Running On The Mesa Trail

This winter and spring, I spent many hours running in the foothills near my house. Running is not my favorite activity, but it dominated the colder months in the absence of the friendly warm weather team games like volleyball and softball. I got pretty fixated on running, steadily increasing the distance and difficulty of my routes. I had my eye on a sub-45 minute time in the Bolder Boulder, a popular 10k race on Memorial Day.

I live in the southwest corner of Boulder, right where a thousand miles of plains end and the Rockies begin. The system of trails near my house is based around the Mesa Trail, a 6.7 mile north-south artery from Eldorado Springs to Chautauqua in west-central Boulder. The Mesa Trail is runner's heaven, windy and lumpy and scenic, with no vehicles, no bikes, and fewer people than the subsidiary trails connecting it to Boulder. The Mesa Trail is far from flat, but it does not run uphill or down. It is hilly, but not consistently one way. This is the best kind of running - adventurous but never oppressive.

The hard part is getting up to the Mesa Trail. Doing so from my house requires a minimum of 1.5 miles of laborious uphill slogging. Most runs begin this way - I put on a pokerroad podcast, grab Daisy the black lab, put my head down, and chug up the mountain. I don't have much to remember about these uphill jaunts. I just try to pay attention to the ipod, not my legs and lungs.

Once I get to the Mesa Trail, it is pure glory. Endorphins rush through me once the angle lessens. The views are spectacular. Daisy, who has been running circles around me while collecting sticks and cavorting with other dogs, now struggles to keep up. I usually switch from the podcast to music once I reach the Mesa, which just makes me want to run faster. There is no pain, only pleasure. On the Mesa Trail, I sometimes feel like I could run forever.

This winter and spring was a difficult time for me. There was little I did, other than running, that seemed to accomplish anything. I struggled in poker, in love, in Catan, in life. I tried and failed. Every day was an uphill climb, and I never seemed to be getting anywhere.

Now suddenly, shockingly, everything in my life has come together in stunning triumph. It all happened so fast. I cannot believe how fortunate I have been lately, how well things have been going, how delightful each day has been. There is nothing that pains me, no area of struggle. Every hour is filled with joy, with the people and things I love the most. Softball and kickball and ultimate frisbee. The weather has been superb. The Nuggets and their compelling run at a championship. The recently-discovered hookah bar. A fresh crop of summer movies. There has been so much fun, in fact, that I haven't gone running more than twice this month and have decided to eschew the Bolder Boulder.

Every day is a gift. I am running without resistance. I have reached the plateau, and feel like I could run forever up here.