Sucky Breathing for 50 Miles: The Dick Collins 50 Miler

So this race report is a long time in coming...mainly because I've felt the repercussions of running 50 miles when I shouldn't have. This is a race I should have DNF'd. But oh well, I didn't, I ran, I struggled, and I got some pretty cool schwag. 

The Dick Collins Firetrails 50 Miler is a great race. The course is tough but gorgeous - lots of climbing, lots of descending, great views. The aid stations are top notch, there's food at the finish, the schwag is great, and it's the day before San Francisco Decom so I get to have my Burning Man fix the next day. It works out. 

A week and a half before my race, I came down with the flu. I struggled to work, and ended up taking a bunch of sick day and cuddling in bed with my cats. I should've taken a sick day when I flew across the country. ("Are you sure it's a good idea to fly when you feel like that?" "I'd just be in bed. On the plane, I'll just be sitting in a chair sleeping and reading." UM NOT THAT EASY.)

Though my flu had ended, I was still not 100% at the starting line. And around 10, 12 miles into it, I knew that my race was going to be a suffer-fest.

Every time there was an uphill, I had to walk. And not just walk, but walk slow. Walk with breaks to bend over and gasp for air.

The weird thing was, I was wheezing. As a cough-variant asthmatic, I'm not used to wheezing. It sucks. It sucks a lot.

So basically, I had to slow down a ton. I had to walk every hill, slowly, taking breaks. I took my inhaler 10-12 times. Nothing happened. I felt horrendous.

I finished. Somehow. It sucked. It wasn't even like my legs hurt after, because my lungs slowed me down and all I could think about was I CANNOT FREAKING BREATHE.

After I finished, I went to the medic. She listened to my lungs. "You're wheezing. And your heart is beating fast." I mentioned the 10-12 puffs of albuterol; she clarified that was why.

She recommended a hospital visit that night if things didn't improve; they didn't improve, but I was up at my friend's in the middle of the mountains, in the middle of nowhere. Things got worse and worse, and it's been a rollercoaster of a month of doctor visits, chest x-rays, medication, rest, and not breathing. Kind of sucked, but I'm pretty sure it's going to get better. How can it not?

Umstead 50 (!!!!!!!!!!!!) Race Report

good friends on a nice run in the park

Umstead was to be my comeback race.

Comeback from injury.

Comeback from grief.

I didn't run exceptionally well - but I finished. My morton's neuroma was not really bothering me, except when I felt a few flashes of numbness towards the end, and I simply took some walk breaks. My stomach was off. (Port-a-potty queen!) I ran my slowest Umstead first-50 mile split ever, but WHO CARES? My morton's neuroma was okay!

A few days before the race, Tony and Ray began trying to egg me on to do the 100. I crazily pondered it, but did not. A few reasons:

1. I hadn't trained for a 100 miler. How much would it suck to run and recover if I hadn't trained? Bleh.
2. It was going down to 26 degrees F at night. Ummmmmmm, no.
3. I wanted to spend time with my sister and her family without being out-of-my-mind exhausted. 
4. I was afraid that I could hurt myself. I was really nervous that 50 miles might be doable, but 100 could destroy me. I knew this could be the case, so I stopped at 50.

I began the race in good spirits - I had so many friends that I was chaotically running around like a maniac while saying hi while trying to find moleskin while arranging my stuff while catching up...

Umstead is a 12.5 mile loop course - rolling hills on carriage trails. The hills seem easy the first loop or two, and then, by the end, you are cursing the park. Unfortunately, the temperatures were the coldest I have ever experienced there, and this definitely impacted the runners. The aid stations are well-stocked and the volunteers super friendly.

And then we were off! I began running with Tony and immediately knew I was out of my league. I have only been running slow and short since, ohhhhhh December. And slow like, 10-12 min mile slow. Ha.

But I stuck with him. We had fun, chatting, gossiping, catching up.

On the 3rd lap, I began to feel dizzy and just crap. I told Tony to go ahead; I needed to walk. We were pretty close for a while, but I took my time, stopping to pee, and then, my stomach began to fall apart (I really need to figure this out). I spent some quality time in the port-a-potties over the next two laps.

My sister came around mile 44, and that was nice. I ate some animal crackers and chatted with her.

just behind tony through the chute

As I got closer to the finish, I could ALMOST feel the weirdness w my neuromas...and began walking more. No pain, but that *feeling* that's hard to describe. Walking was fine. I wasn't in a rush.

I finished. 9:38:38. My slowest Umstead, but my neuromas were okay. That was all that mattered! This was huge!

I hung out with some friends, drinking amazing hot cocoa that Brandi made for Bruce and I, and then began to cough. My asthma was not happy. I hopped in my car, and began the perilous drive on the course. I luckily hit no runners, and got to cheer on the friends I had wanted to stay to see in at 50 miles.

Then I got to my sister's, played with her kids, and spent the rest of the time eating, chilling, and snuggling. It was a different Umstead, and a fun one.

Dick Collins 50 Miler 2014: Hills, Madelines, and Super Nice People

I was pretty excited to run the Dick Collins 50 Miler. I hadn't run a 50 miler in quite a while, since May at Bear Mountain (which is so tough and technical it's more like a 75 miler than a 50, ugh). I had PRd on this course, so was hopeful, even though it was 2 weeks since Hinson 24 hour, and 3 weeks since North Coast 24 hour. Ouch. I felt it.

I started out, pretty excited and happy to run! It was so pretty. I was chatting up a storm with everyone around me, pointing out all of the pretty views. The course is just jaw-dropping, and oh yeah, this is totally normal for California and everyone stares at you like you are an alien when you scream, "OMG LOOK AT THAT VIEW," and they say, "That looks like everywhere out here. What is wrong with you?" Ooops. New Yorker.

There's a different vibe to running out in California; there's history. I mean, GORDY was in the race. Swoon. Gordy, the father of ultrarunning. People said, "Western," and they meant Western States. OBVIOUSLY. Everyone was amazed I came out for this race, but I told them they shouldn't be. It's an awesome race, beautiful, AND very importantly, the day before San Francisco's Burning Man Decompression.

The course is not easy but beautiful. Lots of ups and downs. I kept saying, "I don't remember the course being this hard!" Up and down, more ups than downs, it seems, but as the course was pretty much out and back, you know it really wasn't. My hamstrings felt DESTROYED. I kept stopping to stretch. They hurt so terribly.

I saw an old ultrarunning friend Steve, who was working an aid station while he was injured. He didn't mind the sweaty hug. 

I'll admit; the food at the aid stations weren't quite as good when Ann Trason was RD. I basically ran a 50 mile all-you-can-eat buffet when she was RD. This was still quite good - grilled cheese at the turnaround, yay. They had these little packages of madelines, and given that I adore madelines and bake them, I ate approximtaely 400. Well, not that many, but I couldn't stop eating them and had to restrict myself. I knew I wasn't burning that many calories, ha.

I pulled it into the finish, way slower than I thought and hoped. Blisters, soreness, but I was okay. I was disappointed, but I guess my legs are just too slow right now. Sigh. Oh well. Next year, I'll be fresher!

And yes, next year, I'll be back.

We got pretty good schwag - tshirts, wine glasses, little reusable backpacks, fleeces. The post-race BBQ was nice, the volunteers friendly, and I'll def be back! See you next year on the trails!

Bear Mountain 50 Miler: No Matter What, It Eats You Alive

Bear Mountain. It's a tough place. Why the hell would anyone run an ultramarathon?

As Sir Edmund Hillary so-famously said, "Because it's there."

For the 5th time, I set out to run the North Face Endurance Challenge Bear Mountain 50 Miler. I had just run Lake Waramug 50 Miler the week before, but figured I'd probably be okay.

Hmmmm, that's to be debated.

This course is one of the toughest 50 milers out there. Steep uphills, impossible to run downhills (due to steepness and loose rocks), twists, turns, more uphills, rock gardens, rocks, rocks, more rocks, and just butt-kicking trails for 50 miles. Fun, right?

The North Face puts on a fairly basic race, with very basic aid stations, no frills. The volunteers are very nice, but some of them have never been to an ultra before. (We probably horrified them, shoveling M&Ms into our mouths with muddy hands while rubbing lube on ourselves....) The course is very pretty, and also, pretty tough.

I started out HARD. I suck on the technical, so I run hard where I can. While running the initial part, I quickly realized that um, I probably should have changed the batteries before the race. Ooops. So it was dark and that was a little tough.

Luckily, it got light quickly...

The course is tough enough as it is, but on Wednesday, it poured all day. I think it may have even rained some on Tuesday too, and even Thursday morning, but Wednesday, it just poured the entire day. I ran twice and both times it sucked. I literally have to change every article of clothing because I was soaked through, even through my rain jacket. Ugh. So the trails were basically mud puddles for 50 miles, with lots of streams too. The stream crossings that you can normally pop across with some careful positioning on rocks had submerged rocks. 

My feet were wet and muddy for 50 miles.

I changed my socks once and wish it could have been more. My feet felt horrid - I kept getting mud underneath the pads of my feet, and it hurt so terribly. My gaiters did nothing because the mud kept seeping in from the top. 

I was running pretty hard the first 10 miles and felt good. I sucked on the technical, but did what I could, and ran hard. At the second aid station, I got there, and was still ahead of mid-pack, and there were FOUR pretzels. Four. I ate three of them, as I was starving, but how could they be running out of food so early? Aid stations were running out of gels and all sorts of things. It sucked.

I was also hungry - really weird for me. Before 3 hours had passed, I had already eaten 4 gels - which is really weird for me, as I rarely have such a strong appetite running, esp for gels. This become problematic as I ran out of gels before my drop bag, and ended up eating a lot more solids than normal. But my tummy was mostly okay the entire race (good thing since they didn't seem to have any ginger ales).

I ran. I walked. I laughed. I breathed hard. I ate gels. I drank water. I looked at how gorgeous it was. I had fun.

The course had changed in a few spots, so that was a little confusing to me. I think it may actually have become easier.

The mud was hurting my feet. The front of my shin sometimes hurt. My back hurt from my water bottle waist belt. But it was fun. Why was I doing it? It was fun. I ran with so many of my friends, and got to chat with heaps of great people.

Clearly I am psycho to be posing like this just before the 50k. (photo (c)Kenneth Tom 2014)

Around 40, I felt okay. Not amazing, but okay. I set out from Anthony Wayne, crunching on those Delta cookies I saved from my last flight and pretzels. And then I began running. YES!!!!!!!!!!!

I picked up the pace, passed some people, ran with others, and chatted. I caught up to Melissa and we ran, chatting for a while. Then we got to that section where it's a ton of steep downhill with lots of loose rock. I noticed the front of my shin started hurting. Ouch. More than before. When I pulled into the pre-Timp Pass aid station, I let the medics ice me as I shoveled pretzels into my mouth. Then I left, refusing Ibuprofin as I had already taken Aleve. As I headed towards Timp Pass, which is the worst part of the course (You climb up a steep mountain and then back down, and running is pretty impossible w the steepness and loose rocks....), tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I tried to stop and stretch, and nothing would help.

The last five-ish miles were a death march. I was in agony. I stopped to rub, walked, ran when I could, and oh, was I in pain.

A mile before the finish, probably less, John Budge caught up w me. We finished again, so happy to see each other. As soon as I finished, I immediately went to the medical tent to get ice for my legs. And rest my weary feet....

Finishing again w John Budge. (Photo (c)Chip Tilden 2014)

It's Monday now. I begged my doctor to squeeze me in and despite resting for two days, I still had pain. They aren't sure if it's tendinitis or a stress fracture. An MRI tomorrow will determine that. Until then, I'm icing, resting it, and wearing a splint. And looking forward to the next time I will run, which will NOT be Bear Mountain.

Lake Waramug 50 Miler: a Lot of Pretty, a Lot of Wind, a Lot of Pain, and a Lot of Fun

I knew Lake Waramug wouldn't be the same without running with Tony, but I was still excited and hopeful to run the Lake Waramug 50 Miler. I was hopeful for a PR, for a good race, and knew I'd have lots of fun with so many familiar faces out there on the course.

Lake Waramug is a 50k, 50 miler, and 100k on a loop course around a pretty lake in CT. There are rolling hills, but nothing crazy. The lake is notoriously windy, so while my friends were enjoying a perfect-to-be-outside spring day in NYC, I was shivering in two long sleeved shirts and pants at Lake Waramug.

I started out with a bunch of my friends, running at a pretty good pace - I was sub 9 minute miles for the first 14 or so miles, and then up to sub 10 minutes miles for quite a bit longer. 

I was wearing a water bottle on waist belt because I had gloves on; when I use a handheld with gloves, I end up having issues with my hands getting cold. However, the waist belt was bothering my back, which caused me some issues. I also had pain occasionally in my lower left shin.

I started feeling like crap, but mostly kept up a somewhat decent pace. My eating was weird; I had zero appetite for things I normally love there, like grilled cheese, but I kept up a steady intake of pumpkin pie. I believe pumpkin pie is the secret weapon to this race - and I ate plenty of it to prove it.

The aid stations are good and fun. The volunteers are friendly. With aid every 2ish miles, you are never far from a friendly face and nutrition. 

I finished the 50 mile in 9:06 - far from what I was hoping to achieve, but not a bad time at all. I was shivering almost instantly, and changed into warm dry clothes. They had post-race food (burgers, veggie burgers, rice and beans) and I ate some with Mary (who ran the 50k) while we huddled in the warmth of Ray's car, waiting for him to finish his 100k.

Overall, it's a great course, perfect for a PR. The volunteers are great, the RD is great (though there will be an RD change for next year), and it's a lot of fun. 

The road surprisingly beat me up; I was more sore the day after Waramug than I was the day after the Umstead 100 Miler!

Finger Lakes 50 Miler Race Report

The mud made it interesting. Anyone who tells you otherwise doesn't know how to have fun.

I signed up for Finger Lakes Fifties because it's my friend Mary's 50 mile birthday party. Normally, I'd taper a bit more (maybe just do a 50k) two weeks before a 100 miler, but I really greatly prefer 50 milers to 50ks. So I ran the 50 miler.

The course is a 16.5 mile loop you do three times if you're running the 50miler, plus a "baby loop" of a half mile that of course felt like MUCH longer when you were doing it. The course was mostly runnable, with some hills that I ran a little bit too hard, but whatevs. Not exceptionally gorgeous, but pretty.

The course was not marked very well. Most trail runners know that you can easily zone out, and although I was paying very close attention, I panicked completely in one section b/c there was a long section with absolutely no ribbons or arrows, and I was convinced I was lost and was on the verge of hysterics when I finally saw an arrow. I also got lost and ran an extra mile or more, and I did it with a guy who finished third at Barkley last year. The only person to have ever finished Barkley third. And my friend Tara was behind me and made the same mistake. And one of my teammates got lost in the 25k and did it three times. ARGH. 

The aid stations were quite basic - nothing special, and ran out of things by my third loop. (I heard reports of volunteers not wanting to open new soda bottles for runners wanting Coke in later loops bc the race was "almost" over. Sad.) I'm of course spoiled by races like Vermont 50 and Vermont 100 and of course Burning Man 50k where people go out of their way to make exceptional aid stations. 

I got lost early on and I was so pissed. I was racing hard, hoping to have a decent race. I didn't know the course but my main goal was to race a solid race, ideally under 10 hours. It kind of killed to run 10:02.

I ran the first loop in 3 hours, not bad considering I spent a mile or more getting lost. The second loop I slowed down a tad, but ended up running 3:13ish. I came through the second woman - well, the first 50k woman won, and now I was the second woman through. If I stopped, I could've been automatically second woman (age group award) but I wanted to run the 50 miler. So I kept going.I was first for 50 miler. And it kicked me in the ass when I was passed at 44miles. ARGH. But second place isn't too bad...it's actually quite nice.

The last loop went to hell. The mud had dried up a bit, but the bugs were WORSE. I was covered with mud, and my eyes were apparently a destination vacation for the bugs of the Finger Lakes. It was awful. Wayne was pacing me and we kept stopping for him to squirt water in my eyes or trying to get a bug out. UGH. I didn't even look at my legs but when I stopped at the end, I noticed a big bug dance party on my muddy legs. Basically, I was absolutely sexy and should have scored a giant modeling contract post-race.

My caloric intake was a little low; I only had a few gels (Strawberry Banana Gu and Apple Cinnamon Hammer Gel), some of the Clif Shot blocks (Tropical Punch) and ginger ale, when they had it. My tummy felt a little weird and perhaps I bonked due to calories?

The funnest part of the race was camping before and after. Well, honestly, if I ever did a race like this, I would be sure to have a real shower after (kind of gross to not....baby wipes and water only do so much). But it was nice to drink some yummy black cherry cider w some good friends, relax, hang out by our campsites. 

I'm not sure I'd be back....

Next up, Vermont 100 miler!

North Face Endurance Challenge DC 50 Miler - Fun, And Why Not?

When corporations put on ultramarathons, well, you lose some of the specialness. You don’t get homemade cookies at aid stations, or medals that differ year to year (Hey, they got a good deal on medals years ago…and use the same exact medal for all of their races, regardless of distance.) and lots of newbies without a respect for the trails (I saw one dimwit actually toss his trash INTO the woods, you know, so it didn’t spoil the trail itself.). But still, it can be a fun race.

The temperatures were predicted to be in the 90s all week, so we were getting emails from The North Face reminding us too hydrate. Too bad they didn’t take the severity of the heat into consideration and stock their aid stations with lots of ice. I was a 50miler, and ran a fairly decent time, and still, I found the aid stations to be lacking ice. Cold (esp ice cold) water is absorbed faster than lukewarm water, and we really needed to be on top of hydration on a hot day like race day.

I started out in good spirits, running at a good clip, feeling fairly well. I was jockeying between 3^rd and 4^th woman for the first ten or so miles…and then my stomach began torturing me. I ran into the bushes, a portapotty, the bushes, the bushes. Oh, what fun. I subsisted on gels and Clif Shot Blocks (tropical bunch flavor, baby). A lot of the food tasted funny or was soggy w the humidity. Yuck. I don’t know why I’m picky when running ultras but I am.

The course consists of running about 2 miles, then doing a lollypop loop, then running out about 6.7 miles without aid stations (which was pretty hard in the afternoon to handle this section with just one bottle of water). Then you do this 7-ish mile loop three times. And then you run back that entire first section.

There’s dirt. Some rocks (inc where I smashed my foot really, really hard the first time – and I ended up taking it super duper easy the rest of the times bc my foot was absolutely throbbing). Some hills. Some heat. Some high grass. Some pretty views of the river.

Well-organized, yes. The special loving touches of an ultra, no. They ran out of ice, ran low on some goods. It seemed like those volunteering at aid stations and buying supplies had never run an ultra. I would get to an aid station and they would want me to fill my own bottle – which normally is fine but not usual but my hand is actually severely and painfully injured with awful tendintis – ouch – so I couldn’t open a bottle. I’d have to ask every time.

I had tummy problems, that smashing the foot problem. The heat wasn’t killing me – but around 42 or 43, I started feeling woozy…I knew it was the heat. I had seen people passing out and not responsive – so I consciously began to walk, dump water on my head, hoping to cool myself down.

I finished – 9:51, a better time than last year, not what I had wanted to do, but quite respectable given the circumstances.

Sweaty stinky mess, yes. And loads of fun. A lot of newbies who didn’t know to pick up their gu wrappers. But what a fun day regardless. Pretty and running is almost always fun.

It Was a Bear of a Race at 2013 Bear Mountain 50 Miler

I run North Face Endurance Challenge Bear Mountain 50 Miler because it is nearby to me, because I love Bear Mountain, and because it challenges me. I am not the strongest technical runner, but I do it for these reasons. Oh and tons of my friends run it, so it basically feels like a big party. Run a little faster, run with one friend. Slow down, run with another.

I had a lot of fun during the race due to running with a lot of awesome people, especially Amy who I met during Traprock. I also spent time meeting other awesome runners, like Caitlyn from Boston/now Costa Rica, and Ashley from Brooklyn, and Justin who became part of the Pain Train. It was a lot of fun.

But unfortunately, my asthma sucked on every single uphill. I sounded like a 2-pack-a-day smoker wheezing on all the uphills. I sucked on my inhaler 20 times (instead of the 2-4 times I normally would take it). I normally don't run with my inhaler, because usually my lungs behave while running but not today. Misery. And also, my plantar fasciatis was hurting on the road sections and any super duper rocky section. Uber fun.

But despite all the suckiness and the pain, I still had fun.

The field was the absolute biggest it's ever been - I almost passed out when picking up my number when I discovered they had over 500 people signed up and there would be two waves. WHAT?! But the waves really helped smooth things out and it was a little less crowded than last year, honestly - at the beginning in the tight spots anyway.

Early on, before we made the first turnoff on a steep uphill, an arrow at an earlier spot confused the hell out of me and I lost a few minutes trying to figure it out. I saw all the ribbons ahead, but why was an arrow pointing left if everything else indicated straight? I didn't rest until I got to the first aid station. And then after the first aid station, I had a particularly rugged awful climb down, from rock to rock being uber careful...and a bunch of people took a shortcut, saving them a minute or two (which I know because no one was within seeing distance when we began the climb). So a few spots could be better marked, but really, most of the course was exceptionally well marked.

The aid stations were very, very basic - electrolyte drink, water, coke, pretzels, chips, M&Ms. (No ginger ale or cookies, the horrors!) Oh but the volunteers were nice, especially a certain boyfriend of mine (I love you, Wayne!) who was at the Mile 20 aid station. Yay! He was in charge of telling people they missed the cut-off which sucked a lot - apparently, someone started crying and he felt awful telling her she couldn't go on.

The course is super technical. One of the most technical race courses I have ever been on. After, we were talking about how if this had been a 100miler, it would've had a much higher DNF rate b/c you are so tired, it's hard to not be clumsy and trip. I saw a lot of people turning around, walking back, limping, towards the aid stations from the opposite direction - people who had went out but tripped, hurt themselves. One guy seemed pretty despondent around mile 34 - "But I think this is the best decision." We agreed.

It was rather warm - 74. My one bottle, which normally was fine here, was a little rough and I found myself running out of water between aid stations.

I ran much of the race with Amy. We complained together, chatted, WTF on yet another hill/stream crossing/climbing over a tree in the middle of the trail. We laughed, talked about nothing, about mint juleps, that sort of thing. We had so much fun that it didn't feel as miserable as it easily could have been. It was actually fun, when I wasn't sucking down on Albuterol.

The course is longer, and according to everyone's GPS's, and more time between aid stations than promised. Apparently, Wayne said people were relying on their GPS's and ended up DNFing b/c you would be told "This aid station is at this mile" and your GPS would show you two miles more when you arrived....So it was a bit of a challenge in that way.

Drop bag fun...there's a brownie in here!

We started a pain train in the 30s. I led it, followed by Amy, Justin, and some others. It was just a follow the leader, I set the pace (I offered others to do it but everyone refused) and we complained abt the mud and water and stream crossings and rocks and hills and running and everything, and laughed and told jokes and chatted and at one point, we all went, "Choo chooo." A fun pain train.

Crackers, the key to running success!

I arrived at 40 feeling shot. My dream of sub 11 was clearly impossible and I felt depressed. Wayne was fully dressed in running gear with a "PACER" bib. Ummmm....you have been injured since December and haven't run more than a mile at a time and you want to run 10 miles with me, including the hardest up and down of the course? Sure, that sounds smart. I drank some coconut water, got yelled at by a volunteer for sitting in the middle of the course (What? It's an aid station? Whatever.) and then Wayne and I left, with Amy and her boyfriend shortly afterwards.

I felt like hell. I just was miserable. There were a ton of French Canadians we were running with, and Frankie from Queens. (We knew his name because his extremely cheerful and motivating pacer kept yelling, "C'mon, Frankie, you can do this!") Up down rock up down down down up up up up turn twist. 

I met lots of great people, and love the aid station with the crazy theme that is sponsored by Van Cortlandt Track Club. I was bonking majorly and forced down a gel. 

Timp pass. Inhale that albuertol. And again.

The uphill sucks. You climb forever, go across, then climb some more. And then you go down. And some of the down is comprised of these horrendous loose rocks that you just can't run on b/c you slip and slide and it's just terrible. Oh well. And then that other aid station and then you can run hard to the finish. Wooohooo.

Sadly I felt so miserable but I was having fun. It was a pain train, with me and Wayne and Amy and her boyfriend Rob.

I wanted to be done. I was miserable - I knew it would be over four hours slower than my last 50 miler - yes, the course was much, much harder but UGH.

And then - we were coming in. People were cheering. I took off, faster, and Wayne dropped, "I couldn't keep up." I got a medal which promptly became dirty from my filthy self, and Glenn gave me a waterbottle. Then I began cramping up and hugged Amy and sat down in the grass, shivering and cramping, waiting to cheer John Budge to his finish.

Fun, yes. Well-organized, yes. Crowded, a little. Painful, yes. But oh-so-fun!

Lake Waramug 50 Miler! A PR and oh-so-much-fun!

Before the Lake Waramug Race, I stretched, worried, taped my foot, rolled out the pain, tapered excessively and ran way shorter distances than planned.

"I don't even know if I can do the 50k," I said, fretting. I had signed up for the 50miler but decided to drop to the 50k...and wasn't even sure I could complete that. I was sad.

So I prepped myself. I told my friends I might not even make it past the 50k. I packed a bag with my kindle crammed full of books, my Spanish verb exercise books (Hey, if I couldn't run an ultra at least I finally might be able to understand the subjunctive? Maybe? Okay, probably not...), and a book about the horrific war in Bosnia by Janine diGiovanni. And some letters to writer and some Spanish exercises...and warm clothes...and hello Mary Harvey packed brownies, why the hell would I run if I could sit and read and eat brownies?

Tony kept telling me I should just do the 50 miler with him, but he knew about the pain I've been feeling - esp with pavement. I didn't want to mess myself up for the slew of races I have ahead - Bear Mtn 50 miler in two weeks, followed by Greenbelt 50k, followed by Brooklyn Half, and then a week off, then North Face DC 50 miler, then pacing at San Diego 100, then pacing at Great NY Running Expedition, then Finger Lakes 50, then Vermont 100, then Moosalamoo 36 Miler, then Burning Man 50k...then summer is over. So a lot of running! And I'd rather not do something stupid and mess my summer of fun up!

I was a bundle of nerves at the start. Actually, I was more like depressed. I chatted with Erin and Mary, who were bubbly and pantless (they were wearing skirts!), and I was freezing and refused to take off my pink zebra striped leggings. This day was going to suck if I dropped. Wayne had pitied me and told me if I dropped really early, he'd make the drive up to CT to fetch me. I had visions of crying the car ride home.

But it didn't happen like that.

Tony and I started off easily, chatting, with Tony complaining we were going too fast and me feeling like this lake went on FOR-E-VER! But it was really pretty - the course was asphalt, running on the side of the road with most of the cars slowing down and driving in the other lane. There were rolling hills, you know, slight up and downs, nothing too terrible. We walked the hills in the later laps, mainly to slow down our speed, give ourselves some time to recover and do something different, and omg, it felt so freaking good just to walk up a hill here and there.

The course also had incredible aid. So you do a 2.2 mile out (and then there's an aid station) and come back 2.2 miles. Then you do a bunch of loops and maybe an out-and-back depending upon your distance. But each loop is 7.6 miles - and each loop has the awesome main aid station, plus three others. Carl Hunt, I have a crush on you. The first aid station I usually didn't stop at, except once to grab pretzels and once to beg for ginger ale (which they didn't have). The second aid station - I think I want my wedding one day to be staged here. Hello! Grilled cheese! Pumpkin pie! What else do you need? Oh yeah ginger ale and some red or blue Gatorade. Pretzel slims! I was in heaven. Tony and I stopped talking to each other in order to cram as much in our mouths as possible. I love this race. And then it was the really cold and windy and sucky and hilly part of the race and then ANOTHER aid station. Mmmm pretzels and ginger ale and GO!

I started out feeling pretty unsure...what could I do? What should I do? Tony was pretty chipper and full of cheer...we chatted about life, races, friends, whatever else. Tony only made me stop to laugh hysterically like a hyena once. I laughed other times like a hyena but I only stopped once.

My foot began hurting, not a lot, but some. I really didn't want to quit, I didn't want to quit. It was around mile 9. I decided I'd try to at least do a 50k.

"C'mon Cherie, do the 50 miler, c'mon, c'mon."

"You know I want to...I just don't want to hurt myself more."

I ate vanilla gus as we ran, gawked at the pretty houses, laughed, drank water, suffered.

And then I missed the 50k turnaround.

"I'll stay with you the rest of the way," Tony promised.

I gritted my teeth. My foot wasn't hurting as much.

The second-to-last loop, Tony was calculating pace. "Cherie, you can def PR. As long as we keep up this pace--"

"Shut up, shut up, I don't know what will happen!"

The last lap -- "Cherie, I think I'm gonna PR. Oh!"

We could both PR? Insane!

We took a walk break. Even before we started walking, Tony was moaning about how amazing it felt. "This is better than sex," I told him. "Right now, I def want this instead of sex." It felt that good. Seriously.

We pushed it. I pushed it. Tony pushed it. We were hurting but --

oh
my
god
we
both
PR'd!

Tony smashed his Pineland Farms 50miler PR of 8:47 and I kicked my PR of 9:05 -- to 8:31!!!!!

We finished crossing the line together! I was third woman (1min10seconds behind the second place woman). We changed, scarfed some food, and I felt amazing. So high. I couldn't believe that I had PR'd when I thought I was incapable of doing 19 miles less...

My books remained unread that day, but they'll get read. The race - well, that was run, in the best possible way!

I won! J.W. Corbett 50 Miler Race Report

I'm still riding on the endorphins from yesterday! I was first woman, sixth overall, in yesterday's JW Corbett 50 Miler. It was tough, it was pretty, it was fun, I had a blast!

I am always looking for good races near Gram's so I have a double excuse to head down to Florida. Originally scheduled to be help in a park infested with alligators, I was rather glad when it got moved b/c the other park was entire under water. This park, only some of it.

It was four washing machine loops of 12.5 miles (My GPS read more than 12.5 miles, but what fun is an ultra if it's exactly measured correctly?). 

The first part (or last part, depending which loop you were on) was flat, 7 miles-ish, along the levee, completely exposed. It was very pretty, but when you're in pain, pretty only gets you so far. "Those flowers are lovely, but oh my god, my toenails are killing me!"  

Then you head into "Jurassic Park" where there were technical, single track trails, and TONS of swamps. I mean, running through water that was at least ankle-high and sometimes as much as mid-thigh. Yum. I tried not to think about snakes and alligators and when it got too lonely in there, I'd talk to scare away the beasts. Many parts of the swamp were impossible to run in because of floating logs and other debris. My friend Jessica who I ran the first loop with (and who had also paced me at Cajun Coyote 100 Miler) smashed her shin really hard in the swamp and ended up limping to an early finish. The last loop, this section was especially difficult because I was so tired I could barely lift my legs and kept smashing my sore toes and sore toenails into logs and other things. Ow. Also, because of running through so much sand (which was on the bottom of the swamps) and mud, I literally had to stop each loop, remove my socks, turn them inside out and dump the sand/mud combo out, remove my shoe insoles, scrape them as clean as I could get them, then scoop out any remnants out of my sneakers. This didn't always work as good and the sand/mud buildup would chill just below the pad of my feet and became very painful. Tears-in-my-eyes-painful. And yes, people, I was wearing gaiters. It was that bad.

Finally, the last section was again along the levee, on the other side, with a small bridge-crossing back to the start. And then you went back out the other way.

The aid stations had some of the friendliest, funniest volunteers I've met at any ultra. They insisted upon taking some of the most unflattering photos known to humankind, gave me cups of delicious gatorade, teased me, laughed. I told one of the volunteers I lost my toenail and he promised to keep an eye out for it. When I saw him a little later, he yelled at me across the levee, "I've been looking for that toenail, but I still can't find it!"

I started my race out at a decent clip, sub-9:30 miles, which doesn't sound too fast to a lot of my friends, but for an ultra, that's fairly good. Jessica and I chatted, laughed, told stories about our Burns, what happened in our lives. We suffered through the swamp for the first time together - I loved it, and used the opportunity to pass a lot of people. Some people can't seem to run in a swamp, for whatever reason. Hmmmm.  Anyway, maybe it's the fact that my first ultra had abt 4-5 miles of brook running (though that was heaps harder, but I had a blast in this section, until the last loop, when my toes and toenails started mutinying.  

After the first loop, Jessica and I separated, and I primarily ran alone the rest of the race. No worries, I had plenty going on in my head to amuse me.

Aid station stops were kept brief, water filled up, a cup of gatorade, maybe a handful of pretzels. I ate mainly gels - lots and lots of gels.

I felt better than I had and when I realized I was in first place, I pushed it. I haven't won races very often, but oh, how I wanted this. How I wanted to win. My mantra was, "The faster you run, the sooner the pain is done"  (adding that pain b/c OW, but also was "First place." It's weird, it's not like I got a prize or anything....but I still felt the need to get this. It wasn't like I was mean competitive, I was still talking and chilling and having fun. It just gave me a push. And people in the swamp were so nice, "You're in first place." I responded, "Yeah but I'm WET." "And I'm muddy." It was a lot of fun.

I had so much fun at the race - the people, the pretty trails, the palms, the water...and after, chilling, exchanging the ultra goss, talking with a guy who ran his first 50k (but had only ran 6 miles before that!), I knew that I'd be back.

50 Miles of Birthday Fun: Race Report of the North Face DC 50 Miler!

I set out to run my heart out, and I fully did that. Even if I didn't go as fast as I wanted, I ran fast, I ran with my heart, and I ran through the mud.


This was my way of celebrating my birthday.


Mary and Erin agreed to run their first 50 miler, and Iliana of course couldn't resist signing up too. The North Face Endurance Challenge 50 miler in DC would be fun!


The course was full of ups and downs, and stream crossings, and an absurd amount of mud. Unfortunately for me, it was also full of nine bathroom stops. 


I started out as fast as I could, running below 9:30 pace. It felt good. I felt great. I ran, smiling, felt alive. There was a bunch of mud, I plowed through it.


Ups, downs, along the river - "Is this the Potomac?" "Yes." So pretty! What - this hill, the mud, I'm slipping - I'm sliding, AUGH!


Then I got to the 15 mile ish mark, where I would then do 3 7 mile ish loops, and then run back the 15 ish miles. Wayne was there, and I requested a 5 hour energy shot to be purchased for mile 40. He was all hyper, for some reason. He also asked me, "Is it muddy?" I simply stared, not sure why he couldn't see the mud on my shoes, legs, skirt, shirt, face, arms, and hands. "Yes."


The 7 mile loop was nice. Not too much mud, and I smiled, really enjoying it. The second loop was fun, and I saw Tennessee, who was running her first 50k. I got a giant hug, which lifted my spirits. I felt good, strong.


Oh, but I neglected to mention my tummy troubles. I kept stopping...to go. I stopped a total of nine times during the race. UGH. Why??? I ate everything "right." Who knows why I became the Poop Queen. Oh well.


The third loop, Wayne decided to pace me. He turned his ankle twice. Then he limped back to the aid station after only four or five miles. 

The funniest thing about Wayne pacing me was when a woman with two dogs off leash (not sure why she had two dogs off leash in a national park with lots of hikers and runners?) couldn't control her dogs when they began chasing me. "Wayne, do something," I said, pushing ahead. I'm afraid of dogs, especially strange ones that could bite me. Wayne bent over and began barking like a dog, out of control. It was pretty hilarious. Later, he wondered if the ankle turning was karma for barking at the dogs, but I told him it couldn't be.


I ran on. Through the mud and the streams and the pit stops and my hamstring was sore and oh god, the pad of my food and I ran on.


And then I saw something that made me quite angry. I kept seeing this man doing what he could to avoid running through the mud (which was hard - there was mud EVERYWHERE!) and the stream crossings. (At one point, he crossed a stream barefoot, shoes in hand, then sat on the bank, dried off his feet with a towel he carried, and put his shoes back on!) He spent so much time avoiding the mud and wet - but then he'd get all annoyed and want to pass me and I kept having to pull aside to let him pass. Well, I looked up at one point, and we were all struggling and could not run b/c it was so muddy and slippery and we were struggling to stay upright - when he was on a parallel paved path. I was so angry, I called him out on it. "You're not on the course. That's not fair! You're cutting the course!" He sweetly smiled, "Have a great race."


What a complete jerk.

But I pushed on. I ran my heart out, as usual.


I finished, tears in my eyes. It was my birthday present to myself. Through the mud and nine pit stops, all by myself (not counting the 5 miles where Wayne was running ahead and having his own fun in the woods, which I don't really consider pacing), I did it. Not my fastest, or second fastest, but third fastest. Still, pretty respectable. So happy - I'm getting back to the runner I used to be, the runner with so much heart.


I rinsed off and waited for Mary and Erin. They came in, side by side, spacey but so happy, followed soon by Iliana. I was so proud of all of them, so happy for all of us.


It was a wonderful birthday present.

North Face DC 50 Miler!

I set out to run my heart out, and I fully did that. Even if I didn't go as fast as I wanted, I ran fast, I ran with my heart, and I ran through the mud.


This was my way of celebrating my birthday.


Mary and Erin agreed to run their first 50 miler, and Iliana of course couldn't resist signing up too. The North Face Endurance Challenge 50 miler in DC would be fun!


The course was full of ups and downs, and stream crossings, and an absurd amount of mud. Unfortunately for me, it was also full of nine bathroom stops. 


I started out as fast as I could, running below 9:30 pace. It felt good. I felt great. I ran, smiling, felt alive. There was a bunch of mud, I plowed through it.

A Race Report Not Easy to Write: Bear Mountain 50 Miler

I've done the Bear Mountain 50 Miler twice, so it should be cake. I know the course. I run here way too much. But that wasn't to be. Horrible personal problems that I won't go into prevented me from doing anything in the first 25 miles but moving forward, slowly. I was overwhelmed with sadness, and found my race ruined like never before. How could I run when -- how? I ran but I found my motivation slagging as my mind wandered into sad, dangerous territories.


But at mile 25, I ran into the amazing John Budge. I met John when he signed up to do the Burning Man Ultra, and we haven't really hung out tons. But here, we were able to hang out - for 25 miles. We talked about love, our first kisses, how he proposed to his wife, crazy times at Burning Man, what motivates us, that sort of thing. If it hadn't been for him, I probably would have gone crazy. I probably would still be sitting on a rock, bawling my eyes out, muddy knees to my chest, dirt-tear-streaked face seeing nothing but my own thoughts. But John - he saved me. I told John, "I need to stay out of my head. You are saving my race." I think he really enjoyed the times too. We both agreed we made each other's day. I pushed both of us, and when I was weak, he pushed us. We worked together, and it was really a beautiful example of teamwork - and friendship. In ultras, the barriers fall down and people become close so quickly. When I finished, I was so happy - because I struggled past something that could have really held me back. Yes, there were plenty of tears, plenty, a sleepless night, crying on rooftops - but first, there was a strong hug for John.


A friend remarked after I reported on my turnaround, "X0 Cherie. You're one tough chicita bonita. You inspire me for so many reasons, especially your ability to "smile" through a sh*tstorm and turn things around to be positive no matter what." I thank Deanna for that, though sometimes, I wish there wasn't a sh*tstorm for me to be positive through - can't I just be positive on a sunny day and persevere? Like this woman told me about her first 50 miler (with a very generous cut-off) -- "I just got in my car in the middle and cried for two hours. I was so cold. But it made me stronger." I thought through my tears, "But I don't want to suffer so it makes me stronger - I want to enjoy and yes, suffer a little, but why can't I get stronger without getting my ass kicked again and again? Can I have a good race for once?"


Even though the day began and ended with tears, the middle part was full of friendship, cookies, and Burning Man tales.


Thank you, John. And thank you to all the beautiful strangers who pushed me with their love and help and kind words. You are true beautiful ultrarunners and I love that you are in my sport.

Dances with Dirt Green Swamp 50 Miler - 3rd time around is 3x as hot!

                So I signed up for the Dances with Dirt – the  50k originally, then decided not to do the Santa Barbara 100 Miler, so switched to the 50 miler. Fifty milers are my favourite distance!

                It was cooler at the start, but we quickly warmed up. The high was 87, but it felt much hotter, especially with the sun, the constant exposed areas, and the incredibly high humidity.

                The race had the usual chill feel at the start of an ultra – joking, bantering, organizing, smiling, complimenting, chatting. I love ultras because you don’t get the super-hyped up stressed-out feeling that tends to permeate road races sometimes.

                We started at 5:30a.m., in complete pitch black darkness. Because I packed when I had food poisoning (Yes, I had food poisoning Sunday night onwards, so my week was a cycle of stomach issues and general weakness.), I forgot a lot of crucial items, including a water bottle with a  functioning top and a headlamp. Luckily, my dad had a headlamp at his place down here, which a volunteer duct taped smaller to fit on my head. I quickly learned it was a miserable option as a running headlamp – it was too heavy. Still, it lit the extremely dark path, which was filled with logs and roots and the usual. It was a 5 mile loop and with lots of tricky footing and extreme focus in following the trail. The course was well-marked with pink flags for fifty milers and reflective tape on the earlier sections in which we’d be running with headlamps. It took 48 minutes for the first section and when we got back to the start/finish/drop bag area, I left behind the heavy headlamp – and ran like hell for a guy running with light.

                “Hey, can I run next to you? My headlamp was really uncomfortable because it’s a borrowed one,” I asked a tall and friendly-looking guy.

                His response? Handing me a small light.

                Thus I stuck with Rob for the next few miles, until shortly after daylight when I hung back to pee. Later, he passed me – he had gotten lost at some point. I found the course exceptionally well-marked, but a few people still did get lost – which made me hyper alert.

                After I was alone, I began smelling campfire. No, make that fire. The course went through an area that had recently had a forest fire, and some of it was still smoldering. That gave a rather eerie mood to that area with small bits of smoke rising from the embers. My stomach also began hurting a little at this point, and I realized doing an ultra so soon after food poisoning was probably not a good idea. Oh well. Too late. I swallowed hard and hoped I could finish.

                The course is fairly flat (It’s Florida!) with some short ups and downs, nothing too crazy, with lots of running through fields and through little weird forest paths and past where armadillos live (though I didn’t see any). I ended up with lots of dirt inside my shoes, and my legs were pretty filthy upon finishing. The exposed sections felt especially brutal and it’s no wonder I had a sunburn after. The volunteers were super friendly, joking with me, being very helpful. The aid stations didn’t feature the most amazing food, but were fully stocked with all the basics, which was great.

                My back began aching, possibly from putting a much bigger than normal water bottle in my waistpack. Also, my hamstrings began cramping up, something that never happens, which was probably due to the heat. I was taking an endurolyte every hour, drinking a cup of Gatorade at every aid station table, and managing down just a few saletines every aid station. I also ate two and a half packs of Power Gel Blasts/Honey Stingers, but only one gu. My stomach was still destroyed from food poisoning. My whole body hurt – back, hamstrings, feet, oh my god, my toenails, all the dirt in my shoes was definitely causing blisters.

                And the heat. It was so hot. At one point, after peeing, everything felt all hot and horrible and I knew I was on the verge of being in trouble. So I squirted water in my face, poured it on my head, and walked. I was too hot. I needed to cool down. I spent time at aid stations putting ice in my bottles, drinking more Gatorade, and trying to remain mindful of my body and how it felt.

                The race went on. I wanted to cry, I was in so many pain. Everywhere. It was hot. Blindingly sunny. Humid. Every step ached. I laughed when I got near the water crossing, and my legs were so tired, I almost fell in.

                The course consists of a 5 mile loop, a 20 mile loop, repeat the 20 mile loop, and cruelly, do that 5 mile loop again. I say cruelly because when I was rehydrating and getting ready to finish my last 5 miles, they were announcing the winners of the 50miler. Grrrrr. I was still running.

                That five hour energy shot may have worked, or maybe it was my determination, or maybe it was that this part was shady – but I did great. I didn’t run as fast as my first loop obviously, but I kept up a steady pace, was laughing. Where the hell was the finish? This wasn’t five miles, it was fifteen. Oh my god. Faster. Push it. Yes.

                And the finish line. As I ran past the aid station that had helped me so many times so kindly, they erupted into cheers. I was so happy, I finished with my hands in the air.

                And then – the news.

                First in my age group, fourth woman overall. I took home a snazzy mug and a neat little clip light.

                And you know what?

                I bet I’ll be back next year – for more dirt, fun, and sun!

   Side Observation:
             I know why people run with headphones. Not only did I have Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie in my head, but I also had Wilson Phillip’s Hold On stuck in my head. I couldn’t get them out of my head, though when I ran through tricky-to-run-through Lord of the Rings-like gnome land, I sang Total Eclipse of the Heart out loud, much to the amusement of some spectators waiting to watch me do the water crossing (which luckily, was much shallower this year and didn’t require getting wet unless you were clumsy).

Dances with Dirt 50 miler...Again!

It's my third year in a row running the Dances with Dirt Green Swamp 50 Miler down in Florida, and while I wouldn't say it's the most spectacular race, I do like it. The folks are nice that organize it, it's small and not too crazy, the course isn't too insane, it's a great training run for longer ultras, plus, it's close to Gram.


I'm not in my best shape ever - I know this. A trip to Peru filled with tummy troubles and high altitude asthma problems, followed by more asthma problems, led me to finally regain my strength - only to be slammed with a case of food poisoning on Sunday. (Oh, Whole Foods salad bar, how could you fail me?) earlier this week - leading my body to become completely sick. Today is the first day since Sunday that I feel hungry - I just have felt too ill and too weak to want to eat.


But beach running today and yesterday have filled me with love and energy for the long run - though the runs were short, they were short in recovery from illness, and in preparation for Saturday's race.


Yes, it involved a flight, a long drive (4 hours each way from Gram's), plus hotel's, an annoying drive, did I mention a long drive? But it's fun. It'll be a beautiful day running my favourite distance - and what better way to spend a day than running?


Well, yes, sleeping in late with one's love and brunch and all that is also a wonderful way to spend a day...and yes, the beach...but this comes in just with those!

Is 100 "It"? (Or, Why Do I Run 100 Milers?)

For years, marathons were IT for me. I trained and trained and trained, and if I bombed, I cried and was depressed for days, or if I did good, I still was depressed that I didn't do quite as good as I hoped (though my first Boston Qualifying Marathon was an exception).


Then, sub in 50 milers for marathons....


Then, 100s...


And I can't seem to get away from 100 milers, though I find them so brutal, so tough, so rough, so horrendous, so painful, so soul-destroying, so demoralizing...


...yet so uplifting, for moments here and there, and most especially, when you're done.


But really, I love 50 milers best.


Marathons sucked so much when they sucked. They can be amazing, but when they hurt, it's not fun. And it's not pretty and sometimes you can't get beyond the pain. And fast, yes, you have to run fast. Ow.


But 50 milers...they're just the perfect distance. You're over in a day. You start running early, and you finish early enough to get dinner with your loved ones and shock/appall/impress them with your eating capabilities. Maybe you'll even head out for a drink or two (because there will, of course, be an amazing party that night) and then you'll plead exhaustion, crash for a few hours, or more, be stiff the next day, but feel pretty good.  You can run slower than a marathon, eat cookies while you run, see beautiful trails, bond with rad ultrarunners. Even if it sucks, it's only 50 miles.


But that last sentence - you can't explain that, you can't really feel that, until after you run 100 miles. And then it seems easy. You need to run 100miles to feel that. To appreciate it.


100 miles...why? Why do I keep going back? Why? 

There's that point where it's dark (It seems like the middle of the night, but it might only be 8 or 9pm. You've been up for hours, you're tired, it is the middle of the night to you.):


And everything starts hurting. Your feet are swollen, you took off your compression leg sleeves miles ago because your calves were so swollen that your sleeves felt unbearable. You have a million blisters (or maybe just one). You are nauseas, you're hungry, you have go to the bathroom, right now, right now, can we please just stop, oh pacer, just let me stop for one minute, you feel like you're going to die, you want to die, you hate this, you hate everything, why did you sign up, you paid how much to run this far, you swear you're never running a 100miler again, oh, this sucks, your shins hurt so bad, this hurts so bad, you want to be in bed, it is horrible....


Or maybe that's just me? Yeah, I didn't think so.


But there's this glimmer. 100 milers are where - as my pacer Kathy told me at Rio del Lago - you learn to be tough, you prove just how tough you are. It's where you discover something deep inside yourself. I don't find that in any other race. It's where you learn to push past pain. It's where you learn to push past reasonability.


I do love running 50 milers best - they are my favourite race - but I still keep signing up for 100s. I do them as my goal races, my key races. 50 milers are often just training runs, build-ups. But I love them best. Should I focus on them instead? Should I enjoy my runs more?


Sometimes, I want to spare myself the agony and just sign up for a 50miler. Like, maybe I should do that for the 50 mile at the Santa Barbara Endurance Race instead of the 100. But I get this feeling that I'm being wimpy - I know the 100 is what will push me, what's harder.


It's not wimpy. It's a different option. I'll have to run it differently...


I think as I'm writing this, I realize WHY I run 100milers. They are the best way to challenge myself. With my writing, I challenge my creativity, my thought process, my view of life. But when I run 100 miles, I challenge my body, push it past pain.

You know what? When it's all over, and your body is aching and you're thirsty and exhausted and hungry and sore and in pain and everything hurts - YOU DID IT. You ran 100 miles and that is something so hardcore that so few people can say. You got to be out there in nature, running through beautiful woods, on lovely trails, bonding with amazing people (and of course, nature), bonding with yourself, thinking deep, thinking clear, thinking pure.


And so, I love 50 milers best.


But I will continue running 100 milers to challenge my soul.

Vermont 50 Miler: Fun, Friends, Laughs, and Fun

                Some races are about PRs. Some are about proving how tough you are. Some are about finding yourself, or taking yourself to the next level. Some are about just being a training run.

                And some races are just about having fun.

                The Vermont 50 Miler this year was about having fun. It was a blast. Besides the Burning Man 50k, it was the most fun I’ve had in a while at a race. There was mud, there were good friends, there was mud, there was homemade cookies at mile 25, there was mud, there were hilarious stories, there was mud, there were dirty stories and songs, there was mud, there was sweat, there was mud, there were hills, mostly uphill, there was mud.

                And we all had fun.

                Iliana is good at convincing. She convinced me to sign up for the Vermont 50, which I love because I love Vermont. Vermont 100 is still my favourite race ever, and my first ultra, Jay Challenge was in Vermont. So I have a special spot in my heart for Vermont. So despite the fact that I ran Rio del Lago 100 Miler just two weeks prior, and ten days prior to that, ran the Burning Man 50k, and despite the fact that my legs are t…i…r…e…d, I signed up. Why? Because I’m an ultrarunner and we’re not always smart with our racing plans.

                Iliana procrastinated signing up and the race ended up filling up. But I was still signed up. She decided she’d go up and pace. Then I found out despite having signed up, Tony wasn’t planning on running it – he felt really undertrained. I told him I was running slow. Hmmm…that sounded fun. So he joined me in the journey. “Think training run,” was my mode.

                The fun started with the drive up – Iliana was hilarious, Tony was ridiculous, and I almost peed twice while laughing. Almost. Iliana and Tony split a 16 piece Popeye chicken and we couldn’t stop laughing over it. Sixteen pieces? And then we also stopped at the Vermont Country Deli to get mac and cheese (Tony), pulled pork and carrot ginger soup (Iliana), pesto pasta (me). And then there were conversations about OKCupid, beets and toilets, the Bear Mountain witch/hiker, Iliana stopping so I could pee every two minutes, Tony complaining…it was hilarious.

                At the race start, we ran into Emmy and Chris. Oooh fun! We started together, and for the most part, stuck together. And the results – an absolute blast!

                The course was muddy, but that seems to be nothing unusual from our experiences. Lots of spots where your shoes get completely covered, spots with big mud pits, but no one lost shoes. Because it’s Vermont, the entire course is up and down. Flats? Um…maybe a teeny bit? And lots of beautiful summits and trees and views and meadows and barns and horses and pretty leaves and all that good stuff. Yeah, you’ll love it.

                We stuck together from the start, exchanging stories, laughing, complaining, avoiding or splashing in mud. Some of the aid stations seemed a little chaotic and disorganized and unhelpful, but for the most part, they were great. I carried one handheld, and just one time did I run out of water before the aid station. It was super humid so I opted to carry my water bottle instead of wearing a waist belt that would’ve chafed; as it was, the tag or the liner in my running skirt caused chafing.

                It was humid. So humid that when a runner passed me early on, sweat splashed off him onto me. Perspiration dripped off our faces. It was pretty gross. My armpit got chafed, so I took off my shirt. It was one of those days.

                Racewise, it was a good race. I had a good appetite, and ate gels, Honey Stinger chewy things, Honey Stinger waffle things, Odwalla Bars. Delicious.

                Tony and I pulled ahead a bit, running and laughing. And suddenly Chris wasn’t there. Emmy told us he wiped out in the mudpit and took a bit to recover. But in the end, he was feeling great. He was able to join in for valuable conversations, like Asshole Flavored Heed (how to make it). Emmy’s legs felt dead from running a marathon a week prior - hardcore!  Tony had a bad headache. I had blisters. But our struggles were suppressed by our friendship, our laughter, our jokes, our good spirits. We really motivated each other to the finish.

                This race was not about a goal time. It was about a good training run, a fun run. Tony and Iliana shared a beer at mile 47. Iliana, Emmy and I peed right next to each other, right at the side of the trail (Okay, on the trail.), earning us the nickname “Reverse Moon Girls.”  Tony made up songs and talked more than we wanted about certain topics. (Okay, I lied, we loved it because he was so funny.) We experimented with food to eat. We looked at beautiful vistas. We cursed our hills. We pushed each other and ourselves…and had so much fun. We got that ultimate high, especially when we got to those beautiful downhill sections – and we just flew…until the next uphill. Until the next mudpit. Until someone tripped.

                But even if you tripped, you weren’t down because we were all there to keep each other having the ultimate runners’ high.

               

Finish happiness: Me, Tony, Emmy, Chris