It's winter and Fat Ass season has officially arrived!
As a Southerner who doesn't ski or snowboard, I spent a lot of time hating winter in Colorado. It's so long...Georgia winters last about three and a half months, from December to March, and while they are gloomy, cold and miserable, they're gone in a flash. Colorado winters can last from October to May, or longer and are riddled with snow, sub zero temps and shitty drivers. Needless to say, it took me a while to get used to them. In fact, it wasn't until I started getting serious about running that winter became bearable and now I even look forward to it (for the running at least).
There isn't much better than a spritely jaunt through fresh ankle deep snow on blissfully empty trails while fluffy flurries swirl around you. With the right gear and Dog Face in tow, I'd choose to run in a snow storm any day. But, even though it's November, we're not quite there yet....
This weekend's Monster Marathon, the first Human Potential Running Fat Ass of the season, enjoyed a brisk morning start under blue bird skies, but temps quickly rose to the fifties and runners were able to shed their layers for the majority of the run.
I had originally planned to drive out to Moab on Friday for the Moab Trail Marathon, but when I started to come down with a cold a few days out, I decided to forgo the trek to Utah and take on the Monster Marathon instead. As a brand new Human Potential Running Series (HPRS) ambassador, I was eager to get out on the trails with some of my fellow HPRS runners, especially Jenn Coker, who had become my very good Facebook friend, and Sherpa John, the head honcho at HPRS who I'd heard so much about from other runners and via social media.
[Side bar: Isn't it strange how you can have actual friends maintained solely through social media outlets, some of whom you may only have met once or twice.]
Even though I only put in 15 miles on Saturday, a disappointment since I was supposed to be running a gnarly marathon in Moab that day, I had the best time exploring the trails around Red Rocks and Green Mountain! And, can you believe it, nothing else went wrong... I was beginning to feel jinxed when I got sick, started my period, and my bad foot started bothering me all in the days before race weekend.
Murphy's Law was staring me in the face, but it didn't get the better of the day. It was the perfect temperature to wear my favorite running tights (Dream print Skirt Sports Go the Distance tights), which are fabulously dark colored, the foot-freezing chill in the morning air numbed my foot until the endorphins could kick in, and my cold laid mostly dormant until about mile 11, when my lungs decided they'd had just about enough climbing for the day.
I turned around to head back to the Stegosaurus lot after beating some mountain bikers up a pretty grizzly set of switch backs (how satisfying!) and realizing that every trail at the intersection was the Rooney Valley Trail. Crap! I'd missed a turn and lost momentum. With my lungs grumbling and a huge reroute in my future, I threw in the towel.
Despite not making it through the full beastly Monster Marathon, I felt incredibly satisfied with the day. I explored new trails, managed not to fall (except for that one little flailing trip on the stairs, stupid stairs), and got to run with some new inspiring friends who I'd formerly only really known through Facebook.
As I sit here not running (because I decided I should try to not get more sick), I'm pondering my 2016 race season and, while I know I'll do a 50 miler this year (at least one), there is a tiny spark somewhere in my mind telling me maybe a 100 miler isn't impossible, maybe it isn't the most horrid idea that has ever occurred to me.
I remember laying in the grass after my first marathon, with every inch of my body hurting, swearing to myself that I would never, ever do that again. How things change...
As a Southerner who doesn't ski or snowboard, I spent a lot of time hating winter in Colorado. It's so long...Georgia winters last about three and a half months, from December to March, and while they are gloomy, cold and miserable, they're gone in a flash. Colorado winters can last from October to May, or longer and are riddled with snow, sub zero temps and shitty drivers. Needless to say, it took me a while to get used to them. In fact, it wasn't until I started getting serious about running that winter became bearable and now I even look forward to it (for the running at least).
There isn't much better than a spritely jaunt through fresh ankle deep snow on blissfully empty trails while fluffy flurries swirl around you. With the right gear and Dog Face in tow, I'd choose to run in a snow storm any day. But, even though it's November, we're not quite there yet....
This weekend's Monster Marathon, the first Human Potential Running Fat Ass of the season, enjoyed a brisk morning start under blue bird skies, but temps quickly rose to the fifties and runners were able to shed their layers for the majority of the run.
I had originally planned to drive out to Moab on Friday for the Moab Trail Marathon, but when I started to come down with a cold a few days out, I decided to forgo the trek to Utah and take on the Monster Marathon instead. As a brand new Human Potential Running Series (HPRS) ambassador, I was eager to get out on the trails with some of my fellow HPRS runners, especially Jenn Coker, who had become my very good Facebook friend, and Sherpa John, the head honcho at HPRS who I'd heard so much about from other runners and via social media.
[Side bar: Isn't it strange how you can have actual friends maintained solely through social media outlets, some of whom you may only have met once or twice.]
Even though I only put in 15 miles on Saturday, a disappointment since I was supposed to be running a gnarly marathon in Moab that day, I had the best time exploring the trails around Red Rocks and Green Mountain! And, can you believe it, nothing else went wrong... I was beginning to feel jinxed when I got sick, started my period, and my bad foot started bothering me all in the days before race weekend.
Murphy's Law was staring me in the face, but it didn't get the better of the day. It was the perfect temperature to wear my favorite running tights (Dream print Skirt Sports Go the Distance tights), which are fabulously dark colored, the foot-freezing chill in the morning air numbed my foot until the endorphins could kick in, and my cold laid mostly dormant until about mile 11, when my lungs decided they'd had just about enough climbing for the day.
I turned around to head back to the Stegosaurus lot after beating some mountain bikers up a pretty grizzly set of switch backs (how satisfying!) and realizing that every trail at the intersection was the Rooney Valley Trail. Crap! I'd missed a turn and lost momentum. With my lungs grumbling and a huge reroute in my future, I threw in the towel.
Despite not making it through the full beastly Monster Marathon, I felt incredibly satisfied with the day. I explored new trails, managed not to fall (except for that one little flailing trip on the stairs, stupid stairs), and got to run with some new inspiring friends who I'd formerly only really known through Facebook.
As I sit here not running (because I decided I should try to not get more sick), I'm pondering my 2016 race season and, while I know I'll do a 50 miler this year (at least one), there is a tiny spark somewhere in my mind telling me maybe a 100 miler isn't impossible, maybe it isn't the most horrid idea that has ever occurred to me.
I remember laying in the grass after my first marathon, with every inch of my body hurting, swearing to myself that I would never, ever do that again. How things change...