February in Vermont usually means lots of snow, maybe some ice, and a glimpse of sunshine every now and then to keep our hopes up.
This year February has meant brown grass, very little snow, and mud - lots of mud.
Today it was 46 degrees at noon for our half-marathon group 3 mile walk/run. Not only was it warm, but the sun was shining! We've earned this weather by running in sub-zero temperatures, slogging through the snow, and dealing with icy roads and sidewalks.
Next up: warm enough to run in shorts!
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
We run to eat
Last week I was doing a fartlek (speed play) run with Fern. As we sped up the steepest hill, our heart rates zooming up into the highest zones, she started reciting the ingredients in the salad she prepared for lunch after she finished the run. While I was trying just to breathe and keep moving forward, she merrily sang out: "avocoado - huff, huff; chicken - huff, huff; favorite vegetables". The vision of the beautiful, delicious salad powered her up the hill. After we caught our breaths and flew down the other side of the hill, we laughed about the motivational qualities of food.
Saturday the marathon group planned breakfast/brunch/lunch after finishing 18 miles. Cups of hot coffee warmed cold hands, glasses of chocolate milk refueled our muscles, and eggs, sandwiches, and Chauncey's house specialty - home-made potato chips - satisfied our hunger. The meal wasn't just about the food, although eating was definitely a priority. The time together to talk, laugh, and get to know each other better fueled our minds and emotions as we replaced our energy stores.
We decided to skip dessert.
Saturday the marathon group planned breakfast/brunch/lunch after finishing 18 miles. Cups of hot coffee warmed cold hands, glasses of chocolate milk refueled our muscles, and eggs, sandwiches, and Chauncey's house specialty - home-made potato chips - satisfied our hunger. The meal wasn't just about the food, although eating was definitely a priority. The time together to talk, laugh, and get to know each other better fueled our minds and emotions as we replaced our energy stores.
We decided to skip dessert.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Winter running in the Hollow
The thermometer on my car read 14 degrees, but the sun was shining in a light blue sky as I drove into the small parking area at the intersection of Lower and Upper Hollow Roads in Dorset. A running friend earlier in the morning told me there was a brisk north wind so I pulled on a fleece neck warmer that fits over my nose and added a hat for extra warmth.
The Hollow is a favorite just-under-5-miles mostly dirt road loop located in one of the highest valleys of the Taconic Mountain range in southwestern Vermont. Walkers and runners love the Hollow for it's quiet beauty and rolling hills. There's very little traffic, especially in the winter when the vast majority of the second-home owners spend their time in warmer climates.
There's a big debate about which direction to properly run the Hollow: Lower Hollow Road, with it's 2 mile long gradual uphill first? Or tackle Upper Hollow with it's rolling hills and then enjoy a long downhill on Lower Hollow? I opted to start on Lower Hollow so the wind would be at my back. Lower Hollow crests hills in the middle of open farmland, providing a beautiful view across the valley to Upper Hollow. Dust clouds swirled in front of me, and I was glad for my sun glasses to protect my eyes from the wind, dusty grit, and sun.
Today was a first: not one car passed me as I ran along the dusty road. The wind howled at my back, making me think that a large pick-up truck or perhaps one of the heating oil trucks was coming up behind me. As I glanced back over my shoulder, all I saw was my shadow and the tops of the bare trees bending in the wind. I found myself paying attention to the sounds: the creaking of old oak and maple trees, dried brown leaves skittering along the road, and every so often the jingling of the bells from a December 5K race stilled tied to my shoes.
I made the sharp turn onto Upper Hollow Road, the wind blasting in my face, slowing my pace as I tucked my chin and kept churning my legs to move forward. Just a bit further, I thought, and I'll reach the shelter of trees and the hills that drop close to the edges of the road. Where Lower Hollow follows a mostly straight path through farmland, Upper Hollow twists and turns through forested hills, offering reprieve from the wind.
I enjoyed the shelter of Upper Hollow and the pattern of shadows from the trees crossing the road in front of me. At time I felt like I was on a roller coaster ride. You know when the roller coaster gets to a steep uphill section, it slows down and you can hear the wheels clicking into the cogs, pulling you up to the top? At the very top there's a slight hesitation, and then the roller coaster screams down the other side until it slows once again as it reaches the next steep section. I imagined myself as a roller coaster, downshifting and slowing my pace to chug up the hills, pausing for a moment at the top for a deep breath and a glance around at the view, and then letting my legs turnover quickly beneath me as I sped down the road.
40 minutes into the run I realized I couldn't feel my thighs, and my cheeks were stinging due to the cold and the wind. Thank goodness for a sunny day and microfleece pulled up to just under my eyes. I decided to speed up for the last few hills and the final curve back to my car.
Most of my runs this time of year are with women from my running group, filled with talk and laughter so that often I don't notice my surroundings. Today I cherished running alone, paying attention to the sounds of my breath and feet, gazing over the valley to the scattered houses visible through the leafless trees on the other side, and watching the clouds roll across the sky. Not only was I running by myself, but I saw no other people. No traffic, no one walking outside their house, not even a dog in a yard.
As I stretched next to my car at the end of the run, a man and woman walked down the road in front of me. "Beautiful day!", they called out, the first human sound outside of my breath and the jingling of the bells on my shoes I'd heard in the past hour.
The Hollow is a favorite just-under-5-miles mostly dirt road loop located in one of the highest valleys of the Taconic Mountain range in southwestern Vermont. Walkers and runners love the Hollow for it's quiet beauty and rolling hills. There's very little traffic, especially in the winter when the vast majority of the second-home owners spend their time in warmer climates.
There's a big debate about which direction to properly run the Hollow: Lower Hollow Road, with it's 2 mile long gradual uphill first? Or tackle Upper Hollow with it's rolling hills and then enjoy a long downhill on Lower Hollow? I opted to start on Lower Hollow so the wind would be at my back. Lower Hollow crests hills in the middle of open farmland, providing a beautiful view across the valley to Upper Hollow. Dust clouds swirled in front of me, and I was glad for my sun glasses to protect my eyes from the wind, dusty grit, and sun.
Today was a first: not one car passed me as I ran along the dusty road. The wind howled at my back, making me think that a large pick-up truck or perhaps one of the heating oil trucks was coming up behind me. As I glanced back over my shoulder, all I saw was my shadow and the tops of the bare trees bending in the wind. I found myself paying attention to the sounds: the creaking of old oak and maple trees, dried brown leaves skittering along the road, and every so often the jingling of the bells from a December 5K race stilled tied to my shoes.
I made the sharp turn onto Upper Hollow Road, the wind blasting in my face, slowing my pace as I tucked my chin and kept churning my legs to move forward. Just a bit further, I thought, and I'll reach the shelter of trees and the hills that drop close to the edges of the road. Where Lower Hollow follows a mostly straight path through farmland, Upper Hollow twists and turns through forested hills, offering reprieve from the wind.
I enjoyed the shelter of Upper Hollow and the pattern of shadows from the trees crossing the road in front of me. At time I felt like I was on a roller coaster ride. You know when the roller coaster gets to a steep uphill section, it slows down and you can hear the wheels clicking into the cogs, pulling you up to the top? At the very top there's a slight hesitation, and then the roller coaster screams down the other side until it slows once again as it reaches the next steep section. I imagined myself as a roller coaster, downshifting and slowing my pace to chug up the hills, pausing for a moment at the top for a deep breath and a glance around at the view, and then letting my legs turnover quickly beneath me as I sped down the road.
40 minutes into the run I realized I couldn't feel my thighs, and my cheeks were stinging due to the cold and the wind. Thank goodness for a sunny day and microfleece pulled up to just under my eyes. I decided to speed up for the last few hills and the final curve back to my car.
Most of my runs this time of year are with women from my running group, filled with talk and laughter so that often I don't notice my surroundings. Today I cherished running alone, paying attention to the sounds of my breath and feet, gazing over the valley to the scattered houses visible through the leafless trees on the other side, and watching the clouds roll across the sky. Not only was I running by myself, but I saw no other people. No traffic, no one walking outside their house, not even a dog in a yard.
As I stretched next to my car at the end of the run, a man and woman walked down the road in front of me. "Beautiful day!", they called out, the first human sound outside of my breath and the jingling of the bells on my shoes I'd heard in the past hour.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Full moon and stars
I headed out with the running group a little after 6pm this evening, and as we walked across the frozen parking lot at Cornerstone Fitness in Manchester, a full moon rose in the sky in front of us. The moon hovered just over the top of the Green Mountains, and it lit up the ground almost as well as our headlamps.
1.25 miles later we turned onto Bonnet Street, and once again saw the full moon, this time a bit higher in the sky and surrounded by bright stars. One of the many benefits of living in a small town in southwestern Vermont is the lack of light pollution. Even though we were running in the middle of town where street lamps light the sidewalks, we could still see the moon and stars against the black sky. My sister who lives in Houston always comments on how dark it is in Vermont at night, and also on the number of stars. She rarely sees the stars in Houston because of all the lights from the city.
The moon was again right in front of me as I drove up East Manchester Road toward home. There are no streetlights in this part of town, yet the clear night, bright stars and full moon made it easy to see the road. I was tempted to turn off my car's headlights and drive the 1/3 mile down our dead-end dirt road with only the moon to guide me. I followed the rules and left the headlights on, but after I parked the car I stood outside in the darkness for a few moments, enjoying the night sky and the shadows cast by the moon.
Thank you, running group, for the opportunity to experience this wonderful night!
1.25 miles later we turned onto Bonnet Street, and once again saw the full moon, this time a bit higher in the sky and surrounded by bright stars. One of the many benefits of living in a small town in southwestern Vermont is the lack of light pollution. Even though we were running in the middle of town where street lamps light the sidewalks, we could still see the moon and stars against the black sky. My sister who lives in Houston always comments on how dark it is in Vermont at night, and also on the number of stars. She rarely sees the stars in Houston because of all the lights from the city.
The moon was again right in front of me as I drove up East Manchester Road toward home. There are no streetlights in this part of town, yet the clear night, bright stars and full moon made it easy to see the road. I was tempted to turn off my car's headlights and drive the 1/3 mile down our dead-end dirt road with only the moon to guide me. I followed the rules and left the headlights on, but after I parked the car I stood outside in the darkness for a few moments, enjoying the night sky and the shadows cast by the moon.
Thank you, running group, for the opportunity to experience this wonderful night!
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Conversation over a 16 mile run
Our 16 mile run today on the Shires marathon course was like a slinky - one that talks.
We started off in small groups, larger groups, pairs, and a couple of women who prefer to run on their own. "Watch out for the ice!", "car behind us", and "wow - look at that view" were shouted out to the line of 12 women stretching down the road.
Over the 16 mile course some of us caught up to those in front, and we all ran at the same pace for a few minutes to talk and laugh. Then we'd separate again as someone took a walk break, we headed up a hill at various speeds, or someone else felt like running a bit faster. At one point I stopped to take off my shoe to remove a large stone, debated the merits of catching up to the group in front of me, and opted to wait for the group I heard behind me - their laughter brightened my day as much as the sunshine.
After the run, Mandy and Patty said the 6 of us in front of them looked like a flock of geese as we ran down the middle of Old Depot Road. I have many favorite parts of the Shires course, but the 8 miles on dirt roads from the railroad tracks on Airport Road to the end of Old Depot Road are at the top of the list. There's little to no traffic, the roads curve and wind through farmland and forests, and the view of the Green Mountains is gorgeous. Plus we can run down the middle of the road if we please.
Troy caught up to us and ran a few feet in front for a few minutes, looking over her shoulder to join the conversation. She sped up a hill, then jogged in circles waiting for us to join her - the conversation was too interesting to miss.
We talked about religion, the Komen Foundation and Planned Parenthood, a daughter whose phone was stolen on the NY subway, the amount of snow in Colorado compared to our lack of snow here, compression clothing, our favorite flavor of Gu, when we first started our menstrual cycle and what it's like to go through menopause. As someone from the group in front of us slowed down, she was drawn seamlessly into the conversation.
Once we reached the Stewart's in Arlington, our endpoint for the day, we continued talking while we stretched, changed into dry clothes, drank chocolate milk and ate our favorite recovery foods. We kept to our talking slinky ways as women joined the group, went outside to their cars, came back inside, cheered as the next person finished her 16 miles, figured out carpooling, and made plans for the next run.
20 women running 16 miles on beautiful Vermont roads on a sunny winter morning. I'm still smiling.
We started off in small groups, larger groups, pairs, and a couple of women who prefer to run on their own. "Watch out for the ice!", "car behind us", and "wow - look at that view" were shouted out to the line of 12 women stretching down the road.
Over the 16 mile course some of us caught up to those in front, and we all ran at the same pace for a few minutes to talk and laugh. Then we'd separate again as someone took a walk break, we headed up a hill at various speeds, or someone else felt like running a bit faster. At one point I stopped to take off my shoe to remove a large stone, debated the merits of catching up to the group in front of me, and opted to wait for the group I heard behind me - their laughter brightened my day as much as the sunshine.
After the run, Mandy and Patty said the 6 of us in front of them looked like a flock of geese as we ran down the middle of Old Depot Road. I have many favorite parts of the Shires course, but the 8 miles on dirt roads from the railroad tracks on Airport Road to the end of Old Depot Road are at the top of the list. There's little to no traffic, the roads curve and wind through farmland and forests, and the view of the Green Mountains is gorgeous. Plus we can run down the middle of the road if we please.
Troy caught up to us and ran a few feet in front for a few minutes, looking over her shoulder to join the conversation. She sped up a hill, then jogged in circles waiting for us to join her - the conversation was too interesting to miss.
We talked about religion, the Komen Foundation and Planned Parenthood, a daughter whose phone was stolen on the NY subway, the amount of snow in Colorado compared to our lack of snow here, compression clothing, our favorite flavor of Gu, when we first started our menstrual cycle and what it's like to go through menopause. As someone from the group in front of us slowed down, she was drawn seamlessly into the conversation.
Once we reached the Stewart's in Arlington, our endpoint for the day, we continued talking while we stretched, changed into dry clothes, drank chocolate milk and ate our favorite recovery foods. We kept to our talking slinky ways as women joined the group, went outside to their cars, came back inside, cheered as the next person finished her 16 miles, figured out carpooling, and made plans for the next run.
20 women running 16 miles on beautiful Vermont roads on a sunny winter morning. I'm still smiling.
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