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.

One foot in front of the other

Putting one foot in front of the other, gaining perspective... a lot of different titles for this blog post came to mind.  It could just as easily be titled "ramblings".

This winter, I spent a lot of hours training for the Colorado Marathon, held in Ft. Collins the beginning of May. This was going to be it ... the race where I was going to break 3:30.  My marathon the previous fall had been a P.R., and I felt even more fit, my training had been much more marathon specific, and the course was a net-downhill.  

The night before the race, I was a little more nervous and on edge than normal (and I'll admit, I get a bit edgy before races anyway). I attribute it to two causes - first, this race meant a lot to me.  Second - and maybe more important for what happened the following day, I had been under a huge amount of emotional stress the 6 days prior.  I had the opportunity (a wonderful opportunity, really) to attend a leadership development program. I'm still a bit hesitant to say it, as I am still scared of losing touch with the experience, but I do believe that the course was life changing.  Of course, change usually comes with it's share of stress, and this one had plenty.  On top of that, there was a lot of work stress that I had to deal with in the evenings after the leadership sessions.  All of that added up to me being a bit more emotionally fragile than normal.  

That said, race morning, I woke up, went through my routine, and felt great - so ready to go. The race was super well organized, and there were several huge buses waiting to take us up the Poudre River Canyon.  Several nervous-bladder porta-potty stops later, we were on the starting line, then we were off ... heading down the canyon as the sun began to rise.

I felt great. My pace was on target, I was drinking (hand-held bottle) well, and taking a couple good swallows of gel from my flask every 45 minutes.  It was a fairly warm morning (at least warmer than we'd had in quite a while) so I also took an few S-caps spaced an hour or so apart. I was actually ahead of the 3:30 pace group, but that seemed okay -- I didn't seem to be working *too* hard.  At the half-marathon point, I stopped by a porta-potty, and the 3:30 pace group passed me just as I came out (my half-marathon split on the race webpage is 1:45 - and the timing mats were after the porta-potties).  I figured that I needed to at least catch up with them if I was going to meet my goal, but I also knew that there were still 13 miles left, which gave me plenty of time to catch up. So, rather than sprint to meet them, I decided to pick up the pace just a bit, figuring I'd catch up with them in a few miles.

When I still had my wheels under me during the Colorado Marathon

I never did.  Around mile 20, the wheels came off.  I'd been slowing a bit before then, but there was a point at which it felt like suddenly ... I don't know how to describe it other than I was done.  I've bonked before; I've been overheated before; I've been exhausted both physically and emotionally before ... I know those places.  This was different.  My body simply didn't want to run anymore.  My pace went from 7:30-8:30 minutes per mile to barely under 10 minutes per mile. I put water on my head - it didn't work. I drank more - didn't help. I ate more - nope, nothing. So I plodded.  I plodded along until the last bit through town, where I tried to look like I'd been running.

I finished in 3:39:38.  This is actually my second fastest marathon, and still a Boston qualifier - so really, not too bad.  However, I'd expected so much more out of myself and had worked so hard... and was sure that I was prepared.  I was very much disappointed; which is why it has taken me almost 3 months to write about it. 

My awesome coach, Meghan, suggested that my anti-diuretic hormone may have gotten out of whack.  Something was certainly off.  (note to those not used to discussing bodily functions ... skip to the next paragraph).  I was hydrating well the rest of the day, but not peeing much at all.  That night though ... sheesh.  I was up several times, peeing a ton each time ... and that continued through the next day.

Lessons learned?  That's been the other hard part of this experience.  There wasn't one definitive thing that I can say I did right or wrong.  Other than that I underestimated the toll that such an emotional experience (combined with the travel and different schedule) would have on my system and performance.

So... one foot in front of the other.

Leaving Bath Rd. A.S. with Meghan during Western States 100.

The benefit of being done with road marathon training is it released me to get back on the trails, back in the high country.  My first big post-marathon event was pacing Meghan in Western States 100.  I feel so lucky to be have once again been a part of the race.  It is so amazing to see what people are capable of not just physically, but very much emotionally.  Nick Clark, a top 10 from last year - reported to be dropping at ForestHill and ended up taking a prolonged break at an aid station.  Meghan passed him at the aid station, then he came back to pass her and finish strong in the end.  Matt Keyes, who had to walk it into the finish over many miles due to trashed legs.  Even Meghan, who had a rough day, but finished 8th (even if it was with a lean).

I'll admit - it's kind-of fun to get a podium finish. 

I came back inspired, and reinvigorated.  I ran our local 4th of July 10km and came in 2nd (woman).  Not bad for it being just a speed workout!  And since have had a lot of fun exploring new trails in the mountains in this state I currently call home.

This weekend is Mt. Werner 50km, then Waldo 100km in mid-August and Run Rabbit Run 50 miler in September.  Then ... who knows.  We'll see where my feet take me.

The North Face Endurance Challenge

One of my professional conferences is always the second week of December in San Francisco. Conveniently, the North Face Endurance Challenge Trail races in San Francisco are held the weekend just before that.  I figured that since I was already heading out there, I might as well add one more race to my 2013 season.

I signed up for the marathon (the longest distance still open when I registered).  As has become my habit lately, I never really looked at the elevation profile.  Luckily, my coach did, and in the weeks leading up to the race, Meghan had me doing several long hill repeats.  The week before the race, I was feeling unmotivated to race - ice, snow, and strong winds had made some of my long runs feel less-than-inspiring, and I was just generally feeling tired.  Ross suggested that I just run the race, and not focus on racing the race.  That seemed like a decent alternative and thinking about that as an option helped me feel a bit more excited as I added extra running clothes to my suitcase.

The morning of the race, I ended up on one of the first shuttle-buses to the start.  Although I managed to stay fairly warm waiting for the start, my feet were numb by the time they lined us up at the starting line.

After a few little ups and downs, we started the first big climb of the day.  Normally on a climb this long and relative steepness, I'd start power-hiking.  However, I was able to run and still keep my heart rate under control.  Was this the benefit of living at 5400' and now racing at sea level?  I think I started feeling my feet about half-way up.  I found myself passing quite a few people, but since they'd started us in two waves, it was hard to tell what my place was.

So much for 'just running'.  I was feeling great and seemed to be near the front of the pack.  The competitor in me took over as I briefly entertained the thought that maybe I could place in my age group?  The first big downhill, I let myself go and really felt the benefit of the hill repeats (with a focus on running down at race pace) that I'd done in the weeks prior to the race.  Some more ups, some more downs, then back to the first hill around mile 9.  I was still feeling great - strong, and just really enjoying running.  I did eventually hit quad death - or close to it.  Should I have hung back a bit on the previous downhills?  But, happily, I was still able to keep up a fairly good pace - though I'll admit that the last 4 miles or so dragged on.

Given our staggered start and the overlap with the other races, I had no clue how I did compared to the others in my race.  However, I still finished happy with how I ran.  I felt like I'd run hard and run well the entire distance.  Since I left shortly after I finished to head out to Cool to visit Meghan; it wasn't until the next day that I saw on the website that I finished 2nd in my age group!  Time of 4:56:19, and 17th out of 84 women.

Other details:  I managed my calories well (eating two big mouthfuls of EFS every 45 minutes and drinking Gu Bru in my back and coke at the aid stations.  Shoes:  Montrail bajadas, though something lighter/more flexible would have been a better choice (maybe even road shoes?).  And as with the last few races, a big thank-you to Coach Meghan for her great advice and encouragement!