Here we go...

I actually had a New Year's resolution this year -- I was going to challenge myself to face my fears and start running with the other ultra/trail runners in Corvallis. I faced a similar challenge when I started going on group rides during my road biking days in Missoula. As in Missoula, I struggle to keep up, but everyone has been so supportive and I think I'm becoming a stronger runner for it.

I've also found myself signing up for more races - and much closer together - than I had before running with the group. The excitement of signing up for new races and getting into the big ones can be both catching and addictive.

So on Friday, March 11th, I found myself driving with Ross to the Columbia River Gorge for my first of four endurance events within as many months. Our first stop was at Nicholas' in Gresham for Lebanese with seven of the Corvallis crew. From there onto the KOA for our stay in the Kamping Kabin. It as a kozy, kute spot, though I only saw it at night (Ross reported that things were a bit bleaker by daylight). I had packed enough clothing for about three runners, but I wanted options - and well, I can be a bit neurotic before races. I finally decided on an outfit, threw together a few drop bags, then tried to settle down to sleep. At least that was the intent. Trains came by about every hour. I'm sure wearing my earplugs would have helped, but I was afraid that if I put them in, I would have missed my alarm (refer back to the comment about being neurotic).

Nevertheless, around 6:15, I found myself milling around Wyeth Campground with about 140 other runners. After repeated porta-potty breaks, we boarded buses for our ride to the start. Without really planning it, all the Corvallis-ites ended up on the same bus, which we thought would be the first to the start (first to the start = first to the porta-potty line). We actually were almost the last, but that ended up being a good thing considering the cold temperature and the light drizzle that was starting to fall.

Soon enough (enough time for me to start thinking, "I feel hungry ... crap"), we were off. The first two miles were a 1700' climb - and surprisingly I felt really good. I tried to keep the heartrate and effort low, but was able to jog most of it. The next ten miles or so were a mix of technical down-hills, gorgeous waterfalls, and short but steep-ish uphills. Over-all, I was feeling great -- singing "It's a great day to be alive" - great. I came into Aid Station 1 feeling like it was possible come in under 6 hours. Lobo was there with words of encouragement and a helpful hand, and I was off (an aside: the RD, James, bought re-usable cups for the aid stations and beer at the end -- very cool!).

Shortly after Aid 1, we passed by pretty Elowa falls. It was likely running through a fairly land with moss-covered boulders, waterfall mist, and blue waters. Happy. Heading up the next climb, I passed Colin who later dropped due to a twisted ankle. The next ten were a bit of a blur of technical trails, rocky ankle-twisting landslides, muddy-ucky-bulldozed roads, and pavement. Around mile 16, I felt the proverbial wall rising up. I'd been fueling up every hour -- either gels or the pb&j, coke, and peanut m&m's at Aid 1, so I thought I'd be able to power through it better. Instead, I started thinking about how when you hit the wall during a traditional marathon, you only have about 8-10 miles left, but in an ultra, you're at best about half-way through. Stinkin-thinkin.

I was feeling a little defeated at Aid 2, but Lobo was there again with a friendly smile and more words of encouragement. I couldn't figure out how to screw the top back on my water bottle without spilling the cup of coke I was also holding. Never occurred to me to put the coke down. Luckily someone helped me with that. More pb&j (best EVER), peanut m&m's and corn chips (is this what they mean by "mana from heaven"?), and I was off (yeah -- I was kinda carb and salt hungry by then).

Some of the best trail of the course was in the last 10 miles. I kept trying to convince myself that I should be enjoying the nice, rolling, relatively nontechnical pine-strewed single track. Unfortunately, by then I had little "go" left in me and I felt every foot-fall through every aching joint. Caballo passed me during the short down-and-back around mile 22. His singing made me laugh and perked me up a bit for the next mile or so. When I eventually found myself heading down to Wyeth at mile 30, I was ready to stop. In fact, when I saw Ross about a third of a mile from the finish, I did. To say hi and that I was tired. He suggested we run together, which made the ending so much more pleasant than it would have been otherwise.

6 hours and 36 minutes. Instead of breaking 6 hours, it stands as my slowest 50k time. Considering the technicality of the trail and the elevation gain (over 5000') I'm going to be okay with it. Besides, only a few more weeks till I get to try a new goal at the Peterson Ridge Rumble (40 miler) April 10th.