Pajama Run 2017

The Pajama Romp is a tradition for me: run Vermont 100 a week prior, destroy my body, and then run this 6 hour timed race a week later. The course is just over a mile (I think something like 1.27 miles) loop around Astoria Park. There are two hills, nothing crazy, but an opportunity for a walk break at the end. The race is scheduled 5pm-11pm, not my best time for running, but an interesting time for people watching.

I was not feeling that great, and it probably didn't help matters much that I did a tough core yoga class at 730am, and then Deep House Yoga at noon. Oh, and I rode my bike about 18 miles earlier in the day.

My plan was simple: run the first hour hard, and then see what I felt like. The first hour was hard and I ran quite well. I ran with Elliot, and then, he took off after an hour. I felt better at a slower pace.

But then I felt crappy. My plan was to try to catch up to a friend that I had lapped earlier and then walk and run with them....that never happened.

The last hour or so, Alicia caught up to me. She is a tough runner, and we had some nice chats.

The race was ridiculously hot with some random periods of rain. And then, the last few minutes, it began to rain harder.

After we heard the whistle, we headed back to tell our lap splits. I grabbed my stuff to change in the bathroom, and then found Wayne. It was pouring now. This sucked.

I asked Bomina to pick up my trophy and then hopped into the car to go home to take a hot shower and sleep.

TGNY 100k 2017

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quick Race Report: Sybil Luddington 50k!

I can't believe I have never run the Sybil Luddington 50k. It's runnable yet with some good hills (great opportunity for a nice break), scenic road route, most roads didn't have too many cars, the aid stations aren't overwhelming but have the necessities (water, gatorade, gingersnaps, pretzels, once for Esther, a beer!).

The story is, a teenage girl rode her horse to warn the Americans the British were coming....rode it 50k around a lake. "Paul Revere got more attention," a runner told me, "just because he was a man." No doubt.

This course was great training for Vermont 100. The hills were frequent, it was only 50k (so kickstart me back into ultra training) so that was good for me. 

I ran the entire race with Esther. We ran at a pretty chill place (walking when we wanted, though at times it felt tough), but I still was aware that I have a bit more work to do on getting into shape.

The weather was hotter than expected, and my stomach got sloshy super early so I couldn't drink as much water as I wanted. I backed off gels too and ended up not eating as much. While this is a great weight loss strategy in the non-running world, this meant I had less energy and couldn't run quite as good.

We finished under 6 hours, so we were pretty happy. I can't even recall what time, but oh well. After, a long wait for a friend to finish, a long drive, and then, some wonderful Mexican food with the one I love. It was a great day!

Conference House 6 Hour Race Report: Timed Races in the Freezing Cold Are Actually Fun

The Conference House 6 Hour Race was 32 miles of cold, sunshine, and friendship.  

I usually run a BUS race but whenever I can, but this time, I had my favorite yoga class that I teach: my Sunday Flow & Restore at Awakening. I usually include readings, meditation, sometimes pranayama - we open with short meditation, warmup, flow, and then totally melt into restorative poses. And I'll skip the class on occasion, but really didn't want to on this particular week. So I found this random 6 hour and signed up, despite having almost zero info.

I convinced my friend Jill to drive down from Rhode Island and run with me. She was struggling with a return/nonreturn to ultrarunning after a break (and ultimately, decided to take another break). I was worried about my tendon flaring up, and my training has been pretty minimal because of it.

NYC has been pretty mild this autumn. I've been biking everywhere and feeling pretty good about it. Of course, the weather plummets for the start of the race....

I got the start and realized, you idiot, the race is right on the water....which means crazy wind. Jill lent me a stinky windbreaker, which I was grateful for. 

The course was a two-mile loop, primarily easy trails.  The terrain was pretty easy - trails, but nothing technical, one baby hill. There were two port-a-potties next to the course, and we could easily leave drop bags. There were some pretty basic aid stations - they had M&Ms and kisses and pretzels (pretzels, that's all I really ever need) and I think clementines too. But I mainly had eyes for pretzels. They only had water in small bottles, which meant filling up your bottle was rather time-consuming (especially as it wasn't always readily available).

Nearly every time we ran through, the RD and timers would cheer us on. It was a really great feeling. One of the runners had the most amazing wife - she was out there, cheering us on, the entire time, with the kindest of words and a huge smile. The volunteers were great, and I felt like I was running in a small race of neighbors and friends.

The race started and I took off at a decent pace, not pushing too much, but not going too slow. I ended up chatting with this random guy, and we ended up spending the first 10 miles together. The pace was in the 8 minute range the entire time, and I felt good.

But I had decided I was going to run this one slow, for various reasons. I told Jill I'd run with her, and she tried to dissuade me. "I'm too slow. You won't want to run that slow." But I figured I'd run until I caught up with her (lapped) and then finish with her.

After 10 good miles, I passed her. I used the bathroom and then waited at the bottom of the little hill for her to reach me - and then it was like 22 miles of easy fun. 

Ultrarunning is more like hanging out with your friends sometimes than racing. Like, Jill and I could go out and drink wine and talk - but it was also pretty much the same as when we were running (except we complained about Jill's period and my stomach or whatever). Oh, and it was freezing, and I doubt I'd drink wine if I was freezing. Aren't you supposed to drink whiskey in the cold???

We finished. There were no partial loops, and we finished without enough time to go out and do another loop. That was fine. I got my plaque, I got my 50k coin (32 miles), and I got some pizza.

Jill and I headed back, and I questioned my sanity as to why I had avoided heat for the past six hours. But I felt so good - so amazing in that "this is why I love doing it" way.

Hinson Lake 24 Hour 2016 Race Report: Listen to Your Body

Hinson Lake 24 Hour is a race I kind of always have to do. My first time there was a blast - not only did I win it, but I made a ton of new friends. Everyone cheers each other on; there are silly signs around the 1.56 mile loop ("Mount Hinson" at the small hill; "200 miles to South of the Border;" "Woohoa, we're halfway there" amongst others); the aid station food is pretty fantastic; the volunteers are friendly; and the race is super cheap. Plus, it's 2 hours from my sister's place, and I always like to have another reason to visit her and my adorable niece and nephew. Oh, and her husband too. Hi Brian. 

A few days before my race, my old tendon injury flared up a bit. I took off a day, and was glad the race was on softer trails.

My nutrition was good, my sleep was okay, and I was feel pretty excited to run for 24 hours.

Before the race start, several different people, including the RD, came up to tell me I had a win in the bag. I felt all the pressure on me suddenly, and it overwhelmed me. "I'm just going to have fun."

A lot of people out there, kept asking, "What's your goal?" I have various goals, but would rather not share them with people. I had a few people who kept saying, "Well, yeah, what's your mileage?" I'd respond, "All fun miles," and finally one guy I had to say, "LOOK, I don't want to talk about it - why don't you tell me your goals." He was happy to do that, and we had a nice conversation.

In the beginning, I was not topping the leaderboard at all, but I know Hinson. You get lots of people who just come out to run a fast 50k, fast marathon, whatever. People who think they're going to run all night, but don't. I had my pace, which was pretty chill, and I felt good. 

My pace was slower than I would have liked, but I stayed there, deciding to take it a bit easier and see what would happen. Every so often, I felt a twinge in my ankle, but it was definitely better.

Well, better until the 40s. I saw Ray, my coach, and we had a chat lap. He of course is always favor of pushing it, and doesn't really understand the concept of injury. I told him I was going to go to 100k, and then make a decision. I got into the 50s and still wasn't sure. Darkness began falling, and what was I doing out here.

My name was on the leaderboard. I watched myself climb places as people dropped from the race. 

The pain grew. It wasn't a twinge; it was full out pain. I was at mile 59 and starting to hurt.

Two more. I can do this.

I finished those two more - at what cost? I was nearly limping at the end. I didn't take my own advice.

I was in second place.

I walked away.

My tendon was hurting a lot. Did I ruin myself?

I saw Ray, "Maybe you want to just rest and then --"

No, this isn't something an hour or two can cure.

I drove back to my sister's and was there in the morning to wake up with her kids. I took a week off of running fully - and was able to come back to running. Listen first, run later.

VERY Belated Pajama Run Race Report

Super delayed, but better late than never! 

Richie and the BUS crew moved the Pajama Run to Fort Totten Park in Queens...a way more inconvenient location, but there was a nice breeze, it was an interesting change, and there were raccoons (I am a bit scared of wildlife, so it made me run faster).

I began the race freaked out since apparently an email I had not fully read (I heart Richie, but his emails are like 10000 paragraphs long) said don't go topless. I had no shirt. Luckily I was fine w my sports bra and a mini-running skirt. We were basically running for 6 hours on what was the hottest and most humid day so far.

My legs still felt tired after VT100, and I ran well/crappy on and off. Some laps I was slower, others faster. 

I ran with good friends: Stephanie, Matt, Zandy, Karen, and others. There was a super dark section and I had no headlamp so I kept slowing down.

At one point, a runner I vaguely know said, "Oh, just doing a training run?" I said, "Excuse me?" and he said, "Well, you usually run way faster. So you must be taking it easy and just doing a training run." I swallowed all the profanity in the world and simply said, "I ran Vermont 100 last week. THIS IS hard. I am racing, trying to."

Really bummed me out to hear that negative comment. (Also similar: "I can't believe I'm keeping up with you. What's going on today?" "Wow. I caught the great Cherie Yanek. You must be really struggling." Thanks, maybe you're just rocking it?!)

I ended up with a decent amount of miles, and wiped down with baby wipes during the awards ceremony. I slathered some glitter on, shimmied into some sequins, and went out dancing at the House of Yes to the Kostume Kult Party with my Pink Lightning campmates! Great night!

Seven Times the Charm? Vermont 100: Cookies, Lightning, Hills, and Fun

Vermont 100 has become a tradition, a staple in my annual racing schedule. I skipped it one year, and I spent that entire weekend, jealous out of my mind with FOMO. A bit overwhelming.

And a mistake I won't make again!

The course is not that easy. While it's not technical like Hardrock, or with the altitude of Leadville, it has a lot of hills. A lot. Some sections have lovely nicknames like "Agony," and some hills seemingly go on forever. Like, "Are we ever going to get to Bill's? This hill never stops." My pacer last year pronounced it cruel.

But it's gorgeous. Meadows and hills and oh-so-scenic. Imagine you bought a calendar of Vermont. These vistas would make the pages. There are rolling hills and meadows and barns and silos and adorable cows and greenery and a section called "The Sound of Music Hills."

worship the oreo-choc chip cookie hybrid

And the food. I have never eaten better food at an ultra. Homemade cookies and grilled cheese and so many other things. I stuck mainly with my staples (gels, chews, those biscotti cookies Delta gives out (I found them on Amazon and bought them in bulk) and coconut waters) but went kind of crazy at Margaritaville (mile 58.5). I mean, maple coconut cookies and chocolate chip cookies baked ON TOP of Oreos. Please, just hand them all over.

Jen was excited to pace me, even though she had never run more than a marathon. She was really nervous, and I tried to explain, "Seriously, it's not a problem. The main things you need to be good at are making sure I don't get lost and keeping me awake."

She was stellar at both, and more.

This girl held my hand as I had a total breakdown - crying hysterically, thinking I was going to die and get struck by lightning. I went to the bathroom way too close to her far too many times (much to the delight of her adorable 4-year-old daughter. Oh, and by bathroom, I mean I squatted in the bushes or on a patch of dirt. I think I did use one port-a-potty, but they are few and far between.

at the start. i want to puke. i feel like i'm going to puke. omg. omg.

Jen and I drove up the day before. She's been through a bunch of major changes in the past year, and we talked abt them, and some changes I've been going through (You know, quitting a job I'd be at for ten years, re-discovering how awesome happiness is, studying yoga for four months while traveling around India, starting a new career of yoga teaching and freelance writing while trying to figure my life out.). She had never been to Vermont before, so I got to impress her with the amazingness of The Vermont Country Deli. (Those cookies in the front...just get one. No, get two. And also - the lemon blueberry tart. And the mac and cheese. And the sandwiches - get one on the marble rye. And the carrot cake. And the...and the everything.)

I had packed everything into drop bags a week earlier, so after getting lost (Another VT100 tradition for me.), I dumped off my drop bags, got my bib, greeted Amy (the awesome RD, and a fantastic elite ultrarunner in her own right), said hi to lots of friends. Then we found some friends front and center and sat down for the pre-race meeting. Rules and talking, and then dinner.

And then I got back to our adorable Airbnb (Fluffy free range chickens everywhere!!! I want to move to VT!), I discovered ALL of my gels were in my drop bags. I remembered finding a few extras that must've been with my first 20 miles stash. Jen hooked me up, and then I tried to go to bed at 8pm. 

That didn't happen.

Finally I fell asleep and then we got up at 230. I force fed myself half of a bagel, drank some smoothie, and then dragged Wayne out of bed. Jen seemed the most ready, and I felt like I was going to vomit.

But then I started. I settled into a rhythm pretty quickly and felt kinda decent.

I also knew I had no business shooting for the moon. But you try anyway, right? Because if you don't, well, what's the worth of living in mediocrity?

My training had been crappy. I didn't have a strong enough base from being in India in yoga-land (I often started meditating and chanting and asana at 6 or 7am, which meant I had to get my run in before...and there weren't too many safe places or enough sunlight for me to run enough.) and then dealing with my weak ankle...I had one 100k, an 18 miler, two 16 milers, and a handful of 13 milers. Ummmm, yeah.

But mentally, I was good. All this yoga has really settled me. I have never felt so mentally good. The miles flew away. I kept running. I walked some atrocious hills. I did what I could. I didn't feel bad when I knew I wasn't running as strong. I caught up with friends. I enjoyed the views. I ate tasty treats.

Jen was the best crew. She showed up at all the aid stations with so much energy. It really kept me going. (That, and the popsicles...."I want the red flavor." Not cherry, red.)

It was hot, but not too hot. I enjoyed the peacefulness of my mind, the beauty of the hills. I reflected on so many of the changes, and hydrated in between.

My feet were also in pretty good shape. Farm to Feet had offered me an ambassadorship, which meant free socks - but I have never had such good feet after a race. (Usually I am covered with blisters. This time - whew!)

And then somehow - I was back at Camp Ten Bear again. It was time to start running with Jen.

So glad Jen joined me at Camp Ten Bear my second time...just over 69 miles run!

We had a good time. We talked and laughed, told each other tales about our day.

It was dark just before Spirit of 76, and I was glad to get there. Wayne was there! Always a great pickup.

A few miles beyond, we picked up another runner at an aid station. Riley was only 21 and so full of good energy. We chatted as we ran.

And then the lightning began.

I am totally afraid of lightning. You can die it if hits you.

Riley and I were holding hands. We were both crying. I'm pretty sure if was not either of our finer moments in ultrarunning.

The rain began. In buckets. It sucked. I have not been wearing my glasses very long, and this was my first time racing in glasses (I only wear them at night). The rain was hitting them sideways. It sucked.

Bill's was a haven. I peed in the port-a-potty and then we didn't stay too long. It was kind of like carnage. Wayne never showed up (He got lost with the thunder and lightning.) and I figured he was asleep in the car.

When we took off, the rain had stopped. Everything was somewhat magical and dewy and beautiful. My hallucinations were intense and things were glowing and gorgeous. I could do this. I could do this.

And then I couldn't. The rain picked up. It drenched us. I fell apart. My hallucinations went from gorgeous pieces of art to scary things. I stopped looking off trail; there were too many scary things popping out that weren't really there.

Riley took off. I began almost falling asleep. The rain in my eyes. It was all too much.

The lightning. I was pretty sure we were going to die.

I got to Polly's, mile 94.5 or so. I didn't want to leave. I was shivering. They fed me warm plain noodles in water. I didn't want to leave. What? I figured I'd wait out the rain. (Bad tactic - it never stopped and I just wasted time.)

Then we left. More lightning. We were running through open fields, and I was pretty sure I would never go to Burning Man or do anything. I was going to get torched by lightning. (I somehow never thought Jen would; just me.)

But we made it. The trails became horrendously muddy and difficult and barely runable. I slogged. Mudfest.

And then, I saw the sign for a mile. I wanted to cry. It still felt so far.

Jen was there. We saw a huge hill. "Are you going to run this thing?"

"This course is eating me alive."

And we pushed. And we pushed and we pushed.

I finished. It was pretty miserable at the finish line, but Amy was super nice, giving hugs, buckles, amazing shorts (great schwag!) and then I had hot cocoa. 

The race was a big deal for me and Jen. She's never run further, and I never ran a 100 on such poor training. It pulled us closer together, we shared so much about ourselves, and I'm so glad she was there for me.

Wayne was there with hugs and rain jackets for both of us, and I am so grateful that even though life isn't perfect, he's always there to try to make it as good as possible.

And obviously...this will not be my last time at my fave 100 miler!

The end. See ya next year, VT100!

Post finish. Best hot cocoa. Seriously, it was a packet, but tasted divine.

All pics by the best pacer, Jen Cwiok! (except maybe Wayne took the ones of us together, but Jen was the photo director)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I was pretty good the next day.

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

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?

Burning Man Ultramarathon 2015 Race Report

Start of the 2015 race; photo by Jeff Clark

What can I say about the Burning Man Ultramarathon? It was fun. It was dancing and shots and heckling and dust (oh so much dust) and sweat and love and fun and the most gorgeous sunrise ever and poson-race quesadillas and port-a-potties and everything. It doesn't matter who won, it matters who ran, and I ran, and my experience was wonderful. (Of course as the RD I care who won, but I'm not writing about that here. For that race report, you'll have to look to Ultrarunning magazine.) I had my usual bathroom troubles, ran pretty much the entire time, laughed a lot, got hugs and high fives. I finished in the dust and it was the very essence of Burning Man.

Hinson Lake 24 Hour Race Report (2015)

I wasn't sure how I was feeling about Hinson Lake 24 Hour, but I decided to go with how I was feeling.

Lately, I've been struggling with some issues unrelated to running, and it's impacting most things, including running. The summer was a blur of busy-ness for Burning Man, including tons and tons of planning for the Burning Man Ultramarathon. In the end, I'm glad of the time I invested, but at the same time, it's a lot of time where my mind can't focus on other things. Like my own personal racing. When life is a constant busy blur, often dominated by unhappiness, it can be very difficult to focus on athletic pursuits...or creative dreams.

I made the decision to do what I could. 50 miles was what I thought I'd do, though maybe just 50k. And if I was killing it, running really well, why, I'd finish the whole damn thing.

And I really lived by that, and didn't feel bad one bit for my decision.

My visits to NC have always been surrounded by my sister, but with her two kids that I'm becoming increasing attached to, it was difficult to leave them and run a race. But I did it, as I'm an ultrarunner.

As I drove to the race, it was pitch black and pouring. Not the best way to approach a race. I had grabbed a random handful of CDs leaving NYC, not even looking at them, and one of them was the Beatles Anthology. "Let It Be" came on and I burst into tears, thinking of how horrible it was that John Lennon was shot and what kind of world we livee in. Um, not the best mood to approach a 24 hour race with.

When I got to the start, it wasn't pouring, but definitely raining. I caught up with old friends, chatted. I told a few people of my intention to "only" run 50k or 50 miles, and many echoed my sentiments. Others applauded me for being in the moment I needed to be in. The kindness of others, like Dan, kept my personal items sheltered from the , and good friends cheered me on the entire time.

And OFF. I felt good, and took off at a decent pace. Not as fast as usual, but GO. I enjoyed the good old Hinson Lake course, and chatted with friends. I thought about how much I loved the ultrarunning community. It was fun.

After about ten miles though, the race felt harder than it should. I knew I wouldn't go 24 hours. 50 miles was all. Maybe even 50k? But not 24 hours.

The course is a loop of abt 1.55 miles, with a few small hills (that feel like mountains after a while). Local running store/club Vac and Dash decorate the course with hilarious signs ("Mt Hinson," "Ooooh we're halfway there ooooh living on a prayer," "98 Miles to South of the Border," "Jerry's Food Castle"), and the vibe is FUN AWESOME PARTY. People may have even been taking shots or drinking beers. It's one of my top three fave races (with obviously the Burning Man Ultramarathon being one, and Vermont 100 being number two).

I decided to have a fun day. I'd catch up to a friend who was walking, or someone who was walking and wanted to chat, and I'd take a break to chat and catch up. I stopped to pee when I needed to. I ate frosted pumpkin cookies and cupcakes and pumpkin chocolate chip bread and potatoes. I laughed. I did the Ray K shuffle with the legend himself. (He'd kill me if he knew I said that.) I had fun.

me and shannon at the start of the race. i'm representing the black rock city 50k!!!

Around mile 25 or so, I ran into my friend Shannon. She was only going to do 50k, so I finished 50k with her. I decided I felt like I could go longer, but I didn't feel like doing 50 miles. So I chose 40 to be my ultimate mileage.

It was great to chat and catch up with Shannon, and she really pushed me. She's an amazing runner (123 miles in 24 hours) and an animal activist (the woman loves and rescues dogs). We caught up on love and life and career and running and community. It was grea.t

Post-Shannon, I ran, I chatted, I walked occasionally, I ate good foods.

And then I finished. 40 miles. I don't remember the time, but really, I don't care. And honestly, I ran more than 40 miles, though I couldn't tell you the exact amount. Who cares? I was there. I ran. I had fun with friends. 

It wasn't my fave Hinson Lake, but it was the one I needed to have.

Vermont 100 (2015) Race Report: Top

It's been a while since I ran 100 miles at Vermont. I had a rough race. I had my second slowest Vermont. Funny - I didn't feel like death marching, though I probably was at times. My pace was waaaaaaaay slower earlier in the race. (Even in my slowest VT100, I still came into Camp Ten Bear in the light....it was dark, scary dark this year.)

me and the legendary john geesler

I didn't want to run Vermont. I wanted to stay at home and eat tacos and read poetry and drink tea. Unfortunately, I didn't do that, though I still did have some fun at Vermont. 

The summer turned into a blur post VT100. I didn't have time to write a race report. Now, months late, I want to write one, but many details are fuzzy. Thus, I'll do a top ten: the worst and best of Vermont 100!

Best:

1. Aid stations. They're great. Grilled cheese while running? Pancakes for breakfast aid stations? YES PLEASE.
2. Views. Super duper pretty. Just gorgeous.
3. Interesting course.
4. My pacers were amazing. Fun. Wonderful. Cheerful. Great.
5. Nothing like running for glow sticks. Kind of like a rave, and you hallucinate naturally.
6. My pacers giving me amazing baked goods.
7. Great, friendly runners.
8. The volunteers are so nice. Neighbors even random left lemonade at one spot.
9. Lovely sunrise.
10. Horses.

Worst:

1. Hills. OMG the hills. Seriously. How are there this many hills - and why do we come back?
2. The rain. We hid out at an aid station from the rain during a horrendous downpour.
3. My asthma sucked all day.
4. OMG the hills. Seriously.
5. Mud. Juicy, delicious mud.
6. The hills.
7. Lack of sleep.
8. The hills.
9. Worrying about weight gain/loss (yep, I did both).
10. The hills.

I made a few realizations....too many 100s destroys Cherie. I'll be focusing more on 50 milers for a while...I feel way too burnt out. I'll stick with one 100 a year....and yes, Vermont 100 miler will be it!

100 Miles of Running Misery and (Mis)Adventure and Fun: The Great New York 100 Mile Running Exposition

Starting line of class of 2015 TGNY - photo by the amazing Oh Snapper

I kind of have wanted to stop doing so many 100 milers. But not TGNY - it's in my city, all my friends are either running, pacing, or staffing an aid station, and it's the most awesome way to see NYC!

You run through Manhattan, the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, and again, Manhattan. The course isn't super hilly - there are a few small hills, and some bridges (some so horrendously terrible that I want to cry just thinking of them...). You have to deal with traffic lights and cars and I almost got hit by cars too many times, and there are some arrows on the ground, but it's hard to tell which are TGNY 100's and which are ConEd's, so you're flipping through a turn-by-turn directional sheet and I only got lost six times. (SIX TIMES. HA!) You run through tons of awesome parks, different beaches, and see a diversity of people like nowhere else. NYC is my favorite city in the world, and thus, I adore this race.

Phil McCarthy is the RD - yeah, that Phil McCarthy, American record holder for 48 hours. Also, musician, super-nice guy. The race has a really homey vibe, and the volunteers go all out, buying tons of food for runners, decorating aid stations (Wayne put up my surfboard with TGNY 100 on it in green el-wire and his big kite up.), and so much love. I want to cry thinking of it (of the love and the pain, hahah).

Jill encouraged me to try the low FODMAP diet the day before the race to eliminate stomach problems. Unfortunately, it seems like the gluten free flours do not agree with me (not the first time I've had this happen....I ate gluten-free cookies a few years ago at a race and dry heaved for hours...). I live, I learn, I experiment.

I felt good, running with friends in the beginning, chatting. The pace was fine, I felt good. I grabbed a coffee cake to go from Mary's aid station at mile 5 (which saved me later on) and then, before mile 10, saw my friends peeling off from me. I ducked into the bathroom twice. How the hell was my race over before mile 10?

Early in the miles. My stomach had already started bothering me. Photo (c) by Oh Snapper.

I began slowing down. Eating was out of the question. I couldn't do this. In Van Cortlandt Park, Karen caught up to me and we began chatting. Then suddenly, I said, "I have to throw up." She said, "Do you--" "No." I was grateful she ran on, as I dry heaved, crying hysterically (I always cry when I throw up) into the bushes. I got up, walked a bit, and then began running slowly. Then I ducked into the bushes and was grateful I brought toilet paper.

Running sucks.

I ran on. I got slower. I would have to drop. There was no way I could finish this brutal thing. I texted my pacers something like, "Mile 16. My stomach sucks." And then I ran a bit, and then sat in a bench, holding my stomach. Shannon and his friend Chuck showed up. I got up and began running with them. Then we stopped so Chuck could get this few inch stick out of his shoe. 

Running with Shannon and Chuck was fun. They made me laugh a lot. Shannon told us abt showing up drunk at the start. I stopped and hula hooped with a bunch of fiftysomething ladies in the Bronx. It was fun.

We ended up getting separated in Orchard Beach. I was happy to reach Orchard Beach, and kind of wanted to take a photo, but didn't feel like taking my camera out. Anyway, cameras don't capture THE EMOTIONS which are the real thing, anyway.

And then, leaving the Orchard Beach Aid Station, I got lost for the first time. It took me probably around 15 minutes to figure out I was lost and to get back on track. I ended up running with a really nice 100k runner and her massive running posse. (She told me her name but I was a bit of a zombie and am lucky I remembered my own!) We ran through some more parks in the Bronx, and then, I lost them when I ran under the Deegan. You're running under the Deegan Expressway, with a highway on the right side of you and railyards on the left. Pretty ugly. I picked up the pace to get out of there.

And then - the Triboro bridge to Randall's Island. I ran across it, feeling okay. Randall's Island is mulberries and organized sports and quiet and green. It was really nice. But getting back on the Triboro Bridge to Queen was a different story. I began freaking out. 

Ever since I got my concussion two years ago, bridges have freaked me out. The morning after I got my concussion, I ran the Brooklyn Bridge and got the worst case of veritgo and was freaked out.  I removed the Brooklyn Bridge from my regular rotation. 

On the Triboro, I began okay, but once the side dropped lower I freaked out. I gripped onto the railing and said, "You can do this, Cherie. You know you can. C'mon..."

Two girls walked up behind me. "Are you okay?"

I realized they probably thought I was going to kill myself. "I'm really scared of this bridge. I don't know why. Can I walk w you?"

I walked with them, babbling nonsense; they were very lovely. Then, Jurgen ran up and grabbed my hand. "C'mon Cherie." We ran across, holding hands, me death-gripping his hand until I felt okay (aka off the scary bridge). Then we ran to the aid station where I saw my first pacer, Menachem.

Menachem watched me shovel in pretzels, a Girl Scout Cookie, and a half water-half red Gatorade drink. We took off, me babbling like I was on some sort of bizarre drug (which I wouldn't recommend this type of drug if it did exist...it would send people to insanity!) and then we began running. We quickly became lost, and again. Theme of the day.

My stomach was feeling better, and I ate some Hammer gels and Hammer solids. My calves hurt terribly and I told Menachem I wanted to stop. "No, you don't want to stop...Look at those bushes. I just love perfectly manicured bushes....Doesn't the sound of the highway next to us remind you of the ocean? It's lulling me..." and on. Menachem has a very soft, soothing voice, and I felt like I was going insane, so we were a great combination.

"I hate everything in the world."

"No, you do."

"Yes, I even hate Pistachio."

Menachem then texted my other pacers, "Cherie hates everything, even her cat." Haha.

We ran with Karen for a little bit. We ran, we walked, we talked, I babbled. I can't even tell you what we talked about. It might've been in German or Spanish. I'm not sure. I was pretty out of it.

Alley Pond Park was amazing. Soft, squishy path. It felt wonderful.

In Queens, you basically run from park to park to park to park. It's awesome. You probably didn't know there were so many parks in Queens. Then, finally, in one of the parks: MEG!!!!

Meg moved from LA back in September and has become one of my regular running partners. She's never done an ultra, but has a ton of great energy. I wanted to cry and somehow, she picked me up, emotionally threw me over her shoulder, and dragged me off. We began slogging ahead.

My calves were hurting so terribly. My stomach felt on and off. Everything sucked. I wanted to quit. Unfortunately, I sent Meg an email that told her to push me. She kept referencing this email. I'm glad I sent it, but oh, how I did want to quit.

Meg took this selfie of the two of us, and posted on FB, asking people to help motivate me

 We got to 100k and I was grateful. I ate a little and Trishul told me that I had 50% left when some girl tried to tell me I "only" had 38 miles. "The hardest part is the end." He also told me that he hear that I was struggling. Yes, I know. But not what I want to hear. Sigh.

We took off, Meg following the directions. Then we ran into another pace, Joe. I never met him before, but Facebook is a very wonderful thing sometimes. He ended up being totally awesome and an amazing pacer.

I got a strawberry Italian ice, which was wonderful. I went back and forth between wanting to quit and hating everything. Hey, that doesn't sound fun? Not really. I was a bit of a hot mess. Okay, I was a MASSIVE hot mess. Kind of embarrassing to be around a totally strange guy and a friend who had never seen me so low. Oops. They pushed me and Meg said, "You can make a decision to drop out when you get to Wayne." (Meg is a big liar, but I love her for that lie.)

At mile 66 or so, before the bridges, we got to Yuri's aid station. He gave me an intense massage which involved cracking my back and me screaming. Pedestrians called the police for torture. Kidding about that, but passerby peered out the windows of their cars to see what was going on. Apparently, several people were asking how much a massage was. Yuri told them the cost was running 66 miles.

We left. I did feel a ton better. I ran a bit, we walked less. Broad Channel is a strange place, but pretty beautiful. And then, somehow, we got to Wayne's aid station, mile 71. I was ecstatic. I began cheering before they got there, and Wayne and my friend Sherry both knew it was me and cheered for me.

I completely changed my outfit while eating pretzels. Okay, I ate a pretzel and a half, but I tried to convince Joe that was plenty.

Then we left. I was suffering. I was miserable. We ran. I whined. They put up w me. We stopped at some random bar to use the bathroom, and got yelled, "You don't speak English?" I really wanted to reply, "Hablo espanol solo."

I wanted to drop. But Joe was really mean and wanted to see the evil Marine Parkway Bridge. I got really freaked out and had to hold hands with Joe and Meg. My legs cramped up really bad and I just had a meltdown when I got off the bridge. I threw myself on the ground whining and moaning. At one point, I told Joe I would run if he could catch a nearby rabbit, which he tried, but rabbits being rabbits, are impossible to catch.

I slogged on. I felt like crap and was so negative, I know. I'm sorry Meg and Joe. You two were stars and I was sooooo miserable. 

We passed by more rabbits and I saw some lovely hallucinations, a la balloon strings like you see at Burning Man. 

I threw myself down on the ground and put my legs in the air because my calves Hurt. So. Freaking. Much. Then I put my legs down and was refusing to get up. Then I saw flashing lights. I sat up. It was a cop. 

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just ran 77 miles and I hurt."

"Do you want some water?"

"No, I have water," I told him.

"She's fine," Meg assured him.

And then I got the hell up and slogged on. Could it be called a run at this point? A walk? No, a slog. A suffering slog.

By Plumb Beach, where Wayne goes kitesurfing, we met up with a random super nice guy, Izzy. He was nonstop cheerful and I was a bit cranky. But I somehow dragged my ass to 80, where Meg said I could decide to quit.

AS IF I WOULD QUIT WITH JUST 20 MILES TO GO. (Meg is pretty smart.)

Joe and Meg said they'd come if I wanted, but it had already been a long day for both of them, so I told them to do whatever they wanted. 

They left, and I took off with Pete, who also paced me last year. He didn't get me lost at all, was cheerful, and a great pacer. Izzy was with us at the start. I had to go to the bathroom, as my stomach hated me again. Fun fact: the bathrooms in Coney Island at the boardwalk are open. Hurrah!

We trucked on. Pete and I stopped in a gas station so I could get an iced tea. I have to say - that's the most bizarre thing about this race. You're running 100 miles but suddenly you pop into a deli, and then you start reading labels to find an iced tea sans high fructose corn syrup. Pete was patient with me, as all my pacers were. (They are probably talking to my parents and Wayne about locking me up now...)

The caffeine perked me up, and made me have to pee. So now I was stopping to pee every 15 minutes. Or so it seemed.

At 85 - I made it to 85!!! - we now headed to the Shore Parkway. And it was raining. Raining hard at times. I was wearing shoes w the toes cut out (to accommodate for swelling) and my socks became wet. The tape on my neuroma caused blisters, so I took it off - but too late. My blisters grew worse. I tried not to cry. 

I ran until the blisters hurt, then walked. We talked about UTMB, friends in the ultrarunning community and how they were doing, I don't even know. I was kind of out of it. At two points in the race, I saw people I know very well and looked right through them, a la zombie. (Sorry, Deanna and Mary.)

Brooklyn.

And then THE BRIDGE. Of course I was freaked out. But then - then - we were getting up there....

I loved once we got into the numbers. As we climbed higher, I got more and more excited....and then I heard cheering and saw the finish line.

Finish line. Me, awesome RD Phil McCarthy, and my awesome pacer Pete Priolo. I don't even remember Mon Ferrer taking this photo.

Gratitude.

For being finished. 

For Phil for putting on the race.

For my amazing pacers.

For Menachem for making me feel like I was someplace else.

For Meg who refusing to let me quit.

For Joe who didn't back down when things got tough, even though he didn't know me.

For Pete, who led me straight into another finisher's medal and was an amazing rock.

For the parks of NYC and all their glory.

For all the other runners for being so fun and nice.

For Wayne and Sherry for being my rock to get to - and every other aid station.

All the aid stations were awesome. They were staffed by my friends, who bought great amazing treats to share and were smiling. It was wonderful seeing them.