloyd doff hat and sunglasses for it. I think he was worried about his hair? Just kidding honey! But you do look a little serious.

I love cloud shadows on mountains. Don’t you?

Cairn with a tree branch on the left, me small and distant to the right of that.

Here I am, small and distant again, in an area with a lot of little streams and marshy spots.

That’s me! That little vertical speck on the trail down there! You can tell who mostly carried the camera….

Lloyd warned me running the steep descent would be the hardest part; indeed, my quads are feeling it. He has told me (several times now) that mountainous ultra-marathons with lots of steep descent often result in “blown quads”. I hate that idea. What does he mean, blown? Is there a popping noise? Or more like a whoopie cushion? Yuck.

At the summit, looking west.

Lloyd doing “”contemplative”, per my directions.

Beer usually makes me smile! Not sure why I seem to be taking it so seriously here! On the deck at Kenosha steakhouse in town, where we enjoyed buffalo burgers and a pint. Glorious! The rains arrived shortly after we started eating and chased us inside to finish. What a day!

life in color

I sometimes think the Depression happened in black and white, but here is a collection of some of the only color photographs of that era. They were taken by the Farm Security Administration and Office of War Information. I hope you find them as interesting and as beautiful as I do.

My Big Weekend of Mountain Biking

First, HUGE thanks go out to Lloyd, who allowed me to do something completely by myself and for myself for a whole weekend. Wow. And it was amazing, too.

Babes in the Backcountry is badass, and so are the two women who led our weekend, Leslie Ross (founder and owner of the organization), and Annie Black, who runs a local women’s biking group and who Leslie tapped to coach and teach us. These women are incredible: both former racers, both in insanely good shape, both super tough but also sweet, encouraging and affirming. They are absolutely inspiring.

The weekend kicked off with a little wine tasting/social hour at a wine bar, then an hour-long mini bike mechanic lesson. We broke for the night, then started Saturday with a yoga for bikers class led by multi-talented Leslie. We spent the morning on drills and fundamentals, broke for lunch, and did some short group trail rides and impromptu lessons until late afternoon. A several hour break, then we met again for more wine tasting and socializing. Sunday started off with yoga again, then a long group trail ride into the afternoon.

I rented a Trek Fuel EX8 for the weekend and it took me up and down trails all over Breckenridge in great style. Let me just say, we were almost literally riding the trails in our backyard! These are the trails I run 4-5 times a week! It was fun to see them from such a different perspective (specifically, moving past everything much more quickly).

So, my bruise tally is well into double digits (the bruises now fading to a hideous yellow-green). It wasn’t that I fell often, just that when I did fall, it was a real mess. I was one of only two true beginners, and at the beginning I needed a little lesson on such fundamentals as gear shifting. By the end I was cruising down switchbacks and winding up, down, around and through rough singletrack, which we have here in embarrassing abundance. That’s a testament to the skill of the teachers.

Unfortunately, most of the photos are group shots and there really aren’t any of me tearing it up (which I think I did?). Here we all are before our group ride on Sunday. Leslie is in the red jersey, back row, third from the left. Annie is in the front row in black and pink. Maybe you can’t tell from this picture, but the fact that this woman is 56 is mind-bending.

Group shot taken during a break on our group ride…

At the wine, cheese and chocolate tasting Saturday night. No kidding. I’ll be keeping in touch with all 3 gals at the table with me. The hats were schwag Leslie got for us, and she took this shot, which explains why we’re all grinning like goons (that, and the fact that we were at a wine tasting).

Annie issuing instructions before some drills. She is also a long-time racing coach, and therefore made us do many goofy things that paid off when we moved off the soccer field and onto the trails…

Group ride. That’s Breckenridge ski mountain behind us…

This was such a cool group of women. I’m second from the right in black. Behind us, winding up the big hill, is a series of gnarly switchbacks that we rode both up and down.

My only action shot. Sweet, right?

I’m looking into finding a break on an end-of-the-season demo bike, hopefully the same bike I rented; can’t wait to hit the trails for more!

birthday party

Our beloved cat Mac turned 15 today. I adopted him in Chicago in September of 1995 when he was just eight weeks old. For a special treat we held a party for him today and he enjoyed his very first can of wet cat food. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, so I hope he doesn’t start rejecting the food he’s eaten for the last decade and a half. He may have lost an inch or two off of his vertical leap, but all things considered, he’s in phenomenal shape; most people are shocked when they learn his age. Happy birthday, old buddy.

the party starts rolling…

bopping their balloons…

in fine spirits…

Junie helping Mac blow out his candle…

Mac didn’t know what he was missing all these years…

and some photos from the vault. just a few weeks old…

with his old friend, Dottie…

noticeably better picture than the others—of course, taken by my sister Molly…

and in the wild. handsome fella…

peak 8 date

Jolee and I took a gondola ride up to Peak 8 this morning. A delightful way to start the day.

And please note, we finally replaced our camera that died a month or two ago. I know I’ve said it before, but hopefully we’ll post photos of the kids on a more consistent basis.

Perhaps a bit unsure at this point…

Sipping juice and hitting the dried mango pretty hard…

Feeling a little more confident on the way down…

mango junkie…

a run, an architectural gem, and dessert

I hadn't planned on posting any sort of report on Saturday's North Fork 50 Miler, but it was notable for a few reasons:

1. It was my last really long training run before Leadville, which is now less than five weeks away.

2. At the end of the race my car thermometer said 94. That's 15 to 20 degrees warmer than my warmest run this year. I also realized that it was at least 100 degrees warmer than my coldest run of the year (at least with the wind chill accounted for, a few pre-dawn runs in January dipped well below zero). Anyways, it was scorching. At times I pretended I was back in North Carolina; I thought I might be able to fool my body into thinking it was acclimated to such conditions. For the most part, I think it worked. I didn't feel great on the course, but I blamed my tired legs on all the miles and climbing I've done in the last few weeks rather than the hot weather.

3. The condition of the course was incredible. It was 100% trails, and 99.9% was finely crushed dirt. With 7,200 feet of climb, it was a very challenging course, but my feet didn't have to endure the pounding on rocks they typically suffer in an ultra.

4. The aid-station support was second-to-none. It was on par with the Bull Run Run in Virginia, which is legendary for its great aid-stations. I've seen and eaten a wide variety of items at different races, but one aid-station at this race had bacon. Yep. Crisp, delicious bacon. My eyes lit up when they asked, "Would you like some bacon?" Of course I would, and I did. Twice. And then around mile 40 on my third and final trip past this particular aid station they offered me hash browns. It was a dream come true. They loaded up a cup of hash browns for me, dowsed it with salt, and I happily went on my way. And then at the next aid station they had popsicles. I felt pampered. The volunteers at all the aid stations were super friendly and helpful. Once the heat of the day settled in, all the aid stations had ice so I loaded up my hat at each stop (and would then run with a numb head for a good five to ten minutes).

5. My 9:38:44 actually won my age group. Like I said, I didn't feel great and I was suffering on the course, but I gather that most people suffered worse as there were many DNF's (Did Not Finish). This goes to show, however, that bacon is clearly the fuel of champions.

6. On the drive to the race, which was about an hour-and-a-half away, I thought I was hallucinating when I passed a sign that said "Coney Island" with an arrow pointing to the right. A few hundred feet later I passed the Coney Island, which I had only seen on the Food Network and I think on an old PBS special on the hot dog. It was a thrilling sight. I thought about stopping on the way home from the race but I was in a rush to get back and relieve Adrienne from solo parenting duties, and quite frankly, there was no way I could have stomached a hot dog just then. So now that I knew where the Coney Island was located, how long did it take to make a trip there? Less than 24 hours. We visited friends in Denver yesterday and we took the scenic route back to Breckenridge so we could stop for hot dogs. Clearly, the building itself is an architectural wonder. Although it's called Coney Island, it is not a Coney Island in the Detroit sense of the word. Nonetheless, the hot dogs were good, June loved her cheeseburger, and June and Jolee both made friends with the baby squirrels hanging out in the courtyard next to the restaurant.

And then to finish off the day, we stopped for ice cream in Fairplay. June and Jolee deserved the treat, they were both traveling superstars throughout the day.

June’s friend Luke and his family happened to be there too…

I kid you not

Fortunately, Adrienne spent last night in Denver and this morning is running the Garden of the Gods 10 Miler in Manitou Springs. I’m glad she wasn’t here this morning to see this…

I’m also fortunate that June didn’t feel like weeping like I did. Instead, she was ecstatic about the snowfall. She got right to playing. Jolee was still sleeping or she would have been out there rolling in the wet snow too. I’d be remiss, however, if I didn’t mention that our weather for the past few weeks has been amazing—low 70s and no snow on the trails. Hopefully this will melt by this afternoon…