Yesterday I went for a trail run. My first real trail run. My first real trail run in real mountains. But let me back up for a second. I have been doing a fair amount of running lately. Since moving to Boulder, I run 3-4 times a week. I run a hybrid of road and trails and they have little hills here and there, but nothing, not even close to what I ran the other day. Elevation is one of those things that you don't really understand till you're in it. You can understand the concepts and principals, but you don't really understand till you are in it and you feel it. Everyone can tell you that you will loose your breath and just walking up a hill will feel impossible. They can tell you that every step you take up makes you wish you could turn around and run back. They can tell you it will hurt everything in you because your body is working triple time. They can tell you whatever they want, it doesn't mean a damn thing till you are in it. Till you are feeling it in your lungs. But let me stop blathering on and tell you the story of my real trail run.
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| Lumpy Ridge, where we were heading to run |
We are going uphill. My head is down and I am already breathing heavy. My internal voice starts up, 'Already Emma? Really? You have barely even started running. You can't breathe, oh that must be rough. Suck it up you wuss.' Meanwhile my Blerch is yelling things like, 'Cake! Turn around, the car is right back there! You could have that packet of hazelnut almond butter. Who needs to run? You won't even make it 8ft let alone 8 miles. Let's go get some cake instead of doing this stupid run.' I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can run up 1500ft in ~4 miles. My body sure doesn't want to. I can barely breathe and we aren't even a mile in. I don't want to quit, but I have never felt like this before.
We keep going. Jean says, one foot in front of the other; go slow, baby steps; you can do it. Jean is the greatest cheer leader. She knows that what I am doing isn't great, but she keeps making me feel better as we move across the dirt and rocks. It's all uphill... until it isn't and we are running down a hill under a crazy hot sun into a valley. I have to stop, just for a second to take a picture of this. On all sides of me there are beautiful, exquisite views. I have never seen anything like this ever before. For a brief few moments, I forget about not being able to breathe. The sun is shining down on us. I am watching storms gather around Longs Peak and Meeker Mountain. There is a valley to the left of me that spans all the way to a forest, a sea of deep green going all the way to those beautiful mountain peaks. To the right are the Twin Owl Peaks. The Twin Owls makes me think of my best friend Jamie and I wish she was here to enjoy/endure this crazy intense trail with me.
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| The field to my left and the mountains in the distance |
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| Longs Peak, covered in clouds. |
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| The Twin Owls (as seen while we were driving in, they were much bigger when we were on the trail) |
It's hot and I am sweating. Sweat soaking my shirt and running down my arms. I can barely breathe. But I am not melting. It is not that kind of hot. I am falling apart. I don't have enough water. I feel like I am burning up like in one of those cheesy cartoon movies, suddenly turning into ash. I am drying up like the crackled broken clay ground we are running on. Jean turns back around, "You good?" I don't know who I am kidding. I am falling apart and feel terrible. The Blerch is still with me. 'Turn back now and you can have nutella for dinner!' Everything hurts and my lungs are so sore. And we are still only in the beginning half. I look down at the ground. "Yeah, I'm good," I reply. And we keep moving on.
The valley is ending. On one hand I am happy to be out of the sun and into the trees. It is so hot and I am just not used to running in the sun. I almost always run in the evenings now. I look down at my water bottle. I am down to less than half left. So thank God for the shade. But this also means it is time to head up. Like really up. I am trying to put one foot in front of another. Just keep moving forward. It is so steep. I have never run on a trail like this. I know it will keep going up forever. I can barely even walk up this hill. Each step takes my breath away. This isn't even the hard stuff. This is 8000 ft. That's barely 2K more than where we are in Boulder. And yet, I can't breathe. I feel pathetic for struggling so much.
There is nothing more uncomfortable than being unable to breathe. Knowing that each step up is costing you oxygen and that you have ration your water. Nothing comes close to that feeling. You can't replicate it in a gym. You can't push yourself as hard at sea level. It's just completely different. Once you are at elevation and have to push up, you experience a new kind of struggle. And you only have two choices, keep going or turn back. You don't turn back unless you have altitude sickness. So I keep going. But it's slow. I am starting to accept the slowness and stop beating myself up for it. I am telling myself (out loud) that it's okay to struggle, this is pretty hard. I tell myself I am doing a good job. I tell myself to keep going.
I see Jean coming back for me, "How are you feeling?" She makes this look so easy. I am so inspired by her. But I still can't breathe. I'm amazed I'm even standing up. “I hurt,” I respond. I don't feel good. My ankle feels like hell. My hip flexors feel swollen and offset. The SI Joint in my back is screaming at me. My abs are shaking from holding my body up on the uphills. And I'm Exhausted. I finally finish my statement, “My legs hurt, my lungs hurt, my heart hurts, my back hurts. Everything hurts.” She smiles at me and tells me I am doing great. I know she is lying, but I take the encouragement anyway. "Come on, up the trail just a little further is the sign, come on." She trots off up the trail. I start to run again for a minute and then fall back to a quick walk. I do my best, and try again to jog. Each step forward feels like my lungs get tighter and tighter. Then the trail dead ends and Jean is standing next to a sign.
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| so So SO happy to turn back around now |
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| If we kept going down this trail, we'd be headed toward an alpine lake (about 5 more miles away) |
An example of brain-wandering mental chatter: Why is everything in life like this? So damn hard at first, and then easy in the second half. Light years difference from where you started and how you feel at the half way point. Jobs are like this, moving to a new city, new living situations are like this, running is like this, climbing is like this, reading books is like this, cooking/eating is like this, everything! The only time this is flip flopped is in relationships. When you are dating someone, it's so easy at first. Everything is fun and simple. Then get a bit of time in and suddenly everything is serious and hard and challenging. It would be so much easier if it were like everything else and was the other way around. But alas that is life and sometimes getting through the harder things makes it worth it in the end.
We are almost clear of the trees and back down to the valley. Our quads just took an epic beating as we ran down the hill, but we have smiles on our faces as we come back into the sunshine. Don't get me wrong, it is still hot, I still am in tons of pain, and we still have a ways to go, but I am in better spirits now. I always enjoy the downhill, not for the obvious reasons, but because I love the free-falling feeling I get. Other than sky diving, it's the closest I feel like I will ever get to flying. Watching someone else run downhill also is quite the fun experience. We all imagine we look so good when we are running, but the downhill looks goofy on just about everyone. Arms flopping everywhere, holding yourself just barely back from falling on your face. As we skidded and trotted downward, I imagined how silly I probably looked, my arms bobbing up and down, and start giggling.
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| Longs Peak through the forest |
We clear the trees and again were in the valley. I know we are still a couple of miles away from the trail head and our car, but being done with that never ending hill felt like we are so much closer than before. I am still fairly tired and my body is taking the beating of a lifetime. Jean and I go back on forth on which knee hurt more from the pounding it took on that downhill and the other parts of our bodies that are aching. It's like comparing battle scars; battle scars that we are happy about. We are back in the beautiful valley again. I am blown away at how beautiful it is here. Words and pictures really can't do it justice. There is nothing quite like living and running here. Every day I wake up and amazed at the amazing sights I get to see. We stop for a minute to take some more pictures (and catch my breath).
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| Trail running smiles |
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| Selfie / photo bomb with my awesome roommate |
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| Epic views |
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| Beautiful mountains, and some awesome-looking crack climbing |
Then before I know it, it is happening. I am dragging myself up the last set of stairs and then running down the hill to the parking lot. Jean is yelling that I did great and gives me a big hug as I come up beside her. "Let's stretch" she says and for 10 minutes, we twist, push, and pull our muscles, ligaments, and tendons. We try to convince our bodies not to be too sore tomorrow. After a successful stretch, we head over to the car where Jean decides we aren't done yet. 10 push-ups, 10 squats, and one minute planks each, because our trail run wasn't enough. My brain is deliriously happy to not be running, so I just follow whatever she tells me to do. And then like that, we are done.
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| Happy girls post trail running |
Running is one of those things, no matter how hard the run is, if I am outside and nature is around me, I am happy. But I will say that it's the hard parts that make it fun and worth it (for everything in life). There will always be hard parts. There will always be runs that humble you and bring you back to who you are. There will always be new challenges, each time you feel like you master something else. That's what keeps it fun. Embrace that hurt, that challenge, and the process of being humbled and you might enjoy the experience even more.
Happy trails folks. :)
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| Mountains in the rear view |
Awesome pictures!
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