The Rapture Run

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

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?