This weekend on a drive home, I took a break for the Thomas Lakes Trail below Mount Sopris, which has become my default outing in the area.
I saw two groups of people in my 2 1/2 hours: a young guy in spotless new pseudo-gangsta-skate-snowboard-influenced clothing and his hottie, and three chatty hipsters up near the lakes. Other than that, dead silence for hours, except for squirrels, birds and aspen leaves. Chatter. Chirp. Rustle.
The trail is occasionally rugged, but it's graded gently so it's not to bad for running in spite of some elevation gain.
I ran up onto the sunlit ridge on the far left:
My fingers started to go numb near treeline, since I was in shorts and the trail was in shadows and it was about 45 degrees. And the sunlit ridge was no longer sunlit.
Distance was 10.05 miles, time 2:30 (moving 2:07), elevation gain/loss 2,077 feet, avg. pace 14:56 (moving 12:39), and best pace 7:01.
On the drive downhill on the dirt road, there was a Range Rover in the bushes next to a hairpin turn, with a deflated airbag inside and a sheriff's car taking down facts. Please forgive me if sympathy is not my first reaction. Physics always wins over hubris.