Fall is in the air.

I am not really motivated to write here. Yet again. It seems like a black hole. I think so many things in my head, and at those times feel eager to put it down. But then time passes, I don't open computer, I lose that thought, don't feel the need to express it, life moves on. More thoughts come in, I want to make sure they stay for good. Yet, this place is dead, and that makes it useless. I guess I'll keep up with it for the reminder of the year, since I promised myself. Then the blog will have the fate of all the other blogs. Down the drain it'll go.

Before September even began, I squeezed one more thing into August. On the last Friday I ran a Missing Link loop, a 30 mile trail loop that connects Pikes Peak trail system with Cheyenne canyon trail system and Red Rock trails. I have been on all trails but 4 miles of the Missing Link proper, a fairly newly built trail named Lake Moraine, from mile 6 on Barr trail (going up Pikes Peak) to Jones Park trail #667, which runs inside Cheyenne Canyon. It was a perfect long run, I was curious about the link-up, plus it happened to not have an established female FKT. I thought of going after it as a sort of consolation prize - a very puny one. Plus, for real, I had a 50k race coming up, and not a single long run since the beginning of June.

Anyway, here's a write up for the page. I actually was hoping to be close to the guy's time, but a) was surprised how much climb the link-up had, and b) got lazy and didn't get water at the last source. My legs were pretty tired to begin with, from all the 14-ers and backpacking during a week prior (I, literally, had 3 days between our active vacation and this loop), and by getting dehydrated and hot, I struggled last 3 miles mighty. Though, lets be honest, those 3 miles wouldn't have taken off 20 minutes. Also, my watch clocked extra mile on top of described, and that, too, was a downer. Other than that, a perfect morning!

Another 3 days later I went up Pikes Peak. It was my 5th time this year, and 26th overall. Beautiful morning, just a normal outing in my normal time up. It'd the way down that shook me - in a good way. Considering how tired I was supposed to be now, when I began jogging down from the top, I suddenly realized I am doing ok. So, I opened up. And kept moving well. Even on the section I hate passionately for all the techy stuff (between A-frame and Barr camp). And then, what the hell, kept pressing the gas pedal, repeating the mantra "Watch the feet!". It was exhilarating and weird. I got a 15 min PR for the Barr downhill. Go figure.

That was Wednesday. On Friday we left the house right at lunch, and drove to Winfield. We parked just above the ghost town, not trying to kill the car on the narrow 4WD road up to Huron TH. The evening was spectacular with colors changing the sky, and with doing absolutely nothing. I rarely have this kind of opportunity, so I was absorbing it all, sitting, reading a little, just being.

We spent the night in the car - bad idea for the two of us. Me, alone, fine. Larry and his 6 ft frame took all the back, and he wasn't even comfortable there, and I was crooked in the front passenger seat. We paid for not bringing the tent.

Yet it definitely sped up the morning process. Put a pack on - and close the car doors. Done. Up we went, first 2 miles on that dirt road, then 3.5 miles to the top of Huron mountain. I needed another 14-er - for the 14-er sake (my number 23 individual CO peak), and because my next race required me to keep altitude training. We passed a handful of folks, made a steady progress, and got to the top for some fantastic views. It was rather a chilly wind at the top, and the first third of a mile down, as always, all scree and shit, made me extra slow, but then we even managed to jog parts of the trail down, slightly scaring other hikers. You know, two old people of not such small size, running down on the rocks. Spooky. Folks moved away.

Quick trip - we got home for lunch! It was time for some R&R. I decided I need some change in life, and as much as I hate cycling, nor can I do it (at all, I am not joking), I bought me s cruiser. And a stationary bike, but this thing is fine. It's the real bike that I am terrified about. I never owned one as a child, and rode altogether in my life less than a dozen of times. None of which included ability to stop and get off, to turn, or to avoid things )both objects and subjects) in front of me. Haha, not funny. So, on Sunday after Huron Larry took me on Greenway for an 8 mile ride. Which also included a mile of road crossings to get there, and same mile back. Somehow, I made it. At a very slow poke pedaling, pretending I am ok, while having a white knuckle grip. Lets see what's next for me here.

And just like that, it was time for my race. Devil on the Divide 50k (30 mile), that had a 6200 ft elevation change and was going above 13,200 in altitude. Before that race, I spent the night at my ol' friend's Kristin Jossi home. What a blast we had! Hailing back to good days of Oregon running, both of us young and fast(er), and trying to hold on to what was. Mostly, trying to live our passion, our love for the trail running, for the mountains, fore the great big outdoors. It was an incredibly wonderful evening of talking and sharing.

The weather channel kept predicting snow, though that didn't happen. We did have a cold front though, the rain all night prior, and temps on the ridge of CDT (first 10 miles of the race) below freezing with crazy stifling wind. I drove in the rain for an hour, but as I arrived to the town of Empire, it was done. Got my bib, we all were loaded on the buses and taken to the start (it's a point-to-point course). And at 7 am, we were sent up for the next, oh, over 6.5 miles, all the way to CDT and it's highest point at 13,200. Once above tree line, we popped out of the clouds, and the inversion was absolutely stunning - and breathtaking. I didn't take any of my own photos, so I am sharing here what I found of others' on various social media. These next three are by Kaleb Timberlake.

I had a pretty rough start. First 2 miles were my usual "heart up my throat, erratic breathing". I hate racing. I love racing, but hate those first 2 miles, I am a nervous wreck no matter how what I tell myself and how little I care about an outcome. I can't handle pressure, mostly from myself. Or anything that has a "go", a distinguished sign of the beginning. Yet that day, once the 2 mile shit settled in, I found my legs were dead. Like, not responsive. Feeling weak and tired and heavy. So much for the goals. So much for all the altitude acclimation.

By mile 6 I resolved I am simply making it to the finish line, threw away predictions and expectations and plans, and kept on moving. My eyeballs froze on the ridge, and seeing was problematic even as we began descending a bit - my left eye had been frozen for real before, so every time temps dip, or wind shoots (or both), I lose depth perception. Though that was minor at the "speed" I was moving. Just before cresting the high point, I see a photographer, and he yells "Hi Olga!". It is always humbling and touching to be remembered by name - he said he shot Sawatch 50 last year (and High Lonesome this year). And that made him remember my name? Thank you. 

More random photos of different sections are HERE. I straightened up a bit, reached the top, and we floated above the clouds for a couple of miles, then dropped for another 2, ran out to the little out-back to punch our bibs, and started to make our way to the real AS. As that out-n-back was happening, I felt that every single woman in front of me was "of age". Like, they all were in my age group, or at least Master division. Yikes. 

Somehow I perked up with that. I was just beginning to run, and the next 3 miles into the AS at 13.5M (which also served as the finish line for the 22k racers) I was getting uplifting in my spirit. Not all is lost, I thought, even though the descend was in the woods, and thus very entangled with the roots of all kinds, which I mostly tip-toed around gingerly. Do not fall. Save yourself for the second half. There was a woman taking race photos half a mile before the turn to a little out-back to the AS, and she, too, seemed to have said something, though I was still focusing on my feet. 

As I made a turn to the AS, I saw a few girls going back out - so very close. I quickly refilled just one water bottle, and charged back. I was running...and that didn't last long, because within a quarter mile we started to climb. And climb. Steep, rather technical, long. I worked hard, hiking. After all, this is my territory. I passed a guy. A girl. Another man. Another dude. 

I spot a couple ahead, and keep them in my view. We climb like that for 3 miles, and the next 5 go wild: we turn onto Bard trail from CDT, and this trail is sort of not a trail - although it does have a name (and even a sign at the turn), and by now, 8 years into the race, is pretty defined (for the most part), it is still very narrow - and VERY slanted, and goes up and down excessively non-stop for 5 miles straight. At mile 17 there are a couple volunteers with water jags - they filtered water from the nearest nature source, and I fill one more bottle. For a mile we climb, again, not as steep as after the previous AS, but nevertheless, and it is, indeed, crooked. I gain on a couple more people and pass. Then I lose trail - it is marked, and I don't know how I did, as I looped a little farther than I had to, until I spotted the flag. I repeat this mistake 2 more times, while keeping an eye on a very tall guy ahead - it seems that I get closer, then with my half-loops pull back, then get back on the heels. Eventually, we claim the ridge, and I pass him, at last. A little jog down on some more of a grass-hopping field, and an AS at mile 21 - I get my last water bottle filled, and it is a downhill finish. I actually have legs, so I try to utilize them. At first, it is still a trail, with roots and stuff under, but then it sort of dumps us on the 4WD road. Kristin warned me about it - ankle turning - yet somehow, while I am prepared for the worst, I have no fear. I run, getting speedier, and as I approach one last AS (around mile 26), I spot a female in front. I don't stop, briefly thanking the women volunteers. The yell: "Go get her!". I work hard, and I feel like I get closer, but much slower than I would have wanted. She's obviously more ginger on the sliding dirt that is mixed up with sticking up rocks and potholes. I am doing well, until - WHAM! - I am on my ass. Dang, that stings!

My left thigh and butt cheek are bleeding with a dirt road rush, but other than that, I am ok. I slid, planting my heel down too hard and fast. As far as MY FALLS come, this was benign, I tell myself, and take off, again (much better than full body slam forward as a Superman with chunks of flesh hanging off my knees, elbows, and hands). Fun fact: I wore my hiking gloves because I was preparing myself for the inevitable fall I am so infamous for. In this case, I didn't use it. But I did like having them, nevertheless. Shortly, I level with the gal, she says - "Olga, from Springs?". She, Tanya, is also from COS. I praise her running. Move forward. And - the flatter portion begins. Right here, a mere couple of minutes of running in front of her, I get passed back by Tanya. I can't match it. I have no flat speed whatsoever, no turn over. I look at my watch, and I am doing very good - by my standards. But - not enough to hold on to her. She pulls away, and, alas, I let her go. In fact, I take a brief walk break, just to solidify in my mind that I can't chase. She pulls away, and soon, I don't see her. In the next less than 2 miles, she puts 3 minutes on me - 3!! I respect this greatly. However, I am done pushing. Because, somehow, while I had a rough beginning, and at some point was not certain I can break 8 hrs - I am running sub-7:30 and can hear the finish. My tentative goals were 7 to 7:30. I take a turn and jog in 7:19. I am thrilled. Tanya takes my photo, and I blame her for my fall - with a smile. I said I tried. I chased her where my strength was, but she got me on the flat perfect footing road at the end, big time.

Ah, yes, she was also in my age group. 50. What a tough group to be in! Don't discount us! Anita Ortiz was 3rd female overall, Tanya was 11th and 2nd 50+, and I got 13th and 3rd. I'll be ok in this company!

The weather during the day was just perfect (sans that freezing wind first 2 hrs), but in the last 3-4 miles, the clouds rolled, and the temps dropped a bit. As soon as I finished and got my scratched up ass to the car, the rain started. I praised Heavens for holding it off - and myself for getting it down before the sky turned. The drive home was rain, and all rain...Another funny fact: when I finished and texted him, his first question was: "In one piece?". I responded - sort of, almost:)

I wasn't all too sore after, probably because there was more hiking involved than running. I did feel tired, yet managed a shuffle on Monday morning. On Monday evening, though, to my absolute astonishment, I felt so much better as I set out to Red Rocks during the Aravaipa thing, that I cranked 6.7 miles, and, according to Strava, PR'ed a handful of short sections of my run. I actually ran, and I felt good doing it.

 

Life is not all running, of course. At that last neighbor's Alley Party we were introduced to a new to the street couple - they moved last November. David and Lil are about our age, and they do Ironman - which means like-minded fit people. Lil and I took off quickly, and we now go to my weekly yoga together, and also take a walk and talk once a week. It's been delightful to have a human friend, not only online and text and email.

The neighborhood itself held 2 of our usual Patty Jewett yearly parties on consecutive weekends: the Potluck, and the Porchfest. Both were a good get-out-of-the-house things. Our alley neighbor (who's getting up in age and occasionally needs help) has shared his peaches, and I managed to bake an exquisite gluten-free peach cake! This gentleman, 86 yo, is also of (as the joke goes) my "uncle": his father was born in Russia, and his grandfather actually served in Russian army (the one before Tsar got killed). Well, technically, his ancestors are German, but they lived in Volga region - where my father's family hails from. Back centuries ago our tsars brought a German population, and there's a whole region of them still living there.

On Wednesday, I made my way up Incline, checking off September box. No excitement was present at any level, have no idea how I managed to do it weekly last year. But, I am going to hold on to this little goal, and by December, I should be at number 100 total - and then will take a break for a long time.

With that, the weekend approached when I had another commitment: to crew for Annie in her yet another 100 mile race. Run Rabbit Run. The girl is definitely tired and "run down", but due to her sponsor's obligations, she's got this one, and Javelina. With her, I have to admit, I've been run down and tired, as well. This year along, it's my 6th event to get her through the night(s), and since Cocodona included 3 of those, make it 8th. We need to get it done, and get it done in style - although I do not foresee wins and course records this time. Still, it has to be fully in, no other way allowed.

What else is out there? I have gotten fluffier that I would like to admit, and right on cue, my good ol' friend Ronda invited me to join her in a 75 day challenge. I am looking forward starting it right after RRR and Larry and I's 13th wedding anniversary. It's been a long year already, and I still have 3 more races - and a couple of things I want to add to it. There are quite a few travels coming up, as well, family, and otherwise. Some will be relaxing, some - not so much. I just want to sit in a rocking chair with a mountain view in front of me and a book in my hands...