Good times bad times...

Question: If you're set to do a 6 mile run, but instead of running straight 6, you run 2m, then take a 30 minute break, then run 4.5m, does that count as a 6 mile run?

My vote is YES.

During the course of Sunday's long run (6 miles, you guessed it), SoxFan and I had a little conversation after the first 2 miles. The first 2 miles had gone pretty well, and I feel confident that I could have run 6 miles pretty well. But, our conversation ended up taking about 30 minutes, making me feel needlessly (?) guilty and slacker-like. We ended up doing the last 4.5 miles after the sun was WAY too high in the sky, so rather than being a delightful early morning jaunt down the Silence of the Lambs trail, the run turned into the oven-temperature death slog through the holy-hills batman and did you see the size of that bee?

I was tempted to go through another tedious self-loathing session afterward, but I was exhausted, dude, so I just threw in the towel. I mean, I got the run done, right? I even did an extra half mile as penance for my resting ways. And I did extra stretching when I got home. I'm hoping it all evens out in the end.

Monday called for "Stretch and Strengthen", and that's just what I did. We bought an exercise ball and a few free weights and even some resistance bands over the weekend, so I made great use of those last night. I did ball crunches (oh, that sounds funny).... and pelvic thrusts (hahaha)... and I did some seated row with the resistance bands and a few push-ups and even some curls. Oh yeah.... I'm going to have some huge ripped guns after about 8 billion reps with my 8lb weights. To cover the "Stretch" part of Monday's routine, I rolled a few times on the foam roller, basically until my IT bands started audibly threatening my life, at which point I retreated to the sofa.

And then there was today.

As I started today's run, I was thinking about the Facebook. (I was also thinking about how frigid it was outside, but mostly I was thinking about the Facebook.) It's truly the best and the worst of everything, isn't it? It's how you keep in touch with old friends, and it's how you stay in "the know" about your friends' (and your frienemies') love lives, and it's how you win at Scrabble (hey, I won't tell anyone you use that website to cheat, dude!). But sometimes, you end up running into ghosts there. And that's just what's happened to me recently. Innocently enough, I sign on... I need to check who's dating who... and who's changed their profile picture, etc.... And then, there's a blast from the past staring me in the face. This time, it was an especially friendly ghost (or so I hope, at least), and I took a chance and started a conversation.

This was all on my mind as I began tonight's run. So maybe that is why tonight's run came off without a hitch. I was really thinking hard about my old friend, and how and why we'd grown apart. I was trying to figure out how I felt about initiating a conversation and perhaps even a renewed friendship.

So when my Garmin beeped and beckoned me out of my introspection, and I noticed the little pace notice flashing at me, you can imagine my surprise to find that I was running the fastest splits I'd ever run on the Silence of the Lambs trail. Even on the uphill stretch, even on the last mile of the 4 mile run, I was getting faster! Don't believe me? Here are the official splits.

I know that seems glacial to most of you... but for me, it's pretty flipping fantastic. It was a great run. And it came at just the right time, too. After Sunday's debacle, I desperately needed a running pick-me-up.

Run from the lightning!

For the novice trail runner, it would behoove you to steer clear of open meadow runs (I realize that sounds like a scene from The Sound of Music) when dark booming clouds are looming in the distance. Being, myself, a novice trail runner, no one alerted me to such common sense lessons. So, last Thursday, as SoxFan and I headed out for a comfortable 3.5 mile run in Elk Meadow Park, our only thought of the clouds was "wow, isn't that pretty?"

Elk Meadow Park is in Evergreen, a town about 20 minutes away. We chose to drive all the way to Evergreen because we have yet to find a reasonable place in our own town of Conifer to run. That, and Evergreen is a bit lower in elevation, taking us all the way down to a meager 7500ft. We chose a trail that we'd spotted from the road, and we thought it looked "not too bad". It seemed to follow alongside the road through a "rolling meadow" with scenic mountain views to the west and peaceful CO-73 on the right... Or at least that's how it was advertised through Jefferson County Open Space.

So, we took off from the trailhead, carefully dodging large rocks and logs and other obstacles determined to break my ankles, and things were going quite well until we met our first hill. Hills and I. We're just not the best of friends yet. I huffed and puffed to the top and finally surrendered to the inevitable- I stopped and bent halfway over to catch my breath. Why I do this is completely beyond me. Do I somehow breathe easier when bent double? Are my lungs operating at higher capacity only when my head is between my knees? Your guess is as good as mine.

We pushed forward, and it seemed like things got a little easier. At the turnaround point, those clouds were looking much more ominous. And only about a half mile into the second half, the bottom fell out of it completely. Huge rain and lightning in every direction, and here we are, running through a wide open field. Smart. I know.

The benefit of running, literally, for your life, is that you can produce some pretty fantastic splits. I maintained 11 minute miles for over a mile, folks. I do not lie. And now I know the difference between running and jogging (at least for me). Running for your life gets you negative splits, jogging gets you positive splits.

So, given my recent dreadmill-only runs, perhaps an explanation of why-the-heck I was out there at all is due. Well, I've signed up for the Denver Half Marathon, folks. And it's coming up on October 19th and I will not, repeat WILL NOT, do all of my training runs on the dreadmill. It's simply too much more fun (and life-threatening) to run outside.

So, I've chosen an actual "Training Plan", hereafter known as the TP, and so far I've done all of 2 training runs. The aforementioned near-death experience and the "Long Run" on Sunday at the High Line Canal in Denver (a mere 5280ft, pft!). Now I didn't break any speed records on Sunday's run, but it was a success nonetheless. SoxFan, Ini and I did 5 miles faster than I did in NYC just a month or so ago.

Unfortunately, I donated blood yesterday (YAY!) and I could barely eek out 2 miles on the dreadmill this evening. To say it was pathetic wouldn't quite do it justice. Tomorrow I'm on for 3.5 miles. Looks like I'll need extra luck to make up for the lack of red blood cells.

I'll huff and I'll puff....

OK. In case there is any confusion whatsoever.... Trail running at 8000 ft = not for sissies.

We took Ini the dogbeast to the doggie park up in Evergreen this morning, because we'd heard it was a great dog park with a trail that ran the circumference of the park. I thought it would be a great place to make my trail running debut. However, when the gentleman told us about said dog park with the "great running trail," he neglected to mention that the park is situated on the side of a mountain. I don't mean a gentle rolling trail. I mean the park climbs at 45 degrees at times. I couldn't even walk around this park without getting winded. Ini had a great time, though.

So, I tucked my little trail running tail and got back in the truck. We decided to try a trail at a park that is closer to where we live. I thought (i.e. rationalized, licked my wounds) that would be a better idea anyway because it's close to the house and therefore it will likely become a route that I frequent. Also, I'd seen this route from the road, and I was quickly impressed by the lack of 45 degree slopes.

All the way there, I was terrified. I felt like I'd left my "Trail running for dummies" book at home. I was intimidated on the way there. I'd seen Trail Runners before, after all, and they're always these totally hard-core, completely fit, uber-athletes, and I felt like I had no business crowding up their trails with my slow shuffle/jog/run. It didn't help matters that I'm accustomed to shuffling/jogging/running at 5280ft, and the run I was about to attempt started at 8000 ft. OK, so it only climbed about 80ft total, but even still....

So, we started out walking, just like I normally do down in town. I figured I had enough new variables thrown into the mix. After about 7 minutes of walking, we broke into a slow (read: uphill) run. The trail wasn't crowded, but we did meet a few folks along the way. And I was amazed to find that they were looking at us with the same awe and amazement that I typically reserve for runners I meet along hiking trails. It was crazy! I had these folks fooled into thinking that I knew what I was doing out there! They thought I was hard-core! Insane!

Before we started we'd agreed upon a turn-around point, so when we got there, we took a break to check the map. I was feeling pretty good (because we'd just settled into a comfortable [read: downhill] pace). Due to my abundance of downhill-gained optimism, we decided to push a little further down the trail. A little further quickly became a little steeper, which became a little slower, which became not so much running anymore. So we walked a bit to let my aching lungs recover, but I ended the day strong by running most of a mile to get back to the truck.

All told, we covered 2.5m, and I ran 1.75m. Not too shabby for my first trail running experience 3000ft higher than I'm used to in the middle of a 90 degree day. My pace was all over the place, but I am blaming it on spotty GPS signals. I know I'm slow, but I just don't believe some of the data I got from the good ol' Garmin today. And even though it put a dent in my recent "swift" pace, and even though I was humbled (but not demoralized) by the terrain, I think I will come to enjoy trail running as much as I enjoy road running. You truly can't beat the scenery, and there's always the added benefit of the potential adrenaline rush that comes from a mountain lion encounter.

After the run, I got to thinking about it... If gaining 3000 ft of elevation can make this big of an impact on my running, how much of an impact will losing 5000 ft be? Could I actually have a comfortable 4-5 mile run at sea-level? That's right, folks. I've decided to just go for it for the 5m race in Central Park on Saturday. I'll probably have to walk some, but I don't care. It'll still be fun and active and it'll make me feel good to do it.