That was unexpected - Waldo 100k

In 2012, I had a horrible race at Waldo 100k.  You can read my description of it if you want here, but it can really be summed up by the fact that 3 miles from the finish, I stopped dead in my tracks and started sobbing because I didn't want to go any further.  Eventually, I did start again, and I did get my hat (which, until recently, was the only hat I ran in -- because dammit, I earned that hat), but most of the race was not a fond memory.

So, of course I signed up for it again.  I felt pretty good about my training leading up to the race and everything felt good and ready for race day.  Then, the Monday of race week, I was walking down a flight of steps in a convention center, not paying attention, missed a step, and twisted my ankle.  Bad. What is it with ankles and race week?  After several days of ice, compression, and trying to stay off my feet, it felt a little better, not still not 100%.  Coach Meghan had suggested I could finish in 13:30 -- I had guessed that was a best day scenario.  Now, with the ankle, I figured I'd be happy if I just had a good day and finished in time to get my hat (i.e. by 9pm).

At 5am, we were off, running and power hiking up the road from the ski area.  I was being careful to pick a good line on the rutted, uneven road, wanting to protect my ankle.  I had no intention of getting near the front, but definitely tried to get around some people so I could see where I was going. I was feeling pretty good, and Alan Abbs' quiet banjo playing in the dark put a smile on my face.

We turned onto single track and I had a great time cruising down the soft dirt trail and chatting with Heather Culig (who would eventually come in 3rd) until I realized that I couldn't get any liquid out of my hydration bladder.  I had drunk from it earlier in the morning, but now nothing would come out. Crap. I considered stopping along the trail to figure out the issue, but decided to wait until I got to the Gold Lake AS to see if a volunteer could help me out.

I've never been tweeted about during a race before!!

We crossed the bridge into the campground, and the volunteer tracking runners called in "128 - 3rd woman off the bridge".  Huh?  Well that was unexpected. Before I could think about what it really meant to be in 3rd - I took off my pack and shoved it in Todd Miller's hands, asking him if he could figure out why it wasn't working, then headed to the table to grab some food and drink. By the time I returned, Todd had it figured out, and after a quick bathroom break, I was down the trail. A few women had passed me in aid and I quickly passed them back.

Hiking up to Fuji Peak I started thinking about what it meant to be in 3rd.  I definitely felt a bit of excitement, but it was also still so early in the race, I didn't want to get too wrapped up in thinking about this as a 'race' versus a 'run'. The climb up Fuji felt great and I was treated to an amazing view of the Oregon Cascades spread in all directions below me.  After a happy whoop, I headed back down the trail.

What had seemed technical two years ago now seemed extraordinarily runnable compared to running in the Colorado front range.  I flew down the trail on the way to Mt. Ray until .... uh oh.  A few miles from the Mt. Ray AS, I needed to stop in the woods for some ... unpleasantness.  Digestion issues had been a huge issue in 2012 and I didn't want to have a repeat of that experience. This year, I was prepared.  I pulled out some anti-diarrhea medicine and hoped it wasn't too late for it to have it's intended effect. During my brief break in the woods, a woman passed me by.  I never saw her again, but on plus side, the medicine did it's job.  yay!  

Happy runner girl (right before sheer-look-of-
terror-due-to-incognito-photographer runner girl)

Back on the trail, I leap-frogged with Curt from Placerville (who I'd met while waiting for Meghan at Western States) and David Lynn from San Diego (David ended up winning the Wet Waldo award).  David and I were sharing how much we both love running in the Pacific Northwest, and just after he made a positive comment about the lush mountain meadow we'd begun to run through, there was suddenly a strange noise and a large animal moved right next to me.  I screamed and lept into the air.  Turns out the 'animal' was a photographer who's shirt was the same color as a log. Luckily, David was similarly surprised and we giggled our way up the climb to the Twins AS. 

I had been looking forward to Twins all morning, knowing I'd see Tia Tejona (a.k.a. Gaby) and Lobo (a.k.a. Frank) there - I so miss my Corvallis running friends! and being at Waldo I almost felt like I'd never moved away. It was here that I discovered that soup was my magic-food of the day.  Nothing else on the table looked edible, but some broth and noodles?  heaven.

In the 5 miles down to Charlton, I started noticing my quads.  Still a long way to go and a lot of downhill left. Was this a bad sign? No point in worrying about it now - and I worked on focusing on the smell of the fir forest, the soft trail under my feet, and the dappled light coming through the canopy. Before I knew it, I turned into the Charlton Lake campground where I met up with Mac Smith who was going to pace me to the finish.  Charlton was great - Torro (a.k.a. Dennis) and Ardilla (a.k.a. Pam) were so encouraging - and excited for me and how well my day was going. Before I knew it, my pack was refilled, I was fueled up, and Mac and I were headed down the trail to 4290.

I gave Mac the debrief of the day to that point and told him that although I had asked how far ahead the 3rd place woman was, I wasn't set on catching her ... and in the back of my mind, I was still wondering if I was going to blow up.  Did I just stupidly go out way too fast?

The trip to the 4290 AS was relatively smooth. After more soup, ice in my pack, and some ice water on the head and neck (it was Mac's suggestion to ice off the neck - I believe I let out a moan at that point, it felt so good), we were on our way back to the Twins. I had prepped Mac that I need to eat about every 45 minutes, but am pretty bad at making myself eat, especially when I get tired.  Mac was great.  He set his alarm to go off every 45 minutes and wouldn't let me argue back. Mac chatted when I felt chatty, followed perfectly behind when I wanted, led me up the hill when I asked, offered positive feedback when I had good sections, and helped me stretch out my quads a few times when I wasn't able to get the leverage on my own (which he described to some folks at an AS as 'putting her against a tree' - another good example of how things said while running with friends can be dangerous taken out of context).  In other words, he was the perfect pacer - I'm so grateful for his help.

After some more encouragement from Tia Tejona and Lobo, we were back down the trail on our way to Maiden Lake.  It was getting harder and harder to get started after each little break, and this time, just as my legs were starting to loosen up again, I felt a sharp pain go up my right foot, accompanied by the sickening skin-slosh of a bad blister.  My first reaction was to stop, sit down, and try to fix it - Mac stopped me from taking off my shoe, and convinced me that my only option from here was to run on it.  I knew that he was right, but hated that he was right - because I also knew that I was only going to do more damage over the next 13 miles.  So much for sandal season.

I was passed by a woman during my little foot-pain pity-party and now found myself in 5th place.  I told Mac I was actually kind-of glad that I was now in 5th, as now I didn't feel like I needed to think about chasing down 3rd.  Turns out even if I had wanted to, there wasn't much of an option anyway. The climb up Maiden Peak kicked my butt.  After Meghan suggested I could finish in 13:30, I used Lobo's handy on-line calculator to estimate my splits.  I beat every split by at least a few minutes except for between Maiden Peak AS (which is actually 3 miles below the summit) and Maiden Lake AS, where I was slower by 10 minutes. 

Eating my oreo on top of Maiden Peak, with super-pacer
Mac Smith behind me.

We reached the summit of Maiden Peak just after the wedding - so happy for the couple!  Monkey Boy offered me some supportive words, then started lecturing me about my color, my pulse, drinking more, eating more. The lecture was actually enough to put some fight back in me and after telling him to back-off - I headed down the trail. Mac cautioned me to take it easy on the technical section heading down leap of faith, and I certainly wasn't going to argue with him. Now was not the time to fall.  Once we were back on smoother trails, I was able to pick up the pace into the Maiden Lake AS.  Alas, not fast enough as I was passed by yet another woman.  ugh.  6th.  okay, I may not minded dropping into 5th, but I had started to care enough that I didn't want to fall any further back in the ranking.

Despite not wanting to lose much more time, I indulged myself a bit at the Maiden Lake AS, drinking some soup and sitting in a chair for just a minute or two to rest the feet and legs. Then we were off. Just 7.5 miles left, mostly downhill.  I looked at my watch.  In my slightly dazed and confused state, I momentarily forgot how to tell time, and misinterpreting 11:50 for 11.5, told Mac that I might be able to make it to the finish in 13 hours.  No, he said.  In fact, he didn't even think 13:30 was possible - but probably 14.  By then, I realized my math error, but didn't realize he was making his own.  14 hours?  what?  did he really think I was going that slow?  seriously?  That was the last bit of fire I needed. I put my head down and ran (at least, it felt like running, though on most days, I would count the pace as a jog).  At the little uphills, I started counting.  I had to run at least 20 paces before walking. Most of the time, it was enough to get me to the top. There were some moments of grunting and some moments of me letting out little nonsensical snippets of song -- but I ran.  I only stopped for a brief walk break once, and unlike 2 years ago, I didn't burst into tears 3 miles from the finish.  Instead, I announced to Mac when my Garmin hit 60 miles, and a few minutes later, Mac told me 1.5 left to go.  Then 1.  Then 1/2. Then one last right turn, the ski lift and finish tent were in sight, I let out an 'oh god' and did my best to sprint to the finish, with Mac's encouraging words behind me.

I crossed the line in 13:15, 6th place woman, and was surrounded by the smiling faces of Meghan and my Corvallis friends. Happy. I honestly did not think a finish this fast was possible.  Meghan's 13:30 was my best day prediction - I thought 14:30 was more realistic.  A lot of factors likely led to the good day - the smooth trails, relatively cool temperatures, good training (including a lot of miles in the high country), more experience at longer distances…. but what I think is almost most important is what I’ve learned about attitude. It’s amazing the difference it can make accepting the pain and fatigue (as a natural consequence and something that’s okay) vs. falling into the downward mental spiral thinking negatively about the experience.

Huge thanks to everyone who helped make Waldo such a great race ... Meghan for both putting on such a great race and for being such an awesome coach – both in terms of the training and emotional support, Monkey Boy, Hannah, Craig, and all the other Waldo volunteers; Pam Smith for watching over me as I waddled to my car after the finish; and most definitely to Mac for making the last half of the race so much more enjoyable than it would have been otherwise.