Sharing the Road

Dan and I are getting in shape for some wilderness back-packing trips this spring and summer that include hiking in slot canyons and climbing fourteen-ers. In the interest of achieving some short-term fitness goals, I signed us both up for a 5K at Gateway Canyons Resort that took place January 31. When my mother got wind of this plan she was very supportive. “Dan? Dan’s running in a 5K?” “Well, he’s just starting out so he’ll walk some of it, but I probably will too since I haven’t been running much lately.” “Oh hell,” she said. “I can walk it and beat Dan. I’m signing up. I’ll kick his butt!” Suddenly, it was on. For the next two weeks I was in the middle of a Frazier-Ali brag fest. My mom called me almost daily with updates on her training. She logged lap after lap on the track at Lincoln Park. I walked with her on the river trail and gave her some advice on what to wear and carry with her on race day. Meanwhile Dan joined a gym and booked every available hour on the racquetball courts, and took full advantage of the cardio-theater. “Dan,” I pleaded after a conversation involving finish line antics. “You have to go easy on my mother. Come on, she’s 73, broke her ankle a year ago, had a heart attack six months ago and carries nitro pills!” “That’s not true!” my mother disputed. “I’m 74.” “If your mother beats me, I will shoot myself with my own pistol.” proclaimed my generally mild-mannered honey. My mother came to Dan’s birthday party and encouraged him to have extra shots of Tequila and more ice cream cake. The night before the race, Dan said he wanted to call my mother, in spite of it being 10:30 p.m. “You’ll wake her up,” I said. “I know. I don’t want her to be well-rested.” Nothing like a friendly competition. On Saturday morning, Dan and I set out for Gateway Canyons on a beautiful, blue-sky day. (I spent most of the drive with ice packs on my foot, but this is not my story.) At one point we saw my parent’s Honda pulled over on the side of the road. “I think they’re just letting the dog out to tinkle, but we should stop and make sure they’re OK,” I requested. “No way! This is one time I know I can pass her,” Dan said as he sped by them. Oh brother. What had I wrought? Me, Dan, Joyce, Sam It was fun to watch them get their bib numbers and line up with 27 other runners, one of whom was Sam Stiles, Daily Sentinel reporter extraordinaire. I chatted with several people I knew from past runs and met some wonderful new people. (But this is not my story.) Dan and my mom stretched their quads and calves as they listened carefully to the race director’s instructions on the run’s logistics and route. Before you knew it, the gun fired and we were off! Ready to rumble I took my place in line near the rear of the pack as usual, with Dan, my mom, some little kids and several dogs just behind me. The route took us around the grounds of the resort on a wonderful, easy-on-the-body crushed granite trail. I huffed and puffed my way along, pausing to joke with some resort employees, my dad, and Cheena my parent’s hairy dog. On my second lap I ran for a while with a gentleman named Bill who was just getting back into running. He had been out for about a year with an injury, and shared with me what he had learned about Chi running. (Very interesting and I would tell you more but this is not my story.) Although I thought I might, I didn’t see Dan or my mom on either of my laps. After I crossed the finish line, I went back to look for them. I searched for a blaze orange vest that Dan had on when he started out but didn’t see that. I did see a man running along the upper edge of the trail. "He'll be comin' round the mountain...." “Wait - I recognize that Indiana Jones hat,” I thought. “Hey, that’s Dan and he is running! Wow, look at him go!” I looked around for my mom thinking she must be just behind him, or that he had pushed her over the edge of the trail. Dan triumphantly crossed the finish line to the cheers of the crowd, and his face rightfully glowed with pride. Or maybe it was just sweat. Dan crosses the finish line with my dad and Cheena With a note of concern the race director asked, “Have we seen Joyce?” “Ummm no, but we’re going to look for her.” "Anybody seen my wife?" As we set off across the grounds towards the upper trail I had a moment of panic envisioning my mother lying alone in the middle of the trail, her hand clutched around her bottle of nitro pills. Just then she came into view and I cheered her on. There she is, somewhere out there “Yeah - you’re almost done! A hundred yards to the finish line!” “I rate this experience right up there with childbirth and root canal,” she grumbled. “Don’t worry mom. Any minute that runner’s high will kick in!” I encouraged her. Dan chivalrously escorted her across the finish line to applause from the crowd, and Cheena the hairy dog jumped up and down with excitement at seeing her grandma again. Woo-hoo! At the post-race prize drawing we all won socks. Dan won a size small so I got two pair - doesn’t seem fair, though. As for race times - they both finished in fine fashion. (I would tell you my time, but this is not my story.) We all celebrated with some delicious turkey-rice soup and cold beer. I chuckled as I listened to the two of them discuss their shin splints, nuances of the trail, proper footwear, and calf-stretching techniques like a couple of seasoned 5K participants. Which technically, they both are now. I am very proud of both of them. Nobody committed hari-kari and in spite of my mother’s comments, I know she enjoyed the experience. She wore her bib number attached to her sweat shirt all day, and she loves those prize socks. As soon as she gets clearance from her cardiologist - she is ready to sign up for the Sweetheart Run in Fruita next weekend. As for Dan, he can hardly wait for the 10K I signed us up for at the end of February. Even though this is not my story, here's my picture with Bill.