Quad Rock 50 mi...errr, 25 mi..scratch that 35 mile race?

I can't call my run at the Quad Rock 50 a race. And, I can't really call it a fun run either. Actually, I am still trying to process last Saturday's run at Lowry State Park. Perhaps, getting it outta my cluster fudge of a brain will help me articulate my thoughts on this past weekend.

ROAD TRIP!
We quite literally, merrily headed outta town Friday morning, heading east to colorful Colorado.  It was a long drive, but I've come to the conclusion that my friends who are also my running tribe do not run out of things to talk about. You name it, we talked or laughed about it. We rented a cute little house 10 minutes from the start line. The evening before the race was full. Packet Pick-up, quick shopping trip, and dinner. Need to point out Fort Collins is a jumping town! Main street is packed with brewery's, restaurants, shops, and college kids oozing from every corner. It was also graduation weekend, there were people everywhere! After a really fun dinner consisting of 2 beers and mediocre at best fish, but outstanding chips (potato, potato, potato...) we piled back in Jill's truck and headed  to the house. Drop bags, race clothes out, bed.

RACE MORNING!...came early
Coffee started peculating at 3:00am.  One by one we began milling.  The scents of Coffee, Sunscreen, and Desitin filled the kitchen and living room. Bibs pinned, shoes tied, poop again, and we're out the door. It was pretty warm, for a May Colorado morning at 4:45am.  Quick shot over to the start line. We snagged a parking spot right next to the start line due to our untouchable car pool game. It's gonna be a good day, i could feel it, man! And, we were off.

From here, I can only account my version of this race, but I can say I think we were all pretty stunned by the outcome. The first 10 miles were great and runnable. The scenery was on point, and the first 2 hours flew by.  I glided in to the first aid station Towers for the first time, grabbed a watermelon and headed out behind Betsy. Cheryl, Jill,and Dee were ahead and outta eye sight. Betsy and I pushed in to the Horestooth Aid (mile 10+) at the same time, and 10 minutes under my personal goal time to get there. The cut-off's to this race are tight. Betsy heads out. I'm slightly behind at this point, because it was getting HOT and I wanted to start icing my neck immediately. blah, blah, blah for 4 miles back up to Towers (for the second time) and exactly where everything went backwards (sincerely) for me. I saw Betsy just before the she popped out on the dirt road leading to the aid station (mile 14ish) In true Betsy fashion she was outta the aid station like lightening and I didn't see her when I arrived a few minutes later. I got more ice, I ate some more watermelon, I asked a volunteer if I needed to check out, and I  proceeded down the wrong trail. How? I'll tell why it's there fault, then how it was mine. There were 2 trails out of Towers Aid. There were 2 distances in the Quad Rock.  The 25 milers were coming in from a dirt road, and the 50 mile racers were coming in from an adjacent dirt road... let's see if I can draw this how I see it in my head right now

 No, my 5 year old didn't draw that, I did.

So, how is it there fault?  In my opinion there should have been a sign and or person at each trail signaling runners to their course trail. Or, at least checking the 50 mile runners in and out of that aid station. There was no timing mat at this aid, but I still think a written check in-out  could have helped air heads like myself...which brings me to...

So, how is it my fault?  Those awesome colorful triangles in my portrait above are flags.  In hindsight, I should have realized that was a "barrier" for the 50 milers to take the trail to the left . However, back to their fault. I went right to the tables and never knew there was another trail out of Towers. I actually thought the flags were blocking off the dirt road which we came up earlier in the morning, which was now the trail the 25 milers were coming up into Towers. (confused yet?) (Well, clearly I was) Back to my fault, I should have read the course description. And, actually I usually do study the course before hand.so, my fail. Also, it should have tipped me off that I had been on the trail to the right before. It was really sweet downhill for about 5 miles, and I was just on it maybe 1 and a half hours ago.

So, after getting food, ice, coke I said to a volunteer at the (wrong) trail head, "Do I need to check out" She said No, you're good, squirted me with water, and I proceeded down. I wondered why so many people were speeding by me, but WHY didn't dawn on me until I hit Hoorsetooth trail again.

After a bit (a lot) of cursing and holding back of tears. I decided to get aid and continue back up to Towers the exact way I went up before, take the correct trail this time, and continue on to the Start/Finish. Knowing very well that I would miss the cut off's to finish the 50 miler, I came to peace with it pretty quickly with the notion that my goal races are Bighorn 100, Wasatch 100, and The Bear 100.  I would get 34 or 35 miles and heat training out of the Quad Rock 50 miler.

I ran into the always lovely Eve who was running the 25 mile race. She allowed me to curse and vent some more.  We chatted for awhile, and I dropped behind her for the big climb back to Towers. At this point, Quad Rock had turned into a training run. I didn't have a chance in heaven or Hell to make the first cut off with my course mistake, so I didn't push hard from there on out. blah blah blah, back to Towers, down the correct trail, into Arthurs, out of Arthurs, climbing up one last time until the descent to the start/finish. After Arthurs, I expected to cross the girls paths as they continued on their counter clockwise direction of the course. Where is everyone?? Perhaps I followed a trail of boy scouts or a heard of deer this time and missed the course again? Perhaps I was daydreaming and took a turn to head back to Hoorsetooth for the third time? :) But no, I was on course.  Finally, I see Carrie, Dee, and Jill.  They made the first cut off at the turn around, yay! They were trucking on to Arthurs but chasing the second cut -off.  Betsy and Cheryl were done for the day due to cut off's and pains. 

I had to force down a bonk bar to get the last 2 miles under my belt to the finish. When I came in, everyone was there, and done for the day. None of us were able to get in under those cut-offs for the 50 mile finish. What. The. (You Know what Im gonna say...F!)

For a little perspective...I went on UltraSignup ,Jill and Dee have never missed a cut-off. Between the 2 of them alone, they have 165 races recorded on Ultra Sign up. This ain't their first Rodeo, know what i mean?
 (I am not sure about Betsy, Cheryl, and Carrie) But, I do know there's another combined 110 races between Betsy, Cheryl, Carrie, and myself. So..here's what I'm having trouble processing, and you can make your own conclusions, obviously:) But, that's 6 strong and tough women who have ran, according to ultrasignup, 275 races (and mind you, more than that, as all races aren't recorded on UltraSignUp) who couldn't make the cut -off's for the Quad Rock 50. 

Perhaps, it just wasn't our day. Perhaps, (speaking for me only) this is not a race for me. Even though I took a detour that didn't give me a chance of making up time in this race, I don't think I could have made it past the second cut off, even if I managed to get it under the first. It allows little to no margin of error or hiccups for a back or middle of the pack runner (in my very humbled opinion)

AH WELL

So, we didn't get  what we went out for, but that's life. We all walked away with a 25 mile finish medal, and a long day in a beautiful place. Beers and food afterwards eased the sting. We headed back to Salt Lake early Sunday morning. It was Mother's Day, and as much as i couldn't wait to spend it with my little babes, it was also pretty great to spend the morning with my second family. We will get em' next time. 

Next up 

• Scout Mountain 35k
• Bighorn 100
• Speedgoat 50k
• Wasatch 100
• The Bear 100
• The couch for a month

What would you change if you knew you only had one year left to live

Recently I revisited an article titled "What would you change if you knew you were going to die in one year"

So here is what I would change.

1) I would move back to Maryland  to be with my family
2) I would sell everything except my car, because I like to go places.
3) I would splurge on Food and Experiences
4) I would stop worrying
5) I'd stop questioning my value and beauty
6) I would quit social media
7) I'd take my daughters out of school and spend every day with them.
8) I would smell them and hug them too much.
9) And, I would make them videos and write them books of memories and lessons
10) I would print every picture I ever took.
11) I would be as honest and sincere as I could, always.
12) I would let go of pain and scars.
13) I'd kiss my husband every day.
14) I wouldn't work out, but I would run until my bones broke, and then some more.
15) I would tell each person I love, why I love them.


So, the point of this exercise, I gathered, was to pick your list apart, and change what you can control now.  As I sit here with tears rolling down my face, it's a very simple but powerful exercise to really narrow down what is important to each of us. I look at this list and I see very clearly what is important to me: My Family, Nature, Friends, Mental Freedom.  I guess I could move home without a death sentence, and I guess I could pull my daughters out of school and forgo conforming any longer to society. I kind of already do run until my bones break, so I guess I can check that one off.  But..all of those things have consequences that leaves us in a rational state figuring out the right and wrong things to do in our lives, the possible, the difficult, the affordable things that contribute to quality of life . But...I think the conversation that is starts with yourself, when you put yourself in this idea wholeheartedly , is possibly one that can filter thorough the muck, through the decision making process, through the top layers.   I realize this is getting very abstract, but looking at my own list I see the things I want.  I want to be free of negativity and excess, it gets in the way of so many things in so many ways! I want to like myself more, which goes hand in hand with my previous "want".  That is not a poor me thing. I like myself a lot, most of the time. But, I want to all the time...
I'll digress for just a moment because I think this is one of the greatest things I've heard in a long time...

“Even if you sleep late, eventually every day begins, and in the first minute of each day you have to face yourself. Day after day, until you die, you will wake up and remember what you’ve done. Memories of what you did the night before will bubble to the surface. Those memories will come with feelings. If you binged on ice cream or box wine or cocaine, that will be one of your first thoughts, and it will come with a weight of shame, maybe even self-hate.

“Those feelings may be subtle when you’re young and you think you have all the time in the world to turn things around. But unless you practice treating yourself well, soon you’ll be in your 50s and you’ll wake up and the pain of that first minute will be so intense that the day ahead will feel like a prison sentence.”

  “If you practice treating yourself well, then in your first minutes you’ll remember that you met a goal. You’ll remember that you ate food that nourished you, and that you moved and played with the body you’re so lucky to have. Those positive memories will come with good feelings—with deep, meaningful pleasure. A sense of peace. Accomplishment. Rightness.

“Practice living with intention and treating yourself well. Bother to care for and about yourself and your body, and your first minutes will feel like new beginnings. Ignore your body’s needs, neglect yourself, or continue to justify not treating yourself well, and your first minutes will be torture.

 “And here’s the thing: Your first minutes are unavoidable. Even if you graduate and get rich, you can’t ever outsource your first minute. You can’t hire someone to deal with it for you. Yes, you’re gonna die. We’re all gonna die. But until that hammer drops, you alone have to experience the first minute of every single day between now and then. We’re talking tens of thousands of times. Dying only happens once. Relative to those thousands of first minutes, dying is small potatoes.

 “Not to say that stuff has no impact on how you feel about life. Obviously, it does. But unless you treat yourself well and feel well, then it doesn’t matter how much good stuff you’ve got going on, because it’ll all just feel like a fancy box that you live in and resent until you die.”-Kelly Coffey

I want to work on my relationships, I want to make them better, stronger, more honest, less fluff, less criticism and judgement, more accepting, patient, and loving.  

The other day, a rare day when my house was clean, my to-do list was all crossed off for the day, dinner was great, and there was no arguing or bickering with or by anyone...I looked around and felt satisfied. I felt calm and happy. I felt loved and loving. I decided at that moment, that everything I have is enough. I tried really hard to hold on to that feeling for a few days.  It lasted until one night I had one too many cocktails, and spent the first minutes of the next morning wishing I hadn't, not feeling very good. The house was no longer straight, and the girls were arguing over the Minecraft world they were playing in together, virtually.

It's hard  for me to look at myself without negativity.  I don't always see the good stuff.  I don't always see strong, only the weaknesses I have.  Some days I forget to listen to my children talking. And some days marriage is work. Some days I miss my family so much that resentment and anger builds like a fire. I believe all of us are works in progress, and I thought this exercise, of listing the things I would change if I only had one more year to live, showed me the things I should change if I have 100 more years to live...

My New Year Post 2017

I went total cliche this New Years.  I took off December and  ate and drank myself into a jean size bigger, all with the idea and anticipation of resting & recovering from a year full of races, runs, biking, yoga, and getting stronger. A year full of really cool places and really hot runs, actual muscle definition, and very little body fat. But all that melted away in December with the help of all the food and all the drink and all the merry ol' holiday spirit..with gravy.

Actually, if you know me, you know this was an unplanned R&R.  Nagging pains and past injuries had been pestering my runs since a  Thanksgiving morning run in the snow. So, I talked myself into a planned (not really planned) rest, because I have filled my plate and went back for seconds, thirds, and a doggy bag for 2017.

Not to mention all the training runs I love and need to get me to these races in the New Year, this year, here's what I have on my horizon:

• Moab Red Hot 55k in February
• Buffalo Run at Antelope Island 50k in March 
• Quad Rock 50 mile in Colorado in May
• Scout Mountain 20 mile, Pocatello in June
• Bighorn 100 mile, Wyoming in June
• Speedgoat 50k (The Monster of the 50k) in July, Snowbird, UT
• Wasatch 100 mile Endurance Run, September, Wasatch Mountains, UT
• The Bear 100 mile Endurance Run ALSO in September, Utah/Idaho.

The only one iffy on that list is Wasatch, as it is a lottery. However, I did not get in last year, so I think my chances are even better this year of my name getting pulled.

Soooo..here I am January 3, with a mostly healed lower leg.  This pain comes and go's. It is an off and on  lingering pain / sensation from a tibial stress fracture 2 years ago.  I have had it MRI'd in the past (not this time) But, the MRI came back clear as  crystal.  Doctor said it could be nerve damage.  Either way, it irritates and worries me, becasue I have been benched in the past for almost 4 months due to an injury in the same spot..ayeyeye. So, I have rested..Im so damn rested, I feel like Ive been hibernating with Winnie the pooh and and large quantities of honey..and wine..and Salsa Verde dorittos..and tacos, plenty of tacos.

So here is my New Year Post.  Not of much interest to many, but a good way for me to get it all outta my head. So thanks computer for allowing me to blow my running bubbles with the ease of a keyboard and the risk of carpal tunnel. Who needs paper anyway. #savethetreesman

I gotta end this post with a reflection of 2016.  As far as running goes, it was mostly great.  Ups and downs with aches and pains didnt stop me this year from finishing all the races I set out to run. The first half of the year was tough. I figured out some tummy issues and dealt with a 5 week rest a month before Bryce100 (another unplanned rest due to a nagging injury that felt too much like a breaking bone)  Bryce was interesting and eye opening. Beautiful race, but hot and more like 105 miles. I learned way too close for comfort of the need to carry more water than you think you'll need. I learned to take care of your feet out there in the sandy desert for 100 miles, and that was no joke. I also learned DO NOT expect you and your ALSO sleep deprived crew to rally back to Salt Lake after a 100 mile race in the dark. Because although 4 hours aint no thang..it most certainly is after being awake for 40+ hours.
I came back to end my summer running with a satisfying finish at the Speedgoat 50k.  Paced 3 different friends in 100 mile races, exceeded my expectation at the Corner Canyon 50k in October, and ended the year with a double crossing of the Grand Canyon.Which was really great. For what its worth, I thought the eye candy was on the North Rim, BY FAR!

But- lets talk about this election. Have you heard?? The US elected an unqualified orange man who tweets angrily and often at media criticism and has turned this country into a dangerous joke, that for the first time in my life actually makes me want to cry about politics. This is not a new feeling for the millions of Americans who chose differently.  I was having a conversation with 2 men the other day- about this said asshat.  At last, I blurted out.."But hey guys!! Grab them by the Pussy?!?" Both men, one lib & one not, agreed with each other, that that was not that big of a deal."That's how men talk"...My only response was , well, than I am disappointed in both of you too. A friend of mine, whom I was very close to in my youth, is an apparent Trump supporter given her social media accounts.  I know for a fact this girl has been sexually assaulted, raped.  I will not go further into other reasons I can't understand her support for the man-baby. But, I am so shocked and sickened by even this one aspect of Trump.  But, more so, I am shocked and sickened by the "no big deal" attitude of the way he treats and has talked about women.  Trump is a national Show full of quick insults when his detached from real America ego gets fractured by the NY times or CNN. He's a joke..and we are the butt.

I'm putting it here, and honestly hope I am wrong when I come back and re-read this next year. I hope we go further forward as a united country. This will be tough given the volatile steps we have taken backwards over the last 18 months. But, I'll do my part. I will try to understand why him? How Him?! But, I am not hopeful I'll ever agree.

Anyway,  back to running for sanity, for health, for a pure high, and for a damn good time.
Happy 2017

And there we swayed
on a sinking ship
with a broken smile
and a bloody drip

Around my shoe
forming a puddle
missing time
nothing but subtle

cries of anger
and manic laughs
with boiling souls
and sarcastic banter.

The water rising
now stealing our necks
Our hands clasp
our legs intersect.

The silence is enough
to scare me to death
which is fitting
as I have not one breath

I should have said it
I should have ran
I should have played with them
more in the mountains and in the sand

I should have left this space
and seeked out more
more as in less
more as in to soar.

If you're going through hell....

If you are going through hell..keep going.

My theory on that quote comes full circle, that if you enter it, you must be able to exit it.  That is something I have always carried with me, since I was a young adult with a heart so broken over a boy that I thought I might actually stop breathing out of utter sadness. Dramatic?..yes. But, I feel with every piece of me, entirely consumed, but also intrigued by pain; more-so, the ability to heal.   I carried it with me when my mother died. I watched her take her last breath, and her body lay still and stiff in a hospice bed..and I bent down to her face and she was gone..and I suffocated for moments. I left this world for moments, and I went through hell and hung out there for a very long time. I found a way out, I found a way to heal, to get through hell. Some of which was not very smart or healthy.  Sometimes I'd close my eyes while driving fast, to see what would happen. Other times, I'd drift off into a haze of bottles and pills and turn the world off. And, some days, I'd go for 4-5 hour road runs with nothing but not enough water and music for no reason except to run away. And then those some days turned into more days...and then some more. And, when I felt that physical pain, I didn't embrace it or enjoy it as much as related to it on a level that I'm still not sure I can put into words accurately or articulately.  The best way I can is to say it was my only friend in the world that i could relate to and who understood me.  Somehow the pain that came from running for hours on empty ate the sadness that wrapped around me like ivy. The sadness became tangible and I could control it. I could hold on to it for hours, I could fight it, I could tell it not to leave me yet..or I could tell it to go fuck itself and keep running through it,  or to it, or from it...I'm not sure which..probably depended on the day. 

I realized over the last few weeks that the things that drives each of us to the mountains or the road is very different, and that to me is a beautiful diversity of unique individuals with wildly varying fires in their bellies, hearts, and legs.

 I paced 3 runners in 100 mile race's in the last 2 weeks.  Backup- I paced or accompanied 3 friends in their own  unique endeavors and adventures.

It was wild being on the other side of a 100 mile run.  Not that I have done so many- which is why it is all so interesting, intense, and exciting for me to watch and hopefully help someone in these very never-ending-esqe forward motions.  Goals, reasons, decisions, motivation, perseverance, ups that come fast and downs that come faster, mentally speaking.  The only thing that I find comforting when you are feeling so down and quite frankly, like total dog shit..is that nothing lasts forever, not even hell; and the most eye opening and profound thing I learned is that it is your own hell, and your own decision to exit when you're ready.  And, I'm speaking both literally and metaphorically.  I have yet to reach peace with pain. Perhaps it's the cross I strap to my back like my pack.

I'm so proud of my friends. Proud to call them friends and humbled by their efforts and even more in love with dirt than i ever though possible.  What a trip man.

  

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.

 

Bryce 100

 And all those things I didn't say,  wrecking balls inside my brain....

My Power's turned up...

I'll be strong...

And I don't really care if nobody else believes...

Cuz I still gotta a lot of fight left in me.

So many stories come from one race. And, as Betsy reminded me, that's because you're out here for so long! 

I don't know if plans work for other runners, but my races never seem to go how I envision them. Even on the rare occasion I do everything right-or as planned, the twisted fates of mine seem to twirl me into a spiral of great or worse. My "race report" might read more like a short story taking liberal advantages with poetic license, and peppered with some seriously painful blisters, math calculations, and bowel movements. 

Bryce was my third 100 mile race. I came in last, placed 102, female #19 at 38:06.  Part of me, the very small boat in a big ocean part of me, is bummed about my time. If you know me, you know that I absolutely swoon over the long distances, and you also know I am not speedy at the long distances. I have an almost romantic relationship with a good playlist and an ascending single track down a mountain, and that is the dragon I chase.

I am not very competitive by nature, which makes "racing" not only ironic, but also difficult for me.  However, I love the atmosphere, the friendships, the beauty, the aid, and the finish of races, that sometimes I view as organized and assisted runs rather than races. Given all that fluffy information about me; I still thought I'd finish Bryce in 34 hours or less. 

In the post-holing months of layers and gloves, the fantastical warmth of summer mornings dance in the back of our minds. And in the desert in June, just the opposite.  We started out Friday morning at 6:01 am. It was 36 degrees at the start line. It warmed up soon enough, and I was cruising at my very own pace for miles. Really enjoying the views. Stopping dead where I stand at the first glimpse of the Red Hoo Doo's and the vast green forests afar. Then, gulping at the fact that I would still be moving this same time tomorrow.  But, you can't think about that, or you shouldn't. The time can overwhelm me and induce impatience and can open the flood gates of negativity.   My sweet Olivia told me that she believes my mom comes into our yard and visions in the form of a butterfly. As I moved through the variable and ever changing scenery of the course, I was often visited by the flutters of my mom as a Monarch Butterfly. This made me smile and tear, jumping emotional lily pads. One moment blissful gratitude for my daughters, then a whimper that I was so far away from them. I was very emotional on Friday. I was drenched in thought, and my mind is a hard thing to turn off.

Honestly, I thought the distances between aid stations were too far the first 30 miles, and therefore, the last 30 as well. The aid and volunteers were great. But, I ran out of water every stretch of those in-between's . Perhaps that was my fault, but 60 oz of water usually gets me through 10 miles or less, so that's what I brought, and that wasn't enough.  However, I was moving really well, and noticed that I am improving on power hiking.  boom, boom, boom. I trucked along all day long, eating so much and so often. My tribe would be proud of this little former puker. By god I think I've done repaired & reformed my stomach. So- That was #1 GOOD thing about Bryce, solid tummy. 

So here I am moving well. Mile, 10, 20, 30, 40, 45, 46, 47777, 488888, 4999999. Shit, it's dark. My feet had started to bother me around mile 30. Nothing too bad. And, not to sound like too much of a self proclaimed tough cookie, but pain doesn't bother me. Frankly, endorphin's usually mask my pain so incredibly well, that I don't even know something hurts or is broken until the run is over.  But, my feet were getting trashed early on.  I failed to take a head lamp going forward to the turn-around, mile 51.65. The sun went down as I was making my way through the single track into Crawford Aid. I was tripping on nature, and wishing that brutal sun would come back for just 30 more minutes. All day, I held close to my heart the idea of calling my girls at the turn around to say goodnight, and to gain some energy from their sweet voices and well wishes. As the night grew darker, I wept that I would miss them before bed.  I was in rough shape when I got to Betsy and Nancy.

I was so happy to see them both. "where's my car?" I asked. "Why?" asked Betsy. It was like she knew I already decided I was going to lay for just a minute. And, it was like she already decided that wasn't happening.  "Can you get my phone?" Betsy handed me my phone a few minutes later...No Service.:(

My friends sat me in a chair, changed my shoes and socks for me; something I don't usually do, but I had to try something to remedy the feet. Ibuprofen wasn't doing a thing for the pain. I ate soup and fried chicken I brought from home. My crew and pacer angels filled my pack, dressed me warmly, and Nancy and I trekked outta there at 10:30pm. I felt better. I was loaded up with calories and was relieved to be on the other side of 50. After a few hours of fighting the sleepy monster, I asked Nancy if I could shut my eyes for a few minutes. She gave me 2 minutes, that felt like 2 seconds. She let me sit down on the trail again, if I promised to eat while I sat. We went into Mile 62 at 2:00am.

 I sat in my car this time. I ate more soup, I drank a Red Bull, I changed my shoes back, still trying to ease my burning toes, pads, and heels. Then, Betsy and I headed out into the early morning hours. We only had 4 more hours until the heat of hell rose in the east. #2 GOOD thing, Betsy and I had a lot of fun chatting, laughing, eating & moving through the night. The cool weather was intoxicating, and although my feet were on fire, I jogged the downhills at her lead. We made it to mile 75 right before 7:00am. Shortly after that, I took off my socks. The sand, the friction, the sweat was unbearable. It was the only thing left I could try. So, I ran close to 20 mile with no socks, foot to shoe. The magic of mile 75 lasted for a few hours as we trucked through the morning. The blisters on my toes grew along with the intense sunshine. Aid Stations had run out of ice and cold water, bacon, and anything remotely palatable. I ate a sandwich that was in my pack and gel's the rest of the afternoon. I was slowing down to a slow walk by mile 86 on the brutal climb out or Proctor. We were now sharing the trail with the fresh and speedy 50k racers, and the 50 mile runners, too and getting asked to move out of the way frequently. I kept running out of water, and Betsy selflessly gave me her own more than once. There was no ice or means of cooling down at aid stations, at this point. We just had to deal with our rising core temps and swelling fingers. Salt, Salt, Salt, Gel, warm water, warm gatorade.  A small run off of cold water was salvation approaching the last aid station at Thunder Mountain. EVERYONE stopped and waddled in the puddle.

I knew we would be OK even at a slow pace, to go 7.5 miles from the last aid to the finish, and still make the 36 hour mark. I needed aid. I needed food, I needed ice and cold water. I also needed 7.5 miles, and no more than that. -And, I got none of that.

Betsy ran ahead to the aid. She was going to fill a sock with ice to keep on my neck. I approached a few minutes behind an irritated pacer. No ice. No cold water, in fact there was a line for warm water. They had little food, and nothing substantial left. But, the kicker was a white board that said the distance to the finish was 9 miles. The last 30+ hours had proven longer distances between about half the aid stations, by my math I was convinced this race was closer to 105 miles. And although it was only 1.5 miles longer than the website promised, it was too much, and I began to feel defeated. My blisters were riddling me with pain, to the point I was wincing and quivering at a jog. We now had 3 hours to go 9 miles with one of the biggest climbs of the race, and I was essentially crawling. I cried for a few minutes. 

I was angry and confused. I had been making cut -offs with hours to spare since the start. Once I accepted this point in the race for what it was. I said to Betsy. We will be fine, I am working and moving as fast as I can right now, and if I work any harder I'll kill myself.  I will move as fast as I can to the finish, hopefully they will give me an official finish time.

 My lungs were audibly filled with dust. I hadn't taken a clean deep breath since last night. My feet were wet, blistered, and burning. My back was throbbing given my compensated run to find some run/walk that spared my feet, unsuccessfully.  I ran out of water again, and again, Betsy gave me her own, and my core temp was so high I truly think you could have cooked a pot roast on my head.

So, I walked and winced in pain with every step. Betsy called Nancy and let her know we were walking it in to the finish. I still wanted to finish. Nancy walked the course backwards with ice and cold water. With over 3 miles left we were both dry as a bone.  The three of us walked to the finish, and I shuffled over the timing mat to the applause of the runners around. "Congratulations!  Go see my son to get your buckle."

I actually did get an official finish time, and my third 100 mile finish and buckle. I collapsed in a chair, vibrating and drained from the last 2 days. We shuttled back to my car. I took a shower in a public wash room and drank a warm beer as the hot water washed layers of dirt off my body. 

We headed back to Salt Lake after.

I don't know numbers, but so many people dropped.  Do I wish it would have gone better?- well, duh, yes. But, I am happy that I kept going. I am happier that I had 2 really amazing women by my side, and friends and family cheering me on from a distance. Encouraging messages from my family, my sister's text quoting my motivational song, a text from my husband to stay strong and finish, no matter what. I did the best I could, I really did. And, I am happy with the accomplishment. 

~I spared you the bowel movement details, but just know they existed and were graphic.~

I value time to reflect on not only races, but moments during them. The small moments or the few miles of smiles where the feeling of self pride and joy of the moment over ride the negativity and the impatience. When you put on your music, or laugh with your friend, and enjoy the run. 

Next up, Speegoat. The MONSTER of the 50k distance.

BEFORE POST Bryce 100 June 17, 2016

I kept telling myself as the past few weeks passed by like a large hour glass with it's grains pouring to a pile in front of my feet; be positive. Think positive, be patient, do what you can. I am not inspired by motivational memes and by the social media runners who share every mile and moment with the world. I too get excited and energized by the personal thrill and the vast depths of mountains and canyon trails- And I too share with my little world. But sometimes it's just about me and my moments and they are mine, as yours are yours.  Tangent- I digress-as I do.

My point is, Im a fighter, a survivor, a slogger, and rougher around the edges of every mold I fit; this is how I see myself, anyway. So, it's very easy for me to go into defense mode, especially against myself. But - Be kind I told myself, be positive and positive things will happen. Now, I don' tthink this positive thinking has medically healed my ankle- i think that has been the time I took off and PT I administered on myself with the help of google.
But, I think I made it through and am back on track for the Bryce 100 mile endurance run on June 17. 3 1/2 weeks away.

Nervous? Absolutely.
Excited? Very.

I finally ran a double digit, all be it the first double digit- 10, miles on Saturday. An unexpected cold rain and the company of a friend was both good for training and the soul. Confidence that I can make it to the start line in Southern Utah blossomed from that rainy May Saturday.
I have been working out every and all other ways I can over the last month and will continue to do so, as I attempt to train smart and strong for 2 more weeks. Going into Bryce with a week of taper; not my usual plan, but we roll with the punches..or the ankle for poetic effect.

So here's my before BRYCE 100 post- with 3 weeks away, I've got lotttts of shit to do.
Betsy asked me Saturday, where are you going to sleep Thursday night? 
What are you going to eat during the race? 
What's the weather going to be like? 
Can we have a car at the 50mi turnaround?

 (Betsy and Nancy my friends, crew, and pacers for this one) I HAD NO ANSWERS.
This is unlike me, as I usually am studying up on all this kinda info and plans. But I have been 110% focused on healing inside and out. And, for now, I GET TO go run.

So, wish me luck, YOU;)

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R & R & Re-charge.

It's so easy to feel defeated or sorry for yourself when your world and unfortunate circumstances leaves you feeling like the "why me?" victim. It's very easy to dilute those in a cocktail with your ankle in a bucket of ice-
Ahh, so, there it is, there it  always is. injury. "why me"? Why is it always me?

I ran a free locally organized trail  marathon a week or so ago.  6,250 feet of climbing. A month before, I ran 50 miles out at Antelope Island, a disaster of a race due to stomach issues that I have spent the last month fixing. Found out I'm lactose intolerant, have had a horrific bacteria for who knows how long, as it led to an ulcer at the base of my esophagus. Im happy as shit that I figured out why I was puking blood and stomach lining at every race besides Wasatch in the last year, and then boom- ankle pain. Bad ankle pain- or fibula pain where it meets the ankle to be more specific. Bone pain in the lower extremities is a big old nightmarish red flag to Stop. And Stop Now, like 5 min ago Now. 

Driving back from car pool line this morning, I turned up the music as I always do. Loud like a teenager to re-live a brief moment of solitude and defiance.  ..."ya know the one thing you're fighting to hold, will be the one thing you have to let go..."

heavy footed I drove faster to the 7-11 to pick up a bag of ice and a coffee with NON -DAIRY powder creamer, yuck- but i'm done mourning cheese and cream- it's not a death sentence, just a change.
-However, here I am falling into "why me?" Well, fuck that. Shit happens to everyone, everyone has their problems, and that's life. By the time I was back in my car with ice for my ankle and shitty coffee for my soul, I had changed my perspective:

It's a set-back. A temporary time to rest. And, I'm going to squeeze every drop of the good out of this pain that I can. I have run 3 races since February, I have  been through the ringer with my tummy, I think I have run all winter smart and strong. Ive gotta look at this as a rest to rejuvenate my bones, my muscles, my love of the training and warm mornings that are on the horizon. I have some big things planned in the near future, and if I play the fiddle of my body correct, I will be able to run these things and enjoy them. Minimal training for ultras has been my process since last years sidelined winter. 12 weeks..maybe more, maybe less...I can't remember exactly, just that it felt like a really effin' long time.

It's a rest, a break, a time to get healthy for the Grand Canyon in 4 weeks. I've never been, and I get to go see it from rim to rim to rim on foot, with friends. I have been wanting to do this since I learned I was capable of running long distances and for a long time. It's been something I have wanted to do for several years, and  I'm super stoked about it.

It's a re-set, set-back, re-rejuvenate, re-invent training time to get healthy and strong for my third 100 mile race on June 16, the Bryce 100. I'm also super excited about this too! I get giddy thinking about the long full mooned night, followed by a bursting sunrise in the out of this world Southern Utah desert sky. Butterflies dance in my belly imagining the  last 25 miles when the end is in your back pocket and you can see it, every painful step and tear and smile to get to that place, and collapse happy and tired and fulfilled. I have friends coming with me to support me, run with me, do all those things that your running people do for you, because they get it. -And, you will do it for them too.

If all goes well, which I really hope and am confidant it will, I'll end my racing for the year pretty early with the beastliest of the 50k distance. The 10th year of the Speedgoat 50k, for my third time. This race, as everyone knows is a monster. A monster which destroyed me every minute of  12+ hours last year. It's so brutal and relentless that it is the only race, besides the Wasatch100 that has brought me to tears before it even begins. That dance is on July 9. (and I heard there's a chance my friend could possibly make this race even harder this year)

After that, I take another rest- this one planned, not because something hurts.  We will head out of town to see family across the country, ending our summer with a beach week in August. After the MONSTER , It's casual running for me, as my friends will be in the thick of their 100 mile training. Of course, Ill join them on running the courses and long saturdays, but my pressure and race anxiety will be over. Running for fun with friends and fitness and views and laughs and experiences and sanity. So, Im also very excited about September; crewing and pacing the ladies who have picked me up emotionally and physically so many times. First up will be the Wasatch 100, where I will be Betsy's pacer and whatever she needs. 33 miles from brighton to the finish with her, and it will be great and hard.  Then, 2 weeks later, pacing and crewing my partner  and mentor in this dirty world- The Bear100 where I will be Cheryl's pacer and pain in the ass for 25 miles.

So- Im excited. And, Im bummed. But, it will be fine, patience and discipline and intelligence will be imperative the next few weeks, to get me to all these amazingly hard things coming up.

But for today, it's work, ice, kiddos, and shitty coffee.