Javelina jundred

I’ll be honest – I wasn’t actually that interested in running a 100 miler. I like the idea of running all day (and maybe part of the night) in a beautiful place, then going to bed and getting a good night's sleep. I am not a fast enough runner that I could do that with a 100 miler. However, I got caught up in the Western States magic and so found myself signing up for Javelina Jundred as my qualifier for this year.

I had grand plans for running this summer – using my long runs as a way to explore new areas of the Colorado high country, running a new 100km in the Never Summer range of Colorado, then going back to Run Rabbit Run 50 miler. All of those had to be jettisoned as I tried to recover from a bad case of plantar fasciitis (from what I can tell, caused by running too many miles in 0-drop shoes too quickly after making the switch). While I still got in some fun long runs in the mountains, a month before Javelina, I switched to flatter trails that wouldn’t put as much strain on my foot and traded out half of my runs for road bike rides. This helped with the foot, but meant that I was coming into Javelina a bit compromised – I felt like my foot was at about 92% and, similarly, my training for distance was good, but sub-optimal. Not how I wanted to approach my first 100 miler.

Chollas - or jumping cacti - are the bright green, fuzzy looking plants to the left.

I flew into Phoenix Thursday night, giving me a chance to have a relaxed day before the race. Friday morning, I headed to “Jeadquarters” (the start/finish line for the 15 mile loop, and where they had tents set up for those camping overnight) and went for an easy 2 mile run on the course. It had rained the night before, and the smell of the desert was amazing. While I’ll always be a tree-hugger, I found myself really enjoying the beauty of the desert – the stately saguaros, the chollas and ocotillos that seemed to glow in the sun.

I passed the rest of the day checking in, picking up some food for lunch and dinner, and generally trying to relax. My pre-race nerves kicked up a bit so I let myself get a beer – but I limited myself to a Coors-light – that barely counts as beer, right?

I was in bed at 8pm, but it was another hour or so until I finally fell asleep. I slept fitfully until about 2:45am, then got up… earlier than I’d planned, but at least I wouldn’t be in a rush getting to the start line. I got to the parking lot around 4:15 and got on the first shuttle that would take us to Jeadquarters as coyotes howled in the distance.

The next 1 ½ hours went by fairly quickly, and soon enough 500+ people were lined up at the start, waiting for the count-down. At 6am we were off, heading down the trail I’d spend the next almost-24 hours on.

Loop 1, 2:42:30

This had to have been taken early - I still look fresh!

This race is run on the 15 mile Pemberton Trail at Fountain Hills Regional Park east of Phoenix. The trail is relatively flat – only 600 feet of elevation gain each loop – but this is also part of what makes it a hard race. It seems pretty runnable, and people have a tendency to go out too fast and blow up later on. I had this in my mind so positioned myself about ½ way though the pack and tried to settle in to a nice easy trot. I walked hills that felt relatively flat, and tried to just settle in and enjoy the experience. I was eating every 30 minutes – focusing on real food (potatoes dipped in salt, oreos – okay, not normally defined as real food, but at least not a gel, potato chips and avocado, peanut butter and jelly sandwich triangles). I had a cup of ginger-ale at each aid station, and intentionally stayed away from the coke, wanting to hold off on caffeine until the evening when I knew I’d need the boost. These first 15 miles went by fairly fast. I was aware of my foot, but the pain wasn’t too bad. I had a brief flare-up of pain on my inner-left ankle (an issue I’ve had the last month or so), but was able to get that to calm down with a bit of massage.  Back at Jeadquarters, I stopped by my drop bag and grabbed a bag of Skratch drink mix to top off my pack, took an Aleve, grabbed some more food, then headed out on Loop 2.

Loop 2, 3 hours for the loop, 5:42:32 cumulative

Cheesy trail selfie

We ran loop 2 in the opposite 

direction as loop 1. Halfway on my way up to Jackass Junction (the aid station at the top of the hill, 1/2-way through the loop) I stopped to take a selfie – I was having fun! I was still feeling good and consciously telling myself to slow down. The most technical part of the trail was now on the downhill coming off of Jackass Junction, making the downhill a little less enjoyable as I focused on staying upright. It wasn’t too bad this early in the race, but I made a mental note to be careful in the evening when I was more tired.

Loop 3, 3:49 for the loop, 9:31 cumulative

Loop 3 was in the hottest part of the day for me. We were lucky this year – the high temperature was in the low/mid-80s (in previous years, it has been much hotter). It still felt warm, though, and I was careful to manage my temperature - at the aid stations, I made sure to put ice in my sports bra, under my cap, and in the bandanna around my neck. Once the bandanna dried out, I tucked it under my cap to keep the sun off my ears and neck. Over-all, I was still feeling pretty good – running well on the flats and a good slow trot/fast walk up the hills. Surprisingly, I wasn’t getting too bored with the course, and didn’t yet feel the need to pull out my music, though I did randomly start singing Janis Joplin’s greatest hits about a mile before I got to Jackass Junction. Unfortunately, this was the loop were issues that would stay with me the rest of the race popped up. I started to feel blisters building  around my toenails. I thought back to Waldo 2014 and just running through the same issue – but I had many more miles to go this time, and in hindsight, wish I’d dealt with them earlier. I also started to feel mildly nauseous on this loop and it got harder and harder to stuff food down when my alarm went off. Despite the fairly enjoyable downhill trail, my mood heading to Jeadquarters from Jackass started to also head downhill. It probably would have continued that way if it weren’t for Chad Palmer who drug two coolers of frozen OtterPops onto the course. I gratefully took a stick of frozen lime yumminess and soon enough found myself back at Jeadquarters. I also heard (all in my head, of course), my friend Gabby asking me, "Leona, are you smiling?" ... which of course made me smile. Those little things helped so much.

Loop 4, 3:14 for the loop, 12:45:55 cumulative

I knew there was a good chance that I wouldn’t finish the 4^th loop before it got dark, so I grabbed my arm-warmers and headlamp while at Jeadquarters. I knew I should be enjoying myself – it was starting to cool off and the sky had a soft, almost pastel hue – but I was tired. And nauseous. And my feet hurt. I put in my earphones to listen to some music and distract myself a bit. It helped a bit, but I still wasn’t feeling great, then heading out of the Jackass Junction aid station, I kicked a rock and the pain from the impact on the now horrid blisters took my breath away. A man came up behind me and started chatting about how this race was kicking his ass – how about me? We chatted a bit, then I stopped to stretch out my quads – that actually helped how my legs felt quite a bit. But over-all, this was were things switched to mostly feeling good and having moments of struggle to things mostly feeling like a struggle with moments of feeling good. More than once I though of an email my friend Amanda had sent me a few days before. I’m sure I muttered, “just keep swimming” out loud more than once.

Loop 5, 4:49 for the loop; 17:04:23 cumulative

This loop’s time looks horrible – but I estimate that 30 minutes of that was spent in the first aid station. I had intended to have a quick in and out this time, not wanting to get sucked into the ability to call it quits and still get a 100km finishers buckle. However, I knew that if I was going to have any chance of finishing 100 miles, I had to deal with my toes. I grabbed a fresh pair of socks from my dropbag and limped over to first aid. The toes were about as bad as I’d thought, with two on my left foot and one on my right (including the big toes on both feet) in bad shape. The medic drained and taped them as I tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to eat some pizza. By the time she was done, I was shivering from being cold, so I headed back to my dropbag for a long-sleeve shirt, and some food to eat on the trail.

I felt miserable heading out of Jeadquarters. I turned off airplane mode (which I’d had my phone on to preserve batteries) and called Ross. I whined and he listened, and I felt a little better. Then I looked at the text messages my friend Tracey had been sending me through the day, which gave me another little boost. I texted her back, whining a bit, and she text back some more encouraging words. I was a bit embarrassed to be using my phone on the trail, but those communications felt like a lifeline. With that boost, I started running again up towards Jackass.

I regretted the long-sleeve shirt almost immediately after I started running – much too hot. Sigh.

About ½ mile after the first aid station in this direction, I came across a man screaming in pain – he’d gotten too close to a cholla and now had a chunk of cactus stuck in his leg. The woman he was with was about to try to pull it out with her hand when I got there. I told her to not touch it, but use two rocks as tongs. She tried, but was being much too gentle. I grabbed a stick, a rock, told the guy it was going to hurt and ripped the cactus off his leg. Unfortunately, I got a few spines in my left hand in the process. Now it was his turn to extract the cactus from me (he had better fingernails than I do). I declined the offer of this first aid kit from his companion and headed up the trail. I’m pretty sure the boost of energy I now had was from the endorphins of the cactus-encounter.

It was somewhere along this loop that I heard the coyotes howling for the first time that night. A giant orange moon had risen above the mountains a little bit earlier. I stopped, raised my head, and joined them in the chorus. Happy.

Luckily for my calorie-intake, the aid stations started serving soup and broth in the evening hours. My new routine was a cup of soup, a cup of ginger-ale, and a cup of coke at the aid stations. Since I was having a hard time eating, I was also trying to drink well from my Camelback since I had calories in there, too. While  this worked pretty well for keeping my calories up, it made for frequent stops in the porta-potties (I wasn't about to go off-trail and risk a worse cactus encounter than I'd already had) – and I started wondering if I was going to do damage to my kidneys or bladder (many tired hours alone made for more than enough time for obsessive worrying).

Loop 6, 3:19 for the loop, 21:23:05 cumulative

Coming into the race, I had planned on the following goals:

A: 20 hours (which I figured was unrealistic given my level of training coming into the race)

B: 24 hours

C: finish

I was using my foot pod to keep track of distance vs. using the GPS on my Garmin, since I wanted to preserve the batteries longer, knowing I’d need the reminder to keep fueling. Unfortunately, the foot pod was overestimating the distance traveled, and so wasn’t giving me an accurate pace. However, coming towards the end of my 5^th loop, it seemed like a 24 hour finish was still possible. I tried to focus on getting through the aid station quickly, stopping at my drop bag just long enough to change into a short-sleeve shirt and armwarmers, grab my hand-held flashlight (knowing my headlamp batteries wouldn’t last long enough), get some gels and shot-blocks, and take another Aleve to help settle some knee pain.

The loop started off pretty good – I felt much better now that I was cooler, and surprisingly, the shot blocks were tasting pretty good. It actually felt good to run (slowly) up most of the hill to Jackass Junction.  Leaving Jackass Junction, I told myself that this was the last time I was through here – but it wasn’t enough to keep my mood up. I just plain felt tired. I started thinking there was no way I was going to beat 24 hours and almost slowed down … but luckily, still had enough stubborness left to tell myself that I still had to try. The headphones went back in, and I picked up the pace as much as possible heading downhill. I started seeing the runners heading towards me wearing their glow-necklaces that indicated they were on their last lap. It helped knowing that I was about to get one, too.

Loop 7

I tried to get in and out of Jeadquarters as fast as I could. I was so happy to get my blue glow-necklace. A few more gels from my drop bag and I was back on the trail. I wasn’t able to eat the whole gel at once, but took ‘sips’ off of them every 10 minutes or so. I also scaled back on how much I was drinking out of my CamelBak as I was sick and tired of always having to pee. I don’t know if any of this was good for me or not, but it worked. I had turned off my music and was enjoying the peaceful quite of the evening and my mind was quieter than it had been in a long while - just focused on moving as fast as I could through these last several miles. I was able to jog up the hill to the turn-off onto the Tonto Trail, and was looking forward to running the nice downhill back to Jeadquarters. Nope. Legs wouldn’t have it. I could power-walk faster than I could run. So I power-walked. I thought back more than once pacing and crewing Meghan at Western States, and running the last 1 ½ miles from Robbie Point to the track with her. I definitely have a new level of understanding for how she felt then.

The last mile was a bit of a blur - left turn off of the Tonto Trail back onto Pemberton, cross the road, then enter the shoot of pop-up tents. At first, I was a little surprised to not see many people out – but of course they weren’t – any smart person was asleep!

...then there I was, making the final turns around the drop-bag area and crossing the timing mat, and I was done, with a finishing time of 23:38:52.  I was handed my big belt buckle for finishing in 24 hours, I put my hands on my knees, and cried. 

The postmortem

I definitely learned a ton - about myself (both mentally and physically), about this crazy running thing, during this experience. I am so grateful to have had the support of my friends and family - their confidence in my abilities boosted my own confidence. I am also extremely grateful for Scott and Michael at Alta Physical Therapy and Adam at Get Rolfing at helping me get through my injuries this year. ...and last, but certainly not least, my friend and coach, the Queen herself, Meghan Arbogast - I don't know if I'd have ever tried a 100 miler if it hadn't been for being a part of her crew, and her coaching and encouragement definitely helped me get across that finishing line.

What worked

·         Taking Immodium just prior to the start: I’ve had issues with runners trots on every other race longer than 40 miles. While I had to make a few pit stops late at night, things never got too … uncomfortable.

·          Squirrels Nut Butter: I have had really bad chafing in the past, and expected it to be really bad during this race due to extra salt-build up given the heat. I used Squirrel’s Nut Butter everywhere I expected friction and reapplied under the sports bra once in the afternoon. I very happily had very few issues with chafing – a first! Huge thanks to Chris Thornley for turning me onto the stuff.

My new CamelBak Circuit Hydration Vest - fit like a glove, no bounce, held what I needed it to, and 50 oz. was the perfect amount of fluid to carry for each loop.

Skratch-labs drink powder. I refilled with this every time I got back to Jeadquarters, except the last when I was trying to get in/out as fast of possible. It's not too sweet, and I never got tired of it.

I felt like I managed my salt intake well ... I started taking S-caps once every hour when things started heating up, then a few more in the evening hours.

 

What still needs tweaking

My feet!!!! Different pair of shoes for this race (Salomon Speedcross) than I wore during Waldo in 2014 (Scott Kinabalu), but I still tore up my toes. Do I need to go up a 1/2 - 1 size? Wish it weren't so expensive to experiment with new brands/styles.

A Western States Story

Last weekend, I once again had the pleasure and privilege of crewing and pacing for my friend,

Serving in the Queen's pit crew with Kelsie Clausen

Meghan Arboghast, at Western States 100. There are so many reasons why I love being a part of this race - having the opportunity to run in the beautiful northern Sierras, seeing good friends, feeling like I'm helping others, and ... possibly more than anything else, witnessing the amazing stories of human strength, courage, and commitment that play out over the 30 hours of the race.

Over the past few weeks, I've attempted to share with my non-running friends what this weekend means to me - and each time, I've felt like I came up a bit short. On that note, I wanted to write about one particular story that unfolded last weekend. By now, it has become a well known story - even making it onto NPR, but I enjoyed writing this down the day after the race and hope that at least one person out there enjoys reading this.

At 70 years-old, Gunhild Swason was attempting to become the oldest woman to finish Western States 100 (the oldest 100 mile race). She'd run this race in the past, and has run other ultra-marathons, so she is certainly in shape. However, Western States is not an easy 100 and this weekend's race was particularly difficult - the high heat (90s-100s during the day) and lack of shade along much of the course due to fires in the past few yews combined with uncharacteristic humidity resulted in much slower times and a very high "DNF" (Did not finish) rate (over 30%).

By 10am Sunday, Gunhild had yet to cross the finish line. At 11am (30 hours after the start), all racers would be pulled from the course and given a DNF, *no matter how close to the finish line they are*. At 10:43, they announced over the loudspeaker than Gunhild had just passed the last check-point, 1.2 miles from the finish. While 1.2 mi doesn't seem that long, after running for 98 miles, even the elite runners are diminished to a shuffle; it took the fastest woman a little over 15 minutes this year to run that distance; Gunhild now had only 17 minutes.

Everyone anxiously awaited - almost everyone involved with the race gathers to encourage and cheer on the runners finishing in that final hour, which is referred to as the "Golden Hour". The finish line is 3/4 of the way around the Placer High School track - the runners come through a gate in the fence, and run (usually with their crew and pacers) around the track to the finish. 

At about 10:58, Gunhild came through that gate, escorted by her crew, pacer, and friend, Robb Krar, who had earlier won first place in near course-record setting pace. She still had to run almost 1/4 of a mile to finish. The stadium exploded. Almost everyone got to their feet to cheer her on (which is saying something considering many of them had just finished running 100 miles themselves). There wasn't one person in that stadium who was not cheering for her, willing her to cross the finish line before 11am.

....and she did. She finished in 29 hours, 59 minutes, and 54 seconds. 6 second to spare. I don't know of anyone who didn't have tears in their eyes. It was one of the most inspirational things I've ever seen. Not only Gunhild's determination and perseverance, but also the force of a group of individuals - all from different backgrounds, united in caring for and believing in someone else. Even now, I can't think about it without feeling the emotion creep up.

You can see the video of the amazing finish, and read her post-race interview here: http://www.irunfar.com/2015/06/gunhild-swanson-post-2015-western-states-100-interview.html

On a side note ... at the pre-race meeting, when they introduced Gunhild (they make a special introduction of the top men and women - they'd included Gunhild because she was attempting to be the oldest woman to ever finish), the crowd cheered and applauded for her louder than they did for several of the elite women who were anticipated to be in the top 10. When she stepped back into line, she commented to Meghan, "I didn't think they'd care so much".

Fifth year at the Mac

I blame (credit?) Clem. As I caught up with my Corvallis running friends over pizza and beer, after an evening run when I was back in Oregon in December, Clem suggested that I come back for the 20^th anniversary of the MacDonald Forest 50km …and, of course, then spend the next day, Mother’s Day, with my mom. 

Really, I could blame (credit?) Clem with this little running addiction in the first place. Clem is the founder of the MacDonald Forest 50km. The reason I ran my first trail race in 1997 was that one of my friends’ mothers was training for the Mac and wanted company on training runs and races. The second trail race I ever ran was the 15km that used to be run on the same day as the 50km. That was in 1998. I've been hooked since.

The Mac is hard. 8000’ of elevation gain over 31 miles. I’ve always struggled a bit at the race, even though the trails are my ‘home’ trails. Yet I love this race. The woods are beautiful, the support is great, and the ‘competitors’ are friends. So, really, all I needed was an excuse to sign up.

The only problem is, this year, the Mac fell less than 3 week after the Boston Marathon. While the soreness in my legs had faded, I could tell the week before the Mac that my legs still hadn’t fully recovered. Just no ‘oomph’. Add to that, while I did a few mountain runs over the past few months, most of my miles were on flat to rolling trails and road, with more focus on speed work than climbs and descents. I kept telling myself that I should think of the Mac more as a fun, hard training run, than a race.

Of course, stepping up to the starting line of any race, it’s hard to not also set some challenging goals. I decided that my “A” goal would be breaking 6 hours (my fasted time is 6:03), “B” would be 6:30 (my slowest Mac was 6:33), and “C” would be to just cross the finish line still wanting to run in the future.

Fringe-cup (Tellima grandiflora)

Race morning I fell into what felt like an hold, comfortable routine. Arrive early to get a decent parking spot and cheer on the early starters. Catch up with friends, and simply just soak in the smell and feel of the forest. The race started as it has for years, A short stretch along the road, followed by a the Callaway Creek Trail then the first big climb up Powderhouse Trail. My legs felt okay, but I could tell my body wasn’t fully there … it seemed harder to keep my breathing under control (and I’m used to running at 5200’ and higher!) and while not tired, but legs didn’t feel springy, like they would after a normal taper. But I was distracted enough by my surroundings. Tall Douglas-fir creating dappled light on the forest floor, wildflowers all around – fringe-cup, iris, bleeding hearts, camas, and the singing of birds overhead. My joy of being in the woods I call home increased even more when we turned onto the Old-growth trail. I will always be in awe of the the giants along this trail.

After we crossed Lewisburg Saddle, my mental-map of the race course was no longer accurate. Instead of heading down Alpha, we headed down Horse trail, then back up Dan’s. I usually prefer to run down Dan’s and up Horse, but I was still feeling pretty good and it was fun to have a different route. 

Linda caught up to me at the top of Dimple Hill. We chatted a bit about the ‘new’ course and she said that she just had to get to the the bottom of Extendo and could then fall apart. I thought that seemed reasonable – Extendo was the 3^rd of 4 aid stations, and only one big climb left after that. Problem was, heading up Dan’s, I got the first sense for how my legs would handle the climbs later. They didn’t hurt, these just didn’t have much to give. At that point, I essentially decided that I was done trying to meet my A goal and wanted to just keep having fun on the trails.

From Dimple, we started the section referred to, quite accurately, as the maze. Despite hundreds of runs through the maze, I still don’t have all of the trails and intersections memorized; and it turns out that I've usually run the trails in the opposite direction than we were running them during the race. That, combined with the fact that my body was increasingly telling me that it really wasn’t recovered from Boston, and time seemed to suddenly slow to a turtle’s pace (or, really, my running pace slowed to a turtle’s pace). Without the mud, my time in the maze should have been relatively fast, but it seemed to take forever to make it to the top of Extendo.

Usually I love running down Extendo, a soft, sinuous dirt trail, with swooping switchbacks and a relatively gentle grade. Instead, getting down Extendo felt like a feat of will and determination. I increasingly felt nauseous and was on the verge of tears most of the way down. To be honest, I

thought more than once if I should call it a day at the aid station. While I had to admit that fatigue probably played a role, I was pretty sure that most of the crappy-feeling was from being over-heated. I had been really good about eating a gel every 45 minutes, and didn’t really feel like I was bonking. I was hydrating relatively well despite the heat, drinking both from my pack and having a few cups of coke and water at the previous aid stations. I’d been taking an S-cap every hour, and my body had previously done really well with the Skratch formula that I had in my pack, so I didn’t think that it was just an electrolyte imbalance. However, this was the hottest run I’d had since last summer; my body definitely wasn’t used to the heat, which was obvious from my swollen sausage fingers.  Ugh. No good.

Running through the larkspurs

The one bright spot on this section was running through a massive patch of larkspurs, reaching nearly to my shoulders, right before getting to the aid station. Once I finally got to the aid station, I dumped a few cups of water over my head, which alone helped relieve some of the nausea. Then, one of the aid station helpers asked me if I wanted some ice – I thought of pacing Meghan at Western States and without hesitation said yes, and dumped one cup down my sports bra and a second down my running skirt. I’m sure it looked strange, but the relief was amazing. I grabbed a few s-caps, drank some coke and a cup of water, and ate a few potatoes dipped in salt.  I spent way more time in the aid station than I wanted, and certainly wasn’t 100%, but all thoughts of quitting had finally left my brain.

Although the ‘race’ had gone out of me, I was still enjoying myself. In the miles between Extendo aid and getting back to the Saddle, I tried to focus my thoughts on the beauty of the trees, the wildflowers that were in abundance, and how lucky I was to be out there.

Once at the saddle, there were only 6 miles to go. I was able to pick up the pace heading up the road, but once we turned onto Chimney trail, my pace slowed to what felt like a plodding hike. The trail was appropriately named given the heat streaming down. Ugh. It felt like it took forever to get to the top. Once I did, a few mountain bikers told me ‘only 3 more miles’ to the finish. Normally that distance would feel so short. Normally.

Managed to run across the finish line

I managed to get my pace to sub-9 minute miles until we made our final turn to Section 36 trail. My legs had nothing left in them for going uphill, and I again slowed to a plod. I tried to channel memories of pushing myself at Boston and Waldo once we headed downhill, but that ended when I caught a foot, luckily managed to catch myself, but in the process slammed my toes into the front of my shoes so hard that the pain nearly brought me to tears.  So I slowly jogged into the finish.

6:31:14. Surprisingly, not my slowest Mac. Definitely not my fastest, but considering the conditions (my body, the heat, and what I think is a harder course than my previous finishes), I don’t feel too bad about it.  As usual, the post-race festivities were wonderful – with runners, their friends, and families stretched out on the lawn, listening to live music, and cheering on the finishers.

I was happy enough with the opportunity to spend time in the woods I consider a second home, catch up with good friends, and earn my 20^th Anniversary jacket – but then the next day, realized that this was actually my 5^th running of the Mac (not the 4^th like I’d thought).  I finally earned my mug!!!

Many Many thanks to Ken and Dennis for continuing Clem’s tradition and putting on one of the best races I’ve ever experienced; thanks to Maistro for brewing another fabulous MacAle; thanks to Meghan for coaching; and a special thanks to Clem for starting it all.

Recovery:  Wine tasting with mom on Mother's Day

My magical unicorn day

I ran my first marathon 15 years ago (1999 San Diego Rock-N-Roll, 4 hr 14 min). I cried as I crossed the finish line and have since been hooked on this crazy long-distance running thing. I've also wanted to run Boston since then. I've been close several times, but it wasn't until the 2013 Denver Rock-N-Roll Marathon that I set a PR and got my first Boston Qualifier. A bit surprisingly, I made it in through the lottery, so this winter, I set my sights on training to have a good, fast Boston Marathon.

The training was going pretty well until February, when my 'normal' aches and pains turned into persistent, throbbing pain in my right hip. When a few weeks of primarily cross-training didn't take care of things, I headed into the Physical Therapist. I feel like I lucked out with my PT (Scott at Alta Physical Therapy if any Boulderites are looking for a recommendation  =). Turns out I was over-striding - something I'm not able to do when running on the trails, but is easy to do when running on the roads. What I had started to do (somewhat unintentionally) to be more 'efficient' was actually now putting me at risk of not being prepared for one of my 'bucket list' items. Thanks to Scott's treatments and analysis and Meghan's great coaching, I ended up getting back to marathon training pretty quickly (with a new, improved sense of what form is best for me). My volume didn't get as high as it has before some previous marathons, but I got in some quality long runs and speed work and felt like I was reasonably prepared for race day.

With Brad (wearing his press jacket from covering the race last year)

Physically, at least. Mentally, I was a bit of a mess. I fully admit I tend to get a bit anxious before races - especially ones that are important to me. Normally this starts a day or so before a race. This time, it started over a week before the race. I started obsessing over all sorts of little details - I was seriously annoying myself with it. Luckily, my travel to Boston was smooth this last Saturday - smooth enough that I got to my hotel early enough to run to the Expo, pick up my number, buy a few things, and get cleaned up before meeting up with my Missoula Friends, Marc and Anne for dinner.

Coach Meghan's Boston girls - with Martha Staples.

Sunday I took it easy - met up with a friend with whom I'd grown up and his girlfriend, then had dinner with another woman that Meghan is coaching. Those things alone made for a great weekend - getting to see some good, old friends that I hadn't seen in a long time and meeting some new ones. But, really, I wouldn't have been here to see them in the first place if it hadn't been for the marathon. 


Boston starts mid-morning, so for once I didn't have to worry about needing to wake up super early to eat enough calories before the start.  I was up early anyway, and had plenty of time to drink my tea, get dressed, and watch the latest weather forecast. They were calling for a cold, rainy day - though the worst of it wasn't supposed to hit until after 1 in the afternoon.

The morning went by as if in a dream. My hotel provided a free shuttle to the Boston Common where we loaded buses that drove us up to the staging area in Hopkington. On one level, it felt like just another pre-race morning, trying to focus on getting in the right amount of calories and fluids, and finding the shortest line for the porta-potties. On another, you couldn't escape that this was something BIG - from the huge number of runners in the staging area to the ever-present police (including armed cops on top of the buildings). 

Soon enough, they called for my wave to start walking down to our corrals. Tears welled up behind my eyes for the first of many times that day as it hit me that I was about to start what had been a dream for so long. 

Once in my coral, I stripped off the last of my warm layers (to be donated to local charities), and as if on cue, light rain started. 

Then the count down and we were off. Slowly. I was about 1/3 of the way back in a pack of about 7,000 people - and it took quite awhile before I felt like I could run at a comfortable pace. I tried to embrace the slow start and minimize the amount of effort I put into dodging around other people. 

I had printed out a customized pace chart to wear around my wrist and quickly realized that it was going to be a bit useless. Besides generally being a bit off pace, it was nearly impossible to run the recommended pace for the first several miles. That said, I happily had a relatively fast pace that also felt pretty easy. 

The first 5 miles of Boston are downhill, followed by 11 miles of rolling hills and flat terrain. Throughout these first 16 miles, I tried to keep my pace quick, but in control. I focused on keeping my form intact and enjoying the experience. ...and what an experience!  There were people lining the race course almost continuously for the entire 26.2 miles. In the cold, wind, and rain.  Handing out their own food and water. It was amazing. I felt like I was in a gigantic parade - and, in fact, I saw several people holding up signs that said "worst parade ever".  I felt like I was grinning ear-to-ear nearly the entire time (though I'm grimacing in every race photo that was taken that day).

The girls from Wellesley College

Every time I felt my energy start to flag, something new would renew my spirit. As we ran on an overpass over the highway, people in the cars below honked their horns and waved out their car windows. Then as we approached Wellesley College, you could hear the girls screaming for over 1/4 mile away. I didn't see any of them get the requested kisses, but was more than amused by their somewhat inappropriate signs, and gave several of them high-5s. Then there were the alter-able runners who were inspirational just by being out there - including little people and people on crutches who I had no doubt would finish the race; in my hotel room that night, I saw coverage of the woman who lost a leg in the 2012 bombing as she crossed the finish line; and the next morning, the man with muscular dystrophy who crossed the finish line after almost 20 hours.

At mile 16, I started the Newton Hills, which finish with Heartbreak Hill, which crests at about mile 21. The uphill segments were a welcome relief to my fatigued quads. I let out a 'whoop' at the top or Heartbreak and started the final 5 mile, downhill push to the finish.

My quads were screaming at me for those last 5 miles. More than once I thought back to 
Waldo - if I could push it to the finish then, I could push it to the finish now. The crowd support certainly helped. The crowds got thicker and thicker as we got closer and closer to the finish line. Then there it was - the giant Citgo sign at mile 25, and the yelling and screaming was so loud, it was overwhelming. I made the left-hand turn onto Boylston Street and ran as hard as I could down those last, long 3 blocks. 

I crossed the finish line in 3 hours and 27 minutes. A marathon PR (by 10 minutes!), and happily, a qualifying time for next year's Boston Marathon. HUGE thanks to Coach Meghan for helping me get to Boston and for my family and friends for all of the support.

(And if you're wondering about the title of this post, the symbol of the marathon is a unicorn, so it really was a magical unicorn day.)

Nutrition:
Before the race - 1 large scone with peanut butter & honey, tea
Cliff shots or Gu @ 45, 1:30, 2:15, and 2:45
Handheld bottle - 16 oz of Skartch labs green tea and lime

Gear:
Shoes:  Scott T2 Evo
Socks:  the thicker Injiji toe-socks - love these!
running skirt
long-sleeve tech shirt
light weight gloves
Western States visor (thanks, Meghan)

participant

Name	Thorpe, Andrea (USA)
age group	Female 18-39
bib number	19795
State/ Province	CO
team
My Runner

totals

place (M/W)	1936
place (ag)	1562
place (total)	9123
time total (net)	03:27:06
time total (gun)	03:29:18

splits

Split	time of day	time	diff	min/mile	miles/h
5K	11:16:58AM	00:24:45	24:45	07:58	7.53
10K	11:41:57AM	00:49:44	24:59	08:03	7.46
15K	12:05:55PM	01:13:42	23:58	07:43	7.78
20K	12:30:15PM	01:38:02	24:20	07:50	7.67
HALF	12:35:29PM	01:43:16	05:14	07:41	7.81
25K	12:54:33PM	02:02:20	19:04	07:52	7.64
30K	01:19:27PM	02:27:14	24:54	08:01	7.49
35K	01:44:29PM	02:52:16	25:02	08:04	7.45
40K	02:08:50PM	03:16:37	24:21	07:51	7.66
Finish Net	02:19:19PM	03:27:06	10:29	07:42	7.8

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.