Javelina Jundred 2017

My running season was supposed to peak with Pine to Palm 100 (P2P) the end of September. The timing worked out really well - Ross and I recently bought a house in Olympia that in many ways is our dream home, but is also an older home in need of a decent amount of work. The plan was to run P2P, then focus on getting the house ready for winter. Then the fires hit ... between horrendous air quality and the need to reroute the race, Hal (the race director) cancelled P2P this year. I totally supported his decision - those fighting the fires didn't need to add a bunch of crazy runners to their list of logistical hurdles. I also knew that if the race had been held in those conditions, my asthmatic lungs likely wouldn't have been able to handle the smoke.

While I supported the decision, it also introduced a new dilemma. P2P was supposed to be my Western States qualifier and there were few races left in the year that were on the qualifying list. I also really didn’t have a whole lot of time to keep training at the level needed for a 100 miler. After way too long debating my relatively few options, I realized that best was the one I was illogically avoiding -  going back to Javelina.

Besides still being open for entries, I know the race – I’ve figured out the logistics for the area, and I’m really familiar with the course. Since it’s relatively flat, it also allowed me to focus a bit less on spending a lot of time running hills, like I would for most other long ultras.

Meghan helped me put together a training plan that accommodated my life’s other obligations. I had two longer speed workouts each week (total run distance of 10-12 miles each). I ran my long runs on Tuesdays after work – because of the limited time, these ended up being mostly on roads, but I did try to get in as many hills as I could. These runs were usually after riding my bike to and from work, and using my standing desk all day; I figured it improved the training quality running on fatigued legs. My weekends were spent sanding, painting, and doing other work on the house (and fitting in shorter runs when possible) - maybe not aerobic, but certainly endurance-building. Over-all, the training went pretty well, though I’ll admit I really missed my long Saturday runs in the woods.

Enjoying the desert the day before the race

Come race morning, I was a bit more nervous than normal, especially given my slightly unconventional training. I told myself that there was no need to finish under 24, all I needed to do was finish under 30 hours, which I knew I could do. Though, I still really wanted to finish under 24 hours.

The race started pretty slowly – not unexpectedly given the hundreds of runners trying to fit on a narrow single track trail. The pace picked after we turned onto the wider double-track, and I settled into an easy rhythm. The sun came up fairly quickly over the dessert, and I allowed myself a moment to take a quick photo of the sunrise. I tried to keep my pace really easy, knowing it was way too easy to go out fast on this course. I was wearing my hot-weather clothing, and by Jackass Junction, started what would become my routine at nearly every aid-station I hit during the day: soak my cotton t-shirt in a bucket of ice water, sponge ice water over my head, and add a hand-full of ice to the bandana I wore around my neck. I was able to eat pretty well, and was getting 100-200 calories per hour. Best of all, I was actually enjoying myself.

Enjoying the sunrise

Loop 1: 4:10:21

Loop 2 is where I started to notice a few things were just a bit off for the day. My stomach was definitely off - despite taking an Imodium before the start of the race, it still didn't seem to be processing food correctly, and I had to make several pit stops. I also randomly forgot to do things at aid stations – I forgot to refill my water-bottle at one (I kept a bladder of electrolyte drink in my Camelback, and carried a small bottle of plain water in one of my pack’s front pockets – the water was good for both drinking and dousing my head between aid stations), and skipped sponging down my head at another (sounds minor, but made a big difference in how I felt). Worse of all, I realized that because I'd set my Suunto GPS watch on the lowest accuracy setting in order to have the longest battery life, my watch was doing a horrible job calculating my distance and pace; and at some point, I bumped one of the buttons and accidentally turned my watch off for 20 minutes or so. That all meant that I only had a vague idea of how fast I was running and how long I'd been running for. I tried to tell myself it was all okay, because I really just needed to finish under 30 hours, and I was certainly under that pace, but I couldn't help it - I knew I was capable of sub-24 and so I spent the rest of the race obsessively trying to calculate my pace and splits (which became harder and harder to do as the long hours on the trail took their toll on my ability to do even the most basic math).

Loop 2: 8:15:14 (4:05 for the loop)

Heading into Jeadquarters after loop 2, I knew I need to do a bit more to take care of myself before heading out for loop 3. To deal with some hot spots that were threatening to become blisters, I took the time to change socks and apply Squirrel's Nut Butter to the my feet. I’d brought a larger pair of shoes to change into, but my feet weren't as swollen as I’d expected, so I decided to not change shoes. Happily, the care I took with my feet paid off – I ended up with only tiny blisters under my big toes at the end of the race … a HUGE improvement over previous years (both here at Javelina and at other long races). I also took another Immodium, hoping that would fix my intestinal issues.

Happy runner as the sun starts getting lower in the sky.

I actually felt pretty positive heading into loop 3. Although it was hot at the start of the loop, I was staying pretty cool. My feet felt quite a bit better with the fresh socks and SNB. I was also still able to eat fairly well, so felt good about my caloric intake. Soon enough, the soon was getting lower in the sky, the temperatures started to cool off, and the stars came out in the desert. So pretty. I joined the coyotes in howling at the moon.

Loop 3: 12:43:55 (4:29 for the loop)

Back at Jeadquarters between loops 3 and 4, I changed out of my cotton t-shirt into my clean and dry Squirrel's Nut Butter shirt (seriously, that stuff rocks – enough that I’m more than happy to advertise for them). I tied my arm warmers, to my pack, switched from my hat to a buff, and put on my waist light. I don’t remember spending a lot of time at the aid station, but must have been there quite awhile – I crossed the timing mat around 12:44, but heard them announcing the front runner approaching at a record setting pace. Reagan Patrick ended up finishing in 13 hours and 1 minute – did I really spend nearly 15 minutes in the aid station???? …and seriously, he finished 100 miles in just over 13 hours ??!!?? I can’t even imagine maintaining that pace for that long.

I felt a bit low heading back into the night, so gave Ross a call as I walked up the trail, sipping on my cup of soup. Ross encouragingly told me that I was probably feeling a bit off because it had been so hot, and I'd likely feel better as the night cooled off. I started slowly jogging along as we talked, and yes, I started to feel a bit better. 

Unfortunately, the improvement only lasted for a few miles. I started having difficulty getting food down during the hike and jog up to Jackass Junction (the midway aid station). Instead of eating about 100 calories every 1/2 an hour, I started either taking small “sips” from a gel or eating one energy chew every 10 – 15 minutes. My other stomach issues still had not resolved, so I took my 3^rd Imodium for the day at Jackass. I also tried to eat just about every on the table at Jackass – and spat most of it out when it made my stomach lurch. Luckily, I could drink coke and eat a bit of ramen. I spent a lot of the rest of the loop obsessing over time – I still felt like I didn’t have a good sense of how well I was running.

Loop 4: 17:56:11 (5:13 for the loop)

Back at Jeadquarters, I tried to find something at the aid station that looked good to eat. Previously I’d downed a San Pellegrino each time I came through Jeadquarters (I find them super easy to drink and so an easy way to get both hydration and calories), but this time I skipped drinking my San Pellegrino, opting instead for a few cups of coke. Soda became my main source of calories the remainder of the race.

I would love to say I rallied for the last lap, and headed out of Jeadquarters at least at a slow jog. Instead, I found myself walking, telling myself I’d start running again on the downhill after Jackass. But once through Jackass, it felt like every time I tried to start running, my legs sent back a clear signal that no, they really did not want to run. I tried to power walk – and it turns out they weren’t too happy doing that, either. So I settled on simply walking. That wasn’t such a great solution either, though. The night had cooled off significantly, and my arm warmers weren’t enough to keep me warm at the slow pace. Worse yet, I let myself mentally indulge in negativity.

I was in such a bad, negative spiral. I started thinking about the possibility of sitting at the next aid station for awhile, trying to warm up. I knew it was only a few miles to the finish from there, but didn’t remember quite how far, and at my pace, even just a few miles would take forever. I recalled Stephanie Howe retelling how, as she was struggling at last year’s Western States, her husband, Zach, told her it was a nice night for a moonlit walk. I tried to embrace that attitude, and yes, it was a nice night, but I was tired and cold ….

And then a train of three men came behind me … “come one, sub-24! Join us! We’re running a minute, walking a minute! Join us!” I mumbled back that I didn’t think I could, but when they started to run on their next interval, I tried to join them. I couldn’t keep up. However, I found that while I couldn’t match their running pace after walking, once I kept running to try to catch back up to them, it felt good to just keep running. Instead of walking during the next walk interval, I just kept running.

Soon enough, I found that not only was I able to keep running, but I was running faster than the men who had been my inspiration to start moving again. As I passed them, I thanked them for giving me the much needed kick in the ass.

I tried to get through the last aid station as fast as possible. Another stop in the porta-potty, a quick cup of coke, then back down the trail. I still felt like I was running well. This certainly wasn’t my 2^nd wind … more like my 10^th … 20^th? Whatever. My mind had switched to “just keep running”.

3rd sub-24 finish at Javelina!

I only really slowed down twice in the last 6 or 7 miles; once when I hit a soft sandy wash, followed by a decent uphill, and another time when I didn’t recognize the trail and worried that I’d gone off course. But those were minor blips, and soon enough, I was back in Jeadquarters, crossing the finish line in 23 hours, 26 minutes, and 56 seconds (21st woman!).

In hindsight, there were a few critical areas where I messed up a bit…

1.    While I still think it’s good to have a few different levels of goals for a race, I went into this one almost convincing myself that I’d only be hitting my slowest, “c” goal. I should have believed more in myself and my training.

2.    Crew and/or a pacer would have really helped. Other than my one call to Ross, I didn’t have anyone to help me problem solve or pull me out of my negative spin.

3.    When I started struggling, I concluded my race was over. If I’d followed the advice I’ve given others in the past, I would have taken the time to figure out what was wrong and do what needed to be done to recover. In some respects, that’s what my long period of walking was … I think it gave my legs a chance to recover a bit, thus enabling my ability to run the last several miles.

To give myself credit, there were a few areas I did get right…

1.    I applied Squirrel’s Nut Butter anywhere I could potentially chafe and reapplied – and had no problems. Such a hug different compared to my experience with other products.

2.    Clothing – wearing a cotton shirt during the day definitely helped keep me cool and it felt great changing into a clean and dry shirt at night.

3.    Carrying both electrolytes and water. Having plain water was great for cooling off, rinsing my face, and getting a break from all the sweet liquids and foods.

4.    My feet – Before the face, I filed down my big toe nails, and taped my big toes. During the race, I wore a thinner pair of injijis, then ½ ways through, lubed my feet and changed socks. I ended up with only small blisters under my big toenails – a huge improvement compared to long races in the past.

Huge thanks to coach Meghan for the awesome advice, Ross for putting up with my crazy and the encouragement when I really needed it, and Squirrel’s Nut Butter for making an amazing product.

White River 50 mile

Sitting on my desk at work is a souvenir from my recent Ragnar Northwest Passage experience .... a magnet (each team prints a bunch of magnets that they use to "tag" the other teams' vehicles) with the image of a sloth riding the unicorn, and the phrase "onwards at a reasonable pace" at the top. I am obsessed with this magnet. I feel like it is a life lesson I need to keep reminding myself of ... yes, relentless forward motion, but not too fast, not too slow ... and always with a bit of magic. I bring this up because it is a lesson I completely forgot during last weekend's White River 50 miler.

I was really looking forward to White River. This race has been on my bucket list for a long time. Since the race consistently pulls in a bunch of speedy people, I didn't expect to be as competitive as I have in my past few races, but I still thought I'd do pretty well and was just generally looking forward to running for several hours on forested trails in the shadow of Mount Rainier.

My training had generally gone pretty well, and I was feeling pretty good until a week before the race. My legs felt really sluggish during my fairly short taper runs; it felt as if I wasn't tapering at all. We were under air quality warnings that week, thanks to smoke from fires in British Columbia settling over our area, but since my runs were short and in the relatively clearer morning, I didn't think that could be the issue. That said, I was also worried - I've had asthma all my life, and while I've gotten a lot better at managing it, I had an attack bad enough after last year's Waldo 100km to pop a rib out of place.

Camp Oly Trail Runners (pictured: Ollie, Craig, Ross, me and Dave)

Despite the bit of worry and doubt, I was still very much looking forward to the race. Ross and Ollie joined me on the adventure and we headed up to the Buck Creek campground near Crystal Mountain Friday afternoon. We met up with Herb, Craig, and Dave (Rick would join us later), then headed to the pre-race briefing. I loved watching the short movie from the race several years ago. Our gear has improved so much since then (the days of the waist belt water-bottle holders) - and at the same time, a few of the runners who were competitive then are still competitive now (e.g. Krissy Moehl).

The only major glitch of the evening was Ollie. Our pup is a pretty vigilant/anxious dog and as we settled in for the night, he tried to bark at every small noise outside the tent. I say "tried" because he was wearing his bark collar, which keeps him from fully barking, but he's figured out a level at which he can bark, but not set off the shock. Not only was the barking keeping me awake, but I was stressing out that it would wake up the other runners trying to get a few hours of sleep. I eventually got him to settle down, but the night was a lot less restful than I had hoped it'd be.

Dave, Rick, Herb and I - we all look so happy and fresh!

All too soon it was race morning! I woke up at 4, went through my routine, and all seemed good. The race started, and I was able to comfortably keep my pace about 1/4 through the pack .... until I wasn't. It's a bit hard to describe how I felt, but the closest word to it is I simply felt tired. Why was I so tired? I've gotten less sleep the night before a race and felt fine. I started my mental triage - food? No, I ate well in the morning, and although I didn't eat as soon as I probably should have, that was because I still felt super full; I started "sipping" on a packet of Jason's hazelnut-chocolate nut butter after about 45 minutes, so was taking in calories, and had calories in the Skratch drink in my pack. I should be fine calorie-wise. Water? nope, drinking well. Perhaps elevation? I've now lost all of my altitude benefits from living in Boulder. Maybe? but nothing I could do about that, so, I just kept going.

I was hoping to get into a nice cruise on the downhill from Corral Pass, but had a hard time finding a rhythm. Craig passed me about half-way down; I didn't dare try to catch him; I've fallen one too many times trying to keep up with the guys on runs this year. Finally I came to the half-way point, the Buck Creek aid station, which was essentially at the start/finish line. I had told Ross to not worry about meeting me at any of the aid stations, and I'm actually glad he didn't. If he'd been at Buck Creek, there's a good chance I would have talked myself into quitting. I just really wanted to stop running and hang out with my husband and dog. Instead, I changed into a cotton t-shirt (I seriously love wearing cotton when it's hot), grabbed another Nathan's nut-butter packet, and headed back down the trail.

This is where things really went down hill for me. As I made the slow climb up to Sun Top, instead of accepting that it was a tough climb and I was simply having a rough day, I let myself go down a very negative spiral. By the time I hit the top of the peak, I was in full pitty-party. I had talked myself into not running any more races this year (namely my Western States qualifier, Pine to Palm next month). In fact, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to do any more races longer than 50km in the future. The few high-points - picking ripe huckleberries as I neared the top, then eating some amazingly delicious wood-fired pizza on the peak - weren't enough to pull me out of my mental cave. As I headed down the long gravel road, I could see Craig just ahead of me, and briefly entertained the idea of trying to catch up with him. But again, the desire to not open up any of my recently scabbed wounds took over and I just tried to settle into a pace that felt speedy but reasonable.

Trying to smile for Rick and Herb

After a very long hour, I finally got to the last aid station. Herb and Rick were there, having decided to call it a day at Buck Creek. It was great to see some familiar faces. They encouraged me to catch up with Craig who was "only 3 minutes ahead" ...but I was really enjoying my graham cracker/nutella 'sandwich' and coke. With some reluctance, I headed down the trail. The last 7 miles were rolling through the forest along the river. I should have really enjoyed this. I should have been able to at least jog with flats and downhills. Instead, for two hours, I shuffle-jogged a few steps, walked a few more, then repeated. I had nothing left.

Finally I made the turn off the trail onto the road, then into the campground. Ross and Ollie were there to cheer me in, and I made one last feeble push into the finish. 11 hours, 37 minutes, 44 seconds.

In hind-sight, I should have stopped at the first aid station, waited for Craig or Dave, and gone on and run with them the rest of the day - I would have at least enjoyed myself a lot more. I've done these things enough now to have a pretty good sense of where the race went wrong, and in this case, the best answer I can come up for the day is that I simply wasn't getting enough oxygen thanks to the combo of asthmatic lungs (I took a ridiculous number of hits off my inhaler) and smoke.

A week, some perspective, and some good runs (in clear air!) later, and I've reversed my decision to not run any more races this year. If anything, my experience at White River has just reinforced my belief that so much of succeeding at these long distances is in the head. Here's hoping that my next race is filled with a bit more magic as make my way down the trail at a reasonable speed

Picture credits to Herb and Dave! and huge kudos to Squirrel Nut Butter for helping me stay chafe-free despite being drenched most of the day. ...and thanks to Coach Meghan for making sure I was able to cross the finish line even if my lungs and head weren't in the same place my legs were.

Capital City Marathon

The morning of the Capital City Marathon, I was up early to go through my pre-race routine of food, tea, etc.. Although the race webpage insisted there was plenty of parking, I had a hard time believing it, so I drove down early, figuring it was warm enough to hang out in the car and drink my tea while I waited for it to get closer to starting time. After sitting there for about 10 minutes, I realized that when I changed my mind about which shirt I'd wear, I forgot to transfer my race number. Crraaap. Luckily, I only live about 10 minutes from the start. I dashed home, grabbed my number, then headed back to the race, figuring that by the time I got back, the parking situation would surely be worse.... I really didn't need to worry - I got a spot the next block down from where I'd previously parked. Small-town marathon. Right.

Before the start, I met up with some of the Oly Trailrunners that I've gotten to meet in the past few weeks. A few group photos, general milling about, then we broke off to find what felt like appropriate positions in the group of starters.

Moving to a new city and starting a new job meant that I didn't hit all of my training goals, but over-all I was feeling pretty good. When I'd looked over the times from the past few years of the race, I realized that the top women's times for my age group were actually within the range of what I'd been aiming to run. I'd been doing my long (1-2 mile intervals) speed workouts at 7:20-7:30 pace. Coach Meghan suggested I start at 7:45, then if I were feeling good, pick it up around mile 18. I still had a hard time believing this could be competitive time, but decided to start near the front.

Nice, casual start to the race.

The race start was actually pretty mellow - none of the usual jockeying to be on the start line. When we reached a longer straight section along East Bay drive, after winding along Olympia's downtown waterfront, I realized that I could still see the car pacing the lead woman, and it wasn't that far ahead. Huh. What if I actually tried to race this thing? While I didn't want to deviate too much from Meghan's recommendation, I also had fun thinking about what it would mean to push the edge a bit.

At one of the turns, as we headed out to Boston Harbor, one of the volunteers told me that I was in 4th place. 4th? wow. cool. Of course, as far as I knew, there were several women just a bit behind me, so while it was a bit of a boost to hear that, I tried to balance keeping my pace in check while also pushing myself just a bit. Push myself within reason? I tried to run the uphills with purpose, keeping my cadence high and pace up, but trying to not let my heart rate increase too much. I then used the downhills to mix up my stride and recover a bit as I let gravity pull me down.

Passing by Priest Point Park

The aid stations (placed every 2 miles) were great, with super friendly volunteers. I was carrying a hand-held bottle with Skratch drink mix, so I actually didn't stop at all of them. However, I was taking a gel every 30 minutes/4 miles, so I got into a nice routine of taking a gel a quarter mile before every-other aid station, getting a cup of water to wash the gel down, and another cup of water to throw over my head. While it wasn't too hot, it was the hottest day I'd run in in quite awhile and I wanted to be proactive with staying cool.

Around mile 12-14, Herb, whom I met from Oly Trailrunners, caught up to me on his bike. It was so great to have him come by and give some encouraging words. Brian, whom I'd also met through trail running had been near Priest Point Park cheering us on, too.

Around mile 17, the 3rd place woman came into view. It was a bit earlier than I had planned on picking up the pace, but I decided that if I was going to pass her, I needed to do it with conviction. I put a bit more effort into my pace, then passed her without looking back. I was now in 3rd.

A turn to two more, and I was now joined by the remainder of the 1/2 marathon runners/walkers. It was a bit awkward to negotiate the larger crowds on the road, but it was also nice to be getting around more people cheering everyone on.

A long, relatively gradual hill started at mile 20 - and I could once again see the pace car for the lead woman. It actually wasn't that far away. It would take some effort to catch it, but we still had 6 miles to go. Could I?

The night before, despite my best efforts (maybe because?) to get a good night's sleep (I was planning on getting up at 5am), I lay awake tossing and turning well past 11pm (past midnight? - I don't know, I was afraid to look at the clock, which would only stress me out more). I got up and grabbed my copy of Run Gently Out There by John Morelock, hoping that reading a few pages would help me get to sleep. In one of the short essays I read, he recounted an article by George Sheehan in which Sheehan described the need to run a track workout so hard that collapsing on the infield grass at the end of each lap was the goal.

The finish! 

I thought about that line and picked up the effort some more. The gradual hill led to a 1 1/2 mile descent, then another hill - this one shorter, but steeper. Along the way, various spectators told me that I was in 3rd and to "reel them in". At this point I couldn't do much more than acknowledge their comments. Then near the top of the hill, around mile 24, I saw one of my coworkers - so nice to see him out there!

Another turn and it was all downhill to the finish. Herb came by again and encouraged me along, and I tried to put everything I had left into my legs. I really did feel nauseous. Just a few blocks from the finish, I heard them announce the 2nd place woman crossing the finish. Crap, not quite fast enough. But just a minute later, I crossed the finish line. The look of pain as I crossed the finish line is pretty accurate. I didn't quite collapse (and luckily didn't puke), but I did need to find something to lean on for quite awhile.

....and it felt great. It felt great to run that hard for that long. It felt great to push myself and test my limits. It felt great to have the support of new friends on the course ... and to celebrate in each others' successes over beers after we were all done.

Glass dish for 1st in my age group

My finishing time was 3:22:57 - 7:44 per mile pace. This was a marathon PR for me by about 7 minutes. I took home the award for first in my age group (40 - 44 years old). I was also the 3rd woman (out of 142), 2nd masters woman, and 21'st out of 300 total runners. I'll admit, there could have been some remaining benefits from living and training at elevation the past 5 years, but that just gives me incentive to test myself again in the future!

Thanks to Coach Meghan for the great prep for the race, Oly trailrunners for being so welcoming, and Squirrel's Nut Butter for keep my skin in one piece!