The feeling is ephemeral and can only be felt in a fall’s winter.  The trail under my feet was packed snow.  The sun glare refracting off the snow rendered my hat useless, but I smile when I glint into light, so most everyone waved at me today.

Karen and I survived Halloween another year.  It was cold with the temps quickly dropping below freezing after the sun went down.  Karen was haunted by all sorts of horrific creatures throughout the night, but Scooby Doo was close by to keep her safe.

The East Boulder Trail wasn’t all snowpack.  There were spots of pure mud.  I’d steer wide, but that wasn’t always possible.  On the return, I was running atop a thin ridge covered in a few inches of fresh powder when my inside foot planted on a slope of mud.  I caught most of myself with my hands in a push-up landing, but my face hit the powdery snow full on.  It was cold, but after six miles, I was warm.  As I returned to my feet, I looked up to see the Indian Peaks covered in a soft, white blanket.  That’s how I felt on my trail, cozy with the sun and snow.  It felt good.  Only in the fall’s winter.

My running trail dies every year, a slow decay as the sun’s rays angle lower on the horizon.  The air is cooler, the sun softer.  Colors are more varied, yet demure.  Rich in maturity.

On my return, as I run up the water tower hill, I see fresh snow on the Indian Peaks.  My legs respond with vigor.  My lungs are fuller.  There is no better time to run than in a Colorado October.

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After seeing everyone’s HOCO photos this weekend, it occurred to me I forgot to post one of Ellie from a couple of weekends past.

The first days of summer have been full of winter in Colorado, but I love watching a front come in while running the East Boulder hills.  There’s no better feeling than running into the oncoming weather.  Summer rain dropping the chill of mountain snowmelt.

I’m doing all my runs lately on the East Boulder Trail.  It’s nostalgic for me.  I ran this trail daily, nearly thirty years ago when I lived in the Gunbarrel Country Club area, across 75th from Heatherwood.

I was in my upper twenties and I acclimated to high altitude running on that trail.  I ran a 41 minute Bolder Boulder that year – 1990.  A decent time for that course.  I ran 43 minutes, twenty-five years later.  I still plan to break 40 minutes.  I like the idea of getting back into shape on this trail.

The grasses along the East Boulder Trail have grown quickly with all the moisture this spring.  The stems are waist high and my fingers brush through the spikelets as I run.  I think their lushness makes the trail cozy.  I like the experience.  It feels early in the season for the grasses to be so tall.  I hope they keep growing.

I remember running this trail in 1990, when I found my high altitude speed.  Half a year earlier, I’d lived at sea level.  I always launched my runs from the west side of 75th and my first mile took me to the top of the water tower hill.  The water tower is the high point and is a half mile climb, then a quarter mile flat stretch across the top, and a quarter mile drop into the hills.

I found my speed when another runner, young twenties, probably in college, passed me from behind on the far-side downhill.  He’d passed me on other days and I always let him go.  This time though, warmed up from the hill, I chased after him once he gained a good fifty meters lead.  I caught him easily and we ran together, chatting, for a couple of miles.  We were easily running a six minute pace, maybe faster, through the hills.  It felt good.

I rediscovered my speed on that run and I’ll never forget it.  I maintained my fitness for the rest of the year, until I got a job downtown and had to start commuting.  Then I had kids.  It would be another twenty-five years before I would run this trail fast again.

I’m not running fast now, but I can run the hills without walking.  That will get me back in shape.  Eventually.  The hills on the East Boulder Trail never disappoint.

Last weekend’s run in falling snow was nice.  The contrasting weather made today’s Indian summer run all that more special.  With these dream-like conditions, it’s almost as if God wants me to get outside for a run.

Over the past five weeks or so, I’ve lost ten pounds.  At 189, I’m running with confidence again.  Certainly not fast, but with strength over the white rock hills of the East Boulder Trail.  Those three days of running in southern Utah were the catalyst I hoped they would be.  Running is joyful again.

This is hands-down my favorite running season.  The air was crisp, the sun warm, and the Indian Peaks capped with fresh white snow.  The absence of those ten pounds were noticeable.  My legs felt strong running up the hills.

Afterward, we picked out pumpkins at Munson Farms.  Karen’s parents are in town.  Brit joined us with her fiancé, Eric.  And Ellie Rose brought her boyfriend, Will.  Along with pumpkins, I purchased some Munson yellow onions to stew a french onion soup for dinner  tomorrow.  The days might be warm still, but the evenings cool off, suggesting a fall menu.

I’m still running, if you can call it that.  I run the East Boulder Trail on Saturdays and Sundays.  Mountain trails are out of the question right now.  This trail is pedestrian enough for my current skills, while presenting me with hills that give my cardio a workout regardless of how slow I take them.  I have to tell you, it’s not fun.  As much as I love running, running fat is a painful exercise.  I’m doing it though to stay in the game.  I won’t always be fat.

I don’t expect to able to run my 3-day October event, the Grand Circle Trailfest.  A half marathon each day through Bryce, Zion, and the Grand Canyon.  At any time over the last nine years, I could run a half marathon at the drop of a hat.  Now, my ability to run a 10K without some walking is questionable.  I’ll likely try to defer this to next year.  The splash of realism in my face came last week from my doctor.  He said he won’t let me run it without agreeing to take some tests first.  What a wet blanket.  How did I fall so far, so fast?  I know how.

Typical story.  Lose weight slowly.  I lost an average of five pounds per year over a series of years.  Then I maintained it steady for awhile at what I think is my sweet spot, 175 pounds.  Then, cancer dropped me down to 165 for a couple years, and like everyone else, I’ll admit that didn’t look so good.  It did help me to run fast though.

After the 2017 Colorado Marathon, I stopped running almost completely.  I went from running on average seventy miles a week, burning and replenishing 3000 calories per day, to running about ten miles per week.  Problem is, I kept consuming those 3000 daily calories.  A man my age should maybe eat 2000 calories per day.  I gained thirty-five pounds in six months.  Fuck.

I know enough about nutrition and exercise to understand I need to focus first on diet, then exercise.  I’m starting to focus on it.  Change for most things comes through routine.  I know how to do that.  Of course, knowing how and doing it are two different things.  At the same time, I’m beginning to work more on my second book, which is essentially a second hobby.  And writing is more fun than running fat, so I tend to put more effort into the writing.

But I don’t want to give up running.  It’s been a constant throughout my life, with memories all the way back to childhood.  Forgive the play on words from the popular running and nutrition book, but I’m going to run fat and eat slow until I return to form.  Until I can run six miles again without having to walk every little hill.  That 3 day run through gorgeous national parks is probably out of reach this year.  That’s fine.  I just want to drop a good ten pounds so I can enjoy running in the Colorado fall.

Two days in a row running the East Boulder Trail, up and down the white rock cliffs.  These trails are easy, soft dirt, compared to the rocky mountain trails out around Lyons and Left Hand Road.  These dirt trails are a better fit for my current state of fitness.  The true mountain trails are so technical and I’ve lost some of the requisite skills of negotiating my footfalls along the path.  And they are much, much steeper, causing me to walk more than run.  I can generate a little bit more momentum over these dirt trails.  I can take my eyes off my feet and enjoy the views of the Indian Peaks.  You can see them in this photo, just over the crest of the hill in front of me.

The East Boulder Trail contains rolling hills through grasslands where, centuries earlier, the buffalo roamed.  Now I roam these hills, and have for the last twenty-eight years.  The grasses are nearing waist-high in some places.  We’ve been getting some good rain so far this season.

I ran all the hills, on a six mile out-and-back, yesterday.  It might have been cooler yesterday, and I ran really well.  Today, not so well.  No doubt, my legs were tired from yesterday.  I swear to you, the same hills were steeper today.  The trick is being able to climb the first big hill on the return without stopping.  My experience is if I stop there, like I did today near the top, then I’ll walk the final hill that leads up to the water tower – which I did today too.

Regardless, this trail always gives me a workout.  And the downside of each hill on the East Boulder Trail is generally rewarded with a nice view like this.  Sometimes, running in the mountains, you can’t see the forest for the trees.  The East Boulder Trail though always gives you an awesome view.  I will never tire of my runs on this trail.