don't sacrifice the gift

Just over a week ago, the last of my dad's ski buddies (and a great friend to our family) went to join my dad on The Mountain of the Great Beyond. Two days later, me and Mr. Blueberry Pancakes went skiing, and as we were putting on our ski boots in the parking lot under the sunshine, my shoulders felt heavy, my chest caved in as my chin dropped, and I started sobbing with the realization that all of the men who taught me to ski as a kid and showed me how to have fun on the mountain - they are all gone now. They don't get any more days like this, and I don't get any more days of any kind with them. They're all gone. 

I shocked myself when I told Mr. Blueberry Pancakes that I was SO SAD. Equally shocked that I had vocalized an unpleasant emotion, his face crumpled with worry, and he wrapped his arms around me and said we didn't have to ski. I let my less-audible tears sop his shoulder for a bit and then I picked my head up. As I pulled away, I said no, we're alive, and we can, so I'd rather go be sad on skis and a chairlift than on the couch. So we finished buckling our boots, gathered our skis, poles and lunch, and headed for the base area. 

Mr. BP loves a challenge on the mountain. With my tri training, skiing is something I do on my recovery day, so lately I've been more inclined to easy-ski and cruise around the more mellow trails on the front side. As we were on the bus to the base, I asked DH what kind of day he wanted, and of course he said he wanted to head to the back. I said I need a warmup, and I'm not interested in doing the harder bowls, but I'll go over to the slightly less difficult area and if he wanted more of a challenge, I'm happy to meet him at the end of the day. He actually wanted to ski the same area, so after a couple fun cruiser runs down the front of the mountain, we turned our skis toward the backside and were greeted with mounds of great powder! 

Heaven on earth - Copper Mountain

We had such a good time playing around in that soft snow that for the first time in ages (maybe since we were married?) we never went inside - we even ate our packed lunches on the lift! Toward the end of the day, we were riding the chair back up and hoping for one more powder run, but we knew we were cutting it close. We reached the top and whooped as we saw the area was still open, so we quickly skied over to it and hopped in just ahead of the ski patrollers. They pulled the rope up behind us to close it for the day, meaning we now had the powder fields to ourselves for our last run on it! We took our time skiing down, enjoying the views, the snow and each other. As Mr. BP took this photo of me, I said I was still sad there would be no more days like this with The Gone, but I was happy that we could enjoy this day together. I told him I was certain that THEY put in the request for US to have THIS beautiful powder day, and I was so happy we had not sacrificed the gift. We were the last ones on the chairlift out, and then we blissfully cruised down the front side of the mountain as the sun dipped toward the horizon. 

The following day was the fifteen-year anniversary of when my dad went down, before he died almost two weeks later. This part of March is always a sad hard time for me, with varying degrees of difficulty every year. But this year I'm happy that Dad now has all his ski buddies with him, I'm happy I inherited his love for the mountains, I'm grateful for the foundation he built so I could enjoy this life, and so very thankful for my health and that I prioritize it to keep skiing. And I'm super thankful that all those ski guys in The Beyond made sure we had a powder day. I had an extra glass of wine and three unplanned thin mints cookies that night, which is OK as a blip. But I didn't want that nonsense to continue over the next two weeks, so I've been mindful to take a little extra care of me and get all my training workouts done here on The Road to Oregon. Like me, my dad loved to ride a bicycle, so it was very nice that he made sure I was gifted TWO outdoor riding days here in Colorado last week as well - that definitely helped my spirits. 

Today is a rest day, one I will take completely off from tri training, on the end of my recovery week. Yesterday I was telling my sister how glorious recovery weeks are, and how thrilled I was that I only had to do a one hour run and she says, "Oh that sounds like a nightmare to me, right now." We both burst out laughing as it really is a matter of perspective - six months ago this would have sounded like a scary nightmare to me, too! But here I am, and I'm just happy I can do it. I actually ran over six miles in that hour, which is a very big feat for me, and I felt (and still feel) GREAT! Today I'm about to walk the doggies around in the sunshine, Mr. BP is headed to the rec center for a swim workout, and we'll do something fun together afterward. It's almost warm enough to ride bikes to a brewery or something.... hmmmmmm... 

Happy Sunday, friends. Life is short, go play outside with the people you love. 

best run ever

Last Saturday I had a ten mile run on my training calendar, and all week leading up to it I was intimidated by the number. Double digits. Ten miles sounded very long and very difficult. When the weekend came, for a Saturday in February in Colorado, it was a super nice day for a run. Some of the others in the training group had their long run scheduled for Sunday, and my coach had said I could swap my weekend workouts to run with them if I'd like. I really didn't want one more day of mental anguish, so I decided to just go for it as planned on Saturday. 

I put off starting the run until late afternoon, having calculated the time I needed to have enough daylight to finish... if I finished. The workout instructions were to run the first seven miles very easy, then pick it up with descending splits for each of the last three miles. Well, three miles into the run at my very easy pace, I was still 'in my head' about how long and difficult this run was going to be by the time I got to TEN MILES. But somewhere in that third mile, I acknowledged to myself that I felt better than I had on the first mile. As I passed the halfway point, I thought 'Hey, this really is OK.' At mile six, I realized this run is totally doable, so I asked myself what was it that I wasn't trusting, earlier? My coach gave me the workout, she knows what I can do. I haven't had any pain during training so far. I've been running almost nine miles, why did adding a little more than one mile scare me so much? What didn't I trust? I had no answer. I kept running. 

During mile seven, I backed off my pace a bit to gear up for the faster final miles. A few minutes before starting that first faster mile, I knew that I was GOING to finish this run strong, with descending splits as directed. I picked up my pace a bit, ahead of the plan. Let's do this. 

Mile 8: HERE WE GO. Whoa, not that fast, you have to pick it up again for miles nine and ten! But holy moly, I feel great!

Mile 9: Ok, pick it up a little more now, GOOD - now hang on to this pace! Ugh, this mile is hard. But hey, I can do hard things, and I am DOING THIS.

Mile 10: GO!!! This is IT, strong finish! I picked up the pace again, I held on, and before I had time to process anything else that last mile was DONE, and I ran it at a faster pace than what I would run for a 5K.

I turned to start my cooldown. The sky over the mountains hovered in the faint yellows of early sunset. I couldn't help but yell to the heavens and everyone else in the park within earshot that "I DID IT!" I had run ten miles, getting faster each of the last three miles, NOTHING hurt, and I as I breathed deeply, I acknowledged that I actually felt fantastic. I started laughing and I burst into tears.

I'd love to tell you that I spent hours on full recovery and had perfect nutrition afterward. I did stretch, a lot, so that was good, and I had leftover rotisserie chicken, veggies and pretzels as my recovery meal - also good! But then we went to a birthday party for a friend, which turned out to be super fun, with great food and wine. I ate back all my calories and then some. Some days are like that. It doesn't mean I'm not a healthy person. It doesn't mean I'm not working toward my goals. I realize now that I probably should have eaten a little more post-run, because I was absolutely starving by the time we got to the restaurant. Noted. The day after that run, my legs felt good, I had a relaxing recovery swim, and just kept going with my training. 

Yesterday I ran eleven miles. I bested myself on the overall run, my pace descended for each of the last five miles and my final mile was twenty-four seconds faster this week over last. This is fairly common in early training, but even so, it's wonderful to see. I am very happy to tell you my post-workout eating improved immensely! Today I feel great, and I really am just so very grateful I can do this. It is truly a GIFT. 

I hope you are having a great healthy weekend. I'm coming up on my hard training week, so today will be spent relaxing and prepping to GO GET IT. You go get yours, too. ;)