So........ all's OK. Not great, not terrible. But all-in-all, it's all too busy and too much. Lots of work and related travel, a bit of fun travel, running and biking, etc. Due to a whole crapload of obligations, I simply have made no time over the last couple months for this creative outlet. I hope before the end of September I will be back in action.
In the meantime, apologies for the hiatus. Hope all's well with everyone.
Dave
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
On the eve of our MS-150 (or 173) Ride
Hey all--so the wife and I are getting ready for our big weekend with the Left Hand Brewing Team riding in the MS-150 (or the MS-173 with the Century Option on Sunday. Please keep all the folks out there suffering from MS in your thoughts this weekend and in the future. I'll have some semblance of an account up about the ride by next week. Cheers!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Joe Colton 10-miler - RACE REPORT
Howdy peoples! What's happenin'? I realized last week that I overlooked my latest race report from the Joe Colton's Off Road Adventure Run on Saturday, June 14. It was really more to be a state-of-my-legs run as opposed to a race as I was only a week removed from my first 50-K'er. Plus, the current program that I'm participating in through Fast Forward Sports is a summer trails and racing program. Joe Colton was on their suggestion list. It's a nicely different twist than building up to one specific race a few weeks or months down the road. It rocks actually. I feel as if I'm finally building up to some more speed-on-the-trails work rather than the golden target a few months down the road or longer and longer distances (though I'm trying to build on that as well).
Anyway, the Joe Colton race is one I've done 2 years-in-a-row now. It's superb and the epitome of a Colorado community coming together. It takes place in Rollinsville, CO every Father's Day Weekend. Joe Colton was a young Rollinsville boy who passed away at the age of 6 from the flu back in 2001. As tragic as that story is, the community has pulled together and amongst other things, they do this race every year to keep a positive memory alive and give back to all involved. As usual, the race is superbly organized, holding a 5K, a 10K, a 10-miler, and a 15-miler, all starting at the same time. And to keep the families involved and going, there is a 1-mile family fun run that starts about 2 hours after the main races. It's always great seeing familes and friends, new and old, conversing and interacting before, during, and after. So, instead of going into the self-indulgent details of my race, I will simply summarize by saying, I ran the 10-miler almost 6 minutes faster than last year, I enjoyed myself immensely, and every mile or so, I thought about a young boy I never knew, Joe Colton.
Having spent his 6 years of life in a place as beautiful as Colorado is amazing enough. Having got to relax and live in Rollinsville and have the spectacular views and access to trails and outdoors as they do up there...... wow. While the premature ending to his life was undoubtedly sad, shocking, terrible, etc., the way the community has come out to not let his memory fade is wonderful. Way to go Rollinsville! And thanks to the memory of Joe Colton for starting such positive events around his beloved hometown.
Anyway, the Joe Colton race is one I've done 2 years-in-a-row now. It's superb and the epitome of a Colorado community coming together. It takes place in Rollinsville, CO every Father's Day Weekend. Joe Colton was a young Rollinsville boy who passed away at the age of 6 from the flu back in 2001. As tragic as that story is, the community has pulled together and amongst other things, they do this race every year to keep a positive memory alive and give back to all involved. As usual, the race is superbly organized, holding a 5K, a 10K, a 10-miler, and a 15-miler, all starting at the same time. And to keep the families involved and going, there is a 1-mile family fun run that starts about 2 hours after the main races. It's always great seeing familes and friends, new and old, conversing and interacting before, during, and after. So, instead of going into the self-indulgent details of my race, I will simply summarize by saying, I ran the 10-miler almost 6 minutes faster than last year, I enjoyed myself immensely, and every mile or so, I thought about a young boy I never knew, Joe Colton.
Having spent his 6 years of life in a place as beautiful as Colorado is amazing enough. Having got to relax and live in Rollinsville and have the spectacular views and access to trails and outdoors as they do up there...... wow. While the premature ending to his life was undoubtedly sad, shocking, terrible, etc., the way the community has come out to not let his memory fade is wonderful. Way to go Rollinsville! And thanks to the memory of Joe Colton for starting such positive events around his beloved hometown.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Realization, Part 1
As I looked back upon my entries for the last few months (OK, most of this year), I had a realization. Most of my posts are about some outdoorsy-type fun (mainly runs or races)...... which means I'm severely limiting my potential readers (not to mention the attention spans of those I love and want to also keep in contact with). Brilliant conclusion, eh? But then I realized, it hasn't been writer's block (like earlier in my stellar blogging career), so much as time? No. Money? Definitely not. Work? Well, that always gets in the way.
Anyway, the realization of diversity hit me. And not just in concept or symbolism. In one's life. And not what the current moral/political/media-driven/societal norms environment says. In one's life. Your own life. Independant, thought-driven practice. Imagine that. It seems to me that while catching headlines of the latest celebrity scandal or star-gone-mad that we are seriously drained as a world, a society, a community. Perhaps community would thrive again if we stopped paying any mind to the expected world drivel and moved on with our own train of thought?
OK, now I'm just rambling, but I wonder about me and about diversity. And how specific interests or thought-du-jour can drive our lives, unknowingly and definitely unwittingly. What else is out there? How does one discover? By adventure, by reading, by discussion, by travel. Life goes on and time ticks by, no matter our small-world distractions. Live! Life!! Feel!!!
Anyway, the realization of diversity hit me. And not just in concept or symbolism. In one's life. And not what the current moral/political/media-driven/societal norms environment says. In one's life. Your own life. Independant, thought-driven practice. Imagine that. It seems to me that while catching headlines of the latest celebrity scandal or star-gone-mad that we are seriously drained as a world, a society, a community. Perhaps community would thrive again if we stopped paying any mind to the expected world drivel and moved on with our own train of thought?
OK, now I'm just rambling, but I wonder about me and about diversity. And how specific interests or thought-du-jour can drive our lives, unknowingly and definitely unwittingly. What else is out there? How does one discover? By adventure, by reading, by discussion, by travel. Life goes on and time ticks by, no matter our small-world distractions. Live! Life!! Feel!!!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Sage Burner 50K - RACE REPORT
Might I caveat this entry by saying that this is more like a trip report/race report. They seem to be mutually exclusive here.
Saturday, June 7 marked the inaugural Sage Burner 25K and 50K in Gunnison, CO. Sponsored by Western State College, this was a smashing success from start to finish (at least in my legs and feet and back).... but I digress. It also happened to be my first 50K attempt. I drove down Thursday afternoon hoping that an extra day at altitude (above 8,000' or so) would slightly acclimatize me. I'm sure it did more to relax me than to give me any benefit as far as more efficient red blood cells. But so it goes - it is a delightful little town. I checked into my room at the Gunnison Inn in late afternoon. Extremely affordable rates, pleasant (and new) management, and a vision to turn their newly purchased Inn into a "Green" hotel - a selling point that will always draw me back their way. New owner Kip said it's a calling that prompted him and his wife to move from Palmer Lake to Gunnison, almost on a whim.
Having checked in and unloaded my truck, I thought to acquaint myself with the local organic/health food store for some fruit, almonds, and other tidbits I forgot to bring with me. As I drove down to the store, I realized that practically everything is walking distance from where I was which quickly endeared myself even more to this small southern Colorado hamlet. I noshed lightly for dinner, turned the TV off, and fell asleep rather quickly dreaming that in 30 hours or so, I'd be waking up to one of the most challenging physical endeavors I'd ever attempted.
On Friday, after a broken night of sleep, I was too jazzed to stay in bed so I drove up to Hartman Rocks, the site of the race. Only having a 2-wheel drive truck, I decided to only go up the first road to a fantastic overlook and quickly found the orange signs and yellow course markings of the race. My breath was temporarily taken away as I gazed at the course map. With trail names like "Kill Hill," "Skull Pass," and "Rattlesnake" I began to question my intentions. And my sanity. Wow, this is going to be a humdinger.
I left Hartman and proceeded to drive up to the beautiful ski town of Crested Butte for lunch, about 30 miles up the road. Relax, relax, relax I told myself as I drove along the Gunnison River raging along the winding route. After lunch at the Paradise Cafe, I sat in the nice warm sun doing some good old-fashioned people-watching on Main St. I could get into this kind of Friday. I decided to call it a day and drove back to Gunnison for a little sunshine siesta to complete the relaxing kinda day.
As I woke up around 4pm that afternoon, I felt my way around the artifically darkened motel room to the bathroom. On my way back to the wall with the light switch, I felt a bit of a pinch in the bottom of my foot. It morphed into a slight, persistent burn, then a full-fledged sting.... WTF IS THAT?!?! I reached down and off the bottom of my foot grabbed a gi-normous, hairy/fuzzy honey bee of some sort that had just greeted me with a disagreeable stinger in the bottom of my freakin' foot. I quickly ushered the little bastard out of my room back to its outdoor habitat. I should also take this time to tell you that I am allergic to bee stings. Not deathly so, just annoyingly so. Lots of swelling and irritation type stuff. As I stuck my foot under cold running water, I realized I had no Benadryl to ingest, so back off to the market I would go. As I slipped my Teva on, it just hurt and panged; I felt like there was a lump on the bottom of my foot. A stinking lump. Oh wait, there was. And I have to run 31 miles on this foot in the morning.... hmmmmm.... how would this work out?
An hour and 2 Benadryls later, I found myself out at Garlic Mike's sucking down a glass of a tasty house red wine attempting to further numb my lumpy, stinging foot. Some good pasta, excellent service, and some more local-watching brought me to a sense of peace and readiness as I walked/limped out with 12 hours to go to the start command. Another Benadryl and foot-icing later, I hit the hay again hoping for a solid night's sleep. Nerves won out, as usual. I woke up at 4:30 on my own deciding to simply get myself up and ready. The foot felt good. There was a tiny little non-stinging lump still there - nothing that a 31-mile pounding wouldn't take care of. Phew - that was a close one. At 6:25am, I left the motel and proceeded back to Hartman Rocks, this time for the real deal, not just a recon drive. A couple dozen cars parked and a few more people milling about, I (re-)introduced myself to Chris Boyack who I'd met briefly in Fruita, a recent acquaintance of Kirk (aka - Funky Legs) and exchanged brief pleasantries. See Chris' race report HERE. We both went back to our pre-race routines and got ready. A bit before 7am on this beautiful late spring morning, one of the RDs brought us all together to give us a quick pre-race spiel.
The 25K course is actually slightly longer, the 50K course actually slightly shorter, follow the orange signs/pink tape, don't die, etc. Oh yeah and Duncan Callahan, (local trail runner extraordinaire, 20-hour Leadville finisher in 2007, and 2007 winner of the 50-mile Spring Desert Ultra in Fruita) had run the course in preview a week or two prior and proclaimed, "Man, that runs like a 40-miler." With that the RD drew a line in the ground with his heel and said, "uh, well, go." I LOVE these understated beginnings. 66 of us headed off up Kill Hill and Tail Pipe trails on a perfect morning for a run.
As usual, I felt rather fine cresting the first hill and enjoyed the relatively quick descent through the first stretch of semi-technical (but not really) terrain. I was flying - or so I thought.
After an hour or so of simply trying to monitor my breathing, I finally took true note of my surroundings. Chris who I mentioned earlier was still in easy sight range after 7 or 8 miles. Hmmmm...... I started WAY too quickly I began telling myself. Or did I? I was still groovin' - sorta. The 25K/50K split passed by as did the second aid station. I settled into my first semblance of an easy pace and let several folks pass me by. I'd rather intentionally let them pass me here whence I was still feeling OK. If they flew by me at mile 25 or 30, spirits, egos, and motivation would be crushed. Now, not so much. There was sage surrounding, oxygen in the air, sand under foot, accomplishments to be had. The third (and fourth) aid station quickly came about bookending Skull Pass with both its first and second showing being mighty welcome. The cute touch was that of some local beast's skull substituting for a rock cairn about halfway through the 1.5 mile loop. Oh, joy.
The ascent out of the 16.5 mile aid station was none too pleasant for me. I just nailed the proverbial, the physical, the all-too-present..... wall. But why? No idea. The cramps and doubts began. Let the gaddamned mind games commence.
It was almost 6 more miles until the 22.25-mile aid station. By that time, no one had passed me - I had actually passed one other poor soul. The 2 dudes at that aid station were awesome. Jay Hunt and I lumbered in there together. He left before I did. I hung a bit, shot the shit, ate more potato chips and pretzels than I normally would've. It was a good decision. I found out that Tim Parr and Duncan Callahan (Msrs. numero uno and dos had passed through about "an hour-and-a-half ago"). Impressive I thought. At that point in time (my frame of reference), they were about finishing. Wow. I took off - more relaxed but still with a sense of urgency. I still had no desire to be out longer than 6 hours. I was still within range.
The next 4 miles or so saw more sage, gorgeous singletrack, trail repair (thank YOU volunteer folks -- YOU ROCK!!!), I managed to accidentally trip, and in turn, pass the aforementioned Jay - sorry man, I hit the asphalt for a 1/4 mile or so, then hit t....h....e...... effing hill. Jeeeeeezus Criminy guys, what kind of cruel joke is this?!?!?! Up, up, up..... ugghhhhhhhhhhhh. More sage, more rolling, more ups and down both physically and emotionally. I caught two more in my sight. I caught them both at the 26.25-mile aid station - as they were leaving. I was just rolling in. Similar to the previous aid station, I chit-chatted with the wonderful volunteers a bit longer than I normally would have. After all, it was the longest I'd ever been out. Then, the final true climb. Three figures on the rise to mark and pass - I would take out 2 of them before it was all said and done. And ohhhhhhhhhhhh........... the rise. Never-ending. But I persevered. And persevered. And persevered. The crest. The apex. The climax. Was I finally "here?" Yes, at least at the top of the final climb. But there was still a couple/few more miles to go. And so I went.
Bomb down, struggle up, pass the guy in the white shirt (Brian perhaps?). Concerned glances exchanged, we each assured each other we were OK. I passed easily after his quote of, "yup, I've become a salvage operation." He re-assured me he'd make it. I pushed on. I soon-after passed an older gent, I believe him to be Jim Mykelby from Leadville. An honor at that. He also assured me he'd be OK. As he had been strong the whole race until then, I decided to "empty the tank" as there were only 2 miles or so left. I decided that as I'd passed a few people since the halfway point that noone else would pass me at this point. And I would make sure that happens. Up, down, and all around - the undulations continued. Christ, it's never-ending. Some mountain-bikers pushed aside for me to pass. I think I told them thanks - if not, I did mean to. Thanks guys. Was I still lucid? Was I still making sense? How the HELL do people do 50M, 100K, 100M or more?!?!? Jeez. The tape and signs continued until I crested some rocks and saw the back end of the parking lot. I'm almost home I thought. Down, down, down some technical trails, over some rocks..... starting to flatten. Oh good, the cramps are back. Perhaps a final venture into my body reprimanding me. Eff you body. The finish line was in sight.
A few delightful volunteers ushered me down and around the bathrooms to the "black tape" that was the finish line. I crossed, and I headed for the shade, the water, the treats. I saw the familiar face of Ryan Burch (of Northern Colorado) and re-introduced myself (met him in Fruita). We chatted for a bit - he was waiting for his lady who was close to finishing her first 50K. Yup, the parallels continue.
I confirmed my finishing time of 5:58 (17 out of 35 overall) and took off. 50K, or 31M "conquering" 5,200' of elevation gain and loss. Rockin'. I got back to the hotel around 2:15 or so, popped a beer, did a cursory wash of my feet and legs, and walked down to the awards at Virginia and Main - a casually pleasant 10-minute walk from the motel. Yup, I'd done it. I spent an enjoyable hour or so hangin' with Chris and his trooper son Malcolm who had waited for him for over 5 hours. Way to go Malcolm - pleasure to meet you! Thank you both for the company.
This race needs to be put on all serious runner's schedule. Anyone who wants a quality, well-run, challenging, and down-to-earth 25K or 50K need to be here next year. Congrats and a job well done to the folks at Western State - the race director committee of Scott Drum, Jake Jones, Christine Beckham, and Chris Martinez (PLEASE let me know if I have any names wrong) and all of their superb volunteers. I will be back next year. Thank you to one and all. And thank you for not dropping me in the sage, somewhere, anywhere...... though it was nice to get lost in it for awhile (proverbially only, thankfully). See y'all next year.
Cheerio,
Dave
Saturday, June 7 marked the inaugural Sage Burner 25K and 50K in Gunnison, CO. Sponsored by Western State College, this was a smashing success from start to finish (at least in my legs and feet and back).... but I digress. It also happened to be my first 50K attempt. I drove down Thursday afternoon hoping that an extra day at altitude (above 8,000' or so) would slightly acclimatize me. I'm sure it did more to relax me than to give me any benefit as far as more efficient red blood cells. But so it goes - it is a delightful little town. I checked into my room at the Gunnison Inn in late afternoon. Extremely affordable rates, pleasant (and new) management, and a vision to turn their newly purchased Inn into a "Green" hotel - a selling point that will always draw me back their way. New owner Kip said it's a calling that prompted him and his wife to move from Palmer Lake to Gunnison, almost on a whim.
Having checked in and unloaded my truck, I thought to acquaint myself with the local organic/health food store for some fruit, almonds, and other tidbits I forgot to bring with me. As I drove down to the store, I realized that practically everything is walking distance from where I was which quickly endeared myself even more to this small southern Colorado hamlet. I noshed lightly for dinner, turned the TV off, and fell asleep rather quickly dreaming that in 30 hours or so, I'd be waking up to one of the most challenging physical endeavors I'd ever attempted.
On Friday, after a broken night of sleep, I was too jazzed to stay in bed so I drove up to Hartman Rocks, the site of the race. Only having a 2-wheel drive truck, I decided to only go up the first road to a fantastic overlook and quickly found the orange signs and yellow course markings of the race. My breath was temporarily taken away as I gazed at the course map. With trail names like "Kill Hill," "Skull Pass," and "Rattlesnake" I began to question my intentions. And my sanity. Wow, this is going to be a humdinger.
I left Hartman and proceeded to drive up to the beautiful ski town of Crested Butte for lunch, about 30 miles up the road. Relax, relax, relax I told myself as I drove along the Gunnison River raging along the winding route. After lunch at the Paradise Cafe, I sat in the nice warm sun doing some good old-fashioned people-watching on Main St. I could get into this kind of Friday. I decided to call it a day and drove back to Gunnison for a little sunshine siesta to complete the relaxing kinda day.
As I woke up around 4pm that afternoon, I felt my way around the artifically darkened motel room to the bathroom. On my way back to the wall with the light switch, I felt a bit of a pinch in the bottom of my foot. It morphed into a slight, persistent burn, then a full-fledged sting.... WTF IS THAT?!?! I reached down and off the bottom of my foot grabbed a gi-normous, hairy/fuzzy honey bee of some sort that had just greeted me with a disagreeable stinger in the bottom of my freakin' foot. I quickly ushered the little bastard out of my room back to its outdoor habitat. I should also take this time to tell you that I am allergic to bee stings. Not deathly so, just annoyingly so. Lots of swelling and irritation type stuff. As I stuck my foot under cold running water, I realized I had no Benadryl to ingest, so back off to the market I would go. As I slipped my Teva on, it just hurt and panged; I felt like there was a lump on the bottom of my foot. A stinking lump. Oh wait, there was. And I have to run 31 miles on this foot in the morning.... hmmmmm.... how would this work out?
An hour and 2 Benadryls later, I found myself out at Garlic Mike's sucking down a glass of a tasty house red wine attempting to further numb my lumpy, stinging foot. Some good pasta, excellent service, and some more local-watching brought me to a sense of peace and readiness as I walked/limped out with 12 hours to go to the start command. Another Benadryl and foot-icing later, I hit the hay again hoping for a solid night's sleep. Nerves won out, as usual. I woke up at 4:30 on my own deciding to simply get myself up and ready. The foot felt good. There was a tiny little non-stinging lump still there - nothing that a 31-mile pounding wouldn't take care of. Phew - that was a close one. At 6:25am, I left the motel and proceeded back to Hartman Rocks, this time for the real deal, not just a recon drive. A couple dozen cars parked and a few more people milling about, I (re-)introduced myself to Chris Boyack who I'd met briefly in Fruita, a recent acquaintance of Kirk (aka - Funky Legs) and exchanged brief pleasantries. See Chris' race report HERE. We both went back to our pre-race routines and got ready. A bit before 7am on this beautiful late spring morning, one of the RDs brought us all together to give us a quick pre-race spiel.
The 25K course is actually slightly longer, the 50K course actually slightly shorter, follow the orange signs/pink tape, don't die, etc. Oh yeah and Duncan Callahan, (local trail runner extraordinaire, 20-hour Leadville finisher in 2007, and 2007 winner of the 50-mile Spring Desert Ultra in Fruita) had run the course in preview a week or two prior and proclaimed, "Man, that runs like a 40-miler." With that the RD drew a line in the ground with his heel and said, "uh, well, go." I LOVE these understated beginnings. 66 of us headed off up Kill Hill and Tail Pipe trails on a perfect morning for a run.
As usual, I felt rather fine cresting the first hill and enjoyed the relatively quick descent through the first stretch of semi-technical (but not really) terrain. I was flying - or so I thought.
After an hour or so of simply trying to monitor my breathing, I finally took true note of my surroundings. Chris who I mentioned earlier was still in easy sight range after 7 or 8 miles. Hmmmm...... I started WAY too quickly I began telling myself. Or did I? I was still groovin' - sorta. The 25K/50K split passed by as did the second aid station. I settled into my first semblance of an easy pace and let several folks pass me by. I'd rather intentionally let them pass me here whence I was still feeling OK. If they flew by me at mile 25 or 30, spirits, egos, and motivation would be crushed. Now, not so much. There was sage surrounding, oxygen in the air, sand under foot, accomplishments to be had. The third (and fourth) aid station quickly came about bookending Skull Pass with both its first and second showing being mighty welcome. The cute touch was that of some local beast's skull substituting for a rock cairn about halfway through the 1.5 mile loop. Oh, joy.
The ascent out of the 16.5 mile aid station was none too pleasant for me. I just nailed the proverbial, the physical, the all-too-present..... wall. But why? No idea. The cramps and doubts began. Let the gaddamned mind games commence.
It was almost 6 more miles until the 22.25-mile aid station. By that time, no one had passed me - I had actually passed one other poor soul. The 2 dudes at that aid station were awesome. Jay Hunt and I lumbered in there together. He left before I did. I hung a bit, shot the shit, ate more potato chips and pretzels than I normally would've. It was a good decision. I found out that Tim Parr and Duncan Callahan (Msrs. numero uno and dos had passed through about "an hour-and-a-half ago"). Impressive I thought. At that point in time (my frame of reference), they were about finishing. Wow. I took off - more relaxed but still with a sense of urgency. I still had no desire to be out longer than 6 hours. I was still within range.
The next 4 miles or so saw more sage, gorgeous singletrack, trail repair (thank YOU volunteer folks -- YOU ROCK!!!), I managed to accidentally trip, and in turn, pass the aforementioned Jay - sorry man, I hit the asphalt for a 1/4 mile or so, then hit t....h....e...... effing hill. Jeeeeeezus Criminy guys, what kind of cruel joke is this?!?!?! Up, up, up..... ugghhhhhhhhhhhh. More sage, more rolling, more ups and down both physically and emotionally. I caught two more in my sight. I caught them both at the 26.25-mile aid station - as they were leaving. I was just rolling in. Similar to the previous aid station, I chit-chatted with the wonderful volunteers a bit longer than I normally would have. After all, it was the longest I'd ever been out. Then, the final true climb. Three figures on the rise to mark and pass - I would take out 2 of them before it was all said and done. And ohhhhhhhhhhhh........... the rise. Never-ending. But I persevered. And persevered. And persevered. The crest. The apex. The climax. Was I finally "here?" Yes, at least at the top of the final climb. But there was still a couple/few more miles to go. And so I went.
Bomb down, struggle up, pass the guy in the white shirt (Brian perhaps?). Concerned glances exchanged, we each assured each other we were OK. I passed easily after his quote of, "yup, I've become a salvage operation." He re-assured me he'd make it. I pushed on. I soon-after passed an older gent, I believe him to be Jim Mykelby from Leadville. An honor at that. He also assured me he'd be OK. As he had been strong the whole race until then, I decided to "empty the tank" as there were only 2 miles or so left. I decided that as I'd passed a few people since the halfway point that noone else would pass me at this point. And I would make sure that happens. Up, down, and all around - the undulations continued. Christ, it's never-ending. Some mountain-bikers pushed aside for me to pass. I think I told them thanks - if not, I did mean to. Thanks guys. Was I still lucid? Was I still making sense? How the HELL do people do 50M, 100K, 100M or more?!?!? Jeez. The tape and signs continued until I crested some rocks and saw the back end of the parking lot. I'm almost home I thought. Down, down, down some technical trails, over some rocks..... starting to flatten. Oh good, the cramps are back. Perhaps a final venture into my body reprimanding me. Eff you body. The finish line was in sight.
A few delightful volunteers ushered me down and around the bathrooms to the "black tape" that was the finish line. I crossed, and I headed for the shade, the water, the treats. I saw the familiar face of Ryan Burch (of Northern Colorado) and re-introduced myself (met him in Fruita). We chatted for a bit - he was waiting for his lady who was close to finishing her first 50K. Yup, the parallels continue.
I confirmed my finishing time of 5:58 (17 out of 35 overall) and took off. 50K, or 31M "conquering" 5,200' of elevation gain and loss. Rockin'. I got back to the hotel around 2:15 or so, popped a beer, did a cursory wash of my feet and legs, and walked down to the awards at Virginia and Main - a casually pleasant 10-minute walk from the motel. Yup, I'd done it. I spent an enjoyable hour or so hangin' with Chris and his trooper son Malcolm who had waited for him for over 5 hours. Way to go Malcolm - pleasure to meet you! Thank you both for the company.
This race needs to be put on all serious runner's schedule. Anyone who wants a quality, well-run, challenging, and down-to-earth 25K or 50K need to be here next year. Congrats and a job well done to the folks at Western State - the race director committee of Scott Drum, Jake Jones, Christine Beckham, and Chris Martinez (PLEASE let me know if I have any names wrong) and all of their superb volunteers. I will be back next year. Thank you to one and all. And thank you for not dropping me in the sage, somewhere, anywhere...... though it was nice to get lost in it for awhile (proverbially only, thankfully). See y'all next year.
Cheerio,
Dave
Monday, June 9, 2008
Desert Solitaire
So, I was down in Gunnison, CO over the weekend for a race. As I had purposely extended my weekend for some additional downtime, I brought one of my favorite books along with me. Ya know - one of those books that you have to re-read every year or two? And that book is Desert Solitaire, by Edward Abbey. It is such a delightfully refreshing read, I must recommend this to all out there who love nature, our National Parks heritage, and a good read. Though the book is 40 years old this year, the book still holds such truth and honesty of his experience as a Park Ranger in Arches National Park in Utah in the late 1950's.
That's it. Pick up a copy of it why don't ya? Let me know what you think.
That's it. Pick up a copy of it why don't ya? Let me know what you think.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Bolder Boulder - RACE REPORT
Hey there - I ran the Bolder Boulder 10K this year along with 54,000 others. It was tons o' fun. I PR'ed by 3 minutes - fininshed in 47:09. Cool. I strongly advise everyone to do this for themselves, just once. My silly little race report will not do it justice if you've never experienced this event before. But I share with you some easily, and happily recovered memories, from last Monday.
I sang with the Blues Brothers, again.
Thank you Glen Delman for smacking me on the back and saying, "Don't give up now Butler" after I had zoned out and comfortably settled in behind some slower runners.
I did not do the slip 'n' slide.
I did salivate (again) for the third year in a row when I smelled frying bacon.
I did drink a free beer before 9 in the morning, on Memorial Day, for the third year in a row.
I did almost freeze my butt off hanging out with the good folks from Fast Forward Sports for almost two hours after I finished.
I became rather agitated while waiting almost an hour for a damn local SKIP bus to head home to North Boulder.
And I vowed never to run this race again, for the second year in a row. Talk to ya next year......... next up - my first 50K next weekend. Stay tuned.
I sang with the Blues Brothers, again.
Thank you Glen Delman for smacking me on the back and saying, "Don't give up now Butler" after I had zoned out and comfortably settled in behind some slower runners.
I did not do the slip 'n' slide.
I did salivate (again) for the third year in a row when I smelled frying bacon.
I did drink a free beer before 9 in the morning, on Memorial Day, for the third year in a row.
I did almost freeze my butt off hanging out with the good folks from Fast Forward Sports for almost two hours after I finished.
I became rather agitated while waiting almost an hour for a damn local SKIP bus to head home to North Boulder.
And I vowed never to run this race again, for the second year in a row. Talk to ya next year......... next up - my first 50K next weekend. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Balarat Trail Race - RACE REPORT
A beautiful day for a trail race, let's run 2. OK, technically that slogan refers to a doubleheader in baseball, but why can't it relate to other events and activities? This was, essentially, a perfect day for a May trail race. Driving up Left Hand Canyon leaving Boulder saw the sun and a warm morning turn to overcast and windy in the very short drive up to Jamestown, CO. The race was the Balarat Trail Run, a benefit for Denver Public Schools (DPS). DPS uses this facility for its outdoor education program. Hence, a worthy cause near and dear to my heart.
I've run this race each of the last 3 years now, and for a 10K-type length, it is far from your typical 10K. It loses and gains over 1,000' of altitude in its short span. The organizers have it right as they included both an uphill start and an uphill finish, using essentially the same location for the start and finish - very impressive course with spectacular views and gorgeous meadows.
The weather was a bit iffy - typical in May in the mountains. When the sun came out, short sleeves. When the sun was clouded over, long sleeves. When the sun was clouded over with wind, long sleeves - perhaps a jacket. When the sun was clouded over with wind, snow, and sleet...... anyway - you get the picture. We hit several different types of weather and as long as you stayed running, you were fine. Hence my decision to go with strictly long sleeves, no jacket or base layers. A little motivation to stay running is always welcome.
So, the last couple years, the distance I've run in this race has always been fewer than 6 miles due to one thing or another. I've never broken an hour on this course. So, I was hoping this would be the year. And that I would run the full distance.
The uphill start is a great warm-up. You're not going to fly out the gate unless you're a typical (not me) Colorado runner freak (like about half the field). As the road gave way to the first stretch of singletrack, several folks who started behind me buzzed past me, already huffing and puffing. I thought to myself: It's gonna be a LONG 5.5-6 miles for those folks...... I passed them easily on the first descent and made up 3 or 4 spots on some others. Never saw them again. As the trail dropped us onto the first road, the course flattened; I felt surprisingly strong. Cool, so I pushed up the first beautiful road climb and peaked out at the first view of the meadows and first couple stream crossings.
It was the kind of day and scene where if you could build a log cabin, you would. No matter the cost or the energy, it would be worthwhile to be able to watch the moon rise and the sun set with this kind of surrounding from here on out. Just gorgeous. Rarely do I not find the courses I run beautiful in some capacity. All the more reason to find new race places and return to the old faves.
So, you continue through the undulating terrain and then I heard it. They started the music early. And through the trees with the birdsong and the sky with the wind blowing, this delightful bit of finger-pickin' bluegrass and downhome fiddle-totin' humans. Very cool. Moments like that enable me to push a bit harder. And I realized how well I was running when I spotted a familiar shirt in front of me - Torin (one of my coaches) was within eyeshot. Interesting.....
I pushed and pushed and actually ran two of the uphill sections I had never run in previous years. Unfortunately for me, Torin is a monster downhiller and he quickly disappeared after that final descent. Then the inevitable uphill switchbacks proved to be a bit too much to catch my two targets in front of me and..... a sub-1:00 finish. My official finishing time: 60:01. You have GOT to be kidding me. One of the rare instances where a watch would have actually helped me come in at 59:59. Oh well, there's always next year. Hope you can all join me!!!
I've run this race each of the last 3 years now, and for a 10K-type length, it is far from your typical 10K. It loses and gains over 1,000' of altitude in its short span. The organizers have it right as they included both an uphill start and an uphill finish, using essentially the same location for the start and finish - very impressive course with spectacular views and gorgeous meadows.
The weather was a bit iffy - typical in May in the mountains. When the sun came out, short sleeves. When the sun was clouded over, long sleeves. When the sun was clouded over with wind, long sleeves - perhaps a jacket. When the sun was clouded over with wind, snow, and sleet...... anyway - you get the picture. We hit several different types of weather and as long as you stayed running, you were fine. Hence my decision to go with strictly long sleeves, no jacket or base layers. A little motivation to stay running is always welcome.
So, the last couple years, the distance I've run in this race has always been fewer than 6 miles due to one thing or another. I've never broken an hour on this course. So, I was hoping this would be the year. And that I would run the full distance.
The uphill start is a great warm-up. You're not going to fly out the gate unless you're a typical (not me) Colorado runner freak (like about half the field). As the road gave way to the first stretch of singletrack, several folks who started behind me buzzed past me, already huffing and puffing. I thought to myself: It's gonna be a LONG 5.5-6 miles for those folks...... I passed them easily on the first descent and made up 3 or 4 spots on some others. Never saw them again. As the trail dropped us onto the first road, the course flattened; I felt surprisingly strong. Cool, so I pushed up the first beautiful road climb and peaked out at the first view of the meadows and first couple stream crossings.
It was the kind of day and scene where if you could build a log cabin, you would. No matter the cost or the energy, it would be worthwhile to be able to watch the moon rise and the sun set with this kind of surrounding from here on out. Just gorgeous. Rarely do I not find the courses I run beautiful in some capacity. All the more reason to find new race places and return to the old faves.
So, you continue through the undulating terrain and then I heard it. They started the music early. And through the trees with the birdsong and the sky with the wind blowing, this delightful bit of finger-pickin' bluegrass and downhome fiddle-totin' humans. Very cool. Moments like that enable me to push a bit harder. And I realized how well I was running when I spotted a familiar shirt in front of me - Torin (one of my coaches) was within eyeshot. Interesting.....
I pushed and pushed and actually ran two of the uphill sections I had never run in previous years. Unfortunately for me, Torin is a monster downhiller and he quickly disappeared after that final descent. Then the inevitable uphill switchbacks proved to be a bit too much to catch my two targets in front of me and..... a sub-1:00 finish. My official finishing time: 60:01. You have GOT to be kidding me. One of the rare instances where a watch would have actually helped me come in at 59:59. Oh well, there's always next year. Hope you can all join me!!!
Friday, April 25, 2008
Desert R.A.T.S. Trail Running Festival - RACE REPORT
Saturday, April 19, 2008. The Western Slope of Colorado, Mack exit off of I-70. Looks innocent enough, almost uneventful. But one weekend each year, the good folks from Gemini Adventures and a few hundred of their closest friends take over. Silly. Happy. Partially, or perhaps, completely insane folks. Like trail runners. Ya know, those who voluntarily would rather suffer (or freeze) in heat (or snow) than be on their couch watching netflix; those who view mountain ascents as a run in the park only to be slowed by the inevitable force of gravity (no, gravity works better going down dumbass!!!); and if beer could hydrate and sustain a body over a 25-mile, or 50-mile (or more), course...... these races would be sponsored by Left Hand, or Breckenridge, or New Belgium, or Avery, at least in Colorado.
But I digress. When I did this race last year, it was the first of its length that I had ever attempted. And it felt like it. I finished in 4:58:47, 53rd out of 142 starters. Not great, but not too shabby for a first attempt. It hurt. I crashed and almost burned nearly thrice throughout the course. I had nothing left on the final approach to the finish line with some severe calf cramps to boot. Yuk. I'll never do that again, or so I thought. Back for more, in 2008. Training went well, except for the 2 weeks off in January b/c of bronchitis/cough/cold/fever. And the 15 days I spent in Oklahoma for work in late February and early March. Ever try and do hill repeats or rolling fartleks in North-Central Oklahoma??? But one perseveres. Visualization played a larger part this year, along with familiarity with the course. I set my goal at a sub 4:45 before all of the sickness and travel. I thought to amend it at times. Then I lost site of the goal. And re-gained it. And then lost it again.... then regained. So, there I stood at the start line, around 6:25am this past Saturday. No turning back now Dave.
The start conditions were ideal, picture perfect – 40s, clear blue sky with the eastern sky beginning to ditch the oblivion of night. About 200 or so crazies (several of which will probably be the only companionship over the next several hours) start eastbound down a dirt road paralleling the I-70. You’re off, over one of the most beautifully challenging courses and challengingly beautiful race courses one could imagine. The route then turns off the road and starts you going up, and up a little more, then up and down and all around, until you wind into the first aid station at mile 5.9; it’s called Moore Fun. Sick sons of bitches.
And so it goes. The next 3.3 miles to the Pizza Overlook aid station went by quickly and I almost chose to run through the aid station. I still had about a half-bottle of Accelerade-laden water to go and thought...... I can do it, only 3.3 miles or so until the next aid station. But it was getting warmer and logic somehow won out. I quickly stopped with my water bottle top unscrewed ready to top off the hand-held. "Water?" I asked in a hurry. A benign finger pointed to an unmarked orange container - I was in and out in less than 15 seconds. Then about a half mile down the trail, I pulled open the spout and shot some liquid into my semi-parched mouth. UGGGHHH!!!! HammerHeed. No offense guys, this stuff tastes terrible. Ya know when Lucy gets kissed by Snoopy in Peanuts? Yeah, surprise, surprise. I gagged and spit a decent amount of the stuff out on the trail in front of me. Heed germs, get me some hot water and disinfectant. Anyway, I lived through the moment, chuckling about it not 2 minutes later when I slugged my next sip - this time ready for the fun. Not too bad I chuckled. The guy ahead of me probably thought I was already losing it - talking to oneself and laughing out loud less than halfway into a 25-mile trail race.
But I felt good. Really good. And at that point, I started psyching myself up for the approach to, and departure from, the Crossroads Aid Station at my halfway point (Mile 12.5). From last year, I remember a hill heading out of there. A big hill. A hill where last year I was already hurting physically (poor nutrition I determined), and I then let the visual aspect of the climb defeat me mentally. It sucked big time last year. I struggled through each step and then another hill rose beyond that descent. And the you start the up-down-and-all-around pattern again. But this year, I was ready. One simply perseveres, ya know?
I cruised into the aid station having passed about a half-dozen people since the last aid station. Water bottle open, pre-portioned dose of Accelerade in hand, add water, shake and mix. Pop down a couple Hammer Endurolytes - these are good stuff - easy on the stomach, unlike your cousin Heed. Suck down another GU. "Another one" I asked myself? Had I been eating enough? I felt great, but don't remember eating anything except for about 3 or 4 Shot Blocks and some pretzels and chips at the aid stations in the first half of the race. I took a quick inventory of fuel - I had (seemingly) unconciously already downed a whole package of Shot Blocks and a GU in addition to the 3 or 4 plus GUs I remembered. Wow, I may have loaded myself up just right with fuel and food placement in my pockets and handheld pouch. Sweet, right on nutrition schedule. I cruised up that hill, so unlike last year. It was like a different uphill to me (and I am not a very strong uphiller). I was going to do it. I was going to do that sub-4:45 I had imagined.
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The next 4-5 miles or so was a blur of beauty, of easy breathing, of challenges unsurpassed, and of comfortable pace. I was passing people and getting passed by noone. What the hell? Stop the self-induced hinderance I thought. Just go with it. And I did. Until about mile 17 or so - part of the Troy Built Loop. That's when, in a 5-minute span, my stomach (GI cramps), back (lower lumbar PAIN), and hamstrings (guitar-string tight), all decided to show up and have a crash-Dave's-race suaree. The trail then turned northerly, then easterly, right into a warmer sun than I could ever had realized AND that warm wind they were talking about. Not a cool river breeze, but a warm nasty wind. My mind joined the squalid suaree. And so it went, a battle of wits and rancorous spirit that threatened to derail my day. If I let it. I was doing my best to fight it, but I was letting it win. I talked out loud. I exchanged shallow WHY ME glances with the hallowed flows of the Mighty Colorado as the main channel disappeared from view hoping the view of nature would remind me of my good fortune just to be out here. Or maybe wishing I was on a lazy raft ride with a cooler of beer and some good company. It worked, cause then it happened - I saw the interstate and knew how much closer I was to the final full aid station at the base of Mack Ridge. I cruised the last half-mile or so into the aid station. As long as walking wobbly and running haggard was a cruise. At this point it was, compared to the inevitable ascent up Mack Ridge.
Mack Ridge. A huge hill by sea level standards. An anthill compared to true mountain running. But a hill nonetheless. I started my own pharmaceutical distribution center at this aid stop, at the base of Mack Ridge. 3 Advil, 3 Endurolytes, a borrowed salt tablet, cola, and a banana. If that ain't the breakfast of champions. If my stomach and body couldn't handle that cocktail, I was done. But really, I felt as if I was done if I didn't try this. I don't know what possesses one to attempt a race that has this type of hill at Mile 19, but you realize it is truly a matter of perspective. A very painful perspective. But telling and truthful. Whoever drove the dozer/road-flatter-outer on this stretch needs to be fired. Or sober next time they drive this stretch of "road?" Holy crap, what were they thinking?!? But you persevere, still.
I ascended, surely. Continuously. Don't stop dude. I hit the couple flats along the way. Brief reprieve. Very brief. By mile 22 or so, I felt good. Really good. I picked it up. I started running again. I pegged the guy in the yellow shirt (my guess is either Joel Arellano or Mark Christopherson) as my first target to pass. We hit the rolling top of Mack Ridge en-route to the descent to the final stretch home. I tailed him through and unto the descent. We passed our first 50-miler (Allen Belshaw) around Mile 22-23 or so (very rough estimate). Ryan Burch soon followed. Freakin' studs these guys are. As we started our descent, I thought of passing him now. I restrained myself. Just as we were about to hit the last turn onto the road, a couple wonderful ladies sat on a rock cheering us on - "Let's go yellow." - "Come on Fast Forward Sports" - a fellow Boulderite training person. "You're almost done - you're a mile to done!!!" Nice, enthusiasm. I waved. The stud in front of me said, "or a mile to the halfway point." Huh?!? I'd been pushing to keep up with a 50-miler?!? Crap I tell ya. Colorado breeds freaks - and I mean that in the best way possible. We exchanged pleasantries. I looked over my shoulder once, twice, thrice. He asked what was up (or back). I told him that last year (2007), at this point, my studette friend Michelle, who I had been leading for over 24 miles of the course, promptly, efficiently, and effortlessly, "chicked" me. She finished 0:37 in front of me. With that ghostful vision, I wished him luck and took off.
I hit the road and promptly picked off 2 more people (at this point, I didn't care if they were 25- or 50-milers). Here came the first 50-mile female (Helen Cospolich) and then my buddy Kirk (heading out for his first 50-mile attempt ever). We exchanged high fives. I accelerated and thought to myself, kick it in like you're being followed by a person possessed...... it worked. There were the tents of the finish line. Wait, did the digital timer read 4:58:xx??? WTF??? I was already behind last year?!? Crap. I still didn't let up, it couldn't be right. About 20 yards further, I focused again. I saw the timer flip from 4:38:59 to 4:39:00. WOW!!! I could come in under 4:40, not just 4:45. I picked it up. I crossed the finish line at 4:39:59 - almost 19 minutes faster than last year. Wow. Sweet. I felt freakin' awesome. I did it. As Lyle Lovett has said, "I love everyone."
Until next year. When I try the 50-mile version of this. Any takers?
But I digress. When I did this race last year, it was the first of its length that I had ever attempted. And it felt like it. I finished in 4:58:47, 53rd out of 142 starters. Not great, but not too shabby for a first attempt. It hurt. I crashed and almost burned nearly thrice throughout the course. I had nothing left on the final approach to the finish line with some severe calf cramps to boot. Yuk. I'll never do that again, or so I thought. Back for more, in 2008. Training went well, except for the 2 weeks off in January b/c of bronchitis/cough/cold/fever. And the 15 days I spent in Oklahoma for work in late February and early March. Ever try and do hill repeats or rolling fartleks in North-Central Oklahoma??? But one perseveres. Visualization played a larger part this year, along with familiarity with the course. I set my goal at a sub 4:45 before all of the sickness and travel. I thought to amend it at times. Then I lost site of the goal. And re-gained it. And then lost it again.... then regained. So, there I stood at the start line, around 6:25am this past Saturday. No turning back now Dave.
The start conditions were ideal, picture perfect – 40s, clear blue sky with the eastern sky beginning to ditch the oblivion of night. About 200 or so crazies (several of which will probably be the only companionship over the next several hours) start eastbound down a dirt road paralleling the I-70. You’re off, over one of the most beautifully challenging courses and challengingly beautiful race courses one could imagine. The route then turns off the road and starts you going up, and up a little more, then up and down and all around, until you wind into the first aid station at mile 5.9; it’s called Moore Fun. Sick sons of bitches.
And so it goes. The next 3.3 miles to the Pizza Overlook aid station went by quickly and I almost chose to run through the aid station. I still had about a half-bottle of Accelerade-laden water to go and thought...... I can do it, only 3.3 miles or so until the next aid station. But it was getting warmer and logic somehow won out. I quickly stopped with my water bottle top unscrewed ready to top off the hand-held. "Water?" I asked in a hurry. A benign finger pointed to an unmarked orange container - I was in and out in less than 15 seconds. Then about a half mile down the trail, I pulled open the spout and shot some liquid into my semi-parched mouth. UGGGHHH!!!! HammerHeed. No offense guys, this stuff tastes terrible. Ya know when Lucy gets kissed by Snoopy in Peanuts? Yeah, surprise, surprise. I gagged and spit a decent amount of the stuff out on the trail in front of me. Heed germs, get me some hot water and disinfectant. Anyway, I lived through the moment, chuckling about it not 2 minutes later when I slugged my next sip - this time ready for the fun. Not too bad I chuckled. The guy ahead of me probably thought I was already losing it - talking to oneself and laughing out loud less than halfway into a 25-mile trail race.
But I felt good. Really good. And at that point, I started psyching myself up for the approach to, and departure from, the Crossroads Aid Station at my halfway point (Mile 12.5). From last year, I remember a hill heading out of there. A big hill. A hill where last year I was already hurting physically (poor nutrition I determined), and I then let the visual aspect of the climb defeat me mentally. It sucked big time last year. I struggled through each step and then another hill rose beyond that descent. And the you start the up-down-and-all-around pattern again. But this year, I was ready. One simply perseveres, ya know?
I cruised into the aid station having passed about a half-dozen people since the last aid station. Water bottle open, pre-portioned dose of Accelerade in hand, add water, shake and mix. Pop down a couple Hammer Endurolytes - these are good stuff - easy on the stomach, unlike your cousin Heed. Suck down another GU. "Another one" I asked myself? Had I been eating enough? I felt great, but don't remember eating anything except for about 3 or 4 Shot Blocks and some pretzels and chips at the aid stations in the first half of the race. I took a quick inventory of fuel - I had (seemingly) unconciously already downed a whole package of Shot Blocks and a GU in addition to the 3 or 4 plus GUs I remembered. Wow, I may have loaded myself up just right with fuel and food placement in my pockets and handheld pouch. Sweet, right on nutrition schedule. I cruised up that hill, so unlike last year. It was like a different uphill to me (and I am not a very strong uphiller). I was going to do it. I was going to do that sub-4:45 I had imagined.
.jpg)
The next 4-5 miles or so was a blur of beauty, of easy breathing, of challenges unsurpassed, and of comfortable pace. I was passing people and getting passed by noone. What the hell? Stop the self-induced hinderance I thought. Just go with it. And I did. Until about mile 17 or so - part of the Troy Built Loop. That's when, in a 5-minute span, my stomach (GI cramps), back (lower lumbar PAIN), and hamstrings (guitar-string tight), all decided to show up and have a crash-Dave's-race suaree. The trail then turned northerly, then easterly, right into a warmer sun than I could ever had realized AND that warm wind they were talking about. Not a cool river breeze, but a warm nasty wind. My mind joined the squalid suaree. And so it went, a battle of wits and rancorous spirit that threatened to derail my day. If I let it. I was doing my best to fight it, but I was letting it win. I talked out loud. I exchanged shallow WHY ME glances with the hallowed flows of the Mighty Colorado as the main channel disappeared from view hoping the view of nature would remind me of my good fortune just to be out here. Or maybe wishing I was on a lazy raft ride with a cooler of beer and some good company. It worked, cause then it happened - I saw the interstate and knew how much closer I was to the final full aid station at the base of Mack Ridge. I cruised the last half-mile or so into the aid station. As long as walking wobbly and running haggard was a cruise. At this point it was, compared to the inevitable ascent up Mack Ridge.
Mack Ridge. A huge hill by sea level standards. An anthill compared to true mountain running. But a hill nonetheless. I started my own pharmaceutical distribution center at this aid stop, at the base of Mack Ridge. 3 Advil, 3 Endurolytes, a borrowed salt tablet, cola, and a banana. If that ain't the breakfast of champions. If my stomach and body couldn't handle that cocktail, I was done. But really, I felt as if I was done if I didn't try this. I don't know what possesses one to attempt a race that has this type of hill at Mile 19, but you realize it is truly a matter of perspective. A very painful perspective. But telling and truthful. Whoever drove the dozer/road-flatter-outer on this stretch needs to be fired. Or sober next time they drive this stretch of "road?" Holy crap, what were they thinking?!? But you persevere, still.
I ascended, surely. Continuously. Don't stop dude. I hit the couple flats along the way. Brief reprieve. Very brief. By mile 22 or so, I felt good. Really good. I picked it up. I started running again. I pegged the guy in the yellow shirt (my guess is either Joel Arellano or Mark Christopherson) as my first target to pass. We hit the rolling top of Mack Ridge en-route to the descent to the final stretch home. I tailed him through and unto the descent. We passed our first 50-miler (Allen Belshaw) around Mile 22-23 or so (very rough estimate). Ryan Burch soon followed. Freakin' studs these guys are. As we started our descent, I thought of passing him now. I restrained myself. Just as we were about to hit the last turn onto the road, a couple wonderful ladies sat on a rock cheering us on - "Let's go yellow." - "Come on Fast Forward Sports" - a fellow Boulderite training person. "You're almost done - you're a mile to done!!!" Nice, enthusiasm. I waved. The stud in front of me said, "or a mile to the halfway point." Huh?!? I'd been pushing to keep up with a 50-miler?!? Crap I tell ya. Colorado breeds freaks - and I mean that in the best way possible. We exchanged pleasantries. I looked over my shoulder once, twice, thrice. He asked what was up (or back). I told him that last year (2007), at this point, my studette friend Michelle, who I had been leading for over 24 miles of the course, promptly, efficiently, and effortlessly, "chicked" me. She finished 0:37 in front of me. With that ghostful vision, I wished him luck and took off.
I hit the road and promptly picked off 2 more people (at this point, I didn't care if they were 25- or 50-milers). Here came the first 50-mile female (Helen Cospolich) and then my buddy Kirk (heading out for his first 50-mile attempt ever). We exchanged high fives. I accelerated and thought to myself, kick it in like you're being followed by a person possessed...... it worked. There were the tents of the finish line. Wait, did the digital timer read 4:58:xx??? WTF??? I was already behind last year?!? Crap. I still didn't let up, it couldn't be right. About 20 yards further, I focused again. I saw the timer flip from 4:38:59 to 4:39:00. WOW!!! I could come in under 4:40, not just 4:45. I picked it up. I crossed the finish line at 4:39:59 - almost 19 minutes faster than last year. Wow. Sweet. I felt freakin' awesome. I did it. As Lyle Lovett has said, "I love everyone."
Until next year. When I try the 50-mile version of this. Any takers?
Monday, April 21, 2008
THE CHALLENGE: 50 to 50......
...... lbs to kilometers that is. Yep, I am close to the end of my drop 50 lbs in order to run 50 kilometers challenge. Not that I had publicized this. In fact, it only jumped into my brain a few weeks ago.
So, three years in May-June 2005, prior to beginning my running exploits, I was tipping the scales at 225 lbs. WAY too much. Not that I had such exact goals or such a challenge in mind, I just wanted to get down to 200-ish. I am now about 178 lbs. And on June 7, 2008, I run my first 50K running race (that's 31 miles for those conversion-challenged out there). So, I have about 8 weeks left to drop my last 3 lbs. Very doable. I think.
Many of you know that I simply began running to "lose weight." I had no inkling I'd be back down to high school weight (180 lbs) at any point in time. Much less, less than high school weight. Wierd. But, I've seen too many instances of our culture where the emphasis is not on health and nutrition. I did not want to be one of those "too many instances." So, I did something about it. Will you?
Stay tuned.......
So, three years in May-June 2005, prior to beginning my running exploits, I was tipping the scales at 225 lbs. WAY too much. Not that I had such exact goals or such a challenge in mind, I just wanted to get down to 200-ish. I am now about 178 lbs. And on June 7, 2008, I run my first 50K running race (that's 31 miles for those conversion-challenged out there). So, I have about 8 weeks left to drop my last 3 lbs. Very doable. I think.
Many of you know that I simply began running to "lose weight." I had no inkling I'd be back down to high school weight (180 lbs) at any point in time. Much less, less than high school weight. Wierd. But, I've seen too many instances of our culture where the emphasis is not on health and nutrition. I did not want to be one of those "too many instances." So, I did something about it. Will you?
Stay tuned.......
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
MS150 Ride -- 2008 Version
Multiple Sclerosis (MS) is one of those all-too-common things many hear, but few know about or understand. I figure between now and when I die, me or someone I know and love, will be diagnosed with MS, or cancer, or CP, or a host of many other brutal diseases and debilitating conditions that inhibit one's life and ability to live. While we are healthy and able, let's do something. Make a donation, volunteer, speak out, raise money, make a positive difference any way you can and know how. Every year across the US, thousands ride their bikes one weekend out of the year in cities east and west, north and south, to raise money for MS.
Last year, Veener did this ride. This year, I am joining her. We are riding on the same team, Left Hand Brewing with Captain Mick.
Please click on this link to simply educate yourself about MS. If you are so inclined to donate, thank you. If not, I understand - but do educate yourself, please.
To donate, please click on this link:
And then click on my name.
Thanks for reading, donating, and being educated!
Dave
PS - If I get $500. in donations, I will do the Century Option (100 miles instead of 75) on one of the 2 days. If I raise $1,000. or more, I will do the Century Option BOTH days. Make me work people!
To donate, please click on this link:
And then click on my name.
Thanks for reading, donating, and being educated!
Dave
PS - If I get $500. in donations, I will do the Century Option (100 miles instead of 75) on one of the 2 days. If I raise $1,000. or more, I will do the Century Option BOTH days. Make me work people!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Home? Or Home?
So, the lady and I returned from a New Year's trip to New York back in January and I started this post not long after. New York is the state where we were both born and raised. I left New York in 1995 when I was 23 years old. At the time, I simply needed to experience something more than "The City that never sleeps." Or the Island that sleeps in lieu of New York City. Anyway, here I still live, two time zones and 1,818 miles away (according to Google Maps).
One of the most common questions I seem to hear is, "Don't you miss the ocean?" And the honest answer is no, I do not. The ocean is magnificent, beautiful, and powerful. I appreciate it when I see it. And I dare not speak to the negative about the qualities of growing up on Long Island - it's a great place to grow up. But I can honestly say, I LOVE being landlocked here in Colorado.
The second most common question I seem to hear is, "Do you ever get homesick?" Hmmmmm, I thought I was home here in Colorado. We own our home here. We work here and pay taxes here. I thought this is home. Or is it? Where is home? What is home? And is "it" what you make it? In this day and age of folks jet-setting and moving to and fro all willy-nilly, one cannot help but wonder, where is home anymore? And is "it" truly what you make it?
I thought this post was going to be much longer and require a whole bunch more thought - philosophical or otherwise. But perhaps not. Perhaps you can just toss your thoughts this way. Start one of them good ol'-fashioned discussions.
So, where are you from? And where exactly is "home?"
One of the most common questions I seem to hear is, "Don't you miss the ocean?" And the honest answer is no, I do not. The ocean is magnificent, beautiful, and powerful. I appreciate it when I see it. And I dare not speak to the negative about the qualities of growing up on Long Island - it's a great place to grow up. But I can honestly say, I LOVE being landlocked here in Colorado.
The second most common question I seem to hear is, "Do you ever get homesick?" Hmmmmm, I thought I was home here in Colorado. We own our home here. We work here and pay taxes here. I thought this is home. Or is it? Where is home? What is home? And is "it" what you make it? In this day and age of folks jet-setting and moving to and fro all willy-nilly, one cannot help but wonder, where is home anymore? And is "it" truly what you make it?
I thought this post was going to be much longer and require a whole bunch more thought - philosophical or otherwise. But perhaps not. Perhaps you can just toss your thoughts this way. Start one of them good ol'-fashioned discussions.
So, where are you from? And where exactly is "home?"
Monday, March 17, 2008
A Run Through Time - RACE REPORT
Saturday, March 15, 2008 in beautiful Salida, Colorado. I love this place and not just cause of its beauty and serene nature. This particular race holds strong sentimental value for me - it was my first half-marathon ever, and I've gotten to participate in it each of the first 3 years this race has been in existence.
REWIND: Two years ago in 2006 was the inaugural "Run Through Time." I had been training with one of the local half-marathon training groups from Fast Forward Sports as they prepared for the Canyonlands Half Marathon. It was my attempt at understanding myself as a runner and determining my capabilities. After a month or so, I realized I could do this distance. So I went to sign up. Too late, all sold out. DOH!!! So, my quest to find an alternate half marathon led me to Salida, CO that March for the inaugural Run Through Time. I finished that year in 2:08:38, 26th overall out of 88 starters.
Last year, I was coming off 2 straight weeks of field work in Utah and felt pretty tired on my drive down the day before. The morning of was not too much different than normal. The start at 9am was prompt, and by about 9:05 up and over the first small hill, I knew I was in trouble; I was miserable. The stomach cramps started around mile 4 but subsided by the turnaround at mile 6.5. They returned with a vengeance around mile 11. As I came down the final homestretch, I was doubling over and Kirk thankfully brought me in the last 1/10 of a mile or so. I crossed in excess of 2 1/2 hours. Uggghhhhh..... so this year, I had some time to make up and some demons to ditch.
Kirk was doing the full marathon this year and I figured we'd be good pace partners to start. We stayed together for the first 3 miles or so and then he inevitably took off. His stride was comfortable and easy and I figured he'd have a very good shot at cracking the top 10 (I think he ended around 12th overall). I wondered if I'd have as good a day trying to bury the fatigued ghost from last year. We had driven the course the night before which helped immensely. I'm not a watch-wearing guy or a techno-looney (like most runners I know), so knowing landmarks (the pavement to dirt transition, the forest road cattle guard, etc.) was invaluable. The ascent up was comfortable; I stayed in a comfortable Zone 2-3 and hit the turnaround at roughly 1:11-1:12 (if I heard the guy in front of me correctly). I thought that a 48-49-minute descent over the last 6.6 miles would be possible to crack 2 hours, but this being a tune-up to gauge fitness and progress for my 2 ultimate goals (the SDU in Fruita in April and the 50K Sage Burner in Gunnison in June), I did not feel this was the time to fly. I was happy. It was a great day and I was thinking more about how fortunate I am to be out here at 9,400' in March, in shorts, with my lungs and heart working slightly overtime, but all told in sync and in rhythm.
I descended relatively easily, though pushing myself somewhat to make sure my effort was sustained and even. And I did NOT want to get passed at all on the down. I turned that into my goal and to pick off the 5 runners that had passed me at my uphill pee break. I passed one of them around mile 10 with the other four in my sights, but to no avail. We all seemed to be pushing the 7:30-ish pace. But noone passed me from mile 5 through the end. Truly, the minor victories of a race are internal. At least in my eyes.
As I crossed the line at the 2:01:10 mark (a PR by over 7 minutes!!!) in Riverside Park, local Jon McManus handed me a very tastefully done Finisher's notecard with some local history and anther gracious volunteer grabbed my tag as my hands decided to not grip that little piece of paper required to rip. Wow. I was woozy. I then saw Kirk's wife Aspen and their sweet little boy Nick walking towards me. I was so delirious, I exclaimed, "Hey Luke!!!" Luke is my dear nephew who was 1,900 miles away in New York. I guess I was slightly hallucinating. I realized my silly error and apologized, assuring Aspen that it was the highest of compliments to think I was looking at my dear nephew. That strange wooziness turned into an afternoon-long runner's high. Sweet.
Saturday, March 15, 2008 proved to be a great day. For me, hopefully for all who were out and about. And next year, 2009, I have my sights firmly set on doing the full marathon up to Turret.
Thanks to Chaffee County Runner's Club for once again putting on a spectacular event.
High, and fun, running,
Dave
REWIND: Two years ago in 2006 was the inaugural "Run Through Time." I had been training with one of the local half-marathon training groups from Fast Forward Sports as they prepared for the Canyonlands Half Marathon. It was my attempt at understanding myself as a runner and determining my capabilities. After a month or so, I realized I could do this distance. So I went to sign up. Too late, all sold out. DOH!!! So, my quest to find an alternate half marathon led me to Salida, CO that March for the inaugural Run Through Time. I finished that year in 2:08:38, 26th overall out of 88 starters.
Last year, I was coming off 2 straight weeks of field work in Utah and felt pretty tired on my drive down the day before. The morning of was not too much different than normal. The start at 9am was prompt, and by about 9:05 up and over the first small hill, I knew I was in trouble; I was miserable. The stomach cramps started around mile 4 but subsided by the turnaround at mile 6.5. They returned with a vengeance around mile 11. As I came down the final homestretch, I was doubling over and Kirk thankfully brought me in the last 1/10 of a mile or so. I crossed in excess of 2 1/2 hours. Uggghhhhh..... so this year, I had some time to make up and some demons to ditch.
Kirk was doing the full marathon this year and I figured we'd be good pace partners to start. We stayed together for the first 3 miles or so and then he inevitably took off. His stride was comfortable and easy and I figured he'd have a very good shot at cracking the top 10 (I think he ended around 12th overall). I wondered if I'd have as good a day trying to bury the fatigued ghost from last year. We had driven the course the night before which helped immensely. I'm not a watch-wearing guy or a techno-looney (like most runners I know), so knowing landmarks (the pavement to dirt transition, the forest road cattle guard, etc.) was invaluable. The ascent up was comfortable; I stayed in a comfortable Zone 2-3 and hit the turnaround at roughly 1:11-1:12 (if I heard the guy in front of me correctly). I thought that a 48-49-minute descent over the last 6.6 miles would be possible to crack 2 hours, but this being a tune-up to gauge fitness and progress for my 2 ultimate goals (the SDU in Fruita in April and the 50K Sage Burner in Gunnison in June), I did not feel this was the time to fly. I was happy. It was a great day and I was thinking more about how fortunate I am to be out here at 9,400' in March, in shorts, with my lungs and heart working slightly overtime, but all told in sync and in rhythm.
I descended relatively easily, though pushing myself somewhat to make sure my effort was sustained and even. And I did NOT want to get passed at all on the down. I turned that into my goal and to pick off the 5 runners that had passed me at my uphill pee break. I passed one of them around mile 10 with the other four in my sights, but to no avail. We all seemed to be pushing the 7:30-ish pace. But noone passed me from mile 5 through the end. Truly, the minor victories of a race are internal. At least in my eyes.
As I crossed the line at the 2:01:10 mark (a PR by over 7 minutes!!!) in Riverside Park, local Jon McManus handed me a very tastefully done Finisher's notecard with some local history and anther gracious volunteer grabbed my tag as my hands decided to not grip that little piece of paper required to rip. Wow. I was woozy. I then saw Kirk's wife Aspen and their sweet little boy Nick walking towards me. I was so delirious, I exclaimed, "Hey Luke!!!" Luke is my dear nephew who was 1,900 miles away in New York. I guess I was slightly hallucinating. I realized my silly error and apologized, assuring Aspen that it was the highest of compliments to think I was looking at my dear nephew. That strange wooziness turned into an afternoon-long runner's high. Sweet.
Saturday, March 15, 2008 proved to be a great day. For me, hopefully for all who were out and about. And next year, 2009, I have my sights firmly set on doing the full marathon up to Turret.
Thanks to Chaffee County Runner's Club for once again putting on a spectacular event.
High, and fun, running,
Dave
Sunday, March 16, 2008
And back again.....
OK now. For sure, this time I mean it. I am back BABY!!! (said in the vein of George's father on Seinfeld). Work trips are history, recovery has almost taken place, and life as I know it is about back to "normal."
Thanks for your patience during my hiatus. Look for several posts and a slight page upgrade over the next few weeks.
Cheers,
Dave
Thanks for your patience during my hiatus. Look for several posts and a slight page upgrade over the next few weeks.
Cheers,
Dave
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Still here.....
..... I hit that all-perfect, all-knowing perfect storm of blogging and running: I got sick, work's been crazy, and oh yeah - not to mention the writer's block. Oh, the writer's block. I sit at the computer staring at the screen like a jackal without prey (I know, poor analogy - see what I mean?).
Apparently my gray matter has taken a hit in addition to my alveoli. Hopefully it'll all return soon. But first I gotta stop hacking!!! Which is why I missed my first 2 scheduled races this year - Frosty's and the Screamin' Snowman Crap. Anyway, this weekend is a beautiful Hall Ranch run. Perhaps I'll hack up that final bit of particulate matter that's been inhibiting my full lung capacity lately and be on my merry way. And be back on my merry blog. Cheerio!
Apparently my gray matter has taken a hit in addition to my alveoli. Hopefully it'll all return soon. But first I gotta stop hacking!!! Which is why I missed my first 2 scheduled races this year - Frosty's and the Screamin' Snowman Crap. Anyway, this weekend is a beautiful Hall Ranch run. Perhaps I'll hack up that final bit of particulate matter that's been inhibiting my full lung capacity lately and be on my merry way. And be back on my merry blog. Cheerio!
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Race Schedule - First Half 2008
Well folks, for those who are interested, here is some semblance of my race/run schedule for 2008. Subject to revision after revision, of course.
Sunday, January 20 - Frosty's Frozen 5, Chatfield in Littleton, CO, distance undecided, probably 10M
Sunday, February 3 - The Screamin' Snowman, Eldora Ski Area, 5K
Saturday, March 15 - A Run Through Time, Salida, CO, 13.1 miles
Saturday, April 19 - Desert R.A.T.S. Trail Running Festival, Fruita, CO, 25 miles
Saturday, May 10 - Balarat Trail Run, click on "Balarat Trail Run" left-hand side of page, Jamestown, CO, 6M
Monday, May 26 - Bolder Boulder 10K, Boulder, CO (if I'm bored - otherwise, just a willing and eager spectator. This is just NOT my distance, but it is one of the most fun races around).
Saturday, June 7 - Sage Burner 50K, Gunnison, CO
Sunday, January 20 - Frosty's Frozen 5, Chatfield in Littleton, CO, distance undecided, probably 10M
Sunday, February 3 - The Screamin' Snowman, Eldora Ski Area, 5K
Saturday, March 15 - A Run Through Time, Salida, CO, 13.1 miles
Saturday, April 19 - Desert R.A.T.S. Trail Running Festival, Fruita, CO, 25 miles
Saturday, May 10 - Balarat Trail Run, click on "Balarat Trail Run" left-hand side of page, Jamestown, CO, 6M
Monday, May 26 - Bolder Boulder 10K, Boulder, CO (if I'm bored - otherwise, just a willing and eager spectator. This is just NOT my distance, but it is one of the most fun races around).
Saturday, June 7 - Sage Burner 50K, Gunnison, CO
Friday, January 11, 2008
Do we really need studies....
..... to show us THIS or THIS or THIS or THIS one from 1997???
Enough already. I understand in this new world order and fast-paced world we now enjoy as our own, some view their cell phone as a necessity. Fine, just don't use it while you're driving. No, you're really not "just as good a driver" while using a cell phone behind the wheel. I took the bus from Boulder to Denver for almost 6 years while suffering through my last term of employment and the observations I made from the relative safety of a bus were frightening. You, and that one phone call there, are really not that important when you're endangering a dozen or more people around you on the roads.
Just hang up and drive - click here to get a bumper sticker stating just that from one of my favorite talk show duos.
Click here for a comprehensive list of current laws and/or restrictions by state. Call your local and state representatives and get cell phones off the ears and out of the hands from that not-so-good-a-driver-anymore. And once again, just to illustrate that the US is chicken shit when it comes to this kind of thing, we are well behind the curve of the rest of the world on yet another public safety/human health issue.
Enough already. I understand in this new world order and fast-paced world we now enjoy as our own, some view their cell phone as a necessity. Fine, just don't use it while you're driving. No, you're really not "just as good a driver" while using a cell phone behind the wheel. I took the bus from Boulder to Denver for almost 6 years while suffering through my last term of employment and the observations I made from the relative safety of a bus were frightening. You, and that one phone call there, are really not that important when you're endangering a dozen or more people around you on the roads.
Just hang up and drive - click here to get a bumper sticker stating just that from one of my favorite talk show duos.
Click here for a comprehensive list of current laws and/or restrictions by state. Call your local and state representatives and get cell phones off the ears and out of the hands from that not-so-good-a-driver-anymore. And once again, just to illustrate that the US is chicken shit when it comes to this kind of thing, we are well behind the curve of the rest of the world on yet another public safety/human health issue.
Insomnia, Part 2
I suppose this inevitable condition that seems to crop up every so often is unavoidable? Or is it? I dunno. This time, no coherent thoughts or pressing concerns struck as I lay awake at 2:15am. Still fairly relaxed from our trip back east, work is work (read: BLECH!), we had a good dinner, got to bed before 10pm. WTF?!? And here it is, 6am and time to "get up." Wait a tic, I've been up damnit. Now, I'm supposed to function all day? Good luck with that. TGIF folks. TGIF.
A Return to New York City
Once upon a time, I didn't have to travel to get to the Big Apple. Just a simple train ride on the Long Island Railroad from the Mineola station. Last week, the lady and I did travel back east from Colorado to see the family. Now that they've moved up to the Hudson Valley, we have the easier arrival at the Albany, NY airport than one of the Big 3 Metro airports (read: hell by air). But on Friday, January 4, we boarded the Amtrak in Rhinecliff on the 8:56 and headed down to Penn Station. The wife gently asked me to see the City "through my eyes." In other words, fresh, expecting eyes. She grew up in Syracuse and has not spent any appreciable time in Manhattan or any of New York City. Years ago, I became a bit negative about the hectic nature of the City, people on top of people, craziness abound, etc. So, I moved to Colorado. And this particular day, I said, yes - I will look at the place with a new outlook.
As so we walked out of Penn Station through the hallowed halls of Madison Square Garden. Ahhhhh, the memories came rushing back. Except, what was this? Fun thoughts. Positive reminiscence. The Cult at the Felt Forum (1987-ish?), the NY Rangers' Stanley Cup, Dunkin Donuts (as always, better than Krispy Kreme), REAL NY slices........ Could it be? Perhaps, but only the day would tell.
We walked out onto 7th Ave. Ahhhhhh, the City. We headed for Macy's as we were both a bit famished and Veener could not comprehend the concept of an 8-story department store. The highlight of this was not the "stuff" - but the old wooden escalators. We rode all 8 stories down these old gems and then proceeded through the delightful "fragrance" section - I forgot the grandeur of the chandeliers lining the ceiling. Freakin' cool. Having had enough of consumerism for the morn, we headed out towards Herald Square. The rush of people was overrun by the delight of the cold January air. We walked through Bryant Park and over to The New York Public Library and its incredible entrance. Wow, I forgot how incredible that facility is. Marble galore, a grand third floor rotunda and reading room, and more nostalgia and beauty than is available in any building of recent times.
Next up, a walk down to Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas Tree in daylight hours and the Saks Fifth Avenue Holiday Window Display. Very cool.
We headed over to St. Patrick's Cathedral. And even being a "recovering Catholic," this place is magnificent. It's a place to worship and for worshipping. Of course, in the days when the Church truly served a higher purpose, such structures were possible. To build this kind of architectural marvel in this current day and age in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world..... probably not so feasible anymore. Hopefully, places such as these will be preserved forever.
Now, over to the original thought on this sojourn: Serendipity 3. Unfortunately, there was an hour wait and we were starving. SO, we crossed the street and split a really freakin' good $22. calzone at Patsy's. Yummy. But there was still ice cream to be had, so back to Serendipity 3 we went. After 2 hot fudge sundaes serving the proper purpose of providing a much-anticipated tummyache, we set back towards Grand Central Station as our day was growing short. We headed over to catch a quick view of the south side of Central Park and to see the Rockefeller Center tree once more, this time in the dark. While skating was not to be had this fine day, it was nicely festive throughout the area. Then, over to Grand Central to catch a Metro North up to Poughkeepsie to finish out our day.
I'll tell ya - it was a delightful day in a phenomenal city. While I am not a city guy and certainly could never live there, there is something to be said about history; various reminders of culture and society long past (long gone?). But to be able to experience it in this modern age is something special. Will we be going back? Sure. But who knows when? Only time will tell.
As so we walked out of Penn Station through the hallowed halls of Madison Square Garden. Ahhhhh, the memories came rushing back. Except, what was this? Fun thoughts. Positive reminiscence. The Cult at the Felt Forum (1987-ish?), the NY Rangers' Stanley Cup, Dunkin Donuts (as always, better than Krispy Kreme), REAL NY slices........ Could it be? Perhaps, but only the day would tell.
We walked out onto 7th Ave. Ahhhhhh, the City. We headed for Macy's as we were both a bit famished and Veener could not comprehend the concept of an 8-story department store. The highlight of this was not the "stuff" - but the old wooden escalators. We rode all 8 stories down these old gems and then proceeded through the delightful "fragrance" section - I forgot the grandeur of the chandeliers lining the ceiling. Freakin' cool. Having had enough of consumerism for the morn, we headed out towards Herald Square. The rush of people was overrun by the delight of the cold January air. We walked through Bryant Park and over to The New York Public Library and its incredible entrance. Wow, I forgot how incredible that facility is. Marble galore, a grand third floor rotunda and reading room, and more nostalgia and beauty than is available in any building of recent times.
Next up, a walk down to Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas Tree in daylight hours and the Saks Fifth Avenue Holiday Window Display. Very cool.
We headed over to St. Patrick's Cathedral. And even being a "recovering Catholic," this place is magnificent. It's a place to worship and for worshipping. Of course, in the days when the Church truly served a higher purpose, such structures were possible. To build this kind of architectural marvel in this current day and age in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world..... probably not so feasible anymore. Hopefully, places such as these will be preserved forever.
Now, over to the original thought on this sojourn: Serendipity 3. Unfortunately, there was an hour wait and we were starving. SO, we crossed the street and split a really freakin' good $22. calzone at Patsy's. Yummy. But there was still ice cream to be had, so back to Serendipity 3 we went. After 2 hot fudge sundaes serving the proper purpose of providing a much-anticipated tummyache, we set back towards Grand Central Station as our day was growing short. We headed over to catch a quick view of the south side of Central Park and to see the Rockefeller Center tree once more, this time in the dark. While skating was not to be had this fine day, it was nicely festive throughout the area. Then, over to Grand Central to catch a Metro North up to Poughkeepsie to finish out our day.
I'll tell ya - it was a delightful day in a phenomenal city. While I am not a city guy and certainly could never live there, there is something to be said about history; various reminders of culture and society long past (long gone?). But to be able to experience it in this modern age is something special. Will we be going back? Sure. But who knows when? Only time will tell.
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