Wasatch and everything after

It's been 2 weeks and 3 days since I finished Wasatch.  I wrote my last blog entry in a bit of a hasty high, and have had ample time to reflect on that so hard to depict weekend. I've read every race report posted to facebook; some technical blurbs about nutrition and hydration, pack choices, and brand dropping. I've read disappointed runners blogs who had big problems and had to end their journey early- those people I can feel through the screen.  I've even read a few disappointed runners blogs who actually finished in top 10 - those people I can't relate to.  That is a field I will never be in, in these extremely tough mountain races I choose to do. But, a struggle nonetheless when competition and winning is what drives you. 

I won't go into detail about fuel and hydration, as it really is boring. And, as I continue to learn, it's a personal science experiment over many training runs and races.  Races always have super highs and lows, for me. Which isn't surprising given my personality which parallels that good and bad, happy and sad, manic bursts of heaven, and teary smacks of grief.  

I understand why race reports are so long. You start from the beginning, or even before- months before the start line even. I'll start with the night before. I poured a glass of wine and sat in the living room with my husband. It was 9:00pm. Cheryl would text me "here" from her car idling out front in 6 1/2 hours. My stomach was so sick with jitters, I couldn't eat dinner.  I couldn't drink that wine I poured, but I could cry. And, I did. My lips just started to quiver and I cupped my face in my hands and cried.  What's wrong, Nat? "I'm pretty scared, this is going to be really, really hard" Yeah, it is. 

I tried to sleep- not a wink. My nerves had me shaking and my heart beat skyrocketed for hours. The only service I did to myself was drink water in the dark as I rolled from back to belly over, and over, and over, again. I just wanted the race to start- I just wanted the anticipation of the Wasatch 100 to end, and get on with it. And , then it did.

Many race reports, including my previous, talked about the heat. It was hot. Dry, dusty, and then it got hotter. My contacts were covered in a film of dust, and my vision blurred from mile 15 -75 when I finally reached Brighton- 28 hours from the start line,where I took them out and cleaned them with saline. I could finally see clearly after 60 miles.

Frankly- although slow. The climbs did not overwhelm me. And, it's the pat on the back Ill give myself. Any chance I could , I climbed. I slugged out the Speedgoat 50k, which has some of the most challenging climbs I've ever done in a race where your legs are trashed. I didn't find any of the climbs to be too much. So- yay me, I trained for the tough stuff. The fatigue surprised me worst of all. Even with newborns in the past who didn't sleep and were breastfed and I didn't know what day it was or if it were morning or night. I've never been so tired that I fell asleep standing up. That was unexpected- not the fatigue itself, but the INTENSE fatigue.

 The thing that got me through the Wasatch 100 was positive people and just a few encouraging words.  You help the runner, you push the runner, you tell her she looks great when she looks like shit, you do all that even if you don't think she has a chance in hell; because we are fighters- and I'd rather go out swinging in a sleepy stupor than say let's call it a day.

It's easy to say keep going, one foot in front of the other, eat, drink, move. But, it's hard to do, your body and mind don't always agree. You have to fight and dissect, destroy, burn your limits and fear. Easy to say, and not so easy to always do. The things that kept me from going over the edge and dropping were the people.  The people in my life who were rooting for me, who crewed me, who took off from their jobs and their lives to devote double digit, 24+ hours to me, my family watching the tracking at home,  worried that I wasn't going to make it to the finish in time, which turned out to be  my fastest 25 miles of the day. My friends who have taught me so much about mountain running and ultra running and myself. I couldn't stop, I couldn't call it quits, no matter how many times it crossed my mind. All that anticipation that kept me up Thursday night was fear and accountability, it was the fear of not being able to deliver what my family, myself, my friends were waiting for, the finish.

Wasatch100 2015
35:49:12
"It was totally like heaven and hell" -me.

I've got some aches, but I'm resting. My Wasatch high is coming to an end and the blues of it all being over have set in this week. I'll certainly put in for Wasatch again. 

WASATCH 100 ChugaChugaChugaChugaChooChoo

This could be one of the longest posts in my life, but I'll try not to bore you or myself with the minuscule details of my go at the Wasatch 100. Well, maybe a few

Weather plays a large part in a race, namely heat. You know what I was missing more than anything Friday at 2:00pm- winter, snow, hail, icy trails, a freezer to stick my head in. ICE and Popsicle at aid stations were like, like, like I don't know ice in the desert- oh, right. It was EXACTLY like having ice in a desert.

The discomfort of running in a furnace is not only not fun, but it takes endurance running to a different level that involves more thinking, which the ability to do such a thing as think oozes out your ears and pores with hydration- or maybe when you confirm your registration for these types of events. It's an all day, every half hour, at least, body check and re-up of something- salt, water, food, sugar, salt, water, tums, sugar, salt, water, I cant eat that GU , Cheryl!, salt, water, food..run?! Shit. No, like I have to shit. can't stop. cut offs, salt, watch, how many miles to Big mountain?! Salt, water, foo-ewww-d. cow bells. sit, re-up, back out.

The sun certainly depleted me faster than usual, and I did my very best to keep my self upright and moving. I did pretty well, I went very slow, as I had no other choice.

Pacers: I had 3 pacers for Wasatch. Nancy 39-53. She had me as I really began to struggle with food. EVERYTHING tasted like vomit and shit. There's just no other way to explain it. Ive said this a few times over the last few training runs- the hardest part of an ultra for me is having to eat.You can't get around it, Ive tried- you will never win that battle- or it wont be pretty if you do. Thank you Nancy for getting small bites in me often.
Pacer 2: Betsy. Betsy got me at Lambs Canyon, late...11:00pm, 17 hours in,  2 hours after my conservative estimation. 53-75, I met the sleepy monster and the mental demon. I know she didn't think I could or should go on.  Shit, I was beginning to doubt my ability. But a man told me, as I was contemplating her making the phone call that I was done, "don't quit, it will get better, keep going". I don't know who you were kind man, but thank you, thank you so much. I was talking nonsense and wobbling off trail. Betsy, Thank you for the poles, and for making me drink and eat your gross Mozzarella and pastrami;) It was a slow march to Brighton, but I just kept going- If I wasn't going to succeed, I was certainly going to go out fighting.. Thank you for the help, the time, the laughs- (although, those were pretty much due to my extraordinary humor that comes with downtrodden pain)-see, how I do that? ;)  It was slow and long, but we got there. 
Pacer 3: My Partner in crime- stuck in traffic from a road marathon! Of all the things to hold her up it was roadies;) We busted it like I was on fresh legs, like I was racing. The climbs hurt, hitting the highest part of the race, 10,400 at Sunset pass. I could feel the energy and oxygen coming back to me as we dropped, dropped, dropped, and then the heat started to suck it out, out, out. But, we were running! 25 miles, we ran! It was awesome. It hurt like hell. At one point , maybe 8 miles from the finish I thought run, it's all going to fucking hurt anyway! . Cheryl was reading me texts from my sister, Go Nat Go! Texts that my dad was following, my family cheering me on from Baltimore,Texts from her husband and my friend, Karl Meltzer, the Speedgoat; gogogogogogo! A text from Scott, my husband a video from my kids, "Push!!!!" There were no low points the last stretch, just determination, focus, and lots of cold water poured on my head and down my shirt, heart stopping cold water that felt so damn good.
THE ROAD- 3/4 of a mile up the black top to Soldier Hollow. Jill was following in the car, "You've got time, but you have to trot!" Me: ok. Then beeping behind me, my husband, my babies! Yelling out the window, just making it to the finish, cheering me on as I gave everything I had to that last bit of running! "Cheryl, what's our time, can I walk?" "we have time, but you can't walk, we can slow down". Me: Ok. Christian, Betsy J's husband, ran up to give us ice, the road was ending, the grass was getting closer! My kids, I reached out and touched Livy's hand, and I ran, I ran in and I finished the Wasatch 100! So many smiling faces and hugs, and I finished the last 25 miles in 7 and  1/2 hours!? How did I do that?? How?? I just did. Why? Because I wanted it so badly. I could see the light when the sun came up Saturday morning, I could see it, and I had such a slow hard night, that after I ate a big breakfast of sausage, hashrowns, and red bull at Brighton I knew I could do it! My stomach was solid, my legs showed up, My pacer and friend made it her job to get me there, and most importantly my heart swelled with desire to get there, feel what it felt like to run, hike, slog, and then run the 100 miles of the infamous Wasatch 100. Deep Breath. Deep Breaths...Sit, Reflect, Cheers, sleeeeeeep.