The 2015 American River 50 Mile Endurance Run - Clear Your Mind of Can't

How does one encapsulate a huge journey into paragraphs?.... How does one put into words the subtleties of a slow transformation, the kind that hardly feels like anything until one looks back? 

Last weekend I ran the American River 50 mile endurance run and I'm not sure what to write.  Here is an example of the only short version I can think of:

Once upon a time... I signed up for a 50 mile race.  I trained well.  I ran the race.  It was really hard but I finished within the cutoff time... The end.

But perhaps that's just a bit too short.  If you're a curious sort and plan on reading further, I suggest you get comfortable, I can be wordy.  You have been forewarned.

For me, this journey is less about 'running 50 miles' and more about transformation.  I can't help but think of when my endurance running began, back in 2010 at the age of 43 feeling overwhelmed by an invitation to participate in a Half Marathon!  The post that started this blog best explains how this is a journey of transformation and reaching one's potential.

You see, I honestly didn't think I could run 13.1 miles.  I did.  Then I did it six more times.  Then I did a full trail Marathon. Again.  Then a 50k....  Each and every time I wondered if this would be my limit.  Each distance was difficult and I was challenged, but after each one I wondered about the next distance. 

Going into AR50 I was inspired by this blog post and adopted the mantra "Clear Your Mind of Can't".  The redefining of the word "can't'" is the crux of change in my life.

Mantra bracelets I made to wear during my race; Find Your Strong, Clear Your Mind of Can't and Be Badass!

The race!  You want to know about the race!... 

I devoured information... articles, blog posts, race reports and videos... anything and everything I could find.  I soaked it all in.  I trained well, disciplined and consistent.  I tried not to think about the  race as a whole and broke it into segments.  I was confident that I could make it to the halfway point and I had faith that my pacers could get me to the finish.  The race has three segments to pick up pacers and I was blessed and fortunate that my running buddies and my boyfriend wanted to pace. Three segments, three pacers.  How perfect was that?!

To calm my pre-race nerves I reminded my self that all I had to do was make it to them and then we would do what we do; run.  It took an hour and a half to fall asleep the night before the race, but after three hours of solid sleep I felt ready.  We had to be in the parking lot by 5am.  The silver lining here was that there was a lunar eclipse happening!  So we sat in the warm car and watched it.

Time to line up and who crosses my path?  The Good News guy from my WTC50k race!  I took it as an omen that this would be a good day.

 ((video link - coming soon))

Off we go... Keep it slow.  The air was cool, the skies clear.  It was a beautiful sunrise.

I did a good job of breaking the task down in my mind to 'aid station to aid station'.   Keep it slow and steady.  My mind stayed focused and positive, my body felt strong.  I fueled and hydrated when prompted by my Garmin.

But then the morning warmed up.  And the trail turned into sidewalks.  My least favorite part of the course.  My legs began to feel 'tight'.  It was subtle, but it was there.  I felt low between miles 15 and 19.... A seasoned ultra-runner had given me the advise to "leave your ego at the start line".  Initially when I read this I thought 'oh, no worries, I know I'm slow, I don't have an ego'.  But somewhere around this time is when I realized that my ego had been hoping to make my ultrasignup target of 12 hours.  With the issues in my legs I was realizing that my true goal was to finish before the cutoff time.  The meaning of his words became clear.  Do what you can and adapt.

At the first crew accessible aid station, Negro Bar, I was met by my mom and aunt.  It was such a lift to see them, I got a bit emotional.  They told me I was about 20 minutes ahead of my target.  My mom gave me the avocado roll she brought for me (loved them on my long runs in training).

((video link - coming soon))

From Negro Bar to Beal's point it's pretty much uphill, it's not steep but it's steady.  And on concrete.  I caught up with the Good News Guy and he advised just keeping a brisk walk for the section.  I did.  Here I met a man that had finished the AR50 23 times, plus 12 consecutive Badwater finishes... and some other impressive stuff. 

I had to take a photo here because I've seen this shot in so many blog posts.

Beal's Point, mile 24.31! As promised, I made it to the halfway point (still 15 minutes ahead of target) and it was time to pick up my first pacer.

This stop proved to be more emotional than I had anticipated.  It had seemed that the first half, the easy half, had kinda kicked my butt more than I thought it would.  My legs were still tight.  As I entered I began to see so many people I knew and the group was so large I became overwhelmed by the fact that they were all there.  For me.  To support me on this crazy adventure!  Wow.  Plus my boyfriend was the absolute best crew captain!  Everything I had asked for was provided.  He filled my hydration pack with ice (a lifesaver!) and my pockets with fuel and sent me off... with Holly!  We did what we do... run... and chat!  

Off with Holly

Photo by Holly

This 5.14 mile section went by so fast with her company!  We chatted about running and life in general, just like normal.  It was mostly a lovely single track trail with gentle rolling terrain overlooking Lake Folsom, flowers and butterflies everywhere.

Next stop; Granite Bay, mile 29.45.  In hindsight, I took too long of a break at this aid station.  Again, it's just so crazy to have so many people there for support.  I got caught up in the moment, and the shoulder massage from my aunt!  Crew Captain Extraordinaire filled my pack with ice, the pockets with fuel and informed me it was time to go!

At this point eating solid food was proving difficult.  When I tried to eat my ABJ or my avocado roll it was like putting powdered cement in my mouth.  Adding water did not help.  I relied on my Stinger Waffles (a relatively new discovery, yum) and chews and gels (Stinger).  I have tried to keep my run fuel as natural as possible.  It has really helped with GI issues.

This pacer was happy to get into the race!

Now it's time to run with Torie... my Torinator!  Running... It's what we do. We had talked pacer strategy prior to the race, but it's hard to know what you'll need or what will work when it's the first time.  I had told her that I wanted to be pushed and that I was not to be believed if I said I wanted to drop. We started this section with her in front, I did my best to stay with her.

In many of the race reports I had read this section was where runners experienced their lowest point and that contrary to logic the miles in the 30's were harder (mentally and physically) than in the 40's.  Confirmed.  At this point the tightness in my legs was spreading, it was no longer subtle.  My glute, inner hip, hamstring, quads and calf (mostly on the left side) were all protesting and making a vague threat to cramp.  Downhill proved the worst and I became super slow.  My left knee lost flex (felt kind of like it froze) and the huge two foot drops in the trail became very difficult to navigate.  Rocks. Roots. Boulders. Drop offs.  It seemed like miles of it.  Hard to navigate, impossible to get a groove or momentum.  The cool breeze of the day was gone and the heat started to take over, it felt humid.  This section is called the "meat grinder" and I was understanding why!  It was becoming harder to focus.  My garmin lost signal and the fuel and hydration reminders were inconsistent.  I struggled to answer simple questions (like "do you need to eat?" do you want to stop to stretch your legs?") but I never doubted my ability to continue.  I had a few thoughts that maybe this pain would slow me down enough that I might have to walk, and that might cause me to miss a cutoff... but I never lost focus of forward movement.  This section of trail was also stunningly beautiful.  Butterflies and and flowers galore!

Butterfly!

This view was stunning in person.  We joked about how it would not translate in a photo. One of the joys of being out on the trail.

Again, it doesn't translate... these two trees have apparently grown together, forming one branch.

At some point in this section Torie had me take the lead.  I managed to take a gel and within a few minutes I seemed to pick up some momentum.  When I would happily join those walking in front of me on the single track trail I would hear Torie quietly say "Pass these folks"... and I would.  We were moving again!  My legs were still tight, but I found a gait that allowed me to gain momentum.  We passed most of the runners that had passed me.  It felt unbelievable.

Then we started to hear the distant cheers of an aid station... Rattlesnake Bar, mile 40.94!

Holy smokes!... I made it to Marcelo!... we only had nine miles left.  I knew - knew - at this point that I would finish this thing!  I had lost quite a bit of time in the meat grinder and was now about 20 minutes behind my target time, but still ahead of the cutoff.  More ice, more fuel and it's off with my guy...

He's fresh and ready to go eat some hills!

Off we went!... The scenery of the trail changed again as we left Folsom Lake and went up the river... At this point I was pretty fatigued and we didn't talk much.  It's also narrow single track so talking was not easy.  I stayed in front and did what I could when I could... I told him "I know this is not a pretty gait, but it's all I've got and it's working!".   At some point the Badwater guy passed me and I realized that he has finished this race 23 times, he is not about to get timed out.  If I can stick with him I know I'll make the cutoff.  He stopped at an aid station and we continued.  We started passing people.  I don't think it was that I was gaining speed as much as they were losing speed.  The fact that I was holding up well here was crazy!  Each time we passed someone struggling it put my experience into perspective and I counted my blessings.  I was not laid flat out in a field next to the trail.  I was not dry heave puking into the bushes.  I was not stretching out a cramp.  I was not white as a ghost talking about sitting.  I did not feel great, my legs were still tight... but I was moving steady and strong, especially on the uphill.

Ahh... the uphill... That daunting ascent at the end of the AR50 elevation chart...

I can't believe I'm saying this but it wasn't as bad as I had feared.  Yes, it was UP.  It was LONG.  But I was able to keep moving strong.  Marching it out.  I continued to pass people - lots of people - on this section.  The issues in my legs were affecting my dowhills so the uphill actually felt decent.   I made the boyfriend proud each time I 'picked someone off' (his words ;).  At some point I said out loud "maybe 50 is enough".  I just can't imagine attempting a 100 mile race...

One Mile to go!  But it would take too much energy to stop, turn around and go again...

Less than a quarter mile to go and I let the jets cool.  I got passed by a few people, but I didn't care and let them go.  A runner and pacer that I had been leap-frogging with for the whole second half passed me and as they gained distance they kept looking back.  I had the feeling they really wanted me to keep up.  It was a cool feeling, the bond that forms out there even without words.  Marcelo told me how proud he was of me but I was so focused that my response was "I'm not done yet"...

Then we start to hear the crowd.  The announcer.  See spectators.  Cones.  This is it!  The finish...!!!

I friggin did it!  Wow.  Crazy WOW!!!!  

And there they are again.. all those people that came to support me!  All so happy and proud.   Huge smiles!  They went through this journey with me.  They fueled my spirit all day.  At all the aid stations I would hear "you look great, you don't even look tired"... but I was tired and I did struggle.  I think my pacers witnessed that.  Having this group lifted me.  I honestly think that the monkey mind would have taken hold if I hadn't been surrounded by so much love and support all day.  I was so grateful, it was amazing!  WE did it...!!!

Pacers!  They make the world go 'round!

I got my 'free' jacket; All I had to do was pay the race fee and RUN 50 MILES!

It was an awesome and great experience.  I am very proud of myself.  I do feel that I have reached outside of the realm of normal and achieved something that few people ever even try.  I worked hard for it and it was worth it!  Looking back, I see how far I have come.  I had imagined that the person coming out of this experience would be a changed person and I believe that to be true.  Minor and major lifestyle changes have lead to transformations both obvious and hidden.  The word "can't" has been cleared from my mind. 

Later that same night at our celebration dinner, someone suggested that Torie and I should do our first 100 mile race together and without hesitation... We both said "YES!"...

* * * * * * * *

Special Shout Outs:

My crew: Marcelo, Linda, Lois, Holly, Cali, Morena, Torie, Forest, River and Ken - I could not have done it without all the love and support!  Thank you!  Thank you!  You guys rock!

My cyber supporters!  I was feeling the love... so many of you cheered my on through facebook, it was awesome!

Good Gear:
RYP Wear Skirts - Reach Your Potential!  These skirts are super cute and work great!
Salomon Hydration pack - Clearly smart design!... for runners, by runners
Hoka Shoes - I'm a believer... Silly looking or not, these shoes work well for long distance.

NorCal Ultras!  I guess I'm a NorCal girl because all of my long-er distances have been NCU races!  Well organized, good schwag, well marked trails, awesome volunteers!  Go find a race and sign up!

After thoughts:

Recovery has been super fast!  As expected, I had a bit of a duck-like walk for a couple days.  Stairs were very difficult.  But by Tuesday all pain and discomfort was gone.  Energy remains low but improves daily.  I'm taking it easy.

Inspiration to go for that 50 miler! - Video

The American River 50 miler race is touted to be a great "first 50" but I had reservations because it's so flat and has so much bike path... however, this video draws me to it because it looks like such a well organized and supported event.  There's definitely something to say for crowd support.  And not to mention that there are so many first timers, there must be support in the air...

So it's got me thinking about next year!.... LET'S GO!

My First 50k, The Way Too Cool

I don't suffer well.

This was declared somewhere between mile 17 and 24 after several hours of running... in the hills... through many, many water crossings... and lots of mud.  I was in the middle of my first 50k (yes, 31 miles).  I say "first" 50k now but at that moment I was coming to the conclusion that it would be my "only" 50k and that there was really no need to pursue that silly notion of doing a "100 mile race by the age of 50".  If I did make the cutoff time I could just take a marker and check that box off my list.  Ultra Runner.  Check.  Why do more?  It hurts.  I spent a lot of time in those miles trying to figure out how to explain to people why I chose to do this.  Why was this important to me?  I was also trying to figure out how I was even going to finish.  I was in pain and feeling pretty miserable.  If I was suffering this much just to make the cutoff in a 50k, why on earth would I want to do a 50 mile race?! Or a 100 mile race!  It's just inconceivable.  I don't suffer well was my conclusion. 




Despite LOTS of rain in the weeks prior, race day weather was just about as perfect as it gets.  Sunshine and blue skies with a comfortable low in the mid 40's and a predicted high of 70.

The route of this race is like a squiggly figure eight.

After the start we go out for an eight mile loop and then pass through the start/finish area to go out on the larger loop.  I purposefully took the first loop nice and easy, conscious of the common mistake of 'going out too fast'.  You pay for that later.  In the first two miles of pavement before hitting the single track trail everyone was passing me,  I must be doing it right. The landscape of the first loop is breathtakingly beautiful and I thought "I could run in this all day".  Wait...  I will be!  

Our first water crossing came early, before mile two.  Sinking those feet in for the first time was a bit shocking (and a first for me in a race) but once the feet were in the icy cold water it actually felt pretty good... the next 100 feet of water filled shoes, not so fun.  And since there had already been about 900 runners pass through before me there was a lot of slippery mud to contend with.  Better get used to it, because you're going to see a lot of water crossings.... and LOT of mud.

After the eight mile loop the route has a nice little descent down to the river and levels out to a pretty runnable stretch.

The thing about all that mud, I realized later, is that it makes you use your muscles in a different way, for balance.  This uses more energy and, of course, was not trained for (by me at least).  So that nice runnable stretch didn't feel so nice and runnable.  My legs felt tight and I realized that this was the point in my previous races that I had battled calf cramps.  I decided to go easy and let my legs relax.  It worked, no cramps.  However, I was feeling bloated and getting a bit dizzy, perhaps even slightly disoriented.  While hiking up a hill, I overheard a conversation about a woman in a 50 mile race that sat down at mile 47 not able to go on.  When her friend found out she had not she had not taken her salt tabs she made her take them and within a short time felt better and finished the race.  Then the storytellers were gone.  I decided the moral of this story was that I needed to take salt tabs at the next aid station!  I did and I began to feel better.  Just in time to feel worse....

This is where it all went downhill.  On the uphill.


Doesn't look so bad from here:

Here's a better view:

Three miles of up.  Up.  Up.  And then up.  I realized as I was beginning my hike of this ascent that the race had already been won.  Crazy!  But here we go, just keep it slow and steady.  Keep moving forward.

It seems that between each aid station I would end up behind a person at a similar pace and it helps keep me motivated to anchor on to them.  Run when they run, hike when they hike.  Since I was carrying all my own food supplies I only needed to make quick stops at the aid stations for water and then move on.  At some point near the end of the flat I kind of ended up joining two older gentlemen (who were joined by a younger friend that was clearly there for support,  I realized he was there to make sure they made the cutoff and if I could stick with them then I too would make the cutoff).   They seemed to be struggling at that point and one admitted to feeling horrible.  As the incline increased,  I actually pulled ahead of them.  I overheard many runners saying that the middle miles were a bigger struggle for them than they expected.  Mostly this was attributed to so much mud in the early miles.  A woman anchored on behind me.  She declined my offer to pass although I could tell she had more in her reserve tank than I did.  At some point she mentioned that she was on target for her goal and was well ahead of the cutoff.  Good.  Then that means me too.  Up we go.

She stopped to look at a map with some people that appeared to be the express aid station with minimal supplies.  Then she came up behind me quickly and passed.  I commented how she had turned on her turbos and as she disappeared up the trail I was informed that she learned she is way behind her goal of finishing at 3:45.  I couldn't tag along and as I calculated this new information, it meant that I would not make the cutoff.  So here's where the struggle turned from physical to a big ol' mental mess.

My internal voice got very negative:

How could you be this out of shape?  
What made you want to run this far anyway?  
You've come this far and worked this hard and you're not even going to make the cutoff!  
There's no way you can do a 50 mile race.  
Don't even bother with the notion of ever doing a 100 mile race.  
You shouldn't even bother with another 50k since everyone said this was a good "first time 50k" and it's too hard for you.
If you were a badass you could go faster.  
If you were tough you would not let this pain keep you walking.
You're getting slower!
Everyone is passing you.  
How are you going to explain this to all the people rooting for you?
Post this on facebook... 50k:FAILURE!
To do a 100 miler you need to be able to suffer well.  And for a long time.  Obviously, you can't.
You don't suffer well. 

Fun, right?!... This was the internal tape that played on repeat in my head for approximately 4-5 miles.  Very slow, uphill miles.  Eventually the terrain seemed to level out and become very scenic.  I was trying to take that in.  Remember to see the beauty of this trail.  But that damn negative tape was on replay in my head.  It was getting harder to ingest calories.  My legs were on fire.  There was a man who appeared to be in his late 60's or 70's ahead of me.  He was doing a very slow shuffle, something closer to a walk than even a jog.  I could not catch him.  We were going downhill!  *$%#!!!!.....

At this point someone comes from behind and I step aside to let him pass.  Standing still actually hurt the most.  It's like someone injects a bag of lactic acid into each of your legs.  They just radiate pain.   Keep moving.  Walking is better.  But honestly, it hurts more than the shuffle.  You can do this.  Shuffle.  The younger man that had just passed me asks to pass the shuffler man that I can not catch and he says "might as well take advantage of the downhill while I can!".  He's right.  I need to go with him!  So I did.  I passed the shuffler.  I anchored onto the younger man.  We ran miles together without a word between us.  Eventually he looked back and said "oh, good, you're still there.  I like to know I have company out here".  I inquire if he thinks we'll make the cutoff.  And he very positively and confidently says "Yes.  It's only 2:30, even if we walk the rest of it we'll make the cutoff!".

I can't describe the relief I felt.  My mental state had just been instantly transformed from why even bother to you can do this...  Just in time for the infamous "Goat Hill".  It's probably less than a quarter of a mile but it's super STEEP uphill.  Hard enough that there was a contest to see who would take it the fastest.  I ascended Goat Hill much faster and stronger than I had anticipated.  At the top my legs were very tight and for fear of cramps I decided to walk for a bit.  The man ahead of me said "I can't believe she caught me on that hill!"  "Who?"  "The woman with the broken nose! She slipped in the mud and faceplanted and has a broken nose and two black eyes!"  I had also just heard about a woman that slipped in the mud and ripped her ACL and was rushed off to the trauma center!  I told him that I was going to consider myself lucky to just be feeling achy and miserable!  And off we went.

The downhill was muddy and slippery.  More water crossings.  More unavoidable mud puddles.  Just when you think you stop hearing the sound of squishy wet shoes, there's another water crossing!   I want to finish.  I'm not going to push my pace.  Not even on the downhill (which I love to do).  No falling.  Slow and steady.  One of the older men that had been struggling around mile 16 catches me and looks totally refreshed!  With a smile on his face he passes me "you've got this, girl!".  Near the bottom, a group of runners catches up.  It's the other man (his group has grown by a couple).  Was I going that slow?  Slowing down even more?  Was he gaining speed?  Was he just steady?  What was his secret (besides breaking race regulations and having "pacers").  I decided that I could not lose him.  No matter what.  So I anchored on.  Walked when he walked.  Ran when he ran.  I listened to his group talk about Greek philosophers or something like that and laughed at the random conversations out on a thirty-one mile run.

We crossed the highway and into the last aid station.   He went to the table and I kept going, along with his stealth friends that would wait for him about a quarter mile past each aid station.  But I had decided not to hold any ill feelings about these renegades because I was benefiting from them too.  And I appreciated it.  Only one mile to go.  On this last little uphill I passed several people that were clearly struggling.  But my pains were diminishing.  I was feeling stronger the closer I got.  I was energized by each person that I passed.  But here he came again!  How was he doing it?!  No.  He was not going to pass me.

Yes.  He did. 

Is it wrong to decide that there is no way I am going to let this 70+ year old man beat me?  Does this make me a bad person?  I don't care.  A teeny little downhill and I let gravity take me.  I love downhill and decided to GO!  In the last half mile I passed a few more people!  How could this be?  Then the turn into one of the final stretches.  No pain.  My legs stretched out into long strides.  Splashing  in mud puddles.  Passing more people!  Impossible!!  The last turn towards the finish chute.  A crowd of cheering people.  I hear my name but I can't find the caller in all the faces.  Go!  Power!  There's one woman ahead of me.  We've been leap-frogging all day.  Is it wrong to pass her in the last twenty feet?  Is that bad race etiquette?  I don't care, my turbos are on and it feels amazing!  I pass her.  I cross the finish.  The woman handing out the medals tells me to stop running now.  I did it.  I finished my first 50k.

I did it.

I became overwhelmed with emotion.  So much in life feels out of control and is out of my control.   I set this crazy goal.  I got myself out there and trained.  It took many, many hours of training to even get to the start line of this race.  And now I've crossed the finish line.

My official time was 7h 58m 48s. 

  Thanks to Marcelo for this screenshot of my finish from the live coverage! 

Then I wonder how can I accomplish this feat and still not think I'm tough?! ... I don't think it's the negative voice (I left that back at the bottom of Goat Hill).  I think it's the part of me that knows I can do better.  I can train smarter.  I can get fitter....  and I will keep that crazy notion of doing a 100 miler by the time I'm 50.  Remember, there was a time I did not believe that I could even finish a half marathon!

Now it's time to take my shoes off and let my feet dry!  It's time to go celebrate.

I am tough.  And I suffered well enough.

--------------------

P.S.

• More pix of me will be posted soon.

• The winner of the race won in 3hours and 16 minutes!!!  This does not compute in my brain.

• After the race, the "downhill shuffler" saw me and asked if I broke eight hours.  I said I didn't know yet as I hadn't checked my official time.  He said "I wanted you to break eight hours and I hope you did".  This was really touching.  It turns out I had, by 1 minute and 12 seconds.  He was only 7 minutes behind me.  We had not spoken any words on the trail but we had leap-frogged a few times early and late in the race.  It always amazes me how these silent bonds form on the trail.  And I love being part of this community!  It also amazes and inspires me how many people of various shapes, sizes and ages are out there!  He is 70 and said he's "just getting back into it".  Probably going to go for another 100 miler (which he did in his 50's and 60's)!!!  Now how's that for badass inspiration!?

• The 70+ man, he's signed up for the Western States 100 mile race!  More badassery.

• I looked for the good news guy and thanked him.  I wanted him to know how grateful I was, he had changed my whole mental state and that it was fun to run "with" him for those miles.

• Eight hours is a long time to run with wet soggy feet!  But NO blisters!  Yay.

• Hokas Rock!

• Link to photos from the race organizers, NorCal Ultras on facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.758659000819873.1073741832.251951744823937&type=1

• Link to photos from UltraLiveSportsTV:  https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.470746666360871.1073741833.352884354813770&type=1

• A big Congratulations to my friend and running buddy Torie, who rocked it and finished about a half an hour ahead of me.  We did most of our training miles together and she's always an inspiration!

• Big props also go out to Steve, Loren and Elisa!  You guys inspire me too!

Happy Trails ~ T

Uh Oh... Ultra

Today's quote is quite timely...

It's utterly amazing what the mind and spirit can cajole from the body. - Kristin Armstrong 

 A few weeks ago I entered the lottery for the Way Too Cool 50k.  After achieving my 26.2 goal and feeling pretty high and confident my sights were set ahead.  2013 would be about the 50k, the entry "ultra" distance.  Not too much further in actual distance, but leaps and bounds in bragging rights.  The one 50k that really appealed to me was the WTC but it is reported to be very difficult to get in.

So I put my name in the lottery.  Odds are I won't get in on the first try.  Then work got really busy and I stopped running for what seems an eternity.  Turns out it's only been two weeks.  But I should also confess that I have eaten like a Mid-Western American* gone bad.... There was no regulating what or how much.  Interestingly, after feeling so good recently, I really noticed how horrible my new (old) routine was making me feel.  In the back of my mind I planned on becoming much more conscious about my health in the new year.  Just let the holidays go by.

So today I get an email.  "Congratulations!  You have been selected for the 2013 Way Too Cool 50K!".

What!?!?!?

 Holy crap!  I never thought I'd actually get in.  Now I'm behind in training, I've gained body fat.

But.  There is a voice in there that says "Good.  This is what you need to get back on track."  Just do it.  Use this fear.

And this is where today's quote is apropo....

A part of my mind tells me there is no way.  But I know better now.  It will be difficult.  I will have to work hard and I will have to be dedicated and focused.  That's what a little fear is good for.    It is possible.  I think I have realistic expectations; to finish within the time limit.  I'll be in the company of some big names in the Ultra world.  There are 941 runners.  It's very exciting.

What I am bummed about is that my friend, Torie, did not get in.  She is doing really well in her training and I feel guilty that I got in and she did not.  She is on the wait list (number 85 our of 396).  Entrants will undoubtedly drop out, so there is a chance she'll get in.  If not, I think she plans on volunteering.  I hope she gets in!

Another note of interest; my landlord is in this race.  She won it last year (with the fastest female time ever). 

My head is spinning.  But I am so excited!




* Use of the term "mid- western american" is not meant to offend anyone... it's based purely on the stereotypical American diet... If you have a better analogy, please share :)

Jitters, Rookie Mistakes and Triumph... The Golden Hills Marathon

The Short Version

Jitters: Homemade Mac+Cheese, Spinach Pie, Brownies, Hummus and Pasta... What do these things have in common?  I made them all the day before my first marathon!  I spent the day in the kitchen.  It gave me something to focus on.

Rookie Mistakes: Forgot to start my Runkeeper app (that keeps track of splits and elevation, etc), went out too fast in the first half... Classic.

Triumph:  I finished!  I finished 50 minutes ahead of expected!  And, the best part, I was NOT last!!



The Long Version

I don't know what possessed me to want to do a full... trail... marathon.  It was just two years ago that I was nearly offended by my friend's invitation to run a half marathon.  But I did it.  And then I did five more (three this year).  Early this year I came upon the Golden Hills Marathon and it called me.  I had to.  Running friends actually tried to talk me out of it because it was 'too hard' and they didn't want to see me injure myself.  When I found out there was no official cutoff time (due to the fact that the 50 milers take even longer) I decided to go for it.

The training went well.  The tapering played with my mind.  Nerves the day before had me cooking up a storm.  But come race morning I felt good.  The previous days had clouds and some rain but waking up in the dark early morning, I saw stars.  It would be a gorgeous day.  I could have been dropped off at the start of the race but decided to take the shuttle bus from the finish so that I could spend more time with the other runners.  Since I'm not actually competitive in the races it really is more about the experience.  I ended up sitting next to a woman that was volunteering, her job would be to 'sweep' the course.  She was very nice but I hoped not to see her again once the race started as it would mean time was up.  The best pre-race quote "I'm looking forward to another medal to put on my Wall of Self Loathing".

Off we went... the first four miles are up... up... and up... In training I had hiked the first four but knew that the first mile was actually runnable, so that's what I did.  As the wave of runners took off I was left by myself.  Feeling I must be last, until a curve in the course revealed plenty of people still way behind me.  That's a relief.   I only took two photos the whole day (in order to conserve battery).  It was the first one that I realized that I had forgotten to turn on the running app.

The view of SF from near the top of the first 4 mile climb.

I have never been in a race with aid stations and was blown away by how attentive the volunteers were.  Obviously runners themselves.  On each approach I'd hear "What do you need?"... "water?", "electrolytes?"... Almost before having time to answer they would take the bottles out of my hand, refill and hand back, all ready to go!...  the table had a smorgasborg of sugar and salty treats... "Do you need sugar or salt?"... At one aid station words were simply not forming... but the woman understood: one bottle filled with water, one with electrolytes.  I thanked them all, but I sure wish there was a way to express full gratitude.  It has inspired me to want to volunteer.

At some point around mile five I found myself in a little pack of runners.  They were holding a very comfortable pace and I found it pushed me exactly where I needed to be pushed.  There were about seven of us, compact.  So much so that the 50 milers coming the opposite direction each made comments about the choo-choo train we seemed to form.  Eventually the pack separated up a big long hill.  But we continued to ping pong by each other on various parts of the course, some of us were faster going down, some faster going up.  I ended up hooking onto two of the women for quite a few miles from Sibley through Huckleberry into the Skyline aid station.  Again, they held a comfortable pace but pushed me in all the places I need to be pushed, the spots that I hiked in training but knew I needed to tackle in the race.  Not a word between us the whole time.  Until we got to the aid station and I told them how great it was to run with them.  After downing an orange wedge, a banana slice, boiled potatoes rolled in salt I grabbed a handful of potato chips and exited the aid station.

At mile ten my calf muscle started threatening to cramp.  Each time I flexed it (uh,  yah, every step) it flirted with cramping.  I couldn't believe it!!  My guess is that this was due to pushing my pace and running more of the ups than I had in training.  I was being very conscious of drinking my fluids and consuming gels on a regular basis.  So leaving the aid station I hiked the fairly flat West Ridge trail in order to give my calf a break.  My plan had been to start pushing once I reached the French Trail but this was looking iffy at this point.  At some point I heard "there you are!" and it was the ladies!  They caught up with me and I assumed we'd have our little pack again... but French came and I bombed down the hill.  I lost them.  Figured they'd catch me on the ups (they were stronger on the ups)... but they didn't.  I never saw them again in the race.  I ended up catching the leader of the original choo-choo pack and stuck with her for awhile.  But the calf was NOT happy... and now I was having a stitch, full diaphram... from the meal I ate at the aid station!  It was hard to run and it was hard to breathe!!  The french trail is one of my favorites on the course and I was completely miserable.  If I was struggling this hard at the mid-section how the hell was I going to finish?!  My mind was already composing the text to family of my defeat.  But I kept going.  And somehow took the lead over the the engine lady of the choo-choo.  Everything I'd read about ultra running taught me that so many runners go through incredible lows... if you keep going eventually you feel better.  We'll see about that.  I carry salt tabs on long runs but have never used them.  This would be the time.  A brief exchange with another female runner sealed the deal, she was taking them.  I popped one.  Another 20 minutes later.  I don't know if I felt any better.  It was the next aid station that I mumbled through.

The hill after mile 18 is... well how shall I say this... a long, hard mother******.  I hated this hill when I trained on it with fresh morning legs.  I hated this hill every time climbed it in the long training runs.  I hate this hill.  But one must keep moving forward.  The goal was to not stop, no breaks.  So up I went at the pace of a banana slug, one foot in front of the other... being passed by the 50 milers also hiking...  "Good Job"... I heard and said this thousands of times throughout the day.  Apparently it's the 'hello' of the ultra trail world.  Pretty awesome, it is such a supportive community.  Didn't matter if you were crawling, if you were still out on the trail, you were doing a "good job".  One 50 miler that passed me added "just think, we do this for fun!".  Eventually, I got to the top.  I had done it.  And guess what, by the time I got to the top of that gruesome hill my stitch was gone... and my leg cramp was now just tight, it was no longer spasming and threatening to take me to the ground.  So off we went...

The view from the top of the long hard M*F*.  Off in the distance, that's the finish.

By the BORT meadow aid station at mile 20 I was downright giddy.  I felt great!  How could this be?... Only a 10k left... and now we were entering the most runnable stretch of the entire course.  "Do what you can" became my mantra of the day.  I ran (something just above a walking pace) what I could, just keep it moving.  At this point I was realizing that my average pace was 15 minute miles.  This would put me at a finish well above my projected time.  But could I maintain it?  "Do what you can".  So I did.  One foot in front of the other.

The lake was in sight.  Still being passed by 50 milers.  And the choo-choo woman!  She (and her husband) were so steady, it was impressive.  As they passed me he said "you can't let us take over now" my response "I... can't ... help ... it..."... and off they went, but I kept them in my sights.  The last mile and a half must have been the longest mile and a half of the course.  My clock said I had 25 minutes to beat a 7 hour finish... I wasn't sure I could make it.  With about a mile to go I see my friend Holly running towards me!!  Wow!  That was a lift... my friend, my trail buddy, my running inspiration came to run it in with me!  She said I looked great and strong... I saw a crowd... got a tingly shot of adrenaline, picked up the pace...  I heard my name... the finish line had come!! 

It was an emotional moment for me.  I did it.  And I far exceeded my expectations and goal.  My family and friends were there to witness it.

It was an awesome adventure!!

Official time:  6:51:49 for my first marathon.
(I was 128 out of 151 finishers and the last finisher was at 10h25m!)

P.S.  The engine lady and her husband finished 40 seconds ahead of me.  And I found the two ladies that I dropped at the French Trail... They both hugged me immediately and it struck me how fast this bond forms on the trail.  We only had a few words between one another, we don't know each others names... but we had huge smiles and hugged after the finish.