On September 28, I arrived at the small Colorado town of Palmer Lake just before dawn. I wasn't alone. 137 other souls entered the 24 hour race. Volunteer staff, the race organizer, the race timer, pacers, and friends and family also braved the crisp morning air.

An "Ultra" is any footrace that exceeds the marathon distance of 26.2 miles. Runners enter the 24 Hours of Palmer Lake to test their endurance in a slightly more forgiving environment than the typical Ultra trail race. The route is a 0.82 mile loop around the lake in the center of town. Flat. Mostly smooth, hard-packed gravel.

The weather was perfect. Highs in the 70s, lows in the 50s. Runners set up canopies and tents, or just a camp chair and a cooler. The aid station was well-stocked with water, electrolyte drinks, and at night - coffee. The snacks ranged from gummy worms, cookies, and Doritos to watermelon, bananas, and sweet potato chips.

When the start was announced, people did not dart off at lightning fast paces. We all knew we were going to be here a long time. This is a distance competition. Speed is only necessary to ensure you complete the number of miles you want within that 24 hours.

My daughter's goal was to complete a little over 40 miles. Mine was to do a marathon. Both of us wanted to pack in as many miles as we could before noon. As the day wore on, we inevitably slowed down and took more breaks. Our husbands were pacers for brief stints - a pacer being a person encouraging the runner, but not entered in the race. Even two granddaughters did a lap around the lake.

When the sun went down, we were excited. We'd made it this long. Then 12 hours passed. When we reached midnight - 16 hours - and we were still circling the lake, we felt accomplished. Neither of us had trained with the distances required to make this possible. Despite a lack of training, we felt strangely... good.

(Shout out to Judy Fellhauer and the Women's FIT Team for years of coaching, giving us a strong fitness base to enable us to run/walk much farther than we should have been able. We'd both been following Coach Judy's program consistently, just not at Ultra levels.)

Then around 1am, things got weird. Sasquatch appeared. Runners and pacers donned blinking colored lights. A local guy set up his RV next to the trail and played DJ, dressed in a different costume every few laps. Headlamps bobbed like fireflies bouncing along the trail. When a rainbow unicorn trotted by, I asked my daughter if I was seeing things. 

At one point, I lost my confidence I was really at the lake, walking brisk laps in the middle of the night. Then, despite the smooth path, I feared I might stumble and fall. I felt wobbly. Unstable both mentally and physically.

I wrapped up in the giant gray blanket my husband insisted I bring, and took a break on a comfy camp chair. Cocooned in its fluffy depths, I began to consider calling it quits. I had achieved a marathon distance.  My daughter kept going. During one stop at our camp, she reminded me I was sooo close to a 50K (30 miles) that if I walked just a pinch more, I could complete my first Ultra. I unfurled myself from the blanket and continued a few more loops.

At 2:30, my son-in-law called to check on my daughter. Both husbands had offered to come get us at any time that night, although we thought we could make it to 8am and the official end of the race. My daughter continued a few more laps, to surpass her own goal of over 40 miles. Then we hemmed and hawed for 20 minutes, discussing whether we needed to stay after reaching our mileage goals.

Common sense won out. We accepted rescue by a wonderful guy willing to sacrifice his own sleep to come get his crazy wife and mother-in-law. At 3:30 am we turned in our timing chip shoe tags, accepted our finisher awards, and went home.

Rather than curing me of the running bug, I am crazier than ever about distance running and walking. Maybe it's partly the excellent leadership behind the 24 Hours of Palmer Lake Ultra event, making it so much fun. Maybe it's the intensity of pushing myself so hard. Whatever the reason, I'll be back out on the trails soon. After another recovery day. Or two...

This summer, I noticed a pair of nice outdoor-style chairs tucked beneath the trees. Not in someone's yard. Between the walking trail and Cottonwood Creek.

People have created dirt trails parallel to the official trail and the creek. Or maybe deer originally carved them out, and people just discovered and made use of them. I like running on these because there's more shade, the trail surface is softer, and the scenery is more interesting. There are more curves, dips, and obstacles to keep me alert.

The two chairs became a curiosity for me. I enjoyed seeing them and imagining who put them there. Why? I mused about the possibilities in a previous post.

Then one day, the chairs moved! They were relocated to a new spot under the trees. A couple weeks later, they moved yet again. 

Then one day, they were gone. I watched anxiously as I jogged by, hoping they'd simply been moved to a fresh location. But they were nowhere I could see. I wondered whether the owners had taken the chairs home. The overnight temperatures are in the 50s now. If the chairs were used for a morning coffee break, maybe the owners decided it was too chilly for this routine.

I have a neighborhood app. People report happenings, good or bad. Kind of an electronic neighborhood watch. To my surprise, the chairs were reported!
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"Missing folding chairs?If anyone is missing these cute folding bistro chairs LMK. They were in the woods behind Timberwood Ct"

So far, no one has claimed them. I will miss seeing the chairs in the woods. Perhaps the changing season will provide new entertainment. 

I toot my horn on the Pikes Peak Writers blog - Writing from the Peak. My newest release from Annie's Publishing is a romantic suspense set in Utah canyon country. 

When Amy Brackstone and her friend Valerie join a tour group and head into the Utah wilderness, they get much more adventure than they bargained for.  A series of near-perilous events puts Amy on high alert and forces her to relive painful memories. The only saving grace is Jonah Stedman, their tour guide, who is strong, capable, and hell-bent on keeping everyone alive – Amy most of all. ​

Part of the Hearts In Peril series, you can subscribe to receive all the thrilling romances here: https://www.anniesfiction.com/products/hearts-in-peril

Okay. NOW you can break out the pumpkin spice.

Last weekend, we drove east of Pueblo, Colorado, to farm country. Farmers harvest their crops in September. Seasonal stands offer a variety of locally grown fruits and vegetables. Which means: roasted chilies. 

Here's an explanation of the roasted chili: you go to a farm stand and tell them which type of chili you want. Mild, medium, hot? The chilies are placed in roasters - a mesh barrel that spins over a propane flame (photo below). An attendant sprays water on them at intervals.

When they're done, the bag of hot roasted chilis is handed to you. Hurry home for the next phase: lopping off the stem end, husking off most of the burnt skin, and removing the seeds. Did I forget to mention, wear gloves? Especially for the hot varieties. Believe me, those hot chilies can actually burn your skin. 

Bag them up. Be sure to label them mild, medium, or hot so you don't have any unpleasant surprises when cooking later.  Place in the freezer for future use.

My description fails to capture the delicious odor of the roasting chilies. It permeates the farm stand. Driving home, and for a day or two afterward, my car smelled of chilies.

On the gardening front, the first day of autumn brings change. My home garden is shrinking. We pulled the bean plants, cucumber vines, and tomatoes that have stopped producing. We'll continue to get greens until the first hard freeze.

This time of year gets busy at my house. I'm not getting in as many hours writing fiction as I'd like, but soon my schedule will calm down. My focus has been on completing a final-final-final version of the YA I'm coauthoring with my daughter.

Here are photos of my mini-adventure.

Going to my annual physical, I was happy to see the autumn décor in my doctor's waiting room. Even if it was a week and a half too early. I stubbornly cling to the remaining summer season.

I love seeing the colorful leaves, pumpkin cutouts, orange string lights, and pumpkin spice everything. But let's be clear about this. It's technically still summer.

My gardening - writing theme continues as long as there's a season to report on. Tuesday, I posted on the Type M for Murder blog. You can read my thoughts on preparing to garden or to write a story here: ​https://typem4murder.blogspot.com/2024/09/preparation.html  

In both gardening and writing, I believe in preparation, outlining and mapping. Do things always go as planned? Certainly not. But I find it difficult to get started, and nearly impossible to finish, without a plan.

I am a firm believer in Plotting, unlike Donis Casey at Type M for Murder. Donis is a Pantser through and through. You can read her completely different take on the writing process here: typem4murder.blogspot.com/2024/09/its-miracle.html

September is a busy time for gardeners and farmers. If you've grown a successful crop, now you have to do something with it. We're driving to the produce stands east of Pueblo Colorado soon to stock up on roasted chilies. I'll write more about this next week. Here's a photo of last year's crop. We won't purchase quite this many, but we do like our chilies!

Are you eager for fall? Sad to see summer end? Or a little of both?

Taking a break from writing and gardening, I went for a run at a local park. There is a wide greenway along the creek for many miles. Dirt paths wind through dense foliage near the reliable water source.

This is the second time I've noticed two wooden chairs. Tucked under the shade of cottonwood trees, the trees are almost hidden.

I know they weren't placed here and abandoned. They've moved. 

Who placed the chairs here? I want to assume a nearby resident dragged the chairs down the slope to the shady spot near the creek. My first impression was someone seeking solitude, but there are two chairs.

I have several theories.
1) Teens hiding from their elders to smoke forbidden substances. If so, I'd expect to see evidence of a munchie attack in the form of candy wrappers and soda pop cans, but the area is clean.
2) Young parents in need of a quiet place to escape a harried household.
3) Friends taking a break to vent about work, or dating, or just to share a laugh.
4) Retirees on a fixed income taking advantage of a nearby nature spot when their funds won't support a vacation.

Consider this a writing prompt, or just an imagination stretching exercise. Who do you think brought the chairs to this public greenway? Why? What would you do with these chairs in a relatively secluded spot?

I wonder whether the chairs will remain as the weather becomes cooler.

It seems too soon in the season, but my tomatoes are slowing down. Cool nights cause the plants to stop producing flowers and ripening fruits. This doesn't mean my work is ending. The changing weather shifts me into a different gardening gear.

In the same way, finishing a book doesn't mean I'm done writing. My focus adjusts to different tasks.

I received my author copies of a book I wrote for Annie's Publishing. It was a departure from my usual cozy murder mysteries, making it a challenge. And a whole lot of fun. I am grateful for my daughter's assistance with this book. Her input was invaluable.

The inside cover blurb reads: When Amy Brackstone and her friend Valerie join a tour group and head into the Utah wilderness, they get much more adventure than they bargained for. A series of near-perilous events puts Amy on high alert and forces her to relive painful memories. The only saving grace is Jonah Stedman, their tour guide, who is strong, capable, and hell-bent on keeping everyone alive - Amy most of all.

Drawing on my family's experiences hiking in Utah, and our encounters with the mazes of canyons, potentially dangerous wildlife, and unpredictable weather, I hope Rapid Fear is an exciting read. 

This novel is completed. I can do some promotion, making sure people are aware of the series and my installment in it. But there's no more revising. The project is done.

I've shifted my focus to the YA I'm assisting my daughter to polish. I'm outlining book four in my Rose Creek series. And I have short stories, plus two potential new series, to think about. 

Just like my writing projects are always in process, the garden is never truly done. Certainly the beds, pots, and containers may soon be sleeping under a blanket of snow for a few months. But even then, there will be tasks to be done.

This weekend, I trimmed yellowing leaves and branches from my tomato plants, cleared out green bean vines that were done producing, and harvested and dried mint and principe borghese tomatoes. In a bit of optimism, I pulled zucchini plants from a growbox and planted lettuce seeds.

It's too soon to talk about winter. We haven't even reached fall yet. There are three more weeks of summer. Let's not rush through these last precious days.
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I was invited to list five best books with a theme. Mine is novels featuring women amateur sleuths and clever cats solving mysteries in small towns. As a bonus, all five are book one in a series.

My list appears on a fun website that is trying to replicate the joy of browsing a physical bookstore's shelves. Physical bookstores are becoming a relic. By all means, support your local bookstore! I see this venture as an aid to finding your next favorite read. It's on you whether you order through the Big A, or request it through a physical store.

To use the website, you search for a topic or theme of interest, and authors list their choices of "best" or "favorite." 

​Have fun browsing at Shepherd.com. 

Running on a trail last week, I was jarred to a halt by this sight. Two wooden chairs sitting where I would not expect. This is a public greenway. These chairs were clearly not placed here by the city.

Tucked into the foliage, set back from the trail several yards, the chairs invite passersby to sit. Relax. Contemplate the brief summer season.

Between gardening and writing, my summer has been busy. I'm shocked it is late August. Pumpkin spice everything is beginning to crowd the grocery store shelves.

Let's not rush things. The first day of fall is September 22. That's nearly a month away.  We have plenty of summer left.

I'm just getting hints of my garden drawing production to an end. I've removed a few plants that were no longer producing. But most of the plants are still going strong. 

My writing is, too. I'm nearing completion of a very rough draft for the fourth book in my Rose Creek series. I'm contemplating beginning a new cozy mystery series. I need to polish a short story. Two projects are out in the big wide world, waiting on acceptance or rejection.

All that dirt under my fingernails, or fingers hammering on the keyboard, are proof I'm moving toward something. Crops to harvest or stories to sell. Busy, busy, busy.

But those chairs, oddly placed in the thick summer growth, reminded me of the thing I'm not so good at. Stopping to enjoy the view. 

Weeding a neglected garden plot revealed a hidden treasure. I blog about pulling both weeds and words at Type M for Murder: https://typem4murder.blogspot.com/2024/08/treasure-hidden-in-weeds.html
#homegardening
#typemformurder
#writinglife ​