Sixteen

Ever since the move to Eureka, I have always thought that the area looked a lot like Anchorage. If it were only 20 degrees colder here, it would be. And I'm not talking about the dirty, disgusting brown of Anchorage, but the natural beauty of a city nestled between the mountains and the sea. Yesterday morning, it was just that. As Matt and I drove to the trail for our long run, on Hwy 101, I couldn't stop snapping pictures of the snowy mountains. At sea level, little evidence of snow existed. But up in the hills, they were snow capped and gorgeous. Of course, I had brought the running camera, lightweight but takes only blurry photos from the car, so I have nothing good to show you. But I nearly cried at how beautiful and different it all looked.

As we loaded up the pack at the trail head, I debated what to wear. Running in Arcata (about 10 miles from our house) always has different weather than when we leave home. A dark cloud drifted overhead. Looked intense, probably hail. I dressed for a run at 30F, even though it was nearly 40. I'd need it in the rain. This particular course is nice in the fact that we run a 2 mile out-and-back and return to the car, before going another 7 out in a different direction. Always a second chance to change my mind about my outfit. As we ran into the wind, rain started to fall. Then it turned fluffy. For a moment I thought I was dreaming. Snow? At sea level? This happens once a year and I got to witness it. :) The snow continued as we ran into the dark cloud. "Please don't hail, please don't hail", I begged Mother Nature. I can handle rain and snow, but hail hurts a LOT. It was really windy. Matt assured me that it was localized wind generated by the storm. I tried to believe him.

Trying to outrun the cloud.

About mile five, we actually ran through the other side of the small storm. Sunshine greeted us, like an apology for the wind and snow on our run.

Running buddy!

At mile 8 we reached the lookout point, my favorite part of the trail, overlooking the ocean, the sand dunes and the Trinidad Head, jutting defiantly out of the sea.

Look at those waves! That is one angry Pacific Ocean today!

We hit the turn around at nine miles and after that many miles of fumbling with taking gloves on and off, I finally abandoned them and one of my shirts. I couldn't continue on being this overheated and bathing in my own sauna suit of layers. I tugged off the shirt and immediately felt better. A cool breeze blew through my soaked shirt. The wind suddenly turned on the air conditioning. The entire return trip I felt refreshed, almost wishing for sunglasses.

Another storm lurking just offshore.

Per a very wise reader suggestion, I decided to run the last mile as a tempo. I also tried to run even splits, which sound easy in theory but really really hard in execution. I go out too fast. This is why I am so terrible at doing "tempo specific" runs. I picked up the pace gradually: mile 14 at 8:40, mile 15 at 8:15, my last mile in 8:03. Mentally reining myself in at the beginning was harder than I thought it would be. By the turnaround point at mile 9, I remember mentioning to Matt that I had finally found my goal pace, a sustainable. For now I feel like I have to keep it a secret so I don't jinx myself. I'm weird like that. I did run a negative split though, which I'm happy about. 1:17 on the first 8, 1:12 on the last. Maybe I should've taken my sweaty layers off sooner, hey?

PS- My knee did great! There's still a slight twinge of something not being quite right, but it doesn't resemble pain in the least bit. Yay knee!!! :)


And we got hail that night. Wonderful pea-size hail. Yes, I noted the size. (I even have two hail measurement rulers which I keep at home and in my car.) I am married to a weatherman after all. :) Similar hail fell at our home that night and remained until this morning. I thought it was snow as I raised the shades out to my deck. But it was hail, still there from the freeze last night.

He looks really happy to see our car covered in hail, doesn't he?
I love my weather nerd.