Agile Toes

Desert, dust, dunes, and more dust

2012-02-07T12:58:00.000-05:00

Chapter 3

To recap, chapter 1 was a year of fun & adventures, chapter 2 was a year of massive PR’s and pushing myself, and chapter 3? Well…it’s certainly going to be interesting, I’ll give it that.

The last half of 2011 was devoid of races (as you can tell by the lack of posts…). I was battling an injury which was finally resolved with custom orthopedic inserts (thanks Dr. Lane!—no relation), I started a new, somewhat stressful job, and needed time to take care of myself without thinking about how far/fast I needed to run that day. I suppose it happens to us all eventually.

Here we are in 2012, and I find myself in yet another unusual situation. I’ve deployed overseas for a while, not really sure what the end point is from here on out. And for those who have seen the “Leatherneck” special on the Discovery Channel, that is now what I call home. Since most of my friends have no idea what the situation out here is like, I’ll divulge the important stuff.

The desert is very cold in the winter, it’s rather offsetting. It isn’t as bad as northern areas in the States, but you’re constantly exposed which makes it that much worse. Imagine walking a mile to work when it’s 25 degrees out. Not as fun anymore, huh?

When it does warm up, it seems to rain. Afghanistan rain sucks. It smells, it makes the ground all gross…there is mud for weeks. On top of that, we’re blessed with steady winds of 20-30mph. My ponytail blows out at a 90 degree angle from my head. Not normal.

A typical day for me starts around 8am-9am (depending on whether my bladder or my alarm clock wakes me). I throw on warm clothes and rush out to a porta-potty. A freezing cold one, at that. I head out for a run—whatever distance feels good that day—and hit the showers, which are usually hot. It’s a sad day when there’s no hot water.

I then walk incredibly slow to work. There’s something about walking right after running that makes me want to take my time. I’m usually bundled up in my ski jacket, scarf and beanie. Apparently I look like I’m ready to hit the slopes, because I’ve been given 2 nicknames so far—Snow Bunny and Snow Plow. Not a big fan of Snow Plow, personally.

I work until pretty late at night, depending on how much stuff needs to get done. So far the days are absolutely flying by, no complaints here. The food, on the other hand, has room for serious improvement. Obviously I’m happy that we aren’t eating MRE’s, but I still feel like complaining. They can step it up a notch. Everything they serve is ridiculously unhealthy. It’s either fried, covered in cheese, drenched in creamy sauce, or straight up dipped in butter. I eat the exact same thing every day…salad with lunchmeat, or a whole wheat tortilla with turkey or tuna. Literally every day. It takes the guessing out of the equation, I suppose. I’m also hungry all the time. My fault, it’s no news to me that I’m a picky eater.

Oatmeal & Peanut Butter...3 times a day.

The one thing I really have going for me is that I have an awesome room.

So anyways, back to running…

I jumped in to running pretty quickly, and after struggling briefly with mere 8-12 mile runs, I’m finally back up to 65+ miles a week. Nothing crazy, but I’m stoked that I’ve remained injury free. I’ve lost a decent amount of weight right off the bat, now I just have some refining to do. Believe you me, there was weight to be lost. I had entirely too much fun at the end of 2011…

Most of my runs have been spent observing things…like counting camels (I saw 15 on one run!!), watching helicopters take off and land, avoiding being run over by really bad drivers on base, checking out the bomb sniffing dogs and being sad I can’t play with them, and just today- watching a Jordanian in boots and utilities attempt to learn how to ride a bicycle. That was pretty hilarious.

The cool think about where I’m located is that the base is huge. Like, really big. 20 milers are not an issue. There are porta-poties everywhere, which makes it convenient when you’re out in the middle of nowhere and need to go (although this happened the other day—and I found one that was for male anatomy only. Very disappointing.). The sucky thing is that the ground is pretty rough. It’s full of rocks to help keep the dust down and prevent flooding, but it’s a b!tch to run on. Again I find myself battling a rock rage.

My ankles are perpetually bruised from kicking myself with these little obnoxious rocks. I roll my ankles at least once per run, though have somehow managed to not fall in a ditch anywhere. It’s actually really dangerous walking around in the dark, there are these massive trenches everywhere that you can’t see until you’re right next to it.

Triple Salomon

Another annoying problem is the foreigners who are working on base. They stare, glare, stalk…it’s pretty bad. It’s like they’ve never seen a white chick running before. Ok, so they probably haven’t. But still.

But now…I need to get back in shape. I’m planning to go on vacation in April, so naturally I scoured the internet to find a race. I wanted a trail race, but no more than 50k, and nothing with crazy climbing. My legs won’t be ready for any of that . Low and behold, there’s a 50k in Sweden on the date that I was looking at, and it sounds perfect. Well, it would if I spoke Swedish. But it sure looks nice.

I checked in to the logistics, and I can easily swing through Stockholm on my way back to Afghanistan…soo….yes. This is the one. If only I could figure out how to register. Anyone speak Swedish??

There’s a 10k on base in 12 days, I’m going to run it to guage my fitness. I’m sure I’ll be tripping over rocks and getting blown over by wind, but it will be some sort of starting point. I now have 12 weeks to get ready for a 50k. Plenty of time...?

I’m ecstatic to have a goal again, and that it’s for another awesome trail race in a really amazing place. I know literally nothing about Sweden, so yet another Agile adventure begins.

I've decided the best way to deal with being away from loved ones in a not awesome place is to focus on self improvement. With that in mind, I bought a guitar, am trying to run my butt off, and will learn how to drive stick. No really, we have a car...but it's manual. Don't laugh, but I've never had to drive one before.

And so begins Chapter 3.

A Trail Runner's High: Leadville Marathon non-Race Report

2011-07-10T11:11:00.000-04:00

6 weeks since the Jemez 50 Miler in New Mexico, and things weren't looking too bright for my immediate running future. Remember that heel pain I was complaining about during my last race report? You know, the pain from the overly-aggressive trashcan that ran over my foot? Well, it was a lot worse than I had anticipated.

Immediately after Jemez I sat my happy but on the couch for a bit, giving myself some much deserved down time. After a week I tried squeezing in a 5 mile run, but limped home in pain. I repeated this process for a couple of weeks, and finally realized I was screwed and absolutely could not run. It wasn't the running that was the problem, it was wearing shoes that did me in. Anything that rubbed against the back of my heel caused an intense pain that wouldn't abate. I saw an Ortho who gave me a silicon pad thingy to place over the sore spot. When that didn't work, he referred me to an awesome Chiropractor who performed ART and electrotherapy. 4 session and $$$ later, I was feeling much better.

To stay somewhat active Bryan convinced me to go to Muay Thai practice, which I admit is rather fun (for those who don't know, Muay Thai is in essence, Thai kickboxing...only legit- not like the crap classes they offer at LA Boxing). I had no idea I would enjoy kicking things so much (often times the recipient is Bryan). It's a great workout that is non-stop cardio with a lot of intensity. While I have no plans of ever being a Muay Thai fighter, I definitely am enjoying myself on the mat. Annnyways, back to running.

I was able to run 5 miles 5 days in a row after a week of ART sessions, though the heel was still not quite better. It turns out I ruptured my bursa (a fluid-filled sac that protects the Achilles tendon), and consequently there was nothing protecting the tendon from the pressure of my shoe. To be clear, I did not injure my AT...but it probably could've reached that point had I left it untreated much longer).

The Fam

The family headed out to Colorado a week before the race to start our awesome vacation. We hiked, biked, drank, spent way too much time in the hot tub...it was fabulous. I had a scare with my heel after a slow 5 mile trudge at 9,000ft elevation, but after a quick ice massage it seemed to be a little better. At this point I was still debating whether I should run the marathon or not...

Run a marathon off of 63 total miles in the past 6 weeks of "training"? Or more importantly, run a marathon with the potential of re-aggravating my heel?

Leading up to Saturday, the signs of injury continued to diminish. I decided on Thursday that I should definitely run the race, though I certainly wouldn't be racing. I was somewhat frustrated as I had originally hoped to beat my time from last year (5:18), which I felt I was setup to do after the past few months of racing.

Running through a forest of Aspen trees....lovely

On Wed. afternoon Bryan and I drove through Leadville on our way to Aspen. I stopped in the Leadville 100 shop to finally pick up my award from last year (a sweet gold mining pan thingy). We were greeted by a barrage of packet-stuffing fury, so we stuck around to help stuff the race bags until we ran out of supplies. We stopped at the store again on Friday to actually pick up my bib, which was one to many trips to Leadville for Bryan =)

Anywhoo, on to the race...which is the only reason you're reading this anyways.

Saturday, July 2nd:

My usual partner in crime, Matt, flew out from VA to join me on another epic mountain adventure. This would be his first race at altitude, and his first ever trip to Colorado. I absolutely love sharing the mountains with people (but not too many, can't be crowding my mountain) so I was excited to have him along.

We stayed up late the night before eating and drinking wine, watching a little Archer, and talking about everything but the race. Finally around 11pm I decided to get my crap together and get ready for bed. For those who are new to marathons (or have yet to run a marathon), you can definitely get to the point where you don't flip out before every race. Only some races ;)

Saturday morning we hit the road for the scenic 40 minute drive to Leadville. We were staying in Frisco, which is my home away from home away from home (not sure how many homes removed it is). The logistics for this race are heavenly. We pulled in to a parking lot directly in front of the start/finish area and headed in to the high school gym to do the leap frog bathroom line (go to the bathroom, get in the back of the line again, repeat until the start of the race). I was tickled to meet a woman (Donna) who recognized me from last year's Leadville race report on my blog. She was nervous about her first Leadville--hope you had a great time, D!

At the starting line...

I performed the usual bodyglide/sunscreen ritual and placed a completely inadequate bandage over the sad spot on my heel for a token placebo effect. After stuffing my new favorite thing ever (Nathan Intensity Pack) with all of my other new favorite things (Cliff Shots- Vanilla flavored, Honey Stinger waffles, Honey Stinger strawberry chews, and of course...Fig Newtons), I felt confident that I would not be lacking in the nutrition department.

So, instead of writing a typical super long-worded race report, I'm going to fill the page with photos taken throughout the race. Since I wasn't really racing, it's better this way...ehh?

Starting elevation: 10,190ft...hooray

Just before the crack of the gun...a real gun, FYI...

The race starts off with about a mile uphill on a paved road, and the climb continues from there through mile 5. By far the quietest part of the race, with everyone figuring out their groove (and whether they feel like socializing with the other runners). Matt and I took it pretty easy, trying to adjust to the altitude without completely destroying our chances of finishing in remotely good shape.

The view up ahead...

The view behind...

Mining things

Up, up, up and away!

Matt, not quite tired...yet

Hooray...

More mining things

Aid station #1

Mmmm....melons. Big & juicy.

Matt doesn't quite hate me at this point.

Before long, we made it to my absolute favorite part of the race (the base of Ball Mountain--which peaks at 12,000 ft). I mean, c'mon...look at these views! I still feel it's lacking a moose or something.

Long trail of runners

Deceptively slippery snow

Can't pass up the chance for a snow angel in July!

One slight step to the right...wooosh! Gone.

Happy me, running downhill. Sort of.

Continuing the downhill party...though it's about to change.

Yay mining thingies

After coming out of the aid station at the base of Mosquito pass, things sobered up drastically. The experienced Leadville runners knew the pains of climbing Mosquito pass, while the newbies set off with a sense of dread (or complete ignorance).

Things are getting wet & wild from the snow melt

Matt...still not quite hating me

Because everyone has time for a photo montage on a mountain

A 3 mile climb that takes well over an hour, but the views are spectacular

Mile 1: (or, mile 10 rather) 453ft climb, 17:54 split

Yup, there it is...Matt hates me finally.

Mile 2: 771ft climb, 23:38

Little Aid Station 2/3 the way up

C'mon!! Isn't this worth the pain?

It's starting to get a little tricky to maneuver with all of the folks coming downhill...They definitely deserve the right of way, but the rocks are so tough to navigate around it's hard to predict where they'll place their footing.

By now the legs are burning, breathing is nearly non-existent, and it seems like I'll never reach the top. Somehow it never really discouraged me, perhaps the past year of some seriously tough trail runs has roughed me up enough. I felt stronger on the climb than I did last year, though after looking back at my splits for 2010 it seems I had identical pacing up Mosquito Pass. Interesting. Last year I was completely miserable though, and this year I felt pretty decent. I was a little sad at how many girls were ahead of me (at least 15 at this point), and most of them didn't look like they belonged in front of me...but I reminded myself I was not racing and to just let them go. I shouted encouragement at all of the girls, some responding while others focused intently on their footing. I realized they were so far ahead of me at this point I couldn't catch them if I tried.

One of the last switchbacks up to the top.

Oh what sweet, sweet silhouettes to behold!

Mile 3: 704 ft climb, 22:38 (including messing around at the top to take pictures)

Matt reaching the top just behind me.

I don't know what we were doing, but it felt like we needed a picture of something after that climb!

13,219 ft...though the sign said 13,185. I think my Garmin was getting a little high...

Last shot before heading back down...

This year perhaps the best part of the race was heading down Mosquito Pass. Mentally I was very prepared for the tough, technical, steep terrain. It wasn't the steepest climb I've ever done, however the added complication of super high altitude made it much more difficult. I thought about the epic 42:00 mile in Jemez climbing up a steep slope, and new that I was mentally in much better shape here than I was in that race.

I lost track of how many people I passed coming down, but I caught up to at least 5 girls who were wayyyy ahead of me. I completely, utterly, unashamedly tore it up. At one point I came up behind a guy who was doing a good job of picking over the rocks without having to slow down. He laughed and cheered me on, saying I'm the first person to ever pass him coming down the mountain. He stayed right behind me for a bit, but eventually fell back about half way down. The people heading up Mosquito Pass were hooting and hollering for me, I guess it was fairly obvious that I was determined to push it all the way to the bottom.

My splits from last year heading down the mountain:

8:46, 8:28, 10:11(may have included a stop at the aid station)

Splits from this year:

8:07, 7:25, 7:16--Booya!

The last part of the descent before heading in to the aid station flattens out quite a bit, and it is here that I really start to feel the altitude. I was quickly running out of breath, and slowed down a bit to just coast it in to the aid station. I fifilled up my Nathan pack for the first and only time in the race, and for those who are skeptical about the complications of a pack at an aid station...it took about 30 seconds to get it filled and re-sealed. Ain't no thang!

Matt heading in to the aid station at the base of Mosquito

The next few miles were pretty darn rough. My legs were trashed from the long climb and super aggressive descent. Since this is an out and back course, we knew exactly what we had to deal with for the next 10 miles. Pretty much all walking and a little bit of shuffling :)

Messing around...

Amy in a box!

Taking a minute to enjoy the views

We came back around to Ball Mountain, though this time we looped around in the opposite direction.

Heading back through the snow...slippery coming downhill!

I was feeling pretty terribly by mile 20. Worst of all, my heel wigged out pretty bad by mile 21. It was New Mexico all over again :( The climing sucked for my muscles, but the pressure on my heel in the back of the shoe was lass than stellar. I kept waiting for the ball to drop and for me to have to really start limping, but it seemed as long as I pushed off more with my left leg and didn't fully extend my right, I could get by. The downhill stuff didn't hurt at all, so I would try catching up to Matt on the downs and let him slide ahead on the ups. Grrrr! Stupid foot.

I started feeling a little better (muscularly) by mile 23 or so. The foot thing was still a nuisance, but at least I felt like I was capable of running again.

The last part of the race heads back to town, and as we made our way downhill I saw 3 people just up ahead (maybe .25 mile lead). I realized 2 of them were women, and let the competitive juices kick in. I wasn't tired enough to just let them be, so I informed Matt I had to chase them down (this, after telling him about 5 minutes ago I would kick his butt if he tried to drop 6:30s on the way to the finish).

Matt probably wanted to kill me at this point, but I was determined for us to finish together. We picked up the pace steadily until we started reeling them in. We had a 7:10 mile, followed by a 6:37 pace last half mile...oops. Funny thing was that I felt good. As we approached the finish line I realized I could absolutely keep going, which probably means I was running the race more like a 50 miler than a trail marathon. We crossed the finish line in 6:02, with the commentator saying something about us holding hands. Pretty much everyone thought we were a couple, and seemed to be disappointed that we didn't have a romantic finish. Silly people.

As soon as we crossed the finish line, B was there along with my brother and a friend, which is always the best part of any race. Having loved ones to share these experiences with is priceless, since they know the struggles you've been through and have pride in your accomplishments--even if it was 44 minutes slower than last year's race.

Post-Race/Post-Colorado

I'm sad to be back in Virginia, though happy to report that my heel seems to be completely recovered. I'm running pain free, and still savoring what a great vacation we had.

The Rapture Run

2011-05-25T09:03:00.000-04:00

Not even Jesus wanted to show up at the Jemez Mountain 50 Miler on May 21st, as we ended up having to run the whole thing due to a glitch with the impending rapture theory.

Nick, Shaheen, Steve, Me & Jayna

There were 5 of us who made the trek out to New Mexico to face the most brutal trails any of us could ever dream of running. At least Steve and I had completed one 50 miler last year, while Nick, Jayna, and Shaheen would be popping their 50 miler cherry at Jemez. Rated one of the most difficult 50 milers out there due to the altitude, elevation gain, and some tough technical spots, it was pretty ballsy to bring sea level (flatland) runners out to Los Alamos. We rented a pretty fun loft in Santa Fe, stocking the fridge with a ridiculous amount of groceries, bumping elbows in the kitchen and scheduling shower times.

I couldn't sleep the night before the race, in spite of my best attempts at drugging myself (2 glasses of wine and some melatonin). It didn't help any that I started reading the second book of The Hunger Games series previously that day, and ended up finishing the whole thing around 11pm. 2:30am came very early, but the adrenaline of race morning prevented me from feeling too awful.

All this for one runner...

Our purple people eaters barely made it out of the house at 3:45, with a mad rush to Los Alamos (a good 45 minutes away). We cut it pretty close getting to the start, barely having time to stage our drop bags and hit the port-a-potties. Before I knew it, headlamps were illuminated and suddenly we were running.

Quick shot before the start (me & Steve)

We stayed in the back of the pack, just plodding along at a comfortable 5am pace. Unfortunately that was one of the biggest mistakes of the day, as the wide dirt road soon dumped on to a very narrow single track. All of a sudden we came to a dead halt, as a long line of people made their way in to the narrow opening at a walking pace. I started getting really antsy and REALLY pissed. It was flat, smooth, and way to freaking early in a race to be walking. Finally Steve managed to weave his way around people, and I followed hot on his heels. It took a couple of miles to get clear of everyone, but finally I could breathe again as we came through a quiet, peaceful canyon and were allowed to move at our own pace.

We hit the first aid station just short of mile 5 and were able to drop our headlamps. Up to this point we had mostly been running, but we soon encountered the first climb of the day at the Mitchell trail head. We walked most of the 2.2 miles up to the ridge, not realizing it would be the easiest climb of the day (1540 ft gain). Everyone was in great spirits as it was still early in the day. In fact, it was completely quiet with the exception of a loud shout from Shaheen down below when she spotted our purple up ahead.

We made it up without feeling too much effect from the altitude, and realized we needed to force ourselves to eat something. I'll recap the nutrition thing here and now, as I can't recall the exact number of fig newtons and Gu's that I ate, since I'm sure everyone is dying to know this critical piece of information (sarcasm). I wore a Nathan vest with just a pocket on the back (as opposed to a hydration bladder) and my trusty handheld. I stuffed my pockets with every conceivable form of gu/electrolyte/food/gum that I could possibly want. I knew I'd be running for at least 12 hours today, so it quickly became apparent that I'd need to eat constantly without really sticking to a timed eating plan (such as every 45 minutes in a marathon). I did very well with my nutrition as far as I can tell, as I never felt weak from lack of food and never had tummy issues from too much food. I drank Gu Brew which did not taste like lemon-line hell, and randomly popped salt tablets whenever I felt like it. Ok, back to the running stuff...

We had a nice 3 mile section with only 835ft gain and 1050ft loss, i.e. more downhill than up. We slipped down some super tight switchbacks...not terribly steep but VERY short. So short I couldn't really run them because you'd go completely off the cliff if you missed a single step. I swear the trail was only 10" wide in places. Steve and I made it down in one piece, and had a pretty calm couple of miles through the quiet woods.

You never know what you're going to encounter in a trail race...

Finally we reach Caballo base. The dreaded 2 mile, 1770ft climb. Now, this is where I completely suck as a runner. I'm no good on climbs. Steve and I slowly make our way up, joking pretty much the entire way but acutely aware that we aren't exactly rock stars on this section. We're barely .25 in to the climb when the leader (Nick Clark) comes barreling towards us, having already summited and run all the way back down. Yoowwwweeee! It's a while before we see 2nd, 3rd, and 4th place runners coming down. Slowly one by one people trickle down the mountain and we make sure to step off the trail so they can safely pass. I hope this bodes well with our downhill karma, and other runners will do the same for us when we're finally on the descent.

A mile or so in to the climb a woman with braided pigtails passes us by pretty easily, Steve asks if she would please retrace her steps and give him a "good game" before passing. I think she was a little taken aback at first, but then said we could get her instead on the way down. Oh Steve, always a tease.

We seem to have landed the role of leading a handful of runners who are pretty content to take it easy up to the top, and enjoy casual conversation with our comrades ~~in arms~~ in shoes. In idle chat they ask where we're from, assuming we're West runners. They're pretty shocked to learn I'm from VA and Steve is from TX, and say they're very impressed that we'd dare tackle such a hard race without actually living in the mountains. I encounter this phenomenon all day long, as literally every person I met was either from Colorado or New Mexico.

My steps slow as we near the top, it seems my legs are rather done with this whole climbing bit. Our companions ditch us for a faster gait, but are encouraging us by saying we're oh so close to the top. Finally, it happens. We come out of the trees and are dumped in to a wide open space at the top of Caballo. There are a handful of volunteers up there hooting and hollering as the runners stumble in to the grassy field. I look around to appreciate the view, and sure enough...it's worth the climb. They laugh as we stop to take pictures before heading back down.

10,400ft elevation

And now, the fun begins. It doesn't take long for us to catch every single person who passed us on the climb (and then some) on the way back down. I don't know if it's my quarter horse quads or my blatant disregard for my well-being, but I'm completely at ease tackling the descent at a full run. There aren't many hesitant steps as I easily spot my footing and hop over rocks. Maybe a few sketchy turns with the the classic one-armed tree swing (saving me from plummeting over the side), but mostly I'm just smiling like a goof and laughing when I can't stifle it anymore. I can't help it, it's my new set of monkey bars. Everyone clears out of our way, both runners coming uphill and those we're passing going downhill. Occasionally I hear Steve crash off course missing a turn, but he made it down unscathed and hopefully not too annoyed that I was a little reckless. He sounded like he was having as much fun as me though :)

We pass by Nick, Shaheen, and Jayna who are well embedded with a group of runners, and they're grinning from ear to ear in spite of the climb to the top. We exchange words of encouragement, and that's the last I see of them for many hours.

Finally I see Braids with another woman up ahead, and they seem like they're going to try to hold their own against us at first but soon let us get around them. I assure Braids she can smack Steve's ass when she passes us on the next climb. Unfortunately this move put me in 3rd place. I try not to think about that yet, and am soon rewarded by my distraction with a sharp ankle roll. I somehow rolled my left ankle and kicked a rock against my right ankle, and for a solid 2 minutes I was in a lot of pain. When running downhill there really isn't anything you can do but get to the bottom, so I concentrated on the task at hand and hoped the ankles would chill out and go back to normal. Thankfully after about 10 minutes all of the throbbing was gone, but I was very aware of the pain returning in my heel (for those who missed my Napa race report, I was assaulted by my garbage can in March and have been dealing with random swelling and pain ever since). More on that later.

By now we're to the bottom and it's a 2.8 mile treck (1170 ft gain) to the Pipeline aid station. There's a bit of climbing, and it doesn't take long for Braids and the other chick to catch us. I lolligag bringing up the rear while eating random things out of my pockets.

Steve & the ladies

There's a bit of flat and downhill running coming in to Pipeline, just enough for us to actually look like we're in a race instead of out for a hike. I get a little winded here, perhaps finally noticing that I'm at least 9,000ft above sea level. I am desperately looking around for a place to pee, as the trees are barren and more slight than my generous booty. Steve spots a boulder for me to hide behind, and I am attacked by a giant thorn bush on my way out. First blood of the day.

As we pull in to the aid station I'm delighted to find the volunteers are a heck of a lot more experienced than I am, as they have my gear bag out and ready to go before I can even sit in a chair to get my shoes off. I decided the shoes I was wearing were rubbing too much on my heel, and I couldn't fathom running the whole race in that amount of discomfort. I swap my shoes for the Salomon Wings, and opt to drop my handheld in favor of my Nathan pack with a 70 oz bladder. I'm so glad I did this, as I value having my hands free to eat, take pictures, and flail my arms around at will throughout the rest of the race.

Pipeline Aid Station (with my bag)

Steve and I head out of Pipeline and I'm immediately smacked back in to reality when we encounter a nice little section known as Nate's Nemesis. It's this awful little (ha, little) section that goes straight down in to the abyss of nothingness. Actually, it empties in to a meadow but it is so steep and treacherous I can't fathom why this is on a race course. I did not master this section in the least, as I opted to essential crab-walk my way down the steep, rocky, dirt hill. My garmin registered this section at a -50% grade for those who can imagine what a 50% incline/decline would be like.

I don't quite make it out of here unscathed, though the blood is more profuse than the wound would indicate.

Coming down off of that brutal little kick in the pants was a welcome relief. We're rewarded with some of the most runnable terrain of the day, a smooth jeep road with nothing but wide open meadows. We chat idly and make friends with other runners, this time some guys from Wyoming.

There's a tent far off in the distance, soon to be our next stop of the day. The aid station at mile 21 was small but every bit as energetic is their predecessors. Someone helps me clean up my hand while I use my free hand to roam the table for junk food and treats. Feeding time, yet again. Braids was just getting ready to leave as we came in, and she showed off a similar wound on her hand. Silly gals, that's what we get for running on our hands...?

The next mile is one of the most thought provoking of the day for me. I'm tired, but content to just soak in the scenery. I can't help but thinking about a time when a girl perhaps my age crossed the very land I'm running on in a covered wagon. It probably didn't look much different then than it did now, and it dawns on me that this is why I fell in love with trail running. Little pieces of nature devoid of engines, houses, crowds, obnoxious cow bells...There are even large berries as evidence of an elk population hiding somewhere off in the trees. I begin to realize a transformation is taking place, and I'm not so sure I'll ever be fully satisfied with marathons ever again. It is here that I most feel the awesomeness of creation, and marvel at the architect of such a beautiful place.

A group of us make our way across the meadows, and these are the runners I will see throughout the rest of the race. We take turns passing one another over the next 30 miles, them on the climbs...me on the descent. I've been dubbed "Virginia", and respond to this name as they cheer me on throughout the rest of the day. One of the guys is from Durango (Mexico, not CO), and he completely blows me away by his casual non-running attire. He's wearing something akin to basketball shorts and gym shoes, and even has the race t-shirt on as if he didn't bother packing anything else to wear. Yet somehow he's passing me on all of the climbs, leaving me in the dust with my trail shoes, singlet and arm warmers. Power to you, hombre!

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and we're soon faced with a garish looking field of rocks that is seemingly endless.

Steve high-stepping it over the rocks

I know, I know...this looks intense. It really isn't that challenging, you just have to get your feet up and walk/clamber over it. In fact, it's about the least challenging obstacle of the day. I was having a little too much fun, though, and someone coming up behind us had to shout to pull me off to a trail in the woods. In hindsight I wish I had climbed up the whole mountain on those rocks, because my performance heading up to the peak of Pajarito Canyon was beyond awful. Steve seemed to be struggling as much as me to get his legs to cooperate as we made the steep climb up. Just how bad was it? Well, we clocked a 42:00 mile. I'm not kidding. At all. 42 minutes to walk UP 1 MILE. My legs were burning, I tried pushing off my knees with my hands, then imagining that I was pulling a rope ahead of me (which really just made me more pissed that I didn't actually have a rope). The funny thing I experienced here is that mentally I was ok. In fact, every thing was ok with the exception of the burning in my legs. I realized I could tough it out, however long it took. Steve was quiet and sullen behind me, suffering from some altitude issues of his own.

Steve's triumphant water bottle wave. He probably wanted to throw that at me about now...

We seemed to make it to the top, and as usual there was beauty in our pain.

Unfortunately for us there was a little more uphill to be had, and we forced ourselves to continue on. Instead of winding through a wooded path, we were out in the open on deceptively steep terrain. It didn't help any that we were peaking over 10,000 ft again.

More than your average grassy field...

I was lost in my state of numbness when we finally went as high as we could go, and quickly had to transition to our downhill legs. It was a strange sensation, trying to control my muscles after such a long haul of climbing. My legs felt bruised, which was a new sensation to have while running. I touched my glutes lightly where they were most tight, and was rewarded with a sharp bite of pain. Clearly we were going to have some issues after the race...my glutes and I.

Steve seemed to be reeling from the altitude and told me to go at my own pace. I could still hear him behind me, but his downhill legs were taking longer to kick in. Little did I realize his IT Band had flared up so bad his race was essentially over at this point. It wasn't until I commented about the latest encounter with rocks and heard a female voice in response instead of Steve that I realized it was not his footsteps behind me this entire time. I felt bad for abandoning him, I have a feeling he would've stuck around if it were me.

These rocks were much smaller and very loose compared to the boulder field. My feet were sliding over the rocks as they shifted positions, and somehow I found myself constantly aiming at the rock piles in the middle of the field. It's like I have this major rock magnet that draws me towards the most obnoxious rocks possible. I would later learn that this is the spot where a rock fell on top of poor Jayna's foot, crushing it and leaving her too injured to finish the race (though she toughed it out for another 12ish miles to get to the aid station).

The next couple of miles were heavenly. I averaged an 8:30 pace for a while on gentle, rolling dirt paths in the crevice of a canyon laced with aspen trees. I was completely cured of my uphill pouty face, and found myself smiling again at the sound of birds and a stream.

I caught the usual crowd before coming in to the aid station at mile 29, and we all exchanged encouragement and words of "what the heck did we just run up?". As I crested the hill that brought the aid station in to view, a spotter yelled out my number so the volunteers would have my drop bag ready for me. I spilled in to a chair and ripped my shoes off so I could put some fresh socks on.

I was laughing at how dirty my feet were, and the helpful volunteers commented on how chipper I was for nearly 30 miles in to a race. I commented they'd be laughing too if they got to sit down after that awful climb we just did. Touche. I was rewarded for my comedic efforts with homemade oatmeal butterscotch cookies which may have been as good as my mom's chocolate chip cookies. Tough call. I was so enamored with them that I ran a few steps, took a bite, and promptly turned around for another cookie before finally making my way out of the aid station, fresh socks and all.

I would later realize I once again forgot to apply sunscreen, and should not have taken my socks off. It seems however I re-laced my shoes applied awful pressure to my heel, as not even a mile out of the aid station I nearly fell to the ground limping in pain. On a likert-scale of discomfort, this was off the charts. It hurt most going uphill (you know, kick a horse when it's down), and I couldn't fathom how I was going to continue to run on it. The next few miles were utterly painful, and it was 4 miles to the next aid station. The climbs in this leg weren't significant, but for whatever reason I just couldn't get it together. My heel was so distracting I couldn't convince myself to run, I just mostly slogged through at an awful pace, furious at the stupid trash can at home. At least the scenery was nice weaving through trees and over a few streams. I also got a little confused by the course markings (or lack thereof) starting at this point in the race. It would continue to be a problem throughout the remaining 20 miles, leaving me continually doubting whether I was going the right way or not. They only marked the trail in really long increments, so you could easily run a half mile (or more) without seeing any markers. They claimed that "the trail is obvious, just follow the trail", but there were plenty of opportunities to veer off on what looked like it could be the trail. Well, for someone who is 30 miles in to a race just about anything starts to look like a trail.

A woman passed me at one point on a very slight climb, but I was in such agony I didn't care to keep up. Why is it that when I get chicked it really pisses me off? I hold it against guys for feeling this way, I'm such a hypocrite. She tells me to take a Gu, and is generally really nice and encouraging. I don't bother telling her the Gu won't help my heel, but I say great job and keep my head down. I finally make it in to the Townsite Lift aid station at the bottom of a ski slope. There are all these weird signs that make absolutely no sense, but it's their attempt at being coy or humorous or...something. A woman gets all excited seeing me come up the trail and starts ringing a cow bell. Crap. Even out here I can't escape that thing. I don't have the heart to tell her that it's giving me a headache, and it's probably her signal to the aid station that a runner is coming.

I particularly enjoyed the organization of food at this spot, though I didn't bother eating any. I also forgot sunscreen and advil for my heel...I'm starting to think I'll have to run with a sign around my neck so I can check off items at aid stations.

As I head out of the aid station I'm filled with dread thinking about the next 3.5 miles. It's a climb straight up the ski slopes, and my heel is freaking out causing me to question whether I'll ever be able to run in the remaining miles of the race. Since the last aid station, I essentially walked the entire time. I somehow come to the realization I should loosen my laces, and that helps a little. Halfway up the slopes I hear a familiar voice and am overcome with relief when I see Shaheen and Edgar making their way up behind me. I'm a little saddened to see that Shaheen is nursing a strain of some sort on her calf, and Edgar looks like he's seen better days. We give each other knowing smiles without having to say much. At this point, we're all in the worst place we could possibly be mentally in this race. I ask "Steve, Nick, Jayna?"....Apparently Steve isn't too far behind, but the fate of the rest of our crew is unknown. I was actually thankful the mental crap didn't hit until now, as I expected to hit my low long before. As always, I take some pictures to try and distract myself from my pathetic issues.

I was feeling a little upset when I was passed by a man and a woman (and no offense, but she was much older and didn't look like she should be passing me). I was standing in the trail trying to figure out which way to go, because the trail looked like it went to the right but I couldn't see any markers. The man plowed straight up and found one, shouting down for us to come on up. I mumbled my frustrations with the lack of markings, everyone agreed with my sentiment. We make our way all the way up this time and I find myself wondering what it would be like to ski the slopes we're on.

Don't let that smile fool you. I was pissed.

It seems at long last we're finally given a shot at some downhill running. I'm nervous about my heel, but find the pressure of my toes in the front of the shoe takes away from the pain on the back of my foot. It seems so long as I'm running downhill I'm going to survive. It takes a few minutes for my legs to start working again, but soon I pick off the man and woman who had recently passed me (and who also took a wrong turn...again), and make my way through the woods and across/down the mountain. I feel a blister forming on each foot and decide the blisters are better than the alternative heel problem.

Soon I'm slipping and sliding down a steep path that dumps straight on to the ski slope. There are no switchbacks here to slow you down, it's straight, steep, downhill running at its finest. I think I needed this mental boost to encourage me through the rest of the race. I spot a guy who is already halfway down the slope and make it my goal to catch him, meaning I'd have to run twice as fast to get him before he reaches the bottom. Poor guy never even stood a chance. He had no idea this train of purple was barreling down the slopes. People attempted to politely get out of my way, but I begged them to stay on the trail as it was easy enough to go around. At one point I trip on a rock as it's rather hard to avoid rocks that are moving down hill...and trip on it again as it chased my ankles down the slope. One rock, 2 trips. I find this absurd, and further proof that I will never get along with rocks.

I come in to the aid station at mile 36 and down random foods of interest. I see a bowl of sketchy looking white stuff and discover it's tofu. I revert to potato chips. I leave the aid station forgetting something...ah yes, sunscreen and advil, again. I seem to suck at this game. Shaheen and Edgar are far enough behind now that I never see them come in to the aid station, I will them to make it down in one piece.

The next 3 miles are a combination of very gentle climbs and short downhill bursts. Had it been the beginning of the race, I probably would have run most of it. Instead I compromise with a battle of walk/run/slog.

I had been trading spots back and forth with a guy who was somewhat my senior, and he never piped a word of recognition. At first I was annoyed by his obvious contempt for my company, but then I realized perhaps he's having a crappy day and needs to be lifted out of his mire. I start off with the basics..."So, come here often?". Turns out he's run this 4 times total, and is quite the veteran of ultra marathons. We have a very pleasant conversation over the next 5 miles, encouraging each other without random spurts of running. We come in to Pipeline again where our initial drop bag was staged, but I wave them off as they go to retrieve it.

11 miles to go, this is it. I finally remember to ask for something for my heel and get some Aspirin. I slosh down some very juicy watermelon and head off, not quite knowing if there's something else I forgot. Wanna guess? Yup, sunscreen. Forgot it again. Drats!

My new friend and I head out for a short stretch of jeep road climbs. The grade isn't bad, it's just a matter of getting over it at this point.

My recognition for mileage is a little sketchy here. At some point we started making our way over a ridge, which consisted of dipping into a saddle and coming back up. My new friend released me with his blessing, saying his old legs couldn't keep up with my youthful downhill running. I wished him luck and took of (ha, "took off", more like ran a 10:00 pace), through the trees and down the mountain. Here is where I really started making bank. I passed runner after runner, not quite sure what was going on with my legs at this point. I picked off 2 women ahead of me (one who tried to keep pace with me for a minute), and just waited for my next victim to come to me. Actually, that isn't what I was thinking at all. I was hoping to come across another runner who would keep pace with me, as the last few miles were a surreal stretch of exposed desert running on the face of the mountain. The ground was an odd combination of dirt, grit, and very large sheet-rock type surfaces. I tripped on a rock disguised as sand and landed on my right side in some brush, but it was a gently landing. I picked myself up, annoyed that I wait until mile 44 to fall, and keep going. I finally feel my shorts sticking to me and when I look down I realize the back of my shorts are caked in blood. I check my right cheek, and sure enough my butt is trashed from the brush. It was so dry out the brush tore my skin like tissue paper. Oh well, just another bit of blood to add to the toll.

The exposure to the sun and wind is really starting to make its presence known as my shoulders start to feel burnt, which means they probably have been that way for a while. I can't see any markers, it's impossible to tell if I'm going the right way. There are a couple of spots that have logical alternative trails, but somehow I stay on the right path.

I don't do much with my camera here, as I can tell I'm getting tired and the fall shook my confidence in my awareness. Up ahead I spot a guy and work my way to catch up to him. I realize I've passed at least a dozen runners in the past couple of miles, and wonder if I can fend off anyone from passing me. Not that it matters, sometimes maybe you just need a short-term goal to distract you from the overwhelming thought of being in the final miles of a 50 mile race. We end up trading places back and forth, though he encourages me to please take the lead as he feels like he's holding me up. If only! We come in to the final aid station and it really starts to hit me that I'm 2 miles away from being done with the most physically challenging day of my life. The last aid station boasts a supply of beer and pumpkin pie, but I barely acknowledge them as I'm dead set on being done with this race.

I'm shocked to come across Braids leaving this aid station, and we both ask each other how we're fairing. She tries to get me to keep up with her on the last long climb, but it's completely futile. She comments that it's a bummer for me the last portion isn't downhill, and oh how true those words are.

I'm completely on autopilot now, pushing myself to finish the race. Everything is finally starting to hurt, though it isn't anything like what I felt at the finish of JFK. I think the fueling and nutrition really carried me in this race, and I know so long as I can help it I'll never make that mistake ever again. I make my way over the terrain I ran through in the dark roughly 12 hours ago, and visualize running through the finish line, with my name being announced and everyone cheering. Hey, whatever keeps you going... I know the finish line should be coming up at any minute, but I can't hear or see any sign of it. It seems like forever before I see the last push to the top...

Last climb out of there!

And suddenly I'm at the finish. I can't quite tell what's the finish line and when I'm supposed to stop running, and I have to actually ask for clarification. Someone points me around the corner and it's only then that I can see the clock. There are people scattered around, some clap some don't. A gal I know (Michele) from Daily Mile shouts my name and cheers for me as she sees me come up. It's somewhat anticlimactic as far as finish lines go, what was I expecting though? Someone to announce my name as I ran through? Ha...

Finish: 12:21

Pace: 14:48

Place: 5th female, 41/162 overall. 118 finishers total.

Elevation gain: 12,000+

And here it is, the moment I've been waiting for. I stop running. I expect tears of joy, but they don't come. I'm filled with relief and pride for having finished that race. I immediately think of my companions and wonder how they are doing...if they're far behind, or perhaps only a few minutes behind me. Braids comes over to congratulate me and we have a big sweaty hug moment. Nice gal from Colorado, that Braids. She beat me by about 3 minutes, and I feel good about being that close to her finish time.

I stumble in to the shack where I stowed my bag, and am shocked to see the familiar purple shirts filled by Jayna and Shaheen, sitting with their feet propped up and looking rather forlorn. I'm sad to hear that they both jacked their feet up pretty bad, and had to pull out at 36. They're in good spirits though, recognizing this was a brutal, brutal course. I have mad respect for them selecting this race as their first 50, and really one of their first tough trail races.

My Agiletoes

My proud moniker

I show the girls my booty burn, and set about getting cleaned up. Taking my shoes off has never felt so amazing. I stumble out to the grass to catch Edgar and Steve finishing close together. Once Nick makes it through, our gang is complete and we slowly come to terms with the fact that the day is done. The only ones who can't seem to walk are our injured girls, though the comedy of that which is walking up and down stairs has only just begun.

In the hours and days after the race, I don't seem to have any lingering issues other than a blotchy, painful sunburn and a swollen heel. As I reflect over the past year of running I can't help but think of how far I've come since my first trail race last June. I also can't help but think about what my next adventure might be...all I know is that I want to become an awesome mountain runner.

The Promise Lane

2011-04-27T20:37:00.000-04:00

That was actually a typo, but it made me chuckle so I kept it.

Warning: This post may contain extremely happy and positive content.

To understand a bit about Promise Land, you must first get an idea of the race director (Dr. David Horton) and the notoriously difficult races he puts on throughout the year. His legendary status in the ultra community combined with his Walter Matthau-hold-nothing-back persona draw a large, fun crowd at this annual (debatably) 50k event. As my first Horton race, I came in to this with the fear and trepidation of a 3-legged gazelle hobbling through a lion’s pride. I’d heard Promise Land was a hard race, in part because the distance is actually 34 miles but mainly because of the total amount of elevation gain (8,000ish feet). I really had no idea what would happen to me in such a long race, but I could only hope that I was prepared.

Friday afternoon I met up with 3 other runners (Keith, Ragan, & Sean) for the 3-4 hour drive out to Jefferson National Forest. Keith and Ragan are really well known in the ultra community, with a lot of impressive accomplishments to show for their years of experience. Sean is a baby runner…22 years old with one year of running under his belt (with a 2:52 marathon…lol), and was more excited than Dakota eating a 32 oz jar of peanut butter when mommy leaves one sitting on the counter.

Our plan was to camp out at the race site with all of the other runners coming out for the Horton experience. Somehow we managed to cram most of my camping gear in the car (minus my pillow…sad face), but most importantly I managed to barricade myself in with bags of food. Ultra runners shall not go hungry. We didn’t even make it to the highway before pulling over for a potty break…and come out with a dozen donuts and more bagels. Awesome, my kind of road trip.

It was raining most of the day, though we still enjoyed the views driving through Shenandoah. This was really the most green I’ve seen since last summer, it’s nice to have clawed our way out of the bowels of winter so quickly.

Unfortunately it was still raining lightly when we made it to the site, the unfortunate part being that it was in the low 40s and getting dark. We pulled up just in time for the pre-race briefing, ala Horton. My first impressions of the man were pretty consistent with the stories I’d been told. He stood in the center of a large crowd of people jammed under a pavilion berating new and old runners, throwing things at people, and being generally curmudgeonly in a comedic fashion. At one point he tossed a “gift” to one of his volunteers (who is a student of his at Liberty University) and as she pulled a shirt out of the bag he threw, her boyfriend stepped forward on one knee when she unrolled it to discover “Will You Marry Me?” in large bold letters across the front. The crowd broke in to applause, hooting and hollering as she said yes. Her boyfriend ripped open his jacket to reveal a matching shirt that said “She Said YES!”. Clearly this was going to be one unforgettable race.

Camping...minus the rain. We ran alllll the way up there.

After the pre-race brief (which was short to the tune of: Don’t get lost, if you get lost you’re a complete idiot), a bonfire was started as people stood out in the gently misting (but still quite cold) drizzle. I picked up my bib number which had me seeded as 4^th female (Ragan as 3^rd), and as I was walking away heart a loud “Amy Lane…where are you, Amy Lane?”. As I acknowledged my name and saw Horton head in my direction, I could only hope that he didn’t already have a reason to pick on me. He slapped me on the back and said he expected a fast race out of me, and moved on to his next victim with a big grin on his face.

Our caravan went off to set up our tents and get everything settled before it was completely dark. Ragan was sweet to help me with mine, as I kept falling over and being assaulted by tent poles (hey, it was NOT a one person tent). We finally got situated and grabbed some dinner, which was about 100 boxes of pizza and dozens of desserts. I brought my own chicken and pasta, I wasn’t feeling too confident with eating loads of cheese the night before a race.

Not sure how we all fit in here...

A nice bonfire was was keeping people somewhat warm in spite of the cold drizzle. If only I enjoyed eating soggy marshmallows...

I settled in my cocoon around 9:30 and had a pretty easy time drifting to sleep. I set my alarm for 5:00 as the race started at 5:30, and literally all I had to do was eat a bagel, go to the bathroom, and start running. Car doors started slamming at 4:30am and the campsite was brought to life. I stayed in my warm sleeping bag to eat my bagel, and prayed that the rain would let up. By the time I got out of my tent it was still coming down gently, but the 40 degree temps just made it annoying.

I was really dismayed to have to limp to the bathroom on my Achilles heel. No, really. I had a particularly bad fight with our garbage can (a Monday night ritual consisting of me lugging it down a large drop-off resulting in the can falling on top of me, this time landing on my Achilles tendon), and ever since I haven’t been able to wear shoes without grimacing as the heel of the shoe rubs against a really bad bruise. On a pain-level, it was an 8. I had a brief moment of panic thinking I wouldn’t be able to run, but decided to take some ibuprofen to at least help the swelling go down.

Me, Sean, Keith waiting to get going

Everyone huddled under the pavilion as best we could with the fresh smells of anticipation and deodorant. After a quick prayer and ripe commentary by Dr. Horton, the headlamps were illuminated and off we went. The pain in my heel was remarkably better, especially as running seemed to take some of the pressure of the back of my foot (perhaps my heel striking is improving?)

The first 3 miles took us straight up a long gravel road. And by “up”, I mean UP. It was a strange thing to experience, running straight uphill for the first portion of a race. I was debatably (no, definitely) stupid for running as much as I did. It was hard to tell how steep the road was, because it just kept going and going and going. I had hoped to find Ragan and hang with her for a bit, but I never did see her in the pack. As the lead guys took off I saw 2 girls run by and had no desire to try to keep up with them. After the first mile of running my legs were already starting to burn. I seemed to average about a 10:30 pace for the first 1.5 miles, and soon followed the run/walk pattern the guys around me seemed to be doing. It’s hard walking so early in a race, especially when you can’t see how steep or long the road up ahead is. Looking back on my Garmin data, the grade for the first 3 miles ranged from 10%-40%, meaning I’m an idiot for running so much of it.

At the top of the road we hit the first aid station with the option to drop our headlamps. Since we were now entering the trail head and it was still dark, I didn’t trust myself enough to run on the rocks and roots without the light. I followed behind a single file of guys, all pretty young and athletic looking. As we entered in to a densely vegetated part of the woods I was hit in the face with a large whiff of herbal essence. I thought there must be a chick up ahead, which meant she washed her hair before the race? That can’t be right. Ahhh, it’s just that FREAKING FRESH out here!

My legs were really tired already, so even the slightest of hill was proving to be difficult. I was walking so much I started questioning just how long this race was really going to take. I did some math in my head, and decided if I wanted to run a 6 hour race (and assuming the race was 33 miles, since I didn’t know the exact distance) I hoped to average 5.5mph. Soon after mile 4 there was a large opening and a sweet downhill. All fears of my legs not working went away as I sailed down the single track and hopped over rocks. There’s nothing like a swift singletrack down the side of a mountain to make you feel good about yourself (unless you fall, in which case your confidence will have to come from something else…like successfully eating a handful of M&Ms without dropping one).

It was finally light out and I could really start to appreciate the scenery while running with happy legs downhill. The trail opened up and found myself in a wide, smooth grassy firetrail, weaving my way down the side of whatever mountain we were on. This was FUN. The birds were singing their little beaks off, a stream was rushing loudly after the rainfall, and the trees were billowing in the wind. I looked down at my watch and realized I was running 6:45s, but then decided it didn’t really matter. If my marathon pace was 7:00, and I was running on a good downhill (and still breathing through my nose) there really was no point in fighting it.

It was smooth sailing until mile 8.5 or so when it started going back up again. My legs were griping on the uphills more than I would’ve liked, but I settled in to a comfortable run/walk and decided to just let it be (cue music).

I decided to bring an iPod this time, my first race ever with music. I noticed in my past races I would hit really, really low points and feel pretty devastated for a while. I was hoping music might be able to help me this time, we’ll see. While going through my walking/running spurts I decided to give the music a shot, and within 10 seconds I took the earbuds out and put them away for the rest of the race. Listening to music completely cut me off from the sounds in such a beautiful spot, I didn’t want to miss a thing. The more senses we use the more we can experience something, so it seemed silly to intentionally cut off one of my senses. It was also silly to randomly hear music coming out of my bra whenever I would accidentally trigger the play button.

I came to an aid station and scarfed down my manna (PB&J). Nutrition was one of the main factors in this race for me, as I’ve rather sucked at it in the past. I’d already had some Gu and a mini cliff bar, and planned on eating a little something at every aid station. Remembering my handheld today already put me ahead of the game, though it would’ve been better if I’d remember my Endorolyte tablets (salt pills). Ah, well…where’s the fun in having nothing to complain about?

My heel was throbbing again, so I took more ibuprofin and distracted myself with the amazing scenery. There was so much green everywhere, it was exhilarating. This is by far the prettiest course I’ve run on the right side of the country, and I was devastated to not have my camera with me.

Sidebar: I need to find a pack to wear for the sole use of pockets.

I hit 11 miles in exactly 2 hours, which meant I was just barely on track for the 6 hour finish. Time is pretty irrelevant, but at least it gave me something to think about. Miles 12-14ish were mostly downhill or flat, and I made my way along talking to a couple of guys who had come up behind me. One was a Marine and had been stationed at Pendleton, so we had a bit to talk about.

We came up to another aid station at the top of the mountain and I finally remembered to hand off my headlamp. More food, more water…time to go.

The Marine and I entered a nice patch of somewhat technical trail on a nice descent (at this point I hadn’t realized we’d be running back up the same terrain). We caught a few runners slowing hopping over the rocks, and they were kind enough to move over so we could get a little crazy. Happy happy feet!

I finally had to let Mossi (The Marine) pass me, as I could tell he was itching to take off. I can’t believe how fast his feet were moving over the terrain, it was like watching a football player dance to the end zone. Or whatever it is that football players might do to have such quick feet. That must be a running person…what are they called? Running backs? Or the people who catch the ball? I’m an American Football failure. I pondered over this for a few minutes, trying to name as many football positions as I possibly could (I came up with 4).

Things leveled out a little bit and I enjoyed a briefly flat section of single track through the woods along a stream. A short downhill section dumped me out at the next aid station, where the volunteers were completely energetic and awesome. I was quick to refill my water and take off, as they informed me I was pretty close to the 2^nd place woman.

Around mile 18 the climbing started again, enough to make me run/walk, run/walk. I seemed to be following behind 2 guys at roughly the same pace, and eventually caught up to them for some company. I checked my time at mile 20 and realized I was 10 minutes ahead of the 6 hour plan, which made me feel pretty good about my progress. Of course, this was irrelevant because I had no idea how long and how hard the rest of the race would be. I saw a turtle at one point. Wait, I'm on a mountain...what the heck is a turtle doing up here? A rock, I digress.

We came to another aid station at 20.86 by my garmin and I chuckled at the sign that said “mile 19.26!”. I expected the distances to be off, but that was pretty extreme. One of the guys was excited to pick up an ice cream sandwich, but I stuck with the basics.

Still more climbing for the next 2 miles, this time on the wide grassy fire roads. By now I had been running for at least 4.5 hours, and was amazed that I didn’t feel awful. In fact, I felt absolutely fine. Just another day out running, enjoying nature with some intermittent sugar injections.

Another long downhill brought us to an aid station, where I branched out and grabbed some grilled cheese. It tasted soooo good. I had to pass on the pieces of chocolate candy dipped in peanut butter available for people to grab, I must be a salty runner. I headed out of the aid station and saw Ragan heading in, so I knew she was only minutes away from catching me. I was hoping I could keep up with her when she came by…

Finally it was here, the dreaded Apple Orchard Falls. Actually, it wasn’t really dreaded at all because I wasn’t really sure what anyone was talking about up until this point. It was really just a lot of walking, for a long time. I couldn’t walk any faster than I did, as it was really more of a hike. My hiking legs aren’t very well practiced, so my speed was less than optimal. Walking up along the falls really made me sad that I didn’t have my camera. Next year I’ll just have to come back so I can take photos. Maybe that race report won’t actually have any words... (ha, yeah right).

There was a section of wooden stairs and somehow I managed to trip and land on a stair. Who runs 34 miles through the woods and trips on a completely smooth wood surface? AgileToes, that’s who.

Ragan caught me and we chatted for a minute, but I couldn’t keep up with her swift hike. I wasn’t feeling horribly tired or beat up, I simply couldn’t force my legs uphill any faster than what they were doing. So be it.

I eventually heard cheering up ahead and realized it was an aid station, which meant it was the peak of the mountain. Yippee! I couldn’t wait to run down. As I came through and grabbed some goods a volunteer commented on how “fresh” I looked, perhaps because I was smiling and laughing instead of crying in pain? Speaking of pain, the heel never elevated beyond “annoying”. What a relief.

I caught a guy heading down a much appreciated downhill track. I wouldn’t call this portion terribly technical, but it was technical in the sense that you still had to watch your footing and be careful not to trip. My legs were fine, I was fine…what a groovy day for me .

I came off the mountain to the last aid station (which was the first aid station this morning). I mentally prepared myself to run down the 10%-40% grades for the next 3 miles, and hoped my legs would hold up for such a long descent. I let loose and allowed my legs to dictate the pace, which at first was in the low 6:00 range (some sub 6!). I realize it is completely different running that pace downhill v. a flat surface, but to have that kind of turnover at mile 31 of a race was absolutely fantastic. I saw a red shirt up ahead and wondered how long it would take me to catch him…less than a minute. I was absolutely flying. I looked at my watch, 32 miles. How much farther? Who cares, this is awesome! I’ve never had so much energy and so little pain at the end of a race. The downhill definitely masked the end-of-race fatigue.

As I ran by Red Shirt, he audibly laughed and said “you go girl!”. Dogs barking, birds chirping, the sound of…nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just the crunching gravel under my feet.

I started to wonder where exactly the finish was, as I had thought it was more around 33 vice 34, but oh well... Last 3 miles averaged 6:20 pace. Perfect running bliss.
Finally out of nowhere the turn appeared to bring us back in to camp, and I sailed through the short grassy field to the finish. Keith, Ragan & Sean were all standing there cheering me on as I came to a stop. Dr. Horton congratulated me and boasted on his spectacular seeding predictions (Ragan 3^rd and me 4^th, which turned out to be accurate). I believe the first words out of my mouth were “That was FUN!”.

The rest of the afternoon (well, before the long haul back home) was a great, social BBQ while watching runners come through the finish. Everyone was grinning ear to ear at having overcome 34 miles of Horton Land. Funny thing, these ultras are. I could go on and on about the post-race ambiance, but as I’m over 3,000 words already it’s time to dismiss the class.

What a day! I’ll be back :)

Total Distance: 34 Miles

Time: 6:07, 4th Female
Elevation Gain: Roghly 8,000ft (though my Gamin inaccurately says 11k)
Course Profile (1,130-4,000ft)

Bel Monte 50k

2011-03-27T12:11:00.000-04:00

Yay…oww…yay…oww…YAY!

That’s the gist of how the race went for the most part, though there’s really no good way of making this a short story. I pity those attempting to read this on their phones.

Friday afternoon I drove down to Charlottesville to pick up my packet and spend the night relatively close to the race (45 minutes away, as opposed to 3 hours). I had a wonderful pasta dinner with friends from DC (Becki, Tom, and Becki’s parents) who were running the 50miler. After dinner I had some time to kill before I headed over to my hosts’ house, so I naturally found a cute little wine shop and decided to check it out. I walked in to a full-blown wine tasting event and my eyes grew large as I saw the nearly dozen bottles of wine that were open for tasting. I was offered a glass, and everyone stared at me as I realized I was somewhat out of place in my casual driving attire. I agreed with their assessment for entirely different reasons and escorted myself off the premise with nary a drop of my favorite grape juice.

My usual partner in crime, Matt, was not with me on this trip though he set me up with a friend of his to stay with for the night. Oh how I love the running community and the general willingness to help out the traveling runner. Within 10 minutes of arriving at Deborah’s place, I was sitting on the couch with a glass of Cab in hand and a happy dog on my lap. 5 star rating for this particular accommodation!

I woke up around 3:50 Saturday morning after a paranoid night of sleep. I was so worried about oversleeping that I checked the time almost every 20 minutes expecting it to say 10am. I finally gave up and got dressed quickly, hitting the road for the 45 minute drive to the start.

My first mistake of the day hit me when I realized I forgot my handheld. Son of a b*! I didn’t completely freak, but I was pretty pissed at myself. I really needed the pocket on my handheld to store my s!caps and a Clif bar. I could only fit 4 gu’s in the back of my shorts before they started to pull off, and there’s no way I could fit anything else anywhere else. After a panicked call to Becki, she agreed that I would be fine to pick up a water bottle at the gas station to use for hydration. I somehow ended up at a gas station that didn’t have any sport-top lids on any beverages of any sort, so I settled for a 20oz bottle of G2 in favor of the wide top for easy re-filling.

My second mistake of the day was noted when I parked at the start, stepped outside of my car and realized it was flipping cold. Not like, pre-race chilly-but-it-will-warm-up sort of cold, this was I-didn’t-wear-enough-clothes sort of cold. My car registered 33 degrees, and I was running in shorts, singlet, arm warmers & gloves. Oh dear. All of the trail races I did last year were insanely hot, so running on trails in the cold was new to me.

I set out to find someone with duct tape so I could potentially affix a mini Clif bar to the Gatorade, and didn’t have to go far as the van next to me was willing to help out. I’d never had G2 during a run, but decided to keep it instead of dumping it out in favor of water. I was pretty sure it was too cold for me to want to drink anything, and having the nice lemon lime flavor would help.

The RD’s (Gil & Frencesca) called a pre-race briefing before marching all of the 50k and 50 mile runners up to the top of a levy for the official start. There I found myself looking like a fool being literally the only person in shorts and a singlet and with my pathetic excuse for a handheld someone commented they felt 20 degrees colder just looking at me. A guy next to me actually had to remind me to turn on my headlamp, which added to the guise of my inexperience. In my defense, this was the first time I’d ever worn a headlamp and I have my amazing, wonderful, awesome neighbors to thank for letting me borrow theirs. Eliza should probably add “caretaker of Amy Lane” to her resume.

Oh silly me, wearing a singlet...

I knew a couple of things going in to this race…

1- I was not fully recovered from Napa

2- My crappy 42 mpw average was not going to help me in the least

3- Two seriously good female ultra runners were toeing the line, and they were way faster than me.

The hilarious part is that one of the “elites” is Amy Lane, a woman a few years older than me from MA, and Riva Johnson, a stellar master’s runner from PA. I’ve seen their names multiple times on results listings, always winning or in the top 3 at much bigger races. Riva beat me by well over an hour at JFK, and Amy smokes the heck out of the 50 milers she has done. I had to laugh when I saw 2 Amy Lane’s on the registration list for this race, as we would finally get to meet. I’d been confused with her multiple times and wanted to know who this other Amy was!

Finally…the race.

The RD set us off and we charged in to the woods filing down to single track. I made a point to be near the front of the pack, as the 50 milers would be going presumably slower from the get-go. I fell in behind 2 women, and I heard someone shout out “Is that Amy Lane?” Knowing they didn’t mean me, as I’m an unknown, the woman directly in front of me shouted back a greeting. I chirped “Amy?!”, from the surprise in my voice she said “you must be the other Amy Lane!”. I laughed and we talked for quite a bit, exchanging stories about constantly having our results confused. Apparently she had been receiving emails after JFK congratulating her for my finish. How crazy is it that there are 2 Amy Lane’s running ultra marathons? Huh.

Come to find out the woman directly in front of Amy was actually Riva, and I was excited to run with them for the first couple of miles. My legs felt great and it was easy going. I wasn’t looking at my pace as it took every ounce of concentration to run over the roots and rocks in the dark without stumbling. At some point Amy and Riva switched places and I focused on watching Riva’s footing, and mimicked her running. I would’ve been much more cautious if I was running by myself, but seeing their footwork somehow gave me confidence.

2 miles went by quickly, but we soon faced some short, steep climbs. Amy pulled ahead (running up the climbs) and Riva kept a slower but steady run. I realized if I walked I wasn’t losing too much ground behind Riva, so I decided I should walk. I caught up to her on the downs and we chatted away for the first 5 or so miles. I was totally blown away by how kind and open she was. I don’t know why I had been anticipating anything else, but I figured these awesome ultra runners wouldn’t have any interest in talking to me. Riva’s gearing up for Western States this year, which will be her first 100miler. I expect she’ll be phenomenal.

Riva going up

By mile 5 it was light enough out to not need a headlamp, and it was suddenly driving me crazy. I didn’t notice the weight of it on my forehead when I needed it, but now that it was light out it felt like a dead weight. I was happy to realize I wasn’t freezing to death, though that would soon change. Now that it was light out I could finally allow my concentration to shift and attempt to drink a little. My hands were pretty numb, and the act of unscrewing the Gatorade top was futile. I spilled fluid all over my hands, which took another 5 miles to finally dry out. I also realized I should take a Gu, which was an even more impossible task than the formidable bottle top. I finally stopped and set all of my crap down on the ground and took my time fumbling with the safety pinned gu packets conveniently on the back of my shorts. I had my camera with me as well, but it was really hard taking pictures while holding the Gatorade bottle. With the handheld I don’t actually have to grip the bottle and can manage much better, but between frozen fingers and a bulky bottle I just wasn’t doing well. Thank God we were in a foot race. I actually fell at one point while walking uphill and it seemed that my legs were so numb I literally couldn’t control them. It was more of a controlled stumble, but still was enough to get me down and dirty. I saw mud on my knee out of the corner of my eye but later realized it was blood. Oopsie daisy.

Miles 5-8 had some pretty darn good climbs, but I don’t recall how often I walked. We got our first taste of what was to come over the last portion of the race, but had no idea to the degree of difficulty we would be facing.

Riva pulled ahead of me and I was happy to let her go. I started panicking that I shouldn’t have run with her for so long, as I had no business being on pace with her or Amy. Especially not today. After dropping off my headlamp at an aid station around mile 7.5 I was slammed by the jarring discomfort of cold air. We were cresting to the highest point of the race on top of a ledge, and my face was completely numb. I constantly had to look down at my shorts to make sure they were still on, as I literally couldn’t feel the fabric against my skin. I had this vision of the over-loaded Gu situation pulling my pants down without me noticing. My hands were miserably cold and I desperately wished for hand warmers, but there were no hand-warmer elves to be found roaming through the sparsely populated trees.

With the sun coming over the mountains it was supremely tranquil scenery and I found myself wishing I could lay down and take a nap. I hadn’t seen another runner since losing Riva, so it was very quiet with only the sound of my clobbering footsteps making my way along the ridge. Mile 10 started a nice downhill section through soft dirt with occasional mud. I relaxed my upper body and let my shoulders position slightly over my knees. Thank you, core work. I saw a man on a bike who I realized was Riva’s husband, and tossed him my camera asking if he would take it to the finish. He was so kind, and without knowing who the heck I was gladly took it off my hands. I was sad to pass it off, but I realized I just couldn’t handle taking pictures today.

I came down off whatever “hill” we were just on and was surprised to practically bump in to Riva. Apparently she wasn’t very far ahead of me in the least. We came through an aid station side-by-side though I pulled behind her as not to block her reach from the table. The next 2ish miles were a nice rolling dirt/loose gravel road and I immediately lost Riva. She bolted after the aid station and I had no desire to stay with her. My pace was starting to look more like a marathon pace than a 50k pace, so I backed off as much as my legs could handle on the downhill.

Mile 14 I started to feel exhaustion in my hip flexors and I was pretty worried about what would come next. I coasted through15 but it was starting to feel like mile 20 in a marathon…or maybe like mile 15 in a 50k 3 weeks after a marathon.

By mile 17 I was done. My legs were exhausted and they just wouldn’t cooperate. On the plus side, I wasn’t cold anymore and my hands were finally dry. I fumbled with my Clifsicle that had frozen at the top of the mountain and couldn’t get it out of the duct tape, so I had to rip open the package with my teeth and let the bar fall out. I also really had to pee. Like, really really really had to pee. I never have to stop for the bathroom in races and I suppose the cool temperatures were preventing me from being too dehydrated, hence the full bladder. Between the pain in my legs and the need for a pit stop, I was in a pretty low place mentally. I couldn’t fathom how on earth I was going to finish the race and I chided myself for being so arrogant as to run so close behind Riva for so long. I wasn’t sure if I had gone out too fast or if it was the horrible post-marathon legs, but it just sucked. I came to a creek and had to plunge in to the frigid water for a good 10 steps, which came up a few inches above my ankles. Now my legs are exhausted, I have to pee, AND I have sopping wet feet. Mommy :(

For those who are thinking “just go behind a bush already!”, know this…there were no bushes. In fact, there was nothing but super skinny trees completely naked of leaves, hardly good camouflage for me to take shelter behind. I had no idea how far the next runner was behind me, and assuming it was a guy I really didn’t want any sudden surprises. For the both of us.

I finally threw caution to the wind and just took care of business, about 8 miles after the urge had started. I’m such an idiot. I felt instantly better and no one was anywhere near me. Having one of my 3 problems solved I felt a little better, but still wanted to be done with this mess of a race. At mile 20 the uphill climbs started, and I decided then and there to walk every single climb for the rest of the race regardless of how short/steep it was (in fact, had I not made the decision mentally my legs would’ve come to those terms on their own). By mile 21 I secretly wished I could walk until mile 23, not realizing that just up ahead were some serious switchbacks that were absolutely NOT runnable for the likes of me.

I ended up walking for about 45 minutes straight, which is about the longest stretch of walking I’ve ever had to do in a race (save the Leadville marathon). 2 guys passed me going up and it made me feel better to hear them express my thoughts about how tough the climb was.

I came up to the aid station at mile 23 and grabbed some PB&J and refilled my bottle. They confirmed it was 8 miles to the finish, which I was worried about because all of the trail races I’ve done have been so far off on my Garmin I never knew if my watch would read 31 or 34. Thankfully this was going to be a 31 mile race for a change.

Around 23.5 there was a good decent and I had a hard time finding my running legs again. They were pretty beat up from the climbs and didn’t really cooperate any better on the downhill. About a mile later everything seemed to magically get better as I found my legs responding to my commands. They ran faster when I told them to, and didn’t stumble on the rocks and roots. My relief at this newfound sense of energy was short lived as I came to by far the most difficult terrain I’ve ever run on. To say a mountain spit up every rock imaginable and showered a 4 mile stretch with the its bile might give you a remote idea. There was absolutely no where to put your feet except on loose rocks, and hope that you didn’t lose your balance. I fumbled through the rocks like a Clydesdale in a mine field, perhaps less gracefully. I was not-so-agile on this particular course.

:( Boo. This was taken on the way up, but we came down this same portion.

I so desperately wanted this race to be over, and my legs were finally ready to run, but I just couldn’t figure out how to run over this crap. I stumbled in to a tree and wanted to cry with frustration, but nobody cared. After maybe 2 miles of this I was growing completely angry. “Rock” was a new 4-letter word for me, and it may be the most offensive of all. I saw the 2 guys who had passed me earlier just up ahead and realized they were struggling just as much as I was. Now it seemed my 3 previous problems were solved but this new issue just would not relent. Every turn left me praying the next piece of trail just around the corner would be r@$#-less, but it wasn’t the case. There was a super steep drop around mile 28, but it turned out to be impossible for me to run down. The combination of the grade and the technicality of the terrain left me completely hopeless.

FINALLY we popped out of the rocky hell at the last aid station where I dropped my bottle and wanted to weap openly at the sight of asphalt. Beautiful, smooth, black, luscious asphalt. Normally at the end of a trail race the feeling of road under your feet is torture, but this time there was much rejoicing. I was giddy when my legs settled in at a sub8 pace and I quickly passed the 2 guys heading up the road. I’ve never finished a 50k so strong, and didn’t understand why I suddenly felt great. I laughed at my mental battle over the last 10 miles, and went from thinking I would never run another 50k ever again to thinking about my next race in April. Oh silly mind games.

I made a wrong turn with less than a mile to go, and thankfully the 2 guys saw me turn and whistled loudly to bring me back around. It wasn’t far off course, probably a minute or so. Just enough to be annoyed with myself for missing some of the most blatant course markings imaginable. It takes a special person to go the wrong way on this course. Seriously, they did an amazing job marking the trail. A++.

Anyways, the last mile went by fast but I couldn’t quite catch the guys who had passed me when I went off course. I didn’t care, it was almost over. As I came through the finish area Riva cheered me on while her husband snapped a photo. I cried out to Riva “THAT SUCKED!” and she laughed.

Finish time: 5:24. I hung out at the finish area after changing my clothes and chatted with the other runners who had finished. What was amazing to me was how staggering the results were. It seemed like it took 30 minutes for the next runners to come through. I knew I was 3^rd, but what I didn’t realize was that I was only 10 minutes behind Riva and 15 minutes behind the other Amy. Not too shabby…

Me, Riva Johnson, Amy Lane (North)

We huddled by the fire and I got to know Amy and Riva a little better, it made the race all worthwhile. I met so many great people it made me excited for Promise Land in April (even though I expect that course to be much harder than Bel Monte). I’m definitely still figuring all of this ultra/trail stuff out, but one thing I’ve noticed is that the highs are high and the lows are low.

I should also note that the ONE thing I did absolutely right was wear the right shoes for the occasion. I heard a lot of people complaining that their feet hurt really bad and were tenderized from pounding over the rocks, and I am so thankful I didn't have this problem. The Salomon XR Crossmax held up to the test, which is crazy because they are supposed to be a road to trail transitional shoe...not a hard-core rock hopping shoe.

I'm really excited to try out more Salomon shoes, as I still have no idea what I'm supposed to be wearing. Heck, I'm lucky I even have trail shoes (and let me be clear, Salomon is NOT paying me to say this). I just know when I find something that I like =)

Amy (North), Riva, Me (Dirty South)

We were presented our awards for top 3 (wooden plaques) and the other Amy was announced as “Amy Lane North”, and I took “Amy Lane South”. I kinda like it J

The really freaky coincidence is that Amy is engaged to a man named Brian. Ha. I got in my car and left before I found out if she also has 2 great danes and likes wine.

If you made it this far, kudos to you. You should probably hydrate and eat something by now.

Course profile...6,300 ft total gain

Total rocks: A bazillion

Napa Valley Marathon

2011-03-07T15:35:00.000-05:00

It’s hard to be anything but ecstatic with an 8 minute PR. With that, I begin my not terribly epic and usually long-winded race recap.

I’ve dubbed myself an honorary NorCal "local" racer, as I realized I’ve crossed the country 3 times in the past year to toe the line for a marathon. What can I say? California has a lot of good stuff going on.

Friday was a nightmare logistically between the 3 hours of sleep and 6 hour plane ride, with a bunch of rather boring complications at the airport and rental company. Needless to say I was relieved when I finally made it to my host’s house in Santa Rosa that afternoon. Carrie (my lovely hostess) had been gearing up for Napa before plaguing herself with injury from a very serious round of Dance Dance Revolotion with her energetic daughters. So yes, even video games are off limits during taper.

Expo:

I was completely exhausted all day Friday and was pretty terrible company for Carrie on the hour-long commute to Napa. Enjoying the passing scenery through my groggy eyes was enough to get me excited about running in wine country in spite of the sleep deprivation. We arrived at the expo at 6pm as the website claimed you could pick up your bib until 8pm, and were rather confused by the rude and unaccommodating volunteers. They apparently closed at 6, though did not seem to realize there was conflicting information on their website. A few of the volunteers were very nice and helped us get our bib, but as we stood there a woman sneered that they were locking the doors as soon as they (meaning us) left. She was also pretty unhelpful when we asked about parking at the start, and pointed out that since there will be thousands of family members who want to watch their loved ones start, we should take a bus instead. Screw it. We went to pick up our much-coveted duffel bags and shirts, but were surprised to find the shirt people already gone. When we asked a volunteer about it they said everyone left at 6. I was baffled, it was 6:05. Were they really in that much of a hurry to leave when they saw runners coming in to the expo at 6? The volunteer told us to come back the following day during expo hours, and I said that wouldn’t be possible as we were an hour’s drive away. They said “sorry, but we’ve been here all day. We’re tired and want to leave”. WHAT?!!! I flipped out. I was exhausted, hungry, worn out,…and I tried very hard to calmly explain that as I had paid for my shirt, flown all the way across the country, drove for hours to make it to the expo, it would be nice if they could spend 60 seconds getting me a flipping shirt. Ugh. Anyways, I’ve never felt so unwanted at an expo before. Very disappointing.

Pre-race dinner

As usual, the gang met up for some pasta for some solid carbs and conversation.

James, me, Carrie, Jim

Race Day:

After a good 6 hours of sleep I woke up a few minutes before my alarm at 4:40. I was feeling pretty calm in spite of the rain pounding against the window, determining to mess with my head. I knew that had definitely improved since the last marathon (Chicago), but the mileage thing was still a concern for me. I ran an unimpressive 185 miles in Dec., 198 in Jan, and 207 in Feb. By far my lowest mileage to date for a marathon. Nevertheless, I was ready to rock ‘n roll.

We drove through the rain to the start with a short pit-stop on the way. By the time we parked and walked to the start area we both had to pee again. Carrie was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be able to race because of her leg, but she wanted to at least start and see if it would be manageable to run easy.

No comment.

We stood in the warm rain in one of many super-long lines and at 10 minutes til the start of the race were still pretty far back in the line. We took off for a little hill on the side of the road where men and women alike were pissing in the grass. I was thankful for a long garbage bag to give me a little privacy. The things we do for races…

Potty lines...booo

Carrie was awesome and supportive and took my bag to the drop with only 8 minutes to spare. She knew I was getting antsy as I was gunning for a PR, and she still had no idea if she was even running. Bless you, Carrie.

The mad-scramble in the final hour (err, 8 minutes)

He isn't actually peeing, just looks suspicious.

I pushed my way through the crowd to get up to the front, not wanting to get boxed in by anyone. I don’t know why it still surprises me to see people who clearly aren’t “fast” standing about 3 feet behind the line.

I was tempted to tell the overweight guy standing in front of me that I would likely run him over if he didn’t go out at a 7:00 pace or faster. Before the gun went off I met Guillame, which was fun. I was expecting to see Jim & James, but never did. I figured Jim was staying further back to be conservative and James was likely peddling a bagel off of an unsuspecting bystander. I did however see Ian Sharman, who re-claimed his world record for the fastest marathon in a costume (and who is also amongst the best of ultra-runners today).

I should probably mention by now that it was raining steady, but with temps in the 50s it felt absolutely fine. I wore my Endurasoak singlet and cheap cotton gloves, which was just perfect. The gun went off and true to my prediction I was frustrated by the posers who had no business being at the front of the race. I told myself to calm down and skirted my way around everyone, and quickly fell in to a rhythm. It was hard holding back, as my legs were itching to go and we had a slight downhill. My plan was to average 7:00s, but with all of the slight hills I knew my watch would probably never actually say 7:00. Easy on the up, relaxed on the downs. Seemed like a comprehensive plan….

After the first mile I settled in next to a guy and we stuck together for about the first 7-8 miles. He was easy to chat with and I found that I missed about 5 mile markers in a row, and consequently had no splits to gauge my speed. I wasn’t sure how accurate the Garmin would be, so I really wanted to go by the splits. Oh well, I was feeling loose and happy and genuinely having fun. Tahoe Matt (as I aptly named him) told me about his gig as a high school principal, and how he has a system to allow kids to run with him to serve as detention time. I loved that he takes the time to do something so personal with the kids, and told him to watch St. Ralph whenever he needs a little inspiration. At some point I saw James run by us, looking as spry as a 16 year old with nothing to lose. He said he missed the start because of the port-a-potty lines, and was making up lost time. He looked good for his first sub 3 attempt.

Joan Benoit Samuelson came up behind us and ran in my range for a ways, and it was really neat getting to talk to her. I mean, how often do amateur (hobbiest?) athletes get to talk to legends during a race? I was smiling like a goof knowing that I was now “fast” enough to run her easy run pace. Hey, it’s a start. She told me she was only running 16ish miles, and encouraged me along. We also talked about the “weight in wine” award, and she told me she’d once won her weight in salmon! I’m still a little giddy by this.

Around 8, Tahoe Matt pulled ahead slightly (though I would later pass him) and I chatted up the next guy, Air Force Tim. We actually had a lot in common as he was stationed at DLI in Monterey, which is where I first fell in love with running marathons. I told him I was at DLI for 2 years, and Big Sur was my first marathon. He said he ran Big Sur last year too as his first marathon, and we exchanged stories about living and running around Monterey. He was looking really strong, and I had a feeling he was going to end up dropping me. We ran really well together and kept a pretty steady pace for the first few miles. I was hitting 6:5xs pretty consistently and felt good with that. Legs were fine, breathing was fine, everything seemed just fine.

Probably the worst part about this race is that there wasn’t a marker for the 13.1, so I don’t actually have a split for the first half (I suppose there could be worse things...like not enough port-a-potties at the start). I hit 13 at 1:30:56, so probably a 1:31:35ish first half. The water stops had been and would continue to be a breeze. The volunteers were fantastic, always making it well known who had Gatorade/water, and worked with you to make sure the cup made it in your hand. I was a little frustrated by the plastic cups, as they don’t bend at the top for an easy pour on the run. I muttered out of frustration at one point, and one of the volunteers said “Hey, we hate these things too!”. Good. The rain subsided at some point before the half, but I hardly even noticed. The clouds provided the perfect cover, and for the first time in a very long time I had no complaints about the temperature. At one point (while running uphill) I noticed the wind pick up a little, but gave it no though. I eventually spit, and when it came back at my face I realized we had a head wind. I felt panic for a nanosecond, and then thought about my 5k 2 weeks ago and laughed at the mild little breeze we were facing in this race.

There weren’t many spectators along the road due to lack of access to the course by vehicle, and I was completely relieved. A few people were complaining along the way, and I was secretly sending my thanks to the race director for making this a quiet, private course. Every once in a while I remembered to look around me and was continually amazed by the vineyards. I was sad to not have my camera, though I know I can’t be a photographer and run a PR in the same race.

Air Force Tim and I had it easy going, and around 18 we started picking it up. My plan was to maybe somehow by some miracle run a negative split (oh how funny my brain works at times), and I was still feeling ok. I was definitely working harder and breathing harder, but still no signs of anything bad to come. We passed a guy who ended up picking it back up to stick with us, and we became a pack of 3 running in tight formation navigating the slight hills with little to no conversation. I started breathing a lot harder, but other than that it seemed to be fine. Finally around 21 the wheels came off and I realized I was the only one breathing hard. Tim was still breathing easy and when I saw a 6:29 pace on my watch I knew I was in trouble. I immediately fell back and let them go, I couldn’t afford to get caught up in it. About .25 miles later the wheels did come off, and there was no salvaging the race. By 22 I was in pain and seriously fighting for any semblance of a pace. I wanted to stop, walk, moan & groan about the tightness in my legs and the pain in my feet. My breathing was under control (probably because I had slowed down so much), but my legs were toast.

Even though I dropped my pace significantly (>30 seconds /mile), I was still picking off runners, and not a single soul passed me since I left Tim & Co. There were a lot of people fading hard and fast, but at a worst rate than me. I just focused on getting to the next aid station, and for the first time in many races never thought for a second about my finishing time. I would get there when I got there, and it would be the best that I could do.

Around mile 24 spectators starting coming out, and I was attacked by the clamor of cowbells and obnoxious noisemakers. If there was a way to sue the company who invented those, I would gladly join the plaintiffs. When I’m exhausted and in pain, the sound of those things just makes me feel that much worse. It hurts my brain and my soul. I know, I’m a poor sport.

I finally hit mile 26 and managed to pick off a couple more runners ahead of me who were really struggling. I knew I was almost done, but there were so many turns that I never saw the finish until it was right in front of my face. Sometimes it’s better that way anyways.

I crossed at 3:04:16 (chip time), and was escorted by 2 volunteers to through the finisher’s shoot. They were pretty fantastic about making sure everyone was ok to walk, but I had a hard time getting people to leave me alone. A for effort, but I really just wanted to lie down. My legs were a tight, painful mess of nerves.

I saw James immediately and he wasn’t sure of his chip time. He came across at 3:00:xx on the clock, and was anxious to see the actual results. I convinced him to head over to the physical therapy room so we could get stretched out without having to do any of the work. This is the first time I’ve ever taken advantage of something like that, and it was heaven. I think my muscles recoiled in my legs and had no plans of ever coming out, but the girl working on me really helped. Air Force Tim was in there getting worked on when I arrived, and come to find out he ran a 3:01, which is insanely impressive considering he didn’t start his negative split until mile 18 (and he’s only been running marathons for a year…)

Carrie found us at the finish and I was sad to hear she didn’t run, but she’s wicked fast and will be kicking serious butt at her next race. Eventually James’s friend found us and greeted us with cups and a bottle of delicious champagne. After chugging my carb-free protein shake (seriously?), the champagne helped restore order.

Champagne, water, & protein shake...why not? And yes, I look like a pathetic wet dog.

I didn’t remember enough about specific points on the course to give a by-the-mile detailed report, but overall I found the course to be fast and fun. It’s not flat, but it has more downhill than up, and the uphill isn’t anything difficult. I would definitely run this race again, and plan on peeing in the bushes much earlier at the start.

Jim, me & James playing with the wine scale.

Me & Carrie, the bestest hostess!!

Results:

3:04:16 (chip time)

12^th female overall

4^th age group

54/1755 overall

Splits:

Mile 1: 6:53

Mile 2-6: 34:56

Mile 7: 6:56

Mile 8-9: 13:56

Mile 10: 7:05

Mile 11: 6:52

Mile 12: 7:07

Mile 13: 6:54

Mile 14: 7:09

Mile 15: 7:03

Mile 16: 7:22 (long hill)

Mile 17: 6:57

Mile 18: 6:49

Mile 19: 6:41 (oops)

Mile 20: 6:46 (oops again)

Mile 21: 6:45 (super-oops)

Mile 22: 7:07

Mile 23: 7:19

Mile 24: 7:23

Mile 25: 7:26

Mile 26: 7:23

26.2: 1:24 (6:09 pace)

Total Garmin mileage: 26.38 (not so good on the tangents, plus the usual inaccuracy of GPS watches)

What next? Maybe we should save that for another post...

This is my blog, and these are my guns...

2011-02-19T11:32:00.000-05:00

….this one’s for fighting, this one’s for…never mind.

Well, time to check back in. P90 has been amazing. I am not following the recommended routine, but I’m squeezing in a core/upper body/ abs workout whenever I have time and/or after feeling sufficiently recovered from previous workouts. I’m actually excited when my alarm goes off and I head down to the basement in my fuzzy purple slippers to face off the once dreaded pull-up bar.

What sort of face are you supposed to make when you're flexing in front of a camera??

I believe I’m currently in the best shape of my life (save the 13 weeks I spent in USMC Boot Camp…I’ve since switched out my drill instructors for a loving husband and 2 drooling 4-legged children). My weight isn’t as low as I had hoped, though I’ve still managed to lose 8 lbs and continue to increase my strength.

I can honestly say there is a huge improvement in my running thanks to all of this core work, and I’m hoping it pays off big in 2 weeks. My form is solid and I’m finding my paces are dropping with minimal effort. Track workouts have been so rewarding that I actually willingly ran a 5k today. I couldn’t remember the last time I ran a 5k, or what my “PR” was, so Athlinks served me well yet again. According to Athlinks, I ran a 21:31 in 2009 (I remember it was a horribly hot day) and a 20:52 in 2007. I knew that I was faster than that, so I was excited to see what I could do.

I woke up to the sound of a hurricane outside of my bedroom window this morning. Am I back in Flordia? No. is it even hurricane season? No. What day is it? A quick cup of coffee and the weather report concluded that the winds were at a steady 30mph tempo with gusts over 50mph. Bwaaaaaaaa!!!!! So much for a stellar race…

I dragged my wonderful neighbor, Eliza, out of bed at 5am so we could head to Haines Point in DC, find parking, pick up our bibs, and get in a short warm-up. The By George 5k is a small, cheap race (can I get a “hells yeah!”?) and it showed. There were a good 50 people standing around aimlessly with no clue where the registration table was, so after a bit of investigative walking we found the table blocked from view behind some trees. The volunteers didn’t seem to care if we found them or not. Hey, I’ll take it for a $15 race.

As we stood around waiting for the start of the race and trying desperately not to get blown over when the gusts came through, I somehow got settled in behind the 3 people at the front of the line who would NOT go out fast. Oh no, quite the opposite I figured if they’re toeing the line, they have good reason to be. Someone yelled “go!” and we started running. I instantly got boxed in behind these 3 dudes and muttered out of frustration as I tried to get around them. Finally free, I set off on a particularly fast pace during a short tail-wind stretch. One girl in front of me, one at my shoulder. Hmmmm.

The course was a horse-shoe shaped out and back, which meant we’d be running tail wind/head wind/tail wind/head wind. I took advantage of the tail wind and came through the first mile at 5:52.

A little fast, not too bad. As if on cue, we changed directions and my pace instantly dropped. Holy freaking crap!!! Who’s pulling on my singlet? Someone’s dragging me backwards!!! Nope. Just the wind. 2^nd mile: 6:13.

Here I realized the disadvantage of a horse-shoe shaped course. The course is measured along the inside curve running out, which means you’re running on the outside curve on the way back. Those distances are not the same, as it’s the difference of running on the inside lane of the track v. the outside lane (there’s a reason the lanes are staggered…). I never swear by the distance of a garmin, but it’s logical math….1.55 miles out on the inside of the curve is not the same as running on the outside. Anyways. They did not move the finish line up to compensate for the added distance.

Mile 3, starting to feel the burn. Lungs are working hard, slight taste of blood in the back of my throat. Some people get vomit-y , I get bloody? 1^st place chick is just up ahead, but she hardly even looks like she’s working hard. B!tch. Just kidding. No really… I look at my watch and realize I can break 19 if I keep my pace. Just then, the wind decides to come in full force, head first. Well, at least no one’s passing me. Finish line? No, that’s the 10k turnaround. There. Last 1.10, 6:15 pace.

Unofficial time: 19:10, 2^nd female. I really wanted to break 19, but that freakin wind was a killjoy.

Where does this leave me? After talking to some of the other runners who finished around me, they all agreed they normally run anywhere from 30-45seconds faster in a 5k. What kind of people run multiple 5ks? Huh. So maybe I would’ve been well under 19 if the day had been more ideal…it was a flat course, so no complaints there. Just mother nature playing her tricks on runners, as usual. I’m ecstatic with my performance, as I felt strong the entire race and didn’t want to kill anyone or anything afterwards.

After cooling down for a bit I went to collect my prize…a cherry pie. I approached the race director (whom I’ve encountered on multiple occasions and have since decided he’s certifiably nuts) and told him I was the 2^nd female. The conversation that ensued was par for the course:

Me: I was the 2^nd female, can I have my pie please?

Him: Congratulations! You must be Amy Lane.

Me: Yessir

Him: (in a very serious voice) Are you Penny Lane’s sister?

Me: No…

Him: Well, great job Penny!

Me: My name is Amy

Him: (grabs the microphone) Everyone, can I have your attention please…Penny Lane was our 2^nd female, please congratulate her on her impressive time.

Me: My name is Amy

Him: Here’s your pie, thanks Penny!

Me: You're welcome.

I’m now excited to be in full taper-mode with Napa a mere 2 weeks away. Even though my time was not what I had expected, it showed that I’m a much stronger runner than when I ran a 3:12 in Boston last year. Time for some serious PR’s in 2011.

Progress...

2010-12-06T13:26:00.000-05:00

Hello boys and girls, just a quick note today...sorry it isn't a long winded race report ;)

I mentioned in a post last month that I was in the works of getting a plan together to lose weight and start knocking out more intense workouts. I'm happy to report that my 2011 Race Weight or Bust plans are in full swing.

Taken on 11/12 at 141 lbs

Blah

Oddly enough, I dropped a few pounds after JFK (and miraculously over Thanksgiving) so I seem to have a head start. This morning I weighed in at 136 lbs, which hopefully means 11 lbs more are mine to lose!

The nutrition plan: I'm eating 8-10 "meals" a day, with every meal packing on 20-25g of protein, 20-25g of carbs, and a total of 30-40g of fat per day. I'm essentially eating every 2 hours, which is problematic at times but I'm learning how to cope. I take a few little tupperware containers of chicken and rice to school every day, and eat one of those every 2 hours. I think I have more food in my bag than I do books. I realize this much protein is a bit unconventional for an endurance runner's diet, but I think it's going to stir things up for my metabolism.

I've been struggling through P90X workouts a couple times a week, and I'm already noticing an improvement on my pushups and core exercises. Today I was able to complete the entire chest & back routine (for those who have done P90X...you know what I'm talking about!), which is a remarkable gain since the last time I attempted it and stopped/fell on my face half way through.

Tomorrow marks my first day back at the track in OVER A YEAR. I'm terrified and excited at the same time. I haven't run a sub-7 mile this entire year, so those 1000M repeats are going to kick my butt.

School is winding down for winter break, which means I finally have time to breath/sleep/bake/clean....or just work out a few more times a week :)

Hopefully in a couple of weeks I'll have even more progress to report!
Who else is trying to tone up before the spring racing season arrives?

JFK 50 Miler

2010-11-23T18:33:00.000-05:00

Who said running 50 miles was hard? HA! It's ridiculously hard!

Who: Me, Matt, & A.J.

What: JFK 50 Miler

When: Nov. 20^th, 7am

Where: Hagerstown, MD

Why: I wanted to see if I could run 50 miles. I know there are a lot of mega hard 50s out there (especially in the west), but those require a lot of walking. JFK is notorious for the long, dreaded, boring flat portion along the C&O canal, and other than the first part on the AT there is little walking required.

How: The story begins…

In the days leading up to JFK, I was not resting as well as I would have liked. Bryan and I flew to Austin, TX to attend The Running Event (TRE) as Endurasoak vendors.

Bryan working the booth...

We had a great time out there, made a few connections and sold a lot of Endurasoak to various specialty running stores. We spent all day every day on our feet, and got very little sleep. I also found it very hard to pass up the $3 margaritas and hoards of Tex-Mex restaurants.

Trying not to look as exhausted as I felt...I think I failed.

We made it home Friday at about 1pm, after less than 2 hours of sleep the night before. We did manage to squeeze in a 4 mile run along the lakefront path, but otherwise not a lot of running this week.

I cooked a pasta dinner Friday night for Matt, AJ and I (and did NOT do the dishes after dinner), and got busy getting my gear together. Saturday morning I woke up before 4am for the 3^rd time that week, though the other times were to catch a plane. We had a quiet car ride to the Boonsboro high school where we were to pick up our bibs and wait for the fun to begin. I had one major butterfly moment, but otherwise my nerves were pretty calm.

Weapon of choice: Salomon Wings2 + Gaitors (keeps the rocks out of your shoes)

We sat on the floor in the gymnasium and watched as hundreds of runners crammed in to the gym waiting for the pre-race brief to start. I really got a sense for just how big this races was going to be. I saw a few familiar faces in the crowd and wished everyone good luck.

Packed Gym

After the pre-race brief, all of the runners swarmed out of the gym and walked the 10 minutes to the starting line. It was amazing how crowded the start was, I felt like I was in a large-sized marathon. It was chilly at the start, I think around 38-40 (forgot to check). I was shivering in my shorts, singlet, and arm warmers…but was very thankful for wearing thick gloves and a headband.

AJ, Matt, and I being super reflective

Everyone was standing shoulder to shoulder, seemingly fighting for the best vantage point. The race finally started, I don’t even recall a countdown or any sort of announcement. I just remember everyone started running.

In a 50 mile race it seems fairly obvious that you should start off slow. I was amazed at how many people were clicking off a sub8 pace… no worries, I knew I would catch them later. Matt and I picked our way through the crowd, while AJ stayed back and did his thing. The first 3 miles of the race were on the asphalt, with very long hills going up, up, up. It was hard holding back, but knowing how many miles we had to go kept me in check.

Before hitting the 5k timing mat, another running friend caught up to us. Joe came down from Maine to run, and he was in great shape to have a killer time. We stuck together for a couple of miles, but once we hit the technical portion on the AT he was off. Matt and I finally walked our first hill around mile 5 or so, which was on an asphalt bike path going through the woods. There were tons of people leap-frogging back and forth, I had to practice considerable self restraint to let them all go. I took my first gel and lost a glove, but thankfully someone behind me shouted “glove” and I scooted back down to pick it up.

We started getting in to the technical section of the Appalachian Trail (AT), though my recollection of mileage is a little foggy. The first 100m on the singletrack was filled with rocks and a tricky downhill portion. I was frustrated with the people in front of me who were walking (C’mon people!), I just wanted to let my inner mountain goat out and run down the rocks. Eventually Matt and I were able to pick off runners, though we were careful not to be too aggressive too early.

Finally my inner mountain goat was fed up with running, and I started getting frustrated with all the rocks. It’s one thing to have giant slabs of rock that you can run on, it’s another thing to have 6”-10” rocks jutting out of the ground, waiting to break your ankle. Unfortunately these were the latter. A couple of girls came up behind me and I let them pass, I realized that I was starting to get sloppy with my footing, and I didn’t want to force anything. This was not a good section to find yourself face planting on the ground. (later we learned someone had a really bad fall and busted their face brutally on the rocks).

To add to the frustration, we started passing the walkers who started at 5am. They were mostly really, really old folks who didn’t have the greatest hearing…but they were really good about trying to get out of the way. Sometimes. I was stoked to look at my watch and see that we were close to the aid station just after mile 9, where I knew Bryan would be waiting for us with our bowl of goodies. I was starting to get hungry, and was anxious to eat a cliff bar to avoid going in to calorie depletion too early in the race.

We came down a fire trail with big logs to leap over, and I had a blast shooting down them and hurdling the logs. Most people were a little more timid about it, but I didn’t care…I was having too much fun. We got held up behind a few runners coming down a couple steep switch backs, and they were going so slow I didn’t have any patience to wait for them to get down. I skirted up the side of the mountain and cut them off on the switchback, before racing down in to the open field of cheering spectators. It was amazing how many people were out there, hundreds if not more. It was a strange feeling to come out of the enclosed, quiet woods out in to a large, bright, wide open field roaring with noise.

I heard a friend yell my name, but never saw Bryan. I went over to the aid station and started to fill my water and got frustrated that I didn’t know where Bryan was. This was his first time to ever crew for one of my races, so I don’t think he realized that it’s impossible for runners to spot their families unless they really make themselves known. He seemed to figure it out and ran over to me when I was about ready to take off and offered my bowl of stuff. Which was still in the ZIPPED gallon bag. Now that I think about it, my reaction was pretty silly. I screamed at him to dump out the bag so I could get what I needed. I had heavy gloves on and couldn’t open a zipper, let alone rifle through the bag. He obliged, somewhat surprised at my reaction, and I grabbed my cliff bar before taking off through the woods again.

I was a little frustrated for a few minutes with Bryan, because I was afraid that he had no idea what he was doing. He’s always resourceful and an intelligent guy, so I didn’t try to micromanage him before the race. I started to get worried that he would forget my stuff at the other aid stations, or worse…he wouldn’t make it there before I made it through. I told myself to chill, since he was doing me a huge favor out there and I really shouldn’t be freaking out about it.

Miles 9.5-16 were very technical again. If it wasn’t a steep uphill, it was covered in rocks. To make matters worse the leaf coverage on the ground was significant. Most of the rocks were covered at least half way, if not all the way. We walked a couple of hills, never more than 30 seconds or so of walking at a time. Matt and I both admitted to being excited about the flat C&O canal portion up ahead. We knew the canal would get insanely boring, but we were starting to get sick of the congested trails and suicidal rocks.

Finally we came up to the dreaded switchbacks. We heard a lot of runners talking in anticipation of the steep switchbacks, so we really didn’t know what to think. I was looking forward to it in a sick, masochistic sort of way. Of course, once you’re down the switchbacks you’re done with the AT…so that was motivation enough. I thought I would run down them aggressively, but under control. Boy was I wrong!

The switchbacks were such sharp turns there was no chance to really run fast down them. There was one section that had a volunteer sitting at probably the steepest of the turns, and we joked that he was the catcher to make sure no one fell over the side. To make matters worse, the ground was still covered in rocks! C’mon! Finally, this seemed to be the most highly concentrated spot of 5am walkers and senior citizens. I give mad props to these folks for completing the 50 miler, and I am amazed that they made it down the trail in one piece. It was really hard passing them on the turns, but once I heard the roar of the crowd up ahead I took off and bullied my way down the mountain. I was careful to let the seniors have their space, but I wasn’t going to be walking in to the aid station.

With a hop, skip, and a giant leap I was out of the woods and on a trail that cut through a tunnel of spectators. I got a couple high fives from some local runner friends, and saw Bryan almost immediately. My previous fears were completely abated, and he showed he was more than up to the task for taking care of me. I felt like a jerk for yelling at him at the last aid station, and made a point to kiss him and shout “I love you!”. I also saw a good friend Ron who came all the way down from NH to help crew. I wonder if that had something to do with Bryan’s sudden improvement in race support ;) Ron’s been a pacer for multiple events, and as a runner himself he knows what we needed.

Without delaying any further, Matt and I took off through the trees and found ourselves on the canal. I was amazed at how fast the first 16 miles flew by on the AT…even with the tough technical sections. We tried to dial in to a 9:00 pace, and hoped to run that for the entire length of the canal (26.3 miles). We figured a 4 hour marathon was pretty manageable, and hoped to hold on for the final 8 miles.

I felt pretty frustrated for the first few miles on the canal. I felt every single mile that we ran. I was expecting a 9:00 pace to feel like nothing, just another long training run. What I didn’t expect was the tightness and muscle fatigue from the trail to make me feel so lousy. My legs weren’t working right, every step felt like an effort. I had to really focus on moving forward to keep my pace steady. I didn’t think I ran too hard on the AT, but my legs were telling me otherwise.

Matt took off to use the restroom at one of the aid station around mile 20, and I kept going knowing he would catch me. He was all bouncy and moving like he wasn’t feeling it at all. Bastard. I started focusing on not focusing, which was somewhat counterproductive. I heard a guy come up behind me and decided to keep up with him for a bit. We had a nice conversation and I completely forgot about how tight my legs were, but then he bailed to use the bathroom. Around mile 23 the path went by a camp site that had a port-a-potty, and I realized I had to pee really bad. This would be the first time I’ve had to pee in a race in a really, really long time. I decided that was a good sign since 50 miles requires a good amount of hydration.

I spent the next 5 miles wondering what happened to Matt, and hoping I would see him again. I casually chatted with folks who I was passing, and did a lot of leap-frogging with a couple of guys. There were plenty of aid stations, 1 almost every 2.5-3 miles. I saw Bryan again around mile 26 or so, and was stoked to see his smiling face. At that point the race became more about “how long until I see Bryan” instead of “how long until I finish”.

No idea where this was, but thanks Carole for catching a shot!

I hadn’t noticed, but my pace picked up after I lost Matt. That probably explains why he hadn’t caught up to me yet. I’m not sure when it happened, but my feet started to hurt really bad. Every step seemed to piss me off more and more, not quite the experience I had been hoping for. Interestingly enough, my feet usually hurt at the end of a road race but never in an ultra. I think the surface of the canal was packed enough to bother my sad size 7 feet.

My pace was really starting to drop, I started seeing 9:30s more and more frequently, with little motivation to try and get back on pace. Just when I had about given up on myself, I heard someone come up behind me. I felt like I could match his pace, so I tried…and we started talking. Turns out I was in the presence of ultra-greatness, Ian Torrence himself. I remembered reading about his Western States 100 race earlier in the year, and knew he was in pretty bad shape to be jogging with me. He's also a coach for McMillan (yes, THE McMillan calculator people) and was at the event in Austin, TX that we were at.

Turns out it was my lucky day, as he was seriously suffering from hamstring issues. We ran together for quite a while, and I never again thought about my pace. He kept me right at a sub 9:00, and encouraged me to go for a sub8 finish. It seemed pretty reasonable, I was actually a few minutes ahead of the goal. He also thought I was close to the top 10 women, which was not exactly what I had wanted to hear.

Ian pushing me along...

JFK has a rule that the top 10 runners can’t have a pacer on the course, which meant that Bryan wouldn’t be allowed to run with me. I didn’t care at all about being in the top 10, but I didn’t want my results disqualified completely either. I was so looking forward to running with Bryan, we’ve been talking about it for weeks. He isn’t a runner, and even though he’s in incredible shape from his MMA training (yes, my husband the cage fighter), 12 miles was going to be a pretty long run for him. I never ask him to run with me in race…heck, I usually don’t even ask him to go to my races. Today was different though, I wanted my husband to run with me and see my struggle for the last few miles. That might sound like a strange admission, but I knew that he would see the side of me that showed I was a fighter. I also knew he’d have to put up with my eminently crappy mood, as it’s hard to run 38 miles and feel “chipper”.

While talking to Ian, I tried to think about how many women had passed me on the trail, and in turn how many women I had passed. I felt like there had to be way more than 10, because there were many who I had not yet caught up to. Realizing that “close to top 10” could mean top 15 or top 20, I just hoped it was the latter, or that a race organizer would tell me my placing.

Random spectators along the course

Coming in to the aid station at mile 38 where I could finally see Bryan, a race organizer (someone on a bike and a safety vest) told me I was #18. AWESOME! I was relieved to hear that I didn’t have the pressure of being in the top 10, and Bryan could run with me without the fear of punishment. Bryan jumped up and down when he saw me, and hopped right in stride when I came by. We had joked that hopefully my pace wouldn’t be faster than 9:30 by the end of the race, because he wasn’t sure how fast he could run for 12 miles.

My feet were still hurting a lot, and my legs were getting pretty tight, but otherwise I was just excited to have B with me. I was surprised to see Joe up ahead, who was being paced by Ron. Joe had a tough stretch on the canal, so he was just bringing it home at this point. We ran with them for a brief stretch, but I realized that we needed to pass them in order for me to stay in my groove.

Shortly after leaving Joe & Ron, Bryan chatted me up on the many hours of waiting and watching runners. He was asking me all kinds of questions, such as what do I want to do for dinner? I was started to feel completely exhausted, and all I could say was “no”. I eventually said “no questions”. I just couldn’t converse. I was grateful for his energy, but I wasn’t very talkative.

A girl came up behind us (green shorts girl) and tried to jump in to our conversation, but there was something weird about her. Bryan and I just looked at each other and didn’t say anything. As we were coming up to an aid station, she said that she didn’t want to be caught running with a pacer because it might DQ her for the top 10. I said I didn’t think we were in the top 10, she said she didn’t either but wasn’t sure. I kindly pointed out that if she didn’t want to get in trouble she could run a few steps behind us. She replied with “This IS my pace”. Right. Whatever. I ended up pushing it a little faster because I didn’t want to be around her, something weird about the b!tchy vibes she was sending off.

Bryan and I came out of the canal portion (42 miles down!!!) and I immediately felt like crap. I was already feeling the out-of-body running experience, but when we hit the asphalt I wanted to quit. I wanted to crawl in to a ditch and cry for a while, maybe get back up and hitch a ride with one of the cows or something. I couldn’t get anymore food/gu down, and I was feeling bloated from water. I had been taking electrolyte pills, but it may not have been enough.

The miles ticked by soooo slow. I wanted to walk so badly, but I only allowed myself to walk up the steep hill straight out of the canal. The 8 miles on the road were very rolling, and I imagined it would’ve been a fun run had it not been after running 42 miles already. There were cow pastures everywhere, though my eyesight was less than stellar. At one point I asked Bryan if a field was filled with sheep or rocks…turns out it was rocks, but I couldn’t tell. Looked like sheep to me!

They had aid stations just about every 2 miles, and I felt like I was killing myself to get there. I was running anywhere between 10:30-11:30 pace, never walking. I forgot to push the lap button on my watch after coming off the canal, so it’s hard to say just how slow I ran. The volunteers at the aid station were really nice, but I completely lost my ability to speak. They tried to ask if I wanted anything, and I couldn’t reply. I would just walk over to the Gatorade, drink that and continue on. Would’ve been nice to eat, but it wasn’t happening.

Each aid station was a repeat of the last, with me growing more and more demoralized. Bryan was so sweet, he commented on random things and just tried to keep me smiling. He could tell how frustrated I was getting because of how many people were passing us. I had been doing all the passing on the Canal, but now I was getting picked off like the last piece of pie after thanksgiving dinner. Mentally I was a wreck. Every mile felt like 10 miles, and it seemed like the race would never end. My feet hurt so bad, and the tightness in my legs was starting to make my form pretty terrible.

I heard a familiar voice behind me, and Ian came up along side pacing a new victim. He looked at me and asked how I was doing, but I didn’t need to answer. He could see it in my face and in my form. He encouraged me to just bring it in, whatever it takes to cross the finish line. It amazed me how much worst I felt at miles 42-44 than I did at mile 40-42. It made no sense.

After what felt like and eternity, I saw the marker with 3 miles to go. Then 2. 2 miles. In my head, I knew that was close…in my legs, it felt like I may as well be running to Canada. Bryan mostly stopped talking, he ran behind me and I took comfort in hearing him breath. I just needed him with me, I wanted to share this day with him. He didn’t carry any gel for me, he didn’t get me water or pace me. He just ran behind me and let me run my race (or stagger to the finish).

Shortly after 1 mile to go, he left me to finish on my own. We decided he shouldn’t finish with me, because the finish line is reserved for those who have run the whole race. I knew he’d find me at the finish, and locked my legs in to a forced pace. I caught a glimpse of someone not too far behind me, and realized it was a chick. 2 of them actually. That’s it, no more passing Amy.

I don’t know how, but my legs found a 7:15ish pace for the last half mile. I wasn’t going to let anyone else catch me. As I neared the finish, all I could think about was how I would feel when it was over. Would I collapse on the ground? Would my legs lock up? Would I puke? I heard the announcer say “Top 10 female coming in right now folks, looks like it’s going to be a fight to the finish!”. Crap. Serious crap for 2 reasons. 1- That means the chicks are hot on my tail. 2- That means Bryan was illegally pacing me.

I tried not to think about the 2^nd reason, and kicked it in like I’ve never done before. It was maybe 50m that I really had to sprint, and my watch registered a 3:49 pace. I know that isn’t possible, but the point is that I literally sprinted my ass off. Definitely a sub 6 pace…

Finish Time: 8:10:46, 9:49 pace. 113/1014 finishers.

Anyways, I crossed the finish and the RD congratulated me on being the 10^th woman and commented on my impressively strong finish. I thought to myself, if only he knew how poorly I ran for the last 8 miles…3 women passed me on the road.

The Finish Line

I stood still while they took off my chip, refilled my handheld, and collapsed on the grass. I was in a numb state of disbelief. I ran 50 miles. In 8:10. Before I could reflect any further on the race, the drama began…

I saw the 2 women who came in behind me talking to the RD, wispering furiously and pointing in my direction. I then saw them wispering to green shorts girl, and looking at me repeatedly. Eventually their gaggle broke up, but I knew what they were doing. They wanted to disqualify me. I was crushed. I didn’t care about being in the top 10. You don’t win anything, just a trophy. It’s not like it’s worth money. I ran my first 50 miler, wanted to experience it with my husband, and they wanted to disqualify me because they didn’t crack the top 10. Unbelievable.

I realize JFK has its rules, and I broke them. To be fair, they did not tell us who was in the top 10 on the course. If they’re going to enforce such a ridiculous rule, they should be more diligent telling the leaders what place they are in. Also, why top 10? I can understand the top 3, but there is a HUGE difference between my level of running and the top 3 women. I don’t think it’s fair to impose those regulations on the non-cash winners.

Anyways, as the gaggle of middle school girls disbanded, I called out to one of them and asked what the problem was. She snapped at me that I clearly had a pacer and I should be disqualified. Here’s the weird thing…she actually said “he’s very good looking, but it’s not allowed”. WTF? Anyways…

The funny part is that she thought SHE got 10^th place, and I was 9^th. She was actually fighting for the other girl who got 11^th place. They figured if they got me DQ’d they could get her a trophy. As much as I wanted to bask in the glory of finishing my race, I sat in the grass distraught that they were being so horrible. Who the heck cares? Am I missing something here? Ron and Joe finished about 10 minutes after me, and I explained to Ron and his friend Meredith what was going on.

The cougar who had the hots for B saw me and told me that I’m in luck because I can’t be DQ’d if I never got red-carded on the course. Somehow the way she said it I felt like I was a piece of scum, not someone who just finished a 50 miler. How on earth do these women have the energy to be so malicious?

It wasn’t long before I started shaking and chattering out of control. I was absolutely freezing. My teeth wouldn’t stop clanging together, it was obvious I needed to get out of the cold and in to warm clothes. Bryan still hadn’t found me, but Ron took charge of finding him and getting my clothes bag. Meredith helped me stagger in to the gymnasium, where I was somewhat disappointed to find that there were no soft surfaces to lay/sit on. Who wants to sit on a wood floor after running 50 miles? The alternative of standing wasn’t much better, so I opted for the wooden bleachers.

Even sitting in the bleachers I saw some of the women talking about me. It brought me back to middle school, where all of the girls gang up on some helpless victim for whatever trivial reason. I realize I was in the wrong to have Bryan run with me, but I stood my ground that they did not make a point of telling us our placing, and the last I heard I was # 18 (and keep in mind I was passed by more women after that). Clearly they had no idea who was where. The only women they care about are the top 3, and I was an hour and a half behind them. I kept thinking, if they had just run faster than me they wouldn’t have to try to get me DQ’d…

Matt made it in a little while later, and I was happy to see he was in good spirits. He always seems to be in better shape than me after a race, but I think it’s because he started walking a lot more during the race. I went for broke, and I found it.

Matt and his weird red eyeball

I took a warm shower in the locker room (it’s freaking amazing to take a shower at the finish line, I tell you what…) and changed in to clean clothes. I tried eating a quesadilla, but only got about half of it down before I knew I had to call it quits.

The awards ceremony finally started and after giving props to all of the speedy men, it was our turn. They called me up first to get my trophy, and it was clear that they didn’t care at all about the 7-10 women finishers. They spent a lot of time talking about the top 4 women, and all I could think was please quit talking so I can sit down!!! So there, I got my trophy…just wait until someone reads this blog and reports me to the JFK RD, and asks me to overnight my trophy to the woman who finished behind me. I realized that the woman who thought she was #10 was probably furious that she was actually 11, and had she known that at the finish line I bet she would’ve forced the RD’s hand and gotten my trophy.

Top 10 ladies (minus whoever went home already)

Anyways, the drama is over. I’m a little crushed that my experience from this race left me with the impression that ultra women can be ultra b!tches. Maybe you agree with those women that I should be DQ’d, but this is my blog and not yours.

Go ahead, take it from me. Just try.

Just when we were starting to get worried about AJ, he came in the gym. I was ecstatic to see that he finished. His Achilles was majorly jacked up, and we all thought he was going to have to call it quits around 20. He hasn’t been able to run more than 15 miles in well over a month, it wasn’t looking like he could finish a 50. Not only did he finish, but he finished in just under 10 hours (9:59!). So awesome, we all did it!

AJ's pizza platter

Post race:

We went out to dinner later that night, where I was sad to learn that it’s almost impossible to eat after such a hard run. I couldn’t keep much food down that night, and the next day wasn’t much better. I woke up feeling hungover on Sunday, which suck when you haven’t even been drinking! I had a severely tight hamstring that wouldn’t allow me to straighten my right leg at all, which made walking really complicated. It is now Tuesday and my hammy is markedly better, with some improvement from the tummy department. I’ve Endurasoaked twice, and who knows how long I’ll wait before I go for my next run.

The icing on the cake:

Bryan presented me with a plaque at dinner, that is somewhat hilarious and extremely sweet. It’s hard to get a picture without a glare, but it essentially says:

“10 in 2010” with a list of the races I’ve done, and then….

“Hell we may as well make it 11….”

“JFK 50”

“Or 12…?”

Even though Bryan clearly just gave me permission to run another race before the end of the year, I think I’m more than content with how this year shaped up ;)

The Throwdown

2010-11-09T13:02:00.000-05:00

That’s it, time for a change. I’m tired of being a “big” female runner. I don’t have crazy body image issues (though I'd be lying if I said I am perfectly fine with my looks), but I’ve realized that I could be a heck of a lot faster if I wasn’t carrying around so much excess weight. I think I've been hiding behind trails and ultras this year because I enjoyed not being self-conscious about my racing weight. Every marathon I've ever done, I find myself comparing my body to all of the females around me. The common factor is always this: I am heavier. Even if I end up passing the skinny chicks in the little shorts, it still bothers me that I am not like them. I know that I could be faster if I was lighter.

My (embarrassing) stats:

Height: 5’6”

Weight: 141 lbs

Body Fat: 22-23 % (not an accurate measurement...according to the scale

in my bathroom)

BMI: 22.8%

Marathon Pace: 7:22 (Boston, 2010)

After playing around with the Flyer Handicap Calculator (a “weight” handicap calculator)

it claims if I were 115 lbs, my finish time at Boston could’ve been a 2:56. I realize there are other factors, and this might not be 100% reliable, but that is pretty darn significant compared to my 3:12 at 141lbs.

According to Amby Burfoot’s Runner’s World Article, marathon pace can be decreased by 2 seconds/mile for every 1 lb of weight-loss due to your body’s increase in maximal aerobic capacity (VO2 max). Female runners can get down to a BMI of 18.5% without cause for concern from losing too much weight (I have up to 4.3% to lose).

Now, I’m not trying to get super freaky skinny. I just want to shave off some unecessary fat so I can really start to get fast. If I lose 15 lbs, that’s a potential 30 seconds/mile off of my marathon pace. In fact, now that I think about it…it’s ridiculous that I ran a 3:12 in the body that I’m in. I have an insane amount of respect for my lungs & legs.

The plan:

I’m getting a nutrition plan made, so don’t worry about me trying to cut weight by unhealthy means. I’m going to spend the winter back at the track with the Potomac River Running crew, and doing P90X (as much as I can handle with running). My mileage will be lower, but intensity is the name of the game after the JFK 50 miler (in 11 days…eeek!).

I have my eye on the Napa Marathon (March 6^th). Napa has a net downhill course, with some rollers in the beginning. I’d like to shoot for a 2:59, if I can cut the weight in time. That will be about a 13 minute PR, but I think I have a good shot if all goes as planned. Napa is 16 weeks after JFK, so I’m hoping I can start a 12 week program after a full recovery.

Before anyone comments “You don’t have 15 lbs to lose!”, I say again….I’m 5’6” and 141 lbs. I do indeed have 15 lbs to lose. 126 is hardly “too skinny” for my height. Knowing I could be faster is making me very motivated to start getting serious about my speed.

**Edited to add pictures**

To prove that dropping 15 lbs isn't totally insane, here are 2 old pictures of when I was right at 125 lbs. It was my first BQ cycle, and first Boston. Of course, I was on deployment....so it wasn't that hard to lose weight :P

Iraq-2006 (125ish lbs)

Boston 2007 (130ish lbs)

The questions is this: Will my new marathon body hold up to the challenge? Is 16 weeks post-ultra enough time to whittle down the weight and get my speed up?

I can only try, and try I will.

Stone Steps 50k

2010-10-28T13:38:00.000-04:00

October 24th

My decision to run Stone Steps came to me somewhere around mile 15 of the Chicago Marathon. I then had 11 more miles to figure out how to convince Matt to run with me, and see if I could lure anyone else in to the trap. I knew Matt wouldn’t take much convincing, but what I didn’t expect was a willing compliance from Chris, a virgin ultra runner. As fate would have it, I ran in to Chris in the finish area who expressed his race was less than stellar. Matt soon stumbled through muttering a similar sentiment. We all sat on the ground on the completely unnecessary milar blanket pondering the race and how we would salvage our training. And then it happened, I made my move. “You know, you can run a 50k off of marathon training…”. They took the bait- hook, line, and sinker. Chris signed up from his hotel room, while Matt and I signed up in the airport on our cell phones. The race filled the day we registered, so I knew we were meant to tackle Stone Steps together.

Fast forward 2 weeks…

Saturday morning Matt and I piled our gear in the car and made the 6 hour drive to Columbus, where we had reservations for the guest bed and couch at Chris and Stevi’s house. Not only was Chris willing to run with us, but he was willing to put us up for the weekend. I only hoped he would still let us sleep there after the race. We were treated to the requisite pasta dinner and obligatory bottle of wine that must be consumed before a race, as a sacrifice to the gods of glycogen…or nerves.

We spent 30 minutes prepping our fuel for the race, stuffing pharmacy bags with candy corn, candy pumpkins, and shot blocks. Stevi constructed our PB&J sandwiches with Matt fulfilling the supervisory role of an engineer. After a brief debate as to how we should cut the sandwiches, we agreed on diagonal slices as it had more adequate bite distribution than its horizontal cohort. Chris came by to criticize Stevi’s excessive use of jelly, but agreed on the angle at which the sandwiches were cut.

We managed to get to bed at a respectable hour, and I slept soundly as I was completely under the influence of Tylenol PM.

Race Day

I groggily opened my eyes and checked the time, 4:45. Good, I have 15 more minutes to sleep. I hear voices outside of my room, and pounding on the door. Matt asks if I’m awake, and I grumble “it’s not even 5!!”. He replies that we are LEAVING at 5. I suddenly realize that in my state of drug-induced drowsiness, I set my alarm for the time we were leaving instead of the time I should wake up. I leap out of bed and throw on my race clothes, and yell out for someone to please toast my bagel. Fear not, fellow blog readers, my extraordinary ability to slide by on the fly extends to even the most unprecedented situations. I was ready by 5:00 and managed to forget nothing, though I had a more concentrated amount of honey dripping on me due to stuffing my face with a peanut butter & honey bagel.

We all piled back in the car and made the 2 hour drive to Cincinnati with our crew captain Stevi and her assistant, Jinx. We pulled in to Mt. Airy National Forest and soon found a parking spot and managed to not hit any of the runners standing in the road in the early morning darkness. We got our bibs situated and stood in line for the bathrooms, which only had 1 stall. This was probably my biggest complaint about the race—they really needed a couple of porta-potties to compensate for the amount of runners and spectators.

Me, Matt & Chris

I quickly washed down a Gu at 7:45, then the RD called all of the 50k runners to huddle around for the pre-race brief. The course consisted of a figure 8 that would loop through the race HQ pavilion essentially in the middle of the figure 8. The big loop was 5ish miles (I think they claimed 5.3 miles) and the small loop was around 3.2 miles. That meant we would be hitting the aid station every 5.5 and 3 miles, which was great. We’d have access to all of our gear, and could easily adjust whatever strategies needed tweaking. Our fuel would be accessible, and best of all…we’d see Stevi and Jinx plenty of times.

The RD explained that we have to cross the timing mat after finishing every loop, and then pointed in a general direction behind his head and shouted “GO!”. Matt and I were really confused, because we thought we had to start by crossing the timing mat, you know, like most normal races. Instead we followed the herd of runners as they took off down a grassy slope and began disappearing through the woods. Chris was bending over tying his shoes when the race started, so he had to dodge around runners to catch us.

And we're off!

Soon we entered the singletrack and started focusing our attention on the treacherous terrain. I was behind a lanky guy in a red shirt with a hydration waste pack, and tried to give him some room so I could see the ground in front of me. Matt and Chris fell in behind me, and we spent the first few minutes of the race in silent concentration.

The weather was cool, a breezy 60 degrees that somehow felt more like 50. We were all worried about the weather, as the high was expected to be in the 80s. So far things were looking good though, so I tried not to worry about what would happen in the next few hours.

I was pleasantly surprised that my legs were feeling so springy. I was tempted to pass the red shirt guy, but I knew that was foolish and we were all better off keeping things under control. The first 2.2ish miles were a very fast downhill, but the terrain was rather tricky at times. I felt more confident in my footing than I ever had, but was still cautious with my approach. There were a few minor climbs, but we didn’t bother walking.

Around mile 3 we came across the dreaded stone steps. Later when I checked my watch’s elevation profile I would learn that it was a 38% grade to the top of the steps. Everyone tucked their head down and plugged away until we had cleared the last step, and then resumed running.

My legs felt dead for the first couple hundred feet after the climb, but they soon cooperated with a nice downhill segment. There were more rolling hills, up and down, over and over, until we reached Gummy Bear Hill. The first part of Gummy B. is a long, steep, slick downhill. The steepness was enough to give some of the less confident runners pause before running down it, but the terrain added even more technical skill requirements. The rocks and roots seemed to be placed exactly where I wanted to step, but I somehow managed to make it down unscathed. After surviving the downhill portion, it seemed like we crested around the side of the hill only to come right back up. On this climb my watch was boasting a 41% grade, which would explain why my lungs were about to explode by the time I reached the top.

On the slow climb up I was able to look around a little, and I realized that we lost Chris somewhere along the way. I felt bad since I dragged him in to this, but I knew he’d run his own race and be better off for it. I was momentarily distracted from the climb when I noticed a bowl of gummy bears sitting randomly on the side of the hill. Yippee! I grabbed a couple and kept pushing up the hill.

Matt and I made it to the top and were rewarded by seeing the 5 mile marker on a tree. That meant we were very close to the aid station, and our first loop would be complete. I caught my first glimpse of a girl up ahead of us, but it was too early in the race to care who is ahead of whom. The trail out of the woods and back to the pavilion was smooth and mostly flat. We pushed up one last hill and breezed in to the aid station.

1^st Big Loop- 49:25 (9:20 pace)

Stevi was ready for us, and got to work seeing if we needed anything. I filled my water, grabbed a Gu, and we headed out towards the 3 mile loop.

We immediately hit a pretty steep downhill with loose gravel, so it wasn’t entirely safe to really open up here. I kept my stride under control, and shuffled down to the bottom all the while praying my feet wouldn’t slide out of control. Soon we were running down switchbacks, only to then run up switchbacks on the next hill.

We eventually made it up to a clearing where we crossed a grassy field and found our way down in to another trail in the woods. Here we encountered the girl I had seen, and she was running with tall, lanky fellow. They were running a comfortable pace, so Matt and I ended up sticking with them for most of the loop. I chatted up the girl, Alice, while Matt struck up a conversation with her husband. Through small talk I found out that Alice gave birth 16 weeks ago, and was trying to get her trail legs back. I was completely dumbfounded that she was tackling a 50k so soon after giving birth. She said she ran a marathon 2 weeks ago, the same weekend of the Chicago marathon. I started to get an inkling of an idea that she must be more than meets the eye, because she was holding a pretty comfortable pace in spite of her recent mommy-hood.

The couple seemed to slow down a bit, so Matt and I lost them as we wrapped up the last leg of the small loop. We ran essentially all of this loop, with the exception of the steep climb with loose gravel back up to the pavilion.

Matt being...Matt.

Towards the end of the loop we encountered some people walking their dogs, and a little boy seemed to be in charge of the cutest little puppy I have ever seen. It was a Boston Terrier, but it was the size of a small hot dog and had a giant puppy belly. I wanted to stop and play with it, but I had bigger things on the agenda at that moment.

1^st Small Loop- 28:51 (9:01 pace)

Stevi was at the pavilion asking what we needed, and after a quick reply she stuffed my hand with Gu and candy pumpkins. I grabbed my camera and we were off. Matt pulled ahead of me at the trail head and I tucked in behind him.

We came up behind some runners and decided to pass them, but tried to keep our pace in check. We were both feeling really good and it was hard holding back on the first part of this loop. The lanky guy (Mr. Alice) caught up to use, and we casually chatted while I attempted not to kill myself taking pictures.

Mr. Alice's legs

Matt pulled ahead because I slowed drastically to try and get some not-blurry photos. There were a lot of spots I would’ve liked to have taken pictures, but the ground was a little too dangerous to be messing with a camera. Eventually I decided I’d had enough fun with the camera, and took off after Matt. It didn’t take long to catch him on the downhills, so soon I was back in our comfortable groove.

Stone Steps sucked just a little bit more this time, and I tried not to worry how much it would suck the 3rd and 4th times around.

I obeyed the sign gods and did not whine, hoping I would be rewarded for my efforts.

Shortly before Gummy Bear, we saw a guy on the ground rolling around in pain. Matt and I stopped to see how serious the situation was, and it appeared that he fell and landed on his kneecap on top of a rock. Ouch. We told him we’d alert the volunteers at the pavilion to look out for him if he didn’t make it back in a reasonable amount of time.

We took off skirting our way carefully down the steep side of Gummy B and came back up slowly on the crazy-steep grade.

2^nd Big Loop- 50:21 (9:30 pace)

Matt & I, stride for stride

When we came through the timing mat area, I downed a Gu, drank some heed, and told Stevi I’d be ready for PB&J after I came through on the small loop. Matt and I took off again, tackling the small loop with slightly more confidence after having run it previously. We caught a glimpse of the 50k leader who was climbing up the loose gravel hill as we were carefully making our way down. He didn’t even have to walk, he just plowed up it. Amazing.

There was also a 27k race going on, and we started encountering the 27k runners on the loop. They were pretty accommodating to either give us the right of way or let us pass them on the trail. Matt and I ran the 2^nd much more cautiously than the first time around, we were starting to notice the climbs and realized we should be walking more.

2^nd Small Loop- 31:25 (9:49 pace-longer transition made this loop a little slow)

As we came in to the pavilion Stevi pulled out our PB&Js while Matt and I took off our shoes and socks to inspect our feet. I started feeling a blister forming in the same location of my previous blood blister, so I was a little worried that they would be in rough shape. No blisters yet, so I put body glide on my feet and quickly got my shoes and socks back on. Matt wanted to eat his sandwich while stationary, but I was too pumped to wait.

I took off down the grassy slope, sandwich in hand, with jelly dripping down the side (for those paying close attention, I did eat a sandwich after touching my gross feet. Get over it).

Matt caught up to me and we enjoyed the first 2 easy miles of the big loop, but somewhere before stone steps I lost Matt. I wasn’t sure if he was hurting or something, but I knew he’d either catch back up to me or he wouldn’t.

A big gust of wind came through while I was on the steps, and the trees above me started dropping acorns like crazy. I was afraid of getting pelted on the head, so I covered my head with my arms and prayed I wouldn’t get taken out of the race by a freak acorn accident. I made it to the top, much more slowly this time around.

I passed quite a few walkers during this loop, and some runners who clearly went out too hard on the first loops. I ended up dropping my candy corn pumpkins somewhere along the way and had to settle for Gu and gummy bears instead. I started feeling a little warm and realized it was starting to heat up, though the wind helped cool me off. Right as I headed down Gummy Bear Hill, I caught a glimpse of Alice. She was catching up to me, and judging by my declining speed I was sure it wouldn’t take long. I made it back to the pavilion, starting to really feel the toll of the last climbs up stone steps and Gummy B.

Coming in just before Alice...

3^rd Big Loop- 55:38 (10:30pace)- Including the shoe/sock transition

I wasn’t really looking forward to the 3^rdsmall loop, but with Alice now hot on my heels I didn’t have much time to think about it. I managed to get safely down the loose gravel slope yet again, and focused intently on my footing as I realized I was starting to get tired…and thus much more prone to tripping. Alice caught up to me half way through the loop and we chit chatted a bit more. It was nice having some company, and I was still fascinated with her obvious superior ability. She told me she ran all the way up until the day she delivered, and was running 2 days after giving birth. Hard. Core.

(my favorite picture of the day)

We walked all of the climbs this time, I marveled at my brazen effort to run them all the first time around. Alice finally passed me just before coming in to the pavilion, but I didn’t feel the urgency to sprint to the timing mat on such an insignificant loop.

3^rd Small Loop- 35:50 (11:12 pace)

Stevi was pumped to see me come through with Alice. I guess she’d been hearing the locals chat about Alice, and they had completely written me out of the race before it even started. Come to find out, she’s the course record holder and local favorite to win races. At this point in the race, I wasn’t even sure that we were the lead females. The RD never announced anything as we came through on previous loops, and none of the volunteers told us we were leading. In a loop course like this, it’s really hard to know your placement in the pack. I kept passing runners that I didn’t know were ahead of me, and a woman very easily could’ve been up ahead. I’m still a bit miffed that the RD would announce the lead males, but say nothing when we came through.

Anyways, Stevi had my Gu in hand when I came through so I filled my bottle and took off. Alice had a longer stop, but I knew she would catch me. Apparently they announced the 2 lead females were neck and neck, but I was already gone when they made the announcement. Stevi said the RD commented on the fact that I was keeping up with Alice, which I guess is not a common occurrence. I’m sure if she weren’t recovering from her pregnancy she would blow me out of the water.

Sure enough Alice caught back up to me somewhere in the first mile of the last loop. She apologized for being on my heels, and I said I didn’t mind the company as long as she made her move before Gummy Bear Hill. I didn’t want her to coast off of me knowing she could sprint her butt off in the last half mile to defend her title.

We walked a lot and trudged through the downhill, and I noticed that my downhill pace started matching my uphill pace. Not good. If I can’t run faster than a 10:30 going downhill I knew I had no shot of pushing for the win. Alice said her legs were completely shot, but at some point after mile 2 she made her move and left me behind. I was finally alone suffering through the last 3.5 miles, knowing they were going to be the most painful miles of my life. It hurt to run, it hurt to walk. I finally had my first spill, but landed comfortably on my water bottle. I was sad when I realized I lost some water, I needed every drop. The stone steps were almost unbearable the 4^th time around. Alice was just finishing her climb up the steps as I started mine. I went really slow. I mean really, really slow. I put my hands on my quads to help push off, which in hindsight makes absolutely no sense. At one point I looked to the top and saw…

My legs were sufficiently destroyed when I finally made it all the way up. I had to stop for a second and wait for them to respond to my request to walk, and then finally run. I realized that running somehow hurt less than walking at this point, and actually started to slowly run up the hills. None of the crazy climbs, just the average little hills that were completely runnable the first time around. I passed more people, and realized that I was actually lapping them. They weren’t in a terribly good mood, neither was I. I took another Gu and was pleased with my fueling. In spite of the warm temperatures, I never felt light-headed or dizzy, which has been a common theme in my races lately.

I made it to Gummy B hill and really locked in on making it up to the top. I was so close to the finish, but there was still a 41% climb to surmount. Usually when a race gets tough I mentally withdraw in to a psycho-analysis of self and start to feel angry with everyone and everything. This time there was no such emotion. My legs simply hurt, and I was almost done. No analysis needed. I looked to Bryan for inspiration and envisioned him running up the giant hill in our neighborhood while wearing ankle weights, carrying a heavybag, and being chased by our over-zealous pup. He would love this hill, I thought.

Wishing I had Apollo to chase me up the hill...

Isn't my hubbs a badass?

I then saw the people with the cute puppy making their way down the hill, and this time I stopped to pet the little guy. He squirmed like a giddy little piglet and squealed with delight at being pet. If they have puppies like this in pet stores, I hope I never see one because I will buy it immediately without hesitation.

Up I went, and finally I made it to the top. I forced my legs to run even though they rebelled in every possible way. I came up behind another runner and startled him when I asked to pass. I was so close to the finish, I could finally see the cars in a clearing just outside the pavilion.

Suddenly, I was there. I saw the clock and felt relief when I crossed the timing mat.

4^th Big Loop- 1:02:36 (11:49 pace)

Finish Time: 5:14:02

2^nd Female (Alice finished about 3 minutes before me, for those who were wondering)

7^th overall (out of 82 starters, 68 finishers)

I was dumbfounded when I downloaded my GPS data....my watch claimed we did a total of 7480ft of climbing ( equal amount of decent). Not too shabby at all.

I’ve started to learn that the finish line at an ultra can be a funny thing. Coming from the Chicago Marathon where millions of people are cheering you on, to a small motley crew of volunteers who clap if they happen to notice you’re finishing. The internal sense of accomplishment was great, because I realized that was a hard course and I did my best.

I really, really needed to sit down but they still had to take the timing chip off. I considered just falling over and letting them sort out the mess, but somehow Stevi was able to lead me back to the picnic table where I unveiled the blister that I knew had formed over the last 2 loops.

Stevi filled me in on the boys, it appeared that Matt shouldn’t be too far behind me, and Chris had just left for his last loop as I was coming in. I asked Stevi if Chris said anything about hating me, or making me sleep outside that night, but he seemed to be in good spirits in spite of the holes in the bottom of his feet.

The sun was hot, so we found a patch of grass in the shade and I finally allowed myself to fall back and relax. Stevi was great, fussing over me and making sure I was comfortable. Jinx was quite happy to have a sweaty runner to lick, so he cuddled up on my lap.

We waited for the boys to come in and finally saw the familiar Endurasoak singlet that Matt was wearing. We cheered him in, and he seemed to be in a pretty good mood.

It was only a matter of time before Chris made it through the finish, completing his very first ultra.

The race was definitely well organized, and the volunteers were great. The trails were extremely well marked, and the aid station had a great spread of anything and everything you could possibly want. While this was a challenging course, it’s also a great set up because you are able to loop back to your gear every few miles. I would definitely recommend this race, though I would caution runners to really, really take it easy the first 2 loops.

We eventually made the 2 hour drive back to Columbus, and enjoyed our post-ultra celebration while eating all kinds of fried goodness. Fyi…if you’ve never had fried pickles, you don’t know what you’re

missing.

Thanks again to Stevi and Chris for putting us up, couldn’t have done it without you guys! Stevi wins “best supporter ever” award for her patience and ability to predict what we needed.

After the race, in spite of the dead feeling in my legs, I was hungry for more. I want to improve, I want to take on more challenges, and I want to destroy the JFK 50 miler in November.

Chicago Marathon

2010-10-12T19:46:00.000-04:00

10/10/10

Sorry everyone, no pictures this time. For those who can't wait to get to the bottom of the page to hear how it went...it was a bust. My first real "bust" out of 19 marathons, so I think I was long over-due.

Chi-town…This is it, the pinnacle of my marathon “career”. I was determined to break the elusive 3:10 barrier in the great Windy City. It took quite a few runners to convince me to run Chicago because I absolutely despise large, crowded races. Next to NYC ING, I assumed Chicago would be the 2nd worst race in America. But boy was I wrong…in fact, had the weather cooperated I’m convinced it would’ve been the best race I’d ever run. While the crowd was large, the organization of the race was immaculate. I stayed at the Chicago Hilton (race HQ) which was steps from the start/finish area. They had a shuttle right outside of the hotel to take runners to/from the expo. Restaurants galore were all within walking distance. The city was clean and didn’t reek with the normal big-city stench that I so despise. Everything seemed to be lining up perfectly, all I had to do was run the darn thing. There was a small concern of the temperatures being a little too high for a fast marathon, but I tried not to think about it. I decided that I was as prepared as I could be, and I would give it my best shot.

As most of you know by now, I’ve been somewhat of a running fool the past 10 months. I’ve run back-to-back marathons, marathons in the mountains, a 50k in the heat, and even a last minute marathon. This would be my 9th marathon of the year, and it was definitely the most important. I easily held back on my other races, they were really just an excuse to travel and run in new environments. I hit the mileage hard in August/September (peaking at 90mpw) and I lavishly enjoyed my taper, sleeping in and spending more time running with my sweet puppies (ponies?).

As I picked up my packet on Saturday, I literally had no idea what I was capable of, but I knew that 3:10 couldn’t be much of a stretch (especially given my 3:12 in Boston).

Race morning: My runner roomie (Matthew) woke me up plenty early, and for the first time in many marathons I wasn’t frantically throwing things around the room trying to find my sunglasses or watch, looking for that last safety pin, or praying that I would have time to hit the bathroom before the gun went off. As I made my way down the elevator I had that race-morning anticipation, eager to get going. There were at least 100 people in the lobby of the hotel waiting to head to the start line, and at least 100 more spectators eager to get back to bed.

I dropped my bag off at the gear check and headed to the seeded corral. I was very worried that because of the size of the race, the start area would be a giant cluster f*@# and it would take forever to make it though, but I was early enough to breeze right on to where I needed to be. I sat in the grass and watched people head in to the corrals, and saw a few familiar faces. Eventually I made my way to a pre-designated spot in Corral B where I was planning on meeting a few other runners. Sure enough, Ron, Matthew, Miles, and Nancy were all easy to find. Ron, Matthew and I look particularly dashing in our matching Endurasoak singlets.

I turned my watch on and waited for it to sync---wait a second---try it again…turn my watch on and…AH!!! It’s completely DEAD. I looked dejectedly at my watch and thought “how the heck am I going to do this?”. Unlike most well-prepared runners, I haven’t run any marathon pace miles all training cycle. Heck, I haven’t run any MP miles since BOSTON. My legs have no flipping clue what a 7:14 pace feels like, and I have no way of tracking my mile splits. I probably would’ve panicked had I been alone, but with my friends shooting for a 3:10 I knew I would just have to stick with them for as long as I felt comfortable.

The gun went off, and our little pack of 4 had no problems sticking together. I was amazed at how un-crowded it was. I hardly had to maneuver around anyone, and there was very little weaving and dodging. I did feel my heel get clipped once, but thankfully it wasn’t enough to take me down. The groups’ watches weren’t holding a signal, since we were in between many high buildings. Ron led us through the first 2 or so miles right on target. I was slightly concerned when I started sweating at mile 2, as that is way too early in the race to be perspiring. Nancy took off on her own and looked like she was feeling very comfortable for a 3:10. Ron was smart and realized it was too hot to push it, so he dropped back to run a controlled race. Matthew, Miles and I plugged away diligently on track for our goal. We chatted, voiced our concerns about the heat, and stayed very focused on the course at hand. I had been running with a plastic water bottle because I’ve become accustomed to carrying water on my training runs, and I didn’t want to fight the crowds at the water stops. After mile 3 or 4 I realized the water stops weren’t at all crowded, and the volunteers were a sea of hydrating efficiency. I tossed the bottle and hit every water stop from then on out. I remembered to take a gel around mile 6, though I was starting to feel warm and the Gu wasn’t very appetizing.

Mile 8 cracked me up when we came through Boy’s Town. I don’t remember much about the course, but it’s hard to miss the guys in drag on stage singing “Grease Lightning” and the Pride Drill Team spinning their rifles. Everyone was partying in Boy’s Town, that’s for sure. I was still feeling ok at this point, not great, but not horrible. I felt like I would at least be able to hold the pace for 18 miles, and hopefully claw my way to the 3:10. Something happened around 10 though, and I started feeling less than stellar. I was getting light headed on and off, and the effort became substantial. I took another Gu hoping that would help, but I still felt pretty rough. I stuck with Matthew and Miles until 12.5 or so, and still made it through the halfway point right at 1:35. I knew deep down that my body could not do what I was asking of it. I held on as long as I could, but by 15 I was cooked. I started getting light-headed again, and I felt goose bumps on my arms (which is NOT normal if it’s over 70 degrees out). One second I was on track for a 3:10, and the next I was dialing back my pace as much as possible.

I was pretty upset that I had failed at my race (even though it was long from over). I started thinking that everyone was right, I ruined my training by running too long and too slow, and running too many races. I was sad to realize that I won’t be able to run races frequently and I can’t get any faster if I’m trying to train for something like a 50 miler. I gave myself a few minutes to mope, and then I immediately started scheming. I knew there was a 50k in Ohio in 2 weeks, so if I REALLY slowed down my legs should be ok for another race. If I can’t run a 3:10, there is absolutely no reason to kill myself finishing as fast as possible. I realize this sounds like I was giving up, but if I can’t set a PR there’s no reason to be racing. Period. I wanted to have a quick recovery, and to do this I would need to cause minimal damage during the last 9 miles of the race.

I let people pass me, and suddenly I realized I had been running in a pack of mostly all men. There weren’t any chicks around, anywhere. It felt good to think I was running in BQ land for the young guys. Anyways, with that now over I focused on slowing down, though again…no watch! I didn’t have any idea what pace I was running, but I wanted to make sure it was at least as slow as an 8:00/mile. Girls started passing me in torrents, and a little part of my ego died with each passing pigtail and skirt. At one point a girl with shorts so short that her butt cheeks were hanging WAY out tried to pass me, but after a look at her thong-shorts I couldn’t stand to run behind her. I passed her and never saw her butt again (literally).

The miles ticked by and I don’t remember much. I know that I was only annoyed by the screaming crowd a few times, mostly when I started to get dizzy and the shrill screams and cow bells further compounded my headache. The water stops broke out some hoses once the sun really started beating down, and I enjoyed running through the spray every mile or so. They also had kiddie pools filled with soaking sponges, and passed them out to runners. It was obvious that the fiasco in 2008 when they ran out of water and had to cancel the race would not happen again.

Miles 20-26 are a complete blur. My legs felt fine at the easy pace, and I was breathing easily through my nose. I still got dizzy on occasion, and did start to feel tired. I was so ready to be done with the race. I was ecstatic to finally see the finish line and face the thousands of fans screaming on the side of the road. I realized if I ran straight down the middle I wouldn’t hear any of the stupid “You’re almost there! Sprint it in!” comments that marathoners so LOATHE to hear. I crossed the finish line and quickly made my way through the chute, collecting my medal and a barrage of food items. Only once I sat down on the grass by the bag check, did I realize I had no idea what my finish time was. I calculated it must’ve been a 3:26, though later someone checked the results for me and pointed out it was a 3:24 something. I’m surprised I ran even that “fast”, because it felt like I was running 9:00 miles at the end.

Perhaps the most enjoyable part of the day was sitting at the finish area with Chris and Matt, waiting for Stevi to finish her first marathon. The race conditions were elevated to a “red alert” status, which meant it was way too hot to be out on the course. Everyone finishing past the 4 hour mark walked through the finish area with a bag of ice on their head. The temps were in the mid 80s, yet another bad year at the Chicago marathon. We also discovered that perhaps due to the insane amount of people at the finish line trying to use phones, none of us could use our cell phones. This was a disaster after the race for runners trying to locate their families. It was so frustrating having a full signal, yet unable to place any calls.

Anyways, Chicago was a bust…but the year isn’t over yet!! At the airport while standing in line to go through security, I registered for the Stone Steps 50k on Oct. 24th in Cincinnati. I very much look forward to a silly adventure with Chris and Matt, who also had a crappy day in Chi-town (sorry boys). I am perfectly fine with what happened, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little disappointed.

Only 38 days until the JFK 50 Miler, so there’s no time to waste.

Odyssey Trail Running Rampage Marathon

2010-09-23T12:57:00.000-04:00

Sept. 18^th- Millboro, VA

I know, I know…I said I wasn’t racing again until after Chicago. BUT, I wasn’t really racing today. I had wanted to do a solid long trail run this weekend anyhow, and after hearing about this race it seemed like a perfect fit. After consulting many of my running friends the consensus was fairly well split between “You’re screwing your chances at Chi-town” and “sure, why the heck not?”. Normally I would agree that running a marathon 3 weeks before a scheduled marathon is a bad idea if the goal is to PR. Yet this year I found myself in a position where 26 miles is no longer very daunting to me (or my legs). I’ve already completed 7 marathons this year, some which were quite challenging (i.e. Leadville), and I’ve found that my recovery time is rapidly cutting down after each event. I’ve been hitting higher mileage in my training, and spending 4+ hours out on the trails on the weekend. For this reason, I felt confident that so long as I didn’t race the trail marathon, I would be fine to really push the pace in Chicago.

The Logistics: Worth mentioning because it was rather unconventional.

I signed up 3 days prior to the race knowing full well that I would be working until 10-10:30 pm on Friday night. The race was 3.5 hours away at a state park somewhere out west, so I either had to drive down after work or wake up at 2am. I was planning on sleeping in my car at the park, but Bryan had sense enough to talk me out of that idea. Luck would have it that 2 other runners from the area were also running the race and they offered me a bed in their hotel. I made it to the hotel shortly before 1am, and hit the pillow hard. Because the hotel was still 1.5 hours from the start, I was up at 5:30 to get on the roll. The night clerk at the front desk was nice enough to let me in early for the continental breakfast, so for the first time in many marathons, I had my bagel TOASTED. Oh yes, this is a big deal. Big enough, in fact, to mention in a blog. The hotel also served the same packets of peanut butter I ate in boot camp, but that might not warrant mention (too late).

The drive to the start was absolutely beautiful. The sun was slowly waking in the horizon with about as much exuberance as I feel on Monday mornings. As I passed through the mountains in Shenandoah there was a gently mist trickling through the valley, and I thought of the old classic song “Shenandoah” with the beautiful tenor medley. I think the song must’ve been composed at sunrise, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything so serene.

The Race:

I pull in to the state park and find the start area. The thermostat on my car reads 47 degrees. Hmmm…should’ve thought this one through. I was freezing in my shorts and Boston jacket. And let me tell you, nothing says “shmuck” more than someone who shows up to a trail race wearing a Boston Marathon jacket. Sadly, I didn’t have any other options.

Registration/HQ

As I went to pick up my bib I was amused to hear blue grass playing over the speakers and runners sleepily unzipping their tents and stumbling out to put their shoes on. I immediately decide that I’m coming back next year with my tent to really get the full experience. We gathered around for a pre-race brief shortly before the start, and I am impressed by how fit most people look. This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill marathon with a large population of runners sporting the beer gut and donut butts. These people all looked like they could be runners. There were somewhere around 30ish runners there for the marathon. A bigger group had started 1.5 hours earlier to do 40 miles, and an even larger group would be starting 1.5 hours later to do the half marathon.

Lodging, start, and finish

I made a last minute decision to use my handheld instead of the camelbak, and stuffed my pockets with a couple of Gu’s. It was a 13.4mi loop course, so we’d be able to grab what we needed before our 2^nd trip out.

Course Profile:

13.4 loop, run twice

We huddled around the start, but it was like an awkward first day of school where none of the kids wanted to be the first on the bus. Everyone stayed a good 10 feet back behind the line and showed no ambition for hoping to win the race. The horn went off at 8:30 and we all made our way in a small pack through the woods. I was running with Jeff, one of the runners I stayed with at the hotel, and we chatted about the various races we’ve done.

(Jeff)

All the other runners were very quiet as we toed our way over the first few rock strewn portions and started the long, slow climb. The course profile showed the first 3 miles to be completely up hill, and I was fairly certain I’d be walking a lot of it. I found the grades to be not terribly steep, but it was just so long it was hard to maintain a running pace for very long. I ended up running until my breathing was labored, then I would slow to a walk. There were footsteps behind me, which I assumed belong to Jeff, but later realized it was a woman and I’d ditched Jeff in the first 2 miles. I am a terrible partner to run on trails with.

The woman and I ended up chatting most of the way up, discussing races and future plans. She (Diane- D) is a tri coach from Virginia Beach, and she looked pretty intense. She was a solid brick of muscle, and I was curious to see how she would do over the long course. Right at about 3 miles we had our first tease of a downhill, and it was a doozy. The grade was fine, but it was at a near 45 degree angle on the side of the mountain. I had a really hard time balancing myself while running with my shoulder canting hard to the right, yet still picking up my feet over the rocks and roots on the trail. Right as I’m coming out of this tricky single track, I start to go down. My heart races wildly as I brace for impact, but something strange happens…my new trail shoes seemingly have self-corrective balancing skills. I find myself still on my feet, but running with my arms stretched out somewhat like Batman. Had I tripped there, it could’ve easily wiped me out for the day.

I hear D come up behind me, and she commented on how tough that little section was and that she ended up running off trail on one of the switchbacks. We finally come in to the first aid station at mile 3.5 where the poor volunteers had to hike all of the water and supplies up for us. I skipped refilling my bottle with the thought that if everyone refills at that aid station, there won’t be anything left on the 2^nd loop.

Aid Station #1 (with a view)

D and I headed out of the aid station and start the beautiful trek down hill (err, down mountain?). The rocks aren’t bad enough to impact our stride, which is awesome. I had a nightmare flashback to Leadville where every step was sure to break an ankle. I fell in to stride behind her, and she asked if I wanted to pass. On any other day, I would have. Instead, I found myself comfortable keeping things dialed back. My legs really wanted to take off, but I kept telling them to save it for Chi-Town. We caught up to a really tall bald guy and stayed behind him as the miles ticked by. D and I chatted incessantly, and at one point the bald guy finally spoke up and said “I don’t know how you ladies have the energy to talk so much while you’re running a marathon”. We giggled a little and tried to talk less, which resulted in more giggling and more talking. Oh well, we tried.

let the good times roll! (as long as it's downhill)

I couldn’t believe how fast the miles ticked by coming downhill. Before we knew it we were up to 9, and the trail dumped out on to a nice, smooth, loose gravel road. It was also slightly downhill, and I could see the aid station up ahead. I allowed myself to pick it up a tad and push it in to the aid station. I was so happy and chatty I forgot I was supposed to hurry through and keep running. While I was cracking jokes with the aid station workers, D, Baldy, and another guy caught up to me and started filling their hydration packs. I realized my mistake because I was then stuck behind 3 camelbaks with only one cooler to fill, and I had a mere 20 oz bottle to top off. Dang it! I stood there and waited for everyone else to finish, and was the last person out of the aid station. I was mad at myself for not paying attention, and took off to catch the crew.

Aid station #2

It didn’t take too long to catch up, as we headed in to some uphill segments and they were walking a lot. I dropped in behind D, and she informed me we were following Baldy’s run/walk approach on the hills. I stuck with them for a couple of minutes, but I started to notice there were little hills for mountain bikers to jump over, and it was super fun to power through them.

I left D and Baldy behind, and coasted for the next 2 miles. I felt a little off…light headed or something. I realized I should probably take a Gu at some point, but I held out for my PB&J at the transition area. I started to catch up to other runners, one by one. I passed a young kid sporting a Mohawk wearing bright purple shorts, who was looking less than stellar. He was bending over the side of the trail heaving, and I offered him some water and stopped for a second to make sure he was at least going to survive. Before the race I overheard Mohawk talking to his goons (more young guys with a funny choice in clothing/hair styles) and he had said it was going to be tough for a first marathon, but he should be able to run a 3:30. I knew this was a horrible idea, as the men’s course record was a 3:5X. Sure enough, he was hurting.

More beautiful views...

After leaving Mohawk I caught up to another young guy who looked to be in pretty good shape. I joked that I’d see him when he caught me on the uphill, but that never happened. As I was rounding out the last mile on the first loop, I saw a guy barely off the trail peeing in the woods. There’s no way I’m going to stop running to let this guy finish his business, so I run by and yell “not looking!!”. He cursed, laughed, and apologized as he caught back up to me. I did most of the talking, and he did a great job of laughing at all of my super hilarious jokes. I noticed he was taking it really slow on the downhill though, and I opted to leave him behind. He was really strong on the climbs, but for some reason was pretty weak on the downhill.

I came in to the finish/transition area, and everyone cheered me on. They said I was the first woman and in the top 3 overall. I didn’t realize there were so few people ahead of me! Must be a slow day. I grab my PB&J, put my camera away, and head off. D & Baldy are coming in to the aid station as I’m leaving, so we swap encouraging cheers to one another (though Baldy didn’t say anything, he still wasn’t much of a talker).

The 2 young guys I had recently passed caught up to me in the transition area, so we started the 2^nd climb together. Young guy #1 fell back, while young guy #2 (the pisser) set the pace up the hills. I soon fell back as my legs started protesting the climb. I didn’t think D would catch up to me, as she was bound to be suffering as much as me the 2^nd time around. The pisser was long gone, and I was left to struggle on my own for the next 2.5 miles. I started to think I ran too much on the climbs the first time around, as this time it was insanely hard. I then realized my electrolyte level was probably pretty bad, since I’d downed around 60 oz of water and had taken no salt tabs or Gu. Oops…

Up, up, up we go

I finally make it to the canted downhill portion that tripped me up last time, and went really slow to make sure my footing was ok. I made it safely in to the aid station, and greedily filled my handheld this time around. They had a plate of salt sitting on top, and I found myself dipping my finger in to get a little salt. I’d read about ultra runners eating packets of salt, but I never fathomed that I might be in this situation myself. It tasted awful, but I washed it down and headed out to tackle the rest of the course. I knew the hardest part was over, all I had to do was cruise to the finish. D came in to the aid station as I was on my way out, and I was amazed she was so close behind me. I don’t know why I was surprised though, I wasn’t going at break neck paces. I take off downhill and my legs immediately feel normal again. I’m having way too much fun hopping over rocks and all but skipping down the side of the mountain. D catches up to me before long, and I realize her massively muscular legs are no joke. We run together for about 2 miles again, though there’s less chatter this time around. I started to feel hot spots on the inside of my heels on both feet. Crap. The downhill was tearing my feet up.

Coach Diane

D falls back a little and I allow myself to pick up the pace. I catch up to the pisser, as he’s doing a terrible job of navigating the downhill sections. Low and behold, it’s his first trail race ever. No wonder. I’m no trail savant, but it took me a couple of tries to gain confidence with the downhill stuff. I leave him behind to pick his way carefully over the rocks, and head off on my own again.

I started feeling a little light headed again, and though perhaps it would be a brilliant time to take a Gu. A half of a PB&J and one Gu probably wasn’t enough for a long trail run, and I chided myself for not paying attention to fueling. Soon enough I hear footsteps behind me, and D has caught back up. I was super impressed with her stamina. She didn’t look tired at all. We hit the gravel again and I let it loose, but she passed me when I stopped to fill up at the aid station. It took me a little while longer to catch her this time around, but eventually on more of the uphill terrain she started walking more. As I passed her she picked the pace up and did a pretty good job of keeping up with me.

Soon I saw the 20 mile marker and decided it was time to have some fun. I let the hammer drop hard and pushed it in. I figured a final 10k kick was a great way to end a “training run”, I just hoped I hadn’t worked too hard the first 20 miles. Much to my surprise, the legs responded to what I was asking of them and off we went. I lost D pretty quickly and started picking off the half marathoners who had started at some point before we started our second loop. I saw a woman go down, and I stopped to help her up and make sure she was ok. It’s such an awkward thing to do, you never know if you should move on after you’ve helped them or stick around for a while. She seemed ok, so I took off. Now things really started getting fun. I was picking off the half marathoners left and right. For the most part, everyone was nice about moving off the trail so I could pass.

Around mile 23 I start to get excited about how good I’m feeling. I’m lost in my thoughts, and I suddenly hear a crashing sound through the woods. I hear a guy shouting frantically, and the ever-so-familiar sound of a large animal boring through the woods. I know it’s a dog, and he’s running away from his owner. Right when the crashing gets really loud and I can hear the panting, I turn around and am plowed over by a very, very excited Chesapeake Bay Retriever. To his credit, he tried to stop before hitting me but the poor guy was running downhill. We both went down gently, and he gave my face a good lick before bounding back to his owner, who was still nowhere in sight. I was more amused than anything by my encounter, and since neither of us was hurt in the incident I laughed it off. I’m just glad it happened to me and not to a runner who was afraid of dogs.

Lakeside trail

I really started to appreciate the loop factor in this run. I knew when the hills were coming, and I had a sense of confidence the second time around. I turned a bend around a lake that was all too tempting to jump in to, and knew that I was close to the finish. All I had to do was push it up one more climb, and then coast back down on the other side. I passed more half marathoners who were walking up the hill, and then let it rip when I passed over the peak of the hill. Because of all the hairpin turns, it was impossible to see very far ahead. I was rewarded by this when I came out of the woods and saw the finish line was less than 100m away. There were 2 guys just ahead of me who were finishing the half marathon, and I did my best to thrown down a strong final kick. I’ve always sucked at sprinting, and just about any guy can out run me for 100m or less. I passed one of the guys without a problem, but the 2^nd guy put up a fight. He looked at me bib and asked what race I was running, and when I said “the marathon” he immediately backed off and let me finish ahead of him.

I came through the finish line and there were loud cheers by all of the people hanging around. The race director came over and shook my hand, excited to have a new course record for the female marathon. I immediately tear my shoes and socks off, and am horrified to see a giant blood blister on the inside of my right foot. I see the outline of a blister on my left foot, though it’s less minor than its counterpart.

I limp around the finish line area cheering D as she comes in, and head over to my gear to pound down my Gatorade recovery drink. I’m surprised that my legs aren’t pounding in the least, and I don’t feel tight or sore. If my feet were in better shape, I would be walking around without the slightest trace of a limp.

I hung out by the finish area for a couple of hours, talking to runners and just relaxing in the sunshine. I saw Mohawk come in at about the 6 hour mark, and I laughed when I overheard him talking to his goons. He told them he got really lost and went MILES off trail, and it took him 2 hours to find his way back. He’d have been much faster if they had marked the course better. There’s no WAY anyone got lost for 2 hours on that course, and he somehow neglected to tell his friends that he was near puking only 11 miles in to the race. What a schmuck.

Overall, this race was awesome. I can’t wait to run it again next year. I don’t know if I’ll be running the marathon or the 40 miler, but I look forward to spending some time in the woods again.

Results:

Finish time: 4:22:06 (new female record by 37 minutes)

Overall: 2^nd (out of 31)

Gender: 1^st (out of 9)

It’s a shame this race is so small, but maybe that’s the beauty of it. I’m hoping to get a group together to camp out next year, there’s a lot of potential for a really great weekend.

H.U.R.T. 22 Miler Trail Series Race

2010-08-19T13:03:00.000-04:00

August 14th, 2010. Oahu, Hawaii.

I know, I know...I'm supposed to be on hiatus from racing until Chicago. BUT, when opportunity comes a knocking, I'm ripe and ready to go. Bryan and I were in Hawaii celebrating our 5 year anniversary, and by the end of the trip we were both itching to get in some good training. We had an amazing time combing the beaches, snorkeling, hiking, eating great food (maybe a little drinking...), but knew we needed at least one good workout before we headed back home. Bryan called around to a local MMA gym and found a training class on Saturday morning, which meant I needed to find a running group to get in a good long run.

On Friday I called around to a few running stores which yielded no results, but when I called the Kailua Running Company a very helpful employee pointed me towards the H.U.R.T. 22 mile trail race taking place the following day. I was ecstatic, completely hyped up about the chance to not only get in a little race, but a TRAIL race. In spite of my recent sun burn, we spent Friday afternoon swimming and relaxing on Kailua. I drank almost no water, and completely dehydrated myself in the sun. Can you blame me though?

We had a great dinner with our gracious hosts after the beach, and I carbo-loaded on some yummy tropical cocktails. I started getting my stuff ready at 10pm, and was done at 10:02pm when I realized I didn't have anything to "get ready". Nice.

Saturday morning Bryan and I rushed out of the house to find our way to the starting area. Since we didn't know the area at all, we gave ourselves plenty of time. We pulled up to the registration area, and this is why I'm starting to love trail races...you show up, give someone money, and you're ready to go.

I gave my $10 and filled out the "registration form", which consisted of writing my name, age, and gender on a slip of paper. I find out that this race gives age-based handicap to the runners, and the registrar informs me that I'm going to be the very last female to start the race. They follow the guidelines the famous Dipsea race in San Francisco uses, which means there is no clock and the winner is the first person who crosses the line. Usually this kind of race favors older women and really old men. As I begin to process the reality that I'll be starting over 30 minutes behind the first woman, I'm being drawn on by a woman with a marker who has the job of perma-marking our bib numbers on our leg. We looked like triathletes with all of the marked numbers on our legs.

I seriously had to pee by this point, and since I had a solid hour before it was my turn to start, Bryan and I headed out to find a restroom. There was a McDonald's a few miles down the road, mission accomplished, back to the starting point.

The view was just spectacular on the Pali lookout, it gave me high hopes for the rest of the race. the clouds were dark and it felt like it was going to rain, but thankfully it never did.

The organizers called everyone over for a pre-race brief, which consisted of "drink water, watch your step, and the first person to cross the finish line wins". They gave the oldest man and woman a stuffed pink pig that had to be carried on the course (since they would be the first to start). When someone passed the pig, they would take it with them. The person with the pig would always be in 1st place.

They didn't mention anything about the trail, so I asked if it was marked. Everyone turned and looked at me in astonishment as if I were an idiot or an alien. I explained that I was only here visiting and I'm not familiar with the trail. I was told the trail was not marked, but they spewed out a few directions (turn right at the 1st fork, etc..). Yeah, right...how on earth am I going to remember that? They did say that there are a few trails marked in blue, and not to follow the blue.

As we all stood around, the first group of women started off. They had the runners walk up this little hill, and then they had to run back down to begin the official course. It was kind of quirky but everyone seemed to enjoy it. I watched as another group of women were released, and saw a formidable middle-aged woman with rock hard abs, serious legs, and braided pig tails to top it off. I think to myself, there's no way I'm catching her. Her legs were long and lean and had a mad kick down the hill.

A few of the guys talked to me while we were waiting, they were curious about this out-of-towner who just showed up for a race. Everyone was really nice and very helpful trying to give me pointers. One of the guys who was running was one of the HURT 100 organizers, so we chatted about that for a bit. They just had the lottery for the 100 the weekend before, and he seemed very proud about the diversity of runners who were registered. He asked if I did 100 milers, and I just laughed and said I've never even done a 50 miler. While we're chatting, the guy responsible for getting everyone started in their age-appropriate groups looks at me and says "hey! You should've gone by now!" I was a little annoyed at this because he never called my group (I was "R", the last letter he called was "L"). He apologized and sent me on my way. Instead of the big "hurrah" everyone starts off with, I'm a flurry of arms and legs as I try to at least catch up with group L (they started about 2 minutes before me).

The first 1.5 miles is completely down hill. The first mile is on asphalt, so I could really fly.

I saw a blond ponytail ahead of me and made it my mission to catch her. She didn't look like a strong runner, but boy was I wrong. My stupid sub 7 descent allowed me to catch her, but when she heard me coming she picked it up a notch. Soon we were passing the other women and skirting our way around the narrow trail. As we made our way in to the woods, I immediately realized how complicated the trail was going to be. I wasn't worried about steep hills, but we were essentially on the side of a mountain making our way down the side. The trail was very narrow with a steep cliff to the side. I find myself falling back from the blond, and I'm amazed as her feet skip over the roots and rocks as if she's been doing it all her life. Crap. I'm out of this race.

I'm starting to feel like crap after 2 miles. I slow wayyy down, and take my time passing people. I realize I'm definitely dehydrated from all of the beaching (and drinking), and shouldn't press my luck on the trail. I dedicate the first half of the run to careful stepping and just taking in the scenery...you know, the scenic view of my feet hopping over roots and rocks. The trail is completely shaded by the overgrowth, as Bryan said later "It's all LOSTy up in there".

I force myself to drink a lot from my camelbak, I knew it was going to be my best friend for the day. I'm so glad I threw it in my suitcase last minute...If only I had packed my trail shoes I'd be all set.

Around mile 5 I start to feel normal again, and pick up the pace a little. I'm still passing people, though I've caught just about everyone (save blond ponytail and pigtails). I don't know how far ahead they are, and I don't care. I'm too busy stumbling and catching myself before falling off the side of the mountain. The deeper in the woods we go, the more slippery the rocks become. The ground is so slick with wet leaves and brush, I have a very hard time finding traction in my road shoes.

I'm watching my footing very carefully as the rocks covered with that green algae looking stuff is as slippery as a bar of soap. The downhill is almost worse than the uphill because I'm afraid of wiping out. At one point, I'm concentrating on the ground so intently that I fail to notice a giant tree branch hanging over the path. Whack! I run right in to it. My poor head is throbbing, I feel a lump instantly forming on the side of my head. I let out a yelp and I'm sad that no one's around to sympathize. Maybe it's better this way...they would probably just laugh. I'm now paranoid about the tree branches, so I try running with my hand over my head. It doesn't take long to realize that this was a silly idea. Not long after the tree branch incident I take a fall and land dangerously close to the drop-off. Had a tree not been there, I probably would've fallen over. There were so many shrubs around the side of the path you couldn't even see the ledge, but you know it's there.

I see an older guy up ahead and I catch up to him on an uphill climb. He's walking, I'm not. I decided the race was too short to walk the climbs, unless they were really steep. I try to tell him about hitting my head on the tree, but he doesn't seem to care. So much for making friends on the trail. On 2nd thought...maybe it was insulting to try to talk to someone while you're passing them on the uphill? Hmm.

After this guy, I don't see anyone for a couple more miles. No other incidents, but I just know that I'm going to bite it at any time. As I'm nearing the halfway point, the first male catches up to me. He was seriously flying on the trail. The first place male was still ahead of him, but he'd track him down in no time. The last mile before the aid station was a steep downhill on a safe, dirt road. I'm happy for the break from the slick rocks and roots.

I see pig tails coming towards me, which means she'd already made it to the halfway point. I was very surprised to see her walking uphill, she looked like a strong enough runner to book it the whole way back. Hmmm. I yell "go piggy!" since she's in 1st and has the pig, though she didn't really pay any attention to me. The 2nd place female isn't far behind her, and she's actually running so I cheer her on. She seems unconcerned with 1st place, though I'm pretty sure she'll catch her. I then see blond ponytail who is also walking uphill. She cheers me on and seems like a genuinely nice girl.

I hear faint cheering in the distance and realize I'm very close to the turnaround. There is also a relay option at this race, so the people at the turnaround are waiting for their partner to make it in so they can run the 2nd leg. When I made it to the aid station (which consisted of water, gatorade, soda, and chips) there was a very awkward moment when they all realized they had no idea who I am. At this moment I realized how very small the trail community really is. I drink some gatorade and take off, dreading the long uphill climb.

I now understand why the other gals were walking...that was a tough climb. I ran most of it, but knew that it probably wasn't smart. Since this was a training race, I figured it was a good time to be exhausted. I caught blond ponytail halfway up the hill. We exchanged a few friendly words, but I kept running. Some really fast relay guys flew up the hill and passed me, but I could care less. They were on fresh legs!

I'm starting to encounter a lot of other runners heading towards the turn around, and everyone was really nice. Most people were running in pairs or in groups, and I was a little jealous of the company. I'm lost in my thoughts when I make my first wrong-turn. A guy follows me down the wrong trail, and after a few minutes we decide this can't possibly be right (there was a steep spot with a rope you had to climb up), so we turned around and found the actual path. I felt bad that the other guy got turned around because of me, but there were no flipping markers!!! Ah!!

I don't fret about making up time, this is hardly a do-or-die race. Blond ponytail had passed me while I was on my little detour. When I caught back up to her I explained that I went off trail. She said "Hey, it's secret training!". I think I could be friends with this chick.

Soon I'm on my own again, and thing are complicated as the runners who are still heading to the turnaround have to get by me on the skinny trail. Everyone was very courteous and we all did well stepping to the side of the trail without falling off the mountain. I was thankful when the sweeper passed, which meant there weren't any more runners heading in my direction.

One of many great views

And now begins Amy's epic tripping adventure. I fell at least 10 times in the last 8 miles of the race. It wasn't pretty, and I got really banged up. I know most people trip when they're tired, but I really didn't feel tired at all. I was taking it slow and was breathing easy. I always have problems in my road shoes when I'm on the trails, so I think it was a combination of not picking up my feet enough and having clumsy shoes (ok...maybe clumsy feet too). I had one really bad fall on my hip, which landed on a big rock. I gave myself a dead leg by falling on the rock, so I couldn't use my leg for what felt like an eternity (was probably only a minute or so). By now I was insanely frustrated. I had tears in my eyes and my body was starting to hurt everywhere from the scratches and bruises. Not long after recovering from the last blow, I had another rough fall.

I was so pissed I took a picture of the root I tripped over (yeah, I know...it's huge- how'd I miss it?)

I was so angry at everything...myself, my feet, my shoes, the race director...the list goes on. I just wanted to be done with the race. It wasn't fun anymore. I started walking over spots that looked like a death trap for my feet, and managed to not fall while walking.

Camelbak & I, friends for life

I ran out of water finally, but since the shade was nice and cool I wasn't worried about thirst. I still had 3 miles to go, but it wasn't daunting. I was thrilled to see a guy standing with gallon jugs of water under a tree with less than 2 miles to the finish. I was even more thrilled when he spoke with a deep Australian accent. G'day mate! Looking great! You must be Amy...Wes told me to say hello!...Somehow my friend Wes who was picking me up from the race managed to tell this guy to cheer me on, which made me smile. He held the jug up while I drank, and cheered me on as I headed off towards the finish. Only I made a slight detour before I made it out of the clearing...I really hope they mark the trail next time (not that I'll be there anyways).

Oh, how green it is!

Remember that first 1.5 miles that was downhill? Boooo....time to run up it! At least it was asphalt, I've never been so happy to be on pavement in my life. I was passed by a couple of guys in this last stretch, though all but 1 were relay runners. I start to walk, it was getting way to steep to be a comfortable climb. Plus, I was out of the shade and the sun was starting to feel hot. I did a run/walk combo until I saw pigtails up ahead. No way! I thought, screw this...and started running. We had a good .5+ to go (uphill), but I figured I could take her. Sure enough I passed her as she was walking, and I just kept going. I expected her to fight me for it but she just kept walking. Not wanting to risk her catching up to me, I forced my legs to run the rest of the way up. I came in to the clearing and was so excited to be done. I felt like I could've run a few more miles, but I had no desire to take any more falls.

The finish line was even less spectacular than the start, so much that I didn't even know where to finish. I started to veer right and they shouted "left!", so I ran left. Then someone said "STOP RUNNING!". Oh. I'm done.

Wes came over and was super excited for my 2nd place finish. She had all of my post-race stuff with her, which was a huge help. The race director came over to congratulate me and gave me a pair of Nathan arm-warmers. Sweet! I actually need a pair for the fall.

As I inspect my injuries I decide I'm not too bad, though I expect to be sore for a while. A few people sat and chatted with me for a bit, which was awesome. There was a ton of food spread out on some tables, but I wasn't ready to eat. Wes and I sat on the grass and soaked in the experience while enjoying a beautiful Aloha day.

Post race: Holy crap I'm sore! I've never felt this beat up after a race...at least, none that I can remember. I'll be spending a lot of time Endurasoak-ing.

San Francisco Marathon

2010-07-27T23:56:00.000-04:00

7/25/2010

Disclaimer: In spite of running with my camera for the entire race, there are no good pictures. It was way too foggy with poor lighting. Unfortunately you are all stuck with a few crappy shots and a typically long report.

Today I earned the title “Assistant to the assistant pacer” at the San Francisco marathon. I ran with my friend Jim, who was a co-pacer for the 3:50 group. Having run the Leadville trail marathon 3 weeks ago, this race was all about the city and experiencing a new race. I’ve always loved northern California, and this was on my “bucket list” of marathons (that bucket, by the way, seems to be bottomless).

Since this race wasn’t as monumental for me as Leadville or North Face, I compiled a lost of pros/cons for the SF Marathon (instead of making you read a long-winded report, though that report still exists for the most die-hard of race report fans). If any of you have been thinking about running it, hopefully this will give you a little more insight to the race.

Pros:

San Francisco is a fun city and a great place to visit.
Start line was easily accessible.
Starting area wasn’t crowded thanks to the staggered waves. Very short port-a-potty lines!
Course had a great variety of scenery to include the waterfront, Golden Gate bridge, the Presidio, and the famous cityscape.
Perfect weather.
Plenty of pace groups.
Plenty of water stops.
Race security was a local bike (motorcycle) crew… that was fun.
Very minimal spectator support…i.e. no screaming fans and cow bells (could be a con if you’re in to that sort of thing).
Finish area wasn’t too crazy, bag pickup was a breeze. All kinds of fun snacks to munch on after, including fresh Jamba Juice smoothies.

Cons:

First half was really, really crowded. Had I started in wave 2 like I was supposed to, it might have been better. I haven’t run that far back in the pack in a while, so I’m not sure how it stacks up with other races.
Pretty difficult course for a PR. Much, much hillier than Boston, with way more uphill.
Poor volunteer support (experience?). Complete chaos Not enough volunteers to actually hand out the water at a few of the stops, so everyone would stop to grab a cup off the table at the very beginning of the aid station. Probably on-par for the worst aid stations I’ve ever seen.
Confusing course, route actually changed while running to accommodate traffic flow. I did not have a problem with this as I’m a big advocate of following the person in front of me, but a few people ended up being misdirected down the wrong street and having to turn around. Sort of a major snafu for such a major race.
Too foggy to get any good pictures :(

Review: I wouldn’t recommend this race as a PR effort unless you live in San Francisco-like hills, though it’s a fun run if you can ignore your watch and just enjoy the city. San Francisco is such a great place to visit, if you can stick around for a few days it’s totally worth it.

The trip got off to a rough start. Saturday morning I woke up to realize it was entirely too bright outside for my 5:00 alarm. Sure enough, it was 6:30 and my flight was scheduled to depart at 7:40. Errr, yeah….panic ensued. Bryan did an amazing job of keeping me calm and getting me to the airport with minutes to spare. I heard my name being called through the terminal and rushed to the gate. I made it! Yippee!

I met up with Angie at the hotel and we made our way to the expo. I think they intentionally put the expo in a TINY venue so it would feel like it was really big. The expo was every bit as crowded, maybe even more so, than some of the bigger races I’ve done. We got the heck out of dodge and made our way back to the hotel to relax a little. I was running off of 5 hours of sleep, AND I was on east coast time. Angie had the great idea to hang out at the hotel “lounge” (which is a fancy word for bar in this sense). We had a glass of wine, and then another….before we knew it we had to high tail it to dinner where we were meeting other “virtual runner friends” and their families. We had a great dinner with Jim and his wife, and James plus his three lovely ladies (calm down, 2 are his daughters). I was cajoled in to another glass of wine, though I wasn’t terribly reluctant about it because this was a fun marathon after all.

After dinner we headed back to the hotel room. I was counting down the minutes until my head would finally hit the pillow. Angie was sweet enough to french-braid pigtails for me. My hair turns in to a raging bird’s nest by the end of long runs, and it takes forever to get the knots out. I was in bed at 10:00 for a 4:15 wakeup. 6 hours of sleep is plenty the night before a marathon, who actually sleeps well anyways?

Race morning I woke up an hourish before the start. I quickly got ready, ate a bagel (non-toasted, mind you), and walked the 10 blocks to the start. I cannot express how amazing it is to be able to WALK to the starting line. It was a bit chilly out, something like 55 degrees and balmy. Perfect weather to run a marathon!

At the start I basically stumbled in to James, who was looking as chipper and cheerful as ever. We found Jim, who due to his pacing status had access to the “VIP area with bagels and coffee. James didn’t have anything to eat, again, and convinced Jim to swipe him a VIP bagel. I think part of the reason why I’m so fond of James is because he is so carefree about everything he does, to include trying to set a PR on a crazy hilly marathon. Anyways, on to the start…

First I should mention that I had no problems with port-a-potty lines. I think the way they stagger the start times is actually quite genius for logistical purposed. Instead of 20,000 people swarming to the start, they have a new wave going off every 10 minutes. That means the slower marathoners may start an HOUR after the first wave. It really helped with congestion and kept the starting line pretty manageable.

I found Jim with his 3:50 pacer sign, and we waited around for our 23 minute delayed start (we were wave 4). I was a little annoyed by a 5:30 starting time, thinking that was entirely too early for a race, but it worked out great being so close. Thanks to the un-congested starting area, you really didn’t need to be there any earlier than 15 minutes before your wave went off. Which brings me back to my story….

I shed my long sleeved t-shirt right before the countdown began. I should mention that I have been trying in earnest to get rid of this shirt for about 4 years. Every time I do a race, it somehow ends up with me. Either I decide not to wear it, or someone “saves” it for me after the race (in spite of my pleading to let it go). I considered this a successful shedding experience when it did not return to me at the finish.

Our wave started and suddenly I found myself running another marathon. My first thought when I’m running is always “I wonder if this is going to hurt….”. My second thought was “holy crap this is a lot of people”. I was surprised that there was so much congestion for the first couple of miles. I had a terrible time trying to keep up with Jim, who was dutifully plugging away at the necessary pace. People were weaving in and out, walking, doing all of the horribly obnoxious things that people seem to do in a race. I think a lot of the problem was that the half marathoners were starting with the full runners, and it added a few thousand more people on the course. I can’t even imagine how awful it would’ve been without the staggered wave.

We had a pretty good group of people running with us, though we didn’t have too much chatter going on. I was looking around anxiously for good places to take pictures, but it was soooo foggy nothing would turn out. Bummer L Race reports are so much more fun with pictures. Anywhoo…

Coming up on mile 4ish or so we hit the first big hill. This was definitely a hill. Everyone stopped talking as we started our ascent, and the sounds of labored breathing reflected the challenge. I was very impressed with the San Franciscans (or wherever the other runners were from) because very few people walked. It was the kind of hill where you’d expect a LOT of runners to be walking. Not so in this city!

After the hill we wound our way through a park, where I was completely astounded to see runners cutting across the grass for a little short-cut. At one point, a girl who cut across the grass hopped on the road next to me, and I said with all of the sarcasm I could muster: “Nice shortcut…”. She said “I know, Right??!!”. Ummm, no. Not right. Anyways, I was soon forced to hop on the grass myself because the sprinklers came on and drenched the path we were on. Not wanting to get my camera wet I had to run around.

After a bit we made our way to the Golden Gate Bridge, which was more the Covered in Fog and Haze Bridge at this point. Typical.

After the last hill we came up, the bridge really wasn’t a challenge. We had some issues with crowd control as the lane was very narrow, but we managed to go over and back in mostly one piece. We did have a casualty who tripped, and it was a miracle it wasn’t me. It was pretty chilly on the bridge, and I envied those with multiple layers. I definitely should’ve worn arm-warmers.

At some point approaching the bridge, Jim realized he had fudged his Garmin and didn’t have the accurate time/distance. He then realized he fudged his Timex, so he had no clue what we were doing. Oh Jim…I gave him my watch, and instructed him not to push any buttons this time. The 3^rd watch did the trick, and he did a great job of pacing over the hills and on the flat/downhill portions. I could never pace like that…we were shooting for an 8:43 average, but nary a mile was flat enough to really hit that exact pace. We were either going much faster or much slower, but somehow it came out perfect.

Eventually we wound our way in to a park of some sort where the half runners would finally branch off. I was confused and amused when I looked over and saw a random group of bison just chilling in the park. Oh San Franny, you can be so silly sometimes. I thought of my husband, Bryan, who is like a little kid when we drive through the country. Every time we see cows that aren’t spotted he’ll yell “Bison!!!!”. Well babe, I finally found your bison.

The park was a little challenging because it seemed like a never-ending uphill climb. It wasn’t steep or anything, but it was a little annoying. Mind you my pace was completely comfortable and I had no trouble on the hills, but I really felt for the people in our group who were desperately going for a PR. This was NOT a PR course (later James proved me wrong). Really though, it was rough. Way harder than Boston. Heck, Boston is cake compared to this. Well, maybe half-cake.

We finally came out of the park at mile 19 or 20, can’t quite remember. Our group did a great job of making it through the dreaded “wall” danger-zone. We were all chatting quite amicably by now, as if we suddenly realized we’d been running with the same group of people for nearly 3 hours. Unfortunately shortly after this, there were a couple more big hills that took out the majority of our group. Jim kept the pace perfect, but they were steep enough to where if you were tired, you were probably going to slow down a little too much.

After mile 24 we lost everyone. A couple of guys ran ahead, but most of them fell back. I was sad to see people struggling, but I suppose that happens. I honestly think the people who were going for a 3:50 probably should’ve gone for a 4:00 on this course. If you don’t live in these hills, it’s probably going to get to you. I ended up running ahead for a bit with a guy, and we suddenly realized we were way ahead of the group. He stopped to walk, I slowly jogged along side. Eventually the almost non-existent group caught back up.

We finally passed mile 25, and then 26. Jim gave me the pacing sign to run through the finish, and I had fun chasing people with it and pretending like I was going to hit them on the head if they didn’t speed up. A couple of people did speed up, probably to get away from the crazy chick waving a sign at the back of their head. Jim was probably glad I didn’t take the sign before then, who knows what I would’ve done.

Jim and I crossed the finish line together, though he forgot to stop the watch so aren’t exactly sure of our time. 3:49:??. Perfect pacing, which I could not do if my life depended on it. The finish line chute was a breeze. Not too crowded, plenty of snacks and drinks. I scored a Jamba Juice smoothie (I know, right??!!) and some muscle milk. Jim and I finally parted ways so I could grab my stuff and get back to the hotel. It was pretty darn cold standing around in sweaty running gear. I walked the 10 blocks back to my hotel smiling to myself. This was my 7^th marathon of 2010, and I have been very blessed to run in some amazing places.

And yes, for those who know me well, I had a luxurious Endurasoak bath as soon as I walked in the door.

Leadville Trail Marathon

2010-07-04T01:40:00.000-04:00

Abstract version: heck of a race, beautiful scenery, finished in 5:18.

Long version (with a ton of pictures):
For reasons I cannot remember, I decided it would be fun to run the Leadville Trail Marathon in Colorado this summer. I love Colorado, and hope to live there some day soon...but that really is no reason to sign up for such a ridiculous race. Nevertheless, when I told my family that I planned on running it, everyone scurried out to Colorado to enjoy a week in the mountains with me before the race (have I mentioned I have an awesome, supportive family?).

Normally I try not to post too many pre-race details, but there were a few things going on which prevented me from feeling entirely confident the night before the race. In order of events.... On Wednesday, I fell hard on a boulder in a stream and sprained my wrist (I know, it's just a wrist...I don't run with it). I continued to hurt it by accidentally putting pressure on it, and I was stuck with an ace bandage and a lot of aspirin. On Thursday, I went hiking and rolled my ankle, which left me cringing every so often if I put weight on it the wrong way. On Friday, my family and I headed to Rocky Mountain National Park which resulted in sitting 9 hours in the car, and dealing with a nasty stomach bug of some kind. Errr, we'll call it serious GI distress. Everyone knew my wrist hurt (duh), but I didn't mention my ankle because I didn't want anyone fretting over it...there was nothing to be done. I just had to hope and pray it healed. The stomach issues though were a serious problem. I drank 6 (20oz) bottles of water and didn't have to pee at all, thanks to being completed dehydrated. I was exhausted and felt horrible, a long day in the car not helping any. I finally managed to eat a legit pasta dinner and drink 32 oz of gatorade, which did not stay in my stomach for very long. I went to bed thinking that Saturday was going to be completely up in the air.

Saturday morning (race day): First things first, check the wrist....good!!! Not completely healed, but I don't think I need to wear the ace bandage...which means I can use my handheld instead of the camelback! Sweet. Ankle test: stand on bad foot for 5 seconds; fail. Bummer. I could tolerate it for about 3 seconds before it really started to hurt. At least it isn't sprained or anything. I down some pb&j on a bagel, and find myself rushing to the bathroom. DANG IT! I've never had tummy issues in a race, I really didn't want to start today. I just have to hope it calms down eventually.

Mommy drove me to the start of the race, which was less than 45 minutes away (35, the way my mom drives in the mountains!). I'm so thankful for her serious crewing abilities, she's always on the ball. I picked up my registration from the gym, hit the bathroom again (not good), headed to a grocery store to get a banana (which I forgot to pack), had to use the bathroom again (still not good), decided I couldn't stomach the banana, opted for some G2 instead. Headed to the starting line and waited in the longest porta-potty line ever for another shot at the bathroom (still bad news there). Alright, enough about going potty. I had my Garmin queued up, had to snap a picture of the elevation (10,201 ft).

Mom takes a quick picture with the awesome mountains in the background

I made my way to the start line with about 60 seconds to spare. The race director started the race with...a rifle! Even though I listened to the countdown, the crack of the rifle still startled me.

And we're off! And it's uphill right away! I was so excited that I probably ran a little faster than I should have, but it didn't take long for the altitude to smack me back to reality.

It wasn't very steep, or maybe it was...I don't know. I had to walk after about .5 mile.

The half marathoners peeled off after 1.25 miles, and the marathoners took a hard right which led straight uphill. There was hardly any running for the next few miles, it seemed like everything was straight up. My breathing was a little labored, but mostly I couldn't make my legs run up that steep of a climb. Everyone was walking, but they were walking a heck of a lot faster than me. How do they do that??

Mile 4 completely sucked, there was a really steep climb...which is probably why it took 17:19 to complete. Getting the gist of the race yet? Somewhere along here I got passed by an older lady who reminded me of Joan Benoit-Samuelson. She had short white hair and was wearing a hot pink shirt and a hat, which is exactly what she was wearing when I saw her in DC back in March. I decided to aptly name her "Mountain Joan" because she was kicking my butt.

Somewhere between mile 4 and 5 there was an aid station, which was set up exactly like an ultra-aid station with all real food and multiple beverages (to include flat coke).

It was then that I realized my stomach was fine and I didn't have any more "emergency cramping" going on. I was hungry, so I took a banana. Very bad idea. The banana turned in to a giant ball of pain intent on ruining what little ability I had to breath. Thankfully there were no g.i. issues, but the cramping wasn't fun either.

We really started seeing some amazing scenery, I just love being in the mountains. I made quick friends with a guy, and it happened to be his birthday. We snapped pictures for each other and continued onward.

Birthday Dan and I talked about last year's winning time (3:30), and how frightening it is that both of our marathon PRs are faster than the winning time. Eventually I left birthday Dan (probably on the downhill) and was hit in the face with more uphill. It was absolutely beautiful though, hard to complain!

It was scary seeing the little tiny dots of runners wayyyy ahead running uphill.

Snow! If we hadn't had such a bad winter in DC, I would probably be more excited by this. I tried to get a girl to go jump in it so I could take a picture, and she actually mulled it over (though later declined).

We headed through a single-track on the side of a mountain, which was absolutely terrifying to look down. Good thing I'm not afraid of heights, and I know how to tuck & roll!

Booo on this climb...

Finally we had a nice 3 mile downhill section, and I took it for all it was worth (after turning around to take a picture, of course). I was surprised that I was passing pretty much everyone in sight, and no one was keeping up with me. Since when did I get so good at running down hill? Hmm. This must be recent.

We hit the intersection which merged us back on trail with the half-marathoners, which meant we were beginning our ridiculous climb up to Mosquito pass (13,200ft elevation). I knew this was going to be tough, but I completely underestimated just how hard it would be. I thought it was only a 1.5 mile climb, but that's because I'm silly sometimes. It was definitely 3 miles, straight up to the sky. At first I felt like I could hold a decent pace (sub 19:00/mile), but it was exhausting. My legs were on fire and I was completely out of breath. The wind picked up and the temperature drastically dropped, as only mountain air can do. I was completely shivering, but I managed to focus on other things to keep my mind off of it (like all of the loose rocks I was tripping over...). The halfers were coming down the decent, so I tried my best to stay out of there way. I know how hard it is to run down a steep, rocky path with stupid runners unwilling to move over. Unfortunately, they ran all over the place and I couldn't tell which way to run in order to stay out of the way. I finally gave up and just walked straight up.

I think I ended up around a 25:00 pace on this section, just looking at it makes my legs weep openly. Breathing wasn't an issue, I couldn't walk fast enough to get my heart rate up. The sky was playing tricks with me here, it was like someone was holding a flashlight and kept waving their hand in front of the light beam. One second it was sunny, the next instant it was cloudy, then sunny, then cloudy...you get the picture. Just a reminder, it was freaking cold!

It took me about an hour to get to the stop (miles 10-13), but I finally made it. Mosquito pass! Why it is named that, I do not know. I didn't see any mosquitos (thankfully). It was so sweet to see the little aid station at the top, I sighed with relief.

Most people stopped long enough to have someone take their picture, it did feel pretty monumental to get up that beast.

At this point I started thinking about how many women might be ahead of me, and I decided to run down and find out. I had been "chasing" (not that I was trying to catch them) 2 women on the way up, one was dubbed "Tights" due to her compression outfit choice, the other was "Skirt" (gee, wonder why). Tights was not very friendly at all, I tried talking to her and she had no interest. I happily left her behind and chased down Skirt, who was doing an impressive job of rock-hopping on the way down. It took me a full 1.5 miles to catch her, even though she was only 15 yards ahead of me. I rolled my bad ankle at some point, which was a little too painful. I sucked it up and kept going, and rolled it again about .15 later. Doh! Come on! I tried to shake it out, and just keep going. I was glad that I hadn't even though of my ankle up until that point. Good thing I didn't have to balance on my foot for 5 seconds (which is a terrible test for running, apparently).

I started getting really pissed at all of the people who wouldn't get out of my way. There was very little terrain which was mostly free of rock, and they wouldn't give it up to the downhill runners. The rocks were so slippery. If your foot didn't slip on the surface of the rock, the rock would slide under the weight of your foot. I can't count how many times I rock-surfed.

Pause for a scenic photo op...

I caught Skirt girl when it leveled out a little and there weren't many loose rocks to trip me up. We chatted for a bit, and she told me she's really good on the crazy technical stuff, but otherwise she isn't very fast. I wished her luck and sped on by. I made it all the way down somewhere in the neighborhood of 27 minutes, which was pretty sweet considering how long it took to get up there...and this CRAP we were running on!

After making it through an aid station the marathoners were on their own again. At this point, it got very quiet and remote. I didn't see very many people, though I somehow caught up to a lot of people. Miles 18-20 were completely awful. It was all uphill (remember that 3 mile section I flew down earlier? Hmph. Had to go back up). There wasn't any running until we hit the single track at 21, and even then the running was only for about 50 meters at a time. Every time I felt discouraged by how awful my legs felt, I would take a picture of something scenic.

like....

or...

and then...

I paused to pick a wildflower (I know, bad Amy!). It made me feel better.

We came to an aid station around mile 22, and I decided to put the camera away and focus on all of the downhill we were about to hit. Mind you, every mile still had some sort of climb in it which was rather discouraging. The entire race was either straight uphill or straight downhill, there was very little moderate ground. It was almost easier to deal with because I didn't have to think about whether I should run or not. If it was up, I walked...if it was down, I ran. A couple of times I ran a few yards on the uphill just to change up my stride and make my body appreciate the walking a little more :)

Now we're talking! I was flying down the last 3 miles. My legs hated me, but they really had no choice. I consider my form more of a free-fall with really good brakes. We didn't have any more incidents (my feet and I), which was pretty miraculous. I passed a lot of guys who were either nursing a recent fall or running slow because they were so afraid of falling. Don't judge, it was rough stuff. I think I was pretty dumb and lucky for making it down the way I did.

The pain in my legs was intense, the stomach cramp never quite went away. It may have been a cramp from lack of oxygen, which is somewhat believable given the ridiculous altitude. I felt more mentally strong at the end of this race than I have in a very, very long time. I obviously wasn't trying to snag a PR, so what happened? I think I realized why I picked this race... I want to know more about myself as a runner. I learn more about ME by learning more about my running. This was a very hard test for me, and there isn't a single thing I would've done differently (well, perhaps I'd skip the banana next time). I was in control of my race, even though the mountain was in control of my legs. Sometimes I really hate my big legs, but then I think about the fact they carry me through some ridiculous crap and are ready to go the next time the gun goes off.

The last mile was an antsy mile. I just wanted to be done! We hit asphalt .75 from the finish, and it KILLED my feet. Holy crap. I'm starting to get why ultra marathoners hate the road so much. That sucked. Nevertheless, it was downhill so I obliged the hill master and let my legs roll. As I approached the finish I didn't hold back at all. They announced my name and everyone cheered.

The second I crossed, my family was there waiting to fix whatever was broken. I am happy to say that I took more from this race than I gave, and I feel like a much stronger runner for it.

I walked around later to figure out if I'd placed (2nd AG, 8th OA), and I saw a guy I'd been running with for a mile or two. His knees were covered in blood as he sat on the curb. I suddenly noticed that everyone who was sitting on the curb of the road had bloody knees and were waiting for medical attention. I love my legs even more for that.

I probably won't ever do this race again, but it was a very special memory. It will be up there with my favorite races of all times, because it leaves a lasting impression of what I accomplished and how few would ever try.

Mile splits for those who are interested in just how ugly this looked:

1- 10:16

2- 14:16

3- 13:14

4- 19:19

5- 13:05

6-15:16

7- 08:00

8- 08:13

9- 07:31

10- 9:54

11-16:56

12-22:12

13-23:24

14&15-17:03 (forgot to hit lap)

16- 8:15

17- 10:09

18- 15:57

19- 13:52

20- 15:47

21- 8:55

22-12:53

23- 11:08

24- 9:40

25- 7:45

26.2- 7:29 (totally ran mid 6's for the last mile!)

Pre-Leadville Anxiety

2010-07-02T10:06:00.000-04:00

Well, it's Friday....I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Frisco, CO (elevation 9,100 ft) wondering why on earth I signed up for the race tomorrow. I usually have a "calm before the storm" type of feeling going on before a race, but this time I'm so fearful of what might happen tomorrow that I can't seem to find any positive thoughts. I know at the least I'll always be able to finish the distance, but tomorrow....all bets are off.

Perhaps my mistake was visiting Leadville earlier in the week. I was greeted by hard-packed orange dirt trails littered with rocks and debris, with zero shade and somehow heading up an incline in all directions. I got out of the car and walked around, we were somewhere close to 11,000ft at this point.

I took THIS picture and was completely out of breath by the time I made it back to the car.

Or maybe it was this particular piece of scenery that made me unsettled:

What makes this race so hard? Well, start with the elevation. When was the last time you were at 10,500ft elevation at a starting line? Ever tried running at that altitude? Yeah, me neither. I've been up here for a week with my family, and while I'm finally acclimatizing on my runs and hikes, it's still insanely hard. Add to that the lack of shade at that altitude and you're getting a serious smack-down from the sun. Oh, and did I mention there's a total of 6,000 ft of climbing? Sigh. At least the peak is only 13,500 ft at Mosquito Pass! (come on, pretend with me here).

I stopped in a local outdoor gear shop to find out a bit about the race, I figured if anyone had any sage words of wisdom it would be them. Sadly, one of the employees had entirely too much fun freaking me out.

At first, it wasn't so bad...

Then he started showing me the "fun" parts...

And now I'm completely ready to pack it up and go back to sea-level:

I know, I'm being a big wuss. Not really though. We stopped by the race office where they still have the results from 2009 taped to the window. Average finishing time? 6:18!!! 6 HOURS and 18 MINUTES! For a MARATHON!!! I actually found a blog online and stalked the poor guy to put myself in comparison with his finish time, because I honestly have no idea what to tell my family. See you at the finish line, hopefully? At some point before dinner? Anyways, this guy ran a marathon in 3:15, lives in Boulder, and finished Leadville in 5:55. Ehhh?

Alright, my musings/freaking out has to come to an end, heading up to Rocky Mt. National Park to see some moose/elk. And I don't mean my brother. Hopefully my name will make it on the finisher's list tomorrow...for the first time in my life, I'm not so sure.

The Lincoln Running Company

2010-06-26T00:12:00.000-04:00

If you’re looking for an up-beat, college town store…the Lincoln Running Company has it covered.

While I’m sure there are many customers other than college kids, it can’t be missed that they are located in the middle of a college town. The employees, Ryan & Ryan, were both super friendly college guys happy to talk to anyone about running.

They even have a “discount bin” for shoes, which I can admit to rifling through. One of the managers, Ann, is a coach to the college girl’s cross country team and to the marathon training program for the store. It sounds like the perfect place to hit up just in time for a fall marathon training plan.

We left Ryan & Ryan with a few bags of Endurasoak, hopefully they’ll share with the rest of the group and enjoy the results.

Peak Performance

2010-06-26T00:06:00.000-04:00

After driving through more rolling farmland, we finally made it to Omaha, NE. Peak Performance is definitely different from all of the other running stores we’ve visited so far. The location is literally a warehouse, which gives them all the room they could possibly need in the store.

Sure enough, they had a large track set up inside for runners to test their shoes. There are 3 locations in the Omaha area, though I’m not sure if the other stores also sport a track. We left the store with some samples…and we know one thing for sure, they certainly have room for a case of Endurasoak.

Running Room

2010-06-26T00:01:00.000-04:00

Next stop, West Des Moines to visit the Running Room.

We met Corey, the store manager, and he was very generous to put up with our rambling about Endurasoak for so long. Actually, he was great and we learned a lot about the Running Room.

The store HQ is in Canada, and they certainly have a tried and true way of doing business. With 108 stores, I’d say they are doing something right. They have all the gear and clothing options you could ever need, including a large selection of cold weather gear which I imagine comes handy in this part of the country.

They also had a lot of literature written by the store owner, a collection of training and nutrition books. They have 4 group runs a week, so it’s easy to assume they have a fairly large group of local runners.

We definitely enjoyed our conversation with Corey, and he assured me that the owners would give Endurasoak their toughest critique. Bring it!

2010-06-25T23:52:00.000-04:00

Cedar Rapids, Iowa is home to Running Wild, a store with friendly employees and an even friendlier dog to greet the customers.

They seem to have a broad scope of customers, as while we were in there we saw both an older gentlemen making a purchase and a high school cross country runner looking for spikes. They have group runs twice a week, and support a myriad of local races.

This year they are putting on their first ever cross country race trilogy, which sounds like an interesting option for the hot summer months. While this store was small and quaint, the employees are knowledgeable and eager to help.

Naperville Running Company

2010-06-25T23:42:00.000-04:00

It’s easy to see why the Naperville Running Company was rated the best running store in 2009 by Competitor. It’s huge, has a little track to test your shoes on, and virtually every product you could possibly want or need to buy. I’m in love with their recovery section, they have a great thing going (not to mention their stock of Endurasoak!!).

They also have a lot of popular running books which I’ve only ever been able to find on Amazon. The employees were very friendly and eager to help. I happened to overhear a couple of conversations with various customers and they related with each and every person regardless of their level of ability.

Huge props also for their nice bathrooms that customers are welcome to use. I must hydrate often, because I tend to judge a store based on bathroom and this one passes with flying colors. The store was busy when we walked in and busy when we left, I highly doubt there is ever a dull moment. We’re privileged to have Endurasoak in this store, and I hope other store owners will see this and take note!