Speedgoat 50k

I went back to Basics at The Speedgoat. Gels, S-caps, 20oz of water and EFS pro an hour, no watch for mileage, just time of day.

I paid really close attention to eating.

I paid really close attention to running when I could run.

Hiking fast when I should be hiking.

**Staying Cool** (Thank You Eve)

Secretly, I was hoping to break 10 hours.

By mile 20 I was pretty sure I could hit 10:30

And, by mile 28, I was convinced I could PR with under 10:55.

Well, I came in at 11:02, and I was elated. You know why? Because I had a good day. 

And, by the time I was rounding the switchbacks over by Baby Thunder, I was still running. I had been running all day, and taking care of myself, by myself

and I felt good. Shit, I felt great.

Last year's Speedgoat took me 12:14. When I dragged myself down those switchback's last year I was interrupted from walking to puke every couple of minutes. I had been throwing up black for the last 4 hours , at this point last year.

Last year, I wanted nothing more than to leave the minute I finished. And, when I was on the bathroom floor all night throwing up and crying in fatigue and pain

I wanted nothing more than to feel better.

And, when my husband had to pull the clothes off of me and help me sit in the shower; and asked me...Why do you do this to yourself? I wanted nothing more than to  have an answer that made sense, to me. Because, "it's fun" was no longer going to sum it up at this juncture.

I thought about that question a lot. -Like a whole lot. (I could go into great depths why I do this, but only I need to know why. And, in the simplest and fewest of words, it's because it's important to me)
I was reborn after Wasatch with the reason why? WHY? I mean HOW COULD ANYONE NOT!? 

What a Great day Wasatch 100 was, and a great finish after the many challenges that preceeded the last 25 miles

And then 2016 races began, and I found myself back on the bathroom floor, or on the couch with a bowl looking up insta-cares, or on the side of the trail in tears with a raw throat unable to eat or drink or even have an ice cube slowly melt on my tongue without a horrific and painful battle with my stomach. 

I figured that out, by the way..with the help of my friend Jill, whom saw my puke at Antelope Island 50 and said "that's not right"...

Doctor. Endoscopy. Bacteria. Ulcer. Lactose Intolerant.2 week of Antibiotics-8 pills a day. No more dairy.

Stomach-SOLID.

This alone was very encouraging. However after the BOSHO marathon in April, my ankle became sore to the touch. Bone. Ouch. I Took off for close to 5 weeks, where I came out on a rainy Saturday and ran 10 miles pain free. Bryce 100 was only 4 weeks away from that first double digit mile in over a month...

I was leery, but confidant in my mental endurance, but my training had taken a significant lull.  But I felt good head to toe stomach to flow.

I went out to Bryce and finished. It turned into a clock race, and I came in at 38 hours. I was happy to finish, but obviously wish things had gone better. 

So, back to present day. Speedgoat was 3 weeks out from Bryce. And, my last race scheduled for this year. I did a lot early. Moab Red Hot 55k, Antelope Island 50 mile, BoSho Marathon, Scout Mountain 35k, Bryce 100. 

And, last up was my favorite and hardest race ever.

Speedgoat 50k.

I could have come in at 11hrs, but once I knew I was just seconds away from under 11:00 hours at 10:59:55 with the finish in site. I slowed to a walk and pulled out my other bottle. My mouth was cotton, and I had avoided stopping 20 minutes ago for my second bottle cuz I was pushing hard to get under 11:00. Once I knew I'd finish in the 11th hour, I got some water and ran it in. Cornering the service road, my daughters came running towards me.  And, we ran under the Hoka finish arch, and Karl gave me a high five, a Speedgoat Pint glass, an Ultragen recovery drink, and my third Speedgoat 50k medal.

"I think we have a PR", Karl said.  "Nope, 10:55, but that was when the end was all downhill!" I chuckled. I guess it was a PR on the current course, and I was 1 hour and 12minutes  faster than last year. But, as I melted into a chair with a grapefruit beer and a turkey avocado sandwich my husband brought me, time had also melted away. I felt GREAT! I was celebrating after a very hard race, not clawing internally and focusing only on leaving so I could wallow in my pain alone. 

I  hope this is not the last Speedgoat.  But, if so, I am so glad I got to experience such an amazingly difficult race, and finish 3 times. Perhaps, I love this race so much because it's my friend's race. And the truly amazing and inspiring people I have met  are all there; RD'ing, volunteering, marshaling, sweeping,  putting ice bandanas on me, encouraging me, yelling my name as i came in and out of aid stations. Maybe because it's at Snowbird, the place where it all started for me in Utah. Maybe it's because it's one of  the hardest physical challenges I have ever had; and I feel pretty bad ass finishing, regardless of the time. 

I can't tell you how great it felt to go out on races this year on a high note. I' haven't had a great one all year, until Speedgoat. 

Next up: Pacing Betsy at the Wasatch100 

Pacing Cheryl at the Bear 100

Happy Running. Happy, Happy Running.

 

San Juan Solstice 50 DNF- shit.

So, why does this suck? Remember those years when you were not a teenager anymore, but hadn't yet begun to see the shit storm that adulthood can actually rain? Those few years where possibility is taken for granted along with tight skin and eating chili dogs at 2am with zero regret?

That's who I am when I finish an Ultra. The reflection on these insanely hard feats physically warms my skin and I glow for days. Not finishing- well, i felt like shit and like crying, and like defeated with wrinkles and regret for eating birthday cake..my own birthday cake, even!

I DNF'd on Saturday at the San Juan Solstice 50 mile in Lake City, CO. I did not drop, I was pulled for not making the first cut off at Williams creek. Mile 16, roughly- 5:20 in to a mentally prepared 16 hour day- done.

I left with my friends Friday morning to drive to CO. We rented a sweet house a mile form the start/finish. It was a 7.5 hour drive. We pulled into Lake City, checked into the race, went to the pre-race meeting, headed to the house, and packed drop bags, took them back to the armory where all the race shit was happening, enjoyed a fish taco dinner, 2 Sierra Nevada's, and bed.

3:45am the first alarm goes off in the house...mine. Up and prepare for battle. I had only run about 25 miles in the weeks before San Juan. My foot is jacked up- shit just hurts,and I am currently ignoring it. Also, smart. But, I woke up feeling rested, fresh, and pretty excited about the long day ahead of me. I actually had a feeling I was going to do really well.

Given the late snow accumulation, the 7 creek crossings were high, rushing, cold,and a little "like woah" a couple times. We were in thigh deep water, My skirt was soaked to my waist to give you an idea of the vigor of some of these crossings. Runners were holding each others hands and helping others get across just to run a few hundred feet to another crossing. But, this might have slowed an already slow climber down even more (cough cough, me). The nice thing about the water was it numbed my busted heel. And we climbed...from 8,600 ft to about 13,200.  Boom...and it was like a force field holding me back, like 2 magnets- Me and the altitude. My heart was beating fast, I was out of breath, my legs were like molasses, and I had fallen way behind the pack I traveled the first 7 miles with.  I began to feel better as the course descended into William Creek aid station, but that was it- i was too late. I think I would have squeaked in if I didn't think I got off trail, and hiked back up about a .25 mile only to find out I was going the right fucking way after all. But, I didn't squeak in, and I didn't make the cut off, and I packed all those drop bags so perfectly for nothing. And, I planned my hydration and pace methodically for nothing. And, I cried like a baby to the volunteer.

And, that was that. I went to the finish and watched my amazing friends come through late in the evening. I wanted to feel that good pain as we sat around the table late Saturday night. Damn, it stung. It stings. I guess it just wasnt my day.

It wasn't just the altitude. It wasn't just my foot. My head got out of this race really early on. Frankly, I had an unpleasant conversation with my husband the night before that left me feeling kinda blue as I was fighting up there on the ridge of the first big climb. I was essentially all alone in this vast land of amazingness and instead of embracing it, my head got out of it. It just wasn't my day.

I just got back from a 6 mile run in Little Cottonwood. I was alone with my music and ran hard and faster than I ever have up there, filled with rage and disappointment. But, some peace came as I finished. I'm in search of more peace with this...and redemption...Speedgoat50k on the horizon.

Sad didn't make cut off Selfie