Waldo 100km

  The Waldo 100km webpage contains the following warning,

"It is not a beginner-level ultra and participation in the race should not be taken lightly."
  
Since I started contemplating ultra's, I've wanted to run Waldo.  I've also been extremely intimidated by Waldo.  I knew that running this race would be a totally different experience.  Although I was still recovering from my knee injury, I signed up this spring thinking that my running last year had been so great, that by August I should be in great shape to finally tackle Waldo.  At the time, I had no clue that my training this summer would be detoured a bit by planning both a big move and a wedding.  A few weeks before the race, despite not having trained as well as I'd hoped, I did still feel relatively positive about how I'd do - I definitely felt I could finish in 16 hours.  However, I changed to the early start (3 am) because I didn't want any chance I wouldn't get my hat.  To get a Waldo hat, you have to finish by 9pm - within 16 hours for the normal (5am) start, 18 hours for the early (3am) start, and I figured that just in case I was having a bad day, I wanted the extra cushion. 

At least, those are the rules for a 'normal' year. The Wednesday before the race, a fire broke out near the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), in the middle of the course.  Luckily, the Forest Service was able to quickly get the fire under control and co-Race Directors Craig Thornley, Meghan Arboghast (and others) put together a revised course that kept us out of the burn area.  The revised course added an additional 5km (3 miles) and some additional elevation. Because of the change, they gave us an additional hour to get our hat - 10pm.  An hour it turns out I needed.

Some facts about Waldo (partially stolen from Douglas McCarty's blog):
5120: Starting and Finishing Elevation, in feet. There are two minor climbs of about 1,000 feet, and three major climbs of more that 2,000 feet (Fuji, The Twins and Maiden Peak).

7,818: Elevation in feet at the summit of Maiden Peak which is 9 miles from the Finish Line.

12,000: Approximate feet of climbing on the revised course (of course, there was an equal 12,000 feet of descending as well). (To put it in perspective, the infamous “Heartbreak Hill” in the Boston Marathon rises a total of 88 feet over the course of almost one half mile—that would barely qualify as a “roller” at Waldo.) -- in a normal year, there is about 11,000 feet of elevation gain.

So.... my Waldo story:

I woke up just before my 1AM alarm.  Ross and I camped in the parking lot at Willamette Pass.  Despite only putting in one ear plug (nervous about missing my alarm if I put both in), I managed to fall asleep before 10, so was able to get a few hours of sleep.  Made tea, ate my bagel, double checked that my hydration pack had everything, and applied a few coats of body glide to the likely-to-chafe parts.  The morning was warm, but surprisingly, there were a few sprinkles. 

Just before the 3am start. 
Thanks to Mikio for the photo

At 3AM, I left the start with the rest of the early-starters (30 or so?).  Somehow I ended up in the lead.  I certainly didn't feel like I was pushing the pace - I was actually trying to keep my breathing and heart-rate under control - but there I was in the front.  The course was marked with reflective strips, but I was still unfamiliar with the route and at times the strips were hard to find.  Thankfully, Ken Sinclair volunteered to lead us the way to (nearly) the Gold Lake Aid Station.  On the way, I chatted with Darryl from Condon - who several years ago weighed 433 pounds.  He lost 195 pounds (!) a few years ago and is now a serious marathon and ultramarathon runner.  Seriously impressive.

I loved the first several hours of the race.  The route to the Fugi aid station was fairly runnable and time was flying by.  It was light enough to turn off my head lamp near the AS, and as I was about 100meters from the top of Mt. Fugi, I caught a glimpse of a sliver of red just above the mountains.  I got to the top in time to see the sun, glowing red through the lingering smoke, finish its climb above the mountains.  The sky was awash in brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows.  Stretching in front of me were rows of mountain peaks, green valleys, and dark blue lakes.  The view was AMAZING.  That's my excuse for tripping and falling to my knees at the top.  ...but seriously, it was so beautiful.  Definitely worth the 1am wake-up call.

Unfortunately, my high from the morning started to fade the longer the sun was up.  By the time I reached the Twins for the first time, I realized that my stomach was seriously unhappy.  I had some mild nausea that I attributed to the elevation, but over the course of the day I ended up having to visit the bushes six times for some rather unpleasant business.  I have never had that bad of a stomach during a race.  I've gone over my diet for the previous week and the only thing unusual was maybe a little more dairy than normal.  I think that, the early start, the strain on my body, and the emotional stress I'd been under leading up the race led to my issues.  Unfortunately, this took both a physical and mental toll and contributed to a negative mental dialogue that I had a hard time shaking for most of the day.

The other part of my negative attitude was my feet - my feet hurt.  Not impending-blisters pain; just plain pain.  I've had a love-hate relationship with trail running shoes and have struggled to find some that offer the right balance of flexibility, shock absorption, and stability.  I've been having issues with foot pain once I hit about 20 miles in training runs, and the same was happening in this race.  I changed my shoes at Charleton Lake from an older pair of Brooks Cascadias to a new pair.  Despite not being well broken-in (I'd only done one medium-long run in them), the change in shoes helped, but I think I still need to do some experimenting with brands and styles.

Luckily, the Waldo aid stations have the best volunteers I've ever experienced, and I really do credit them with helping me cross the finish line.  At every aid station, my pack was whisked off my back and promptly filled with my fluid of choice.  I was then offered a variety of foods - and for most of the aid stations everything had been carried several miles UP steep trails.  The volunteers were excited and encouraging and over-all awesome.  It was particularly great to see so many of my Corvallis friends at the stations - the Millers at Gold Lake - and Anne again at Maiden Peak, LD and Lobo at the Twins, Scott at Charleton, and Mikio at Maiden Lake.

Despite a drizzly morning, the afternoon of the race became rather warm, and climbing to the top of the Twins for the second time was an act of perseverance.  There were some beautiful views and some awesome wildflowers, but what really helped me push to the top was knowing that Ross would be waiting for me at the aid station.  Ross, LD, and Lobo took care of me - getting me a popsicle, which was so good, and trying to get me to eat more.  I switched from water to GuBrew in my pack since I was having a harder time eating calories and knew I was in a pretty severe deficit.

I left the Twins AS with Ross gently trotting behind me.  Ross paced me from the Twins II to the finish - 22 miles.  I don't think I would have finished the race if it hadn't been for him.  Our relationship was formed during many hours in the woods together and just his presence helped me stay calm and motivated through what would be my hardest miles.  Ross had been worried he wouldn't be able to keep up with me, but when I was doing what I thought was a run, I'd look back to find him power walking - no issues with keeping up.  The section from the Twins to Gold Lake was relatively easy-going, but I was pretty spent by then, and had my first melt down going from Gold Lake to the Maiden Peak trail head.  I was tired and I hadn't expected the race to hurt so much.  ...and I felt disappointed in myself for not enjoying it more.  Ross encouraged me to just walk for a bit and was understanding and encouraging without being annoying.  He was perfect, and soon enough I was able to pick up my pace a bit for the 6 mile climb to Maiden Peak.

I think we had a decent pace heading up the Peak.  I was very glad for our Thursday night power hikes and I kept telling myself to 'hike like Lobo' since he is always able to set such a great pace.  As we neared Maiden Peak, we could increasingly hear the rumbling of thunder and when we were finally able to get a view of the peak, it became apparent that there was a large thundercloud sitting over the top.  I told Ross that during my massage the Monday before, Meghan had told me that if the forecast thunderstorms appeared that they would probably just have us bypass the very top section.  I was secretly hoping they would, since I didn't feel like I had it in me for the last steep climb to the top - and I was in luck since at the saddle, some volunteers told us that due to lightening, we would be bypassing the very peak.  Yippee! Normally I would feel like a wimp for not wanting to go to the very top, but I'd run over 50 miles by that then, so I think I'm excused this time.

About 9 miles from the finish.

Ross and I picked our way down the steep part heading down from the saddle, then found ourselves at the last aid station.  I was feeling pretty good and after felt like I had a pretty good pace going after we left the AS.  Only 7.5 miles to the finish, mostly downhill - surely I could get there in 1 1/2 hours.  About 45 minutes later, we got to a lake where some volunteers told us 'only 4 more miles to go'.  Which meant I'd been going much slower than expected.  Cue melt-down - major melt-down.  I no longer wanted to run.  I was worn out - I just wanted to be done.  Ross was again gently encouraging, telling me that even at my fast-ish walk, we would make it in time for a hat.  I yelled back that I didn't care (not true - I really wanted a hat) and that I just wanted to stop running (very true).  Ross took it in stride and let me cry it out (at one point, I actually sobbed 'I cant stop crying'), and eventually I managed to start moving to the finish again.  I power-hiked most of those last miles, which at that point was faster than my 'run'.  I did manage to psuedo-run from the end of the trail to the finish line - and received both an awesome hug from the Queen (who in addition to being a great co-RD is an awesome masseuse and friend and has been so encouraging and supportive) and my hat.

18 hours, 18 minutes, and 14 seconds - 73rd out of 91 finishers; 21 runners dropped this year.  I found it interesting that despite feeling like I fell apart in the second half, my place was fairly consistent from one aid station to the next, varying between 68th to 75th place at each of them.

The next day, Ross asked me if I'd do another 100km.  At that point, I wasn't even sure if I wanted to do another 50km.  Of course, predictably, a few days later I started thinking about how I could train better if I ever did another one.  Whether I do another, and despite the pain of the day, I am so glad I ran Waldo this year.  Besides the knowledge that I can run 100km (and get my hat), Waldo ended up being a bit of a 'good-bye' to Oregon for me since a few days after the race, I left for my new job and home in Colorado.  I really can't think of something I would have rather done the weekend before leaving.  ...and in the weird way that my brain works, this was also in part a way for Ross and I to celebrate our up-coming wedding.  We had skied partially up Fugi and had backpacked many of the trails we ended up running together and it was wonderful to revisit those places and memories.
 

Siskiyou Out-Back 2012

Once of the amazing views along the SOB course

It's strange - for some reason, I seem to have run my least favorite races way more than my most favorite.  Portland Marathon - not too scenic and a strangely painful course - 3 or 4 finishes.  Siskiyou Out-Back 50km - incredibly scenic and the first time I ran it I had a great time - but it took me 3 years to return to the race.  I seriously need to reverse this pattern.

Leading up to SOB, I was really unsure of where my fitness was and how I'd do.  I've been having issues with plantar fasciitis for several weeks now, and my legs felt heavy during my taper.  I've also not been able to get in the mileage I'd hoped for this summer.  But, having said all that, I knew I could finish a 50km, and decided to just run with the intent of enjoying the race.

After we got into Ashland Friday night, Ross and I headed out to what had previously been one of my favorite restaurants for my pre-race burger and beer.  Unfortunately, my 'rare-ish' request came back as just plain rare.  I picked around the edges and left most of the very red and bloody burger on my plate - then stressed all night about having food poisoning during my race.

I woke up Saturday morning before the alarm, made some breakfast, then hopped in my truck for the short drive to Mount Ashland.  I've had an issue with not eating enough before races - this time I got a very large bagel covered with  peanut butter and honey down, which seemed to do me well.  I had planned on eating a rocktane gel every 45 minutes, but at the last minute changed plans and switched to the EFS flask that they handed out at the race start.  Generally not a good idea to switch foods the day of the race, but this actually worked pretty well for me.  Before when I've used my Hammer Gel flask, I have eaten about every 30 minutes (good), but haven't eaten as much as if I'd used a gel packet (bad).  This time, I took a 'sip' off of the gel flask almost every 15 minutes, which seemed to help me balance out the timing/volume issue.

The morning was cool and clear.  I got there in time to help cheer for the 50 mile racers as they started their day, then an hour later, at 7am, I was following in their footsteps headed south on the Pacific Crest Trail.

This summer has turned out to be a bit different - and a bit more stressful - than I had originally anticipated, and in the first few miles, I let my mind wander away from the task at hand.  Then, about 2 miles into the race, I found myself flying through the air then landing unceremoniously in the dirt.  Stood up, brushed myself off (well, as much as I could.  The sunscreen I'd slathered on helped the dirt form a thick paste over my right side).  Some blood, not too bad, and I was off down the trail again.  If there is a good side to falling, the early fall helped me focus, which is a good thing, because the SOB course is awesome.  Most of the course is on the PCT - single track, mostly dirt.  Plus, it gave me a lot of attention as several runners commented on how dirty I was and the aid station volunteers were very concerned about getting me cleaned up.  There are a few sections on gravel roads that are mostly used to prevent conflicts between the people headed out and those coming in.  The scenery on the course is amazing - the course follows the ridgeline, varying between shady pine forests and open meadows.  Each meadow was different than the others and all covered with blooming wildflowers.  I was glad they didn't give us the wildlflower guide that was written for that route until after the race, or else I would have had a much slower time.

I tried to keep my pace under control for the first half.  The course starts around 6500 ft., and fluctuates between about 6800' and 7200'.  I felt mildly nauseous the entire time, but figured it was altitude, not calories, fluids, or salt (in addition to the EFS, I was eating about 75 calories at each aid station and drinking at least 1 cup of coke).  I really wanted to practice being okay with this feeling and keeping my heart rate in check despite the elevation, in practice for Waldo.  I kind-of surprisingly hit the turn-around in around 2:45, feeling great.  I'd remembered the climb up to the turn-around being harder the last time I ran this.

Pure joy (and my "Most Ashland" winning outfit)

I titled this blog "Seeking awe" because there is an experience that you can get sometimes - different than the runner high, but similar in being in that place where you are both outside yourself and completely within yourself at the same time.  Where you can't help but be struck by the spendor and wondrousness of everything around you.  Those moments where the experience itself is breathtaking.  I had about 10? 20? 30? minutes of that heading back to the finish.  The trail was flat to gentle downhill, following a rocky ridgeline, with meadows directly below me and rows of mountains stretching off into the horizon.  I didn't feel my feet on the ground, my breathing was effortless, and I was struck by the pure beauty of it all.  Pure joy.

Eventually, I was brought back to the task at hand by an aid station.  I hit the second to last aid station still feeling good, and decided to start pushing it.  ...and then the uphill started.  The uphill seemed runnable, but my legs disagreed with my eyes.  Luckily, everyone else seemed to be feeling the same way, and I even managed to pass a few people here.  Last aid station and I decided to find what I had left.  Sprint until I couldn't move.  I had an awesome last 4 miles, 8 - 8:30 minutes/mile (fast for me for the end of an ultra).  I hit the last 1/2 mile of pavement sub-8, I'd passed a bunch of people and knew I was going to finish under 6 hours.  Then suddenly, about 200 meters from the finish, a tall thin man passed me -- no way!  I tried to match his pace ... ummm... nope, that wasn't going to happen.  He passed me like I was standing still.  Turns out, he was the 2nd place finisher in the 50 miler that had started an hour earlier than me.

When all was said and done, I finished in 5:53:58. 25th woman, 93 over-all. Previous time was 6:01:23 -- and I felt so good.  Ross had run 13 miles from Ashland to the top of the mountain and got there just after I finished (I was convinced I'd take at least 6 hours) - but it meant so much to me that he was there.  ....and the woman handing out the grab bags decided that my clothing earned me the "Most Ashland" award.  Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.  Whatever.  I like my skirt, and I like my pink.

The Mac 2012

Happy cruise down Dan's Trail

The Macdonald Forest 50km will always be one of my favorite races.  Sure, the course is pretty tough and definitely does not play to my strengths (well, to be honest, I'm not really sure exactly what my strengths as an ultra-marathoner are, but I'm pretty sure I haven't found them on this course with 6800 ft of elevation gain in 50km), but ...it's the Mac.  These are the trails that I train on, I'm surrounded by friends on race day, and you can't beat the attitude, organization, and general atmosphere on race day.  The Mac is fun.

Once again, Clem rung the bell, and I found myself leaving the Forestry Club Cabin for a few hours in the woods.  As the hoard started moving forward, I realized that I was much further back in the pack than I usually start, and I kept getting stuck behind groups of slower runners.  So, for the first 1+ miles on the gravel road, I found myself weaving and surging, trying to get closer to the middle of the pack.  Maybe it was the awkward start, but my legs already felt a bit heavy and tired, my chronic pain in my right hip and hamstring was aching more than usual, and my shins were hurting like I was getting shin splints.  Less than two miles in and I already felt bad!

Coming into the finish

We turned onto Callaway Creek Trail and I found myself fretting about how bad my legs felt, then crash!  my foot caught a root and I was on the ground.  I managed to get up pretty quickly; my knees were bleeding a bit, but they didn't feel too bad, so I figured I didn't do too much damage - and, on the plus side, all of my other aches and pains were suddenly gone!

The rest of the race - well, now, a week later is a bit of a blur.  The hike up Horse Trail was definitely hard and I was a lot slower here than in the past.  In contrast, I was able to run (jog) most of the climb up Road 500 (miles 26.7-29.5), which I've really struggled with in the past; and heading down Section 36 Trail, I was able to pick up quite a bit of speed - where in the past I've been pretty slow due to quad and knee pain.  My finishing time was 6:25:32.

Mountain Rescue scrubbing gravel out of my knee

So.... in hindsight, I probably could have pushed a little harder and had a better clock time. ....but, I personally had a great time.  I really enjoyed the race and I learned a bit more about managing my salt, liquid, and nutrition. I made sure to eat more food before the Mac than before Peterson - a homebaked cookie offered up by Caballo before the race helped top off my tank. I took Hammer Gel every 1/2 hour and tried to get about 100 calories of food plus 1 or 2 cups of coke at each aid station.  Besides Peterson, it was the hottest day I'd run in all year and I didn't drink enough the first half of the race, but really made an effort to drink from my pack the second half and think that really helped in the last 6 miles.

A big thanks to everyone who helped out this year, RDs Ken and Dennis, everyone who volunteered (I feel very lame for not helping out this year), Sander and Clem for all the trail work (and the mountain bikers for making the new connector between Ridge Trail and Alpha after the landslide), all the volunteers at the aid stations (including Jan who, at the last aid station remarked that I was looking a lot better than at her aid station during Peterson), Scott for the beer...

...and heck yeah I'm running the Mac again next year.  It'll be my 5th year and I'll finally get one of the beautiful pieces of pottery made for the Mac (a mug for 5 finishes!).  And maybe next year I'll beat 6 hours  =)

It wasn't pretty, but .... Peterson Ridge Rumble (almost) 40 miler

Last year, I fell in love with the Peterson Ridge Rumble 40 miler.  I had such a great race there and was on a great runner's high for quite a while afterwards.  When I was finally given the okay to go back to running by my Physical Therapist (in mid-November), I made a quick calculation and decided that sure, Peterson would be doable this year.  Four months would be plenty of time to train.

For the most part, my knee has been feeling pretty good.  Not 100%, but not bad enough for me to get worried.  On the other hand, I've had a few other issues pop up, which limited my training some, but I had a few good 4 hour runs in the woods, and Peterson is an "easy" 40, so last Sunday I found myself once again starting down the dirt trails and roads near Sisters High School.  I normally have three goals for a race - the great day (in this case, matching my previous PRR time of 6:43, about 10 minutes per mile), the good day (under 7 hours), and the hey, at least I came out here and finished day.

The first five miles were flat and a bit uphill.  I was running with Mac Smith.  It was his first 40 and he wanted to run at about the pace I ran last year.  We were definitely running faster.  I tried to slow up a bit, but was feeling good, and my heart rate seemed fine, so I thought that I'd just go with it.  ...and then I hit the first downhill.  Not even a significant downhill, but enough that both quads cramped up until they felt like tiny little knotted balls.  Well, this wouldn't do.

I pulled off the trail, stretched a bit.  Yep, still hurt.  A lot.  Shuffled a bit more, pulled off the trail, stretched.  Yep, still cramped, still in pain.  ugh.  At the first aid station I grabbed an S-cap and piece of banana, then slowly jogged forward.   By the time I made it to the next aid station (mile 9ish?  another S-cap and piece of orange) the quads had started to relax and I was able to run a bit more normally.  I'd lost a lot of time by now, but figured if I kept up with the calories and salt, I should be able to come in at about 7 hours.

The day was gorgeous.  Blue skies, high 60's (maybe low 70's?).  Amazing views of the Cascades.  I kept trying to relax into the run, enjoy the views, breathe in the wonderful pines, enjoy the simplicity of putting one foot in front of another.  I did have moments like that -- but unfortunately this was a race more about perseverance. 

I felt the first wave of nausea around mile 18  - or 19?  - maybe 20?  (the awesome volunteers working the aid stations weren't entirely sure what distance they were at, and everyone's Garmins were giving different readings).  I could not figure out what was wrong with me.  Sure, I was a bit undertrained, but I didn't expect it to affect me this way.  Maybe not enough calories for breakfast?  ...but I had some gel from my flask every 30 minutes and was eating decently at the aid stations - amazing how good peanut M and Ms, fritos, pb and j, and cold boiled potatoes dipped in salt (which I now understand the appeal of) can taste - so seemed to be getting in quite a few calories.  I was drinking regularly from my pack (Nuun), taking S-caps, and had at least one if not a few small cups of Coke at each aid station, but maybe I still wasn't getting enough water and electrolytes? 

So, instead of focusing on finishing 40 miles, I thought about getting to the next aid station.  Then the next, ....  and then it wouldn't be too long until I got to the finish, right?  I was so happy to see Caballo, Osito, and Jan at the second-to-last aid station.  So grateful for not just the Nuun refill, cups of coke, and S-caps, but the smiles and encouragement.  Just about everyone around me was suffering a bit, so there was camaraderie around that.  I finally hit the long, mostly downhill stretch to the finish and managed to pick up my pace a bit.  Sooner than I expected, I saw the trail sign marking 1 mile to the High School, then was 'running' through the parking lot and unto the track.  Amazingly, the man who finished just ahead of me actually jumped the hurdle in the middle of the track.  I almost tripped just watching him.  I crossed the finish line in 6:53:28.  Okay, slower than last year, but still under 7:00.  ....and then Ardilla pointed out that the course was actually short - only 37.5 miles.  oh.  Well, hey, that's still 11 minutes/mile on average.  Not too bad considering last September I thought I may have to go under the knife.

Many thanks to all my friends who made me smile despite the suffering, especially Locadork (who was the 1st place woman!) for looking after me at the end and Ardilla for sending her after me in the locker room with a can of soda.

Next up, the Mac 50km in May.  Then Siskiyou Out-Back 50km in July, Where's Waldo 100km in August, then - I'm getting married!  It's going to be a good summer.

Recovery

Today I ran 9 miles in the woods.  I've been back to running for the last month or so, gradually working up from 30 minutes a day to today - my longest/hilliest run yet.  Despite the fact that I was running through a cloud for most of the run, it was absolutely wonderful.  Wonderful to hear the sound of my feet on gravel, dirt, and decaying leaves.  Wonderful to be surrounded by the deep greens and dark browns of an Oregon forest in December.  Wonderful to have those fleeting moments of feeling simply alive.

The past few months post-injury have been challenging.  The physical recovery has been hard, sure, but the biggest challenge has been emotional and mental.  Running has become a large part of who I am and I have missed my weekly routines of meeting up with my friends for a few hours in the woods.  When I'm running alone, running soothes me - I process my thoughts or even better, just get out of my head and breath.  Above all of that, on days like today, I come back to the thought that it is experiences like this, places like this, where I feel the most spiritual, the most in touch with something else beyond me. 

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul.”  ~John Muir

Yin and Yang (a.k.a. our vacation in British Columbia)

Ross and I decided to treat ourselves to a two week vacation this year. Start off with a week-long backpacking trip on the West Coast Trail on Vancouver Island, then have a more civilized week touring Victoria, Vancouver, and places in between. A nice balance of challenge and luxury, relaxation and activity.

If you're just interested in the pictures, I took a ton more pictures that didn't make it onto the blog.  You can check them out by clicking this link, or watching the slide show at the top.

We had a great start to the trip, being present for Laurel and John's wedding in Seattle and staying with Amanda, Nick, and Amelia. The next day we left early to drive to Port Angeles to catch the ferry to Vancouver Island. There was very little traffic, and our early arrival gave us enough time to visit a bookstore and locate an outdoor gear store just a few blocks from the ferry line-up. The store opened at 12:15, which gave us just enough time to find and purchase a new pump for Ross's campstove and hurry back to load the truck onto the ferry.

With Amanda at Laurel and John's wedding

From the ferry, we headed out to Port Renfrew ("A" on the map). The highway between Victoria and Port Renfrew was marked as a main highway, but that was a generous description. Super narrow, windy, and a lot of one-lane bridges. Pretty, though.  It was a nice night, so we went for a long walk along a back road before eating dinner and going through our packs one last time.

West Coast Trail Day 1
It started raining somewhere in the middle of the night.  I didn't really think of the consequences of the rain until we walked down the ramp to the dock early the next morning to load onto the sea taxi taking us up to the north trailhead in Bamfield (near the 'Pacific Rim National Park' marker on the map).  The sections of the dock were moving in independent directions, making it a bit challenging to get to the boat, let alone get onto it.  Our boat captain was cheerful and helpful, though, and after a family of 3 joined us, we were off  -- into more than 7 foot swells.  The ride was fun for the first 20 minutes.  Then the nausea hit; that was with taking anti-nausea pills.  Everyone except the captain felt sick.  Three of us were over the rails.  I ended up spending most of the 3 hour boat ride sitting in the very back where although it wasn't dry, it moved the least.  A few whales supposedly passed by the boat.

Happy (and clean) faces starting the trail

Buoys marking camping spots (our tent is tucked in the trees)

We got into Bamfield near 10am and where taken by a local to the park trailhead about 5km (3.1 miles) from town.  Ross and I had thought that we might have to wait a day or two to get our walk-on permits.  (Most of the permits are handed out ahead of time.)  However, the weather was good for one thing - no one else was trying to get walk-on permits.  We tried to dry out our clothes as much as we could while waiting for our orientation.  While we waited we saw several people coming off the trail come in, soaked and muddy - a preview of what we was coming for us.  By the time we hit the trail at 2pm, the rain had pretty much stopped and we just had to deal with the drippy fog. Our hike to Michigan campground I12 km) was pretty uneventful.  Some on the beach, some in the forest - some nice big old trees, a lot of mud, and our first exposure to the ladders.  There were a lot of people at the campground - we later found out that rangers had been by when it was raining and told everyone heading south to stay put.  The rivers and creeks that we had to cross where too high to cross safely for about 24 hours.  After our busy day, we easily went to sleep to the sound of the ocean.

West Coast Trail Day 2
We woke up to a marine layer that burned off by 10, leaving us with blue skies and sun for the rest of the day.  Today was our first exposure to the true nature of the trail - more adventure/obstacle course than hiking trail.

Standard trail & boardwalk conditions

Tons of ships wrecked just off the coast - and are why they made the trail.

Most of the boardwalks were falling apart and all of them were super slick.  More roots and mud.  At one point, Ross slipped on a bridge and almost knocked his front teeth out.  At another, I discovered that what appeared to be a solid edge to the trail wasn't and found myself almost falling down a cliff.  Luckily I was able to grab some roots with one hand and one foot.  Ross was there before I knew it to help me scramble back up.  It would have been a long way down.

On the positive side, we saw A LOT of whales today!  At one point, at least eight playing off the coast.    Some sea lions, too.  And the scenery was amazing.

Tsusiat Falls

We ended our day at Tsusiat Falls.  Super pretty and great to be able to take a much needed shower in the waterfall - but there were way too many people there.  We didn't even bother heading over to the official camp area.  We found a nice little cave to tuck our tent into and enjoy the sunset before some much needed sleep.

West Coast Trail Day 3

This was our longest day – 17 km.  Really, not that long by normal standards (about 10.5 miles), but all the mileage on this trail took so much longer than what we were used to.  There was a problem bear at the campsite we had hoped to stay at, which forced the longer day.

The day started off nice - ate breakfast while watching some whales playing just off the coast.  Snuck through a hole in the cliffs as the tide was coming up.  Also saw an area where they are working to reintroduce an endangered plant that I work with in Oregon.

We had to take a ferry across the river at Nitinat Narrows.  This area is on tribal land and the ferry operator also has a crab/salmon/whatever is fresh shack set-up.  We each asked for a crab (Dungeness).  He pulled up a cage holding several large, live crab that had been caught just down the river, killed them, and steamed them as we waited.  Combined with two cans of Canada’s finest malt liquor – one of the best lunches ever.

We had a nice, short section of soft, level trail, but most of it was more of the muck, roots, and slick broken boardwalk.  We arrived at Cribs Creek more than ready to sit-down.  Unfortunately, this is the site where Ross got bit by a bunch of no see ums (1-4 millimeters, in the family Ceratopogonidae, related to the black flies).  The bites became red, itchy welts and his ankles totally swelled up for over a week.  Great sunset, though.

Sunset at Cribs Campground

Cribs is also where we left our float.  Old floats were hung in trees to mark campgrounds and where the trail exits/entrances (e.g. when you had to leave the beach for the woods).  Ross had picked up one as we were walking and spent time at Cribs carving it up.  It now hangs near our campsite at Cribs.

West Coast Trail Day 4

Super narrow (&swingy!) suspension bridge.

We thought this would be an easy day, fairly flat, mostly on the beach.  However, the beach was loose sand and gravel – real tiring.  We both got a second wind in the afternoon, but decided to call it a day when we got to Walbran around 3pm.  It would have taken us a bit more than 3 hours to get to the next campsite and we decided to take it easy on ourselves and rest.  There was a thick Marine layer all day, so we didn’t get much of a view, although there were some cool tidepools.

West Coast Trail Day 5

Today – super muddy, slick roots, broken board walks.  I slipped while climbing down a bunch of slick, tangled roots.  I needed Ross to help me back up. On the plus side, it was super cool to be hiking through a temperate rainforest and a super cool swamp (particularly when the boardwalk was in good shape).  On the minus side, it's looking like I tore my meniscus.  It slowed me down a bit, but I still hiked out.

West Coast Trail Day 6

The water was often stained brown like tea.

We left Camper a bit late to travel on the beach, so headed inland through the woods.  My knee hurt quite a bit, but loosened up as we moved.  The trail through the woods was actually pretty nice and there were some huge trees.

Thrasher (a.k.a. Dawson City)

Thrasher was packed.  This was the last campground for those of us hiking north to south and the first campground for those starting at Port Renfrew and moving north.  We hung out around a campfire with a family we’d been seeing on the trail and at camp all week.  It was a bit of a party as those of us heading out the next trail tried to eat up or give away the food they had left.

There was some excitement in the evening.  Ross and I started looking at the afternoon high tide line and realized that our tent was probably close to where the high tide would be that night around midnight.  At about 10pm, we moved our tent to one of the last places left higher on the beach and tried to get some sleep.  As clock ticked, it began to sound like the ocean was about to come through the tent.  A little after 11, a bunch of flashlights came on and we could hear a bunch of murmurings through the camp as several tents were nearly swamped. 

Log crossing

West Coast Trail Day 7 – Last day

We woke up early, thinking it was raining, but realized it was just rain dripping on the fly.  The last 6 km went by pretty fast (relatively – about 3.5 hours).  The trail revisited our favorites from the past, ladders, mud, boardwalks, plus a ton of logs to walk across and slippery rock bouldering.

A short ferry ride and we signed out at the ranger station.  We found out that in addition to being shuttled from the trailhead to our truck (parked near the harbor), our parking lot came with the benefit of clean, warm showers.

So, we took 7 days to do the trail.  Could have done it without pushing too much in 6 - but we were on vacation, what's the rush?  I found out that someone has actually run the trail in about 10 hours.  Someone else had been planning on trying to beat the record our first day on the trail, but decided to cancel due to the weather.  You'd have to have perfect conditions to run it in that kind of time. 

The 'civilized' half

The civilized portion of our trip started with burgers and beer at the Coastal Café, then getting back in the truck and driving on an old logging road (now paved, though still just a secondary road)to Lake Cowichan.  We camped near a lake and spent a few hours hanging out on a beach and swimming.  From Lake Cowichan, we went through Duncan, where we went on a guided tour of the cities many totem poles.  We wandered through Cowichan Bay, a cool artsy, environmental bayfront town.  We found a great park to hike in and spent some time wine and cider tasting.  We also continued our exploration of BC's best cheese shops, bread bakeries, and farm stands.  On this part of the trip almost every lunch consisted of super yummy cheese, fresh heirloom tomatoes, and crusty artisan bread.  We spent a fun couple of hours kayaking through Cowichan Bay.  We didn't see any whales, but we did see a couple of see otters munching on something tasty and a ton of seals, including some babies that were hanging out on floating logs. 

A busker at Victoria's inner harbor.

From there, we went on to Victoria.  I was able to introduce Ross to both high tea (though we went a cheaper route than the infamous Empress Hotel) and one of my most-favorite-ever restaurants, Rebar.  We saw a great exhibit at the Royal BC Museum, had drinks on the fancy porch of the Empress, and generally enjoyed wandering the city.


From Victoria, we went to Salt Spring Island.  This island is known for its artists and was where a bunch of draft dodgers came during Vietnam.  Our first stop was a bakery, followed by a wonderful cheese place (both of them were at the owners' homes and farms), and a couple of wineries.  We wandered through a few art shops before stopping for dinner at a restaurant that grew it's own vegetables and bought most of the rest of it's food either on the island or in BC.

The Olympic Torch from the 2010 Winter Game.

Our last few days were spent in Vancouver.  We had briefly passed through here a few years ago on our bike tour, but didn't get a chance to stay.  We spent a lovely two nights at Nelson House Bed and Breakfast, right near downtown.  We wandered all through the harbor and China Town, took a tour through the Dr. Sun Yat Sen Chinese Garden, and had a couple of great runs through Stanley Park (my knee actually felt better after moving).

Great trip over-all.   It was hard to come home, though very nice to see our Tobey-dog and Ceacelia-cat again (many thanks to my parents for once again watching the kids!).

The Mac!

The Mac is the reason why I fell in love with trail running. In 1996, one of my best friends and I ran with her mom as she trained for the first ever MacDonald Forest 50km. When I moved back to Corvallis, I knew I had to run this race, and despite its challenges (over 6100' of elevation!), it is one of my favorites.

My anxiety for the race this year was at an all-time high - in large part because I'd set a pretty high goal for myself - finishing under 6 hours. My previous times were 6:36 and 6:35; improving by over 30 minutes was ambitious. However, I'm running better than ever and had a lot of encouragement from my running friends, so thought it might actually be doable.

I showed up early and had my vitals checked for a study on sodium and ultra-running. My blood pressure (which the day before was measured at 86/52 - normal for me) was around 100/60 and my pulse rate (which during normal activity usually hovers around 55) was already at 96 bpm. Sheesh - you'd think I was running already!

The race started as it always does - without much fanfare. The gong was rung, and we were off. Peter, Linda, and I were all hoping for sub-6 finishes this year, so I kept pace with them - which felt really fast to me. I credited running fairly conservatively for the first part of Peterson with how well I did there, so wasn't too concerned when I lost contact heading up Powder House. But when I turned onto Road 580 and saw that Meghan was running with them and Dan was running just behind, I couldn't resist and ignored the little voice telling me to be conservative and sprinted to catch up to them. When else would I be able to run with Meghan during a race?

Our little group broke up again as we crossed Lewisburg Saddle, but early on in the maze, John from Albany started running with me and we ended up running most of the race together. We chatted off and on, but mostly just having someone on my heals helped me keep my motivation to keep pushing myself.

I hit Chip Ross (22 miles) at around 4 hours and realized that my goal really was within reach. I had hoped to get to the Saddle again (now at 26 miles into the race) under 5 hours. Not quite, but close enough that my goal was still within reach, if only I could at least jog the remaining 5 miles.

Miles 26-28 didn't go so well, and despite knowing that I didn't have the time to waste, I ended up walking a decent amount of the climb up Road 500. I hit PowderHouse and pushed through - it hurt a lot, but I was almost there - and it's not like I needed to have anything left - just a little harder....

I finished in 6:03. Not quite my goal, but pretty close. And I managed to shave 32 minutes off of my previous course time. That feels pretty darn good (and was good enough for 13th woman and 68 out of 201 runners).

A few favorite moments from the day: Dennis pointing out the flowering dogwood as I left Baker Creek; Almost falling as I turned onto two bits because I was distracted by Mikio and his camera (in hind sight, it was pretty funny); The Mac Ale (already consumed!); Sam's bluegrass on Horse; April and Craig got married!; LD won her agegroup!; and the hugs, good luck wishes, offers to fill my pack, laughs, and over-all great support from all my running friends both on and off the course.