What a difference a month makes.

I have 8 weeks to go until Ironman Wisconsin. Training is intense but going well.

Garter snake from 13-mile Wunderlich run last weekend.

There are ups and downs, but overall, I feel strong and healthy. I've had some great key workouts, including the Rodeo Valley 30K Trail Run in the Marin Headlands at the end of June. I also nailed a 109-mile bike up Mt. Hamilton and back to Livermore on Mines Road last weekend in 100-degree heat. This was redemption for me since when I did it 1 month ago, I almost didn't finish. I felt like a different person the second time. Fast, powerful, and mentally tough. What a difference a month makes.



Pics from Marin Headlands Run:

















At the end of this week, exhaustion set in. Friday, all I wanted to do was sleep. I was scheduled for a swim, run, and weights. I ended up scratching all workouts (guiltily) and sleeping all day. I woke up only to eat. Instead of dwelling on it, I woke up this morning and resumed the workout on the docket for the day: 16 mile trail run. I chose the Crystal Springs Trail, since I had never done it before. I started in Edgewood Park. It was 80 degrees, sunny, and most of the trail was exposed, but not hot. I had plenty of fuel, water, and salt pills. Heavily armed, I set out. I felt a little bored the first few miles, but the Western fence lizards darting underfoot kept me occupied as I dance over them. I counted them to keep me occupied (25 by the end).

The trail snaked along Canada road, littered with cyclists and triathletes zooming back and forth. A deep sapphire blue lake emerged--Crystal Springs Reservoir. A police siren blared in the distance, immediately matched with a cacophony of off-key sirens blaring from the reeds and bushes by the foot of the reservoir (off limits for people). My first thought was rowdy teenagers, instantly replaced with clarity: coyotes. I stopped and peered into the bushes. They were so close. It sounded like there were dozens of them. Despite the raucous, I saw nothing.

By the time I had reached mile 4, my mind began to empty, my feet turned onto autopilot, and I felt I was in a dream. A brush touched my arm. Was that poison oak? Afterall, it was everywhere, glistening with oil and bright red with early fall colors. Another vine patted my ear. I turned to identify the perp--it was indeed poison oak. Shoot! Now, all I could think about was not touching anything and showering in TecNu when I got home.

I continued running along the reservoir, laughing at the stop-and-go traffic piled along Hwy 92, waiting to get to the coast. Then, I almost ran headfirst into a thicket of poison oak. The trail just ended onto the Highway. Later, closer inspection of the map would show that the connector between this segment of the trail and the north end has yet to be finished. Drat! I would be short 3 miles. Grumbling, I turned and headed back.

Along the return path, I took a detour into the Pulgas Water Temple, a strange park with pristine lawns and a swimming pool-length monument that leads up to tall, ornate, cement columns and lots of steps. No trails. Well, there might be, but they are all fenced off. There were, however, bathrooms and water.

A little further down the trail, I turned into another park, Filoli, to see what it was about. Apparently, it's a historic garden and house that required admission. I ended up running on the service road to the nature center, catching a glimpse of a family of wild turkeys, hurriedly whisking their young across the path and away from my very suspicious camera. As I continued running back on the trail, I spotted a small family of deer, grazing like cattle in the dry, golden fields of Filoli (I doubt they paid admission).

After mile 12, my pace slowed and my hips began to ache. Aches and pains began to rotate between toes, IT bands, knees, and hips. I no longer had delusions of grandeur of fitting in a swim that afternoon. I laughed at the absurdity and ignorance of that earlier idea. The only swimming I'd be doing would be in an ice bath. However, I was careful not to admonish my slow pace, happy to still be running.

I reentered Edgewood Park and took the long way back to the parking lot to make up the 3 miles I still needed. I couldn't believe how much the familiar trails, normally with fast downhills, hurt and slowly crawled by. I reached the parking lot at 15.89 miles and kept running to the road until my watch buzzed at 16. Finally, I could walk and stretch. Let the recovery begin.