The Promise Lane

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

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

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...

….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...

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

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 ;)