Wasatch 2018

Wasatch 100 2018 Finish Line
What are we all doing here? How did we get here? Think nat, think. The sky turned from starry sky black to glowing blue- that's where we were, and now we are here?
I'm in pain & numb ?
I'm sitting & throbbing
My skin hurts & I'm still

It's getting to a point that I might be running too many races to have authentic thoughts about the events anymore. I find the write up boring myself, reading the same buzz words over and over...and over again. Climbing, eat, salt, pain, impatience, pacer, finish line, puke, mud, heat, snow...and so it goes. I've run out of fresh ways to describe my races in a way that I only hope you can connect with or at the VERY least chuckle, wonder why?, or at best...think, I want to do that too.

Beaming into the pit, juvenile optimism about the pain.
Brave to the fatigue and naive at once
Lost in a thought about my body,
dissecting every step. Hungry?
No. That doesn't matter, as I know.
The sun is whipping me and I'm standing here
silencing my hate for this moment.

The Wasatch is special, don't let me get this twisted as I complain. I believe it would be special even if I did not live in these mountains, did not play in these mountains, did not leave my life in Baltimore for good when I stepped foot in these mountains...I think it's special for first timers, for 12 timers, for 17 timers, and for runners who were placed in a chair sick, injured, or unable to...anymore.

I've been thinking more about the Wasatch allure than the actual trails lately. There's an electricity. That might be a local charge, but I know how hard this race is. I know how relentless and damn right miserable it can be. I've met people from out of town, and I am so impressed that they are here, many alone without crew or pacers or a familiar face for 100 miles.  Why? Why this race? I can't shed light on anyone but me.
It started with my first Wasatch finish in 2015. I fought harder for that. I slogged Lambs-Brighton with a pacer that had every reason to believe I could not make it. A pacer who wanted to leave me, and in her defense, I can only say, she did not know me well enough to think otherwise. I would go into van gouge color like description of the first Wasatch, but as they say, it's not about what you've done...
The allure, started there. An extremely hard fight and run to the finish in 2015 with my friend. My friend, who in fact, did know me well enough to know, I don't go out unless I'm swinging doing it. (It's an east coast thing;) (muwah). We ran hard and full of fury, smiling. The beginning of the End. An end I wanted more than I could explain. WHY??

Because it's hard. Because it feels impossible, and when you have come this far, glory is in your site or a finish in your pocket, but it's not easy. It's not a gimmie. It's still not yours, until it is.
Gratitude. Humility. Pride. Happiness. And then what?? You chase it. You  freakin' chase it.

So, Wasatch 2018; Ack the details are boring...But, let me try to summarize 35:33 in a paragraph.
I was injured before the start. 5 weeks "essentially " off. I had a hot but good 32 miles to big mountain. I saw my dear friends Cheryl and Jen with a mango juice and Mcdonalds. I handled BigMountain and Alexander well enough. At Lambs were my people for the Wasatch this year- Mark & Betsy. More Mcdonalds, head lamps, poles, & we out. I motored as fast i could which was fast enough to cover those 23 miles of mostly up in 8 hours. One of mt partners in crime, Betsy, scooped me up and out of Brighton, mile 67. I hit a wall leaving Brighton. And, in reflection, impatience and fatigue.  Sun came up and although lovely, I was getting itchy about time. The heat sucked me dry on Friday and I gave all i had in the tank  to get to Brighton in 8 hours. But, I pushed with a consistent whine that my dear friend let slide..cuz, she knows...Bonk fest at mile 84 when it all just got to me and the tears started to flow. Something we should all remember "You're not failing, Nat. You're bonking" The Gospel of Betsy, Blessed it be to GOD. I ate, I got stung by a hornet. 15 miles to go.  I gave in...
After 30 hours, I gave in and accepted all of it and just moved.
Wasatch, will you ever come gently into the soft night? I doubt it.

 

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.

Wasatch 100

10 weeks in to training for the Wasatch 100. i Started from low fitness  and lost endurance levels given an injury. But , this isn't about that, it's about the tears and fear of this endeavour that is 18 weeks away.

18 weeks of anticipating anything is just entirely too far away, but with this over 30 hour mountain run looming in my dreams, and already loathing those dark moments of pain and impatience and fatigue, I wish I had 50 more weeks to anticipate, to train, to cover every part of the course 3 times.

But that's not the case. 

I ran part of the course, the only part I've run before, on Saturday. We came in just under 17 miles, and I was pooped. Pushed and encouraged to run the last bit to Pence Point, I hung my head between my legs and thought my heart might burst through. Was it the altitude or the winter rest still side eyeing me? I dont know and it doenst matter. I watched my friends power hike and run up Alexander pass, and I was pushing hard! But, as I looked up periodically they were getting further and farther away from me. 

I was able to run relatively fast on a flat rail trail back to the car, not sure I would have without my running girls behind pushing me, but nonetheless...

Im terrified of this race, and spent a good part of my day reading race reports and descriptions of the gnarly climbs nad rigourous downhill, the dark night in the mountains, only to be brought here to put it all down here and outta my head.

I want to run and finish the Wastach 100. I don't want to DNF, miss cut offs, or die.

Let's see how it goes on
 9/11/2015