Leadville Week 14: Testing My Limits

This 'writing a blog post each week until Silver Rush' is going well, as you can see, since I'm half way into week 13 and writing about week 14, and having trouble recalling most of.  It could have something to do with the balmy 8 degrees this morning and thus my brain is frozen.  The trails I need to hit are covered in white evil, again - on April 10th - and my motivation to get outside and get-'er-done is well below the minimum motivation requirement to get out today and my thoughts are following suit.

My once gorgeous hyacinths in my garden - now frozen dead

It could also be the fact I was certain I came down with the bubonic plague last week and am still feeling a bit like crap (turns out, it was just a sinus and ear infection) and everything I eat has this awesome metallic flavor from the "aggressive" antibiotic I'm on, so I just opt not to eat, which is leaving me feeling rather chipper (I hope you noted my facetious tone).  I also haven't fully rekindled my blogging love affair....but I'm going to give this documenting-my-way-to-Leadville thing a try; I want my kids to see how much "fun" I'm having in this journey when I'm dead - which will probably on be those Leadville mountains.  Mostly though, I want them them to see how I'm not going to give up on a pretty gigantuous goal, despite how hard it is for someone like me.

It really wasn't a bad week, as far as the numbers go, if you enjoy some cringe-worthy headaches, barfing, and shivering uncontrollably torture running.  I sure do.

Brendan returned home from NYC late Tuesday night, much later than planned, and tired.  Hard to imagine that a 17-year old spending 5 days in NYC touring the entire city would leave him exhausted, but apparently it did.  He had a great time playing at Carneige though, and said it was the highlight of all the incredible things they did there....

Brendan: first guy, last row on the left

So with one fatigued kid, another bailing so he could run with the track team (I'm starting to see where his priorities are, the nerve), and one on Spring Break and not organized mother, our plans to head somewhere warm to backpack for a few days never materialized last week.  Stuff goes bad.  It rots, it breaks, you grow out of it, you get sick of it, you change your mind, you move on, or you want more stuff.  But memories are timeless, priceless and untouchable, and especially memories with my soon-to-be senior twins, who will soon-to-be gone. I was a bit bummed, in one of those I-really-don't-like-to-backpack-anyway ways.

This failure of a trip turned out well for me Wednesday and allowed me to get to the track and preform a little MAF (maximum aerobic function) run test, to gauge if there's been any pace improvements in the same HR zone, since I started back running in October; followed by a little negative split tempo run.  Give me a track and I'm happier than a Slinky on an escalator.  Well, if things go right - which, surprisingly they did, in my headachy, sinus congested-y state:

2013
January 3rd	March 1st	April 1st
Mile 1:  9:59 Mile 2:  9:49 Mile 3:  9:47 Mile 4:  9:47 Mile 5:  9:39 Avg Pace: 9:47 Max HR: 145	Mile 1: 9:37 Mile 2:  9:34 Mile 3:  9:32 Mile 4:  9:21 Mile 5:  9:33 Avg Pace: 9:29 Max HR: 146	Mile 1:  9:08 Mile 2:  9:19 Mile 3:  9:18 Mile 4:  9:21 Avg Pace: 9:16 Max HR: 145 *Only did 4 mile test because I had a tempo run after

Hey, lookie, I'm getting faster!!!  I suspect my rate of speed will drastically slow down now, and if I see any more gains, they will be less significant.  But you can't argue with factual data that I have made progress.  I immediately went into full tempo mode post MAF run (meaning I didn't dilly-dally at the porta-pottie or procrastinate by checking my watch or getting more water or .... ) and knocked out a negative split 3 miler with an 8:08, 7:47, and 7:24 respectively.  Oh yeah!

Thursday I woke up feeling like a truck ran me over - twice (just to make sure I felt extra miserable) so of course that meant Brendan decided he wanted to head down to Colorado Springs to climb 4000' up to Barr Camp and spend the night.  In sub-freezing temps.  Whatever prior thoughts I had yesterday about spending quality time with my boys before they abandoned me went out the window and my once "I needed experiences and people, not things" thoughts were leaning more towards material objects, like my warm flannel sheets.  But I went, because that's what magnificent mothers do.  So I hear.

Glad you're carrying 40 lbs, Brendan, so I can "run" up this dang thing with nothing but my water

Not long after this last picture (don't let the smile fool you), around mile 3 and 2200' of climbing (that's some steep shit!), I suddenly started shaking and just before I could yell at Brendan to stop, I barfed.  On my sparkly new trail shoes (the ones I'm praying will not fight with my feet and stop the blistering madness).  That was kinda cool, in a not so fun sort of way.  We climbed another half mile before I finally had to start crying, because it's really cool to cry when you're frustrated and feel like hell.  And have a long way to go until you get to camp (4 more miles and another 2000' of climbing).  Brendan wasn't feeling that wonderful himself, having been at sea level for the past few days.  I eased into the conversation the notion that perhaps downshifting and returning to the car was a really good idea, in light of, well, everything; my limits were tapped.  My tears were of frustration that I was disappointing him, but hell, if he gave me the A-okay to abandon ship, then I'm not going to argue, especially since my stomach was in knots. So that day ended with 7ish miles and  ~2200' elevation, not anywhere close to the 3-4 hours of vertical climbing I had on my plan.  But damn if memories of adventure weren't just what I asked for :).

Friday was spent at the doctors office, for the 2nd time that week (let's take a minute to remember the arm amputation earlier in the week from the last post) where I was given that super tasty antibiotic and as a bonus, got to spend $148 on some Nasonex (I want into the pharmacy industry, seriously!). Saturday, I finally felt enough marginal relief that I could go ride my bike.  In 25mph headwinds for 25 miles. With symptoms that somewhat mimicked seasickness (oh what fond memories on a boat in the Alaskan Peninsula, hanging my head over the side of a boat - for hours). If today wasn't a test mental perseverance, then tomorrow would be.

I ended the week on Monday with a little 16.5 mile, 3000' climb - on dead legs from the day's before race - up Deer Creek Canyon, hitting the trails before the spring storm that rolled in hours later (yippee).  I was tired and dragging my ass feet and fell, twice.  The first time was minor and I got up quickly and rolled with it.  Fall #2, about 15 minutes later,  left some skin on the rocks and worse, shook my confidence, leaving me skittish descending the massive amounts of time I still had left to get down.

It's nothing really, I know I'll have many more falls before I end this Leadville gig on July 14th, so I'll just look at this little scab as a badge of honor and tell all my co-workers how badass I was when I ran away, fast, from some mountain lion.  I think what the fall solidified for me, is that when my legs are fatigued, tested, and sore, as they will be suffering in Leadville somewhere along those 50 miles, so I need to be dutifully aware of my acrimony ... and pick up my feet to finish that thing in one piece.  But my overall pace was about a minute faster than when I did this same route a few weeks ago, so progress is happening.

Sometimes we have to try to take what we have rather than have what it takes – and go.  I may not have felt good this week, but damn if it wasn't a good week none-the-less.

Miles: 47.52
Vertical: 5451'

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.  The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood...."

Run strong,
Jill