That was unexpected - Waldo 100k

In 2012, I had a horrible race at Waldo 100k.  You can read my description of it if you want here, but it can really be summed up by the fact that 3 miles from the finish, I stopped dead in my tracks and started sobbing because I didn't want to go any further.  Eventually, I did start again, and I did get my hat (which, until recently, was the only hat I ran in -- because dammit, I earned that hat), but most of the race was not a fond memory.

So, of course I signed up for it again.  I felt pretty good about my training leading up to the race and everything felt good and ready for race day.  Then, the Monday of race week, I was walking down a flight of steps in a convention center, not paying attention, missed a step, and twisted my ankle.  Bad. What is it with ankles and race week?  After several days of ice, compression, and trying to stay off my feet, it felt a little better, not still not 100%.  Coach Meghan had suggested I could finish in 13:30 -- I had guessed that was a best day scenario.  Now, with the ankle, I figured I'd be happy if I just had a good day and finished in time to get my hat (i.e. by 9pm).

At 5am, we were off, running and power hiking up the road from the ski area.  I was being careful to pick a good line on the rutted, uneven road, wanting to protect my ankle.  I had no intention of getting near the front, but definitely tried to get around some people so I could see where I was going. I was feeling pretty good, and Alan Abbs' quiet banjo playing in the dark put a smile on my face.

We turned onto single track and I had a great time cruising down the soft dirt trail and chatting with Heather Culig (who would eventually come in 3rd) until I realized that I couldn't get any liquid out of my hydration bladder.  I had drunk from it earlier in the morning, but now nothing would come out. Crap. I considered stopping along the trail to figure out the issue, but decided to wait until I got to the Gold Lake AS to see if a volunteer could help me out.

I've never been tweeted about during a race before!!

We crossed the bridge into the campground, and the volunteer tracking runners called in "128 - 3rd woman off the bridge".  Huh?  Well that was unexpected. Before I could think about what it really meant to be in 3rd - I took off my pack and shoved it in Todd Miller's hands, asking him if he could figure out why it wasn't working, then headed to the table to grab some food and drink. By the time I returned, Todd had it figured out, and after a quick bathroom break, I was down the trail. A few women had passed me in aid and I quickly passed them back.

Hiking up to Fuji Peak I started thinking about what it meant to be in 3rd.  I definitely felt a bit of excitement, but it was also still so early in the race, I didn't want to get too wrapped up in thinking about this as a 'race' versus a 'run'. The climb up Fuji felt great and I was treated to an amazing view of the Oregon Cascades spread in all directions below me.  After a happy whoop, I headed back down the trail.

What had seemed technical two years ago now seemed extraordinarily runnable compared to running in the Colorado front range.  I flew down the trail on the way to Mt. Ray until .... uh oh.  A few miles from the Mt. Ray AS, I needed to stop in the woods for some ... unpleasantness.  Digestion issues had been a huge issue in 2012 and I didn't want to have a repeat of that experience. This year, I was prepared.  I pulled out some anti-diarrhea medicine and hoped it wasn't too late for it to have it's intended effect. During my brief break in the woods, a woman passed me by.  I never saw her again, but on plus side, the medicine did it's job.  yay!  

Happy runner girl (right before sheer-look-of-
terror-due-to-incognito-photographer runner girl)

Back on the trail, I leap-frogged with Curt from Placerville (who I'd met while waiting for Meghan at Western States) and David Lynn from San Diego (David ended up winning the Wet Waldo award).  David and I were sharing how much we both love running in the Pacific Northwest, and just after he made a positive comment about the lush mountain meadow we'd begun to run through, there was suddenly a strange noise and a large animal moved right next to me.  I screamed and lept into the air.  Turns out the 'animal' was a photographer who's shirt was the same color as a log. Luckily, David was similarly surprised and we giggled our way up the climb to the Twins AS. 

I had been looking forward to Twins all morning, knowing I'd see Tia Tejona (a.k.a. Gaby) and Lobo (a.k.a. Frank) there - I so miss my Corvallis running friends! and being at Waldo I almost felt like I'd never moved away. It was here that I discovered that soup was my magic-food of the day.  Nothing else on the table looked edible, but some broth and noodles?  heaven.

In the 5 miles down to Charlton, I started noticing my quads.  Still a long way to go and a lot of downhill left. Was this a bad sign? No point in worrying about it now - and I worked on focusing on the smell of the fir forest, the soft trail under my feet, and the dappled light coming through the canopy. Before I knew it, I turned into the Charlton Lake campground where I met up with Mac Smith who was going to pace me to the finish.  Charlton was great - Torro (a.k.a. Dennis) and Ardilla (a.k.a. Pam) were so encouraging - and excited for me and how well my day was going. Before I knew it, my pack was refilled, I was fueled up, and Mac and I were headed down the trail to 4290.

I gave Mac the debrief of the day to that point and told him that although I had asked how far ahead the 3rd place woman was, I wasn't set on catching her ... and in the back of my mind, I was still wondering if I was going to blow up.  Did I just stupidly go out way too fast?

The trip to the 4290 AS was relatively smooth. After more soup, ice in my pack, and some ice water on the head and neck (it was Mac's suggestion to ice off the neck - I believe I let out a moan at that point, it felt so good), we were on our way back to the Twins. I had prepped Mac that I need to eat about every 45 minutes, but am pretty bad at making myself eat, especially when I get tired.  Mac was great.  He set his alarm to go off every 45 minutes and wouldn't let me argue back. Mac chatted when I felt chatty, followed perfectly behind when I wanted, led me up the hill when I asked, offered positive feedback when I had good sections, and helped me stretch out my quads a few times when I wasn't able to get the leverage on my own (which he described to some folks at an AS as 'putting her against a tree' - another good example of how things said while running with friends can be dangerous taken out of context).  In other words, he was the perfect pacer - I'm so grateful for his help.

After some more encouragement from Tia Tejona and Lobo, we were back down the trail on our way to Maiden Lake.  It was getting harder and harder to get started after each little break, and this time, just as my legs were starting to loosen up again, I felt a sharp pain go up my right foot, accompanied by the sickening skin-slosh of a bad blister.  My first reaction was to stop, sit down, and try to fix it - Mac stopped me from taking off my shoe, and convinced me that my only option from here was to run on it.  I knew that he was right, but hated that he was right - because I also knew that I was only going to do more damage over the next 13 miles.  So much for sandal season.

I was passed by a woman during my little foot-pain pity-party and now found myself in 5th place.  I told Mac I was actually kind-of glad that I was now in 5th, as now I didn't feel like I needed to think about chasing down 3rd.  Turns out even if I had wanted to, there wasn't much of an option anyway. The climb up Maiden Peak kicked my butt.  After Meghan suggested I could finish in 13:30, I used Lobo's handy on-line calculator to estimate my splits.  I beat every split by at least a few minutes except for between Maiden Peak AS (which is actually 3 miles below the summit) and Maiden Lake AS, where I was slower by 10 minutes. 

Eating my oreo on top of Maiden Peak, with super-pacer
Mac Smith behind me.

We reached the summit of Maiden Peak just after the wedding - so happy for the couple!  Monkey Boy offered me some supportive words, then started lecturing me about my color, my pulse, drinking more, eating more. The lecture was actually enough to put some fight back in me and after telling him to back-off - I headed down the trail. Mac cautioned me to take it easy on the technical section heading down leap of faith, and I certainly wasn't going to argue with him. Now was not the time to fall.  Once we were back on smoother trails, I was able to pick up the pace into the Maiden Lake AS.  Alas, not fast enough as I was passed by yet another woman.  ugh.  6th.  okay, I may not minded dropping into 5th, but I had started to care enough that I didn't want to fall any further back in the ranking.

Despite not wanting to lose much more time, I indulged myself a bit at the Maiden Lake AS, drinking some soup and sitting in a chair for just a minute or two to rest the feet and legs. Then we were off. Just 7.5 miles left, mostly downhill.  I looked at my watch.  In my slightly dazed and confused state, I momentarily forgot how to tell time, and misinterpreting 11:50 for 11.5, told Mac that I might be able to make it to the finish in 13 hours.  No, he said.  In fact, he didn't even think 13:30 was possible - but probably 14.  By then, I realized my math error, but didn't realize he was making his own.  14 hours?  what?  did he really think I was going that slow?  seriously?  That was the last bit of fire I needed. I put my head down and ran (at least, it felt like running, though on most days, I would count the pace as a jog).  At the little uphills, I started counting.  I had to run at least 20 paces before walking. Most of the time, it was enough to get me to the top. There were some moments of grunting and some moments of me letting out little nonsensical snippets of song -- but I ran.  I only stopped for a brief walk break once, and unlike 2 years ago, I didn't burst into tears 3 miles from the finish.  Instead, I announced to Mac when my Garmin hit 60 miles, and a few minutes later, Mac told me 1.5 left to go.  Then 1.  Then 1/2. Then one last right turn, the ski lift and finish tent were in sight, I let out an 'oh god' and did my best to sprint to the finish, with Mac's encouraging words behind me.

I crossed the line in 13:15, 6th place woman, and was surrounded by the smiling faces of Meghan and my Corvallis friends. Happy. I honestly did not think a finish this fast was possible.  Meghan's 13:30 was my best day prediction - I thought 14:30 was more realistic.  A lot of factors likely led to the good day - the smooth trails, relatively cool temperatures, good training (including a lot of miles in the high country), more experience at longer distances…. but what I think is almost most important is what I’ve learned about attitude. It’s amazing the difference it can make accepting the pain and fatigue (as a natural consequence and something that’s okay) vs. falling into the downward mental spiral thinking negatively about the experience.

Huge thanks to everyone who helped make Waldo such a great race ... Meghan for both putting on such a great race and for being such an awesome coach – both in terms of the training and emotional support, Monkey Boy, Hannah, Craig, and all the other Waldo volunteers; Pam Smith for watching over me as I waddled to my car after the finish; and most definitely to Mac for making the last half of the race so much more enjoyable than it would have been otherwise.

One foot in front of the other

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The North Face Endurance Challenge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Run, Andrea, Run!

Pacing Meghan at Western States in June totally renewed my love for trail running.  I had already signed up for the Run Rabbit Run 50 miler and started thinking that I had enough time to try to get my speed up and use the race as a qualifier for States (I'd need to run it in under 11 hours).  While I have run more than 50 miles before (Waldo 100km in 2012), I struggled quite a bit in the latter part of the race.  Since I'd already been struggling on shorter races this year, I decided I needed some help in trying to figure out how to train effectively for the distance given the constraints my life puts on training.  So, a few days after States, I became one of Coach Meghan's first clients.

The training plan that Meghan put me on was great - I felt rested when I needed to, but also challenged - and approaching Run Rabbit Run, I really felt ready for the race.  Ross and I planned on heading out midday the Friday before the race, leisurely making our way up to Steamboat before the race meeting/check-in that evening.  Then it started raining.
and raining some more.
and some more.

Note the description of the rainfall level in the second line of the big paragraph.

The 100 (and more)-year flood started just a few days before Run Rabbit Run.  We were super lucky - no damage, but Colorado front-range was truly a disaster area. The morning before the race, I checked the road closure map and determined there was still a route to Steamboat open, and with a little bit of guilt (shouldn't I be doing something to help with the flooding vs. racing?), we finished getting ready to leave. Then I-70, the interstate into the mountains was closed by a landslide.  .... We decided to head up anyway, hoping that the route would open by by the time we got to the closure.  Our 3 hour drive turned into a 5 hour drive... but we managed to make it to Steamboat just as the pre-race meeting started.

Race morning was cool with some rain on the forcast.  The bunnies racing the 100 miler had some snow during the night.  With headlamps on, our pack of 50 milers started heading up the ski area.  Due to some construction, there was a small re-route that resulted in a short stretch going straight up a steep slope, followed by bushwacking across a field.  A bit more climbing on the service roads to the summit of ski area, then we hit the wonderful single track that we ran on for most of the race.  Several of the 100 mile front-runners passed us  as they were coming into the finish line - including Oregon running-friend Ardilla.

It seemed appropriate that I'd see a friend from Oregon up there since the trail reminded me so much of those in Oregon.  So much more runnable (i.e. less rocky; less technical) than the Colorado front range!  The trail wounds through pine forests, skirted around lakes, and along high mountain meadows.  While there were some good little climbs and descents, they were relatively short and there was some great cruise-time.  I felt pretty good in through here.  I was eating every 45 minutes - pieces of turkey and cream cheese roll ups, some crackers and nuts, drinking gu-brew in my pack and coke at the aid stations.

At about mile 20, we started the climb to the Rabbit Ears.  Since the course was an out-and-back, I was able to tell where I was relative to the other runners  To my surprise, I seemed to be near the front as I hadn't seen many people coming back towards me yet.  I started counting the number of women, and by the time I reached the top of the climb, discovered that I was in 10th place.

Wow!!!!!  and even better ... I hit the turn around in just under 5 1/2 hours and I still felt really good. I really wanted to finish under 11 hours so I could qualify for the Western States Lottery, and thought that it might still be doable since most of the ups were now out of the way.

Heading back down to the aid Dumont aid station, I was on a high.  I refilled my pack and headed out, expecting the miles back to the top of the Steamboat Ski area to go relatively easy.  I'd been using some positive self-talk previously when I was feeling bad ... "if this were easy, everyone would be out here", "run like Meghan, run like Gabby"  (two of the most positive people I know).  When I started slowing and feeling bad winding through the meadows and forests after mile 30, I tried to do the same.... but it just wasn't working.  I was starting to run out of gas.  I looked on enviously as people passed me at a pace that made me feel like I was standing still.  Losing my position in the top 10 caused me to lose even more steam.  Then there was the moment when I did the mental math and realized that I was definitely not going to meet my time goal.

Rabbit Ears Pass in the background.  Photo by Mark Geistweit.

I realized a bit too late that a big contributor to all of this was probably not getting enough calories.  A few aid stations hadn't had any food that looked appealling, and instead of figuring out something to eat, I went on without food (stupid, I know).  By the time I got to the last aid station, I was out of juice and knew I wouldn't meet my time goal.  The aid station volunteers said my lips were looking blue and were concerend about letting me go on; but after eating some food and drinking some coke, I felt a bit revived .

Unfortunately, running downhill hurt.  bad.  After about 100 meters, I saw Ross waiting for me at a bend in the road.  I stopped, got a hug, cried a little bit, then together we headed the rest of the way down.  Bushwacking across the slope gave my legs - and brain - enough  space that I was able to evaluate where I was --- why was I worried about the pain - I was almost done!?!  We hit the next downhill section, and I gave it everything I had.  Grunting seemed to make it easier, so I grunted.  I figured if the Queen could grunt getting into the finish at States, I could grunt here.  Finally off of the slope, we hit the last flat part before the finish, and I spotted one more woman whom I could pass - which I managed to do about 200 meters before the finish.  Up the stairs, a hug to Fred the RD (which is the official 'finish'), and I was done.

I finished in 11:33:25; 15th woman, and 78th runner over-all (out of 150).  I may not have hit my goal, but over-all I was really happy with how well I did.  I generally felt stronger on the climbs and felt like I had more endurance over-all.  For the most part, I was able to keep my attitude up; and no serious gut issues.

So next year - definitely back to RRR.  Even if the 50 is no longer a qualifier for States, I know I can hit my goal pace next year.

Rock on!

There are many ultra-marathoners who love to make disparaging comments about marathons - marathons are on pavement.  Marathons are short.  In general, I do prefer trail ultras, but there is something I love about road marathons - especially those in big cities.  ...and I have to admit, although there is a part of me that dislikes large, for-profit race organizations, the Denver Rock-n-Roll Marathon was a great race.

I've been trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon for years and several times have been off of my qualifying time by just a few minutes.  This became my second goal for my racing season and after a very short recovery period after Run Rabbit Run, I moved to the roads (which really was the only running option anyway since most of our trails were closed due to flood damage) and started doing a lot more speed work. I had some good runs - and some really bad runs, but by time I lined up in my assigned corral, I felt I was as ready as I could be.

Because of a combined start for the mini-, half-, and full marathons, there were over 12,000 people joining me at the start line.  Luckily the wave-starts worked really well, and there was none of the all-too-familiar slow shuffle at the start.

The course wound through Denver, starting downtown, gradually making it's way south, then heading back to the start.  The sinuous course made it relatively easy for spectators to get to multiple points on the course, which was a benefit for us runners - the crowd support was awesome!  There were very few points where there wasn't someone on the side of the road cheering us on.  There were some great signs, too: "I don't know you, but I'm proud of you", "Smile if you aren't wearing underwear", "You're running better than our government".  And so many cute kids, their hands out waiting for high fives.  Engaging with the crowd was energizing - more than once, interacting with them helped me get out of a brief funk - that energy made me feel light and feeling light meant running faster.  It was great.

My strategy for the race was to keep my pace below 8:28 minutes per mile, but especially for the first half, not push too much on the (many) mild uphills and let gravity help pull me down.  I ended up running the first half a bit faster than I'd intended - 8:07 average pace - but I'd felt under control and relaxed the whole time. Around miles 17-20, there was a lot of sneaky-uphill.  It didn't really look uphill, but was indeed steadily up. Coach Meghan had rightly warned me that I might feel a bit discouraged here.  My goal through this section was to go no slower than 8:45, but also keep my heart-rate in check.  Interacting with the crowd, thinking "run like Gabby, run like Meghan" (two of the most positive, in-love-with-running people I know), and when I needed to, telling myself that I was not going to let the Blerch hold me back (if you aren't familiar with the reference, you really need to check out this blog - I loved it so much I bought the shirt, which is the shirt I was wearing during the race), and reminding myself that if this was easy, everyone would be out here - of course it hurts and that's okay - helped me through this stage.

Mile 22 - four miles to go, and unless things really blew-up, I knew I was going to make my goal of finishing under 3:40.  I told myself to go for it - I managed to pick up my pace and started playing the "pick off other runners game".  Mile 22-23 (or was it 24-25?) seemed to go on forever, but I was also starting to feel really excited about being so close to finishing within my goal.  I ran up the short, steep hill around mile 24/25, then tried to find an even higher gear.  When a runner approached, I just ran faster - I was not going to let anyone pass me - not so close to the finish. Mile 26, then one more turn, and the finish line was in sight and I was sprinting...

...and then I was done.  26.2 (my Garmin actually says 26.4) in 3.37.59, average pace - 8:20 min/mile.  I found out the next day that this was good enough for 7th in my age/gender group (out of 312), 62nd out of 1,996 women, and 329th out of 4376 overall.

I was soo happy - and so trying to not cry because I was soo happy (medical people tend to get a bit concerned when they see runners crying at the finish line).  Everything went perfectly - I qualified for Boston and got a marathon PR.  Thanks so much to Coach Meghan to all the great advice and encouragement!
________________
Nutrition:
Before the race - 1 poppyseed bagel with peanut butter & honey, tea, and some Gu-Brew
Handheld bottle - 16 oz of Gu-Brew
Gatorade at 2 aid stations early in the race
Cliff shots or Rocktane Gel shots followed by a cup of water every 45 minutes

Gear:
Shoes:  Saucony Kinvara 4
Socks:  the thicker Injiji toe-socks - love these!
compression calf-sleeves
short-sleeve tech shirt - The Blerch!
light weight gloves
Waldo hat

No good pictures of me from the Marathon, but a week later, I ran - and placed 3rd in the Louisville Monster Dash 10km.  Not bad for still being very much in recovery from the marathon - and running in a pink fairy skirt!

Pacing the Queen

My first Western States adventure started several months ago when, during a run in the foothills of Colorado, I told Meghan that I was interested in crewing for her at the next WS.  I also mentioned that if she found herself needing a pacer and thought I would be a good pacer for her, that I'd be happy to do that, too.  Fast forward several months, and Meghan was picking me up from the Reno airport on the Thursday before Western States to crew and pace for her (you can read Meghan's race report here:  http://runningmegleg.com/2013/07/29/western-states-100-2013/)

We got a decent amount of sleep (though I still felt guilty that picking me up from the airport kept Meghan up late two nights before the race).  After lazily eating breakfast and checking email, I headed down to find Meghan at check-in, and found myself in some version of a runner's paradise.  Everyone who was in the village was either a runner or a supporter of runners.  While there was definitely some anticipatory anxiousness in the air, over-all, the mood was mostly seemed to be excitement.

Wandering around, I ran into several of my Oregon-running-friends.  Although I no longer live there, I still feel the pride of being from a state with such a strong running community, especially in the women's field.

From the top of Emigrant Pass

I had been struggling with how to manage my training prior to the race.  On one hand, I thought that I should treat it like a race and be sure to taper so I'd have fresh legs.  On the other, I knew that there would be much higher temperatures when I was running than I typically run in (I'm normally a morning runner) so I wanted to get in some heat training miles.  I decided to do a combined-
approach, getting in some longer miles in the heat early in the week, and backing off the mileage later.  I originally planned on just going for a short, flat run on Friday, but Meghan encouraged me to head up to the top of Emigrant Pass with Hannah (one of Meghan's friends from Eugene and her 'crew chief').  This climb was the first 4 miles of the course and from the top you can see west into the canyons that the course runs through.  I was so glad I followed her recommendation.  The views from the top were gorgeous and it was fun getting to know Hannah better.  The fairly steep run down from the top actually felt pretty good. I was happy with how well my quads were feeling and just hoped that they wouldn't be too sore the next day.

With Meghan a few minutes before the start.

At 4am Saturday morning, I woke up to, "It's 4 o'clock" and "my alarm didn't go off".  Crap!  Only 1 hour to race time!  The amazing thing was that despite this, Meghan was calm (or at least did a good job appearing calm).  Shortly before 5, Hannah, Larry (Hannah's boyfriend), Jason (who would take the second pacing leg), Blaine (Jason's wife), and I joined the crowd of people near the starting line. We hugged Meghan, got a few photos, wished her luck, then found our spots overlooking the starting line.

As soon as they were off, so were we.  Meghan had estimated her splits, and we had 3 hours to pack up the cars, drive down to Auburn, do our shopping for the day, then get to our first aid station assignments.  As Jason and I started heading down to Duncan Canyon after the stop at the store, we realized that we were cutting it much closer than we had intended to, and it was hard to drive any faster because of the narrow twisty road we were on.  Jason started making up Meghan's water bottles and packing the portable cooler on our approach to the parking area.  As soon as we got to the trailhead, Jason jumped out of the car and sprinted to the starting line.  I was able to find a parking spot within a few minutes, and followed him.  I saw the crews for Pam Smith and Aliza Lapierre coming down the trail as I was heading up - they said that Meghan hadn't come through yet, but would be soon.  I was lucky - I got there just as she came in.  Water bottles exchanged, Powergels handed over, and she was back down the trail. Feeling relieved that we didn't miss her, Jason and I went back to the car, then headed to our next stop, Dusty Corners.

We had a bit of a wait at Dusty Corners and were able to see the first 10 or so men come through the aid station.  Things were already heating up - it was over 80 degrees in the shade - so high on everyone's list was getting cooled off with water and ice.  Pam Smith came through first - a lead that she expanded on all day.  The rest of the top women were spread out over the next 10 minutes.  Meghan looked good coming through - we repeated the crew duties, then headed down to Forest Hill.

The race course goes down the Main Street in Forest Hill.  We found a shady spot on a side street just a few blocks from the aid station and occupied ourselves with eating, trying to stay off our legs, and checking the race updates on UltraLive.net and IRunFar twitter feeds.  After Meghan got through Michigan Bluff, Jason headed down to Bath Road to run with Meghan into Forest Hill and I positioned myself about 50 meters up the road from the aid station.  It was great to run into April (Trucha), Craig (Tibarron) and their new baby Linnea while I was waiting for Meghan to come through.

Then there she was and my pacer duties started.  After making sure she got what she needed in the aid station, we headed down the road to the Cal Street section of the trail.  It was awesome to hear so many people cheering for her.

Crossing the American River

Pacing Meghan was awesome.  The section that I got to run with her was beautiful - mostly rolling single track above the American River. Meghan took the time to hug some folks she knew and saw along the way.  It didn't seem to take long at all until we reach the American River.  The volunteers holding the cable across the river pointed out every rock and hole.  Taking Meghan's lead, I dunked myself all the way in - after the heat and dust of the day, the cold felt amazing.

Heading up to the Green Gate

At the other side, the rest of the crew met us and we went as a group to the Green Gate Aid Station, after which Jason left to pace Meghan to Auburn.  We all met up again in Auburn, a few miles from the finish.  It was amazing to run with Meghan onto the track. 

The next morning, we all sat and watched the last few hours of the race unfold.  It was so inspirational to see some of those last finishers - some coming in on their own, others surrounded by family.  Some who found the ability to truly run from the entrance to the track to the finish line; others who I wondered how they kept moving.  Watching it all unfold, I decided that I was going to try to qualify for the race next year.  I'd been struggling a bit with motivation the last few months and my WS weekend reminded me of why I fell in love with ultras - Dean Karnzes described it in Ultramarathon Man, when he wrote,“Struggling and suffering are the essence of a life worth living. If you're not pushing yourself beyond the comfort zone, if you're not demanding more from yourself - expanding and learning as you go - you're choosing a numb existence. You're denying yourself an extraordinary trip.” And if I don't qualify?  I hope to be back at WS next year anyway, because being supporting others in that pursuit is an awesome thing.

Golden Gate Dirty 30

I have a new standard for a tough 50km. 

In the first few months after moving to Boulder, as soon as I saw a relatively close ultra open, I signed up.  Trail running and racing had become such an important part of my life in Corvallis, it seemed logical to jump right in in my new state.  As with so many other things in life, there were several unexpected factors that meant that my training and racing in Colorado wouldn't meet my expectations.  Probably the biggest factor is that I've been working -and traveling for work- a lot more than I'd thought.  I've also been struggling with finding my running community in Boulder.  There certainly isn't a lack of runners, but I haven't yet found a group who's training schedule and routine really matches mine.  On top of that, for the past 9 months, I've been trying to get used to how different it is to run in Boulder compared to the Pacific Northwest.  I am neither a good downhill runner nor am  I particularly quick with my feet, so the long technical downhills in Colorado have been quite a challenge.

I'd heard of Golden Gate Dirty Thirty (actually a 50km, despite 'thirty' in the title) a few times before the entry opened.  The way people talked about it, it sounded a bit easier, something that people often did as their first ultra.  I signed up without looking at the elevation profile and then focused on training up for Quad Rock 50 miler, figuring that the training for Quad Rock would also be sufficient for Golden Gate.

The first monkey wrench in those plans was that I ended up doing only the 25 miler at Quad Rock, so instead of Golden Gate being a 'recovery' race, Quad Rock become a training race for Golden Gate.  The second was that the elevation gain for Golden Gate certainly was much more than what you would find for a typical 'entry level' 50km.  The course has over 8000 feet of climbing (and descending), between 7500 ft. and 9500 ft.  So I adjusted my expectations and figured that I would probably finish closer to 6 1/2 -7 hours, than the 6 hours and under that I had aimed for in my last several 50kms in Oregon.

 
So, come race day, I wasn't feeling like I was in my best condition, but I was also feeling relatively confident in my ability to finish the race with a decent result.  If nothing else, my suffer-fest during Waldo had introduced me to a level of perseverance and stubbornness in myself. 
 
As soon as we started running, I felt nauseous.  I knew we were starting fairly high, but I'd thought that living  mile high would have given me some prepared me fairly well.  Apparently not.  This was one of my biggest struggles of the day - not getting too negative about it and instead focusing on what I could actually eat that wouldn't turn my stomach.  Unfortunately, one of the things that made me feel worst was the EFS gel that I'd previously found surprisingly enjoyable.  Dealing with elevation-induced nausea is actually a lesson I was given during Siskiyou Out and Back a few years ago, where my legs felt great - I just felt like I was going to puke the whole time.  Instead of focusing on who sick I felt, I tried to focus instead on my breathing, how my legs, felt, the sensation of moving my body in space, and the wonderful scenery around me.  Despite how I felt, I ate on schedule (a good squirt of gel every 30 minutes and at least 100 calories of food plus some coke at aid stations).  If food make me sick, I'd evaluate if I was staying up with electrolytes.  If I was, then I'd tell myself that it wasn't actually *me* that was the issue - that it was just a normal part of being up high, and turn my attention elsewhere.  This mostly worked.
 
Despite the queasiness, the beginning of the race felt pretty good.  There was a bottleneck of runners getting through the first climb, but that helped to keep my pace in check.  The downhill wasn't too technical, and I was happy that I was able to open up a bit and gain some position in the pack.  The first significant climb was tough, but I was able to power hike up pretty well.  On the cruise down to the first aid station, I snuck through some trees for a potty-break, came back out, and about 100 meters down the trail realized my sunglasses had gotten pulled off my hat.  Doh!  I actually ran back to look for them briefly - to no avail.  Luckily we were in the trees most of the day and it was a bit overcast as well, so I didn't miss them too much during the race.

The trail was a mix of single track, double track, forest road, dirt gravel, non-technical, technical, scrambling up rocks - in other words, a bit of everything.  There were some gorgeous stretches of single track that wound through mountain meadows, where it felt more like flying than running.

I felt like I handled most of the climbs relatively well and was able to pick up some good speed on a lot of the downhills.  For most of the race, I thought that I'd easily be able to pull out a 7 hour finish.  Then I hit mile 22.  This downhill just plain hurt.  I tried to open up my stride and let gravity pull me down, but the surface was off-camber and uneven, and although it wasn't particularly difficult, I slowed down more than I sped up.  This was then followed by the climb up to Windy Peak.  I don't really have much to say about the climb other than it was long and slow.  I got passed way too many times both on the way up and the way down.  I think it took me almost 2 hours to do the last 6 miles. But, everytime I started to go to that bad place mentally, I'd remind myself of Waldo, of the last big climb up to Maiden Peak and the run into the finish that was way harder than it seemed like it should have been, and reminded myself that if I could do that, then I could certainly do this.

I ended up finishing in 8:05:43, 43 out of 71 women; 198 out of 255 finishers.  So - not horrid, but certainly not what I expect out of myself.  Run Rabbit Run 50 mile is coming up in September, and I know that I really need to focus more on (1) picking up speed on downhills, (2) the transition from uphill to downhill, and (3) training hard at elevation  (in addition to the usual increase endurance, increase foot turnover) -- especially if I'm going to try to get a qualifying time for Western States (more on that in my next post).