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.

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!

Run Long. Run Far. Get Lost. Have Fun.

I love runs without pressure. Without the need for anything to be accomplished other than have fun. 

Saturday's three hour was a lot of fun. I had some pain at times and had a fairly decent page, but nothing too crazy. Yes, I pushed hard at the end, but mostly, I figured I'd do whatever and life would be good. And best of all, I had a friend who believed in me and pushed me to win.

Yesterday, I headed up to Bear Mountain with Iliana, Georgia, JT, Beth, and Kristen. We had a little too much fun running, getting lost, looking at maps, hiking, eating pretzels, getting lost, laughing, getting lost...it was a good time. We planned on sticking together, having time on our feet, and having fun.

Sometimes, having fun is the most important thing.

Really, always it is.

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.

Run Long, Run Strong, Run Happy

A shorter run on Saturday (2hrs40min), followed by an all-day Sunday run with Iliana at Stirling Forest and Bear Mountain State Park (one of my favourite places to run - it will kick your ass, but it's SO pretty!). Whatever I pulled in my butt when trying to outrace gnats last weekend is still hurting...so I had to take it easy on the uphills, and Iliana's chafing led to great grief and pain for her.

creepiness in bear mtn park

But you know what? With the sweat dripping down our faces, stink of our long-run bodies, gu filling our tummies, we had a blast. We met a guy doing the entire AT, another hiker who I gave gels and bars to, we were on such beautiful trails, catching up with our friendship, living, laughing, life.

My Favourite Distance: Bear Mountain 50 Miler Race Report

Ah, the Bear Mountain 50 Miler.

First off – I had fun. A lot of fun. In fact, this was one of the most fun races I’ve had. (Most fun, of course, was the Burning Man Ultramarathon!)

Second – I did PR, but not by as much as I wanted. Still, a course PR is a course PR! (And this includes getting lost twice, helped two fallen runners...)

Bear Mountain. It’s rough. It’s tough. It’s technical. (For those who may not know – technical generally refers to trails w/ lots of rocks, roots, streams, and other trippable items.) It’s hilly.

It’s also gorgeous. The trees were in bloom – white and pink flowers of different kinds. SO much green. And water – a lot of creek crossings, and forget trying to keep your feet dry. And climbs that give you amazing views – breathtaking. And those downhills...just amazing.

The weather was perfect. It was chilly at the start, and I began in a long-sleeved t-shirt, running skirt, and of course, my gaiters. A lot of others not wearing gaiters stopped to empty their shoes out, so I'm really glad I wore them. Plus, they were pink, as was my whole outfit, and I try to be colour-coordinated when I run. Always pink.

Within a few miles, I was sweating and left my long-sleeved t-shirt and headlamp (which I forgot, thanks, Scott, for lending) at my drop bag at Anthony Wayne Aid Station. And kept pushing.

The course was mostly very well-marked. Between the second and third aid stations, the ribbons were sparsely placed (and thus, I got lost, with four guys from the U.S. Coast Guard on my heels...) - apparently, there was some course marker vandalism the day before, though the course was mostly well-marked. I especially liked towards the end, when Nelson wrote little messages on the arrows for me, "This way, Cherie!" "Go Cherie!" Nelson marked the course

Early on, Johnny Rodriguez caught up to me. We have a running joke (haha, I just realized the pun after, not intended!) about how he's my ultra fiancee (I can't remember how this started exactly - he is actually married so it's more of a jokey thing) and we set our "wedding" - Mile 75 of the H.U.R.T. 100. And then we'll get divorced at the finish line. We ran together, talking a lot, laughing, swapping stories.

People sometimes seem surprised when I tell them that I talk during ultras. It's not a super fast sprint, so we have plenty of time to talk about races, our crazy families, our love life, our dreams, that sort of thing. It's funny but on the trails I sometimes feel very comfortable letting all my emotions spill out. I guess it's because on the trails, I'm the rawer, purer version of Cherie.

Johnny and I chatted a lot, helping runners in trouble - giving gu, electrolyte pills, checking in with people who were struggling. A lot of those on the trails were newbies (The North Face markets the race well, but those who race don't always train well.), so we offered whatever advice we could. He fell behind after we checked in with another struggling runner and I pushed on.

I ran with a guy in just Vibrams and shorts for a while, from Cobble Hill. We chatted about running, about Vibrams, our training. I told him about ultras I ran. He freaked when I apparently almost stepped on a snake (which I'm glad I didn't see or step on).

I kept on. 

At Mile 27ish, I was super excited to see Iliana who was yelling at me about electrolytes, gu, getting me to eat/drink/do everything. I hugged her and was so happy to see her. Having a friend out there is always amazing. Speed burst! I left her, noshing on the organic vanilla animal crackers as I sped down a hill.

I began talking to a guy who remembered me from Umstead, and a super nice woman...who very shortly after, tripped and completely face-planted. Her adrenalin didn't let her realize she was so hurt, and both Dave and I were worried. Two other runners came along, and stopped, offering help. Three more runners came, one of whom was a paramedic from Montreal, and she said that Sue shouldn't finish. "She needs...I don't know the word in English." Stitches. Yes. On her forehead, nose, and perhaps lip/chin. She chipped a tooth. Her face was covered in blood. She was still smiling.

(In a marathon, would this happen? Seven people stop to help someone they don't know very well? Probably not. And this is why I love ultras.)

We all took off. The French Canadians and I ran together, chatting a little. They encouraged me to do the Ultimate XC, which I want to do but think it's going to be too crazy with my racing/work traveling schedule. They got a little ahead of me...and then Rachel (the paramedic) tripped. I stopped with her, checking in and she was hurting. Bad. She did end up finishing, though, with bruises and cuts all over.

And I ran alone. It was fine: the words were dark and deep, yes, Robert Frost, but beautiful. Pretty flowers. Lots of green. Creek crossings occasionally. Hills. Rocks. Lots of rocks. And I sang: alone in the forest, I opened my mouth and sang. And felt great.

I heard a hissing in the grass - a snake, probably - and I screamed like hell and let the adrenalin carry me fast, faster, fastest!

Mile 27-40ish were my favourite miles - lots of runnable portions, great fun. I felt so alive, so happy.

My armpits started chafing (ugh, need to put body glide AND deodorant in my armpits, apparently), so I took off my shirt and ran in my black sports bra, which messed up my pink colour theme. Argh!

At Mile 40, I met up with friend, teammate, Mary, who offered to pace me. She was great. She was wearing extremely bright colours, full of tons of energy. We got in all sorts of discussions, about a lot of things I can't post on my blog in case my mom decides to read this. She also pushed me, encouraged me to eat, and ran back to get my water bottle (going up two hills!) when I forgot it at the final aid station.

Around Mile 45 or 46, you hit Timp Pass. This sucks, but doesn't suck as much as it did last time. I was tired. My legs were heavy. I tried to move but it wasn't working. Still, I passed some people. I think one person passed me the last ten miles; we passed people. I was feeling strong.

And we got closer. The last ten miles are quite runnable, with just a few hills to torture you. My legs felt like jelly. "Mary, I feel like I'm sprinting," I joked, and that's what it felt like. She was super encouraging.

And I ran in. Nelson handed me a purple flower right before I crossed the finish line, and it felt so victorious!

I didn't PR as much as I wanted, but I did. And I had a lot of fun. The weather was perfect (well, a little hot, but I'll try to not complain!) It was beautiful. It only rained for a few minutes. I'm getting better at technical running. I hung out with good friends. It was an awesome race...

...and yeah, I'll be back next year!

Songs I Sang During the Bear Mountain 50 Miler

Perhaps I'm not a normal person...I sing at the top of my lungs when alone in the woods. Or sometimes on the NYC streets. I had such a blast meeting rad people at the Bear Mountain 50 Miler on Saturday. But when I was alone, here are a few of the songs that came out.

KRS-ONE - How Bad Do You Want It?

Matt and Kim - Lessons Learned


Regina Spektor - Fidelity

Don Omar - Danza Kudero


Kesha - We R Who We R


Hot Chip - I Feel Better

(my favourite video! watch it and laugh...)


Yes, I know my taste in music ranges widely, but I found great comfort and fun, blasting down the trails at Bear Mountain, singing these songs. I had so much fun, it was so tough and challenging - yes, I'll be back next year.

Bear Mountain's Ready to Eat Me...But I Bite Back!!!

For some masochistic reason, I signed up to run the Bear Mountain 50 Miler. Again. I recently vaguely remembered on the verge of tears, slipping across a giant boulder, wanting to crawl, praying not to fall... The woman next to me swore, "If I don't fall, I'm going to write Saloman a thank you letter." Word to Saucony for not letting me fall, more than I ordinarily do.

The trails: technical, hilly, steep, so steep you're forced to climb instead of run up, stumble down instead of run down. Rocks. Mud. Water. Steepness. 

But so beautiful when you get to the top. And there are a couple of spots where you can just absolutely run fast, let go, run free...it's beautiful there! 

The weather will be good...hopefully no rain. When I ran two years ago, the heaps of rain we got in the weeks before (and night before) made the course more like a run-swim-run than an ultramarathon.


I'm going to be in all pink. There will be sunblock and gels and fantastically, Mary, one of my teammates in NBR, offered to pace me the last 10 miles! She's never run an ultra before, or at Bear Mountain, so she should have fun. The last ten miles include the brutal "Hill from Hell" as I call it, but she'll be fresh and full of energy, while my feet will resemble something shoved into a blender and I may only be able to use one-syllable words. But isn't that the beauty of the end of an ultra?

Bear Mountain Weekend

On the ride back to the city after running yesterday, I said to Wayne, "Sometimes being an ultrarunner is a big time suck. Like my weekend, gone. All I did was run at Bear Mountain." (Not entirely true; went to Wayne's party and celebrated his birthday w/ him and drinks with Gwendolyn and a little writing and a bunch of baking.)

He responded so beautifully, "That sounds like a great weekend. Running's a great way to spend your time."

And it was. It was a beautiful time running some technical trails that try my running, my body, and of course my soul.

Saturday was great. Al and I took some of the most difficult trails (I begged for the hardest climbs to prep me for the North Face Bear Mtn 50 Miler in just three weeks), including the dreaded Stairway to Heaven. Andrea stuck with Martin on some slightly different trails, and all of us were on almost no sleep. It was great. It was chilly (high 30s/low 40s), and got rather rainy and windy towards the end and we all got chilled. But still, you'd look around at such gorgeous trails with lovely views and almost no one in sight - and feel lucky to be training in such a great place.

Sunday wasn't as long of a run - just around 4 hours. We hit up some slightly easier trails, but enjoyed awesome views, a couple climbs, a run around a lake, and LOTS and LOTS of puddles to run through. (Many of the paths and stream trickles turned into brooks, which was so much fun to run through.)

Because Seven Hour Runs, Naps, and Lots of Eating are Completely Normal to Me

As I think about what I need for my 8-hour run at Bear Mountain tomorrow (lots of gus, coconut water, pretzels, power gel blasts, sports jelly beans, sunblock, etc.), and think about what a fun weekend I'll have on the trails, this video is so appropriate when talking to people about what I'm doing this weekend.

 

Training Run at Bear Mountain!

My girls and I went for a great 4.5 hour run at Bear Mountain. There were stomach aches, hills, great views, more hills, tripping, peeing behind bushes, mud, freaking out about running out of water, talking about the deliciousness of chocolate Accelegels (that was all me, on the chocolate Accelegels...like pudding, I tell you!), talking about boys, and stupid men, and bad dates, and good dates, and what we did last night...Andrea and I were collectively on less than 2.5 hours sleep, but we substituted some caffeine for sleep, and all that dancing I did the night before - I'm pretty sure it's what propelled me up those hills.

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North Face Challenge Bear Mountain 50 Miler

I was very hesitant about signing up for this race not only because the terrain is SO technical (and technical running is NOT one of my strong suits), but also because last year the cutoffs were SO tight that the majority of people who started did not finish. I did not want to have a DNF after my name, but decided the pursuit of running happiness ranked higher than the potential DNF. I signed up. I really do love running; this is what sustains me, more than most people. You know how when you go to your parents' house you go straight to the fridge, pour yourself a glass of milk and can eat cookies and talk with your parents and feel so at home? That's how I feel when I'm running. More than anything else, it's ultimately, 100% me. It's my authentic self.

Starting at 5am in rain, I quickly remembered that running with my headlamp is annoying. (I was glad when it started to get light, and removed my headlamp.) The start was difficult, with some rocks, water, splashing, downhills, more rocks, rain, and still, the feeling of excitement ran through my body.

The rain stopped after about an hour or so; I drank water in between aid stations, would fill up on oranges at the aid stations, but mainly ate my own foods, which I carried and/or left in the drop bags: strawberry banana gu, pretzels, fun-sized snickers bars, and animal crackers.

I'm not the strongest technical runner, so whenever we reached a semi-flat part or less rocky part, I pounded out those miles. People were impressed (but probably not impressed with how wussy I was on the downhills). The earlier miles I ran with a bunch of people, but was very careful on the slippery boulders I ran across. I lost them then, but passed them on some flats. It's how it goes.

One of the things I love about ultrarunning is how so much can happen in one race: I met so many people (including someone who had NEVER run on a trail before in his life!) yet also spent a good part of the race by myself, admiring nature, doing some thinking. On the parts where I was able to go fast, I got to reach that state of euphoria that only running can give me. Ah, endorphins...

Around mile 18, I ran into a guy who said he was hurting. He drank some of my water, and I ended up almost not getting my water bottle back. At the mile 20 aid station, I regrouped with Nelson, saw Matt (amazing cheerleader of the day! Go Matt!), and headed out. Shortly after this, I lost Nelson and everyone else and was running alone.

I was ecstatic to make all of the cut-off points, at the mile 34.5 cutoff, I made it with 31 minutes to spare, making up time. The volunteers were so amazing, treating me like a muddy princess.

The trails...they were up, and down, and very, very rocky. We have been having heaps of rain all week, so the paths were incredibly muddy...some of the trails were SO wet, it would appear I was running in streams, or even lakes. "We need flippers for this," one trail newbie grumbled to me. It was quite mucky and I tried not to think of snakes. Luckily, I only saw one snake, and it was a garter snake. The terrain being so wet and crazy, and me being a less confident and especially less experienced trail runner, I lost time on some of these parts.

Around mile 30, my right shin really started hurting me. I had problems with shin splints two months ago or so, and while I thought they healed totally, the pain was excruciating. It was so painful the thought of dropping out crossed my mind for one second -- "In the long run, for the health of my leg, it would probably be better" -- but then I squashed that thought. "I am not causing permanent damage, I will finish. I will not DNF." Whenever the pain got bad (which was, unfortunately, quite often, especially when I was walking or starting to run again), I thought of my grandmother -- "She has cancer, had surgery, is starting radiation -- her pain is worse than this. This is for grandma." So I continued.

The volunteers were great at all of the aid stations, grabbing my water bottles, constantly asking if I needed anything. The food selection wasn't the greatest, but I enjoyed the oranges and the occasional salty potato.

I had a lot of quiet time, wit nature, to just observe and feel free. It was a struggle, but mostly, it was pure bliss. The time between aid stations seemed enormous ("This must be way more than what they said!") but the day flew by and felt much quicker than the 12:30 it took me.

There was a horrible hill around mile 46 ("There's a bit of a hill," the volunteer at the aid station prior told me unhelpfully; it was THE WORSE hill on the whole course, and seemed to go on forever), but between the last aid station and the finish, it was mostly runnable. I flew (except for where I hit the lake that took over the trail, there I ran sloppily, hoping there were no snakes).

I came in to the finish, arms raised in the air, ecstatically happy to have completed. The course was tough, the day tested me, but ultimately, I persevered.