Fifth year at the Mac

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

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

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

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

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

Fringe-cup (Tellima grandiflora)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Running through the larkspurs

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

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

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

Managed to run across the finish line

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

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

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

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

Recovery:  Wine tasting with mom on Mother's Day

My magical unicorn day

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

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

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

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

Coach Meghan's Boston girls - with Martha Staples.

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girls from Wellesley College

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

participant

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

totals

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

splits

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

That was unexpected - Waldo 100k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.