I wont comment on the weather either Lisa!

No, I don't remember school being called because of snow either, but maybe it was.  I grew up near Buffalo, so maybe we just went regardless.

Did my WT yesterday, but for whatever reason, if was especially hard.  Today not sure what I will do, but it will be something.

I am quite boring....10 years ago was not much different than it is now, maybe because I am older?  I was not running the longer distances yet though, so that is different, I did not know all you lovely ladies.

Marjorie and those of you in the south and southeast, hope the storm is not as bad as predicted....keep warm and be careful.

Ginny

Good morning!  I'm heading to my mom's early since if it snows, they'll close the roads up here.

Funny on the comments about school.  DD went to school in Fairbanks and college in MN. Never a snow day. She did a year for AmeriCorps in Seattle and called me very excited that she finally had a snow day. Now the schools in Fairbanks get a weather day every year or two-usu because it's too warm for winter (30's) and they get black ice. That didn't happen much even 10-20 years ago.

Have a great day! I don't know what I'll do when I get to Mother's-prob walk.

I did Leslie Sansone  5 mile fat burning walk this morning.  I really liked it, gives you a great workout and keeps you moving the whole 5 miles!  Not boring either.  I prefer to the TM, although I guess it doesn't help my running much..

Ginny

I'm in Ft. Lauderdale today and tomorrow for meetings. I am not going to tell you the weather here. I plan to run after the meeting today - according to the agenda I should have time to get in at least 6 miles before dinner. These people tend to argue a lot over little things though (30 minutes on one sentence in a proposed ASTM standard this morning), so I hope the meeting doesn't run over into my running time. I wanted to get out this morning, but I didn't really know where I was going and the sun doesn't come up until 7, and I had to be cleaned up and down here by 7:30. If I get out this afternoon, hopefully I can scout out a few easy miles I can run tomorrow morning.

Tropical?  I wish. It was 70 yesterday but not today. Sleet will start soon.

Ran 10.5 this am. No one else was out running. I did have some guy taking his trash out tell me it was too cold to run. 30s isn't too cold. Temp was dropping but it wasn't like it was 0 or below

we expect to lose power later today. I also cancelled the HOA meeting.

Camille maybe a pretty curtain?  I'd have to see it.  ATL looks like it has a bunch of snow already.

I did not get any milk or eggs. We know we will lose power with all the ice we are going to get. Yuck. Hope it won't be out long. I do have fire logs and we have lots of blankets.

Lisa we did  have a few snow days but it was during the 1978 blizzard and some of the other major snow events (was it 1984 or 83 when the Super Bowl was in Detroit?). That week the storm was bad with ice etc.  we had a few in high school where the wind chill was so far below 0.

Carol have fun with EmR hell, I mean work.

Karen there is some great running in Ft L. Have fun.

Well, we are really having a winter storm.  Freezing rain.  Lots.  Several bridges are closed and they are telling everyone to stay home.  I actually have icicles at my house!!  Enjoying my day "teleworking".  Answered emails and knitted.  One of my friends came over for coffee this morning.  It was nice to pull out the pretty china.  Guessing tomorrow will be the same, as it is supposed to freeze tonight and will be too dangerous to drive in the morning.  I think everything will remain closed tomorrow.  Enjoying a little break.  Need to do my core and hip exercises tonight sometime.....

Working from home here too, since it's Tuesday. Catching up on a few things, but I spent most of the morning trying hard to finalize a deal. Got everything in. Now fingers crossed that they pick my option and not the guy from New York's...

Lisa and Ginny, you probably grew up in the coldest areas.  UP and upstate NY?

Sounds like everyone except us and Florida are having bad weather. Ours is fairly good.

Judy, I'd have thought you would be OK to walk home since it was a short walk...but face it, every walk for you is a short walk. *grin*

4 this morning with RN. She and I are recovering from Sunday's race:

Calico 2014

My fourth time doing Calico 50K. Hasn’t changed much. This year the weather was very nice – not too hot, a bit overcast, mild breeze. Better than last year’s arctic gale. Six of us left at 4 AM and drove out to Calico Ghost Town: RN, RNDH, their running club friends Dale and Jim and May. Dale is an experienced ultrarunner, Jim has done a number of ultras, this was May’s third ultra. RN did the 30K last year, none of the rest of them had done this race at all. I gave them a rundown of some of the notable aspects of the course, especially the “be aware” bits like the steep gully after Mile 18 and the whoop-ti-dos right after Aid 6.

This race has packet pickup at race start, which is nice. I get mine and it’s number 678, so I promptly do a “Chorus Line” style “A 5-6-7-8…!” number.

As usual, it is a fairly laid-back start. No chips, no corrals, just 150 people or so ready to spend a part of their day (or in some cases most of the day) running through the Mojave desert. National anthem, countdown, gun blast and off we go. The first mile is on asphalt as we run down the road that leads to the ghost town and veer off on the side road. I try to bank a little time here. Hmm. There’s a guy in front of me wearing compression tights that apparently have solid black sides and front and a mesh panel in the back. Not sure what this is supposed to accomplish. Cooler glutes? Freedom of movement? Let the gas leak? Whatever the explanation, it looks a bit funny.

The next few miles are on soft sand. I do not particularly enjoy this. Footing is dreadful. It’s been so dry that the sand is slippery and offers little traction. There’s a woman running in a blue dress ahead of me, she’s apparently using me as a pace bunny – she walks, I get alongside her, and she starts running again. This is a bit annoying but I’m not going to say anything. I may pass her later.

We get up and down some hills and soon see Aid 1 in the distance, at the 7 mile marker. Yay! Cantaloupe! It’s warming up, so I shed my LS cotton shirt and go with a SS tech shirt only. Some other runners are thinking the same thing about the heat, one removes her shirt and asks the aid station volunteer to daub her with BodyGlide before putting her Camelback back on. Ouch, there’s not enough Bodyglide in the world to get me to wear a Camelback over a sports bra. Too much chafing potential. I grab a handful of M&Ms and take off again.

The next bit is a long gradual incline up into the foothills. We’ve spread out quite a bit. I am surprised to see an almost-new pair of shoes sitting by the trail – I hope the owner isn’t having problems. I pass others then they pass me, those of us in the back are playing tag team.

The shoes appear to have been discarded by someone who’s running barefoot, because I see toe prints on the trail. Ouch. I’m going carefully because we are now in rocks and gravel and I face planted along this stretch last year. Up a small hill and the shoeless guy is sitting on the ground. He is having hip issues so he took off his shoes. (And didn’t carry them?) He is only doing the 30K and he does some barefoot running so thinks he can make it, though he is wishing he had some protection from the rocks – he has torn the sleeves off his shirt and wrapped them around the balls of his feet. I am dubious but impressed. I am greeted at this point by Gina, who I have met at a number of other SC ultras. We chat and catch up. On and up and down hills and Aid 2 is usually a surprise, you don’t see it until you’re right on top of it. Nice folks there. I grab melon and orange and potato chips and down a cup of Coke for the sugar rush. I know what’s coming.

There is a slot canyon where the scrambling starts, a stretch of this is power hike territory rather than run territory because of the loose rocks. I get up the canyon, say hi to Ernie who’s the marshal at the 50K/30K split, and turn left to go up the hill to start the long ascent to the high point. On the way out of the canyon I pass the woman in the blue dress, whose name (I find out) is Angelica. It’s her first time running this race.

Up and through a wash and up again, good thing the trail is marked because it would be easy to get very lost back here. We’re on the north side of the stretch of hills behind Calico town. This is at mile 14 and we now have a 4 mile steady climb to Aid 3. I can see Gina just behind me however I’m looking for a little privacy so take a side turn. She calls out in concern. (Nice woman!) I reassure her that I will be right back on the trail. I look at one shrub, go behind it, and oh YUCK. This is soft sandy soil. How can a trail runner not know how to dig a cat hole with his or her heel and bury what s/he left – including the used TP? Charming. I choose another saltbush to baptize and get back on the trail, I’m now about 100 yards behind Gina, who is catching up to a young man in a yellow tank top, but ahead of Angelica and a man in a white hat.

And so it goes all the way up the hill. Mile 15, Mile 16, Mile 17. This is a pretty part of the course. We had a bit of rain in December so there are tiny green plants out. I like this even though it’s a long climb, it’s not too steep and it’s very scenic. Steady slog up the valley, turn a corner, and there is Aid 4 on the edge of the escarpment. Fortunately it is not too windy this year.

Gina and Steven (yellow tank) are taking pictures standing at the edge of the cliff. Yikes. I wouldn’t want to be that close. The scenery in the background is gorgeous, a dry lake and mountains, but I don’t want to see it any closer than I am already. I help myself to more food. I love aid stations where the volunteers have baked brownies! As I’m scarfing a brownie May comes up the hill. She was not expecting that long an ascent. I tell her that that’s the longest uphill on the course, there are definitely more hills to come but that is the most relentless one.

Joan, who I’ve seen at just about every Calico I’ve done, trots up the trail and she’s coming into the aid station just as I leave. May and Gina are taking more pictures. I negotiate the side of the hill, then a very steep upslope to my least favourite part of the course. The Gully. Steep, slippery, crumbly rock. The volunteers standing at the top wish me luck and one comments that he would not go down that slope sober. I step out into the void – not literally – and start down. At first it’s not so bad because the small rocks are piled up and you can step on them. Then after a while you get to steep drops with some sand over them, which is probably the worst since you are going to slip. I sit on my bottom and go down that way at times. Better to look like a little kid than look like a head injury patient.

As I start down I hear shots that are way too close for my comfort. I look out over the plain at the bottom of the gully and see the shooters. They’re on the road a few hundred yards beyond the gully end, fortunately with targets set up away from the road but still it’s scary to hear them. May and Gina and Steven are just behind me, Joan comes past and we all agree that we don’t like hearing shots on a course. The only shots I want to encounter are those that come in a glass, thank you.

I make it down, shake out my shoes, and start on the next portion, which as a reward for the scramble down the gully is 3 miles of gentle downhill running on not too bad fire road. Some sandy patches and some rocks but runnable. May catches up, we run together for a while, then she pulls ahead of me. Gina and Steven are behind us, Joan’s well ahead. I know there are a few other runners behind our scattered group, too.

Aid 4 is just about out of water, fortunately I filled my bottle at 3. The volunteer has drinks and food, though. May is still there. We refuel and set off again, running together up into the hills for the last third of the course. This is old mining ground and we have steep hills, lots of rocks, more target practice (not at us!) and little cover. We know there is going to be some climbing here, and when May has to step off the trail she tells me to go ahead. I do. I can see Joan up at the top of the hill I’m about to run up. This is steep and I put my head down and power up it, cursing the topography that makes you think you are cresting and then you find out you have more. Finally reach the top and head down and around some more trail to Aid 5. This is where the 30 and 50K courses come together momentarily and then diverge, 50K is tougher than 30K. I should have asked about the barefoot guy but don’t think to. Checking results, it looks as if his wife, running the 50K, beat him in – she 5:21, he 5:46. Wow. Considering how many people drive out there with a case of Bud Light in glass bottles and a case of ammunition and finish the first and then use the bottles as target practice for the second, I would not want to be running out there barefoot. I hope he had had a tetanus shot recently.

May catches up with me again and from then we are running together. Up and along a ridge, then some nasty steep sandy descent. It’s very easy to get lost right here. We head through a slot canyon with red rock sides, out onto a plateau, cross that and then get up into some small hills for the last aid station and last bad stretch of course. As we climb up to Aid 6 we see Gina, about half a mile behind us, start out onto the plateau. Apparently Steven has dropped behind her. We stop at Aid 6, find that all their pain relievers have expired, drink and eat a little, and press on. I tell May it’s not that much further but we have some tough terrain ahead of us. We leave, shouting greetings to Gina who is coming up the hill towards the aid station.

And this is where it gets interesting. The next stretch is what I call “whoop-ti-dos”, little steep humps and drops. This is hardpan with sand over it and very slippery, footing is unsure, there are about 8 of them in all. We get to the top of the first one. May looks down at the ground and says “is that blood?” It is. At the top of the next hill is a runner, woman in her 50s, who is trying to wrap up an injured hand. She fell on the first hill, landed awkwardly on one hand, and peeled her pinky fingernail clean off. It’s bleeding and dirty and she is in pain, but she is also cussing her boyfriend out in absentia for getting her into this. Trail angels show up in a 4-wheeler and bandage her hand, they offer to try to get her out but she eventually decides she’ll try to go on when May and I offer to stay with her. She’s most afraid of falling again and not being able to catch herself because of the injured hand. We struggle through this stretch, occasionally sitting down, often sliding. At one point May and I are holding her hands so she can keep her balance. June, the hurt runner, says her boyfriend told her that this race is “just like the trails we run at home” (Red Rock Canyon outside LV) and she signed up thinking this would be familiar territory. According to her, it is NOT similar at all, and when she sees her BF she is going to give him a good piece of her mind. We nod sympathetically and let her vent. She has a right to rant!

We finally make it through the whoop-ti-dos and come down into a dry riverbed. Another course volunteer here, he’s an EMT and he says he’ll radio ahead to let the finish line people know June’s coming in and needs medical attention. She wants to finish. We three head down the river, get told to stay on the side by a course marshal up on the bank with binoculars, find the side canyon that is the trail up to the last piece of course. Up, then the nastiest bit as far as I’m concerned – we can see the town but because of making up the distance we have an out and back away from the finish line for another half mile each way. Rocky nasty trail. We see Gina up ahead, she passed us while June was being bandaged, and we slowly trot down the last bit of trail and into the ghost town campground. There are several campers there and they shout encouragement. (I find out later that RN stopped and accepted their offer of a beer.) We have to go around two small hills and then up the full length of the parking lot, past the stairs we climbed to get to the ghost town itself, and up the service road at the back of the town so we can come down the “Main Street” to the finish line. That last hill is not a bad hill compared to the rest of the course but right now it is a killer. We try not to step on any rocks. We call the hill lots of bad words. We make it to the top, past the ranger’s home, turn, and do the final couple hundred yards to the finish line. 8:37:22 is the official finishing time for all three of us and we cross it with hands linked and upraised.

June’s boyfriend is waiting for her and hustles her off to the medical truck, he’s heard what happened. RN, RNDH, Dale, and Jim are all here for us as we cross, we explain why we were later than planned. There’s supposed to be food for the runners but there’s barely anything left. I go buy a diet Coke and chug it. We stand around for a while talking with the other runners. June returns, bandaged up. The EMT thinks her pinky is broken and has advised her to go see her doctor tomorrow, or to the ER tonight if she can’t stand it. She is not happy, her hand is throbbing, but she is functioning. Gina’s still there too, waiting for Steven to come in. He finally appears and we all cheer for him. Runners are still straggling in.

We head down the steps, cheer a few more walkers coming up the parking lot, pile into the truck, and head for our sumptuous buffet of choice after this race: the food court at Costco in Victorville. That food disappears very quickly. I only wish the food court had a beer and wine license! We drove here in the dark and we drive back in the dark, it’s a long way and the days are short. I’m glad I did this one again, and happy that there was a good turnout. A race in a part of the state that not many people ever see except from an airplane, and worth seeing.