pea soup

yesterday's long run:  5.5 miles (pathetic)
on the iPod:  "see you again"  -- edgewoode

There was absolutely no presence of sunlight -- not even the semblance of a few rays penetrating the thick, grey blanket of cloud cover.  There was a wind, though, and it was strong enough to blow the constant sprinkling of rain on an irritating 15 degree angle.  I had refuse-to-go-away heartburn after eating 5-star pad thai the night before.  I was wearing the wrong running gear for the conditions.  My legs were still shot from covering 3,000 vertical feet in about 10 minutes, only to ascend in a gondola to do it over and over again.

But none of that mattered.  I wanted to run.  And as bad as the run sucked, i'm still glad that I did.

Getting a late start after sleeping in and having an extended breakfast at Einstein Bros. Bagels, which is fast becoming one of my favorite places, I finally made it out on the trails close to noon -- usually the hour that finds me exhausted and in a mental haze known as the runner's high.  After taking close to two weeks off from running, my expectations were low from the beginning, and I figured an easy 10 miler would be perfect.  I couldn't have been a full mile in when I began to rethink that distance.  It felt like I was running through pea soup.  I tried to suck it up and hope for things to change around the next corner, or in the coming stretch of trail, but eventually I accepted the fact that I wasn't enjoying the experience and turned around, miserably short of any chance of experiencing the runner's high.  I think I was done before I ever started.  Sometimes, though not often, a run simply doesn't come together as planned, and yesterday was one of those days.

But that's okay, because I know that pea soup never lasts forever, and that sunnier skies and stronger legs will come around again.  And when they do, i'll be ready to lace up and go the distance.  

It was great to spend Spring Break in Vail, Colorado with Todd and awesome friends Heather, Marsha and Lori, and Mitzi, who came from Atlanta to meet us.  We skiied hard in perfect mountain conditions for four days, traversing the mountain from east to west, hitting runs like Columbine, Hunky Dory, The Meadows, Swingsville, Tin Pants, Whistle Pig, and Avanti.  The afternoons were reserved for hot tubs overlooking the slopes and mimosas in rocks glasses.

    

The town of Vail, situated at the base of the mountain at 8,500 feet is not unlike a European village, and we stayed in the heart of Lionshead at the Arrabelle.  It's prime location is only matched by it's attention to detail in every aspect, from oversized balconies to slopeside ski valet.  From the softest of beds to the warmest of heated marble floors.  From the oak paneling to the abundance of fire places.  It was truly opulent.  I spent each morning in the grand lodge, drinking coffee and reading the New York Times, with the mountain only a stone's throw out the window.  The quiet calm of light snowfall was intoxicating.  Or maybe it was the Bailey's Irish Cream.

The evenings meant fighting weary legs and windburned faces as we traversed the streets and alleys that seemed to offer an endless line of restaurants, each with their own offering of original dishes.  We had steak, trout, salmon, and every chocolate dessert imaginable.  Mixed in were soups, chilis, breads, and more than a few bottles of white wine.  The meals were a perfect ending to days that couldn't have been better.  It was so much fun to share the time together after skiing hard and then even a little bit harder.  I've fallen in love with Vail mountain and can't wait to go back.  

    

As March comes to a close, I can't help but get excited about the pending spring season.  I'm tired of running in pea soup and am ready for the sun to shine down on the trails again, warming and greening my beloved hamlet of Fayetteville.  I'm ready to sweat like hell and end with a final mile that absolutely wears me out.  I'm ready to run until it hurts in blistering heat and unforgiving humidity.  As of now I'm registered for zero races, but that will soon change.  There are more than a few on my radar, some in my own backyard and some away,  and I don't yet know where i'll next toe the line.  But wherever it may be, i'll have a smile on my face when the gun goes off and i'll try to make the most of every single mile, thankful for all that life has put in front of me.  That's what we have to do -- be thankful for every moment and every day and every run.  Even when it's pea soup outside.

Run.