Going away west, coming home east

It’s been that way since I can remember. 

Even after years of living in Colorado and Arizona, I always think of my home as New Hampshire and my home airport Boston. 

From 2004 to 2012 my home airport was Denver and often confused it by saying Boston when I began traveling frequently. 

Today I’m on my first trip back to Colorado for the Leadville Marathon and to spend time with Mary, Whitney and George; three, true forever friends.  

It’s been over two years since I left and I feel like I’m coming home.

But Colorado wasn’t my original western place despite Denver being the first city I moved to at 17 with a plan to live there permanently. I came home after a few days. My first western dream-place was originally Montana, a place with far fewer people and more wildlife; or so I had heard and experienced with frequent trips in my 20s. 

I dreamed of the west for a decade and tried to figure out a way to get there; I was too scared to go without a job. In 2004 I finagled a way to move to Steamboat for my job – so Colorado was chosen for me. Almost every year while living in Steamboat or Granby, I thought of moving home but never acted upon it. Then I had a chance to move to Tucson and escape cold, mountain town living, essentially running away from a place that I thought would be my forever-place. I took the Tucson job and moved to the southwest knowing noone. 

Colorado had its grasp on me and three years later I moved back to the place I left, for a job that is my favorite occupation to date: editor of a newspaper.  Denver was my home airport again.

Just under two years later I moved back to New Hampshire; for many reasons. In reality, running away, running back. I’m a runner; a self inflicted label I want to change. 

I run in two-to-three year increments; a pattern I’ve followed all my life. The thing is – I’m not afraid of endings and I’m not scared of beginnings; it’s the quiet times of staying still and stagnant that frighten me the most. It’s two years into this stint back in New Hampshire and finally feel like I’m getting my footing back; and being the person that is joyful, engaged in outdoor pursuits and reaching athletic goals. 

This feeling started with a bike, a mountain bike. Well, it started, really, when I got into the Leadville 100 Run. To finish this race would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I wanted that feeling to cross that finish line. I started with so many baby steps and here I am two month before the race prepared for the next cycle of training. I’m so ready and feeling confident. But it was the mountain bike that reminded me of joy – the joy of downhill riding and laughing. You don’t really get that joy from running, or at least I don’t. Mountain biking teaches you about living in the moment. Running is more mental, calculating. 

Of all the races I could’ve entered or been excited about, why Leadville? Why did the sequence of events happen that led me on this journey back to Colorado? Why did Colorado get chosen for me again? I think it comes back to going away west, coming home east. It was the opposite for Wallace Stegner who wrote that he was born a westerner and had been coming home west his entire life. Maybe Leadville is my coming home west – the fulfillment of the hero’s journey where you go out on adventures and then try to find your way home.

My favorite thing to hear on my phone when mapping a destination: Arrived

Leadville 100 Training, Week 11 update

Just 26 miles this week. Yickes. I spent the weekend in Maryland supporting Mark during his Eagleman 70.3.

Cambridge, MD
My favorite Instagram Story from the Portside Restaurant where dogs are allowed and the crab cakes are freaking awesome!
Mark, Ironman Crab
I love the crab crawling up the MDot.

Maryland is beautiful and we got to discover Easton and Cambridge on the Chesapeake Bay. It was great to come south and see this gorgeous landscape. But now it’s time to get back to reality.

I’m a bit behind on my training heading into Week 10 of the 100 mile training plan but seeing the athletes on the Eagleman course is truly inspiring; all ages and body shapes. I actually have been thinking about, maybe, doing an Ironman next year. Maybe. Ironman just announced they are bringing back Ironman St. George that ended many years ago due to dangerous swim conditions in the reservoir. I had such a great time at St. George 70.3 (two-times) despite hot conditions the first time and frigid conditions the second time. Or maybe Lake Placid, since it’s so close.

I’m actually more excited about off-road triathlons and I’m thinking about Mont Tremblant Xterra in September. Maybe. I just get so excited about all the racing possibilities. Back to ultra running……

This week I’m going to try to get some miles on my feet and bike before flying to Denver on Friday. I can’t wait to see how my body responds to 10,000 feet and to hang out with Mary, Whitney and George! I really have missed Colorado!

I WILL be Leadville Tough!

Repost / Mid-year goal review

This photo is so true. The original post from December 2018 really struck a chord. Seriously, my goals of running a 50 miler and 100 miler started years ago. I think the first time I thought about a 50 was 2014 when I crashed on my tri bike and decided to only run.

I signed up for a 50 miler and then couldn’t do the training.

DNS (Did not show) – however, not my first DNS.

Now, 5 years later I finished my first 50 miler and I’m seriously ready for my first 100 – all in the same year.

Here’s to finally meeting goals and my new mantra for 2019

Take  each adventure as it comes and be open to all possibilities.

Leadville Training – Week 12 Recap

I didn’t write a weekly recap last week, Week 13 since I did a race report for Pineland. So here is the update on training for Leadville that is in – OMG – 12 weeks!

This week I’ve been thinking about my first 50 mile finish and what was going through my brain as I sat on the picnic table at the finish line. I thought for the first time that maybe, just maybe, I will finish the 100 mile race. I felt like my body adapted well to 11 hours of hilly running despite nagging knee pain during most of the race. I liked having a pacer, which I’ve never had before. I really think that as I build up mileage in this next weeks, I might just do this.

I took it easy this week and had no expectations of mileage despite knowing I should try to run 47 miles according to the training plan. I really wanted to give my knee a break so I limited running and added more biking and hiking. The plan worked because today, Sunday, I have no more knee pain.

One of the things I needed to start doing to really prep for Leadville was running with poles.  I ran on June 1 with poles for the first time when run/hiking Whiteface. The poles got in the way a lot but they helped take some pressure off my knees. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Another thing is I need to start running at night and I’m not looking forward to that.

Next week I’m going for a 40 miles week versus a 60 mile week since I want to taper a little bit for the Leadville Marathon on June 15, then it’s 3 weeks of 70 mile weeks. I seriously can’t wait for these high mileage weeks:

I’m also mountain biking more to work my core and to make the legs stronger. It’s also great for cross training. And, oops, I got a bit sign up happy and registered for the Top Notch Triathlon in August in Franconia Notch. (see the picture of swimming in Echo Lake in the top photo) I wanted to do the triathlon for so long. I didn’t have a mountain bike so I couldn’t sign up for the last two years. Now, I can do it.

I heard about this race from a novel, Before You Know Kindness by Chris Bohjalian. I read his book in 2006 when I lived in Colorado. The story is set in northern New Hampshire about a family that spends their summers near Franconia Notch. The book is about complicated families and the ramifications of bad decisions and accidents. But what has stuck in my head is the ending that takes place on the slopes of Cannon Mountain as the family members compete in the Top Notch relay triathlon. I have never forgotten that story and how Bohjalian chooses to end the story on top of a New Hampshire mountain. It’s a story about forgiveness and acceptance – something I still need to figure out with my complicated family.

Miles this week: 28 with hiking

Vertical: 4,366

Average resting heart rate: 47

Hiking Whiteface, what cures hopelessness

This morning I head up to the White Mountains to hike Mount Whiteface. I attempted her early this spring and turned around at the granite ledges because I seriously thought I would die. It was snowy and icy and I brought my dog. I wanted to live. So I turned around.

Now, June 1 I hike Blueberry Ledge solo. I want the peak. I am not sure what the day will hold for me; maybe Passaconway, too. But I don’t have a plan except to bag Whiteface.

The trailhead has a little history for me. Back in 1988 my boyfriend at the time took me to Sandwich and Wonalancet for a second-hike-ever to Whiteface. He told me that he wanted to be buried in Wonalancet because he loved the place so much. Now, so many years later I had a first kiss in the trailhead with a guy I really liked. Hmmphf. The mountains. The place where I felt reborn after not having any goals and not knowing what my life would be like after high school graduation – the most confusing time of my life. I feel for high school graduates.

June 1, 2019 – I’m running/hiking Blueberry Ledge for the third time in my life and I’m feeling great. One week after running 50 miles I feel like a million bucks….. Until I get to the ledges where I turned around a month ago. It is so steep and scary and I feel at any moment I will fall to my death. Okay, a little dramatic, but I’m not in love with this trail or this mountain in any way, shape or form. I somehow manage to scramble to the top and I’m pissed. The trail diverges and I don’t know where to go. I go left and then it doesn’t feel right. The view is amazing but I’m distracted. I take off my pack and look at the map and I have to decide where to go. I’m not going back the way I came; certain death. I decide to go the Rollins Trail and just go home. I know I should summit Passaconway, I’m so close. I’ll wait and see.

But my mood is dark. I’m mad. I’m pissed. It has more to do than the hike and certain death; I’m just mad.

I follow the trail and it meanders into dark, moody places along the ridge. I run when I can; I want out. I think about Leadville and how I will feel running downhill. Will there be as many rocks and roots? There will definitely be more people. I stop and eat and finally take a picture.

I’m praying and hoping the mountains change my mood but I’m mad. I want the mountains to change my mood; I want to be happy and hopeful – but I’m not. There are no people on this trail. I finally reach the trail junction where I can head to Passaconway or go down Dicey’s Mill Trail.

I chose home.

I run as much as I can and finish 9.7 miles back to my car. The parking lot is overfilling with cars. I only saw 5 people the entire day.

I actually came to do what I set out to but in the back of my mind it would’ve been good to get Passaconaway.

I stink. I’m mad. I drive home.

I walk down to the Concord Co-Op for dinner. My heart hurts for a million different reasons. I feel like a teenager whose heart is broken and my stomach aches. As I enter the store I hear the song, Let It Be from the Beatles.

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree

There will be an answer, let it be

I buy my food and walk home. I hear a line from a book I read so many times, so many years ago: Running From Safety, that reminds me –  take me out of the ball game, tell me it’s over, and I get instant perspective.

The anger, frustration is gone, gone. Instant perspective is all that I needed.

While the mountains didn’t cure me today, I’m still certain they will.