VT100

Vermont was pretty good weather this year: not too hot, not too cold, didn't rain. The hills were still there, but maybe because I remember it being so incredibly crazy hard last year, that I survived.

Good cookies, good folks to run with, lots of I'm so tireds...

I didn't have enough power in my headlamp due to weak batteries so some of the end dark portions were super dark and that was tricky.

I feel like now, it's another great year at a wonderful race. I'll be back for sure. The cookies, the people, the views - that's why I go!

TGNY 100k 2017

TGNY100 is something you have to do. The race is pretty legendary and once you run it, you realize how epic it is, and you’re a lifer.

I decided to just do the 100k. I had various reasons, but when it came down to it, I’m glad I did just the 100k. (Can we say chafing due to a pantiliner? Start crying now.)

The morning was overcast and not as hot as it has been lately, so perfect for a run. I started out having to pee, and this year, the McDonald’s in Times Square locked their bathroom. So at some early point in Central Park, I ducked into the bushes and peed. Lovely. And again.

I was running with different people, and then up close to the GWB, I spotted the port-a-potties I’ve used in the past. Okay,, NOW I WAS BETTER.

We ran through Van Cortlandt. Through Soundview Park in the Bronx, and others before it. When I looked at my watch and saw it was still morning, I smiled. How much had happened in my morning. How much there was to go.

I survived the Triboro Bridge, which is saying a lot. That bridge terrifies me. In Astoria, I fueled up and headed off….and it soon began to rain. A little, and then it was a steady drizzle. I was running with Carl from Texas, and it was kind of ridiculous. We’d look at each other and say, “Maybe it will stop soon, I think it’s clearing up….” and it would continue to pour.

At mile 50, Jen came along and I stopped to pee under a tree. The rain had mostly stopped by this point. But now, it was becoming quite clear how out of shape I was. And how bad the chafing was.

I began walking a lot more. Jen and I hung out, caught up. It was fun. It was like hanging out with a friend versus running a race.

Jen joined me in pigging out at aid stations, oversharing about our lives, and being a great friend.

I finished at 100k and was mixed at being done...but ultimately knew it was the best decision.

TGNY100k: An Amazing Way to See 100k of NYC, While Running

TGNY is a must for any NYC-based ultrarunner. Whether you run, pace, volunteer, cheer, it's an amazing experience to be part of.

American 48-hour record holder Phil McCarthy puts on this glorious race. TGNY 100 miler starts and finishes in Times Square; the 100k version starts in Times Square and runs the exact course until Forest Park, Queens, where it finishes. And it's so much fun.

The reason it's so much fun is that it's an opportunity to see NYC in a very, very different way. I had no idea that there were so many parks in NYC until I ran this race. There are tons of amazing parks. You run from one to the other. Sure, there are some sucky sections, but the awesome sections more than make up for it.

We start at 5am in Times Square...and then run north into Central Park!

And then we run alongside Morningside Heights Park, and then eventually ending up at the river. Wait, I can't detail everything. There's just too much. Here's a map, and I'll give you the highlights:

• The race is pretty low-key and cheap. Phil only provides Gatorade and water and watermelon, but the volunteer provide the rest - and they are pretty wonderful. I wasn't eating a ton, but there were a lot of great food options there.
• Van Cortlandt Park, Alley Pond Park - yes, we are trail running in NYC!!!!
• When else can you stop a race and HULA HOOP?
• When else can you discover someplace so freaking cool to run in your very own city?
• I hate the Triboro Bridge. But when you get to Queens, how wonderful.

It's funny - I ended up running pretty much the whole thing solo. I was planning on running with Ray, but he ended up having stomach issues and we were far apart pretty early on. Being alone meant I spent more time on the directions - there are turn by turn direction sheets, plus for the most part, there are arrows spray painted on the sidewalk (but not always), so it made for challenging. I pulled out my phone twice to verify that I was going in the right direction.

It felt good to get to Orchard Beach. I knew I was around the marathon mark, so that made me feel good, plus, the out and back allows you to see people.

I ran alone, but I was never bored. I looked for other runners, and rarely saw any. I was at one of those awkward "it's just me out here" moments. I found peace within myself.

There was the new entrance to Randall's Island from the Bronx, which was more like a road than a bridge - and it was really nice. Way better than in the past. On Randall's Island, my ankle hurt a bit. I decided to walk for 10 seconds, and OF COURSE I have to see a friend then. It was Matt, who was pacing Stephanie. He was so full of cheer in the most amazing way, and I tried to cheer up on behalf of him. So then I began running.

And then I got on the Triboro Bridge to Queens. This is the stuff nightmares are made of. I began trying to calm myself down, but of course was panicking like crazy.

And then - my yoga teacher Amanda was proud - I began chanting to Ganesh. I chanting repeatedly, and it helped me get over the bridge.

Post bridge, I ran with a group for the next five miles. They had their friends, and were uber cheerful. But then at the next aid station, they were dwadling, and I took off. I figured they'd catch me soon because the pain was starting to kick in; they didn't.

I began taking more walking breaks. The pain was so intense that I found myself audibly moaning. I was in a suffer-fest.

I ran. I walked. I drank water. I was thirsty. I was hot. I was getting sunburned. I was out of shape. Why was I doing this to myself? Where was the fun? Where was everyone else?

At the last aid station, a runner finally caught up with me. A French guy, "Sylvain, like Pennsylvania." I ended up running with him until the end. He pushed me, we chatted, it was so nice.

The last bit, we took off. And then - where was he? He wasn't near me...I ended up finishing almost a minute ahead of him, sure he would be crossing the line with me. 

And then I sat down, exhausted. I drank a bunch of water, stepped on and broke my sunglasses, and took off my shoes. New blisters. Lovely. Not my best, not my worst. 12:54.

A shower, some food, some water, more food...

And I was pretty good the next day.

Ultrarunning, thank you for having me back. I'm so glad to be here again!

Baby I was BORN TO RUN ULTRAMARATHON: 60 Mile Race Report

Born to Run was a lot of fun. It was a weekend of camping, running, drinking, sharing, laughing, making new friends, hanging out, being dirty, mariachi, and fun.

Oh, and my Morton's Neuroma behaved. So it was a very good weekend.

My friends have described Born to Run "kind of like Burning Man" but I always like to point out there already is an ultramarathon there, HELLO. But what it does remind me of is those early entry days of Burning Man...when no one is there...you're setting your stuff up, getting ready for stuff, hanging out, drinking, eating, talking, making new friends....it was fun. I made a ton of new friends, had great conversations, shared food and drink, chatted, laughed, enjoyed the day.

The day before there was both an archery mile (shoot three times, do a penalty mini lap for anything you miss, run 400 meters, repeat three more times....) and a beer mile. There were live bands, a bola race (the traditional Tarahumara ball game), a fire at night, sharing of food, buying food, shopping at booths, fun.

Race day was fun. Luis wakes everyone up with a shot guy and super load mariachi music. It was a pretty great way to wake up. I usually only take 20-30 minutes to get ready, so I had a long time to have multiple port-a-potty visits, stretched, eat, nap....

Luis basically told us all to smash our Garmins. He doesn't want another North Face type race with newbies knocking over each other to race race race - he wants to create community, something that I'm really into w ultras. He was so irreverent I couldn't help but love him - but I could see how certain personality types would loathe him.

We took off. I began chatting with everyone around me, feeling pretty confident I was going too fast. OH WELL. I'm always a fan of bad ideas, fast starts, and kissing without questioning. (Hey, that got me into a 4.5 year relationship that turned out to be awesome!)

The course is made up of two 10 mile loops - the pink loop which is okay, and the yellow loop, which sucks and I kind of hate, but it does have gorgeous views, so okay, I'll run it again. There are lots of rolling hills, a few steeper hills, a horrendous downhill that I could not do the last time without death-gripping onto Paul's arm.....

It's not a technical course, and I ended up running in road shoes due to a shoe malfunction. I got pretty dirty, I hated the world, and I felt like I was waaaay out of shape at the finish. (My training has jumped way up since then!)

My stomach was good - I tried the low fodmap diet the day before, and drank what Kelsey called "Smooth Operator" tea, and I only ate Hammer gels and Hammer solids. (Seriously, a food that is called a Solid? How can that be good? But really, they're not bad at all!!!)

I had fun. It was gorgeous, the crowds were great, it was a party everywhere, even when the last lap totally sucked. I wish it had been a 50 miler. But when it was done, and I had Akabill's amulet around my neck, a burrito in my belly, and a cider in my hand....I had a huge smile on my face and was ecstatic that I had been part of such a great race, such a wonderful community, and such an amazing place on this earth.

I had wanted to drop down to the 30 miler, mainly to hang out with friends. Doing the 60 was something I kind of regret. When I mentioned my desire to Paul, he said, "No, please, you have to run the 60 with me!" Not knowing my pace or anything, but feeling bad because I pretty much talked him into running, I decided, yes, I'd run. And we ended up running together, having fun, singing The Sound of Music (though Paul really needs to work on the lyrics to "Doe a Deer")....so it worked out fine. But we missed the talent show, the wrestling, a lot of dancing, and when I finished, I was so cold and shot that I couldn't really enjoy the after party that much. It's a party. Go to run some, yes, but go to enjoy the awesome environment more.

I'm running the 30 next year.


you can see how lost paul and i were....how hardcore we were racing....

all photos by paul swanson

Iron Horse 100k: A Good, Painful Kick in the Butt

Tears. Pain. Suffering. Agony. Swollen feet. Sugar sand. Palm trees. Friendship. Getting lost.

And that sums up Iron Horse 100k!

I went into the race, thinking it would be my kick-my-butt-back-into-shape race. When I was in Colombia, I ran daily but minimally; I ran generally around an hour a day. I ran 90 minutes once or twice. Then I flew back into NYC winter of snow and ice and cold cold cold - so training was greatly reduced and miserable. Very sad.

I headed down to FL to visit my Gram, see some friends (Jessica & Chris) and help with a Chaos Cooking. 

As Jessica and I drove to the race, it began to downpour. I could barely see the road; I didn't want to run in it. Ugh. Luckily, the rain had stopped by the time we began running.

Jessica was to crew me and pace me at the end and chill out with the runners; she hadn't been running for a while so was looking for a bit of inspiration. Chris let me store my gear in his car during the race (so it wouldn't get soaked on should it downpour again) and was also the Medical Director of the IH100.

The course was different this year. You head out and run 1.75 miles on a paved bike path, then turn around. You arrive back at the start and run about 2 miles on the same paved bike path (but in the opposite direction) and then turn and head onto a sandy trail. Then you do two different lollypop loops in the woods, and then head back out on the sand trail to the paved path - and that is a total of 25 miles. If you do the 100k, you have a weird turnaround but everyone runs the same race.

The aid stations are pretty basic, the volunteers uber-polite high school kids ("Can I get you water, ma'am?" Ma'am? What?! I'm such a New Yorker.), the trail pretty and a little static scenery. It was a nice race; I did it last year and I wouldn't mind doing it again.

I started out feeling good. It was a little chilly, but not bad. I had arm warmers on, and a long sleeved tee that I took off after a few miles.

I felt good and then after around 20  miles, I was running with a girl named Megan in the 100 miler. We saw a pink ribbon on a tree on either side of a gap, so we assumed we entered and ran on in. After a while, we saw some other pink ribbons so figured we were on course. Not so. According to my watch, we ran over 2.22 miles extra. Ugh. It took us a while to figure it out, and the ribbons I saw were faded pink - so probably up from last year or another event. UGH.

After getting lost, despite having led the 100k that entire way, I felt mentally defeated. Being a lollypop course, I saw how many people had passed me in the time I got lost. My head was lost.

I really was miserable but Chris made me smile.

I got back to the start/finish in tears. Jessica and Chris cheered me up and I was pretty low. I headed out for another loop.

I started to perk up. This wasn't so bad. I'd pick it up. Maybe even get my 100k lead back if I really felt good? Unfortunately, I crashed into the second loop. I had my ipod in my pocket for "emergencies" such as this. I slipped my headphones into my ears as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

I ran. I stopped and stretched. I walked a baby hill. I stretched. I ate a gel. I ran, walked, stretched, cried.

And then Major Lazer came on with "Watch for This" and I began dancing. Why the hell not? My race was shot. Why not have fun? 

I came into the aid station again with just 12.5 miles. I asked Jessica to please pace me the entire rest of the way. "I'm run-walking. Please. You can keep up."

And she did. We talked, told stories, chatted about Burning Man, about running, love, families, work, life. The moon rose in the sky as we plodded on and I felt sick. Thank you, Port-a-Potty-Gods (or the RD, Chris) for placing a port-a-potty right by the aid station.

And then I stumbled into the finish. I was so relieved to be done. I think I was second woman? Another buckle (yep, this 100k gives you a buckle), some food, and of course, a mandatory stop at Dairy Queen.

What did I learn? I'm out of shape. I'm going to use the next few weeks to gear up, to train myself as hard as I can. Also, when it sucks, blast Major Lazer. And dance when you can't run.

Iron Horse 100k Race Report (2013)

Those who don't run ultras don't know that ultras are basically awesome parties. Especially ones with out and back and loops. I mean, I get to do what I love most (running) and then I can stop in the middle and get a hug from my friend Anastasia or get blown over sideways from the gusts of air that Mike Morton pushed forth as he ran past (OMG OMG OMG) or compliment Scott Sanders as he smiles past...it's basically a party without alcohol. And the only drugs are endurolytes and tylenol and really, your mind is taking you to levels you could never even dream of achieving with drugs so it definitely is a mind-altering experience.

The start of the Iron Horse 100k was COLD. I started in my hot pink tank, pink tutu, and arm warmers. I was shivering. Teeth-chattering cold. Mile 3, I was already warmed up.

The course is quite runnable. The race instructions by the RD were a tad bit confusing, so here's my interpretation of the course: you start out by running out 1.75 miles (though some said it was more) on a paved path. You turn around at a sign, and run back. That's 3.5 miles.

Then you keep running on this paved path which has slight undulations, that somehow turn into mountains later in the race. Then it turns into trail - rocky grassy rocky trail. I wore trail shoes, which you didn't necessarily need to wear, but some runners wearing road shoes complained of the rocks bothering them at this portion. This path (along with the previous paved part) is a rails to trails (meaning once upon a time, trains went through here, but when the train service was discontinued, the ties were pulled up and turned into trails! Thus, IRON HORSE. And my railroad working/loving boyfriend was ecstatic when I gave him my shirt from the race b/c they didn't order enough smalls so he got a medium.) 

Mile 7.5 is at the top of the hill. Then you get up into an area with a minimally-stocked aid station but very friendly volunteers. You do one woods loop, which has lots of sand and sugar sand (very hard to run in) and is quite nice. Again, like the rest of the course, primarily flat with a few slight hills. You hit an aid station. Grab a handful of pretzels, fill my water. Then back to that minimally-stocked aid station. Then I do another different woods loop with a hyper aid station in the middle. Then you head back to that same minimally stocked aid station (not sure what else to call it but the RD said it was water only but they actually had iced tea packets, more on that later, and wheat thins and hard sucking candies).

Then you get back to that trail you came up - the four miles of trail and then pavement. 

Easy peasy 25 miles! And then you do it again, and for the 100k, you do a partial loop - until a little bit into the first woods loop.


I went out fairly hard - pushing it as much as I could. My asthma was really bothering me and I found myself hitting the inhaler a bit more than normal. I ran the first 25 miles in 4:00. Not bad.

Due to girl troubles and just being stupidly slow, it took me 9minutes to get out of the aid station. 

Hot, humid Florida quickly beat the crap out of me. I've been running in 20 degree/feels like waaaaay colder temps in NYC. So as the sun beat down on me, I felt treacherous. 

The water tasted terrible. Like I was drinking out of a pool. It was apparently way too much chlorine. I said something to the volunteers, but they were just kids and didn't seem to know much. I couldn't bear to drink water and I knew I desperately needed to. An aid station volunteer was brilliant to think of adding iced tea powder to my water - I didn't add very much powder to my water, so it tasted like watered-down iced tea which was really bizarre to be drinking during an ultramarathon. People told me the water made them sick; Scott said he was vomiting due to it, and another guy dropped from the 100miler to the 50miler b/c the water and the heat combo were just too much. Anyway, those little iced tea packets saved my race.

My feet felt swollen. My pinky toes are blistered. My toenails (what little ones I have) were hurting. I pushed on. I tried to not cry, but as my friend Chip said, "Cherie you always cry during races." Um, thanks.

I finished the 50 miles in 9:18 - not too bad, not as great as I wanted. My friend Jessica was supposed to pace me but unfortunately her sitter fell through so I was on my own. The last 12 miles I started out feeling like hell - and ended up running 8 minute miles for the last 7 miles. Not too bad after running that far.

I finished in just under 12 hours with tears in my eyes. I had been really pushing it hard, hard, HARD at the end...and minutes after, I could barely walk. I got an awesome buckle for the 100k. Mike Melton came up to me and said, "Ray would be proud of you." Not what I wanted, but I pushed as hard as I could - for the day.

Another day, another 100k....

100k of friends, of running, of pain, of partying....

Miwok 100k Videos!

I've never taken videos during a race before, but these two videos should give you a good idea of how I act during a 100k race...

Mile 46 or so...

Mile 57 or so....

The Miwok 100k

I was really excited to run the Miwok 100k – it was on some of the same trails as the North Face Challenge – San Francisco 50 Miler, trails that are so gorgeous you will (if you are me), shout to the nearest runner, “Oh my god! Isn’t that gorgeous?” It is that amazingly beautiful. It makes me want to pack up my cute little apartment and head to the left coast for a lifetime of amazing trail running.

The race started at 5.40a.m. on the Beach. Starting on sand was a little challenging, but fun. We quickly filed into one-by-one and headed up a trail. Some people had headlamps, but most didn’t. We all went on a short out-and-back, and I got to see some of my friends, which was really nice – and of course, be wowed by Kami Semeck, Anton K., Jen Shelton, among others.

The hills were tough, but I was feeling pretty good. However, I very quickly felt the heat. At mile ten, I dropped my long-sleeved shirt and gloves into my first drop bag, and headed on. Around mile 15, I realized I would soon be out of water. I’m usually fine at ultras – but I usually don’t run upwards of 7 miles with no water, and I’m usually not suddenly thrust into heat like this.

At the mile 19 or 20 aid station, I asked a volunteer if they had an extra water bottle. We improvised; she filled an empty plastic juice bottle with water.  I ran with this rather awkwardly the rest of the way.

The course was full of ups and downs…I got passed on those horrible, somewhat technical section leading down to the beach, but then felt strong going upwards. There was tripping, gasps at beautiful views of the water, of beaches, of rolling hills. I could not believe there were this many trails with phenomenal views, just outside one of the coolest cities in the U.S.

Mile 28.5 (and again around mile 40-ish) had a great Hawaiian theme, complete with leis, popsicles, potatoes, and very friendly faces. Scott Jurek was helping out; I think his girlfriend was running the race as well.

Everyone loved my all-pink ensemble: pink visor, pink tank, pink polka dot skirt, pink compression sleeves, pink gaiters. “The pink lady!” It cheered me up, but at the end, when people told me how good I looked, I ensured them that I felt like utter crap.

I tripped on the clumsy grass and fell. A man running behind me had me take a salt pill, and I stumbled on awkwardly. I felt like I was falling apart.

Around mile 49, I just wanted the stupid race to be over. That’s why 50 milers are my favourite race: just when you’re aching for it to be over, it is.

I continued on, mostly alone, as I was most of the race. I met some kickass people, but found myself running ahead of them or falling behind – towards the end of the race, it was mostly falling behind.

My shins were aching increasingly, on the lower anterior portions. I could feel blisters growing. I was very sunburnt, dehydrated, lacking salt, electrolytes, sugar. My asthma (usually quite in control) was not very stable and I found myself using my inhaler multiple times, especially whenever I tried to push it on an uphill. (At the end, I simply walked every uphill rather than run, for the mere reason that I was worried my asthma would not push me into a full-on asthma attack.) I was quite disoriented and was crying hysterically on and off the last 12.5 miles.

At the final aid station, not knowing there was another aid station (and hoping, oh please, we were almost at the finish), when a woman told me how much longer, I allowed myself to bawl in front of her.

“Take some ibuprofen,” she told me. “I can give you some.”

“I can’t,” I wept. “I can’t take ibuprofen.” Stupid surgery messing up everything. “I hurt everywhere,” I told her. “My shins hurt…my asthma is messed up. I have blisters and I’m so out of it. I hate this race.”

She listened to me cry. “Would you like me to run the rest of the race with you?”

I stared at her in shock. “That’s five miles!”

“So?”

“No, you need to run your race.”

And that’s why I love ultrarunners…this woman, who did now know me at all, would throw her race (and any training she had put into it) to help me – a complete stranger. (I remember at The Boston Marathon when I paused to find my endurolytes, completely dizzy and not a single runner offered support. Road runners are a different breed.)

I encouraged her to go on, and was weeping as I entered the final aid station.

The volunteers were quite concerned. They made me take endurolytes, eat jellybeans, cookies. “Sugar depletion,” they diagnosed. They asked me if I was sure I was okay, told me I would be okay. Before leaving, I threw myself in a volunteer’s arms, completely bawling. I felt selfish for crying at a wonderful, beautiful race when I have so much to be thankful for in this world, but I just couldn’t stop.

I went on, crying, eating jellybeans. I stopped crying, and pushed it up the hills. The last 3.8 miles felt like 20. I used my inhaler, cursed my shins, struggled on the climbs, cried some more.

Finally, you get to the top and see the race down below. It looks so close – but it’s SO far. Much of the downhill was on asphalt, and I’m pretty sure the course is designed this way is so that it could torture my aching shins. I almost cried with each and every step, and tried to run in a very controlled fashion.

The finish was windy, but beautiful – waves crashing in, cheers. I crossed the finish line and began crying out of control. Karen helped me, along with some of the race volunteers. They covered me with blankets as I cried, shivering, suffering. It was over, but I still hurt. I lied down on the dirt ground in front of the heat lamp with a fleece blanket saying MIWOK 100k (BTW, great race swag: a t-shirt, hat, bottle, bag, bottle of beer, blanket, more), crying, shivering.

I woke up, sunburned, in pain, feeling horrid. I felt nauseas, almost like I had the flu. Was it sunburn? Was it hell? Who knows, but it sucked.

I got this feeling of being so selfish for not enjoying this beautiful race and wonderful opportunity (especially when I won’t be able to run post-recovery), but I just couldn’t make myself do it.

Overall, it was a beautiful struggle. I’m SO glad I finished, although the end completely sucked and was painful and unhappy. However, finishing when you’re in pain – it proves just how strong you are.

And just because I’m from New York and weak on the hills doesn’t mean I’ll let the hills conquer my soul.

The future...

I'm really excited about Saturday's Miwok 100k...In the North Face San Fran 50 Miler, I was able to run on some of the trails in the area, and they're just gorgeous. I know it's an insanely tough race - the altitude profile is more than a little scary!

I don't have a specific goal time, but I hope to run a strong, happy, good race. I'd like to finish in the top half (the top third would be even lovelier!) and learn more about what makes a race a good race for me! Mostly, I love races with fantastic scenery...and that's what this is.

May will be a quiet month. I'm taking care of a medical procedure (more on that in a later post) which means NO RUNNING! If possible, I hope to run the Mayapple 100k on May 22nd, but that depends on how everything goes. We'll see.

I want to celebrate my birthday with the Peaks Race 50 Miler - sounds tough but I hope to be in shape enough for it. And then a few other random races...and Vermont 100 again in July!

But also - I can't forget who I am. I'll be doing some writing, trying to submit my novel to agents, spending time with family, friends, working on some Burning Man costumes, growing tomatoes, basil and mint on my fire escape...and discovering the glowing life inside me and the glowing life in my hometown city.

I Belong on the Trails

My next ultra is Miwok 100k...I'm so excited to hit the trails, to see some really beautiful scenery, and to run my heart out...

a few photos of the south mtn 100k!

Look at how fast we're running!

ensure and iced oatmeal cookies (that's what in my hand): food of champion ultrarunners!