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

               

Ultrarunner Podcast Interviews Me!

Very exciting: Ultrarunner Podcast interviews me!


Listen here...I talk about the Burning Man 50k and Rio del Lago 100 Miler.

"You're the runner."

I was fiddling with my new Garmin, a few weeks back, waiting for the satellites to load, when a man I don't know said, "It's a little late for you today, isn't it? You usually run much earlier."
 
"Um, yeah. Well, I ran earlier, but now I'm doing my second run of the day. I'm doing heat training, so trying to run in the heat of the day." The watch was taking forever.


He bent down to scoop up dog waste, and said, "What? Second run? How much do you run?"


"Usually about an hour and a half to two hours. A lot of days more."


"That's crazy. And two runs?"


"Yeah."


"What are you training for, a marathon?" (Ha!)


"I have a couple ultramarathons coming up. I'm running a 50k and a 100 miler."


"100 miles! That's crazy! No wonder I see you out here so much."






I was stunned. I had never seen this man in my life. I waved to him.


The next day, on my second run of the day, a guy said, "I always see you running. You never stop." Again, it was a man I never saw before.


Just like when our car driver to the airport in June recognized me.


They all know me by my running.


I see neighborhood: the new buildings, the lilac bushes on Oak Street, the cafe's proud proclamation of a new menu, how pretty the new park on North 6th looks at dusk, all the people from my health food store, the bartender at my favourite bar, the changed hours of the ice cream shop, the new classes at the yoga studio, the construction everywhere. I see people, yes, I see the woman who hoses her pristine front porch in her frilly nightgown, I see the old guy smoking cigarettes on my way to the ferry, I see the cowboy on my old block who always waves, I see my favourite Italian-American barber wave over trimming a man's hair, I see the staff from the local library. But I don't see everyone.

But they see me. And they recognize me for who I am: a runner. I guess it's a lot bigger than I realize.

For the Beauty of It

I sign up for ultras based on the beauty of the course. Likewise, Killian Jornet embodies the beauty of an ultrarunner on these amazingly gorgeous trails in these videos.

Decompressing From Many Things

Burning Man. California Trip. Rio del Lago 100 Miler. Another two races I ran poorly in. When will my running pick up again? My apartment’s a mess. My cat’s eating my plants. I have to kiss more ass at work. I have to think about strategy more. I have a mountain of dishes to wash. I have to spend more time with my grandma and my family. My sister is pregnant and far and I can’t even get to help her that much. I’m scared of my bank account. My Macy’s bill is overdue. I have a really long to-do list. I am trying not to think of all that is overwhelming.

But sometimes I get in these periods of decompressing. And I pull in closer to myself. I pull away. I spend days at cafés, in bed surrounded by fuzzy blankets and a good cat, writing, editing, making my manifesto. Baking, cooking. Food will heal.

Jenny and I swore we would change the world. That’s what we were gonna do. Sixteen with those smiles, we were confident we’d make a difference. And now, we sit, chopsticks in our hands, and think, “What have we done? What’s next? Will we accomplish all that we wanted to?”

And I wonder, will we?

Naked Feet

I’ve been enjoying Vibram runs on the regular. I find my feet feel lighter, my form is vastly improved, and it requires less socks to wash. Okay, the last part is not why I wear them, but I like wearing them.

During the Burning Man 50k, I had a pair of old sneakers I was running in. At Burning Man, I generally wear a pair of sneakers that I was planning on tossing near the end of its life, and after running all week, throw them out. I planned on doing that with these shoes…until mile 12.

The shoes felt tight, and it felt like a massive blister was forming on my big toe. I wasn’t sure if there actually was one (You know how you never can tell?) but when I started altering my toe, I decided something had to be done.

I removed both my shoes and continued running in socks.

The playa surface is rather soft, most of the time, so except for two sections in Deep Playa, I was great. It felt heaps better than running in those wretched shoes (which, for the record, are in a landfill somewhere near my friend’s mom’s house in Santa Cruz where we left our garbage), though the blister slightly hurt. When I finished, I removed the sock and saw an incredibly massive and disgusting blister close to the size of my small toe attached to my big toe. Ow.  (This required the medical tent and a patient boyfriend who helped me clean and wrap it all week.)

But I ended up running about 17 or 18 miles in just socks. After, I was completely fine (except the extra toe…), no intense calf pain. I realized my Vibram runs of 11 miles this summer really helped. Basically, most runs under 10 miles or 11 miles, I’d run in Vibrams. My lunchtime runs I ran in Vibrams. This all helped prepare me to run more than half of an ultramarathon in just socks – and to have a blast while doing so.

The Hotter, The Better

I’m a summer girl, a beach girl. When it’s 98 and humid and everyone’s melting, I’m complaining a little but mostly loving it, loving my tequila lemonades, my skimpy dresses, the teeny bikinis, the long hours under the tree shelter on the trails, the walks around Brooklyn at night, the sitting on the waterfront with my best friends sneaking drinks out of Sigg water bottles…I love the heat.

But this summer, I knew that two of my races would demand expertise with heat – the  Burning Man 50k, an absolutely fun race that I direct, and the Rio del Lago 100 Miler. Both were hot – Rio del Lago was 97 with lots of miserably exposed sections and lots of dust.

I knew I needed heat training. My weekend runs were great, but I needed more training. Luckily, my boss is understanding (though she doesn’t comprehend why I do such things) and my job immensely flexible. So I’d work at home from 8am-noon, and then head out for a run for 90-120 minutes in the hot hot hot heat of the day. I’d wear sunblock, carry water, put on a visor, and go. The heat would drain me. Post run, I’d shower, eat something, and often just sit zombie-like on my futon, finishing the workday, glad my work only required me to sit and not move. The heat and humidity would drain me.

But it prepared me. As much as those runs sucked, as slow as I went in 95 degree temps, it prepared me. Rio del Lago felt ridiculously hot, yes, but I felt mostly okay. I attribute it to the heat training.

And now it’s getting cold. Autumn demands more snuggle time, long-sleeved tea shirts, and tea with pumpkin cookies post run. I’ll miss my sports bra-and-shorts-only runs…oh, yes, I will.

Black Rock City 50k: A Race Report of the 2nd Annual Burning Man Ultramarathon

When I went to Burning Man for the first time, I kept thinking, "I should organize an ultramarathon." Everyone told me I was crazy. On my second Burn, my friend Rich told me if I organized it, he'd help me. So last year I organized the first 50k, and this year, I did it again.

Burning Man is all about crazy, so an ultra fits just perfectly.

We started at 5a.m., playa time, on 10:00 and Liminal, past Opulent Temple and Temple of Boom and all the clubs with all the people still raging, clad in el wire and fake fur and glitter and dust. We ran straight up 10:00, made a right on Esplanade (Black Rock City's "Main Street"), ran past the big camps, the people stumbling around, the people still partying from the night before, and past the sleepy-eyed few who rose early to catch the sunrises, which are almost always glorious in Black Rock City. We made a right on 2:00, running down past some of the big party camps, waving at Hookah Dome, hoping for champagne from Bubbles and Bass. And then past the heckling camp, where many of us heckled back, alongside 2:00 and the walk-in camping, and then a left at trash fence, another left, and then a left on 10:00. Four full loops, and the fifth loop, we did an out and back, all the way out to 2:00 between Birthday and Coming Out (yes, those are the names of streets there).

Everyone was excited at the start. People found our glowing bikes on the corner of 10 and L, just past a large Washington Monument-like sculpture. There were hugs, people giving out glow bracelets, sharing running snacks, stories, excitement. Some people got to the start just minutes before after being in the gate line to get into Black Rock City. 



The course was much simpler than last year, so most people pretty much understood it. The terrain is the playa sand - alkaline sand. It is flat, at high altitude. Dust storms can come, insane heat, who knows what else? Runners ran with bandanas around their neck for protection from dust storms. Everyone was instructed to carry water.





Everyone was in it to have fun. Most people ran with their full heart, some people ran until the painful point, some ran a few laps until they couldn't/didn't want to do any more, some people accepted beers/vodka shots/champagne (me on the latter!). I ran in a fringed sports bra and a tutu, both made by me. And a silly visor so I'd avoid last year's lip sunburn.

I felt great the first lap, but my shoe felt kinda tight. The second lap a blister was definitely growing on my big toe. I complained to the English guy I was running with, who specifically came to Burning Man to run the ultra. I was turning my foot inward to avoid pain. Finally, at the start of the third lap, I removed my shoes and ran in just my socks. Heavenly. I still felt the blister, but it was a million times less painful and I didn't have to alter my stride. I carried my shoes until I reached the second aid station a few miles later and proceeded to run the rest of the ultra in just my socks - which worked because I have been training a lot in my Vibrams this summer, and because the majority of the course was rather soft, and rocks are rare.



The male winner, Duncan Hancox, won in 3:50, and the first woman, Kathy D'Onfrio took 4th place overall with 4:51. Full results can be seen here, though a large number of DNFs and just-for-fun runners are not included due to it being Burning Man the results not being 100% perfectly recorded.







North Brooklyn Runners, a running club I am a part of, had five runners, including the 2nd place man, Johnny Max. I had hoped to run faster than last year, and the course may have been slightly longer - or it may have just been the playa or my blister. Upon completion of the race, I removed my sock to see a blister that was the size of my little toe attached to my big toe. I had to leave sooner than I hoped to get some medical attention for my footsie - and keep my feet as clean as possible the rest of the Burn.



What's so special about this ultra? Encouragement. I have never had such great appreciation from the audience. As I am a trail runner, most of my races lack any kind of audience, so this was a real treat for me. The crowds were lively, hilarious, and encouraging. The runners were as well. We had one runner finish completely naked (but he, unlike me, kept his sneakers on!). Homemade numbers and homemade medals contributed to the loving, homemade vibe. Runners brought one bottle of water plus a running snack to share, so everyone contributed towards everyone else's race.




Lessons were learned - next year, the start/finish will be arranged at Camp Twin Bikini to offer shade, space for relaxation, and post-race party. The aid stations will be spread out slightly more. And perhaps we'll even have a few bottles of celebratory champagne for runners!  

Ode to My Bike

I've had Mabel, my purple mountainbike, since my 18th birthday. I was excited when I got her - finally, I got rid of that wretched pink road bike I sped through the suburbs on. I pictured myself riding Mabel on dirt roads, but really, she tends to stick to real roads. The Williamsburg Bridge is a regular haunt for her.

Biking in NYC is a tricky thing - there are cars that hate bikes, cars that don't like for bikes, oblivious pedestrians, weather, potholes, but honestly, the freedom my bike gives me overpowers all of that. 

I love biking in miniskirts while singing at top of my lungs. It's kind of a signature move for me - a friend in my running club said a while ago, "I saw some girl in a short miniskirt and pink legwarmers singing while biking down Kent and I knew it had to be you." Of course.

And in honour of my beloved Mabel, who will hopefully never be stolen, I share a bike cheer we did years ago on Critical Mass on the eve of the anti-RNC protests when several friends were arrested (Booo, NYPD!):

I like to bike-bike
Because to bike is what I like!
On all cars and trucks we call a general strike!

I like to bike - bike
Calling all bikers to unite!
I think I'd like to trade that car in for a bike!

'Cause there ain't no power like pedal power 'cause the pedal power don't stop!
--Say what?
It's an anti-fossil fuel revolution from the bottom up to the top!

So fuck cops when they try to keep us
from taking the streets
Every day is critical mass!
So jump on a bike
and join with us
and together we'll kick the gas!

It Wasn't Fun: Rio del Lago 100 Mile Race Report

Rio del Lago 100 Miler sucked. It was hot, it was hillier than I thought, it was dusty, I got tons of rocks in my shoes, I had blisters everywhere, I was SO tired I hallucinated like crazy (bushes of skeletons, people in the tree stumps, cars that were really trees...) - and somehow, I finished. I finished 100 miles, tears in my eyes, miserable, hating it -


- but somehow, loving that I am unable to quit.


I wasn't having fun. I remember when my friend Kim quit a 100 miler and I asked her why. She said, "It stopped being fun. And if it's not fun, why bother?"


I offered this excuse to my pacer when I wanted to drop out. She said, "You don't do this because it's fun. You do it because you're TOUGH. You do it to measure your toughness." I whined, tears in my eyes, "I don't care about toughness. I do it for fun." And she made me suck up my tears and keep moving. I was so frustrated at her, but at the same time, I'm glad she pushed me.


The race itself is pretty: it's a 100 mile race that includes a lot of loops, out-and-backs, so you end up seeing the same stations (and unfortunately, the aid stations didn't feature a lot to look for). Views of the lake, the river, pretty trees. It's a lot of and downs, rolling hills, rocks, dust, exposed sections. You have some random loops and they actually felt kind of pointless. No one I talked to was in love with the course. But it was pretty. And kind of neat that you get to run on part of the Western States course, including the infamous "No Hands Bridge." The course includes two truly hellacious hills, Cardiac, which sucked, but K2 was way worse, especially since it was so exposed.


The heat killed a lot of people. 35 out of 85 people finished, and I bet the heat was a contributing factor to the high DNF rate. I carried two water bottles, and some times, it wasn't even enough. The aid station volunteers usually had ice, which was absolutely delicious (and for my pacer, Kathy D'Onfrio and I, it was also a bit of a luxury as the two of us had come from Burning Man the week before where ice in drinks is rare). I had sunblock in one drop station bag, but wished the aid stations had some. The aid stations had only the bare minimum - M&Ms, sometimes gus, sometimes cookies, sometimes chips, rarely (but deliciously!) grilled cheese, sometimes (but not always, which I think is crazy!) band-aids and First Aid. The latter should have been at every aid station - first aid is important. I had the blisters from hell, and band aids would have helped. I ended up wrapping a blister in toilet paper at one point. Ghetto, but it kind of worked.


Up, down, when is this over? The miles trickled down. Stomach issues plagued me miles 13-18. And again at mile 30. And it was so hot. I ran almost the entire race in just a sports bra, even in the middle of the night.


The worst part was the hallucinations. I was so sleepy, I stopped twice right on the trail, sat on a rock or some dirt, and slept into my hand. My pacer was telling me, "You can't sleep. Get up." I ignored her. My 5 hour energy shot unusually lasted maybe 30 minutes.  Finally, I allowed Kathy to force feed me half a Vivrin, which is the only way I finished. But in between the sleepiness and the Vivrin, and even after finishing, I was hallucinating like crazy. Everything turned into something else. We saw what I originally thought was a deer but what Kathy said was a bobcat but what my friend (who knew the woods) thought was a mountain lion. Either way, I proudly represented my New York roots and let out a blood curdling scream. The animal hurled itself into the far distance.

Chafing got bad. I took off my underwear, and kept running/stumbling/hobbling. I wanted to wallow in self-pity and cry and Kathy wouldn't let me. "Don't cry. Put that away." I felt like she was being harsh because I just wanted to sob my heart out, but she pushed me to run my heart out. Of course that's what I needed to do, but all I wanted to do was curl up and sleep at the side of the trail.


When I was done, I was done. I just simply accepted my 6th belt buckle and removed my shoes, which were causing my many blisters excruciating pain. I examined my feet and shuddered. I rinsed off in the beautiful lake and then hobbled back to the car. Kathy and I ate and I admired her strength and perseverance. Two Western States wins, the course record and another win for Rio del Lago...she's fast. She's got it mentally. Me, like everyone, I need a little more work.


Still hallucinating post race, I napped at the Auburn aid station. And woke up ready to leave. And run. I don't know if I'll do that next 100 miler in Louisiana in December, but you know what? I'm not quitting ultrarunning anytime soon.

DNF is not in my vocabulary.

Great Comments...But Really, What Would You Do?

I got some great feedback from an old, good friend about my recent Re-Entry blog post. He IMd me, 


 Dont forget that the hectic world we live in needs people like us, more than ever.  So many are content with their day to day lives, i phones and all that and dont stop to think about making a difference.  Imagine the outside world if people like us lived on the playa all the time, scary huh?  You came to some good conclusions. 


And yes, are you content? What are you doing to make a difference? Because isn't making a difference what we're all about? How are you making a difference?

Re-Entry

One of the hardest things about going to Burning Man is coming back. Decompression. How do you go from being in the most wonderful, accepting, free, creative, fun place in the world (Some might even call it their home...) to the default world of work and bills and taxes and tipping 20% and scooping the cat's litter box and changing the Brita filter and making small talk with the mail carrier and trying to do it all in the small amount of time you have?

It's hard. Decompression.

Last year was ridiculously difficult; my grandfather died when I was on the playa, and I came back to that sad news, and also missed the funeral. My sister flew up to comfort me, my friends rallied around me. I barely noticed the default world; I just went from the happiest to the saddest.

This year, I went from the playa to Reno to Santa Cruz (to clean stuff) to San Jose (to put stuff in storage) back to Santa Cruz then to San Francisco, where I worked and hung out with friends and chilled in one of my favourite cities, then onto Granite Bay for Rio del Lago 100 Miler (Don't do a 100 miler less than a week after Burning Man.) and then to Marin to see a friend and then fly home.

And now I'm home. It's so weird to be back. My kitty. My purple striped sheets. The blue walls. My mint plants. My wide variety of spices. All the lotions and soaps and eye makeup products.

And my pile of playa in the middle of my living room.

It's hard to not be confused.

And most of all, how do we keep all that we processed on the playa? I did a lot of work, a lot of thinking, a lot of re-evaluating. I don't want to give that all up. I need to live up to a few decisions I made out there - like I need to pursue my writing more. I need to figure out what's next (or just let it happen - but either way, I cannot avoid it). I need to relax more. Just let things be. Do less stressful things. Make sure that ultimately, what it comes down to, is I make a difference in this world.

Because if you don't make a difference, what's the point?

 

Focus

For the past summer, my mind has been focused on running hard, running hot. I've run 40 miles in insane humidity, high heat. I've worked flexibly (Thanks, job!), inserting 90 minute runs in the middle of my workday at the heat of the day. I've trained hard. 

I'm ready.

Tomorrow is the Rio del Lago 100 Miler. I've been focused on Burning Man prep, the Burning Man 50k (yep, I'm the RD), and decompression. And suddenly, crap, I'm running 100 miles tomorrow.

I'm nervous as hell. It's going to be 96. But I'm ready. Coconut waters. Two water bottles. I'm ready. I'm going to kick ass. And if I don't run as fast, I'm still going to kick ass. Because I'm giving it my all, my 100%, and I'm going to run my heart out in beautiful California hills. I'm trying not to pay attention to the elevation gain and going to pay attention to the fun gain. The excitement gain. People, I get to eat a ridiculous amount of gels, those honey stinger waffle thingies (oh, yummers!), coconut water, and whatever else are at the aid stations - M&Ms, pretzels, cookies, grilled cheese, watermelon, pickles, potato chips, and yes, people, I mean all at once. I cannot wait. It's like you're running 100 miles in an all-you-can-eat buffet. At my first ultra, I told my friends, "This is what my wedding banquet will be like." I don't know if Grandma Ann would be down with eating chips someone just ate with hands they blew their nose into, but people, this is something only an ultrarunner can understand.

Yeah, we're that crazy.

Wish me luck!

Music in my ears...

It was the last night I was in Belize. I was getting ready in my cabana, glitter, eyeliner, miniskirt, sandals. I was getting ready for a night I didn't know that I would meet an asthmatic who was friends with a billionaire, and I could request this song all night long because of the billionaire. 

And then there was the night before the Dances with Dirt 50 Miler. Alone in my hotel room, sad and thinking of my Papa, who I had last seen a year before, I listened to this song to motivate me to run when I just wanted to hold someone who had died.

And tonight, getting ready for the Rio del Lago 100 Miler, I listen to this.

Rites of Passage: Burning Man 2011

"You live a lifetime in a week..."

You do. And a lot more.

Burning Man...

People break up. They fall in love. They shed old hangups and issues. They discover new passions. There's art, there's experimentation, there's do-what-you-want. There's fun clothes, amazing music, sharing, kindness, caring, freedom, openness, experimentation. You can't describe/define it - you just have to go there to experience it.

This year, I did:

Sacred Temple

Dildo fencing...of course!

Burning Man 50k!

Motherhood

Unholy matrimony

Librarian Cocktail Party

Sunrise

We all live in a yellow submarine...by a temple on the playa...

Are you there, God? It's me, Cherie.

Hooping bliss..

• Danced on the speakers at Distrikt
•  Rode some amazing art cars, like a moving spaceship, a blacklight car, a Michael Jackson car, a bridge car, a yellow submarine, a giant turtle, a bluegrass bar art car.
• Dissected stuffed animals
• Got married to my best friend by Elvis
• Drank lots and lots and lots of mojitos at my favourite camp, DeMentha
• Rode my hot pink fake fur bike across Black Rock City, stopping randomly at camps that looked fun, pieces of art to investigate, drinks to be had
• Ran the 50k ultramarathon that I organized
• Hosted the 4th annual librarian cocktail party
• Dildo fenced - and WON two matches
• Met a lot of amazing people, saw a lot of art, spent time with wonderful people....it's the kind of place you fall in love even harder...with the world, with yourself, with your partner....rethink everything and reaffirm what it is life is truly about...