I did my 12 races for 12 calendar month of this year. It wasn't an original goal as the year began, but it progressed there organically and nearly accidentally, and by March it materialized as such. In October, a day before my birthday, I ran a new Aravaipa Colorado event in Grand Junction.
Two thing to say about this one: the views and trails suck ass (and to those who are all "aw, so beautiful", go see the desert or some other dirt rocky crap), and mid-way, as I was getting stronger and passing folks, I got misdirected by a volunteer (unintentionally, at the split of 50M and 55k races), and made an extra mile for myself. This shook me and made me work harder than needed to regain my position, I cramped last 10 miles, and finished about 30 min slower than anticipated.
In November I did Revenant Running's new race in Canon City, another sort of high dirt grounds. Two highlights: first climb of 3 miles straight up (I love serious climbing), and crossing Royal Gorge mid-way, pretty cool (Larry and I visited this highest bridge 3 years ago). I felt surprisingly strong, passed a bunch of folks by marathon mark, and then shortly after last AS tripped and ate it, big time. Split my knee open. I shook off the pain pretty fast, but the anger was high, and the trepidation for continuing on this most technical trail for the whole race made me walk to the finish. Another bad experience, though I truly love this company.
A week after that, I bit the bullet and dropped the distance for my December race from yet another 50k to a half-marathon. I am not a short distance runner at all, and surely not at this point of my life (and of the year), but I couldn't stomach the idea of making another 33 miles slog, plus it was getting into a winter weather. Same company as November's race, this one was local, on totally local trails I run weekly (and raced a couple of times). I nailed this race, despite 11 degrees at the start and some snow/ice covering of the downhill mile, and according to my Strava, got all kinds of PR's on various segments, whatever that means. Whoa, that's a cool end of the season!
Annie did her last race at Javelina Jundred. I did my thing - wrote her splits and took care of her at the 20 mile loop turn-over 4 times: food and heat management and talking-to, and she did her thing: ran my splits like they were God's orders. How we do this is bewildering even to me - especially at this race, it was sort of freaky, yet we do. While she ran the time I put her on, and was so tough mentally to perform at the end of her season on a course she is not good at - and that time in ay given year would have put her between # 3 to 5 - the field was most insane ever, and she got 9th. A downer for sure for this competitive girl. Sport is like that though, you can only control your own circumstances, not your competition or the weather. There was also a controversial sort of thing there that gave a touch of a sour taste (mostly due to race's mismanagement of it), and I have a whole lots of opinions about that, which no-one cares to hear.
Just before the JJ, she wrote an article about her year, and you can read it here.
A week after my birthday Larry and I had a great get-away at Copper mountain resort for a weekend, a much needed one. It was so weirdly and deliciously empty there. I took him hiking on a stretch of my beloved CT (from the resort to Searle pass), and it brough some memories back. We caught the end of the foliage, and even stopped by Red Rock amphitheater, finally, a Denver sort of attraction.
I continued my quest of climbing 14-ers, and made a dash for Columbia and Harvard back in October. Harvard was scaled first, after which I actually attempted the traverse, got 2/3 of it done, and then dropped down some gully that I wasn't sure was the correct route, so I got my ass back to the trailhead through Harvard. On the descend of this, weirdly enough, I walked into Annie, who was sort of looking for me, completely misunderstanding my whereabouts. Had I finished the traverse, though, we'd never found each other, so I guess this was Universe. A couple of weeks later I did Columbia the normal way, and was done with this project/quest for the year. I think I am at 26 peaks. All of them no worse than class 2 so far, which is what I plan to keep for a long time - so no "all-58" on my agenda.
Annie also showed up in Springs a week before Thanksgiving, and we did Incline together with some backside trails down. The Incline was my 12th of the year, and number 100 total. Sort of neat to celebrate the achievement not alone but with someone who shares the passion. As always, we had a lot of fun together, age difference and all.
Mid-November I took Lil (my new friend) to hike on CT portion near Yale - it was actually quite comical how for granted I take my ability of being on a trail, and how road running-biking she is (no disrespect, we both know where and who we are). It was just stunning of a difference, and I got a hint of understanding of an awe some people express of what I (and all the people I know) do. She asked a lot of questions I never even considered to think about, and didn't feel nearly as comfortable. We finished up with a soak at the Cottonwood Hot Springs, where Annie joined us. It was a good trip.
Larry and I made our way to Oklahoma for Thanksgiving, to see his family. It's been 3 years for me (and 2 for him). The visit was great, our usual trip to Tulsa one morning while there - amazing.
A week after that I made my, what appears to be, probably last Portland flight "by my own will". I stayed with Monika, another 2 year gap of seeing each other, and it was nice. I made rounds of some trails I ran on daily back then, homes I lived/owned, roads I drove, job place, my first massage school. I cried. I was saying goodbye. The last day it was a freezing rain sort of thing, and I don't miss this part of living in PNW one bit. I do miss the 5 years of the life of not knowing what kind of trials the near future would bring me just around the corner, the high profile happy running on soft trails surrounded by huge fir trees, my kids still being little/young enough and nearly innocent, and friendships I thought would last forever. Nothing is forever. This one is for sure.
We opened our ski season, little delayed due to snow holding off showing up on the mountains. Before we went, we swore it's our last year of buying a season pass, yet after 2 weekends (Monarch and Cooper) we're already reconsidering. It surely is a great break from running, and a different thing to occupy the mind. It means being outside, in the mountains, in the winter, and viewing things around in such a different way, at a different pace.
.jpg)
I really got back into knitting lately. Not just churning the needles for little gift projects, but creative knitting I am so proud of. This has been fun. I've been reading a lot, in bouts, and that hasn't changed.
In mid-September my friend Ronda hooked me up on "Hard 75" challenge, which wasn't hard at all (besides learning to drink more water), but it shook me off from the summer's drag of not paying attention to my post-failed-CT depression and mindless eating, and I dropped 8 pounds of fat. I continue living this "hard challenge" still.
Somehow I am nearing 3,700 miles (which I will likely actually exceed by the end of the year), and this is THE highest number of miles I have ever made in a year. It's about 600 more than the last 2 years I was proud of, after the 7 years hiatus, and even couple hundreds higher than my ever-biggest year during my hey-days. To put in perspective, it's about 100 miles less than Annie, more than half my age and a very gifted and competitive runner, ran this year, with all her long racing and over-100 mile training weeks. I didn't plan for this, nor have any intention/purpose/desire to keep it going. But still, to think about it, wow. Somehow, during all this, my body held on - no injuries or fatigue developed (knock on wood). I am so deeply grateful to Universe to allow me this year's gift.
I definitely "ate" too much of ultrarunning this year. Too much racing for myself, and participating in Annie's (and Lindsey's) lives. The sport has changed, and I, obviously, can't control or affect it. I simply don't like it. There are still races out there that are old-school grass-roots (Revenant Running is one example, so are GNAR events). But the direction the sport has gone, the "Ironman-ing" of it, commercialization, professional athletes, social media, etc...turn me off. Having seen it "from inside of professional" (thanks to Annie) makes me appreciate the years I was in it at my best. Speaking of Annie, she was able to demand and "build in" my travel expenses into her renewed Hoka contract, so I wouldn't have to pay my own way to support her at the races, as I did this past year. It also makes me feel a tiny bit weirdly "obligated" to be there, instead of doing it for sheer love. I like helping and seeing her grow, and we do seem to work miraculously well together. It brought me into a full circle back into a sport that was such an intensely grandiose part of my life before. It excites me (although sometimes too much for my age and head-space). I guess I'll see where next year will lead us in our relationship. I hope we continue thriving around each other in more ways than race results for Annie. The financial part is surely helpful, as this being my first year of true-on part-time work (that already have been paid pennies) I made the lowest income ever, including the first year I moved across the pond to USA 30 years ago.
It's gotten cold here, and while we still make it to the trails from time to time, mostly I am hitting the roads. Darkness and bitter chill are getting more difficult to navigate with age. On especially crazy negative-degrees mornings I even venture to the Treadmill. At least I am not losing the zest to run.
I have my own goals, of course. I don't wish to share them though. They are fluid. Ha, a favorite new-world word in use. I am going to be fluid with my goals. My main agenda is to continue staying healthy and fit and taking care of what's important. Working truly part-time this year made a lot of it possible, reigniting my drive to be exactly that - fit and healthy. Not to be the best runner version of myself (for God's sake, I am 53 yo menopausal woman with a 7 year gap in training and totally changed world in the sport of my choosing, as well as totally changed view of how I approach what's important and defines me). No any set times for any set races ahead. Simply to be well-rounded, healthy, and fit. I run, more days than not twice a day. I lift weights - a lot. Do yoga. Eat vegetables - a lot. Participate in other activities. Stay on top of my friendships. Knit - a lot. Read good books. Do NOT watch the dumb news or partake in "social media discussions" (in fact, I rarely open computer anymore or turn on TV, and that was a game changer). I have my own opinions on shit that I don't need to be influenced about. I spend plenty of quality time with my honey.
On that note, unless something drastic happens that requires making some public post for it to be accounted, I am bidding au revoir to my tiny audience. So long, thanks for reading so far. I have so much to say, but care less to share. Life needs to be lived.
.jpg)
Amendment. I cursed and jinxed myself. We went skiing at Monarch, and while it was seriously cold (12F) and a day after a huge wind there that bared a lot of slopes, it was a normal day "at the office"... until the very last run. The slopes were either icy and semi-bare, or deep-snow-uncut-ungroomed sort of thing. Which is fine.
We're an intermediate level skiers (a bit of advanced, going down majority of black diamonds with moguls, maybe not in a pretty professional way). We took the very last run, called "blue", but the drop off was black with that snow with few people randomly skied in and trying to create bumps. And on the very second turn on that loose stuff my left ski hit something, torqued inward and down into the boot/ground, I screamed as I hear something pop quite seemingly loudly, fell over my head, and finally stopped on my ass. Unfortunately, the ski didn't dislodge. The knee pain was there. Larry skied down to me (he hasn't seen the happening over the steep slope, but heard the scream). I told him to stay away to figure out how bad it was. It wasn't broken. I lifted myself up on the poles, but couldn't put any weight on my left leg, at all. And when it'd buckle, it'd make a snap. But, I was only 1/3 way down the worst part of this slope - and only 10% down the mountain itself. It took forever and a day to slide sideways on the right ski and poles, and every time even slightest weight got on the left knee, I'd feel the snap and gasp in pain and fear. Now, meniscus or MCL? Eventually, Larry couldn't handle watching me do it, anymore. After asking a dozen of time if I am willing to get help, he just left for it. I got down the worst part of the slope, hoping once I am on a sort of straight-away, I'd re-assess. No go. At that time, the medics arrived. I argued for a few minutes, but knowing that while the very last 1/3 is not a bad slope, yet very icy, I would do more damage than already have, I agreed to a toboggan ride. I just had to assure to the kids that no, it's not broken, no, I don't need a splint, no, I am not laying down. But by the end of the ride and trying to get to the car, I knew it's bad.
No comments:
Post a Comment