Running in New Mexico...

Let me start off by saying, New Mexico is an incredible state. I've always fancied myself an ocean lover--I was born in Carmel, California, and always assumed that the sea must have had some special hold over me as a result. I now know that the Desert Southwest speaks to me as well.

My trip to Alamogordo was brief to say the least. I sort of planned it that way--regrettably, I now know. I didn't want to impose on my aunt and uncle for too long, and I had some other tasks to accomplish on my ten days off as well, thus, the 3.5 day sojourn. Alamogordo is probably like any other small town in the desert, a bit run down and lacking in amenities (the highlight is a big Walmart), and really dry and dusty. Still there is a certain amount of rustic charm that just can't be found elsewhere.

Maybe it was the fact that at least on three sides, the canyons and mountains loomed. Perhaps it was the swath of white sand seen off in the distance from just about any vantage point. Lack of traffic crawling along at a snail's pace. How about the fact that every where you went, people were incredibly friendly and hospitable (not a single grunt, groan, or mean glare anywhere). Whatever it was, Alamogordo, NM, and it's surrounds were incredible. I would highly recommend a trip there.

Did I mention my uncle has run more marathons than he can count? How about the fact that at 72, he's still so buff that he could kick most people's asses? He works out daily at the gym on Holloman AFB, and still runs and cycles regularly. My aunt is just as active, if not quite as athletic. Made for a perfect trip. Beauty at every turn, and lots of physical activity.


Since my uncle was aware of my plans to run my first half marathon, he made certain to schedule a variety of runs for me. Day 1, a simple 2.5 on relatively flat terrain--something about needing to acclimate to the 4300 foot elevation. Day 1 was followed by a two hour gym session where I received lessons on the finer points of weight lifting workouts that would benefit my runner's legs. The the best part of Day 1--a run over the dunes at White Sands National Monument.

Day 2 was a hill run--of what seemed to this Flatlander's eyes--monumental proportions. Scenic Drive was the name. One mile, pretty much straight up. OK. That's a bit of an exaggeration. It was more like a quarter mile of a relatively gentle incline, and then 3/4's straight up to the top where a big storage tank marked your accomplishment. The picture I took just doesn't do it justice. You really can't get a sense of how steep a climb it was. Ran it twice, and felt great. Thought about running it a third time, but knew that my uncle had additional activities planned for us and I was afraid I would be totally wiped out.

Day 3 included about a 3.5 mile run down from their house in the 'hood to the main drag, and back. Did I mention that it was 'up' on the way back? And did I mention that I ran with their dog, Pepe? A first for me. Damn, that dog had some stamina! That early morning run was followed by a short trip up in the mountains to the Cloudcroft Lodge for a spectacular breakfast of Eggs Benedict with coffee and grapefruit juice. Perfect way to top off physical activity to my way of thinking!


And finally, an few other shots of incredible beauty for your enjoyment...

In Search Of The Sylvan Trail...

After this morning's sucky run, I most definitely need to recharge my batteries. Was supposed to have been a five mile tempo run at 10:08 pace. The first three miles or so weren't too bad, but those last couple...

Leaving for New Mexico tomorrow. Here's hoping I find the elusive 'sylvan trail,' while I'm there.

Ten Signs That I Had Become a Runner...

My first official 'Take It and Run Thursday.' And what a great topic! Marlene of Mission to a(nother) Marathon asks:

When did you know you had become a runner? Was there a defining moment, or was it a gradual progression over time?

While I'd like to point to an A-ha moment, truth is, the onset was gradual. Thus, I present...

Ten Signs That I Had Become a Runner:

1) I cried after completing my first run of thirty minutes duration.

Started running a little over a year ago on the treadmill following the "Couch to 5k" training program. Can still see it in my mind's eye like it was yesterday. Watching the countdown on the treadmill dashboard. Hearing the distinctive 'ding' when the time ran out. Sweat pouring off me. Tired, but exhilarated at the same time. Embarrassed to find myself spouting tears, but there they were. It's just running for goodness sake. Millions of people do it. And now I was one of them.

2) Started rolling out of bed at 5am to get in my run.

Never ever considered myself a morning person, but always set the alarm for 5am anyway. Why? So I could hit the snooze for 45 minutes before committing to the day. Felt a little like stickin' it to the Man. I'll get up when I'm good and ready and not because I have to. Maybe take a little extra time to read the paper or check my email while eating breakfast. You get the picture. Running after work was difficult with the warm temps and fatigue from the workday. One day about nine months ago it occurred to me 'Hey, maybe you could get your lazy ass out of bed and put that time to good use.' Been doing it ever since. And sometimes it's dark and cold out there and I'm still doing it.

3) Talked about running all the time to my husband.

So much so that he finally had to say, "I get that you're excited, but I don't need to hear about it all the time." 'Nuff said.

4) Became an avid "Runner's World" reader.

After all, what runner doesn't read "Runner's World?"

5) My blogroll of running blogs seemed to grow exponentially overnight.

Go ahead, check it out. I'll wait. It's right over there ->->->->

6) Had to move up to a larger suitcase when traveling on business to accommodate my running shoes and clothes, and my Garmin.

If someone knows of a good way to pack these things into a smaller bag without harming your business attire, please let me know.

7) Started to accumulate an amazing library of running books.

Some that I would highly recommend include this, this, and this.

8) Signed up for a Half Marathon.

Now that I'm several weeks into my 'official' training, I keep asking myself "What in the heck did I get myself into?"

9) Admitted in public that I signed up for a Half.

The first admission was made very tentatively. I now speak with conviction. It gets easier. Trust me.

10) Started this blog.

I consider it my 'coming out' party. Not sure if I will ever garner a regular readership, but that's not really the point. The blog is a place to capture my passion, to explore my insecurities, and to document my successes and failures with all things running.

Here I am ... A Runner.

Oh To Be A Route-ist...

It was with great relish that I sat down to read, cover to cover, the August edition of "Runner's World" earlier this week. And when I say cover to cover, I mean that literally. I was stopped in my tracks though when I read David Willey's Editor's Letter bemoaning a recent vacation in Northern Michigan on Walloon Lake where he was relegated to running "five miles on a paved road that could've been in suburban Detroit," instead of the "sylvan trail along the water" that he dreamed of. Mr. Willey said that he "subscribed to the belief that one should run on the best, most scenic route possible," and declared himself a "route-ist."

Virtually all the miles I have logged so far this year have been on paved roads that could have been in suburban Detroit. They weren't. They were logged on flat as a pancake, hot as a mother (well, in the summer, anyway) suburban Fresno, California. I run the 'hood for the most part--thus the name of this blog. Past "little boxes made of ticky tack," zigging and zagging to avoid parked cars and the occasional garbage truck. Counting the number of fast food wrappers left abandoned on the street. Running the stretch along the railroad track where if you time it just right, and the Amtrak blazes past you, for a moment all time seems to stop as you no longer hear your labored breath or the sounds of your feet hitting the ground. Saying hello to the occasional walker or waving to the rare fellow runner passing by in the other direction. That's my runner's world.

I long for the 'sylvan trail.' I want to fancy myself a route-ist. But it seems as though you actually have had to experience the exhilaration of running through beauty first to claim that title. For now I will have to settle for miles of asphalt and lots of broken glass instead. In the end, does it really matter? Isn't it really about the running and not the run? Process versus outcome?

How about you? Are you are route-ist?