I found my pace on the East Boulder Trail today. Spoiler alert, it’s slower than I’d been running. Seems odd runners have to relearn their pace after falling out of shape, but they do. Finding my pace allowed me to run further and to avoid walking.
My cairn was knocked over so I rebuilt it. You might not be surprised by this, but I felt inspired by the architecture of the Notre Dame Cathedral.
I targeted the bridge today for my turn-around, which would have given me a five-mile run. But with my new-found pace, I kept going.
I ran past the spot along the Boulder Creek where I released Tara and Teddy’s ashes. Our first dogs, they would typically run with me and cool off here in the creek. I ran just a little further.
I made my turn-around at the White Rocks Trailhead, resulting in an eight miler. Longest run of the year.
On my return, near the end, I passed a blind lady hiking on the trail, dragging her walking stick along the edge as a guide. She wasn’t wearing glasses but held her face up skyward with closed eyes, toward the sun. I felt some derivative of empathy and for a moment imagined I was her, hiking a Colorado Trail without sight, but feeling my way into the sun. She looked happy.
Tara and Teddy mirror some of the traits of our current dogs. Mostly, there were two of them then, and we have two now. Similar sizes. Tara and Millie were both at the top of the pecking order while the boys were both overly defensive. Karen always says that Tara and Teddy came back as Millie and Meeko. I don’t know, maybe they did.