Here's what I saw out the window:
Yes, that would sunshine slanting against the mountain. Sunshine in Alaska means: Get thee ass outside pronto. This is because the sun is like a no-good man: You never know how long it's gonna stick around.
So I got my ass outside, but not pronto enough since I had to attend a couple of functions for work. By the time I hit the trails it was 3 p.m., about a half hour from sunset.
I took the dog to Lost Lake Trail and met J, a local runner I hope to train with on Mt. Marathon this summer (she's wicked fast on the downhill, which is my biggest weakness) coming back down the trailhead and soon learned that the trail was packed and fast. I was SO excited. The last time I ran the it was icy and slow.
I yanked on my YakTrax (Oh, how I love thee, YakTrax) and took off. The trail is basically uphill the whole way, with a few places that level off before plunging back up the mountain.
Here's a section right before a wicked incline. Isn't it peaceful and lovely? It reminds me of a Christmas card.
Forty minutes later I reached the cabin where the groomed path ended. I was cold, since I was in the open and there was a fierce wind. Yet I lingered a few minutes, taking it all in: The mountains and the sky and the
utter aloneness of the place.
The forest service cabin looks like something from a children's book, all alone on the mountain, nothing else around for miles and miles.
Running back down is always fun. Today it was fast, and my dog, who is 11-years-old and refuses to act her age (you go, girl!), had a blast charging down full speed. I took it a bit slower because face it, a twisted ankle miles from the trailhead in light running clothes with no one else around wouldn't be a fun situation.
And down .....
My hair was iced when I got back to the car and I had to stop at the Safeway for cat litter (expensive down here--can't the cats, like, poop a little less a save me a some money?) and when I got home, the front door was open. Yeah, I hadn't closed it all the way and the wind had pushed it open. It was FREEZING inside, and I was wet and sweaty.
And then, my horrid diesel burning stove wouldn't stay lit, I guess the chimney is iced over. I sat in the bathroom and shivered with the space heater going full speed while a second space heater slowly warmed up the living room.
But there was veggie stew for dinner, and warm muffins, and best of all, a new book to read.
Running: 5.5 miles, trails
Reading: "The One True Story of the World" by Lynn McFall