Cowboy Hazel

I'm sitting here, sipping some coffee with whiskey and trying to warm up from the final run in what has been an amazingly good week. At 61.4 miles, it wasn't a particularly high volume week, and the 8:03 overall average pace certainly is nothing to write home about. So why so I say it was so good? I'll let the runs speak for themselves...

Monday: Off.

Tuesday: Rollinsville, Colorado – 10.56 miles – The Moffat Road that stretches between Rollinsville and Tolland is my favorite running route in the world. The run starts at 8,474 feet of elevation and climbs to 8,920 at the turnaround point. I was fighting a brutal headwind on the way out and started worrying that I might not have the right stuff to finish a race as ambitious as the Leadville Trail Marathon this year. But I put my head down and fought through. After the turnaround, I was generously rewarded for my efforts. Coming back downhill with the wind at my back, I threw a string of sub-7:00 miles together and felt like king of the mountain. I thought back to 2001 where I ran my first ever double digit mileage run on this same stretch of road. And I thought of 1928 when my grandmother rode through the same valley on one of the first trains to pass through the Moffat Tunnel. I smiled thinking that it probably looked almost the same then as it did today.

Wednesday: Brighton, Colorado – 9.34 miles – My mom drove me out to Barr Lake where I met up with my buddy Hans and we started running in the brutal cold. Being back on the plains, the elevation was a relatively easy 5,100 feet, and there were fresh tire tracks around the whole lake, so we were able to run much faster than on Sunday. Hans made fun of my black eye and then our conversation drifted to such intellectually stimulating questions as "What superpowers would a child of Jason Giambi and Shania Twain possess?" and "Who would win in a fight, Chuck Norris or Jesus?" About 7 miles into the run, we heard someone urgently yelling at us to get off the dam. Then gunfire. We had unknowingly wandered into geese hunting territory on the wrong day of the week. We quickly doubled back to the beginning of the dam, then ran along the base of it back to the cars, amid the continual fire of shotguns coming from camouflaged hunting huts. It seemed like something out of a James Bond video game.

Thursday: Sleepy Hollow, New York – 8.89 miles – A couple of Helen's friends had access to a work van and were nice enough to drive us up to Rockefeller State Park in the midst of a snowstorm. The Rockies were as good as Joe described them. We saw a deer, a coyote, and a whole flock of wild turkeys. The fresh snow made everything seem so clean and peaceful. If I were to sum up the run in a single word, it would simply be beautiful. An excellent way to end the year.

Friday: Brooklyn, New York – 12.87 miles – I already documented the first runs of the new year in my last post, so I won't repeat myself here.

Saturday: New York, New York – 7.23 miles – Back in East Harlem, I took Helen out for a run over the Triboro Bridge. It was our first run over "my" bridge together and it was great being able to see the familiar sights through a fresh pair of eyes. The pedestrian bridge to Ward's Island was still closed, so we went over the Manhattan part of the Triboro in addition to the Queens part, and got to see some more James Bondish scenery. Parts felt like we were running through one of those Russian missile silos you always see in the movies. The wind was intense and we had to battle Mother Nature to get back home, but it made the run feel epic.

Today: New York, New York – 12.52 miles – I cut across Harlem to the west side then began working my way uptown towards the George Washington Bridge. The hills, cold, and wind were intense, but I was smiling the whole way. The non-running pedestrians I came across looked at me like I was some sort of freak, but the few runners that I came in contact with all smiled and returned waves. When I got out onto the bridge, I realized that the wind was just too much. I saw a bicyclist in front of me almost get knocked of his bike while I myself was struggling just to stand up, and decided to call the retreat. I cut across the Heights and ran to the tower I always see on the Wednesday hill runs. From there, I ran down to 155th Street and over to the Bronx, past the new and old Yankee Stadiums and thought of all the history there. A little further on, running under a bridge by the Bronx Recycling Center amidst rundown warehouses, graffiti-covered bricks walls, and barbed wire, I almost laughed at the contrast between here and where I started my week.

But, as fun as it has been, I realize that this week has been lacking in the way of serious workouts. There was no long run and no short speedwork. Considering that I have a marathon 7 weeks from today and a couple 1 mile races up at the Armory even sooner, I really need to get my butt into gear.