Upcoming Races!

I'm really excited about some of my upcoming races....

• Mahlon Mayhem 100k - August 14
• Burning Man 50k - September 1st (I'm also the RD for it, so sign up!)
• Virgil Crest 50 Miler - September 25
• Javelina Jundred - October 23-24
• NYC Marathon - November 7
• Fuego y Agua 100k - December 13

Next Next Next

Just got off the phone with Johnny. We were talking about how our lives have changed so much since the last Burn (we measure time in terms of Burning Man), and how much we've both grown separately. I think back to last summer - unhappy, in a complicated and noncommunicative relationship, and I realize how much better off I am alone.

Thus, a song I can't stop singing:

Bad or good, misunderstood
Inside we're all the same
Time will fly by, your love may lie to you
Get on up and try again

Be colour blind, not narrow minded
Playing silly games
The time has come to unify
And live in peace again

There are times in my life
When I wish the world was a better place
No more war and no more pain
No more suffering and no more hate

When we could all reach for the stars
Nothing to stand in our way
Forward, onward, upward
Together

Music is the key, together we are strong
And nothing is impossible
If you see the beauty that's in everyone
Music mends and heals all broken hearts

Life's a lonesome journey if
We try it on our own
It's better to move together
Than to try and walk alone

Concerned, be wary of the dangers
Out there in the night
Step out of the darkness people
And come into the light

There are times in my life
When I wish the world was a better place
No more war and no more pain
No more suffering and no more hate

When we could all reach for the stars
Nothing to stand in our way
Forward, onward, upward
Together

Music is... music is the... music... music is the key

Vermont 100 Race Report - 2010!

My goal heading into the Vermont 100 Miler this year was to not have a repeat of last year's performance, and to buckle! I DID IT!

I had an excellent crew this year - Matt, who runs with my running club. He's a fast marathoner and has never run an ultra, but he crewed Nelson, Gisel and I at the Bear Mountain 50 Miler last year. (The above picture is of me and Matt, before the start. Matt paced me from Camp Ten Bear at Mile 70 to Bill's Barn at 88, and he also paced from 95 to 97. After the race, Matt told me he wants to do the Vermont 100. I told him I'd pace him. I'm so excited he's caught the ultramarathon bug.)

Deirdre, a 2:41 marathoner, was also crewing me, and she paced me miles 88-100. She ran the Caumsett 50k in an incredible time, and if she focused on ultramarathons, I know she'd be up there with some of the top women, even winning races.  Both of them were incredibly helpful and motivational. They applied sunscreen, fed me fudgy brownies (and helped me wipe off the chocolate all over my face afterwards), wiped my feet of dirt, ignored me as I peed practically next to them, encouraged me to eat, pushed me to run faster. Having an excellent crew was super helpful in pushing me towards my goal time.

The race started at 4 a.m. Early starts are tough and I had, er, trouble going to the bathroom. I only slept 3.5 hours, and was super nervous. I didn't want a repeat of last year, and didn't feel as strong as I could. I was burned out/overtrained in April, had surgery and two forced weeks off in May, and have had trouble mentally and physically motivating myself to do as many long and tough runs as I really needed. All these thoughts fluttered through my head at the starting line as Deirdre and Matt pumped me up.

I met a lot of ultrarunners from the Ultra List, who recognized me from my description, including the John "Non-Sherpa" Lacroix and Alan Geraldi.

I felt strong as I went out in the beginning. I forgot about all the trails (single and double track) early on, and yes, even some hills. Wait, why are there so many steep hills? I thought this was rolling hills. Apparently, my memory blocked so much of the pain and I need to remember to re-read this blog posting before I do the Vermont 100 Miler again - which I will. I didn't have a cheap flashlight because I forgot. Last year I never got my extra headlamp back, and didn't remember it being so dark. Well, it was. Next year, I'm bringing a cheap flashlight and leaving it at the first aid station.

I met a nice guy who worked for Deloitte, where I was once a junior librarian. We chatted for a while, and I ran with him on and off a few times. I felt the pace was a little tough, but I knew I could handle it. I don't push myself enough and I need to. I ran with a lot of different people at this point, having all sorts of interesting casual conversations. It was nice to get to know so many different runners, and best of all, hear their stories of other races I should do.

It got hot quickly. I filled my water bottle at each aid station. Knowing what I should drink, I kept to just under one bottle between each aid station. That way, I wasn't overhydrating. I also enjoyed the wonderful feeling of squirting water on the back of my neck.

In the meadows early on, a la Sound of Music, I forgot about the amazing views, the hills...wow, this was a wonderful race.

In between South Pomfret and Pretty House, my stomach began hurting a lot. I tried eating gels and ended up squeezing a half a Strawberry Banana Gu out, which is my favourite gel. At Pretty House, Deirdre was there with a huge amazing smile! She gave me a Zico coconut water - and it was amazing. It really helped me feel better. I grabbed more Power Gel Blasts, changed my shirt (it was soaked with sweat already - some people started out with long sleeved shirts, which was crazy!), and ran off. She told me I was doing great with time.

I had my times taped onto my water bottle, but I taped them on poorly and I ended up ripping them off as I shoved my bottle in and out of my pack. I recommend doing this very neatly and well - I did this with Umstead and it really worked out.

My stomach felt a lot better. The coconut water really settled it. I picked up the pace a lot. I drank water, chatted with new people, and had fun. I felt strong and was happy my stomach had recovered.

When I arrived at Stage Road, Deirdre and Matt weren't there; they had to drop Iliana off at the start. I got a volunteer to spray me with sunscreen (I don't want skin cancer getting in the way of my ultrarunning - but seriously, my grandma has recurrent melanoma so I try to be good about sunscreen). I pushed on.

I met a really nice guy, Grant, who was doing the Grand Slam. I know others who have trained for it/done it, but somehow, his casual chattering about it, made me want to do it. We ran together, talking about running in the Bay Area, ultrarunning lifestyles, races, life. We got to the aid station (the one at the top of the hill) and I told him how the year before, I told the two guys I had been running with, Jon and Shane, how this should be on a calendar of pretty New England. He agreed. 

I somehow lost a little bag of Endurolytes and he gave me some S-caps and told me I should switch over - apparently, S-Caps have a lot more sodium than endurolytes. (I did notice at my best 50miler I took exclusively S-caps and felt great....) We enjoyed amazing popsicles, hosed ourselves down, had some random guy hose us down...and then headed into "Agony."

I don't remember "Agony." I must have a terrible memory. This section was awful. Steep hills. Roots. Walking. Running and tripping. Up. Pant. Inhaler. Inhaler. Pant. Ow. Sore. Slow. Trip. Run. Conversation doesn't distract enough. Keep pushing.

It was lovely to finish "Agony."

Grant and I probably ran together for nearly 20 miles but my stomach started hurting again. I let him go ahead, and when I got to the next aid station, I paused to get ginger ale on ice, clutch my stomach. I left the aid station with the cup of iced ginger ale and walked for a little bit, sipping the drink. It sucked because I was walking this flat part across a meadow, but I just could not run. My stomach hurt too much.

Eventually, I felt well enough to run. I began running, and pushed myself to make up for lost time. I chatted with Norm, and with random ultrarunners.

I got to Camp Ten Bear, and Deirdre and Matt were amazingly positive. "You're ahead of your pace, you're doing wonderful." Matt sprayed sunscreen on me; I was just wearing a sports bra and running skirt at this point. It was too hot to wear anything else. They bought me an amazing fudge brownie and I chowed down. Yum. I drank another coconut water. I changed my socks and Matt insisted upon wiping the dirt from my feet - nicest friend ever. Best of all, I lost one pound - excellent for a day in the upper 80s! (Last year I had gained 5 pounds between Camp Ten Bear 1 & 2, and a lot of people usually lose weight with dehydration.)

I left Ten Bear feeling good. I ran with different people. It was sunny, it was hot, but I felt good. I enjoyed the scenery, chatting with strangers who became friends. I thought about how my life had changed since last year, how much I loved the sport of ultrarunning.

At Tracer Brook, Deirdre was there again with Matt, about to win most cheerful crew of the year award. They gave me more Power Gel Blasts, and I didn't think I'd see her until Camp Ten Bear, but she told me she'd be at Margaritaville. Matt would need to rest before running.

I pushed it. I felt strong. I ran as fast as I could. I never ran so many of the hills. When I had to walk, my pace kept slogging slow (despite trying to "walk with a purpose" like another ultrarunner told me at last March's Umstead 100 Miler), so whenever there was a "shallow" hill, I ran it. I passed a lot of people.

At every aid station, I asked for my bottle to be filled to the top with ice and then have water added. By the time I'd get to the next aid station, the ice would all be melted, and the water approaching lukewarm.

At Margaritaville, I chatted with the friendly, amazing volunteer, ate two chocolate chip cookies (and took one for the road; I wish I had taken more later on!). I gave Deirdre another hug, and drank another coconut water on ice.

 

About 50 meters after I left the aid station, my stomach went south. I headed behind the nearest tree. I began walking for a bit, and then slowly running. For almost a mile after I left the aid station, I felt awful.

And then I felt amazing. Hill? Ha. I'll run up you. Downhill - I'm speeding down. I felt so great, I ran so amazingly fast.

The next aid station had Capri Sun, Wild Cherry Flavour. It was amazing and so delicious and I think that should be a standard ultrarunning drink (along with coconut water!). Yum. 

I passed a bunch of people. Feeling great, I even started singing. I'm embarrassed, but it was a Pink song that dominated my run ("So What?") along with a Sarah McLeod song ("He Doesn't Love You"). I'm sure the runners I passed thought I was insane.

When I got to Camp Ten Bear, it was VERY unlike the year before (when it had been dark). Deirdre was shocked I came back so quickly ("You were so fast!") and Matt had just woken up. I drank another coconut water on ice (I drank a total of seven during the race, and they REALLY helped. They settled my stomach, gave me electrolytes, did not make my stomach feel "sloshy" like water or Heed does.), told them how my stomach had been hurting. 

I completely changed my outfit, grabbing a long-sleeved tshirt I never wore (but that helped with the awful chafing my fuel belt was giving me). My weight was stable with just one pound having been lost. I strapped on my head lamp, which I didn't really need until I almost got to West Winds.

I ate a bit of a grilled cheese sandwich. I grabbed more sports beans and Power Gel blasts, and pretzels. The race I mostly consumed just these items (and animal crackers, with the occasional random other thing). Matt and I took off.

Matt was a great pacer. He was super motivational, pushed me at times when I didn't want to be pushed, and was really genuinely enjoying himself. "This is so cool. How beautiful!" He identified trees, birds singing, owls. I told him stories from the race, dating stories, stuff about my life. He told me funny stories as well, including Boy Scout Camp stories. 

At West Winds/Spirit of 77, Deirdre was there with tons of energy. When we ran up to the aid station, they had white paper bags with candles in them. The aid station was decorated with fun red, white and blue lights and decor. I ate some animal crackers, drank half of a 5-hour energy shot, and we took off.

"My stomach hurts..."

Again, we did some walking. Matt entertained me with stories. At one point, we stopped to walk for a minute and Matt was like, "Let's run. It's a downhill." 

I replied, "My stomach hurts. I can't." 

"No, it's a downhill. Let's run." 

"NO! My stomach hurts. I CANNOT RUN!"

Matt pushed me so much. At one point, he simply said, "Buckle," and I pushed faster.

At one of the unmanned aid stations, Matt accidentally got me lemon-lime Heed. I only drink water WHILE running, and he ran over a quarter mile back to the aid station to get me water. Amazing.

Mile 88. Finally. I was out of it. I wasn't consuming enough calories because my stomach hurt, but again, I only lost 1 pound. I drank my another coconut water on ice. Matt wanted to continue on, but there was confusion about the car. It was agreed he'd meet us at 95.

Deirdre was super cheerful. We exchanged all sorts of stories, and hit some pretty tricky trails. At one point, we had to stop and wait for this woman and her horse to climb some stone wall, and the horse was really freaked out.

We saw beautiful stars. There was heat lightning in the distance which miraculously, never came close enough to us. 

I began hallucinating a little bit. I saw this big brown-and-white house that was only trees. I saw a deer. I saw a weird-looking man with a beard, lying down, hugging a tree. I saw a few other random things. It was nothing too crazy.

My stomach kept hurting on and off. Somehow, the Power Gel Blasts Matt and Deirdre packed for me didn't make it into my pockets...or they fell out. I kept being like, "But I wanted them! That's what I want to eat!" Deirdre tried to rationalize with me, "But eat something else. You don't have them. Have your jelly beans." 

was a little irrational - no, very irrational, and she was very patient.

At Mile 95, we met Matt. He started asking me what I wanted, and I said, "We gotta leave! NOW! WE ONLY HAVE AN HOUR AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES!" The previous year, that is what it had taken me to get to the finish from Polly's. I needed to run faster to get sub-24 hours, which is what I wanted more than anything else. They tried to calm me down, but I was insane. "I have to make it. I need to. I can't not make it!"

Matt gave me coconut water on ice, and I walked fast while drinking it. "More!" He looked confused and I grabbed it out of his hand. "I wanted more! Faster!" I was a little insane at this point. I chugged the coconut water, chewed on some ice and tossed the rest of the ice on the ground, and ran with the container and cup in my bra. Matt looked confused but didn't take offense.

We pushed it as fast as I possibly could, and Deirdre commented on how tricky some of the final trails were. "That's mean!" 

I felt awful. Matt had ran back to the car around Mile 97 so he'd be there at the finish. "Tell me a story. Distract me. Tell me a story!" I asked Deirdre. 

She couldn't think. "Uh...a minute...uhh...." 

"A story!" 

"I'm trying to think...I'm sorry!" 

"What did you do for your birthday?"

And that is how we discussed what Deirdre did for her birthday. 

I cannot begin to thank Matt and Deirdre enough for all they did for me. They were wonderful.

I pushed on, passing people. I'd think, "Buckle," and pick up the pace, even if we were on a hill.

And the one mile sign...and then the half mile sign....

And the finish. Victory was so sweet. Sub-24 hours! I raised my hands, I was so grateful and so happy. I was screaming, hugging, so full of joy and happiness. 

23:35:55!!!!!!!

 

I had worked so hard, wanted it so bad, and completed it. Iliana (who ran 40miles of the 100k) was now volunteering and put a medal around my neck. Tom took a photo of me for his "Before and After" photo project. I began exchanging stories with the other runners and volunteers. 

45% of the runners dropped out. It was in the upper 80s, humid. Some aid stations (the unmanned ones) were out of water/running out; many lacked ice. The heat messed with a lot of people's stomachs.

I think a few things pushed me to get a PR for this course of 5.5 hours:

Coconut Water

Matt & Deirdre's amazing help

My desire for revenge - I wanted to prove myself on this course!

The helpfulness of other runners - I lost my electrolyte pills twice and had strangers help me

The amazing, friendly volunteers

The beautiful scenery

Changing into shoes a half size bigger at Mile 70

Good songs in my head

Good cookies at Margaritaville and that brownie at Camp Ten Bear the first time

Tums

Lifesaver Mints

On the course:

Very well-marked

They weigh you the day before, at Mile 47.2, 70, 88 

The food at the aid stations is pretty decent - watermelon, chips (no pretzels!), m&ms, potatoes, bananas, oranges, plus some aid stations have homemade cookies (I LOVE Margaritaville), grilled cheese, burgers, sandwiches, more.

Nice volunteers

Great scenery

Hilly

Not too many technical trails

Lots of drop bags

Lots of aid stations

I'll be back for more. In fact, if I get into Western States 100 Miler next year, well, I think I'll have to sign up for the Grand Slam.

Kaleidescope

Because running isn't the only thing I do. Sometimes I go to parties. Parties where we take the ferry to Governor's Island dressed in a monochromatic theme, or as a rainbow. Parties where we dance on the island, and then journey around in parade format in a tunnel, a ferry, and take the 1 train up to Christopher Street. Parties where we take over the street, giving hugs and cupcakes and candy. Parties where we hoop and dance and drum on the pier on the Hudson. Parties where we take the train up to 72nd St and dance to a sound system on the back of a bike in front of the Museum of Natural History. Parties where we take the 1 train to 125th, then the A all the way up to 190th St, and then to Fort Tryon Park. Parties where there is hooping with fire and fire spinning and fire poi and views of the GWB and strangers exchanging hugs, sips of delicious liquor, grapes, kisses, drums...Because getting at the essence of humanity is at my very core as much as running is.

Packing List for Vermont 100!

• 3 sports bras
• 3 tank tops
• 3 running skirts
• 3 pairs of underwear
• 6 pairs of socks
• 2 sneakers
• rain jacket
• thin long-sleeved shirt
• warmer running shirt
• two visors
• 2-3 pairs of gloves
• Sunscreen (spray on – give to crew)
• baby wipes
• body glide (add extra sample backs to various drop bags)
• pack of tissues
• foradil (asthma medicine)
• albuertol (asthma medicine)
• 20 gels (though I never eat this many)
• 5 sports chews (power gel strawberry blasts)
• 4 sports beans
• 30 endurolytes
• gaiters
• velcro for gaiters
• Hydration belt
• 2 water bottles
• 2 5-hour energy shot (one for drop bag at Mile 70, another for Mile 76 or 88)
• Ziploc bags
• sunglasses
• headlamps (2)
• extra batteries
• Advil
• Imodium
• ginger candies
• for post race: sandals, fleece socks, comfy pants, warm hoodie, clean undies, t-shirt, flip flops
• Marker & tape & Post-it notes for Drop Bags
• 8 Bags for Drop Bags

 

To buy:

·         Animal crackers

·         Gummi Bears

·         Snickers

·         Pretzels

Can't Stop Listening to this Song

It's great background music while I pack my drop bags for the Vermont 100...

Vermont 100 Interview!

Sherpa John interviewed me on his blog about the Vermont 100 - check it out!

Tapering Down...

I'm getting more and more excited about the Vermont 100....just a week and a half to go until I run 100 miles in the beautiful hills of Vermont. I know when I'm in the midst of it, I'm going to think, "I was psyched to run this?" 100 miles is SO full of ups and downs, pain, insanity, tears, joy, sweat, aches, and more - but I love how it ultimately gets at WHO you are.

I cannot wait.

Today was my last weight lifting session. I've been cutting down my mileage, trying to rest more. I'm eating a lot of veggies and healthy foods (I normally do, but less sweets than usual), drinking lots of water, less alcohol, enjoying life. The Vermont 100 will be a blast and I hope to get that feeling - you know, the one of absolute freedom when I'm out on my run.

100 Milers as a Sedative? Love It!

“I thought if you could run one hundred miles, you’d be in this Zen state. You’d be the fucking Buddha, bringing peace and a smile to the world. It didn’t work in my case – I’m the same old punk-ass as before, but there’s always that hope that it will turn you into the person you want to be, a better, more peaceful person."

~Jenn Shelton from the book Born to Run

Western States - The Final Mile of Geoff Roes (2010 Winner)

Just watching this gave me shivers!

Mermaid Parade Photos

As usual, the Mermaid Parade was a mixture of superfun, crowds, mermaids, sea creatures, and LOTS of glitter. Rachelle and I spent the day down at Coney Island, and I went to a fantastic warehouse party in the evening. It's times like these that I'm ecstatic I live in NYC.

Run at the Gunks

I was trying to rearrange all these photos and put captions but Blogger was being stupid. These are photos of a terrific trail run I had last Sunday. Ray and I drove up and met Jeff (who provided the maps and wonderful directions) and Crista (who ran with us the first 4 miles before she smartly backed off - the girl needs to take it easy right now!). I was so bummed that it was so misty and foggy (I kept telling Ray, "This is a spot with the most amazing view." And he was like, "Yeah yeah, I hear that again.") and it rained on  and off but we still got a solid 34 miles in. The trails were beautiful, muddy and even wet (notice a few photos of Jeff and I standing in the water). There's something so special about trail running - most of the times, it was just running and the trails, step, step, step, breathe, view, dirt, chipmunk, trail, gorgeousness. Ray and I discovered an early-blooming blueberry patch and snacked on them (yum!) and it was great to bond with a friend in a new way. Ray got to serve as my advice columnist, listening to love problems and he gave great advice. Of course! I always find the older (well, Ray's only 9 years older) ultrarunning men have great advice. Like Ray K. And random strangers. It's funny how if we were at a party, I doubt I ever would have told him all these things...but when you're ultrarunning, all the rules go out the door.

Standing in water

Why I Do What I Do, Who I Am

I've been stumbling, but feel like I'm happily in the right direction. Right now I'm looking forward to an 8 hour run in beautiful New Paltz, am tired from surfing and being buried in the sand. I could go to the CHERYL parties tonight and dance - but I think I'll head to bed. I could go to The Habitat and chat with my favourite bartenders and have some delicious drinks. I could call up Rachelle and take Polaroid kissing photos with her. I could write, I could dance, I could take my cat on a walk. But I'm headed to sleep.

Remembering who I am is so important. Sometimes, you forget. Like every time I travel, I remember, "Wait. Life is not about cube walls and deadlines for things don't matter and washing your floor until it shines and bitching at people in the laundromat. It's about self-discovery and helping people and learning and sharing." And that's why I love traveling.

Next up, I hope to do a jaunt around Central America at the end of the year. Sometimes I question why I do what I do - and wonder do I need to be doing something else? Is this not fulfilling? I mean, where's my condo and Disneyland vacations? That's not what I want, though. I want Burning Man and hot pink fake fur bikinis and being buried in sand on the beach and drinking too-strong delicious margaritas and closing my eyes but knowing I'm going after what I want.

Traveling in Berlin, I met an incredible Englishman who is always full of insight. Chris emailed me this recently after reading my blog, 

Oh, and I read a couple of your posts ruminating on the greener grass of your sister's picket fence life and the challenges of the fluid parade of your freer city life, the non profit salary et al...and I say that reading your blog, I'm reading about someone who is living a life unencumbered by the old nonsense of conventional expectation. You spend, it would seem, an inordinate proportion of your time doing something that you love dearly; composing the orchestra of your thoughts with eyes on that unwavering horizon, measured by the unimpeachable rhythm of your feet hitting the ground. I am handsomely paid for my prolonged days of misery, writing muscles atrophied, harnessed inextricably to the moribund conveyor belt of the life that pays for picket fences.

So it reaffirms my belief I'm doing the right thing. Chris, thanks, and remember, it's not too late. Come to the U.S., I'll take you to a baseball game and we'll dance until the skyline is blurred. Chase your dreams, whatever they are, always. 

Birthday Ultramarathon!

What better way to celebrate my birthday than to run 56miles? I guess technically I should have done the 50k (31 miles) to celebrate my 31st birthday, but why bother with a 50k when there's a much more fun 56miler!

 

I headed up to the Peaks Ultra race, which was advertised as 50, 54, 53 miles, but I was told by someone it's actually 56. Who cares? It was fun, however many miles. There were really steep hills and giant mudpits and bugs eating my scalp and more mud and some bushwacking and more shoe-sucking mud pits and 14,000 feet of elevation gain/loss and mud. The course is mostly runnable, with some sections requiring walking, and it was absolutely beautiful. And yes, it was fun.

I ran with Phil nearly the entire time. I picked his brain about his run across America in 2008, about Badwater, about his 38 100 milers, and some of the other insane ultras he's done. We talked about hill running (his tip: lean slightly forward, short, light steps on the front of my feet), about chafing, about getting lost in races. Phil struggled with his breathing a lot in the beginning. I felt great most of the race, but after mile 48, I started getting dizzy and getting a little delirious - just slightly. It was kind of fun, actually.

The mud wasn't as bad as it was in years past at Jay, but it was pretty gross. Our shoes got heavy and stupid me forgot my gaiters so I had to remove my shoes and socks to dump and scrape mud out a few times. When I changed my socks at mile 38 to clean, dry socks, I felt wonderful.

The organizer, Andy, was super friendly and the aid station volunteers were great. At one aid station, Iliana had told them it was my birthday, and I came in running to hearing them sing "Happy Birthday." It really was a lovely birthday. I didn't think about wrinkles or my future or getting old, but instead thought about, "Can't wait to get to the next aid station for some good food," or, "I'm almost out of water. Should I fill up in this creek and risk giardia?" (I didn't, but Phil did.) 

It was very humid and poured the first two hours. The weather cleared up the rest of the day, though the puddles and occasional rumbling of thunder reminded us of what else was out there.

There were a lot of switchback sections, including "The Labyrinth" which was almost completely dark - full of trees and crazy switchbacks.

After we finished, showered, and ate, we sat under the stars by the campfire, waiting for the final runner. Everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to me again and Iliana and Phil got me a pink cake. Yay!

The final runner had a weak headlamp and got extremely lost. He decided to go to sleep on the trail, and after a very thorough search, he was eventually found, around 2am. Finally, relief.

Today - little pain. My shins ache a tad, and the blister under a callous on my pink toe hurts - but I'm fine. I can't wait to do it again! 

Miguel Hernandez Poem

Vientos del pueblo me llevan

Vientos del pueblo me arrastran 

Me esparcen mi corazon

Y me aventan la garganta 

People's breaths, like wind, sweep me along

They scatter my heart, 

They fill my throat with voices

--Miguel Hernandez

I don't need distractions to do what I love

I don't need distractions to do what I love. On my commute, I distract myself from the unpleasant tedium by reading. When I'm washing dishes, I blast KRS-ONE or listen to NPR. When I run, I don't want to distract myself from what I love. Even in 100 mile ultramarathons, I still enjoy being fully aware.

I don't listen to music.

I like to be in the present moment. I loved this perspective from Tony Krupicka,

I’m really comfortable being in my own head space. I don’t know. It’s funny, because I worked as a lifeguard for five years during part of high school and college and it’s the same sort of thing. You are sitting on a chair for literally eight hours at a time, where you get a little five-minute break every now and then. You are just up there with your thoughts. It’s the same thing with running. I think a lot of people have to have music on or watch TV or be on the computer. They have to be stimulated somehow by a screen or audio and it’s really nice. When I’m injured I really miss having that time each day, where I can let everything clear out and be able to think for a while. I’m trying to think about what I was thinking about today. For a lot of the time you are thinking about nothing. You are just cruising down the trail. You are really in the moment. That sounds so Zen and cliché and New Age, but that is kind of the point: it’s a form of meditation. But there are other times that I think about races and how I want the race to go. You know, basic visualization. That happens a lot, actually. But it’s not like something I do consciously. I definitely have those times where I can write a blog post in my head, but be so frustrated when I get home. Things were flowing so well and then you get home and you can’t even remember how you were starting it. But I never get bored—put it that way.

Next Race (a.k.a. because 50 miles isn't enough for me)

Because I think an ultramarathon will make my birthday a blast! (And yes, I'm packing homemade chocolate chip walnut cookies in the drop bags!)

Leadville 100 Mile Ultramarathon

Leadville.

Just the name itself has the ability to instill fear and admiration in any ultrarunner, and many others as well. I admit I am very frightened of it...but kind of want to do it at the same time. I started going to as Pema Chodron advises on, the places that scare me.

Why is Leadville so scary? The race starts at 9,200 feet, and reaches a high point of 12,600 feet at Hope Pass. (I tell myself I can handle it - I visited V who used to live at 9,000 feet in Nederland and I was okay there. I even went running (getting lost usually in the woods) and didn't have trouble. I lived in Boulder for two years...but the thin air did kick my asthmatic butt from time to time.) It looks so tough..it has an insanely high drop-out rate. 

Iliana planted the seed in my head and keeps nagging me...and I admit I want to run the Leadville 100 Miler, maybe even this year. I don't know if I'm ready, but Iliana sent me a guide on how to run Leadville in less than the cutoff (which is a real killer at just 30 hours). Then there's also the financial implications; supporting my ex last year really drained my bank account, along with ultrarunning (not to mention the fact that I work at a nonprofit). I may need to take on some very unusual methods of raising funds for Leadville.

But I still have the taste in my mouth...I have terrible willpower (which is why I have trouble keeping chocolate in my house for long) and when I want to do something, I usually do it.


I haven't made any decisions yet, but it will be a little logistically confusing. (Burning Man is the following week and I can't afford to be flying back and forth so I might try to stay in CO and go to BM straight from there...). I'm not sure what shape I'll be in (My doctor hasn't even seen me to give me the okay on running yet!), especially with running the Vermont 100 Miler the week before. But the idea keeps circulating...and circulating....

I know I've posted it before, but I'm still dreaming...

Long Slow Road to Recovery

Right now, I'm trying to make patience my mantra but it's hard. It's hard when all I want to do is run, run, run! I guess this recovery is teaching me patience. I have not run yet, which is a miracle. I'm mostly feeling in no pain, though certain movements do cause pain (and whenever someone (inc. my cat) bumps into my incisions, which seems to happen way too often). The rest of this week I plan on resting, sleeping, and taking walks when I feel up to it. I hope to have a smooth recovery to running.

I've had a pretty crazy year. Thinking back to a year ago, my life was completely different. I went from living with someone who I was going to spend my life with to being completely stepped on by them and being single. I went from feeling healthy to having surgery that reshaped my confidence in my health (and has prevented me from running for at least 2 weeks!). I went from feeling like I understood the world and my future...to not knowing what comes next.

I don't know where I'm going. Maybe I'll be single my whole life, just running lots, working, traveling. Maybe I'll fall in love with someone I meet buying milk tomorrow. Maybe I'll quit my job and become a dancer on a cruise ship. Maybe none of these things will happen, and maybe all of them will. I don't know. I just know I have to not plan so much and be ready to welcome anything that comes my way with open arms.

Still, I can plan and dream. Right now, I'm planning on upping my training once my doctor approves. I hope to start training twice a day, doing a lot of commuting on my feet. I hope to go sub-24 at Vermont. I want to do Leadville 100 Miler. I want to do the Sri Chinmony 6 day race in Flushing. I want to get my book published. I want to see my grandfather live to his 91st birthday. I want to help my sister run her first marathon. I want to travel around Central America. I want to dye my hair pink, again. I want to get another piercing in my ear. I want to surf better.


And I don't want to just want - I want to do these things. And I will.

Why Do You Run?

Fantastic video, found on Herb's blog.

Do You Know Where Your Limits Are?

Right now, I'm taking things very easy, recovering from surgery. I'm out of work another two weeks, and I don't think I'll be running too soon. I went for a walk today, which was successful in that I didn't pass out, but I am pretty tired from that. I'll be heading to bed pretty soon (around 8:30pm). Getting back to normal is going to be a slow process and I'm trying to be smart. My doctor's appointment is next week and I hope the 24th to be the magical date upon all is normal.

My mother got very upset with me before. "You don't know when to stop. You worry me..." My painful performance at Miwok 100k worried the hell out of her. To recap, my shins hurt, my feet were swollen with blisters, my asthma was bothering me, and I was terribly dehydrated. I was crying much of the last 12.5 miles. I was so proud of myself that I didn't quit.

"I want you to promise me that you know when to quit." I knew none of those things were causing permanent damage, just temporary misery. The misery wasn't so overwhelming, and I knew once I stopped I would feel relief...but how amazing it felt to finish when I was so weak and I had struggled so hard.

Was it smart that I pushed? Do I not know when to stop? How can I stop when I'm constantly pushing? My mother asked me these questions  and I didn't know how to answer. I know how to be strong; how to push; how to keep going and dig deep; how to grin and bear it. Sometimes, digging deep is harder than other times. Miwok was mentally a challenge because of the pain and dehydration...but when should I stop? How do I figure that out?

Surgery

I am recovering right now from surgery. This means no work (yay), no running (boo!), lots of pain (boo!) and lots of painkillers (ugh). I've been napping, forcing myself to eat so I can take more painkillers, drinking lots of tea, and watching movies w/ my dad.

For years, I've had painful periods, heavy & extremely long periods. Starting since I was just 13, I've seen many doctors who never could figure out what was going on; I've had MRIs, ultrasounds, sonograms, blood tests, bed rest, various pills, medicines...no one can figure out what the deal is. After the latest bout of bedrest last November after a bad period, my doctor and I had a really long talk. She consulted an expert doctor, Farr Nezhat, and recommended I see him.

I was really impressed with the thoroughness and knowledge of the doctors at my first appointment. We decided that the way to (hopefully) solve & determine my problems would be to investigate. My doctor for years had been wanting to do a D&C, so that would be part of it. They also would be reconstructing my uterus as I had a septum (which is abnormal), and doing a hysteroscopy and laparoscopy.

So I prepped by getting my full of running - Umstead, followed 3 weeks later by Boston, a week and a half later with Miwok 100k. The surgery means no running until I'm recovered.

I got surgery and everything went remarkably well. I've had some pain and the painkillers have really helped. I was a complete wreck after the surgery, but am able to mostly walk around by myself. I haven't taken any walks yet anywhere far, and am planning on taking things very easy the next few weeks. I can't go back to week for another 2 weeks, so I'm taking it easy, letting myself recover. I'm hoping I can start running then and getting back to normal. Until then, I'm sitting on my parents' couch, watching Mamma Mia and reading books.

Miwok 100k Videos!

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

Mile 46 or so...

Mile 57 or so....

The Miwok 100k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?”

“No, you need to run your race.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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