Top o' the mornin'

A crystalline wonderland with easy footing in pre-dawn hush.

A simply loverly run.

In a fog

Spectacularly bright jacket - along North Loup River fog in Nebraska Sandhills - June 23, 2007

Quite the run yesterday... I left the house at 5:30 a.m.-ish. Twas a bit chilly (20s) and smelled like rain. Within a half-mile, swirls of fog were rolling past (a rarity in Boulder). Within another quarter-mile, crystals filled the air...not quite snow but thicker than air. Then it was back to the rain smell followed by fog so thick I could see headlights on cars coming toward me - but not the cars. All the while hoping that my glo-bright yellow jacket was giving fair warning to anyone coming my way in this pre-dawn haze.

Our grand rendezvous point for our long weekend run was out at the Boulder Reservoir. It was a perfect location for the conditions!
The fog had settled on the rez - which also was playing host to several CU crew teams this early morning.
It looked rather like an old WWII movie with ships peaking out of the haze as they snuck about the water.




Amongst it all, a bald eagle watched over the morning's festivities.

As morning progressed, something within me seemed to awaken as the fog cleared. We were finishing our run on the last few miles of the Boulder Backroads marathon course and I felt myself kicking into a higher gear...something I used to like to do as I finished marathons in the pre-1400-mile-run days. This March day, I decided to find out if I still had a strong finish left in me (versus my more typical slog of late). And there it was: high(ish) knees, long(ish) stride, a bit of a reserve of power to draw on - and willing to be drawn upon. A grand finish to a three-hour run!

Attitude adjustment

Yesterday I was doing a tempo workout with Joe and couldn't believe how excruciatingly slow I was. 'Most every time I go out for a run, I'm passed by whomever else happens to be trotting by. And lately that's been bugging me.
So, today, I was running home from my volunteer job and got passed again. And again.
And I felt the self-irritation begin to rise - but then I was distracted by the sound of a woodpecker, then the sight of the pattern of snow over a manhole cover, then the silence that suddenly enveloped me as I went onto a creek-side path, then the sound of water trickling under the ice... ...and I remembered the crocuses I had discovered poking up beside the path we were running during that tempo workout yesterday, and the dime, quarter and nickel I had spotted over a three block span as I ran home from the tempo, the flattened dollar bill that I rescued from an icy tire track this morning, and the fresh tracks I left in the newly fallen snow as I started my run.

So why be disgusted by a lack of speed, I say, since it's that leisurely pace that offers up so much enjoyment as I meander my way through the world!

Mural along creek path underpass

The lamb and the lion

At 6 a.m., March 1 (just yesterday), I left the house in shorts for a 15 mile run on dry trails, sun, warm, yes even sweating by the end. And on that same afternoon (again, just yesterday), I - along with what looked to be all the rest of Boulder's population - was out and about reveling in 70+ degree weather. Runners, walkers, cyclists, tennis players, skateboarders, babies in buggies, motorcyclists, bareheaded drivers in convertibles, crocuses. Everybody was popping out into the sunshine!

And today....well here are the pictures from this morning's hushed wintry run: