When in Doubt, Go West

Wolf Creek Ski Area
Near Pagosa Springs, Colorado



In California, they like to brag about being able to ski and surf in the same day. I never did that -- mostly because we decided to move to Colorado when I finally learned to ski. But how about skiing and headstands in the Sand Dunes on the same day?

J and I like to try out at least one new ski area each year, and we had our eye on Wolf Creek. Why not? It often gets the most snow in Colorado, coming in regular multi-foot dumps. But, it doesn't have a base village or the amenities of the mega-resorts. Even better.

Oh, the other problem is that it's a 7.5 hour drive. But, hey, we have all weekend, right? (Note: *This* is where I 'use my miles.' While I'll happily applaud anyone who simply doesn't drive much at all, I just want to make sure my driving is purposeful and not 'silly' -- that is, if I'm in the car, it's because I'm stoked about where I'm going; but it's not a necessity of day-to-day life). We had been there once before, in summer, also on a 'normal' 2-day weekend, in which we camped, visited Creede, Lake City, Mesa Verde National Park, the hot springs in Pagosa, and Durango; waited for me to ride a century in Durango; then took the long way home through Paonia.

Suffice it to say, the San Juans are awesome, so we want to pack as much in when we get out there.

This time, we made stayed at the "First Inn" in Pagosa, which also lets us buy discounted lift tickets. Wonderfully simple rooms and breakfast, a hot tub, and great management! "Lou," in fact, is a local and part-time prospector; or is he a part-time manager and full-time prospector? After filling up on waffles and cinammon buns on Saturday morning, we headed up to the hill, where we had a primo parking spot:



That's right, you could see the base lift from our car! The runs themselves weren't that long -- but neither were the lift lines. It was a perfect bluebird day -- bluebird weekend, in fact -- and we enjoyed our first turns of the season. Also, I had my BC skis in the car, and since it was nearby....why not? I took my BC skis on a resort for the first time ever. I never wanted to burn a full day on them, in case I was disappointed, but I had nothing to lose. As I got them out, a local guy said he had similar skis, and wanted to try his out, too, but was wondering if the waxless scales on the bottom would affect the ride too much. Only one way to find out!

Great decision, as I had a fun time on mild blues and greens, and fell a few times, as I practiced dropping a knee.

When the day was over, it was time for a soak in the hot springs. Last time, of course, it was summer, and we watched a lightning storm roll in. This time, we tried to avoid freezing our feet and slipping on ice as we headed into the first available pool, afraid to move as our hair froze on our heads. Eventually, I scoped out a path to the hottest pools, and we made our way over there. I threw in a couple dips in the river for good measure.

Next up was Pagosa Brewing company, which is actually up the hill outside of the downtown hot springs area. An outdoor fireplace gave a cozy feel to the entrance, and the restaurant itself was a bit small. It reminded me of Eske's in Taos, which was also small and cozy, but Pagosa beats Eske's with a bit better beer selection, and way better food: I would't have been able to say I had truly lived until that day in which I had a wild Pacific salmon gyro. Yum!



The next day was also perfectly clear and calm, and we decided to hit up the free ski/snowshoe trails at the base of the resort. Again, we were amazed by the ease of parking and friendliness -- this resort would be incredibly easy for skinning up in the morning from the base and earning your turns. Instead, we stuck to the bottom and enjoyed the sunshine.



It was time for the long ride back. Another brewpub was on tap in Alamosa, so we saved our hunger...but it's closed on Sunday's in winter! Drat! Instead, we found a decent Mexican restaurant to fill our bellies, and we headed east, back home, the weekend over...

Or was it? We were in Ft. Garland, it was a nice day out, and Jess hadn't been to the Sand Dunes. We planned on a separate trip there, camping, etc. some other weekend, but it was only an extra 15-20 minutes each way out of our way...why not just spend on hour or so playing on the dunes, taking a nap in the sun?

Or do headstands?


As hoped, Jess's brief taste of the sand dunes made her want to go back again...with a sled next time!

Thunder Pass: Another RMNP Backdoor

Cameron Pass/Michigan Ditch to Thunder Pass
~10.5 miles ski tour




I was thankful to be off of work on a Monday, in honor of MLK Jr. Day, which I celebrated by blasting U2's "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" on the radio while speeding through the snow-free and lightly-traffic'ed Poudre Canyon, on my way up to Cameron Pass.

Thunder Pass was the destination for the day, which is down the Upper Michigan Lakes trail for a bit, and past/above American Lakes. I've been intrigued by this trail for a few years, and was looking forward to trying something new, but hadn't gone yet for a few reasons:
1. Michigan Ditch starts out flat, kinda boring (though with *fantastic* scenery) in the beginning, and is usually mobbed by families and gapers on weekends.
2. Snowmobiles share much of the early route.
3. Avy danger can be high above the lakes, though my sources suggested enough low-angle options to mitigate the risk
4. You need a State Parks pass or entry fee...OK, it's a very fair $3, but if it's crowded, it would just be another reason to go somewhere else, albeit a weak one.

So, being a weekday, it seemed like a good chance to check out a new trail this year, and avoid the weekend crowds. Plus, the warmer temps and lack of new snow in the last week or so has finally allowed this year's unstable snowpack to settle a bit, so the region was generally "Moderate" danger.

This turned out to be a great decision.

Admittedly, I'm a sucker for mountain passes. I started with mt. passes on the road bike, but you can't beat the views from many of the backcountry passes, especially along the Divide. Some of my favourite parts of RMNP, so far, have been uncrowded and unspoiled "backdoor" entrances to the park: Mummy Pass, Storm Pass, and now Thunder Pass.

So I began the flat approach on Michigan Ditch. Jess and I had started this a few years back, but we had gone on a day of low visibility and actually had to break trail. Today, though, the snow was packed into a cross-country freeway, and I was able to enjoy the early views:


A bit after the cabins, I encountered a couple of Poudre Wilderness Nordic Ranger volunteers, who told me the snow was great and packed down, and just be sure not to get confused by the meandering snowmobile tracks. Good advice, as I made extra sure to get my bearings in several open areas with diverging paths (also, watch for the occasional orange blaze on the trees_.

After a couple of miles, I entered a large clearing with lots of tracks. This is a good spot to turn around for a family snowshoe trip, or even play around with some sking, as the trail now begins to get steeper as it tacks to the west. As mentioned, the snow was essentially groomed by snowmobiles. I had to herring-bone and zig-zag a few steeper stretches, but otherwise standard cross-country skis would have managed just fine.

After 2 or 2.5 hours, I reached another large clearing, and some amazing views. I am bad at mountain names from a distance, but was happy to recognize the east side of Static Peak, as well as the unmistakable Crags. I wondered how close I was to American Lakes...until it occurred to me that they were directly underneath me (and several feet of snow), which was the clearing. I made better time than I thought, and Thunder Pass was an obvious, gentle saddle below Lulu Mountain. There was no trail to speak of, but I enjoyed picking my own trail, as there was enough snow to ski to the top. I took a slope measurement for fun and practice, and I was able to stay on ~25 degree slopes. The snow was a bit hard and slabby, but seemed solid, and you could see occasional trees and rocks anchoring the snow, as well as flatter countours that prevent large, steep areas from holding a lot of energy. (That's about the extent of my reading and basic awareness class -- I don't have the skills to assess a pit on a 35-degree slope in order to get fresh tracks after a big dump, so for now I'll just avoid stuff like that altogether!)

Skiing up to the pass was straightforward, and I wasn't disappointed with a face-full of mountains upon mountains in RMNP (as well as blustery wind!):



I sat down for a lunch break, and enjoyed the views outside RMNP, too:


I knew the downhill would be quick, so I had plenty of time. I took a leisurely lunch, and fought the urge to climb Lulu, which would have been a straightforward hike with just a bit of scrambling at the top. But I hadn't planned it, and I hadn't planned for it (I would have brought extra boots, e.g.) so it'll have to wait.

I headed back down, and essentially made my first respectable BC turns -- ever -- without falling. Soon, I was back on the packed snowmobile trail, which was also a fun descent. If I hadn't stopped for more pictures, the entire 5-6 mile descent would have taken just an hour.

All told, the difference between RMNP and North Park is just an arbitrary line on the map. The world just on the other side of that line is quite beautiful, too!

Bobcat Ridge Weekend Double

Bobcat Ridge Weekend
~12 miles running
~35 miles road bike
~10 miles skiing

Saturday Bike 'n Run
After last Friday's flirtation with temperatures in the 70s, the arctic weather returned, and shirtlessness gave way to layers. When I could catch a break from work, I enjoyed morning and lunchtime runs.

The biggest dilemma for me in the winter is deciding to run, ride, or hop in the car and go for a ski. One advantage of running is that I can sleep in, since most of the good skiing requires an hour-and-a-half drive. After a nice family dinner on Friday night at Bent Fork, in celebration of Christina's birthday, it was nice to sleep in until 8 or so, and then decide what to do.

The weather Saturday, actually, was noticeably warmer than the previous days: mid 30's with full sun by 11AM. I hadn't been on the red bike in a few months, it seemed, so I decided to head up to Bobcat Ridge, a good standby: easy access, more climbing, scenery, and solitude than in-town natural areas. I wasn't sure about the road shoulder conditions, and I was ready to bail or cut things short if it got icy, but it turned out to be quite pleasant. My ascent up the first climb to Horsetooth was nothing to be proud of, so I can tell that I've certainly lost something on the bike. I saw two friendly runners running the shoulder on my way up to Masonville, but zero other cyclists to offend with my non-aerodynamic foolishness and uncoordinated outfit of tattered hiking pants, puffy jacket, and backpack.

The only sketchy ice I encountered, in fact, was the half mile turnoff into Bobcat Ridge itself. Soon I reached the parking lot, did a clothing swap, and headed up Ginny Trail. The lower part of the trail was dry, but quickly gave way to dry, champagne snow in shadowed aspects. I hadn't tested my Yaktrax yet, so I thought I'd give it a go. Even though there were only a few inches of snow, they were a perfect choice, as I really got traction on some slippery technical areas. Huzzah for Yaktrax!

I admired the new (to me) mt. bike features going up, and the single, consistent mt. bike track in the snow. Make no mistake, this is a gnarly trail that I wouldn't contemplate on my own bike.

But I was on my feet today, and going up, up, up...as I crested the ridge, I took a snack break to enjoy one of my favorite local views. Shortly after, I encountered the first two humans I saw on the trail, two hunters taking a break within the Roosevelt NF area adjacent to the natural area. We exchanged friendly greetings, and I guess I was glad I was wearing a blaze orange cap, but I think it was a fine day for all of us to be out there. After passing them, the backside of the ridge, then, was marvelously untracked. With just the right amount of dry snow, traction, and rolling trail, it was a blast. I took the wide loop (DR Trail) off of Mahoney and headed down, when I big mulie crashed through the brush and started bouncing down the trail. "Parkour!"

I looped back, passed two more humanfolk, and returned to my bike; once again, thankfully, unmolested. And, the coffee in my thermos was still hot!

I slowly rode back home, still ahead of the sunset, but started getting cold and a bit stiff from the lack of riding and general weather.

Another front was coming through...

We went to Old Town to celebrate friend Peter's birthday, and enjoyed Stonehouse brews and fish 'n chips, which I need to give credit for as the best in town. On the way, Jessica spotted a Red Hot Chili Peppers tribute band playing at Hodi's. Only $3 (good!) but wouldn't start until 11:30 or so. After going to Washington's for a bit, we did circle back to Hodi's. The opener was just finishing...which was a Muse cover band. D'oh! Well, we caught the end of "Nights of Cydonia" at least.

"Psycho Sexy" was fun for the mood we were in, it seemed. Surprisingly, they played mostly older stuff, which was awesome. Now, early Sunday AM, the snow was falling steadily in Old Town:



Sunday Ski
After the previous late night, I slept in even more, and awoke to a solid 4 or 5 inches of fresh powder -- and still falling! But, the temperatures were barely in the double digits. Driving to a good ski spot was unattractive, since the unplowed roads and late start wouldn't leave much time.

So, I decided to head back to Bobcat Ridge. I decided the previous day that much of the Valley Trail and DR would be pretty decent with some solid snow.
Long story short, it was still a fun ski, but not enough snow for the rocks. Or, I should say, the trail needs one layer of heavy, wet snow compressed on top of the rocks to make it more manageable. I banged up my skis a lot, and only got some fun momentum downhill a few times. Still, it was nice to be out on the skis, and also fun to drive the Outback with the snow tires back on. I saw exactly two other people on the trail in over three hours today (grand total: 6 for the weekend), and 4 deer, in addition to three more deer on the side of the road near HTMP. I can't say enough for the solitude and quality trails of Bobcat Ridge!

Now, I just have to fight off this cold/fever that everyone seemed to have already...

Fort Collins Thanksgiving Day Run 2009

Jessica and I were in town for Thanksgiving, and decided to check out the Thanksgiving Day run. We've enjoyed previous Turkey Trot's in Oklahoma City, but this was our first hometown race on Thanksgiving.

The day dawned clear but very crisp, in the high 20s or so, and downright cold in the shade. The generous 9am start gave us plenty of time to sleep in a bit and get ready for the start at Old Chicago. Although 4000+ people ended up doing the race, the lack of daily work and shopping traffic more than made up for it, so traffic was light and parking was easy.

We picked up our packets and learned our shirts would be coming in the mail, due to the high demand and popularity of the race. I ran our packets and my jacket and gloves back to the car, with a little time to spare, so I decided to hit the restroom one more time.

Just 5 minutes before the race, I lined up in the crowd. With so much high-quality competition, and having looked at previous race results, I figured a good 50 or 60 people clearly deserved to start ahead of me, so I headed behind the start banner. Once I made my way into the crowd, though, I looked around, and saw a sea of families, strollers, and headphones. "I'm just hoping to finish" said the guy next to me.

Crap. I'm not *that* competitive, but I didn't want to stress out in a sea of gapers, so I tried to weave my way forward a little bit. Eventually, I settled in, and the race began. As expected, these folks plodded along across the road, so it took a bit of diving and weaving to get to a comfortable pocket of runners. Personally, I enjoy running so much that I wouldn't want to ever take away from someone else's run by getting in the way; I always yield to faster runners and stay the heck out of the way; so I don't understand the motivation of lining up early at the front around people that are, literally, nearly twice as fast.

But, my briefly foul mood was quickly tempered after about 20 seconds, and finding enough space and pace to enjoy the slight uphill first mile. It turned out that my first mile pace was right on target for my "A" goal of 6-minute miles. In the second mile, however, the stress of the previous days and the fact that I was above my head became apparent, as I started dropping the pace slightly. I settled in to enjoy the day and focused on a good run, comparable to my previous four-miler in Kansas.

We looped around and started heading down Mountain Avenue. Here, I had fond memories of a fast one-mile race in 2007, as well as plenty of training runs when I was taking classes at CSU. The crowd was thinned, and I focused on keeping a solid pace, with the Mason and College Avenue stoplights easily visible in the distance.

Finally, we hit College Avenue, and I sprinted in a bit to get the darn thing over with. It turns out I was 5 seconds or so slower than my previous 4-miler, but it was still quite an enjoyable run. I met our friend Brian and 4-year old John, as we waited for various friends to pass by. After focusing on the runners directly in front of us, I eventually lifted my gaze to the masses coming down Mountain Avenue. Wow, what an amazing spectacle! A sea of folks in our proud hometown were giving it their best. I recognized friends, acquaintances, and people I recognized but didn't know from around town. Jessica finished even faster than she expected. All in all, a good reminder of why we love living here!

Al's Run

Grandpa died today. Or yesterday, I don't know.

His heart gave out a week ago, and Technology gave out a week later.
But this blog is about running, and rambling, so what can I offer?

Grandpa Al taught me to ramble, whether it be in story or across the atlas. Just before his 70th birthday, we spent a dream trip together in Alaska. He is the "A" in "MAH" (and, aren't sandwiches named not after the ends, but the meat in the middle?)

Grandpa Al was born in 1933, grew up in Michigan, and saw Korea from the reluctant barrel of a gun, and, at the 38th parallel, he learned to drive truck. A few years later, he returned safely, and drove truck across his homeland. He spent time here in Colorado -- got married in the Springs, as a matter of fact -- and rambled about, and then spent most of his time living near family in Michigan and Wisconsin.

His final days were spent in Racine, Wisconsin, just a mile or two from Lake Michigan, the great, endless body of water that separates Michigan from Wisconsin.

Spending a few days in Racine to celebrate Grandpa's life, I knew I would invariably end up at the lake. There's something innate about water and it's link to the cycle of life, from baptisms to bon voyage. Just over five years ago, in fact, I was in the same house and watched my grandmother pass away on her living room couch. Once she breathed her last, I resorted to the coping mechanism I know best:

I ran.

After my grandmother died in 2004, I ran out the door and headed East. At that time, Fall had just begun, and when I reached the lake -- running out of East -- I waded straight into the water.
This time, being late November, I awoke after sleeping at my grandfather's house, headed out for a run, and simply stopped at the beach. I had arisen early enough to beat the sunrise, by mere minutes. I watched as the horizon lightened, before an intense orange ball poked, degree by degree, above the calm blanket of fresh water. Satisfied in the dawning of a new day, I ran back.

Spending the weekend in Racine, I returned to the beach twice more. Each of these times, I discarded my shoes, and enjoyed the rare pleasure of barefoot beach running. I've greatly enjoyed barefoot running on both coasts before, but never this close to winter in my birth state. This run, at the end of November, I felt a novel sensation of partially frozen, crusted freshwater beach sand sink beneath my feet. I continued a mile and a half or so south, on North Beach in Racine, past the zoo and desolate "Beach Oasis" of summertime pizza and ice cream, until I hit a long concrete jetty that led out to a small lighthouse.

Shoeless, I headed up the jetty, across pockets and patches of solid ice. As the concrete jutted out into the lake and stabbed at my feet, the waves lept vertically and splashed across me. My feet, fingers, and mind were comfortably numb as I made way out to the the lighthouse, with nothing in my vision but swirling waves straight ahead. Eventually, I reached some cold, rusty steps that led up to a platform. I sat here for a bit and rub my feet.

"The meaning of life is to love" said a choice piece of graffiti.

After a few minutes, I headed back to the beach, and retrieved my shoes. I returned along the path and city streets, waving hello to a few folks walking their dogs, in front of old houses with decorative Packer flags, Badger flags, and "Happy 11th Birthday, Tyler!", taking comfort in the small traditions that never change.

Wrong Way 5K

For a town its size, Fort Collins still retains an impressive handful of computer technology companies, such as HP, AMD, Intel, and Avago, as well as Broadcomm and LSI Logic. HP, where I work, still maintains a wellness coordinator and a free gym, two things for which I am grateful. Furthermore, HP puts on its own 5k run/1 mile walk twice a year for employees, aided with course layout and timing from Steve and Brad from local running store Runner's Roost. Finally, each participant recieves raffle tickets, entered in a drawing for prizes donated by local sponsors. How cool is that?

The race takes place in the parking lot and trail around the campus. This was my fourth (or fifth?) time doing one of these races. The course is always the same, and I won the last couple of times running it. Both of those times, another runner, Justin, and I pushed each other towards the end, and I had to keep my pace honest to stay ahead of him. Also, my coworker and friend Ray has had quite a fast year -- qualifying for Boston again, and even beat my half marathon PR by a couple seconds.

But Justin wasn't racing today, Ray was thinking 19-something...
...
And I got lost.

Anyway, the Spring race usually has a fun Hawaiian theme, whereas the Thanksgiving race is a turkey trot. The turkey trot race has a few designated pacer "turkey," who run 20, 24, or 30min paces. Beat your goal turkey, and get another raffle ticket. Last year, I did not run, and nobody beat 20 minutes (including the turkey). This year, I volunteered to be the 20min turkey, as I pride myself on hitting a pace with a standard watch (and often without one). However, the position was already taken.

Crap, I was gonna have to race it.

I did put a little bit of speedwork in the last few weeks, just to tune up and see how the legs were feeling. Plus, this was another perfect tuneup for the Thanksgiving Day Run here in town, so I might as well give it my best. My best, though, is still based on personal time, not interpersonal competition. I do enjoy a bit of friendly, close competition, only because of the extra push, but my main focus is the objective time and distance itself, not comparing myself to others.

It was a bit chilly but sunny, and I just had a singlet and shorts on, with numerous other folks wearing hats, gloves, etc. I just showed up ready to run, without much of a warmup, and we took off. Some kid in jogging pants took off like a bullet, but I quickly caught up with him, and I was alone. My pace was relaxed, and right at my goal: I would aim just under 6-minute miles, so as to hope to do the same in the 4-miler next week. I hit the 1 mile mark right on time, and was feeling great. Nobody was around, and I was determined to focus on pace and not turn my head back.
"Nobody's even close to you! You're making it look easy!" said Brad, cheering me on, as I looped back to the start.

Soon after crossing the start, I hit the 2-mile mark. This is also where I started mingling with the finishing 1-mile walkers...and where the confusion of the 2nd loop began. I remember being confused by this turn in the past. I think the first year I did this, there were 3 of us together, and 2 of us didn't know the right way, until the 3rd pointed us in the right direction. For some reason, I thought I was supposed to make a big loop around the building again. I passed a volunteer at the turn, who was quiet but saying nothing, and I said, "I go that way, right?" she said, "No, I think you go this way", which was correct...but I insisted on going *my* way! I don't why I did this, just that I mentally envisioned going straight for some reason, and I didn't think the mileage made sense if I went the other way.

A minute later, I hit the exit of the wrong turn, and I finally comprehended mistake, so I turned around, losing a couple minutes total. Now, there were 4 people in front of me. I didn't think I'd catch them, but I ended up catching the next two (and felt kind of bad about it), before finishing just under 21 minutes, and around 3.4-3.5 miles total, and I beat neither Ray nor the turkey.

I don't know how or why I made the wrong turn. I've been quite busy and distracted lately, and I even wonder if I sabotaged myself for some reason while running by myself. I have a feeling that if someone were close behind, I would have made dead-sure to go the right way. I seem to make mistakes when I'm lackadaisical about the details, yet stick to a plan meticulously when I take something very seriously. As it was, it was a good training run! Thanks to HP, Runner's Roost, and sponsors like Panera, Old Chicago, and Silver Mine Subs.

A Rough Journey along Devil's Backbone

Not really, but since I haven't contributed anything for awhile...

Coyote Ridge to Devil's Backbone, ~18 miles roundtrip

Saturday was cool, with cold threatening. I slept in, and snow was once again predicted for the evening. But by late morning the clouds were pregnant with it...and showing.

This front was quite nice because it was windless and calm. I felt comfortable in shorts, but brought warmer jacket, hat, and gloves. Since I've been running more local lately, I thought a little bit of hills in Devil's Backbone sounded like a good bet. I hopped on the Schwinn Probe (free junker that I brought back from Minnesota and have been riding daily for several months) and headed out.

First, I should note that this week, work on the Powerline Trail from Keenland down to Trilby began in earnest. Not only is the fence up along the entire path, but it is now bulldozed into a solid dirt road. I have mixed feelings knowing that much of our longstanding singletrack social trails is gone for good, but I suppose it will be better when they pour the foundation for the alter of Progress. Or something.
Being Saturday, I assumed there would be a respite from Useful Work, and that I could hop the fence and ride this ephemeral road to Trilby. I made it a half mile before I saw the machines were fully awake, not dozing, and that I had better get out of the way. I picked up my bike and tip-toed lightly over a Southridge Fairway, and hit the real road.

Soon I was off to Coyote Ridge. Here I will skip ahead, before skipping back, to note that once again, I was happy to return from running several hours to find my bike was unmolested.

To the run: I ran with a light pack today, which is rare, so as to carry my poofy jacket, and a thermos full of hot coffee. I implored the heavens to rain snow and crud upon me -- it was just one of those weeks -- and wanted to be prepared. As it was, though, the run to the DBB trailhead was uneventful but pleasantly quiet. Saw maybe a half dozen folks all day.

And one of them was an intrepid youngster survivalist. I know this because he and his mom told me. As I paused to swig some coffee and eat an orange, they were getting ready to hike. I asked if they were ready for snow, and the boy (all of 10 or 11) told me he was ready for anything. He knew how to build snow caves, and had garbage bags with him for emergency shelter.
"He could be the next Bear Grylls!" said his mom, but in a refreshing sort of pride built on a boy's genuine interest and enthusiasm, rather than an Honor Roll bumper sticker.

Soon, I headed back, and quickly caught up with them, and wished them well. Seeing my small pack and shorts, Bear Junior advised: "I hope you're prepared!"
I slowed a bit and replied: "I hope so, too, since I need to make it back to Ft. Collins!"
"You're from Ft. Collins?! How far is that?"
"9 miles or so"
"Well, I hope you're prepared! It's a rough journey ahead!"

With that, my spirits were briefly lifted, knowing that boys of any age can still find adventure and excitement outside. I hope he learns, even earlier than I did, that your legs can take you much farther than most people give them credit for. Even if it is a rough journey.

The run back was calm and even. A few flakes started to fall, and it was getting socked in towards Estes, but not up toward Fort Collins. In the final descent, I opened up a bit and let the legs fly. These lower mileage weeks and speedwork are making me feel a bit more fresh at the end of each run, which is nice.

I hopped on the bike, and then took a detour to watch a taped Badger game with some friends. I skipped the details on why I was wearing shorts in the snow on that side of town. Some drinks, a sunset, a Badger victory, and a few inches of snow later, I was cruising home through a delightful snowstorm.