7500 feet elevation and climbing

First off, I have never been a blog guy, nor do I care that much for them.... Long story short, I am being forced to do this. "Yes", I am being held to gun point.

I will not venture into pointless religion debates, my job, school, or even the secrets to life. This blog will be about one thing and one thing only, my running and my hopes in aspirations of making the Olympic Trials marathon. The route I have chosen is running a sub 65 half marathon (aiming to snag this qualifier in march of 11' at the Mardi Gras half in Louisiana), which is one of three qualifying routes to make the Olympic trials. To my name, I have a 14.16 personal best in the 5k, and as for a mega distance race, I tempo'd a 25k race last Febuary (15.5 miles) at a steady and comfortable pace of 5.18 mile. Would've been a lot faster if I really raced it... that's another story.

Now, that is out of the way.... it begins... "Another Day, Another Mile"

Over the July Fourth weekend, I had the pleasure of staying in a small altitude community, surrounded by numerous moutains, most of which ranging from 12,000-14,000 feet in stature, breath taking to say the least.


It is 80 degrees, and there is no humidity, "Awesome". There is no air, because this town sits at 7500 feet, "Damn".

As I start out on my run, with a slight sense of air headedness from lack of air, as well as, achey muscles from routine tough training... day in, and day out. The town quite as can be, seems to have a sense of what it really means to be a hard working blue collar citizen.

I see my destination that lays ahead, Mount "S" (I will leave my location a secret, it makes for a cool mystery type persona...) After a few miles, my stirde opens up from a 7 minute mile clip to 6 flat'ish' mile clip. My breathing has a sense of 'sucking air' sound... the sound you heard all to much in 8th grade gym class, when fat Freddy couldn't make the damn cut on hitting an 18 second suicide on the b-ball court... "So, Evvvvvveeeeeeeeryone had to do another suicide.... again and again... until Freddy made the cut!" And you know what, he never did. People will do as they want, they control their own destiny. Freddy chose his, and surely, his own path of fitness should not affect mine, or for that matter, poor little suzy who had 19 soccer games over the weekend... "Bless her heart".

Wait a minute, what was I talking about?!

Oh ya...

So, as I'm running alone in the oh so small mountain town, I'm striding along as asphalt turns into an old fashion dirt road and of course, there is not a house, nor a soul for miles on end, "I'm on my own".

As I drawl closer to Mountain S., the road begins to take an aggressive "upward" manner, "it will be all up hill from here"... Well, till I decide to head back home."

As I stride out, each foot strike making a crunching sound with the gravel, sweat beginning to build, heart starts to race, a steady rhythm beginning to develop as I push upward on this tough cookie of a mountain. Everything is starting to ache... in a good way. Yes, to a runner, that makes perfect sense. And yes... we are an odd group.

I have lived my whole life at 900 feet elevation... and now I'm pushing upward and climbing well past 7500... HELP ME BABY JESUS! Roughly around, to what I estimate 9500 feet, my run starts to become very surreal... "to surreal", haha... I begin to wonder if I'm being watched. I can't explain it, but for all I know, and to what I believe, there was a well rounded cougar waiting to prowl. To be honest, it would not be a fair fight... I was after all a star stud'd wrestler in junior high. Let's certainly not forget my comeback westling meet in 8th grade... Another day, another story.

Luckily, no cougar got up the courage to face it's certain death by challenging me. "Although", a fierce grey squirrel did, as it sprinted across my path... "Figures". Squirrels are God's little babies... those things are the most majestic animals that the world has to offer... "Obviously".

As I climb higher and higher, 'my' dirt road turns into a 'sketch' out trail, I begin to dig. Sweat continuing to build, causing a slight burn just outside my eyes, breathing laboring, heart racing and pounding to the extent I can litterally hear it, and of course, that lovely crunking sound of fresh gravel as each foot strike touches down and I power off the the tips of my toes. Roughly 10,000 feet in elevation.... it's time to head back, with a swift 180 degree turn... down the mountain! As I dart from turn to turn on the switchback trails, creating my own wind. I begin to feel more at ease. More-so, when I was 'trucking' upwards. As miles passed one by one and the run was coming to a close, I began to feel the euphpria of happiness that can only be felt from finishing a solid run. A total of 85 minutes at a steady, yet comfortable clip of 6 minute miles on average (at an average of 8000 + feet elevation!), run over. Success.

To note: Later in the day a second run occured, an 8 miler.... Another Day, Another Mile

-clay j. mayes the 3rd