I walked out of September with sore knees and a real sense of self joy. It doesn't last long enough, but it lasts for awhile. I don't really remember how or why I decided to run 3, 100 mile races in a 7 week span. "The Utah Triple" Perhaps a thing, a very new thing, regardless of it's "thing" or "not a thing" status, it was a thing I did.
Was it that I was turning 40? Was it the turned up spirit and blues of fall running coming to an end when the snow came and stayed last year? Was it the addictive natured voice reminding me just how good it feels to overcome and cross the finish line. The fantastic pleasure of sitting down and being still, finally? The laughable pain of trying to sit on the toilet the next day or the burning itching feet through the first night?
I have a hard time putting it into perspective or understandable terms when I am describing it to others. But, this morning on a lovely dawn patrol run, I didn't have to explain it to my friend, she has the same thoughts and feelings of the distance; as we talked about now what? what next year?
The Ute 100
The Wasatch 100
The Bear 100
...This is the Utah triple (be it a thing or not). I was a little burned out after the Bear. The weather conditions for all 3 races varied. With a 40 hour cut off at the Ute, I had time to sleep for the first time ever in a race #backofthepackproblems. We saw 2 bears. I laid on the trail with my friend and stared at a billion stars and made a joke about 5k's and margaritas. I was sick and sleepy and fell in and out of panic and patience quicker then my turnover. At the Wasatch, it rained and no hornets to be had. I decided I was done over and over again; I just never said it out loud. I was impatient and irritated, and wondered for the first time if I even wanted to be there. I was overwhelmed with friendship that ultimately carried me into day 2, mile 90, and then to the finish. And at the Bear, I was happy and healthy, and smiley, and strong...until I wasn't. Until I was muddy, and cold, and puking, and pooping, and slowed to the pace of a sleeping tortoise until I didn't. Until I saw my friend, my friends, all of them there for us...rounding the corner, seeing the park, shivering in the wettest clothes and the wettest skin I could remember, finishing next to one of my besties.
And then it was done. And, I was burned out but satisfied. And then I was burned out and depressed. Curious if what I think of as an accomplishment is simply...not. Perhaps, I pondered, this is just another way to fuel my highs and ignore my lows for a time. Perhaps, running 100 miles is a way to escape and not necessarily to be present at all. Or, maybe it's both? I don't love every minute of it. There's many miles I DO NOT even like. But, I do believe it's something that has enriched my life and spirituality in humanity. And, I can't deny the benefits and impact the very act of running has had on me.
For now, I am running short and slow. I have been out of the acute recovery phase for many weeks now, but I am enjoying the fall weather and cool mornings, the familiar winter trails, browsing ultra sign up daily for a new exciting event, and reflecting on 2019. To next year...Cheers
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
Ute 100
There have been a few races gone now, since I've sat down to write about the experience. I guess, i do this as a journal for the handful interested and my daughters. One day, this might reveal a lot about me to my small people that give me so much hope and wrinkles at the same time.
The Ute 100.
For weeks maybe months before this race, I had a healthy dose of doubt and a not so healthy dose of desire, or lack their of. I was in a rotten head space about the race and it's logistics. 3 am start, camping the night before, 25 miles to our first drop bag, 3 drop bags in total for 100 miles, 40 hour cut -off, remote, rugged, high, lightning probability, HEAT.
I'm not spoiled, and I do like a challenge, but this was not something I was used to say at Wasatch, the Bear , or Bighorn. If I didn't have my amazing crew, and a vehicle to aid out of, I'm not sure I could have pulled off a finish.
Even with all of the selfless help of my friends, I wasn't sure I could pull off a finish. I won't do a play by play, I won't ask for your attention more than a few minutes. here it goes:
Like mentioned, we started at 3:00am. Jill and I were up a little after 2:00am after a few hours asleep in the back of her truck. We ran then hiked in the dark until the sun came up around 6:30. The first 25 miles were lovely , and relatively easy terrain. After a few steep jaunts, there was lots of easy downhill and then rolling mountain bike trails. The weather on Friday was very bearable. Perhaps the altitude was in fact blessing us with cooler temps in the Ls Salle mountain range.
After mile 25, I got hot and impatient and tired and impatient and sick and tired and a little more tired. The biggest climb of the race came up around mile 33. Mann's Peak that tops out somewhere in the 12,200 ft range. The climb up was a beastly one, but I managed to do quite well here. I shuffled down the scree ridge from the top as fast as I could (fairly slow). Frankly, I was a little nervous up there. I wouldn't generally say I'm scared of exposure, but this was high, narrow, and slippery scree in places. It was windy and threatening to rain, although it never did.
The stress of this climb and getting off the ridge line fatigued me even more. All day i had told myself to just get this climb out of the way, and it will be a piece of cake (LOUD LAUGH OUTLOUD ). This was a mistake as I only mentally prepared to get over the hill so to speak, and then I could get it done. After a long descent off Mann's peak, my eyes were heavy and my patience was thin. In and out of the next aid (mile 42ish) We climbed out and then down and then up again-this service road full of blow downs and debris from a fierce winter, then another dastardly rocky, downhill full of mooing cows near and far. The sun was setting across the sky lighting up what I believe was Castle Valley. Gorgeous- however, the pleasure of the sites was no match for my ultimate bonk of the trek.
I came into Mile 51 broken. Tears, fatigue, hunger, defeat, discouraged, chaffed, sting everywhere, sweaty, then cold, shaking, and foggy. Betsy, Cheryl, Nancy taking my clothes off and putting new ones on, Do you want this? Can you eat that? How about this? Headlamps? Socks? jacket? try this? one more bite of that...Like a pit crew in the Indy 500, but I couldn't see past my sorrow. No one was feeling sorry for me though...I should know better than that. I wasn't coming in for sympathy- I was coming in for aid, and that's what we do best out there for each other.
Ok...Homestretch..ish..eh, not quite. Cheryl and I headed out into the night. Enough ups and downs that I could go into great detail, but to sum up the night; I could barely stay awake. I wanted to melt into the dirt, and did a few times.Laying on the dirt at one point we turned our lights off and I was staring at the magnificent star lit sky "Cheryl, why don't we run 5k's and drink margaritas afterwards?" ..."Because we drink vodka" :) Can't argue with that. So up and out.
I had time at mile 71 to take a nap. This was a run changer for me. I don't usually have this luxury, but with the 40 hour cut off, I had time to be out cold for about 30 minutes, horizontal and warm in the car for almost an hour. I popped up around 6:00am. I ate mashed potatoes and a 5 hour energy shot. Then bam, 6 feet in front of us on the trail out of the aid station, a mama and baby bear. Oh SH!t. With normal brain function I would have possibly pooped my pants, but Betsy, now with me for the duration, cacawed like a bird and flapped her arms like a crazy person. mama ran beside us for a few seconds and then disappeared into the thick.
We rallied from here. We rallied from there. We rallied and I grimaced in pain on the downhill, and tried not to think about the heat that was coming as we descended further and further to the finish line. 5 miles of dirt road, we ran it. I came in just under 37 hours.
The darkest and hardest miles were long and bending. My heart was not in it for hours upon hours. I eventually got to a "place" that was familiar- a balance in the mental chaos. A bite down and move mentality- but not until I could see the end near. Maybe mile 86. From about mile 35-85, i couldn't see it, I didn't want it bad enough. I fought it and that is my demon out there. Patience and fatigue. It suspends me out there too long, and I'd like to get to a calmer state quicker and less dramatic. Let's see what Wasatch brings me in 2 weeks. I do love this shit, but that was a doozy for me.
The Ute 100.
For weeks maybe months before this race, I had a healthy dose of doubt and a not so healthy dose of desire, or lack their of. I was in a rotten head space about the race and it's logistics. 3 am start, camping the night before, 25 miles to our first drop bag, 3 drop bags in total for 100 miles, 40 hour cut -off, remote, rugged, high, lightning probability, HEAT.
I'm not spoiled, and I do like a challenge, but this was not something I was used to say at Wasatch, the Bear , or Bighorn. If I didn't have my amazing crew, and a vehicle to aid out of, I'm not sure I could have pulled off a finish.
Even with all of the selfless help of my friends, I wasn't sure I could pull off a finish. I won't do a play by play, I won't ask for your attention more than a few minutes. here it goes:
Like mentioned, we started at 3:00am. Jill and I were up a little after 2:00am after a few hours asleep in the back of her truck. We ran then hiked in the dark until the sun came up around 6:30. The first 25 miles were lovely , and relatively easy terrain. After a few steep jaunts, there was lots of easy downhill and then rolling mountain bike trails. The weather on Friday was very bearable. Perhaps the altitude was in fact blessing us with cooler temps in the Ls Salle mountain range.
After mile 25, I got hot and impatient and tired and impatient and sick and tired and a little more tired. The biggest climb of the race came up around mile 33. Mann's Peak that tops out somewhere in the 12,200 ft range. The climb up was a beastly one, but I managed to do quite well here. I shuffled down the scree ridge from the top as fast as I could (fairly slow). Frankly, I was a little nervous up there. I wouldn't generally say I'm scared of exposure, but this was high, narrow, and slippery scree in places. It was windy and threatening to rain, although it never did.
The stress of this climb and getting off the ridge line fatigued me even more. All day i had told myself to just get this climb out of the way, and it will be a piece of cake (LOUD LAUGH OUTLOUD ). This was a mistake as I only mentally prepared to get over the hill so to speak, and then I could get it done. After a long descent off Mann's peak, my eyes were heavy and my patience was thin. In and out of the next aid (mile 42ish) We climbed out and then down and then up again-this service road full of blow downs and debris from a fierce winter, then another dastardly rocky, downhill full of mooing cows near and far. The sun was setting across the sky lighting up what I believe was Castle Valley. Gorgeous- however, the pleasure of the sites was no match for my ultimate bonk of the trek.
I came into Mile 51 broken. Tears, fatigue, hunger, defeat, discouraged, chaffed, sting everywhere, sweaty, then cold, shaking, and foggy. Betsy, Cheryl, Nancy taking my clothes off and putting new ones on, Do you want this? Can you eat that? How about this? Headlamps? Socks? jacket? try this? one more bite of that...Like a pit crew in the Indy 500, but I couldn't see past my sorrow. No one was feeling sorry for me though...I should know better than that. I wasn't coming in for sympathy- I was coming in for aid, and that's what we do best out there for each other.
Ok...Homestretch..ish..eh, not quite. Cheryl and I headed out into the night. Enough ups and downs that I could go into great detail, but to sum up the night; I could barely stay awake. I wanted to melt into the dirt, and did a few times.Laying on the dirt at one point we turned our lights off and I was staring at the magnificent star lit sky "Cheryl, why don't we run 5k's and drink margaritas afterwards?" ..."Because we drink vodka" :) Can't argue with that. So up and out.
I had time at mile 71 to take a nap. This was a run changer for me. I don't usually have this luxury, but with the 40 hour cut off, I had time to be out cold for about 30 minutes, horizontal and warm in the car for almost an hour. I popped up around 6:00am. I ate mashed potatoes and a 5 hour energy shot. Then bam, 6 feet in front of us on the trail out of the aid station, a mama and baby bear. Oh SH!t. With normal brain function I would have possibly pooped my pants, but Betsy, now with me for the duration, cacawed like a bird and flapped her arms like a crazy person. mama ran beside us for a few seconds and then disappeared into the thick.
We rallied from here. We rallied from there. We rallied and I grimaced in pain on the downhill, and tried not to think about the heat that was coming as we descended further and further to the finish line. 5 miles of dirt road, we ran it. I came in just under 37 hours.
The darkest and hardest miles were long and bending. My heart was not in it for hours upon hours. I eventually got to a "place" that was familiar- a balance in the mental chaos. A bite down and move mentality- but not until I could see the end near. Maybe mile 86. From about mile 35-85, i couldn't see it, I didn't want it bad enough. I fought it and that is my demon out there. Patience and fatigue. It suspends me out there too long, and I'd like to get to a calmer state quicker and less dramatic. Let's see what Wasatch brings me in 2 weeks. I do love this shit, but that was a doozy for me.
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
a love poem to no one
You’re so beautiful, I could look at you for hours, if I weren’t to aftaid of exploding
Combusting, death of something through the uttermost form
Of living. Living without boundaries or social etiquette,
Or doing the work just for the reward, but every breath of life with each other
Rather the reward. And then the alarm goes off at 5:20am.
I don’t need to know if I’m thankful or saddened. I don’t know if I’m
Experiencing trauma or bliss. I think I’m all of it.
And in the hours that follow-I’m in then mountains, in the snow, in the car pool line.
I’m in the grocery store, the Starbucks, the office... and still I’m almost brought
To tears by a shape of a face that , by all accounts should have forgotten the details of.
she's just gone
Combusting, death of something through the uttermost form
Of living. Living without boundaries or social etiquette,
Or doing the work just for the reward, but every breath of life with each other
Rather the reward. And then the alarm goes off at 5:20am.
I don’t need to know if I’m thankful or saddened. I don’t know if I’m
Experiencing trauma or bliss. I think I’m all of it.
And in the hours that follow-I’m in then mountains, in the snow, in the car pool line.
I’m in the grocery store, the Starbucks, the office... and still I’m almost brought
To tears by a shape of a face that , by all accounts should have forgotten the details of.
she's just gone
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