This is the enormous stallion sculpture that greets visitors. It seems relatively harmless from a distance, until you come around and see the demonic glowing eyes, which are yellow in the day and red in the night. For a more versatile horror experience, obviously.
|Good Fucking Christ.|
And you hear that it killed its creator. I am not making this up: the scultpure fell on the sculptor and killed him. It is the spawn of Satan.
Aside from the terrifying welcoming committee, Boulder was fantastic. It's a great city, and I left feeling rejuvanated, inspired and ready to take on anything. Except, as it turns out, a 24-hour schlep to Germany with an 8 hour time difference that wiped the floor with me. But more on that later.
Ostensibly, I was there to run the Bolder Boulder 10K. If anyone is looking for a good starter race, this one is great. It feels like a parade where the crowds run by the floats instead of vice versa. It's relaxed, fun, and doesn't involve any terrifying fund raising. And once I was acclimated to the altitude, Boulder is perfect place to run. The natural splendor is a great alternative to a stairmaster, and the city seems to revolve around fitness. Everything is organic, there are more yoga studios than you can shake a stick at, and no one will judge you if you stand around shaking sticks at yoga studios. Maybe it's all that medical marijuana.
In reality, I was there to see my oldest friend in the world. Not oldest age-wise, obviously. In fact, she kicked my ass to keep running for the last .5 kilometers which, she cheerfully pointed out, only went halfway up an enormous hill. She also didn't judge me when I mumble-wheezed something profane in response.
|Not pictured: beer.|
NOTE: for more on the race, and how I trained, click here.