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!

Javelina Jundred 2016

Last year, I ran Javelina solely because I needed a qualifier for Western States. I already had my qualifier this year - Waldo. So why come back to Javelina? After running this race last year, I realized that there is a lot that happens to my body between 62 miles and 100 miles that I don't experience in the shorter races, and I wanted to keep working on adapting to that - but I could do that in any 100 miler. So, again, why Javelina - a loop course in the desert? I think the biggest reason was that last year, I was injured most of the summer before Javelina and hadn't trained as well as I had this year - I wanted to see what I could really do on the course

Last year, I actually didn't mind that I didn't have a crew for the race. This year, I was so happy to have amazing crew supporting me through the weekend. My friend, Tracey, and husband, Ross, flew out from Colorado and were with me the entire time, and our friends Jen, from Peoria, and Abe, from Tucson, helped out for much of Saturday. I'll admit that having a crew made me feel a bit (though just a bit) more pressured to "perform", especially since Tracey and Ross had taken time off work and flown out, but it was nice to have the company - and during the race, the support. At the end off it all, I'm confident I wouldn't have done as well without their support, especially given the challenges the day brought.

With Tracey and Jen the night before the race.

The day before the race was busy with setting up the tent at Jeadquarters, shopping for food, checking in at the race, and having a great dinner with my crew. I gave Tracey and Ross the run-down through my gear and what I'd want each time I came into Jeadquarters, I was grateful to have had the years of crewing and pacing the Queen to give me the experience of what makes it easiest for both crew and runner.

Race morning went smoothly. I had just enough time to get everything (well, almost everything) done without feeling rushed, but also without any extra time to get anxious. The one thing I forgot was to preemptively tape my knees in case I fell (I have come to accept the fact that I am very trip-prone). I remembered when there were only about 2 minutes left before we started, so I called out to Tracey and Ross to remind me when I came back through after the first lap. Then, without too much fanfare, we were off.

It was awesome to see how many people were cheering us on as we ran the horseshoe through Jeadquarters. This ended up being my favorite part about how they changed the course this year; we ran through the tent city at Jeadquarters every time we finished/started a loop and it felt like we had more interaction with the spectators; of course, it’s possible I was oblivious to it all last year.

The pack's slow jog out of Jeadquarters slowed further to a walk as over 500 runners attempted to organize themselves onto the single track Shalmo trail that connected Jeadquarters with the Pemberton Trail. While most people were in good spirits a few folks were clearly upset by the sudden slow pace, pushing their way around whenever possible. Seriously? We still have 99 miles to go....

The sunrise was beautiful, casting pinks and lavenders across the desert sky and ground, then finally making the fuzzy chollas (pronounced "choy-ya") glow as the bright orb finally rose above the horizon. Unfortunately, that also meant that we were soon to see just how hot the day would be. The temperature was forecast to be in the mid-90s the day of the race, and I had decided to wear a white cotton t-shirt instead of the usual polyester tech fabric. Cotton breathes better and stays wet longer - dangerous if you're worried about being cold, but perfect if you're worried about being hot. I was already dunking my shirt in the bucket of ice water at the first aid station, just 4 miles into the race. ....and I repeated this at every aid station until the sun finally became horizontal with the horizon again many hours later.

Not from the race, but shows how chollas can seem to glow.

I was glad to be back out in the desert on that first loop. I'm a forest person. Big trees. Moss. Green. Dirt. Muck. Rot. That's home to me. ...but the desert is cool, otherworldly, and really so pretty - wouldn't want to live there, but happy to visit. I ran most of the first loop alone, but as I started the extra little trail that we ran only on the first loop, I found myself running behind two men, one wearing a shirt from a race in Missoula. I had to ask, and pretty quickly found out that not only were they from Missoula, but that we actually had some friends, and favorite haunts (Big Dipper Ice Cream and Kettlehouse Brewery) in common. We chatted a bit until they slowed to drink and eat. I continued along a bit blissfully until until I stupidly and suddenly caught a toe and ... yep, landed on my left knee. I was going super slow and the damage wasn't too bad, but I still scraped up my left arm a bit and tore off the new skin that had just formed on my left knee after the last fall I had a few months ago. What could I do but laugh?

Really, Jen? You're going to take a photo now?!?

I brushed myself off, checked behind me to see how many people saw me crash, then headed back up the trail. Soon enough, I was coming into Jeadquarters - I first saw Craig and Laurie Thornley and commented that I was being sure to follow my coach's example as they noted the fresh blood (unfortunately, the Queen is also a bit notorious for her frequent falls), then ran through the support area to find Ross, Tracey, and Jen waiting for me just past the aid station. They were awesome - Ross and Tracey took my pack and started refilling it it as I finished crossing the timing mat. Ross had laid out all of the food choices I had with me so I could easily find and grab whatever looked good. Jen soaked my shirt again for me, and before I knew it, I was back on the trail.

I don't remember much about the 2nd loop other than this is where the heat of the day really hit us. When we started at 6am, it was already 70F; in the heat of the day, it got to 102F. I focused on trying to take in calories every 30 minutes (which got hard pretty quickly as the temps rose), staying hydrated, and staying wet. Ice went in my pack, my small bottle filled with water, a bandanna around my neck, under my hat, and in my sports bra. I occasionally sang little songs to myself and made up little stories about the saguaros - like the two saguaros that looked like they were in a boxing match.

I changed shoes between loops 2 and 3. I had bought a pair of men's shoes a size larger than what I normally wear. Unfortunately, they were of the brand/style that I used to wear, not my current shoe, and when I slid my foot in (covered by a clean pair of Injijis), the shoe didn't actually feel much bigger - likely due to the fact that they were more pointed than my actual foot shape. Since they seemed to be at least marginally better than switching back to the New Balance Leadvillles I started in, I kept them on, but by the end of the day, my big toes still ended up pretty blistered and painful.

After sitting in a chair for probably a few minutes longer than really necessary (long enough for the shirt that Abe had soaked for me to get dry enough to need a re-soaking), I start off on my third loop. I arrived at the first aid station on the loop just after they had run out of ice. People looked and sounded pretty desperate. Luckily, I still had some ice in my bandanna and under my hat. I soaked my shirt again, loaded up my water bottles, and headed back down the trail. A few miles before the Jackass Aid Station, halfway through the loop, the sun finally got low enough in the sky that the larger rocks and small hills started casting some real shade on the trail. It felt so nice to run through those short segments and have at least a brief respite from the oppressive sun.

As the sun continued it's slide, the sky became highlighted in lavenders and pinks, and briefly turned the most vibrant, clearest blue - a color I'd previously only really seen in the depth of clear, deep pools of water. I finally gave in, and turned on my headlamp. The light turn on red, so I pressed the button a few more times. Still red. I held it down several seconds. Still red. Crap. I was planning on switching to my wait-light at Jeadquarters, but still had nearly 6 miles to go - and while the red light was better than nothing, it didn't illuminate the trail nearly enough to run comfortably.

I came into the aid station and asked pleadingly if anyone could help me with my light. Another runner reached over and quickly switched it over to the white light. Apparently I wasn't holding the button for the exactly correct amount of time. So grateful. My chance to return the favor came almost immediately - as I was about to leave the aid station, I overheard another runner tell the aid station volunteers that he hadn't planned well and didn't have his headlamp. I told him he was welcome to run with me, and after waiting for him to dump some rocks out of this shoes, found myself running the next 5 miles with Cortland from Florida. I wasn't in much of a mood to talk, but was happy to have him talking to me. At one point, Cortland asked if I was one of the top 10 women - I told him I wasn't sure, and to be honest didn't care that much. He seemed a bit surprised, but it was the truth. Given the day's conditions, I was just happy that I was still on track to finish under 24 hours.

Back at Jeadquarters, I said goodbye to my cotton t-shirt that had served me so well during the heat of the day and put on a clean tech t-shirt, grabbed my new waist-light, and tried to get a few more calories in me (a full can of San Peligrino soda, which I drank every time I came into Jeadquarters, and soup, which they had started serving at dusk). Tracey jogged out with me - then I was out on the 4th loop. This was my hardest loop, and liek the 2nd, I don't remember much about it. We ran the 4th loop counter-clockwise, which feels harder to me than clockwise - the most technical part of the trail is on the downhill half; not so big of an issue on fresh legs, but on tired legs in the dark, it just plain felt hard. I frequently turned on my music to give me a bit of a distraction and boost.

It was so great to come into Jeadquarters again knowing that I only had one more loop to go until I was done. The 5th loop mentally felt a bit easier. I occasionally listened to music; at other times just enjoyed the quiet of the night. ...and I frequently checked my watch to check my pace. At times it seemed like I could power walk faster than I could run, but I was able to run at a decent pace most of the time. And, of course, my ability to actually do any decent calculations was greatly diminished, so I vacillated between thinking I had plenty of time and thinking that I was cutting it extremely close if my goal was still to come in under 24 hours. (I had given up on my "A" goal of finishing close to 22 hours when it became clear how hot it was going to be). Finally, I came to the last aid station before the finish. I tried to eat a bit more soup and drink a few cups of soda, then sent Ross and Tracey a text telling them I'd be there in about 45 minutes

I crossed the finish line in 23 hours, 11 minutes, and 49 seconds. It was only 32 minutes faster than last year, but considering the conditions of the day, I think I ran a lot better than I did the previous year. For context, out of 574 starters, only 285 finished, and of those, only 93 (16%) of us finished under 24 hours (in contrast, 24.6% of starters finished under 24 hours last year). Of women, 169 women started, 85 finished, but only 15 finished under 24 hours. ...I managed to finish as the 6th (6th!!!!) woman, 69th runner over-all.

I loved having my crew this year.  Jen and Abe's enthusiasm and willingness to dive in. Tracey's awesome positivity - I had my own personal cheerleader. Ross was quiet, steady support, and it felt so good to be surrounded by his hug at the end of the race. It was also their first 100 miler - and it was fun to hear them talk about the experience from their point of view later in the day as we waited for the flight home.

In reviewing my splits from the official race timing vs. my watch, it's clear that I spent a log of time at the Jeadquarters aid station. Though it's something I want to try to improve, given how hot it was, I think it was good that I focused so much on trying to get cool and hydrated.

So..... was it better than last year? Most definitely - over-all, I had a better race and my body recovered much better. Last year I could wear shoes for several days my feet were so swollen (I actually wore Ross's shoes to take Ollie for a walk); my legs were swollen, too. This year, neither of those were an issue. Unfortunately, I did get food poisoning the day after the race this year. My guess is that my body's defenses were pretty much non-existent given the strain I put it under, so some bacteria that I normally would have been able to fight off resulted in me puking several times the night after the race. Needless to say, that meant that catching back up on calories was a bit delayed.

In the weeks after the race, I've been asked more than once "why?" Why would I bother running a 100? Gosh.... so many reasons, many of which I still can't really articulate. Some of it is the excuse to run in beautiful places. Some of it is that I actually really do love to run. Then there's the ultra- and trail-running communities - they're pretty awesome folk. There's challenging myself - seeing what I can do. ...and then there's the unknown. It's related to the challenge part - but I think of it as being so much more mental, emotional, and philosophical. I've learned so much about myself and my capacity while running - and those are lessons that have stuck with me outside of race day. ...and I feel lucky that I have people who care about me who are willing to support me in these endeavors

In addition to my fabulous crew, definite thanks to my awesome coach and friend, Meghan Arbogast, who definitely succeeded in getting my "Optimally undertrained" for this race. and Squirrel's Nut Butter once again proved itself to be the best anti-chafe product out there - remarkable considering how sensitive my skin is and the conditions that my skin wasn't torn up

Stats:

Loop 1 (22.3 miles) - 3:58:17
Loop 2 (19.5 miles for the loop, 41.8 miles total): 4:20:29 for loop; 8:18:46 elapsed

Loop 3 (19.5 miles for the loop, 61.2 miles total): 4:40:49 for loop; 12:59:35 elapsed

Loop 4 (19.5 miles for the loop, 80.6 miles total): 5:10:38 for loop; 18:10:33 elapsed

Loop 5 (19.5 miles for the loop, 100ish miles total): 5:01:16 for loop; finish time: 23:11:49

It’s all about the head - Waldo 100km 2016

For several days before Waldo, I was able to picture the course as I thought about the different sections. I was so looking forward to the race – being back home, seeing good friends, and having the chance to lose myself in the woods for several hours. Rather than my normal pre-race nerves, the day before I felt mildly excited, but mostly just happy. My “A” goal was to run 13 hours 30 minutes, “B” was under 16 hours (to get a hat, and qualify for Western States), and “C” was to finish before getting pulled. However, I’ll admit that when I realized that I’m now a masters (i.e. over 40 years old) runner, I got into the idea that I could possibly place as a masters if not as a regular top 3 finisher.

I'm just left of center, 2nd row back in the white shirt and greenish skirt.

 

After a few hours of sleep in the car in the parking lot and a smooth pre-race morning routine, I was once again heading up the first climb to the top of one of the ski runs. I tried to pace myself, but I also didn’t want to get behind too many people – the road was super dry and each footstep sent a cloud of dust in the air. My asthma had flared up a few weeks prior to the race, and I wanted to minimize triggers as much as I could.

The reward for the steep, dusty climb was the next several miles of single track into the Gold Lake aid station. The trail was magical - easy running on soft earth as the sky slowly grew lighter and the sun approached the horizon. I was carrying electrolytes in my Camelback bladder (50 oz) and water in a small hand-held bottle I kept in one of the chest pockets. I’ve never done this before, but it was probably the smartest decision I made the entire race. I was able to wash my gels down with the plain water and douse my head and neck during the warmer parts of the day. I started off with Gu gels; at the Gold Lake aid station, I grabbed a few of the Cliff shot gels they had, refilled my water bottle, and visited the bathroom. I figured several women had passed me, but I wasn’t worried about it – it was a long day, with a lot of miles to go.

I felt good climbing up Mt. Fuji. I ran what I could, and power walked the steeper sections. I focused on using my glutes and hamstrings as I knew my quads would take a beating running the downhills. I caught Kelsie after the Fuji aid station, and we hiked most of the climb together. About ¾ of the way up, I got my first glance at Diamond Peak gleaming in the distance. So pretty! I let out of woop of joy, and finished my climb up. At the top I got a hug from Meghan who told me I was in 2^nd place. ummm….. what? In contrast to a few years ago, I hadn’t been getting updates from the aid stations on where I was placed, so this was definitely a surprise. I wasn’t trying to be up this high. She told me to just keep doing what I was doing. Okay, I could do that. So with another joyful woop, I started the fun run back down the mountain.

I was on my own most of the trail to the Mt Ray aid station – and I’ll admit that I started to feel a bit lonely; but I still enjoyed the soft trail that curved through forests and meadows. Kelsie caught me about a mile before the aid station and we ran in together. She left just  before I did, and I didn’t see her the rest of the day. She ended up placing 2^nd – super happy for her. Pretty soon I caught up to Ken Sinclair, from Bend. Between Mt. Ray and Twins I, Ken and I alternated passing each other and running together. It was nice to have a bit of company.

 

For the last two years, thinking back to the section between the Twins and Charlton Lake aid station has brought back calming and joyful memories. I remembered it as being a delightful, easy run down a gently sloping trail. I’d forgotten that there was about a mile uphill before getting to the downhill part, and it felt much harder than I thought it should. Then, starting the downhill, I had a hard time getting into a rhythm. I kept trying to quiet my monkey mind . “Of course my legs hurt a bit and I’m a bit nauseous; I’ve been running hard for almost 30 miles; I’ve run through worse for longer, I’ll be okay.” “I’m in 3^rd place now, and I’m pretty sure I’m 1^st masters – could I hold my place this time?” "Do I really care if I place high this time?”. …and so on… Unfortunately, the distraction in my head was enough to keep me from paying appropriate attention to the trail. I don’t even know how I tripped, but something caught me as I was going pretty fast down hill, and I landed hard, with my head getting the worst of it. I’m not sure what I landed on, but after my calves stopped their painful cramping and I was able to turn over and into a sitting position, I reached up to wipe the moisture from my forehead, and realized that not only did I have a big goose egg on my left temple, but I was also bleeding a bit. I was grateful to Liz for stopping to check on me. I eventually pushed myself up and started slowly trotting down the trail.

In about a mile, I came to Charlton Lake and I was so grateful to see some friends from Corvallis, starting with Mel who ran me into the aid station. Like all the other aid stations, I felt like I was in a Formula One pit stop – my pack was taken off my shoulders and whisked away to be refilled; a girl suddenly showed up in front of me holding my drop bag open for me to grab what I wanted. I told her thanks, but I didn’t’ need anything, which was a definite mistake. I should have grabbed the gels I had stashed in there. (The Cliff shots are a lot thicker, and I was having an increasingly hard time swallowing them. At the time I thought I’d have a problem swallowing any gels, but several miles later when I tried a Gu I’d stuffed down my pack, I realized I could still get those down reasonably well.) Most importantly, my friend, Dennis was at Charlton – he asked me how I was, and when I said okay, except that everyone kept asking me how I was doing (while choking back a few tears), Dennis made me sit down, then brought over water so I could wash off the dirt and grime. The medic came over, and with no symptoms of a concussion, Dennis’s statement that the following section wasn’t hard, just warm, and my assurance that if I started feeling nauseous or dizzy, I’d walk to the aid station and stop, I was allowed to continue on to 4290.

View from the top of Maiden Peak - taken in 2010.

Between Charlton and 4290 was where my head really became an issue. Not because of hitting it, but because I was no longer in my happy running place. All I could think about was being tired, sore, and nauseous, and worrying about the huge lump on my head. Heading up to twins 2, I obsessed about not being able to run more of the climb. I hadn’t been able to eat much, so I worried about how getting behind in calories would affect me.

Thankfully, Twin 2 had popsicles. After a couple cups of Sprite and Pringles, I started back down the trail, running as fast as a could while eating my push-pop. Sooooo good, and definitely a bit of a boost for the mood. I actually felt pretty good heading up to the Maiden Peak aid station, which also had popsicles. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much that could make the climb to the summit of Maiden Peak any easier. So steep.

Done!

I was happy to see another familiar face on the summit – and thankful for a hug from Hannah. I stopped to take in the view – so pretty! I somewhat reluctantly headed back down the trail. After cautiously negotiating the steep and rocky Leap of Faith trail, I made it to the Maiden Lake aid station. The hot pierogi actually tasted pretty good, so after eating one of those and downing a few cups of soda, I left the aid station, reminding myself that I only had 7 miles left to go. However, instead of feeling happy, I started crying. I let myself walk and cry a bit, then reminded myself that the faster I ran, the quicker I’d be done. Not speedy, but I had some decent sections of running. …and 14 hours and 25 minutes after I started, I got my hug and new beanie from Meghan as I crossed the finish line.

While I’d moved back to 9^th woman, I actually still managed to “podium” – coming in as the 2^nd Masters woman. First time I’ve won something in an ultra!

Getting my award from the Queen! (the beanie hid my head-lump)

Huge thanks to the race organizers (Meghan and Craig) and all of the volunteers. I was so well taken care of all day – best aid stations of any race I’ve ever done, for sure. I’m also grateful for the care I received from the race medics – both at Charlton and at the end, where I had an asthma attack. They were professional and caring, but also not overly conservative in their approach. I’m once again grateful to Meghan for her thoughtful coaching and support, my parents for letting me borrow their car and feeding me well over the weekend, and everyone who has continued to support and encourage me in this crazy running thing. 

Stats:
34th of 121 starters; 9th of 21 women who finished.
2nd place masters (over 40) woman

#ageisjustanumber

I signed up for Quad Rock 25 miler on a bit of a whim, but it ended up being a run with a purpose when I realized that 25 miles is equivalent to 40 km. 40km just a few days before my 40th birthday? Perfect. Even better, the Front Range was draped with a thick fog all morning long, resulting in a drippy, drizzly, foggy cold. In other words, it reminded me of the Pacific Northwest. Even better.

I fully planned on this just being a training run. Really. I know most people say that as an excuse for a less than great race, but I was just coming off of Boston, my foot is still at only 90% or so, and I just started putting in regular runs up/down mountains this season in the last few weeks - I really had no expectations. I barely tapered the week before, and wasn't nearly as careful with food, etc. as I would normally be for a race. Admittedly, this is also partially because in my head, while 26 miles on the road is long, 25 miles on the trail is short.

The knee looks worse that it was.

Just before the start, a woman graciously gave me a pair of hand-warmers -- oh, so happy for the hand-warmers, especially since my options were to either pull my arm-sleeves over my hands, and have them completely fall down my arms (despite the fact they are designed with hand-mitts, they are frightfully short), or have them pulled up enough to cover my arms, but leave my hands (which are super cold sensitive) exposed. "Gear issues" was actually the theme of the day. My running skirt kept threatening to fall down, too. Luckily I was able to use one of the safety pins from my race number to pin the waste band so it was tighter.

The course runs all through the meadows and open forests of Horestooth Mountain Park and Lory State Park just outside of Fort Collins. I happily was able to run many of the ups, and was able to get good speed on the downs and flats. ....and 'happily' is the truth. For the first time in a long time, running hard simply felt good. Admittedly, I did fall once, but that was when I was distracted talking to someone (and also crowded to the side of the trail).

...and when "Let it Go" from Frozen started playing as I left the 2nd to last aid station to start a blissful downhill section? You better believe it that I was signing along.

I finished in 5:06, good enough for 16th woman (of 95) and 80th overall (of 230 finishers). The best part is I feel like I've gotten my trail mojo back. Gnar Runners in Fort Collins put on a great race, and a great barbecue despite the cold and damp conditions. I huge thank-you goes out to all the volunteers who had to stand out in the cold and wet (I was at least generating some body heat to help me stay warm). And, of course, Meghan set me up really well with a great training plan to transition from Boston to Quad Rock.

...but this post is about more than just Quad Rock, because Quad Rock was just birthday run #1. On Friday, my actual birthday, I took the day off from work for what I labeled as "Andrea's fun long run day" on my training plan.

Near the beginning of the Lumpy Ridge loop

As I headed out of Louisville, I treated myself to a "king egg" from Moxie Bakery in Louisville (seriously worth a stop if you are in the area). Picture this: a large muffin cup lined with croissant dough, which is then filled with an egg and a few veggies, and all of that is then covered with cheese, so that when it comes out of the wood fired oven, you get crispy, buttery crust surrounding gooey dough, a perfectly hard cooked egg, and all of that topped with crusty, melty, cheesy, goodness. Serious yumminess. I savored the king egg as I drove up the canyon to the Lumpy Ridge Trailhead just outside of Estes Park - and it ended up holding me through my entire, 3 hour run.

Bridal Veil falls

Gem Lake

Happy runner girl #ageisjustanumber

The Lumpy Ridge area is part of Rocky Mountain National Park, although you don't actually go through one of the park entrances. Ross and I ran this loop last summer when the wildflowers were in full bloom. This time, the aspen were just starting to leaf out at the trailhead and were still bare at the higher elevations along the loop, but it was still spectacular. Magnificent views of snow covered peaks. Relatively smooth trail. Creeks and waterfalls. My legs were still a bit tired from pushing myself at Quad rock, and I was sucking wind a bit as it was my first run of the season above 8000 feet, but the over-whelming feeling was of joy and gratitude. I am so grateful that I am in a place in my life that I can take a day off to just play in the mountains and that I have a body that let's me do so.

So turning 40? Sure, there are some basic biological facts that can't be ignored; but who said 40 is over the hill?!?! #ageisjustanumber

Boston 2016

For most of last year, I suffered through a pretty bad case of plantar fasciitis. While I was able to run a decent time at Javelina, I also had to skip two races I’d already signed up for, and my training runs became just that – training to get me to the start and finish line, and not the mind-clearing, joyful hours in the woods and mountains that I generally rely on for a sense of mental clarity and emotional stability.

While my Physical Therapists (Scott and Michael) had done a great job of keeping me (and the foot) in one piece to get through the 100, I knew I needed something different if I was going to actually fix what was wrong. Scott recommended I see another PT in town who was more of a foot specialist –so in November, I found myself in the office of Sandy Bertrand.Sandy was more thorough measuring and examining my foot specifically and lower body in general than any of the podiatrists I’d ever seen. Her main conclusions were that an inherent inflexibility in my left first metatarsal (i.e. big toe) was causing my foot to not pronate properly. She thought this was something that would be easy to fix by modifying over-the-counter orthotics. She also suggested I would benefit from a small (few millimeter) lift in my left shoe. I’ve known for awhile that I had a greater-than-average leg length discrepancy, but Scott thought it was best to adjust the pelvis, etc. to fix the issues. Sandy thought that given my normal training volume, a lift would be better.

I really appreciate Sandy’s approach to orthotics. First, by modifying (grinding down the bottom, hard surfaces) over-the-counter orthotics, the cost was a lot lower than custom orthotics. Second, she doesn’t make overly stiff orthotics, so there is still a lot of natural foot motion. I first started running in my new orthotics and lift in December. It took a few runs to adjust to them, but things began to feel better pretty quickly. No miraculous, 100% improvement, but better.

My next step was to see if there was anything else I could do to speed up the healing. Massage, AStym, and dry-needling helped to loosen the tight connecting muscles, but I knew I had some deep damage that needed fixing. I emailed Scott and he recommended I try class IV laser therapy with Sandy. I did some Google searches, and while it was hard to find peer-reviewed research that wasn’t sponsored by the manufacturers, I at least didn’t find anything suggesting it was a hoax.

In the mean-time, Coach Meghan worked with me to try to start building my training back up while not aggravating my foot. I started off with running just 3 days a week (including a long run), swimming or biking 3 days a week, and 1 rest day. As the treatments continued (and started to taper off) as my foot started to improve, I was able to increase the number of days that I ran and the length and intensity of my runs.

That said, it was still a hard winter and early spring of training. The foothill and mountain trails had snow and ice on them for much of the winter, and since my foot was really sensitive to twists and uneven surfaces, and I didn’t want to stress it too much running with spikes, I stuck to the paved and gravel trails near Louisville. While I acknowledge that I am super lucky to have the extent of paved and gravel trails around me that I do, I don’t find them quite as inspiring and got pretty bored of my regular routes. On top of that, work has been extraordinarily stressful the last several months. Most work days, I felt like my energy was just generally zapped, and by Friday, it was extremely difficult to get out of bed early for one of my longer weekday runs. While I was able to get in my speedwork, my pace was generally 10 seconds per mile slower than it was last year. And the two “fast finish” long runs that Meghan scheduled? I ended up wanting to rip my Garmin off my wrist and stomp it to pieces when it wouldn’t stop notifying me that I needed to speed up despite the fact that I was running as hard as I could.

All of that is a long-winded explanation for why I had no goal for Boston this year, which I didn’t really think about until I sat down at my computer the afternoon before the race to send an email to my parents to let them know when they could expect the automatic updates from when I crossed different check points during the race. Last year, I set a marathon PR – 3:27. So, I told them that if I was having a really good day, I hoped to finish in 3 hours and 30 minutes. I then told myself that my more realistic, average-day goal would be 3:40; still a Boston qualifier, and so far, I’ve only had 2 other marathons under that time. My final goal would simply be to finish and have fun.

But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Because the real drama of the weekend was just getting to Boston. A big spring snowstorm was forecast to roll into the Denver/Boulder area Friday night. The models varied widely, but coalesced near the middle of the week on a forecast for rain Friday turning to snow early Saturday morning, then snowing through the weekend. My flight was on United at 8:30am Saturday, so I thought I’d be fine. It seemed like the ‘meat’ of the storm would be coming later Saturday and the roads and runways would still be warm from the previous days, so I figured snow wouldn’t start sticking until closer to noon on Saturday. I had some moments of doubt Friday morning, but Ross and a few of my coworkers reassured me that I should be fine. Then, just like that, just as soon as I decided I’d be fine, I got a notification from United that they cancelled my 8:30 flight and rescheduled me for a 12:30 flight. That didn’t fit my logic model at all. After spending 10 minutes on hold, I found myself talking to a United rep who was trying very hard to help me find an alternate flight – after going through a few options, he mumbled to himself that they were all cancelled. I asked him to clarify – by ‘all’ did he also mean the 12:30 flight that I had not yet received notification of being cancelled? He checked – and yes, that flight was also cancelled. I somewhat desperately exclaimed that I had to get to Boston. He rescheduled me for an American Airlines flight that was schedule to leave at 5:30am Saturday, then would connect in Chicago. …and no, there were no more flights available Friday night.

Hangin' with Abby - Abigail Adams, that is - at the Boston Women's Memorial. This was 2 days before the 50th annivesary of women running Boston ('illegally') - it would be another 6 years before women would officially be allowed in the race.

Saturday morning, I got up at 2am, then drove to the airport in a mix of heavy, wet snow, rain, and sleet. I later found out that the ticket counters were already busy with people trying to find any flight out of Denver, that they would figure out the connections later, but I cruised through an empty security line and found myself waiting with the other passengers of the AA flight bound for Chicago – many of whom were also rerouted Boston runners. As our boarding time approached, they announced that they were waiting for paperwork so they could board the plane. Our boarding time came and went – and we were still waiting. We finally boarded about 15 minutes after we’d been scheduled to leave. We then had to sit on the tarmac for 30-45 minutes while they deiced the plane. The hour long buffer we had between flights evaporated. On the flight, I tracked our progress vs. the departure time of our connecting flight – we were scheduled to land at 10:08a; our connecting flight was scheduled to leave at 10:05a. The flight crew said it was unlikely they would hold the flight for us, but that “we would be rebooked”. The few seats on the next few flights disappeared, and the only other options would be to rebook myself on flights leaving 9pm or later. I decided to take my chances that they would hold the flight. About 15 minutes before we landed, my app refreshed and showed that our connecting flight was delayed 15 minutes. Woohoo! We landed and after what seemed like the longest taxi that could be allowed while still calling the terminals part of the same airport (seriously – the plane drove on a bridge that went over a several-lane road/highway), I found myself guiding a blind runner from Colorado Springs through the terminal to our connecting gate (luckily only a few gates away). The other 20-30 Boston runners, friends, and family soon joined us and we were on our way. I usually don’t fly American Airlines, but I became a bit of a fan on Saturday.

With Martha and Ranae.

My pre-race time in Boston was pretty mellow. I managed to not only get out for a 4 mile run along the St. Charles, but also pick up my race stuff and some food on Saturday before happily passing out in the comfy Back Bay apartment I reserved through AirBnB. Sunday was mellow – a short run and lunch Martha, another Meghan coachee, and her friend, Ranae. Unfortunately, I didn’t pass out so peacefully Sunday night – instead laid awake for a few hours until I took ½ a dose of a Z-quil. I figured I had several hours in the morning before my race for any lingering grogginess to wear off.

One of the benefits of experience is that it can help calm the nerves. The buses, drive to Hopkinton, and wait in the athletes’ village were familiar. The morning was warm, and I enjoyed sitting against the schoolyard fence, watching the crowds and randomly chatting with those around me. Soon enough, it was time for my wave to line up. Last year, I was almost overwhelmed by my emotions; this year, I was just happy and grateful to be able to participate in this event again this year.

The start at Hopkinton.

Unlike last year, when I felt like I was held back by the pack for the first few miles, this year, I felt like the pack’s pace was actually about the pace I should be running. For the most part, I was able to position myself in the middle third of the road and not have to dodge and run around others very much – except for at the aid stations, that is. Last year, I barely used the aid stations, relying on a handheld water bottle. I had a handheld again this year, but it was hot this year; at least it was hotter than I’ve run for several months. At each aid station for the first 10 or 13 miles, I’d first have a few gulps of aid station Gatorade, then grab a cup of water, take a gulp then dump the rest over my head. I was grateful for the slight breeze that helped with the cooling. I drank a bit from my hand-held between aid stations and at the few aid stations that I skipped – either because I didn’t want to fight to get to the tables (it was almost a full-contact sport at times), or I just didn’t feel like taking the time. Luckily it got cooler as we got closer to Boston.

Pushing hard at the last mile.

Although it wasn’t quite as emotional of a run for me as last year, it was still an amazing, inspirational experience. The crowds were even thicker this year. The parking lot of the biker bar at mile 2 was packed – with bikers (the Harley kind) blasting hard 80s rock. It was actually the first of 4 times that I heard Poison being blasted along the course. The Wesley girls did not disappoint; I considered pausing to kiss the girl holding the “kiss me I’m from Oregon sign”, but to be honest, I was already struggling a bit to stay on pace and didn’t want to lose focus. I generally stayed on 3:30 pace for the first 17 miles (with the exception of the mile where I stopped for a brief Porta-Potty break), but started to slow down from there. Last year, the Newton hills felt refreshing – a nice break for my over-taxed quads. This year, I just felt the effort. I picked up the pace on the downhills, but didn’t have the leg turnover to really take advantage of them. On the positive side, I never felt like I was bonking; I just didn’t have the stamina to keep up the pace for that long. It was even a struggle to pick up the pace for the last 3 miles that were met by increasingly thick – and loud – crowds. But I did try … and I still loved it. Every minute of it.  …and I still feel so privileged to have been a part of the race – and the facts that it is so old (120 years), and so hard to get in are only a part of that. I once again was inspired by all of the alter-abled runners that I passed – 4 blade runners, a little person, a blind runner, and team Hoyt – and those were just the ones that I saw; I know there were many others out there facing challenges much greater than me. So my foot hurt and my life has been a bit stressful? I am still lucky enough to be out there running and having 26.2 miles of strangers – as well as my coworkers, friends, and family – cheering me on.

3:39:12 – I’m sure I looked like a hot mess those last few blocks, elbows flying high as I struggled to get in under 3:40, but I did it. 3^rd fastest marathon time for me and not only is it another Boston Qualifying time, it’s qualifies me by over 5 minutes (and thus a higher chance of getting in) since I’m entering a new age bracket this year.

 

At Fenway Park for the Boston post-race party.