tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50329597590357168242024-03-18T05:47:35.559-04:00Just Another Goatamyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-10961074697030553942015-03-26T23:44:00.001-04:002015-03-27T12:20:05.792-04:004Refugios Nonstop 2015: A bucket list'er. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Perhaps
there are races in the US like 4Refugios Nonstop (The Rut and Speedgoat 50K are
probably most similar, but both are 6 miles longer with slightly less vertical),
but I've certainly never done them. 4Refugios made every "technical" trail race I've ever done seem tame in comparison. The race is advertised as 42 Km (26 miles)
with 3500 meters of elevation gain (11,500 feet) and 3700 meters of descent
(12,100 feet). When you factor in that the first 3 and last 3 miles are relatively mild and don’t go up or down that much, it leaves most of that
ascent and descent crammed within the middle 20 miles, which makes the average
15% uphill grade and 18% downhill grade even steeper. If you like to bomb
wildly down steep insanely technical descents, or scramble up slippery talus slopes at 60% grade then this is the course for you.
Add it to your bucket list. Or, if you’d like to be surrounded by grandeur so
amazing that it makes you forget that you don’t like really steep insanely
technical slopes, then this might also be the course for you. 4Refugios is
tough, but so beautiful you won’t regret that face plant down the steep scree
field. And, you’ll be wearing a helmet, so at least you won’t damage your head if
you do fall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5hI708HovBI/VRSHsF2tz6I/AAAAAAAACgs/HEpumjJla3o/s1600/Perfil4Nonstop%2B(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5hI708HovBI/VRSHsF2tz6I/AAAAAAAACgs/HEpumjJla3o/s1600/Perfil4Nonstop%2B(1).jpg" height="81" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The elevation profile. The font is quite possibly to small to read (click to make larger), but I like the 61% max grade tidbit. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4Refugios
is challenging not just because of the grade, but the technical nature of the
trail, many parts of which are hard to distinguish as a true trail, but rather
an exercise in heading in the direction of red painted dots which blaze the way
over talus-covered passes. An indication of how poorly I followed this “trail”
would be that my Garmin registered 29 miles for the 26 mile course. The
shortest point between 2 red dots is indeed a straight line, but this was for
me, easier said than done. I also spent some time off course on top of La
Navidad, which probably added on a mile, and I potentially took a slightly longer
route to the finish, as I passed the same person twice
during the final 4 miles, flying by each time, the second time 20 minutes after
I passed her the first time. So, my mileage totals were potentially wonky for more reasons than my inability to hit the tangents.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vDq9KkEvPL0/VRSKO2j41KI/AAAAAAAACg4/9TCIzRAJj-8/s1600/red%2Bdots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vDq9KkEvPL0/VRSKO2j41KI/AAAAAAAACg4/9TCIzRAJj-8/s1600/red%2Bdots.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">An example of the trail. Follow the red dots. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wrBIXkmkB5Y/VRTB8d9mkFI/AAAAAAAACjQ/Vs1l-aCnpWo/s1600/valley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wrBIXkmkB5Y/VRTB8d9mkFI/AAAAAAAACjQ/Vs1l-aCnpWo/s1600/valley.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">On course. This is up and over the first pass after Refugio Frey, and we're about to bomb down the scree field off to the left in this picture. The video below shows one guy's attempt at the descent. </span></td></tr>
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2015 was
the 10th year of 4 Refugios, but only the 2nd year of the version of the race
that I was entered in, 4 Refugios Nonstop. 3 races happen during the weekend,
2 Refugios on Saturday, 4 Refugios Classico on Saturday and Sunday (2 Refugios
each day), and then the 4 Refugios Nonstop on Sunday. A refugio is basically a
mountain hut that provides lodging and meals to backpackers/climbers/skiers. The
race passes by 4 scenic mountain huts, which double as aid stations. The
event is capped at around 600 runners in the 3 events, somewhat equally
distributed among the 3 races. Unique to this race is the requirement to wear
a helmet the entire race and carry a harness and 2 locking carabiners to clip
onto a fixed line during one of the 2 "tiempo muertos". The required gear
includes an additional long list of items including a somewhat extensive
medical kit and enough layers to keep you warm were you to get stranded/injured
along the way, or survive in the case of inclement weather. The "tiempo muertos" or dead times are designed such that during zones that are particularly tricky/dangerous
were you to try to race through them, you've got sufficient time to pass
carefully before "racing" on. There’s one 30 minute dead time on the climb up
out of the 2<sup>nd</sup> refugio (Jakob) where you’re required to clip onto a fixed line and it’s a
one-at-a-time deal. Another 40 minute dead time starts the final descent,
to encourage folks to not kill themselves getting down to the last refugio
(Lopez) where there’s someone in charge of telling you when your 40
minutes is up and you can start running again (based on the time that was sharpied
onto your race bib at the pass above). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hfwPeb3xaPw/VRTB6loKaBI/AAAAAAAACi0/d8n611PN6jI/s1600/tiempo%2Bmuerto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hfwPeb3xaPw/VRTB6loKaBI/AAAAAAAACi0/d8n611PN6jI/s1600/tiempo%2Bmuerto.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Hanging out at the first Tiempo Muerto with Lau Lucero and others. Lau, last year's winner, went on to finish 3rd.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A short summary of my race: I was with the women that finished 1-3 (all previous winners of various versions of past editions of the race) on top of La Navidad (on the elevation profile, it's what looks like the middle high point), where we got somewhat lost, and struggled for 10 minutes or so to find where the trail descended off the side. It was clouded in up top, and getting cold, so I stopped to take a jacket out of my pack right about the time the group (including several guys) found the trail, and everyone took off down the side of a very steep slope. By the time I got my pack back on, they were already disappearing into the distance, and I stood there momentarily jaw dropped watching them fly down the very technical descent. This descent was my low point in the race, as I couldn't stay on trail, and struggled to try to run over terrain I wasn't comfortable moving fast on. Losing the group so quickly left me deflated. The trail eventually became one with a river that descended down the valley and at times was the river, and at other times skirted along the sides. At one point I came to a waterfall, which seemed unlikely to be the trail, but not impossible based on the trail to this point. About halfway down the waterfall I came to a point where I would have had to have made a bit of a jump so stopped to reassess the situation. I could jump down the falls, and perhaps pummel myself on the rocks below (wasn't that far, but would have hurt), or turn around and climb back up and go back to find the trail. As I sat there, I looked up above and could see the trail off to the side of the river on the opposite side, so realized I needed to back track. It was during this descent that I really lost any competitive drive I'd had, and also realized I just didn't have the technical skills and/or confidence to try to keep up with the women in front who were able to push the pace over terrain that I would prefer to butt-scoot across. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k1BBK3_SBH4/VRSfiPG8LBI/AAAAAAAAChI/mDjVhJ1b9Jo/s1600/rock%2Bpile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k1BBK3_SBH4/VRSfiPG8LBI/AAAAAAAAChI/mDjVhJ1b9Jo/s1600/rock%2Bpile.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Heading up one of the many rocky ascents, this particular one is leading up to the climb to Lopez, the last and steepest climb up a whole lot of slippery talus. It was on the talus around Lopez that the helmet seemed a wise idea, mainly from the amount of rock that was getting kicked around (in large part by me). Photo by GuiaKmZero.com. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Visualization can be a strong tool, those in the sports psychology
world say, but when I visualize myself running down a steep rocky slope, it’s
never a pretty picture. It starts out OK, but then I always catch my toe and
skid to a halt on my face. Lucky for me, I only had one real fall, which cut up my hand a bit and the side of my thigh. My lack of confidence
perhaps slowed me on the descents, but looking back, spending extra time on
the course was not all bad, as it was unforgettably gorgeous from the minute
the sun came up. I don’t regret stopping to snap a few photos, and only wish I’d captured a few
more at the hard-to-describe places. But being hard to describe, they were also
tricky, and I was more focused on surviving them.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B9K-8khL-sA/VRSgGENF1iI/AAAAAAAAChQ/3aBb1ws1kls/s1600/scenery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B9K-8khL-sA/VRSgGENF1iI/AAAAAAAAChQ/3aBb1ws1kls/s1600/scenery.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Not a bad place to slog uphill. Photo by GuiaKmZero.com.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17.9333324432373px;">Going in, I knew that the race would not play to my strengths--more runnable courses are my strength, but despite that, courses like 4Refugios are more intriguing to me, and by continuing to run technical mountain races I hope to continue to improve at them. The race distance was also fairly short. Time-wise, no--I've finished 100Ks faster than I "ran" these 42K, but upon finishing I felt I hadn't paced myself properly as I could have kept going for another few hours, held back more by crappy technique than fitness. Not the feeling you want to have at the end of a race. I wound up 4th in 9:47, a long ways off of the top 3 who came in fairly close together with Claudia Veronica Ramirez winning in 9:08, Sonia Boretsky in 9:11, and Lau Lucero in 9:22. Claudia won last year's Clasico version, Sonia has won the Clasico 4 times in the past, and Lau won last year's Nonstop in 9:40, which, without any other reference, was roughly the time I was shooting for, although I also hoped to be competitive. This is a race that I'd love to do again, not necessarily because I feel like I'd be any faster, but just that it was such a cool experience. The 3 local talents definitely showed the visitor who is top on these trails. I'd love to learn some descending tips from these ladies; they were fun to watch bomb downhill.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17.9333324432373px;">At times, such as the descent off of La Navidad, I got frustrated with how timidly I was approaching the race, but then would look up at the beauty around me, and acknowledge just how fortunate I am to have had the opportunities that I've had, and the good health to participate in events like these. Out there on course, it was easy to put myself back in a happy place by simply looking at the immense beauty surrounding me. So many highlights, including the reflection on the lake by Refugio Frey, the turquoise mountain lakes looking down from the first Tiempo Muerto, the views both arriving in and leaving Laguna Negra, the complete shock at looking up at Lopez and realizing we literally were going straight up that thing, and then the relief of coming down the other side in a tiempo muerto, and mainly on my butt.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j9GT21oP0NQ/VRS9u2TWsFI/AAAAAAAAChg/fnJajetCJ00/s1600/reflection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j9GT21oP0NQ/VRS9u2TWsFI/AAAAAAAAChg/fnJajetCJ00/s1600/reflection.jpg" height="296" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The lake next to Refugio Frey, the first of the four during the race. I took this on a run earlier in the week. Refugio Frey is a hot spot for climbing with lots of granite spires surrounding it. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17.9333324432373px;">One lesson learned if I were to do this again (and for UTMB later this year), would be to pack more carefully--I felt like I was carrying a ton of bricks, and others seemed to have better thought out the gear requirements and were carrying packs half my size. When you are doing that much climbing, a heavy load feels like a really heavy load. I was happy to finish with minimal damage: no blisters, no hot spots, all my toenails, my quads intact, and all fingers unbroken. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17.9333324432373px;">Bariloche was a place I visited back in 2003, and it left a lasting impression back then. During the course of the week, I'd get to a place and have one of those deja vu moments, and realize I'd been there before, like Refugio Frey. In returning to them again 12 years later I couldn't help but reflect about who I was then versus who I am now and the adventures I've had in between. Kind of like the experience of the entire 4Refugios course—you finish not quite the same person at the end as the one who began it, but overall better for the experience.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-86gBLO_gNio/VRTNCsu2LWI/AAAAAAAACjc/JJrcP3sWn4w/s1600/frey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-86gBLO_gNio/VRTNCsu2LWI/AAAAAAAACjc/JJrcP3sWn4w/s1600/frey.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Refugio Frey. Brought back a lot of fond memories of past travels in Patagonia.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">4 Refugios was a memorable race experience, and I feel very
fortunate and thankful to my sponsors, for allowing me the opportunity to
travel down to Bariloche to participate. Many thanks to Mountain Hardwear Argentina for extending the invitation and for providing great support while I was down there. Petzl was also a huge help in providing me with a helmet, harness and new Nao light for the race--if I were to ever choose to run in a helmet again, the Petzl Sirocco is the one I would choose as it's light as a feather. In the meantime, having some basic gear (helmet and super lightweight harness) and living next to Smith Rock has motivated me to climb again after a 20 year break. I'm heading out for my second time next weekend. </span><br />
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Also, the organization that puts the race on, led by Martin "Cepi" Raffo, with a lot of assistance by Club Andino Bariloche, is top notch. Admittedly, some of the volunteer posts were downright dreamy (albeit a bit cold, windy, and exposed), as you'd run into volunteers standing in the middle of the most spectacular vistas. Many thanks to Cepi and all of the volunteers. 4Refugios is truly a unique event for
its difficulty, design, and above all, for its beauty. If you have a bucket
list, the desire and means to experience the beauty
of Patagonia, and you like technical mountain trail scrambling, then 4Refugios
should be on that list!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JHpBLLmGE-s/VRTRaciA2tI/AAAAAAAACjo/ILddCFzEFmA/s1600/injinji.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JHpBLLmGE-s/VRTRaciA2tI/AAAAAAAACjo/ILddCFzEFmA/s1600/injinji.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">After 9:47 of wet, dusty, gravel-filled shoes and socks, my feet were unscathed thanks to Montrail Bajadas and Injinji Trail 2.0s (and a little Desitin). </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Words don't really do the course justice, so some photos to fill in the gaps. Luckily I had the chance to be down there for an entire week, so many of these pictures from the course (or near the course) were from the days prior leading up to the race. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gCWW7s6idfk/VRTB2IXX9TI/AAAAAAAACiU/kPXglkNSr2s/s1600/piedritas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gCWW7s6idfk/VRTB2IXX9TI/AAAAAAAACiU/kPXglkNSr2s/s1600/piedritas.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Technically you pass by 5 refugios, this being the first, known as Piedritas, but what I like to refer to as Rock, Paper and Scissors in harmony.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fiaHhILdW-Q/VRTB06xBxII/AAAAAAAACh4/GK82bQVMNf4/s1600/flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fiaHhILdW-Q/VRTB06xBxII/AAAAAAAACh4/GK82bQVMNf4/s1600/flower.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Wildflowers along the course. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">More wildflowers along the course. This particular section is about 2 miles in, and the race passes this part in the dark. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ePalnI9Xw8U/VRTB0gf8toI/AAAAAAAACiY/96_JC6K_1WY/s1600/italia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ePalnI9Xw8U/VRTB0gf8toI/AAAAAAAACiY/96_JC6K_1WY/s1600/italia.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Refugio Italia on Laguna Negra. This was the 3rd refugio, sandwiched in between the tricky descent off of Navidad, the steep climb up to this spot, and the big climb up Lopez to come. This little spot was a gem. Would love to go back and spend some time here.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vtVJ_W7OoJE/VRTB1SUErzI/AAAAAAAACiM/FlBJE-vJhPI/s1600/laguna%2Bnegra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vtVJ_W7OoJE/VRTB1SUErzI/AAAAAAAACiM/FlBJE-vJhPI/s1600/laguna%2Bnegra.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Racers heading up away from Laguna Negra. At Refugio Italia, the two races merge (2nd day of the Clasico and the Nonstop, so you start to see a lot more racers).</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9Exk5al5X-o/VRTB74ve7XI/AAAAAAAACjI/d2rckFvKXpA/s1600/towards%2Blopez.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9Exk5al5X-o/VRTB74ve7XI/AAAAAAAACjI/d2rckFvKXpA/s1600/towards%2Blopez.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Continuing to head up away from Laguna Negra towards Lopez on a lot of sharp pointy rocks.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-or_91KY0-VU/VRTB1qMW0nI/AAAAAAAACiQ/YUdb06stc38/s1600/lopez.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-or_91KY0-VU/VRTB1qMW0nI/AAAAAAAACiQ/YUdb06stc38/s1600/lopez.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The race takes you up and over to the left and then Lopez is in the background. We head up the talus slope in the middle of the second row of mountains pictured here. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com257tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-83374336888518623622015-02-03T01:09:00.001-05:002015-02-03T01:31:55.392-05:00Revisiting past DNFs: HURT 100<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Looking around at the clean shoes and eager faces at the start line of the HURT 100 is a little discouraging, knowing despite how chipper we all seemed at 5:55 a.m. that, very likely, fewer than half of us would cross the line to kiss the sign, and those of us who did would no longer have beach-ready feet. HURT is hard to finish, but that’s what the RDs want per the sign that you kiss upon finishing and what’s imprinted on the finishers’ buckle, “’Aole makou e ho'ohikiwale kela,” Hawaiian for, “We wouldn't want it to be easy.” </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YWtg4a4wtpU/VNBB7yiXHkI/AAAAAAAACcs/itn1Sv7F1W0/s1600/sign.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YWtg4a4wtpU/VNBB7yiXHkI/AAAAAAAACcs/itn1Sv7F1W0/s1600/sign.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The HURT sign at the finish. Photo: me. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This year the finishing percentage almost reached 50% (60
finishers out of 121 starters), the highest finishing rate ever (average is closer to 40%). During the
first and second loop we joked on course about it being “HURT Light” although
that joking stopped by the third lap. Even in a dry year, which this was, the tedious
technical repetitiveness of HURT makes it a mental challenge to keep heading
out loop after loop. Compare HURT’s finishing rate to other races considered to
be the toughest 100s, like Hardrock (with very different qualifying standards,
so hard to compare), which often boasts a finishing rate over 70%. Besides the trail itself, a number of factors contribute to
why HURT’s finishing rate is so low:</div>
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</div>
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The weather in Hawaii in January (heat and
humidity vs. snow and cold back home). 80 degrees with 80% humidity feels
really warm if coming from real winter.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">A January 100 is tough to prepare for—lots of
your running buddies are taking a down season. Throw in the holidays and
travel, and there are a lot of distractions, along with the shortest, coldest days
of the year to train.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The lure of the beach, and the simple fact that
loop courses close to an urban area and the beach are relatively easy to drop from—drop
and you could be ocean-side with drink in hand in 20 minutes vs. drop at the
wrong spot at Bighorn and receive an offer to hike out with the aid station
crew and horses the following day.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The loop. Every time you leave an aid station
you have to head up one of three climbs, which after the second or third loop,
you have memorized and might dread. </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And
each aid station can be driven to so it’s likely your crew is there with a
car. It's a really easy race to drop from, although the aid station volunteers will try to persuade you otherwise.</span></li>
</ol>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ApVTt39K8g/VNAu3SxhD2I/AAAAAAAACbw/cs5Nuuzw2ng/s1600/honolulu.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ApVTt39K8g/VNAu3SxhD2I/AAAAAAAACbw/cs5Nuuzw2ng/s1600/honolulu.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honolulu. The course is somewhere in those mountains in the background, dangerously close to the beach or your hotel. Photo: me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I DNF'ed HURT in 2011 after 60 miles. Looking back it’s easy
to second guess my decision, but at the time, it what was I thought I needed to
do. The year prior I’d torn half-way through my posterior tibial tendon, and it
became increasingly painful on loop 3; continuing on it seemed to not
be in the long-term best interest of my ankle or 2011 season. Linda and I
headed to Maui after HURT and the rest of that Hawaii trip was not as much fun
as it could have been, as I dwelt upon my DNF; DNF's really can suck the fun
out of destination races. I went back to Hawaii later that year for my cousin’s
wedding, and one rainy November morning ran the course from Paradise Park (AS
1) to Nu'uana (AS 2) and back. I swore after that muddy, slippery run that I
would never run HURT again. Why needlessly suffer? Each year though, in January, as friends
entered and succeeded at HURT, I had a little twinge of feeling like I was missing out. So, this past summer when I was home sick in bed (and still
dealing with a torn hamstring tendon attachment after Comrades), I saw Denise post
somewhere on social media about throwing her name in for HURT, and within
minutes did the same. FOMO at its finest.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jbBqwxFq0e8/VNANhR_LzWI/AAAAAAAACbM/Z-M1QWwTPG8/s1600/roots.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jbBqwxFq0e8/VNANhR_LzWI/AAAAAAAACbM/Z-M1QWwTPG8/s1600/roots.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The HURT trails on a rainy day in 2011. We lucked out this year. I think this is also part of the section leading into Paradise Park that has now been graveled over. I've had nightmares about this section. Photo: me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<u>Training and the Build-up<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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I often complain that my training isn't ideal, but the
lead-up to HURT was especially not ideal. The World 100K broke me. I’d
face-planted in the Seattle airport en route to Doha and my knee ballooned up
such that it looked like I had an alien coming out of my kneecap. The alien
child disappeared before the race start, but my knee was left bruised and
swollen. Hard to believe, but running 100K on the hardest surface imaginable
with a ton of fluid on your knee is likely going to cause some lingering
problems. Immediately following the race in Doha I couldn't bend my knee
without some painful medial clicking. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wYsVy_CHiyQ/VNAPf526NyI/AAAAAAAACbY/I8HetorKSM0/s1600/knee.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wYsVy_CHiyQ/VNAPf526NyI/AAAAAAAACbY/I8HetorKSM0/s1600/knee.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My knee about an hour before go-time in Doha after a lot of ice and ace-bandaging. Something's still not quite right in there.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The clicking led to an MRI to make sure
it wasn't a meniscus tear (it's not), and various other visits to a variety of
specialists (PT, acupuncture, body work, sorcery) to figure out the issue. The World 100K was on Nov 21, and trying to
deal with an issue didn't allow much time to get in decent 100-mile training
mileage, and my mileage leading into Worlds was never very high as I was still
building from my hamstring injury this summer. I hit 70 miles just once in
training for Worlds; my mileage was closer to 50 most weeks. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The knee clicking never really went away (turns out it's not really knee, but likely some tendon attachments, hamstring or adductor of
some sort), but the pain eventually did, so after a 3-week "recovery" from Worlds was able to get in a good 3-week training
block ending on Jan 3 in time for a 2-week taper. My longest run was 25 miles,
and I had 3 runs over 20 miles. I finally bought a plane ticket a couple weeks
out when it seemed like I could extend and lift my left leg enough to clear
rocks and roots. My HURT build-up post-worlds looked something like this:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Nov 21: World 100K, left knee was wonky and painfully clicking immediately
following.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Week ending 7 weeks out: 0 miles, save an MRI, PT and body
work sessions.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Week ending 6 weeks out: more PT visits, and the equivalent
of maybe 15 miles on elliptical/treadmill hiking.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Week ending 5 weeks out: 30 miles uphill hiking on treadmill
(15% grade @ ~14:30 pace—I hike with a purpose when on the treadmill and they
are medium-hard effort workouts; a couple of botched runs, culminating in a
fall on the good kneecap on trails Sunday because I couldn't lift my left knee high
enough to clear obstacles) for about 45 miles total. The run on Sunday left me
curled in a sobbing heap in the middle of the trail, but my friend Darla offered
the sage advice as I lay there sobbing on the frozen trail, “You know, things can turn around
quickly.” It was on this run that I decided to pull the plug on HURT, and later Darla’s words convinced me to hold out a little longer. Things
did seem to suddenly turn around, and I picked up the mileage the next 3 weeks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Week ending 4 weeks out: 67 miles, long run at Smith Rock on trail with ups and downs; slightly more hopeful, some hill work and more uphill hiking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TjUxbwgoC7Y/VNBCN0lOHWI/AAAAAAAACc8/ooQyBxFPSOU/s1600/IL.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TjUxbwgoC7Y/VNBCN0lOHWI/AAAAAAAACc8/ooQyBxFPSOU/s1600/IL.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running in scenic IL over the holidays. I actually think farmland is pretty, it's just not great HURT training. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Week ending 3 weeks out: 75 miles, much of this home over
the holidays, which means flat runs on country roads in rural Illinois. I also included
in this mileage the “workout” I did on Sunday en route home from Illinois,
where I had a few hour lay-over in Atlanta and tried to walk every step of the Atlanta
airport. Atlanta is a big airport and I didn't quite make it (because I back-tracked to grab Chipotle). I ended up with
blisters (I switched into running shoes mid-walk) and some back chafing from the
over-weight carry-on I was lugging around. Oh, the things we do...<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Week ending 2 weeks out: 82 miles, most of which were on
uneven snow, which really worked all those little connectors. I ended up with
very few miles on technical trails, but the snow was a good substitute for
tiring out those little things that get tired on HURT trails. I kept doing some
uphill treadmill hiking with one or two sessions each week of 60-90 minutes at
15% under 15:00 pace. One 26 miler on uneven packed snow on Jan 1, and 22 miles
of long hill repeats on Jan 3.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aIkRWAuqNcY/VNBCMVUVhpI/AAAAAAAACc0/4C-5lp0ye88/s1600/snow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aIkRWAuqNcY/VNBCMVUVhpI/AAAAAAAACc0/4C-5lp0ye88/s1600/snow.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The weather wasn't HURT-like, but a week of running on uneven snow was great for working all those little stabilizing muscles. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Last 2 weeks: 2 week taper with a 13 mile run the Saturday
before at the MadAss, a speed session, and a hill session. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sauna training throughout. I had also sauna trained for Worlds, so was in good "sauna" shape. I'm a firm believer in spending quality time in the sauna before a hot race. I like to spend about 50 minutes (I escape every 15-20 minutes to shower off and refill water) in a ~180 degree sauna 5-6 days/week. This is a major time suck.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Prior to the race, I looked up my 2011 splits as a frame of
reference. They were 4:24, 4:54, 6:05. My thought was to go out a bit slower
this year, knowing that getting through laps 4 and 5 would be the hardest. My goals had little to do with place this
year. Yes, I’m always hoping to be competitive, and deep down I wanted to win and run a decent time, but I also wanted my
“competitors” to succeed. At HURT is there is
a general sense of camaraderie in terms of trying to keep everyone advancing
forward to kiss the sign, and you really sense it at the pre-race meeting, and aid stations throughout. All ultras have that at some level, but it does feel stronger at HURT to me. The RDs and volunteers genuinely care if you succeed and will go out of their way help you make it happen. My only real goal this year was to kiss that damn
sign, and check HURT off the list of past failures. The women's field was stacked, but I wasn't concerned about how it would all shake out. After DNF’ing at HURT before, finishing
was primary; “racing” was secondary, and in a field of friends, I really just wanted us all to reach our goals. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V6zR0TacYF0/VNAPklW93yI/AAAAAAAACbg/wdrGn4-DmIs/s1600/beach.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V6zR0TacYF0/VNAPklW93yI/AAAAAAAACbg/wdrGn4-DmIs/s1600/beach.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Little D enjoying some Hawaii sun in our matching Julbo shades on a shake-out run on the Pillbox trail. Photo: John Odle.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got to Hawaii on Monday and enjoyed a few days on the
North Shore. I was working, so didn't have much time to explore, but it was a
nice way to get used to the weather, have a change in working environment, and to have that
up-late-packing/early-morning-flight experience several days out from the race.
As much as I travel, I still suck at packing. Wednesday, I moved from the North
Shore down to Kailua for a fun day with Denise and crew before picking up my
crew of Jason and Mikio on Thursday and Friday and a move to Kaneohe. I've
stayed in Waikiki before, and, in general, avoiding Waikiki was the key to
seeing a side of Oahu I really liked. It was fun to see a lot of friends at the
pre-race meeting; the women’s field was a strong one, but more importantly
filled with friends and the out-and-back nature of the course ensured the
opportunity to cheer on friends in passing throughout. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iJAgLi-cXtY/VNBCPBKl9nI/AAAAAAAACdE/EGC5OFkkEhU/s1600/prerace.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iJAgLi-cXtY/VNBCPBKl9nI/AAAAAAAACdE/EGC5OFkkEhU/s1600/prerace.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend, Yukari, who I met at Hasetsune Cup in Japan. She wound up 5th, and another Japanese runner 3rd.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<u>Onto the Race:</u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first loop felt easy; the climbs weren't nearly as steep as my
memory of them, and I didn't feel like I was working too hard. On the first
climb, I quickly found myself in the lead, kind of what I had told myself not
to do, but I felt in control. About half-way down the first descent a female voice greeted me from behind, and assumed it was Kerrie, but then asked (hard to
turn around on these trails without a face-plant) and wasn't surprised to hear
it was Nicola, instead. After a couple minutes, she passed, and floated down the
technical trail like I was standing still, with Jamil Coury. This
continued for the first 2 laps, where I would pass Nicola and Jamil climbing
out of the aid stations, and they would scamper past going down. In my head I’m
a decent downhill runner, and not so strong on uphills, but Nicola schooled me
on the downs, and I felt strong going up. I think my inability to descend technical downhills quickly probably saved my quads from earlier destruction.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wMKENwbQeFo/VNAu5h8XLpI/AAAAAAAACcA/Jm7qsQI6jzs/s1600/HURT%2Bearly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wMKENwbQeFo/VNAu5h8XLpI/AAAAAAAACcA/Jm7qsQI6jzs/s1600/HURT%2Bearly.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming into Nu'uana with Jamil Coury right behind me during the first loop. Jamil got ahead of me in loop 2 or 3, but then we passed him taking a nap on the trail somewhere during the night. Photo: Mikio.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I came
through lap 1 in 4:04, which was a lot faster than I had planned and caused a little alarm, although I felt good. I was still
eating and drinking well, so kept moving well through lap 2, and hooked up with
Sam for the second half of this lap. Nicola was still close, although catching
me closer to the bottoms of the climbs. Sam was really the only person, besides
my pacer, that I spent any significant amount of time with so it was nice to
have someone to talk to for the last half of lap 2. He did remark that he was a
ways ahead of his goal pace, as was I, and would likely suffer later (sorry, Sam). My only fall came in lap 2 coming into
the Nu’uana aid station, and although I face planted, I didn't hit anything
very hard. My biggest fear, after the fall before Worlds and on the other knee in December, was falling on my knee caps. I still have what feel
like Mike and Ikes floating around in there and I didn't think my bursae could
handle it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FltMUQ81Ksw/VNBNUB07VZI/AAAAAAAACeI/q0vqP6zYa-U/s1600/root%2Btangle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FltMUQ81Ksw/VNBNUB07VZI/AAAAAAAACeI/q0vqP6zYa-U/s1600/root%2Btangle.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The classic HURT root shot. What I refer to as the "root tangle up top". This photo I took in 2011, but it hasn't changed; maybe a few more roots. When dry, this section is not horrible. When wet, the roots are slick as snot and not so much fun. You pass through this section what feels like 50 times. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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There is a lot more to HURT than those classic HURT shots of the root tangles up top, but because of the course design, every section you love or hate, you pass 5-10 times. The first time I ran HURT I think I expected it to be 100% covered in roots, so it seemed less technical than I'd feared. This time, it seemed less steep, but more technical than my memory of it. And the steps. There were more than a few occasions when I thanked my parents for giving me tall genes, because there are parts of the course where being 5'2" would be a disadvantage as there are metal-edged steps, which would be waist-high if you were less tall. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W9GBJWSF34k/VNBL63PsN5I/AAAAAAAACdo/axzAb6we-tY/s1600/mikio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W9GBJWSF34k/VNBL63PsN5I/AAAAAAAACdo/axzAb6we-tY/s1600/mikio.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing loop 2 with Mikio ready to help out. My crew was on top of it all day. Photo: Jason. </td></tr>
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Loop 3 was fairly uneventful. Nicola and I started out Loop 3 close together, but I had 15 minutes or so on her by Paradise Park, and then coming out of Nu'uana AS I didn't see another female until I'd been out of the aid station for 45+ minutes, and it wasn't Nicola. I was bummed to later hear she'd dropped, and also bummed to stop seeing some other friends on this loop. That's one of the discouraging parts of HURT--when you stop seeing your friends in passing, and knowing what that means. At some point, I decided I needed a pick-me-up and I turned on my music to try to motivate the pace until I'd have someone to sing to me (Jason had promised to sing me Taylor Swift songs), and I made it in under 5 hours, so was slowing, but the wheels were still attached. </div>
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The wheels came off in the 4th and 5th loops. Picking up Jason was a boost, but as it turns out, I don't know enough Taylor Swift songs to even recognize them, and I made the mistake at Paradise Park AS on the 4th lap to down a ton of liquid calories at once (a combo of miso soup, sprite, and coconut water). I'd been feeling slightly nauseous for several miles, and the past hour of calories (which weren't much) all came back up on the way out of the aid station. After that point I might have consumed 300 calories in the last 33 miles/11 hours. 30 calories an hour isn't
going to get you very far especially when you're in an already-depleted state. I went in feeling a couple pounds heavy, so perhaps I burned off that
extra winter fat during those hours. During loop 5 I got super sleepy and told Jason I needed to listen to music to motivate. I was so tired, that I didn't even notice my shuffle was on repeat and played one MGMT song for over an hour. Jason did, though. :)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qdYUdJjq3ug/VNBRm2DVeAI/AAAAAAAACeU/NIujl3lB7sw/s1600/river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qdYUdJjq3ug/VNBRm2DVeAI/AAAAAAAACeU/NIujl3lB7sw/s1600/river.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loop 5 is all about the "last time." Like, in this case, "the 10th and last time I have to cross this darn river." Photo: Mikio.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9-Ns097__sE/VNBNMj1cKVI/AAAAAAAACeA/j-11wXmussk/s1600/HURT%2Blate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9-Ns097__sE/VNBNMj1cKVI/AAAAAAAACeA/j-11wXmussk/s1600/HURT%2Blate.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the last time I have to go downhill, even mildly. Here, a few minutes from the finish, and descending very delicately. Photo: Mikio. </td></tr>
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The last 2 loops were a calorie-deficient slog, and I felt bad for Jason, but at long last, and well after daylight, we made it up the final climb, and one final painful descent into the Nature Center. My quads were trashed by the last loop, but held up surprisingly well for the lack of long runs and downhill pounding in training. I was decently uphill trained after so much treadmill hiking, but not necessarily the other way around. I could tell my heels were getting trashed, too, but viewing the damage mid-race does little good. Jason tried to motivate me with time goals, but I was cringing with every step, and not that motivate-able. I finished in 26:22, which is a time I'm happy with, and ranks 5th on the all-time list. I do kick myself a bit after-the-fact for having the last 2 laps turn into such a slow slog. I went into the last loop with a 3+ hour lead and I was moving slowly enough that I was worried Alicia would catch me. Luckily the race ended at 100 miles, because she gained a ton of ground on me in the last lap and finished 2nd in 28:10. I'm a little horrified by my splits (4:04, 4:27, 5:00, 6:05, 6:46). Oddly, I more or less stayed in 8th place overall throughout those last 2 laps: Alicia and Eric Purpus were flying on loop 5, but overall, most of the rest of us were crawling. Sometimes it's just about getting done, regardless of whether it's pretty. But now I want sub-25!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TwZ71wk0h84/VNAu6NAVPeI/AAAAAAAACcI/lojXbjoTnGY/s1600/HURT%2Bfinish.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TwZ71wk0h84/VNAu6NAVPeI/AAAAAAAACcI/lojXbjoTnGY/s1600/HURT%2Bfinish.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally, kissing that sign. Photo: Jason. </td></tr>
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The awards for the top 3 male and female finishers at HURT are always something local and hand-crafted, and in its 15-year history, always unique. Had I known that I was racing for a ukulele, my approach to the race might have changed, and I might have choked from the pressure of racing for the coolest award ever--a hand-made concert ukulele made from a koa tree that had fallen near the course made especially for us. Luckily they weren't revealed until the awards banquet. They are beautiful instruments, and I look forward to learning how to play mine. So far, I've only figured out tuning, and Dueling Banjos, but plan to branch out soon. Thanks HURT--you went above above and beyond once again. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Aw7PZUbb6Jk/VNAu4G-ldeI/AAAAAAAACb0/uJoUgkuWlBw/s1600/HURT%2B%2Bpodium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Aw7PZUbb6Jk/VNAu4G-ldeI/AAAAAAAACb0/uJoUgkuWlBw/s1600/HURT%2B%2Bpodium.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top 3 M and F finishers with our ukuleles. Best awards ever. Photo: Bob McAllaster.</td></tr>
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<u>Things that worked for me:</u></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f_HR1NNlono/VNBL4jYXgbI/AAAAAAAACdY/hyLakdzP_do/s1600/jbob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f_HR1NNlono/VNBL4jYXgbI/AAAAAAAACdY/hyLakdzP_do/s1600/jbob.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jason keeps the FB and twitter followers up-to-date on the Oregon contingent. Photo by Mikio.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">1. My crew was awesome. I can tend to look a bit serious/focused
during races (I’m smiling inside, really), and I may have forgotten to
acknowledge their outfits during the race (I expected nothing less, especially because Jason had been looking for a grass skirt since landing, and had Jason not
been in a grass skirt, I would have been surprised). Mikio and Jason were
the best crew one could ask for (not to insult past crews, of course…), and I
hope to return the favor someday. A huge thanks to Mikio and Jason for their super support. They were also a hit on the interwebs and twittersphere with their photos and live reporting. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vUXyjKx1dy8/VNBL4lIp1gI/AAAAAAAACdU/78rz0tsMPRk/s1600/crew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vUXyjKx1dy8/VNBL4lIp1gI/AAAAAAAACdU/78rz0tsMPRk/s1600/crew.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you believe I failed to comment on their attire until after the race? Bad runner! Photo from Jason.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">2. </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">A&D Ointment—the preventative diaper rash ointment (not the curative stuff—the
preventative—A&D makes both). THIS STUFF IS AMAZING. And cheap. And available everywhere. I had zero chafing between my legs, which has
never happened in a 100. A hundred mile issue solved. TRY IT! </span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">3. The Montrail Bajada II</span><span style="text-indent: -24px;">—</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">(or
soon to be) released. I’m lucky to wear the men’s sample size (9) so have
been wearing this shoe for several months. The foam is a little cushier than
previous Bajada models, and the tongue is now gusseted and has lace loops on 2
sides to keep it in place (in the original model it would often slide to the side). Previous
models also had some blowout issues (I never had issues with this) and the
upper has been completely revamped, and is “sleeker”. I love this shoe. Full
disclosure: I did end up with bad heel blisters. But, this all happened after
mile 60. I had zero issues the first 60 miles, and also never once took my
shoes off the entire 100 miles. I double knotted them at the start and didn’t untie them until I
crossed the finish. I stopped eating/drinking the last 40 miles because of
nausea; blisters are linked to hydration issues in my
experience. So, I don’t blame my heels issues on the shoes (or socks), but on the
combo of trench foot that developed from being constantly wet for 100 miles
(sweating heavily) and then dehydration.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T6kSDftQO7w/VNBL-0JwkcI/AAAAAAAACd0/89JDz3zuFRQ/s1600/hurt2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T6kSDftQO7w/VNBL-0JwkcI/AAAAAAAACd0/89JDz3zuFRQ/s1600/hurt2.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bajada II's were great for HURT and are my current favorite shoes. </td></tr>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">4. Injinji </span><span style="text-indent: -24px;">—</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">see above under shoes about heel
blisters; I blame this on hydration issues. So, my heels weren't pretty, but my toes and pedicure were still beach-ready. </span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">5. Clif Recovery drink. I used this for a bulk of
my calories during much of the first 3 laps, which was not necessarily
intended, but it tasted good. I think what I need to work on is getting more
solid food in the first half of a 100 so that there’s something inside me. At
some point it just seems that my stomach is just too empty. I don’t know if
there’s anything to this but when I did start to get sick, there was almost
nothing to throw up. I did focus on real foods in the first lap (was trying to
get down PB&Js), but when it’s hot, I struggle. Every race I say I need to
work on this, so at some point, I need to follow through as nausea starting around mile 60 is the death of me in almost every 100 I've run. The Clif Recovery drink was still going down OK in sips, and I should have been more diligent in getting a bottle down between aid stations.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p3eRlCbxp-I/VNBL6Z5BboI/AAAAAAAACdk/daavnpnQF54/s1600/roots%2Bat%2Bnight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p3eRlCbxp-I/VNBL6Z5BboI/AAAAAAAACdk/daavnpnQF54/s1600/roots%2Bat%2Bnight.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">The roots are still there all night, they just get harder to see. I got very sleepy and very trippy during this part. A bright light helped me manage to stay awake and never quite fall despite about 50 toe clips.Photo: Jason.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">6. Lights: The only thing I put some time into planning out pre-HURT was my lighting plan. My plan worked out well (I borrowed lights and switched them out every aid station), with some user error thrown in. For HURT you want the brightest thing out there, and want it on high, so be prepared to switch it out every couple of hours, which means every aid station at HURT at night (unless you're still running 4:30 laps--I wasn't). My one failure in this regard was that I'd never even turned on one of the lights, and didn't know how to work it. Of the lights I tried out (I had an arsenal), the Petzl NAO was the brightest. I still prefer the Petzl Tikka RXP, in general, because it's super bright, lasts much longer, and is less weight, but on HURT trails, it pays to have a NAO, but take a few extra NAO batteries and switch them frequently. Because you spend so much time staring intently at the rooty trails all day and night, my eyes got really tired, and the brighter the light, the more awake I stayed. </span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">7. Sauna training: HURT was hot and I was soaked by mile 2, but the heat never really bothered me, besides maybe not helping on the nutrition front. I spent a lot of quality time in the sauna (and also used an ice bandana, which helped both with cooling and possibly the trench foot issues). </span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">8. Uphill hiking on the treadmill: Even though there are lots of long climbs around Bend, I really like uphill hiking on the treadmill. Walking at 15% grade at a quick pace--I often do 14:38 (4.1 mph) or 14:17 (4.2 mph) pace--for 4 - 6 miles is a great way to get ready to hike uphill quickly in races. When I go out on long runs, I never end up hiking much (I use a mix of running/hiking), and doing a dedicated hiking workout on the treadmill is a great way to practice hiking quickly for an extended period. I often get into an ultra, and find myself hiking and think, "Why don't I practice this?" I hiked more for HURT than I have for any other race, in part because I couldn't run in early December because of my clicking knee, but could still hike on the treadmill. </span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said I wanted to check HURT off the list and get my finish
and never go back, but I can’t say that there isn't already a part of me that wants to
end up in Hawaii next January and work on a more evenly split race. If I don’t end up racing next year, I may just
learn enough on the ukulele to provide some on-course entertainment during
the late night hours, hanging out somewhere up in the root tangle on top playing dueling ukuleles. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LmJu0NP2C0E/VNBVuS8ziwI/AAAAAAAACeg/I_BPkzWZlsU/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LmJu0NP2C0E/VNBVuS8ziwI/AAAAAAAACeg/I_BPkzWZlsU/s1600/photo.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful ukulele! Or, just a way to sneak in a photo of Sam, who is also quite pretty. </td></tr>
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As always, thanks to my amazing sponsors: Montrail, Mountain Hardwear, Injinji, Clif Bar, Julbo, and Nuun for the support! </div>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-56358621619387382512014-11-21T04:48:00.001-05:002014-12-02T14:24:58.971-05:00Hasetsune Cup 2014 (and 2013)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I understand why I don't blog with any frequency. Blog posts don't need to be books, but alas, here's another chapter:<br />
<br />
About two miles into <a href="http://hasetsune.com/">Hasetsune</a>, I was worried as I
looked up at the first vertical wall of a climb. From last year, I remembered
that Hasetsune was really tough, but I’ve never run a race two years in a row
where I remembered so little about the course. Shortly before the start of the race, I turned
to Max and told him that the hardest part of the course was from kilometers
30-55, and that the first 30K was” runnable.” The first statement is likely true, although
it’s hard to differentiate between the first 30K and the section from 30 – 55,
or from 55 – 71.5. The first kilometer downhill through town is fast, but this
quickly transitions into a climb for a couple of kilometers, and then,
abruptly, to the first of many steep climbs—hands-on-knees steep. I looked up the
first one, about 2 miles in, and at the long line of racers in front of me hiking, and my
first thought was, “Max is going to kick my ass.” This first ascent still
wasn't enough to jog my recollection of the climbs to come. In the first "runnable" 30K the climbs were relentless. Last year must have
been so painful that I simply blocked out the memory of it, as this year it
was like running the first half of the course for the very first time. At every hill I thought to myself, “You've
got to be kidding me.” Followed closely by, “Max is going to kick my ass.”</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XQKxlmg6Olc/VESnt3z93WI/AAAAAAAACWs/oBZAGSpfT94/s1600/max.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XQKxlmg6Olc/VESnt3z93WI/AAAAAAAACWs/oBZAGSpfT94/s1600/max.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See just how mad Max was? </td></tr>
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While races without aid are not unheard of in the US (Plain
100, as an example), the set-up of Hasetsune is. Whereas Plain 100 has no aid,
it also has little support on course, and no crowds of supporters, some dressed up in Mini Mouse costumes, shouting encouragement along the way. Hasetsune, in its 22<sup>nd</sup>
year, is a big event in Japan; the 2,500 spots fill almost instantly online.
The logistical support is high—in that there are many volunteers involved and a
good amount of fan support along the way. It’s not like you see people the
entire way, as you're usually enveloped in dense forest, but you do pass a handful of checkpoints where folks are out
cheering, and also spots on the trail with volunteers taking down numbers. The
course is impeccably marked with white signs (all in Japanese), and red arrows. Last year I did get slightly off course when
I followed an errant sign to a shrine, but this year, I used common sense and
followed all signs of the same size, color, and not made of wood (the permanent trail/tourist signs). Once
it gets dark there are red blinking lights (like the kind you’d use as a rear
light on a bike), that were spaced frequently enough to rarely doubt
whether you're on course. Aid is minimal, in that they allow you just 1.5 L of fluid (water or sports drink) at the 2nd of 3 major check points. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ru-o8PCaj5g/VG5Tkk6Rv1I/AAAAAAAACYE/Rpv_A3e60gc/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ru-o8PCaj5g/VG5Tkk6Rv1I/AAAAAAAACYE/Rpv_A3e60gc/s1600/photo.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wee exaggeration but if all the other signs are on laminated white paper, following a random wooden sign 60 Km in is a bad idea. </td></tr>
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Studying the course profile of Hasetsune is deceptive. It
looks like an undulating gradual climb up to a couple of peaks, and then a gradual descent to the finish.
This isn't what the course feels like or is actually like. While there are peaks, the continual
short steep ups and downs make it hard to know which are the peaks and which
are just part of the incessant zig-zagging up and down. Most climbs aren't super long, but it's almost all up and down. Over the 71.5 Km course, there's over 30,000 feet of ascent and descent, which equates to almost 700 feet/mile. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-puWMUznhy_4/VG5EpcekGkI/AAAAAAAACXI/cmOKSI6Z3sk/s1600/group%2Bprerace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-puWMUznhy_4/VG5EpcekGkI/AAAAAAAACXI/cmOKSI6Z3sk/s1600/group%2Bprerace.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Montrail/Mountain Hardwear Japan-U.S. in a rainbow of colors at the start. Photo by Sho Fujimaki.</td></tr>
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Last year’s race was a challenge for me for different
reasons than this year’s. I was fitter last year, after racing well at Western
States and training for hills through the summer for UTMB. Despite a
disappointing UTMB, my DNF wasn't for lack of fitness. I’d done a lot of hill
work. However, a work training I was co-facilitating the week before Hasetsune made it so that I couldn't
arrive until Friday late afternoon, and I didn’t sleep well Friday or Saturday
nights before the Sunday start. The technical nature of the course dictates
that a lot of concentration is required to stay upright, and for me, the
combination of jet lag, poor sleep, and tired eyes made for a very sleepy Amy
once the sun went down. The race starts at 1:00 on Sunday afternoon (Monday is
a holiday), so that everyone gets the nighttime running experience. It gets
dark around 5:30, which means that for all but the fastest, at least half of
the race will be run in the dark. So, for the last 40 Km, I struggled to stay awake.
It was also a bit warmer last year, and I ran out of fluids long before
Checkpoint 2 (43 Km), where they allow you 1.5 liters of water or sports drink.
Last year I led through about half-way,
to be passed by 4 women, but rallied late to finish third in 9:44. I felt like
I disappointed the Montrail/MHW hosts, and myself, but it wasn't a
complete train wreck, just not quite what I'd hoped due to some very sleepy miles. After last year I
wanted to come back, focus on more specific hill training, and stay awake the
entire race. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, the injury that turned Comrades into a long hike kept
me out for almost 2 months this summer. Having suffering a fairly
significant (1.8 cm) tear to my semimembranous tendon attachment (one of the
hamstrings), I only began running again around August 1. I worked
diligently all summer doing physical therapy, without feeling like it was
healing, but a PRP (platelet rich plasma) injection the end of July really seemed to
be the thing that helped it turn the corner. Trying to be smart, I eased back
into running keeping my mileage quite low through August, and into September
only got up above 50 miles once or twice going into Hasetsune on Oct 12. I was
definitely not where I wanted to be, but I’d committed to the race months
before, and the carrot out there of a Japan race in October had given my start
back into training a goal on which to focus. And despite being polar opposites, I wanted to race prior to the World 100K Championships and this seemed like a good distance option, as it would also build confidence as a long run, and (hopefully) more time on my feet than will be required at the 100K.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JNxyPZYDoaY/VG5P0QyZUdI/AAAAAAAACXg/m9zkPGo060c/s1600/eth%2Brunning.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JNxyPZYDoaY/VG5P0QyZUdI/AAAAAAAACXg/m9zkPGo060c/s1600/eth%2Brunning.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running near Yaya Village up in the hills above Addis. Really interesting glimpse into some aspects of how/where Ethiopians train.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In addition to injury, sometimes life gets in the way, and besides the injury, work and life has been hectic.
I decided to move to Bend, OR at some point over the summer and found a house to buy in early September. Between September 11 and Hasetsune on Oct 12, I had a 3-week work
trip to Ethiopia, 5 days back home to close on the Bend house, a couple of
days at work back in Portland, and then turn around and leave for Japan. I can't complain though, because Ethiopia is one
of my favorite places to go for work. Addis Ababa is set at 7500 feet, and work permitted me stay at a high altitude training center, Yaya Athletes Village, so I was able to enjoy early morning runs up around 9000 feet in the peaceful hills above
Addis, “long” runs on the weekends (my long runs were never as long as I
intended—I topped out at 17 miles, but 17 miles at 9,000 feet felt like a lot
more to me), and had the luxury of a decent gym, which is not always the case
in the places work takes me. So, I had a decent 3-weeks of training in Ethiopia. And, Ethiopia is just a cool place to visit. I also got to spend a few days in Jijiga, and surrounding communities, near the Somalian border (couldn't run there), but a cool experience, regardless, and a good reminder of why I love my real job.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sIA5sYF0HpU/VG5Px3qDAwI/AAAAAAAACXY/m4qob3QiySA/s1600/eth%2Bgoat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sIA5sYF0HpU/VG5Px3qDAwI/AAAAAAAACXY/m4qob3QiySA/s1600/eth%2Bgoat.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute little goat herder we came across while out on the run. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
During my few days back in Portland, I had one particularly good run with the Tuesday night group, that left me feeling oddly confident. It wasn't anything special, we just ran up Leif the way we always run up Leif, and I even bailed when they jumped on the trail to head back and cut the run short, but I felt strong and fluid, like I hadn't felt in months, and felt like I was really running again. Perhaps that one run was enough
to convince myself that I was strong enough to tackle Hasetsune. The missing links were long runs (since June 1, I’d done one 20+ mile run in the
Enchantments in August, a 26 mile run in Bend in September, and then one 17
mile run in Ethiopia. 3 long runs in 4 months), decent weekly mileage, and any steep hill training, but it’s all I had. I focused on believing that running is 90% mental.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Max and I arrived in Japan on Thursday, and spent Friday
doing interviews at the Tokyo Columbia/MHW/Montrail office for Japan trail running
magazines and websites. The trail scene
in Japan is a vibrant one, and growing, probably similar to the growth seen
here in the US in recent years. I’ve had the chance to meet the MHW/Montrail
team on 3 visits to Japan in the past 2 years, and they are fabulous hosts.
Montrail is the number one trail brand in Japan, with the Bajada being the
number one seller, so an interesting difference from the market here in the
states. <o:p></o:p></div>
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One of the websites, DogsorCaravan, prides itself on being a
Japanese version of iRunfar, down to the style of pre-race interview. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-294EVzhefUU/VG5QleOBbKI/AAAAAAAACXo/QdxIKGNiEfQ/s1600/interview%2Bcats.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-294EVzhefUU/VG5QleOBbKI/AAAAAAAACXo/QdxIKGNiEfQ/s1600/interview%2Bcats.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max was happy to come across so many cats in Japan, this during some interviews in the Columbia office.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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My pre-race plan was to start out a bit slower than last
year in hopes of a stronger middle section. Time-wise, my training had been
nowhere near where it had been last year, so I was hoping for a similar time if
I had a good day, taking into account last year’s struggles. I tried to remind
myself that muscle memory is a grand thing, and that ultra-distance races are
as much mental as physical. The last thing I’d done before I’d gone to bed
Saturday night was to check my splits from 2013, so I’d know roughly where I
wanted to be. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dWtHDZGNdZ8/VG5TCZVCElI/AAAAAAAACX0/6gupHLabQco/s1600/race%2Bstart.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dWtHDZGNdZ8/VG5TCZVCElI/AAAAAAAACX0/6gupHLabQco/s1600/race%2Bstart.JPG" height="400" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The start. Note the creative and colorful use of KT tape. Very popular in Japan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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I felt like I started out controlled, but came into the
first major check point at 3:00, 3 minutes faster than 2013. Likewise, I hit the
next major check point (and water stop) at 42'ishK about 5 minutes faster than my 2013
split, and without running quite as dry as I had in 2013. The weather was warm
at the start, but cooler than 2013, which also helped on the hydration piece,
which is one of the challenges at Hasetsune—carrying enough to make it more
than half-way without a chance to refill (each person is allotted 1.5L of water
or sports drink), on a course that is going to take 9+ hours to finish. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A typhoon was on the way, and heavy rain was expected
starting on Monday morning, but held off for many of us. Hasetsune has a 24 hour cutoff (yes, for just 71.5 Km, but this course is tough and many finish close to the cutoffs). The 2014 edition was much
foggier than 2013, and visibility up top was a challenge at times once the sun
went down, about 4.5 hours in. I used my Petzl Tikka RXP, which has the
reactive lighting technology, and then a one AA hand-held Fenix. I love the
Tikka, but in fog, no headlight is ideal, and the handheld was key in filling
in the light from below. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kAmbubfPQlE/VG5UMQkE0XI/AAAAAAAACYQ/b3nLHg4r9Vs/s1600/woods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kAmbubfPQlE/VG5UMQkE0XI/AAAAAAAACYQ/b3nLHg4r9Vs/s1600/woods.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere early on. Photo by DogsorCaravan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, while I assumed I would be slower than last year based on fitness, I guess it goes to show you that muscle memory is a great thing, and that ultra races are, indeed, often as much about your mental place as your physical. I went into the race with somewhat lowered expectations, but ready to accept what the day gave me, and that I shouldn't count myself out at the start. I surprised myself and felt relatively good for much of the race. It was hard, but my quads didn't die, and I was able to run faster than 2013 even in the earlier sections. I often feel that ultra runners, as a bunch are often over-raced or over-trained, so perhaps there's something to be said for years of experience and the benefit of a couple of months off (usually forced by injury, but injuries may be the key to mentally recharging us) to refresh and re-energize.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-66NgkP-MyQ8/VG8Gexgm3RI/AAAAAAAACZk/U7-6dW9gSDU/s1600/early%2Baid%2Bstation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-66NgkP-MyQ8/VG8Gexgm3RI/AAAAAAAACZk/U7-6dW9gSDU/s1600/early%2Baid%2Bstation.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Supporters cheering at Checkpoint 1. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Like last year, and as I mentioned to Max, for me the hardest part of this course does come after the water stop, namely on the last big steep descent following the last steep climb that includes some chains. I kept waiting for the chain section, but each chain-less climb helped indicate that there was a least one steep final climb to go (the chains are attached for hikers to hang on to). It's a super rocky section, that I would struggle to hike down without falling, and I always pussy-foot my way down it, and watch at least a few guys scamper past. I'm not sure how much I could improve on this section, as it's just not my cup of tea. Where I do think I could improve is in just ascending faster, as this is a section that one can train specifically for, and for which I hadn't trained. Despite my lack of steep hill training (both up and down), I didn't struggle on the downs, except in the super-technical sections, and that wasn't a quad issue, but a fear and agility issue.<br />
<br />
Relieved, I finally passed the natural spring (another place on the course to get water, but being in the last section of the race, is nice, but not entirely helpful if you're already dehydrated by that point. It does indicate that you're approaching the 3rd major checkpoint, and from there is the "easiest" part of Hasetsune, which is mainly downhill, but also with some flat and steep ups, that remind you that you are still at Hasetsune, a race that keeps on giving.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QLUC9lN1Nqw/VG8AWMvV8HI/AAAAAAAACYg/wVvXO2Iec7w/s1600/night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QLUC9lN1Nqw/VG8AWMvV8HI/AAAAAAAACYg/wVvXO2Iec7w/s1600/night.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the final 10K or so, you do pass through a couple of small communities as you head back to finish from where you started. Single loop courses have always had a strong appeal to me. Photo by DogsorCaravan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Throughout the race I had no idea how far behind me the 2nd place woman was. I'd seen a couple of women in the first mile of the race, which might have spurred my faster-than-intended start. There was a lot of chatter in aid stations, but being all in Japanese, I had no idea what was being said. The last section seemed not as gloriously downhill as last year, but I remembered more of this part from last year than previous, and while it does seem to go on forever, there is comfort in knowing that your'e eventually going to be spit out in town and a couple of blocks from the finish. I did finally find the finish, in 9:31:18, faster than my 9:44:47 from last year. After struggling all summer with injury, and sub-optimal training in August and September, I was thrilled with my finish. Second place (福田 由香理) was not far behind in 9:35:50, and 3rd (江田 良子) in 9:49:29. Full results are <a href="http://www.hasetsune.com/result/cup_2014.html">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-__mvER2EQIE/VG8BaCKIR_I/AAAAAAAACYs/wQ-OAVpDtEI/s1600/hasetsune%2Bfinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-__mvER2EQIE/VG8BaCKIR_I/AAAAAAAACYs/wQ-OAVpDtEI/s1600/hasetsune%2Bfinish.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First female and thrilled to be back racing. Photo by DogsorCaravan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-njb6VLe3UEA/VG8Gs2_d2hI/AAAAAAAACZ8/a9Q4nGfIWh0/s1600/finish%2Bw%2Bmyoki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-njb6VLe3UEA/VG8Gs2_d2hI/AAAAAAAACZ8/a9Q4nGfIWh0/s1600/finish%2Bw%2Bmyoki.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy to be done and to be greeted by friends at the finish. Photo by DogsorCaravan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Max's first comment to me after the race was along the lines of "WTF?", but Max has not, in fact, attempted to kick my ass. We
did laugh about it afterwards (I was laughing....he was sort of laughing). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the men’s side, Ruy Ueda crushed the course record from
last year ( 7:19), almost getting in under 7:00 at 7:01. I met Ruy briefly at
the Shibamata 100K in June of last year. His first ultra, he came in behind
Meghan and me by a ways. I believe he met the Montrail/MHW folks who had come
out to watch me at that race, and was on the team by last year’s Hasetsune
where he was 6<sup>th</sup>. Still in his first year and a half of ultras, Ruy
is 21 and has a super bright future in front of him. Like Max, he likes to mix
things up, and is as likely to jump on the track for a 10K as run a technical
mountain race. He’s definitely one to watch on the ultra circuit in the coming
years. Setting the Hasetsune course record is a huge deal in Japan, probably
much like setting a record at Western States in the US. Ruy wants to come race
in the US in the spring, and I can’t wait to see how he lines up against a
competitive US field. Another Montrail/MHW team member, Shuko, was 3<sup>rd</sup>,
and Max was 8<sup>th</sup>, which was good for a team win.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TVKx_XLSFlk/VG5TYJnewEI/AAAAAAAACX8/-1rm3jQjuKI/s1600/hasetsune%2Bcups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TVKx_XLSFlk/VG5TYJnewEI/AAAAAAAACX8/-1rm3jQjuKI/s1600/hasetsune%2Bcups.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Montrail won all 3 Hasetsune Cups. Men's, Women's and Team. Photo by Sho Fujimaki.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W2BBVEp5uuo/VG8GhHjapiI/AAAAAAAACZs/1K80d9hkAgI/s1600/awards.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W2BBVEp5uuo/VG8GhHjapiI/AAAAAAAACZs/1K80d9hkAgI/s1600/awards.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top 5 women. I'm big in the U.S., but I'm a giant in Japan. Photo from my iPhone.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would like to do this race again, and like I said last
year, to train more specifically, namely include some steep hands-on-knees
hiking, and just more vertical. I’d like to break 9 hours on this course, or at
get in the vicinity. After the race I looked up past times, just to see who holds the course record. The women’s course record is 8:54, set by one of Japan’s top
ultrarunners, Norimi Sakurai, who has won Hasetsune 5 times (in addition to the 2007 IAU 100K
world championships in 7:00, and holds track world records in both the 100K and
6-hour). Definitely not an "easy" record to go after, but one I would merely like to get closer to, and see if I'm capable of getting close to the 9-hour mark. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
As always, thanks to my sponsors, and especially Montrail and Mountain Hardwear. The Montrail/Mountain Hardwear staff and team in Japan have been wonderful hosts to me on my visits to Japan. I can't thank them enough. And to Clif Bar, Injinji, Flora and Nuun for their continued support. To all of the Japan Montrail/MHW teammates, but also to Max King who was an awesome travel companion. Max has a lot of fans out there and for good reason--he's a really nice guy. I'm a fan, too, despite his comments about cats. On a gear note, I wore the Spring 2015 Bajadas for this race and I love these shoes. They improve on the current Bajada, and have some significant improvements (tongue, upper, foam) that make them a shoe I would wear in any trail race.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9XgwZy0a5gU/VG8GjaJ1EDI/AAAAAAAACZ0/z5SYSMLQyLU/s1600/bajada.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9XgwZy0a5gU/VG8GjaJ1EDI/AAAAAAAACZ0/z5SYSMLQyLU/s1600/bajada.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Spring 2015 Montrail Bajada. Love it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And a few more photos from the trip:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PpE4IzG2z6Q/VG8Ezjt0n1I/AAAAAAAACY4/m3odPGXfnr8/s1600/shrine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PpE4IzG2z6Q/VG8Ezjt0n1I/AAAAAAAACY4/m3odPGXfnr8/s1600/shrine.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere famous....A shrine near the hotel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dqdGjYmv3c4/VG8E0lx0xFI/AAAAAAAACZA/N65aInest90/s1600/tokyo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dqdGjYmv3c4/VG8E0lx0xFI/AAAAAAAACZA/N65aInest90/s1600/tokyo.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our hotel in Tokyo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ql8Ox-hTryw/VG8E28Vg9kI/AAAAAAAACZI/gK8qWWcZNPg/s1600/sake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ql8Ox-hTryw/VG8E28Vg9kI/AAAAAAAACZI/gK8qWWcZNPg/s1600/sake.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barrels of sake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CbU5-UDtZ4Q/VG8E4GO913I/AAAAAAAACZQ/EuqWWCU7Ko0/s1600/food.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CbU5-UDtZ4Q/VG8E4GO913I/AAAAAAAACZQ/EuqWWCU7Ko0/s1600/food.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Food is always an adventure in Japan. We had some amazing meals (luckily this was not part of one). </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-76Hk9CTnBlw/VG8E6DM_SmI/AAAAAAAACZY/9FHKEW14pp0/s1600/grp%2Bdinner.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-76Hk9CTnBlw/VG8E6DM_SmI/AAAAAAAACZY/9FHKEW14pp0/s1600/grp%2Bdinner.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last night in Tokyo. With Tomo, me, Max, and Daigo.</td></tr>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com46tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-82433669252047883162014-09-11T17:00:00.001-04:002014-09-11T17:37:06.919-04:00Patagonia Run 2014: A Sparkling Argentinian Hellgate<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In an interview recently, someone asked me what my 2014 highlight was to date, and Patagonia Run 100K was definitely it. Injury and lots of life stresses have taken control over the last few months, but before I head out of the country again (3 weeks in Ethiopia for work), close on a house in Bend, OR, head out of the country again (Japan for a race), move to Bend, and then head out of the country again (Doha for the World 100K) all before Thanksgiving, here's my race report on the Patagonia Run 100K.<br />
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I was signed up to run Lake Sonoma in April, but then was invited to run the Patagonia Run 100K near San Martin de los Andes, Argentina on April 12. California or Patagonia? I couldn't pass up an opportunity to return to a region of the world I love. If you've followed my blog or actually know me, you might know that I have a soft spot in my heart for South America, especially what is considered to be the southern cone (Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Paraguay and Uruguay). So, when this invite came to return to Patagonia, even though I'd just been down there in February to race El Cruce near Puerto Varas, Chile, I jumped at the chance. Like Puerto Varas, I had also visited San Martin de los Andes back in 2003 while traveling home to the US after 3+ years in Paraguay. Being back there further reinforced just how much I love that part of the world, and how very lucky I am to have these opportunities to do what I love: travel to amazing places and explore those places on foot. Plus I'd run Lake Sonoma the year prior, and with Comrades and Western States on the horizon, didn't necessarily need another high profile race to freak out about.<br />
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With over 2000 racers divided among 6 race distances (10K, 21K, 42K, 63K, 83K, 100K), the Patagonia Run offers something for everyone. The races start near and finish in San Martin de los Andes, a town in the Patagonian lake district; a 2-hour flight and 3-hour drive from Buenos Aires. I was surprised to see how many people had actually flown in from Buenos Aires just to race a 10K, although San Martin is a tourism destination, and I might do the same in the US to spend a lovely fall weekend away. I had been invited to run the 100K (actually 103K or 64 miles), which had about 400 entrants and started at midnight on Friday, much like one of my favorite races, the Hellgate 100K++, held each December in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Like is often the case at Hellgate, the Patagonia Run was shaping up to be a cold one, with temps around freezing, the potential for precipitation, and plenty of river crossings to keep the feet frozen. Conditions I sort of look forward to.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2vkfbuJcv1M/U4efTL-TkTI/AAAAAAAACSk/iMVVwT2fC2o/s1600/patagonia+drive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2vkfbuJcv1M/U4efTL-TkTI/AAAAAAAACSk/iMVVwT2fC2o/s1600/patagonia+drive.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View out the bus window on the drive from Bariloche to San Martin de los Andes. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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Getting to San Martin from Portland was fairly painless, or as painless as a 30-hour trip can be. I lucked into an empty middle row on the long Atlanta - Buenos Aires leg, which made the entire journey that much more pleasant and allowed me to stretch out and sleep, so after 3 flights, and a 3-hour drive from Bariloche, I arrived in San Martin on Wednesday evening feeling pretty rested. After a shake-out run and dinner, I slept hard. Thursday was filled with registration, a radio appearance, interviews, and a group run, and wasn't the day of lounging around that I had envisioned. The group run took us up to a look-out over Lake Lacar--the large lake upon which San Martin sits. While on the run, I quickly recognized it was a run I had done 11 years before when I'd stayed in San Martin while traveling home after Peace Corps. Talk about deja vu. Being in San Martin brought back a flood of memories from that trip that I'd all but forgotten. I'd been traveling with an Israeli guy I'd met on a barge in Chile, and as different as we were (he'd grown up on a kibbutz in Israel and worked as a horse therapist), we spent a fun few weeks traveling together. The post-PC trip through Patagonia and beyond was a great 2 month trip, that I easily could have extended into years, and love to continue building upon, even if years later.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hEdsAUX6C-Q/U4ea3In4LhI/AAAAAAAACRI/IO_0xE2hi0E/s1600/patagonia+group+run.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hEdsAUX6C-Q/U4ea3In4LhI/AAAAAAAACRI/IO_0xE2hi0E/s1600/patagonia+group+run.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Group run to a view point looking out over Lake Lacar. Photo: my phone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LHSN-kaFHO8/U4ebDfzSgBI/AAAAAAAACSU/WRU_iRxJyOY/s1600/patagonia+w+mauri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LHSN-kaFHO8/U4ebDfzSgBI/AAAAAAAACSU/WRU_iRxJyOY/s1600/patagonia+w+mauri.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I failed miserably in my bad self portrait series last year, so am working hard this year in order to catch up in time to put out the worst selfies of the year summary at the end of the year. Although seriously, I was taking selfies long before it was mainstream. This is a good one though, and I've got some other winners hidden away. Mauri, pictured here, took good care of us in Chile, and it was fun to connect with him again. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LI3ngfqcGAk/U4ea34cRmSI/AAAAAAAACRM/ARaiBXHQgig/s1600/patagonia+lake+lacar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LI3ngfqcGAk/U4ea34cRmSI/AAAAAAAACRM/ARaiBXHQgig/s1600/patagonia+lake+lacar.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The same view, just without the group blocking it. Amazing how standing in a spot you've known before, but forgotten, can bring back so many memories. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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Thursday and Friday went by too quickly, and the planned nap time and relaxation seemed to be consumed by registration, pre-race organizational details (drop bags, etc.), interviews, radio programs, group lunches, finishing up a write-up from El Cruce (I like to tie up one race before beginning another, and writing about them seems to do that in my mind, although I've failed in this case), and, in general, not much down time. Midnight starts are hard, in that it's not like an early morning start where you get a shortened night's sleep the night prior; you can hope for a nap during the day, but at some point during the race, the up-all-night feeling is bound to set in. That said, I've done one midnight start prior at Hellgate in 2011, had a great race there and loved the midnight start. Several times in the days leading up to the race I was asked about my thoughts about the start, and each time I talked about it being my favorite race format, because after running for so long in the dark, the sunrise fills you with energy and a renewed sense of purpose. I was hoping this would be true the second time around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SeUcVl9vZ5U/U4ea5c0RhEI/AAAAAAAACRc/ZMMjyyYcWsE/s1600/patagonia+radio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SeUcVl9vZ5U/U4ea5c0RhEI/AAAAAAAACRc/ZMMjyyYcWsE/s1600/patagonia+radio.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-race interview and mate drinking session with Factor Running, a radio show from Buenos Aires. Photo: GuiaKmZero.com.</td></tr>
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I did several interviews in Spanish, and like to think that people can understand me, but there was the one guy, who after hearing me speak, asked to conduct the interview in Spanish but that I should answer in English saying it would be better for all of us. Confidence shattered! Alas, most people humored me, and let me babble along in Spanish and seemed to understand what I was trying to say.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ex4j3_CYzCU/U4ea62FLWSI/AAAAAAAACRo/z7dhV7e9TiA/s1600/patagonia+selfie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ex4j3_CYzCU/U4ea62FLWSI/AAAAAAAACRo/z7dhV7e9TiA/s1600/patagonia+selfie.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I usually reserve this pose for Hal, but it's hard to resist a double selfie. Photo: me. :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UM5QHvzcQcc/U4W-jJUQ5GI/AAAAAAAACQQ/PbdXY9P9CmE/s1600/Patagonia+interview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UM5QHvzcQcc/U4W-jJUQ5GI/AAAAAAAACQQ/PbdXY9P9CmE/s1600/Patagonia+interview.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doing my best to make sense during an interview. I love trying to communicate in Spanish, even if what I say may not completely convey what I think I'm saying. Photo by Alee Bazan.</td></tr>
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I got a solid 8 hours of sleep both Wednesday and Thursday, but wasn't able to nap. I attempted to nap several times on Friday between 6 - 10 p.m., without actually falling asleep. I'm generally pretty good at napping, especially when kittens are involved, but I'm not good at forced naps when I feel like I should be sleeping, and the more I pleaded with myself to fall asleep, the less chance there was. So, I finally jumped out of bed at 10 p.m. hoping I wasn't screwed. Memories of Hasetsune Cup in Japan last October came to mind, where I start nodding off as soon as the sun went down, after a similar mid-week travel schedule. I already felt sleepy, and I was destined to be up for another day, so I made a quick decision to go with Nuun Energy in my bladder for an added caffeine boost. I had yet to try Nuun Energy, but my stomach typically handles caffeine without issue, and figured it couldn't hurt to try. Falling asleep on the run is no fun.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9i1z_gEQFq8/VA-jpk4plbI/AAAAAAAACV8/VYgJJljiWvg/s1600/gnocchi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9i1z_gEQFq8/VA-jpk4plbI/AAAAAAAACV8/VYgJJljiWvg/s1600/gnocchi.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I may not have gotten any sleep, but I did find gnocchi for my pre-race lunch. Gnocchi is one of 3 pre-race superstitions that I try not to go without. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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For El Cruce (the stage race I'd done in February in Chile) there had been a long mandatory gear list, which included an emergency bivy sack and blanket, among several other items. Despite being much longer, colder, and run in the dark, Patagonia Run had a pleasantly short mandatory list, which included the race shirt, an emergency whistle, and a headlamp, which had to be on until 8 a.m. (I tried to turn it off in one aid station to avoid blinding the aid station volunteers, but was immediately reprimanded to keep my light on, so just kept blinding people the full 8 required hours). I wore one headlamp, and opted to place a second in a drop bag at Km 33, and then had my favorite small handheld for an emergency/second light. 8 hours is a long time to run in the dark, so opted for a switch to keep my light source super bright, which would also help keep me awake. I started with a Petzl Myo RXP and then switched to my new Petzl Tikka+. Even though they told us the sun would rise at 8, I had slept in both mornings, and hadn't witnessed it for myself. I still had my doubts, as that seemed really late, but there was truly not enough light to switch lights off until right after 8 a.m. Thus, two thirds of my race was run in the dark. I've got to give a shout out to Petzl and the new Tikka+. I'm sometimes amazed by how good lights have gotten, and this one is both bright, and the reactive lighting works.<br />
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Most races have a race shirt, but in the US you usually just receive it in your shwag bag, or get it as a finishing prize, whereas in South America you're often actually required to race in it. In this case it was a long-sleeve tech tee. Luckily the temps were at freezing or below, so it was never uncomfortable. Kind of reminds me of school field trips where the teacher decides to dress everyone the same so as not to lose anyone and to be able to identify who's part of the group.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d8RI5qwsZVI/U4ea6kiuR6I/AAAAAAAACRk/vCjmfWAw_R4/s1600/patagonia+run+profile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d8RI5qwsZVI/U4ea6kiuR6I/AAAAAAAACRk/vCjmfWAw_R4/s1600/patagonia+run+profile.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The course map and elevation profile. Basically two big climbs with some runnable middle and end sections thrown in. It was dark for me until just before the aid station indicated in red on the map, so any photos are from the climb up and top of that pointy peak after that. </td></tr>
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The rain cleared in the hours just preceding
the midnight start and we lucked into a starry and frozen night. The rain in
the days prior, followed by freezing temps resulted in a frost-covered
wonderland. For the first eight hours, it was though we were running in a world
covered in glitter. It was gorgeous. A few inches of snow up on the ridges, led
to an overall bright and beautiful night. Every blade of grass was covered in frost, and it made for a memorable and super sparkly run. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VPkz9oUlT68/VA-iJ1cZRzI/AAAAAAAACVI/ioCY4l8uAP4/s1600/start.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VPkz9oUlT68/VA-iJ1cZRzI/AAAAAAAACVI/ioCY4l8uAP4/s1600/start.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xPx_X1tBqrM/VA-iJ_-qPAI/AAAAAAAACVE/FpbdPTgU0I4/s1600/start2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xPx_X1tBqrM/VA-iJ_-qPAI/AAAAAAAACVE/FpbdPTgU0I4/s1600/start2.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photos at the start. Note, how warmly everyone is dressed and the matching shirts. Photos: de Adventura.</td></tr>
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The race started out briefly on road, winding on to dirt
paths and back onto a wide dirt road, which gave some space to get around
people, and spread out a bit. Sadly, I followed my new buddy, Enrique from
Ecuador, and with a group of four or so of us, we all blew by a left-hand turn up
onto single track. The course was impeccably marked throughout, but I'd argue this early intersection could have benefited from a volunteer indicating the way, or flagging to block off the road and clearly indicate the turn. We dead-ended at a gate, and quickly turned around and
headed back in the other direction. This was about 10 minutes in, and although
we probably only ran a quarter mile past the turn, it resulted in another
several dozen people making the turn in front of us. We saw the now obvious turn onto the trail as many had followed us, and when they saw us heading back, turned back before us, and a queue formed when both groups merged onto the trail. This resulted in a few miles of frustration, as the pace was not what we wanted, so we tried to dart out and around people, but the trail was a narrow cut with banks and vegetation
on either edge, and I’d estimate that the half mile detour resulted in losing a good 20 minutes plus in wasted energy trying to get around a major bottleneck of runners on the
trail.<br />
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The cluster cleared, and I was eventually again running with a small group of guys, and seemed to have passed back any women that had gotten ahead in the misdirection. I felt good, but then as we started to run up the road, suddenly felt deflated, maybe from the wind sprints in trying to pass in the section before. So, I meandered along on my own. I'd heard from many that the course was not technical, and for the most part this was true, but the trails were also not that fast, in that they meandered almost like one would expect a curvy mountain bike or game trail to meander, so between the running around obstacles and jumping over downed logs, it was hard to get in much of a rhythm. I found this true for much of the course. Hard to describe except that the trails almost never went straight. This isn't a complaint, more an observation, and it probably helped to keep me awake at night, as I felt like I needed to consistently pay attention to where I was going.<br />
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Mid-way up the first climb, all of the energy spent trying
to catch up and pass people after getting off trail, hit me and I experienced
the biggest bonk of the race for me. My legs didn’t have much pep, and I let
the group of guys I’d been running with go.
The first 27Km of the race is leading you up to the summit of Colorado. Before
the final push to the summit there’s a long windy section where you’re still
going up gradually, but the trail is winding through the woods, around downed
trees, and generally just not very direct in nature. I’d argue that not much of
the course is technical, but it’s a course that can be hard to get into a
rhythm because you’re either skirting a downed tree, or taking a cow path that
winds in a way that clearly demonstrates the non-hurried lives of cows. An inch
or two of snow covered this outer portion, but the path was clear, and the
world was glittery with the fresh snow and a headlamp. Eventually you get up
above the trees, and the summit becomes evident. Cresting the summit it was
cold and windy. Some dedicated volunteers were up on top; throughout the race
there were volunteers in pairs or alone posted, seemingly, in the middle of
nowhere. It was an impressive feat standing out there in sub-freezing temps.
Immediately chilled on top, and despite the peaceful beauty of the frosty
summit, I opted to get down quickly. The descent, was steep and a bit tricky,
and I caught up to Mauri here, who was struggling.<br />
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It was just after the Colorado 1 aid station that I hooked
up with Mario, who when he started to tell me his story (school teacher from
Chile), he reminded me that we’d run together during one of the stages of El
Cruce. He was very nice, but I tend to like to be on my own, so hoped that he’d
either drop back or surge ahead, but he was hard to lose. He’d climb faster
than me, and I’d descend faster than him. Through this rolling section, I
wasn't able to gracefully get away from him (nor him from I). At some point, we
started running together for the most part, and then his light started to die.
From that point, he really was stuck with me, as I also didn't want to strand
him in the dark. We came into the big barn aid station (Quilaniahue 1) where he found a replacement light. We were no longer bound together, but by this point,
we were sort of a team. Leaving that station, we really started to roll, and I
felt better than I had all night. We flew by several guys in this section, and I’ve
never worked with someone like that in a race, where he’d pull me on the ups,
I’d pull him on the downs, and together we were moving faster than we would
have moved apart. It was fun, and I felt great. We came into PAS Quechuquina,
now just out of the top 5 overall, and left motivated to pick off more.</div>
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This next section was also cruisable with rolling wide trail
where you could get into a rhythm, until you’re dumped onto the shores of Lake
Lacar, where the course takes you along the shore. It was still dark at this
point, without much of a hint that the sun would eventually rise. This section
took a bit of the wind out of my sails, as it was again, hard to get into a
rhythm, with some loose rocks along the shore, sand, logs to jump, and
navigation was mildly more difficult. In general, besides that first turn
myself and a few others had missed at the beginning, the course was impeccably
marked. There were little reflective markers posted frequently, and you could
almost always see the next one and know which direction to head. We only once
almost mistook the eye shine of a horse for a marker, but I quickly noted to
Mario that the course marking was large and moving, and realized that it wasn’t
the correct way to go. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Starting to come down off of the high, we hit the Quechuquina
Hydration point (Km 63), which is right before you start to ascend gradually
for several miles leading to the last big ascent. Mauri was there (who had
dropped after the descent I’d pass him on earlier) and for the first time, I
asked about other women, and he told me not to worry, that they were far behind.
After the aid station, there is a long section of climbing, which includes a a
long gradual ascent along with some rolling, to an aid station (Coihue, 72 Km),
after which you begin the steeper ascent up the last big climb. The first part
is along a thin winding trail that has waist-high bamboo. Also hidden in this
section are a ton of downed logs of about 12” diameter. What this means is that
the trail is apparent—you can see where the path leads through the bamboo, but
you can’t quite see the ground through the bamboo. It was like running through
a mine field (except instead of getting blown up, you trip and face plant over
hidden logs). It didn't seem to matter if I was leading or in the back; Mario struggled to see the logs more than I did. We’d be running along, and I’d see
him face plant ahead of me, or I’d be running along in front and hear him face
plant from behind. I also managed a couple of face plants, but paled in comparison to Mario's numbers. I’d guess were both
pretty psyched to come to the end of the bamboo section. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The sun was finally coming up through this section, although
it wasn't quite light. At the Coihue aid
station (~72 Km), right before you climb up Cumbre Quilaniahue, I finally
turned off my light. I was ready to leave the aid station sooner than Mario, so
I left, assuming he’d catch up to me quickly on the climb. Climbing up, he
didn't catch me, and I almost felt guilty for leaving him, but then had to
remind myself that we weren't actually a team. The climb up was tough, but one
of the highlights of the race, as the sun had just risen, and for the first
time I could see in daylight the beauty of where we’d been running all night.
With a dusting of snow up top and on the surrounding peaks, the view from the
top was breathtaking and daybreak did provide that rejuvenating feeling I had
remembered from Hellgate. After 8 hours of running through the dark, I was
ready to stop focusing my eyes so intently on the trail. I did notice that my
vision was slightly blurry, which had been hard to tell in the dark. Once again,
there were some hearty, and likely cold, volunteers up top, along with a
photographer capturing the spectacular backdrop. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4cRHETxjKGc/U4ebCcXSdnI/AAAAAAAACSE/RWlTF5tJapw/s1600/patagonia+sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4cRHETxjKGc/U4ebCcXSdnI/AAAAAAAACSE/RWlTF5tJapw/s1600/patagonia+sunrise.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading up the last big climb. The course was super well-marked with yellow ribbons (seen on the right here) or during the night with reflective dots. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x1PE7uBIQRU/U4ea8eHbxII/AAAAAAAACR0/Fwc0SmYxB0o/s1600/patagonia+shadow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x1PE7uBIQRU/U4ea8eHbxII/AAAAAAAACR0/Fwc0SmYxB0o/s1600/patagonia+shadow.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous views up above. I didn't take many pictures along the way, but couldn't resist stopping to take a few a shots. Photo: me. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MANkry8w-xg/U4ebAPaxs7I/AAAAAAAACR8/5c2Lw_SMgak/s1600/patagonia+up+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MANkry8w-xg/U4ebAPaxs7I/AAAAAAAACR8/5c2Lw_SMgak/s1600/patagonia+up+top.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race photo. Despite the freezing temps I stayed warm all night in shorts, the race T and my ghost whisperer.</td></tr>
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The descent from the top was tricky and slow, for me, with a
lot of loose rock and dirt, things to trip over, generally just pretty steep, and
I couldn’t see very clearly. Luckily, the blurriness continued to improve, so
I’m going to have to guess it was caused by fatigue from 8 hours of intense use
under low-light and sub-zero temps. I had a case of Hellgate eyes.</div>
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The descent dumps you into the Quilaniahue aid station
(80Km) for a second time, and you retrace your steps back to the Colorado aid
station (87Km), once again along some winding cow trails that aren't technical,
but annoyingly curvy with lots of turns and stops and starts so getting into a
rhythm wasn't easy. Mario did catch back up to me during this section and we
ran together and yo-yoed back to Colorado. This section was easily my least favorite of
the route. Once leaving Colorado, there’s a generally mild section, with
straighter lines, and gently downhill to the last aid station (Bayos, 96Km).
From here to the finish, it’s downhill, but the course is now packed with
runners, as all of the 10K and other distances are also now on the same route. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vSaFigoi10Y/VA5BRvFHjYI/AAAAAAAACUk/GbynAuNzeaQ/s1600/patagonia%2Brun%2Broad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vSaFigoi10Y/VA5BRvFHjYI/AAAAAAAACUk/GbynAuNzeaQ/s1600/patagonia%2Brun%2Broad.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way home in the repeat section from 80 to 87. Photo: GuiaKmZero. I think that is Mario in the background, about to be reunited again.</td></tr>
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The trail finally dumps you onto road, where it’s easier to
pass, and it’s a screaming downhill into a town, and a finish in the center of
town. Two guys I’d seen a few times since the start passed me on the trail
section, and I caught back up to one of them on the road. I told him I wanted
to get in under 13 hours (my goal had been loosely between 12 and 13, not
knowing the course, and based off past times, and mid-race I set a goal of top 5 overall), so we pushed and he soon dropped
me for a second time. I finished in 7<sup>th</sup> overall/1<sup>st</sup> chick
in 12:55, 2 minutes out of 5<span style="font-size: 13px;">th</span> and ahead of 2<sup>nd</sup>
and 3<sup>rd</sup> place women who came in together in 14:03. Sadly, I later learned that my friend Mario,
had to pull out at Colorado 2 with an injury. No wonder he never caught me those last <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tGjgd0WxSCo/U4ea3NJBnNI/AAAAAAAACRE/R2CH13PlQDg/s1600/patagonia+finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tGjgd0WxSCo/U4ea3NJBnNI/AAAAAAAACRE/R2CH13PlQDg/s1600/patagonia+finish.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy to be done. </td></tr>
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The awards ceremony was a pleasant surprise; I'd seen there would be a cash prize for the 100K, but they hadn't listed the amount, so I was pleasantly surprised to win 10,000 pesos, and also an entry and travel expenses paid to a 100K race in Costa Esmeralda, Brazil in May of 2015. Again, hard to pass up a trip to the beaches in southern Brazil, so I will likely find myself down there again in a year, if not before.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bCD_E0hJA4M/VA-gtCm4PjI/AAAAAAAACU0/4tBpmeeLwnE/s1600/photo%2B(95).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bCD_E0hJA4M/VA-gtCm4PjI/AAAAAAAACU0/4tBpmeeLwnE/s1600/photo%2B(95).JPG" height="400" width="383" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adriana Vargas, me, and Laura Lucero. 10,000 pesos and a trip to Brasil! </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7WeCJKzIMJM/VA-iQXxqCGI/AAAAAAAACVU/3KqQEGalXtA/s1600/googles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7WeCJKzIMJM/VA-iQXxqCGI/AAAAAAAACVU/3KqQEGalXtA/s1600/googles.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I also won a gift certificate to a local store, and scored these sweet ski goggles, which I plan use a lot this winter in Bend (!!). Photo: me.</td></tr>
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It's been several months since the race at this point, and some of this was written recently and other parts long ago, but looking back Patagonia Run has been one of the year's highlights. The race organization was excellent, the ultra running community down there is a newer one, but a fun and inviting one, the scenery was amazing, the course challenging and fun, and overall it was just a really well-run event and one I'd return to in a heartbeat. I love Patagonia! It really was like running through a glittery wonderland for hours on end. My visual memories of this race are awesome.</div>
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Thanks to Mountain Hardwear Argentina for the invite, and thanks to my sponsors, Montrail, Mountain Hardwear, Injinji, ClifBar, Flora and Nuun. Also Petzl provided me with the new Tikka+. It's a great light--check it out!</div>
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Gear:</div>
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Shoes: Montrail Bajada--my feet were unscathed after almost 13 hours in wet shoes and socks.</div>
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Socks: Injinji Run 2.0 Mini Crew--zero blisters!</div>
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Nutrition: Clif Shot Gels, Clif Recovery drink, and some gummies</div>
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Lights: Petzl Tikka+, Petzl MyoRXP, and Fenix E12 (single AA handheld light--also great!)</div>
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Shorts: Mountain Hardwear CoolRunner shorts (I live in these things--love them)</div>
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Jacket: MHW Ghost Whisperer</div>
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Gloves: MHW wool blend. Love these. </div>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-16201985150082295312014-06-03T11:49:00.003-04:002014-06-03T11:51:20.208-04:00Comrades 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I've recently gloated that I almost never get sick, so I guess I
was due this. I’m currently en route from Atlanta to Portland after the 16-hour
Jo-burg-Atlanta direct flight, which ranks as one of the worst flights in my
life (and longest flight in the world), and I've had some doozies. A hacking
cough and stuffiness has turned me into that person you glare at on airplanes—the
one that you’re convinced is going to get you sick. I think I glared at a
similar person en route to Durban on Thursday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The day after a disappointing race is always a bit of a downer.
Although I went into Comrades knowing some recent issues I've been having with
my left hamstring/glutes/piriformis would either numb themselves into
submission during the race which would serve as a last long run before Western
States, or help me come to the decision that I'm injured and need some time off
to get healthy again. My training the past few weeks has not been ideal, as
tightness in my butt and hamstring has caused workouts to be painful, and easy
runs to not be completely enjoyable either. So, I hoped that a good 2-week
taper into Comrades would get me to the start line healthy, and a decent race
would leave me confident about running Western States with time for a rest week
before putting in a couple of weeks of final preparation for WS.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Niggles are common among runners, and I feel like I always have
something floating around. But usually the niggle lasts a day or two and then
moves on and a different niggle pops up. When an issue sticks around for more
than a few days, I get worried, and this has had me worried for the last month,
as it started as an issue back in early May and just hung on, getting progressively
worse. It’s not a new niggle, but one in the past has floated around, and not
been consistently an issue. One of the problems is I can't quite tell what the
issue is--hamstring, glute, piriformis, It's painful in a few spots, and a bit
difficult to pinpoint exactly. Some days in the pool seemed to help, but
running hard would seemingly negate those recovery days, and have me back where
I started. Training has not been ideal the past month, although I managed to
stick sort of on schedule, with fewer hard sessions and long runs than I had
hoped. I foam rolled a lot, stretched, did glute/hamstring exercises, saw my
graston guy and massage guy, etc. I've had issues heading into other races,
forcing rest and PT, hoping for a race miracle, and sometimes it works and
sometimes it doesn't. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Adding to my pre-race worries, I started getting a sore throat on Friday
night. I woke up Saturday not feeling hot and needing to swallow constantly,
but there was nothing I could do, besides suck on zinc lozenges. Race morning,
Sunday, I woke up feeling not horrible, so was hopeful that maybe I'd still
kick it. Now on my way home, I’m fully sick, and as sick as I’ve been in a few
years. I feel badly for the dudes sitting next to me, who will be lucky to
avoid this thing, as I’ve coughed, and sniffled the entire way home. The guy en
route from Jo-burg was apologetic after I was apologetic, and the guy en route
to Portland gifted me an entire bag of cough drops. I avoided colds all winter
when my roommate or work colleagues were seemingly always sick, so the timing
of my first cold in a couple of years is just another frustration on a
frustrating day. Alas, this is a bit of a pity party so far. Time for some
positives….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For those unfamiliar with Comrades, the race is a point to point
that switches direction each year. The race from Durban to Pietermaritzburg is
a net uphill so called an "up" run, and the other direction, which we
ran this year, from Pietermaritzburg to Durban is a "down" run. The
terms don't necessarily completely describe the course because either direction
has a lot of up and down (down run has around 4700 feet of up and 6700 feet of
down). Many folks say the down run is harder, as it leaves you battered after a
good chunk of the downhill comes in the last third of the race. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UlhopBsDCRY/U43pkpbHa2I/AAAAAAAACTI/f4GjqsoeQX4/s1600/routeprofiledown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UlhopBsDCRY/U43pkpbHa2I/AAAAAAAACTI/f4GjqsoeQX4/s1600/routeprofiledown.jpg" height="170" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Race morning was lovely. Often the start can be quite chilly, as
Pietermaritzburg sits up at 2,000 feet, but with lows only around 60F the night
prior, it was a warm start. The start of Comrades has an energy that must be
experienced to truly appreciate it. Running for the Nedbank elite team, we got
a position right up front on the start line, which was a little intimidating,
as the sprint off the front is something to behold. Everyone slows down in a
race from the initial pace, although I have to suspect the Comrades slow down
for most is even more dramatic, as the lure of the TV cameras off the front,
and energy in the air, make it look like some are racing the mile. The entire
race is televised, up to the 12-hour cut-off. Right before the gun they play Shosholoza, a
South African folk song, and Chariots of Fire. The excitement builds, the start
line grows more and more cramped as people push forward, and at 5:30 a.m. the
gun goes off. Fearful of getting trampled, I braced myself for the push, and
breathed a sigh of relief after the first block. Ian Sharmin came by and we
chatted for a bit before he headed off. The first mile was 6:30, so knowing
that the pace was a bit fast, I aimed to ease back into a more sustainable pace.
Despite the quick start, I felt good, and my butt felt good and loose, and the
next few miles clicked by under 7:00 pace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was dark the first few miles and when the sun finally did come
up it was gorgeous. At this point, you're running through rolling farm country
and the sun rises over large rolling hills to the east, off to the left hand
side, showing off a landscape of big rolling green hills with brilliant pinks
and oranges highlighting a few lone trees on the horizon line. I had a few
Nedbank guys around me who seemed to be forming a little group around me, and
at some point reminded them that they couldn't run near me, as pacing isn't
allowed; it looks especially suspicious if a Nedbank woman is surrounded by a
group of green Nedbank men. They disappeared, but when running with that many
people (17,000 starters), you’re bound to be near someone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There are steady ups and downs throughout the first 20K, and I
felt good and was climbing well. The pace stayed comfortable and we averaged
about 7:10 pace through about 18 miles. I was aiming for an overall average of
around 7:30 pace, so while this was a bit quick, it felt good; 7:35 average
pace was what I needed to go to get in under 7 hours, but I hoped to be a bit
under that. Somewhere after mile 10 I
made the first of what turned into 6 bathroom stops in the first 40 miles. A
sore throat, the poops, and my hammies/butt had quickly tightened up after the
initial loose first few miles. Speed is what typically doesn't feel good on my
butt, and it was tight. Tight asses are not always a good thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Even though it was just yesterday, the middle miles are all kind
of a blur. I was frustrated in that I seemingly constantly needed to pull over,
despite taking one Imodium before the start, and another about 15 miles in when
things started to feel rough tummy-wise. I was eating and drinking, but doing
so caused me to need to use the bathroom. We had handlers that were there to
give us bottles roughly every 10K following the 20K mark, but there was also a
ton of aid along the way. Comrades is one of the best-aided races I've run,
with water/energy drink stops every 2 or 3K. The beverages are in little
sachets which make drinking or holding them for later very easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I was in around 6<sup>th</sup> for the first 18 miles, but several
bathroom stops in a row allowed for several women to pass, many of whom I must
not have seen while in the port-a-potty right before half-way point, where I
must have come in around 8<sup>th</sup> or 9<sup>th</sup>. I never saw Jo pass me, but did spot a few
others from the bushes. I passed half-way in about 3:25/6, but that was after
my longest bathroom break, so in hindsight, was happy with my pace through the
first half, which was on-target for my goal of sub-7 and a gold medal, which
the top 10 receive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Zola Budd passed me somewhere in this middle section, running for
Hooters. It was pretty amazing to be running in a race around Zola Budd, but
she motored on, while I struggled. We finally came to the start of the downhill
section. Often in an ultra, pre-race niggles will just kind of melt away with
the miles, I think related to endorphins, or some aspect of body chemistry, but
the miles were only adding to the discomfort, and my upper hamstring/piriformis
was pissed. The two women who finished in 9<sup>th</sup> and 10<sup>th</sup>
were running just in front of me, and I had passed them back on the downhill, and
felt like I was getting back into a groove and that the Imodium seemed to have
stopped the frequent stops. I was averaging 7:27 pace overall at this point but
getting faster as we started to descend, so with the upcoming net downhill and
fewer stops, was hopeful to stay under 7:35 pace which was the pace to get in
just under 7 hours. Right around 23K to go, I felt a sharp pain in my left
hamstring which altered my step. I kind of jerked to a stop and tried to start
running again, but was obviously limping. I started to walk, quickly deciding
that my race was over and accepting the fact that it was going to be a long
walk. But, I had several hours to get to the finish, and I could walk, so I
might as well finish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This was right after 23K to go, and I don’t think I fully
comprehended what walking in would be like. While the entire Comrades course is
spotted with people, there are a ton of people in the final 23K, most of whom
were encouraging me to start running again. “Come on lady, you can do it!” “Run
lady, run!” “Don’t give up, lady!” “Run Amy!” In addition to the crowds,
several runners paused to encourage me along, and several walked with me for
long bits, but all eventually powered on running. While I appreciated their
enthusiasm, this was hard to hear, as I couldn't really run. I tried to start
running a few steps several times, but gave up quickly, as I couldn't run
without pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A common Comrades tradition is to party with a braai or barbecue along
the side, often handing out aid in the form of water, fruit or candy, in
addition to the official race aid stations. One guy offered me a cup of water,
and I asked whether he could spare a beer, which he was happy to do. This made
me quite popular with the fans, and tasted damn good. Plus, fewer people
shouted at me to run with a beer in hand. A few miles later I scored a second,
and probably would have looked for a third and fourth, but I had to pee and was
stick of stopping to use the bathroom after so many stops in the first half. I
was also hoping to see a friend who hoped to finish around 9 hours on course
and didn’t want to miss her with a stop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a long walk, and while I tried to soak in and enjoy the
energy around me, I was really ready to be done. The bathroom issues were over,
but the sore throat and overall bleh were becoming more apparent. With about
10K to go I calculated that I could finish in under 9 hours if I kept my pace
under 15 min/mile. Not that I cared about which finishers medal I got at this
point, but with 8 miles walked, and 6 miles left to walk, I needed a goal. I
picked up the pace and kept up a decent clip, feeling a weird bit of
competitive walking come upon me, getting a few miles in around 13:40. The Km
signs couldn't come fast enough, but I passed the 3 Km, 2 Km and 1 Km signs and
finally entered the stadium, still walking and 2 hours later than hoped. By this time tears were streaming down my face. I was just so glad to be done and desperately wanted off of the course. It had been a long and disappointing day. I finished in 8:52 (?), 2
hours slower than my goal. While I felt deflated, at the same time, it was
encouraging because while I’d worried before the race that top 10 was out of my
reach, being there on that day, I realized that on a good day top 10 is well
within my reach, and even top 5. Sometimes everything comes together on race
day, and sometimes the cards just seem stacked against you. On race day, I didn't
feel out of my league to reach my goal, I just felt like crap, both with some
pre-race niggles that could have gone either way, and with a bug that has now
taken over completely. At this point, I can’t wait for the plane to land and to
make a bee-line for home and my bed and a long-overdue nap with my sweet
kittens. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Once again, back to the positives….I feel fortunate to call Ellie
both a teammate and friend, and I was thrilled to hear about her day once I’d
finished. I was almost afraid to ask, as we’d both confessed our pre-race concerns
to each other on Saturday afternoon, and she had some reasons for concern. But
in true Ellie fighting spirit, she had what she called a bad race up to the
point where she laid it all on the line and went for it. She reeled the twins (who have dominated the past several years) in in what (according to the Twitterverse) was the fastest closing split over the
final 7 Km for either men or women. Incredible! Watching her finish replayed on
the jumbo-tron afterwards with Ian following her in from behind, was awe-inspiring.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I do plan to be back at Comrades, if not next year, then at a
minimum for the following year for the next down run. Seeing the race unfold,
and feeling comfortable in the pace that it takes to run for gold, I’m
confident that on a good day, or even a slightly less bad day, I can run in
contention for a solid top 10 finish. Many thanks to Nedbank for allowing me to
race for them and for providing logistical support in country—I know that they
had high expectations for all of us, and I feel badly about the outcome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Despite the race not going as planned, I had a great trip. I
arrived in Cape Town on the Monday prior for a few days of rest and relaxation,
and loved exploring the area around the Cape. I'll add some pictures once I'm back in the real non-airplane world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-25033042424678821682014-04-11T16:11:00.001-04:002014-04-11T16:11:42.963-04:00Sedona, Brazil and El Cruce Columbia 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As I write this I’m in the air traveling back to Patagonia for another race, and I
like to finish up one race before starting the next. So, for those of you who responded to my last blog to keep writing, here goes. I need to be less wordy in order to write more frequently. I've failed on that front here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">January and February were filled with big adventures and a lot of
air travel. A birthday trip to Sedona, a postponed work trip to Brazil, and a
stage race in Patagonia, all managed to converge upon the same 3-week period,
and required some tight scheduling and ridiculous amounts of air travel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">First up was a long weekend in Sedona, an early 40<sup>th</sup>
birthday celebration, which was awesome. Good friends Katherine, Susan and I
enjoyed a lovely weekend at a friend's condo in Sedona. Long runs in the red
rocks, delicious meals, wine tasting, hot tub soaking, and a side trip to
Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon to see more friends for more fun times on trail,
were all part of the 4-day relaxation before the South American tour began.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xF5-T2uwghs/U0hE-D_IhrI/AAAAAAAACMs/M2IkdZQQ8Cw/s1600/cruce+23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xF5-T2uwghs/U0hE-D_IhrI/AAAAAAAACMs/M2IkdZQQ8Cw/s1600/cruce+23.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running down into the Grand Canyon.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">From Arizona I flew directly to Belem, Brazil for a work trip.
Belem is in the north of Brazil at the mouth of the Amazon, but getting there
(via a US carrier) means being routed through Brasilia or Sao Paolo, which are
in located in southern Brazil. All that means is that any flight to Belem
requires roughly an extra 10 hours of air time, because you have to fly an
additional 5 hours south to turn around and fly 5 hours north. When you're a
frequent flyer mileage whore, this isn't a problem. I used to be a mileage
whore, but I’ve had enough problems at 10,000 feet, plus I fly sufficiently so
as to not crave circuitous routings to rack up miles. Work in Brazil went well.
Belem is not on the top of my list as a running destination (flat and hot), but
it is an interesting place to visit. I managed to stay on my training schedule,
although that did include many treadmill runs, including a 20+ mile hilly run,
as Belem is pretty flat. I enjoyed my time in Brazil, had a productive
work trip with very nice hosts, but was happy to be heading home in order to
begin the vacation part of my Sofuth American trip--a stage race in Chilean
Patagonia, El Cruce Columbia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">El Cruce Columbia is a 3-day stage race set in Chilean Patagonia (some
years crossing into Argentina, hence the name). The course and location change
every year, and this year was staged near Puerto Varas, Chile, skirting some
volcanoes, and ending up just at/over the Argentinian border. The planned
distance was for just over a 100K of racing with the longest stage the first
day (approximately 25 miles) followed by 2 shorter days (18-22 miles). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My only pre-race woes were my travel schedule. Unfortunately,
because of the way that the tickets were purchased--the work trip was a Delta
ticket purchased originally for a December date that was postponed, and the
Chile trip was an American ticket, purchased for me by the race--there was no
"easy" way to combine the two trips without me paying out of pocket
significantly. I couldn't change the origin on the Chile trip to be anything
other than a US city and couldn't jump on that ticket mid-way without
forfeiting the ticket--you have to start a trip in order to finish it.
Basically, I needed to be back in Portland on Saturday, January 31 to fly to
Chile, or I would have to pay my way from Belem or Sao Paulo to Chile and
all the way home, so in the end, just accepted the fact that I was going to
depart Belem on a flight south to Sao Paulo, heading back north to connect
through Atlanta, on to Portland, repack, and depart again less than 24 hours
later, knowing that when I was in Sao Paolo, I was a 4-hour direct flight from
Santiago, Chile. But instead of that 4-hour hop, I got to enjoy a 10-hour
flight to Atlanta, 5-hour flight to Portland, and then the next day turn around
and do another 4-hour leg to Dallas, followed by a 10-hour flight down to
Santiago, and then 2 more hours to my final destination, Puerto Montt, Chile.
The routing I got to experience earns you WAY more frequent flyer miles--I
earned close to 50,000 for the entire journey, but it’s a bit more tiring. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, I arrived in Puerto Montt on Sunday, February 2 feeling sort
of like I'd been hit by a bus, but less so than I expected, and very excited to
be back in an area of the world that I love and one that I hadn't seen in over a
decade. I’d celebrated my 29<sup>th</sup> birthday on Isla Chiloe, not far
from Puerto Montt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I was invited to the race several months back, I accepted the
invitation without hesitation. I spent 3+ years living in Paraguay and then a
couple of months traveling through Argentina, Chile and Peru on my way home
after my Peace Corps service ended, and then traveling to Latin America for
work on a frequent basis for several years, so I feel very comfortable traveling
in South America. It feels very familiar yet foreign at the same time. Plus, I
was turning 40 a couple of days before the race. What better way to celebrate a
milestone birthday than by running through Patagonia? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Because it was my birthday week, and leaving on Saturday meant
little difference vacation-day-wise at work as leaving Tuesday, I had arranged
to arrive a few days early to hang out in and around Puerto Varas, and enjoy a
few days of true vacation. Emma Roca was scheduled to arrive the same day as I,
and we ran into each other at lunch the first day, and would spend the better
part of a week together, without much time apart. This was a good thing,
because we hit it off. Luckily, we got along super well, because the race
organization housed Emma and me together before the race, and then we had tents
side-by-side in camp, and ended up racing within minutes of each other each
day. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hcXCOEOeZc8/U0hFFh-fH6I/AAAAAAAACNk/AdfbvB1bwhY/s1600/cruce+15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hcXCOEOeZc8/U0hFFh-fH6I/AAAAAAAACNk/AdfbvB1bwhY/s1600/cruce+15.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Patagonia had been in a drought all summer, so the locals were
thrilled with the rain that was present for most of the trip, and the pre-race
weather was an indicator of what was to come during the race, especially for
the team competition. The days leading up to the race were spent hanging out in
Puerto Varas, going for short runs around town, and on my birthday, we rented a
car and drove out to a hot spring outside of town, and invited Marco de Gasperi
and Miguele along for the adventure. Miguele didn’t get the memo that we were
going to a “rustic” hot spring, and was a bit shocked when he figured out we
weren’t going to a fancy spa, but survived the trip, and it was fun to at least
get out of Puerto Varas for the day. Meeting and spending time with Marco was
another highlight of the trip; he’s a super nice guy, and super tranquilo. I
knew he was famous in the sky running world, but his low key nature hardly even allowed me to be star struck. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QcEpA3M6g6I/U0hFG3CGeaI/AAAAAAAACN0/sf7kzJypK3c/s1600/cruce+17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QcEpA3M6g6I/U0hFG3CGeaI/AAAAAAAACN0/sf7kzJypK3c/s1600/cruce+17.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boat that delivered us to the hot springs. Looked like a great fly-fishing spot. Photo: my iPhone.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">El Cruce has two separate races going on—the 2-person team race
and the individual race. Both races utilize the same course and camps, the only
difference being that the teams start a day earlier than the individuals. This
year the individual race definitely got the long end of the stick, as the
weather was kind of sucky the first day for us, but sounds like it was mainly
sucky every day for the teams. This year’s field was around 750 teams and 1300
individual runners, for a total of 2800 runners. The logistics of pulling this
all off were definitely complicated, and more so because of rain and cold temps
that created some additional challenges. I’ve never been to TransRockies, but I
would guess the tent village at El Cruce is on a different scale, with at least
750 matching blue Columbia tents set up in a field, a circus-sized dining tent,
a long line of porta-potties and longer line of users, and a barbeque pit set
up to grill enough beef, chick and chorizo to feed 1500 hungry runners twice a
day. Suffice it to say, it’s the only race I’ve done where a “cuchillo para
carne” (steak knife) was on the packing list. If I were a vegetarian or vegan
going to the race, I’d definitely pack an alternative protein source.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PtHeif-Iuac/U0hFIuv6TJI/AAAAAAAACOQ/QHsTz-c36Yk/s1600/cruce+20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PtHeif-Iuac/U0hFIuv6TJI/AAAAAAAACOQ/QHsTz-c36Yk/s1600/cruce+20.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No shortage of meat. The twice-a-day asado scene. Photo: my iPhone.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The first day we were bussed early in the morning to the shores of
a lake, for the start. They start each day in mini waves, and the elite field
started it off. The teams had had hard rain and wind for much of their first
day the day prior, but we lucked into a cloudy day, with intermittent rain. The
first couple of miles were along the shore of the lake, running in thick black
sand/rocks. I didn’t love this part. It was pretty, but definitely not my
favorite running surface. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QZRL2swprvk/U0hFMup5DHI/AAAAAAAACPY/lCgaRoP8WeQ/s1600/cruce+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QZRL2swprvk/U0hFMup5DHI/AAAAAAAACPY/lCgaRoP8WeQ/s1600/cruce+7.jpg" height="233" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1: The elite start. Photo: El Cruce.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We turned up off the beach to start climbing, and
were still running through thick black volcanic sand which eventually became
more solid and more to my liking. On the climb I could see Emma in front of me,
and passed her somewhere near the pass. It was cold going over the pass, and I
pulled on my ghost whisperer for that part, but otherwise, the weather wasn’t
bad. The pass is where there would have been gorgeous views of surrounding
volcanoes on a sunny day, but it was pretty socked in. If you took a moment and
turned around during the climb, there were some very pretty views of the lake,
with hints of sun shining through the clouds. Coming over the pass we ended up
on a gravel road, which we would take downhill for about 10K. It was a
relatively straight shot down a long gravel road. It was on this road where
Emma passed me back, as I went slightly off course for a few meters when the
course made a turn for a short detour onto a trail that I missed. She flew by
me, and on the correct trail, and that would become a common theme throughout
the three days; me trailing, not by much, but trailing. I kept her in view for
the descent, until we got to a turn-off onto a trail around 20K. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BBJXZmMmWIg/U0hFLkcTfuI/AAAAAAAACO8/asbiRPMUZ8Q/s1600/cruce+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BBJXZmMmWIg/U0hFLkcTfuI/AAAAAAAACO8/asbiRPMUZ8Q/s1600/cruce+5.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caked in mud coming into the finish. Photo: El Cruce.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This was about the half-way point, give or take a couple miles,
and we had seen what the finishing times had been for the lead teams from the
day before, so I was a little surprised how quickly we’d completed the first
half of the course. Of course, I didn’t realize what was about to come. We turned off the gravel road, and entered
the mud zone, which would last for a good 12Km or so. 1500 runners had been through this section the day prior in
pouring rain, and at times there was shin-deep mud that was several feet wide
with no way around it. The most efficient way seemed to be to plow straight
through the middle. It was almost comical, but also frustrating, as it was hard
to stay upright, and slipping and sliding is fun to a point, but requires some
coordination in order not to impale yourself on vegetation. The mud zone seemed
never-ending, and it reminded me of what I expect a Tough Mudder to be like,
except that I would never sign up for a Tough Mudder. I felt like I was
crawling, but kept passing guys, I guess who were even more uncomfortable than
me in the slop. At some point during this section we came to a creek which had
a very steep drop-off down to it and that had volunteers posted with a fixed
rope to “rappel” down to the creek. I came to this section alone, so quickly
descended and ascended, but this section would become a bottleneck for most of
the field, and there were stories of runners waiting upwards of 2 hours in the
major conga line that formed waiting to descend the rope. It wasn’t cold for
the front runners, but for those that stood around for hours on the trail it got
a bit uncomfortable. This was one of many times that I thought that if I were
not running as an invited runner and at the front, I’d likely be a much less happy camper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Emma had quickly moved out of sight as soon as we got into the mud,
and I have to say that her history as a world champion adventure racer was quickly evident and served her well here. She vanished the minute we hit the trail. I didn't get passed except for maybe early on once or twice, and passed several guys, especially as the mud section dragged
on, but I definitely lost a competitive drive for long portions, as I
concentrated on staying upright. At some point after what seemed like hours of
slogging, I passed a guy (Martin Fiz) who reminded me there was one woman ahead of me and to
go after her. It’s as if I had forgotten that I was racing and was just
slogging to get out of the mud, but that sparked something and I started
working hard again. I had no idea how far ahead Emma was, but it was a reminder
that this was a stage race, and the less ground I could lose over the next 5 or
so miles to the finish, the better. I’d had a few butt slides up to this point,
but hadn't managed a good face plant, but in what was probably the last big
stretch of a foot-deep “lake” of mud I did a full superman face plant into the
slop. Covered head to toe, I could only laugh, and push on. The mud section had
been generally rolling and then climbing, but it finally plateaued and I could
see the lake off in the distance. The last 5 miles or so were fast and
downhill, finishing just beside the lake at Camp 1. Happy to be running again,
I pushed to the finish and finally got there in 4:11:01, trailing Emma by 5 minutes (4:05:45) with the third woman 49 minutes behind me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--OZA4zTauJY/U0hFL3rBe_I/AAAAAAAACPE/GVfekcKyX5g/s1600/cruce+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--OZA4zTauJY/U0hFL3rBe_I/AAAAAAAACPE/GVfekcKyX5g/s1600/cruce+6.jpg" height="400" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy to be done. Wet, muddy, and ready for a soak. Photo: El Cruce.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Life at camp was fun: nice people, beer, mate (yerba mate not
mating), soaking in the lake, lounging by the lake, massage, and lots of asado
(grilled meat). With the sun, things were looking up for the next two days, and
being able to complete the route as planned. We didn’t actually know what was
going on, though, as the reality was that the teams were struggling through day
2 with some additional weather-related issues, including a bridge that was out,
and a flooded camp 2 that awaited their arrival after another cold, wet and
long stage for them (stage 2 involved a bus ride to the start, and while the
sun shone upon us, it apparently wasn’t shining on them during their stage or on
their arrival to Camp 2). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RucfoxyrcGw/U0hFEuy4yuI/AAAAAAAACNU/QvBDCu9jngg/s1600/cruce+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RucfoxyrcGw/U0hFEuy4yuI/AAAAAAAACNU/QvBDCu9jngg/s1600/cruce+11.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drinking mate with some new Argentinian (and Spanish) friends. Photo: my iPhone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gHO6nk-0rYA/U0hFLBavtFI/AAAAAAAACOs/10nX9hmb1T8/s1600/cruce+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gHO6nk-0rYA/U0hFLBavtFI/AAAAAAAACOs/10nX9hmb1T8/s1600/cruce+3.png" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a post-run soak in the lake. Photo: El Cruce.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Day 2 started with some confusing messaging, which in the end was
roughly, stay in bed, don’t pack our things, and to chill because we weren’t
going anywhere. Our Camp 1 was to become our Camp 2, in part because stage 2
was impassable because of the bridge issues, and so we’d be doing a revised
stage from camp. The organizers, planned a new stage for us on the fly, which
would start at an undetermined time and the distance would be revealed to us.
We sat around, not really knowing what was happening, and eventually they
announced the stage, which would be an out-and back from camp: approximately 6
miles up a dirt road/trail, and then back down the same route, which would
start sometime around mid-day. The communication of the start time was vague,
and once the start looked probable, the lack of information made it such that
no one wanted to be left behind, so a mob of runners gathered around the
start/finish area where we then stood around in the sun for an hour or so
before the start. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Once we finally started, the course wasn’t bad for what it was. It
was a gradual to steady climb, through fields of grass and flowers, which consisted
of mainly dirt road with some single track. I had to pee so badly by the time
it started, and had been afraid to move far from the start line for fear of
missing the start, that I made it only a couple of miles with Emma before I had
to pull off and make a pit stop. I felt better, but I lost time and contact,
and a bit of motivation. The turn-around came soon enough, and I estimated Emma
was only a minute or so up on me, so it wasn’t so bad. I let it fly on the
downhill, but never did see her. She can definitely descend. Emma finished in
1:26:29 and I finished in 1:28:16, another 1:47 behind, which put me just about
7 minutes behind heading into what would be a shortened stage 3. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rw81hSqkGY8/U0hFIEqvAyI/AAAAAAAACOI/IC1lGgC1GW8/s1600/cruce+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rw81hSqkGY8/U0hFIEqvAyI/AAAAAAAACOI/IC1lGgC1GW8/s1600/cruce+2.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending during the short stage. Short, but pretty stage. Photo: El Cruce.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XUByGwady2k/U0hFLb18lpI/AAAAAAAACO0/ARsW3GPotx0/s1600/cruce+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XUByGwady2k/U0hFLb18lpI/AAAAAAAACO0/ARsW3GPotx0/s1600/cruce+4.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Commiserating after the 12 mile sprint. Photo: El Cruce.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pvUHZDAZ_WQ/U0hFE__2UMI/AAAAAAAACNQ/jUOWYEOdG3I/s1600/cruce+13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pvUHZDAZ_WQ/U0hFE__2UMI/AAAAAAAACNQ/jUOWYEOdG3I/s1600/cruce+13.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We spent a lot of time posing for group pictures. This one after the day 2 stage. Photo: El Cruce.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After the stage, more of the same…another bath in the lake,
another beer, more asado, more hanging out with new friends, and lots of posing
for pictures. The sunset on night 2 was photo-worthy and the volcano was out in
full view. We weren’t sure what was happening the next day, except that it
would be a shortened stage again, because of either weather or the fact that
the late start time would require an earlier start to ensure that everyone
finished before dark because we had to be bussed from Camp 1 to Camp 2 to start
stage 3. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g2Gh9WfeLXI/U0hFHL-5KHI/AAAAAAAACN8/xEd_BSYoPOk/s1600/cruce+18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g2Gh9WfeLXI/U0hFHL-5KHI/AAAAAAAACN8/xEd_BSYoPOk/s1600/cruce+18.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tent village at dusk. Photo: my iPhone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N8Qo1QgbiT8/U0hFJfvykiI/AAAAAAAACOc/EEaDAkmgqD0/s1600/cruce+21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N8Qo1QgbiT8/U0hFJfvykiI/AAAAAAAACOc/EEaDAkmgqD0/s1600/cruce+21.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The volcano that looked over the Camp. We finally got a full view the end of day 2. Photo: my iPhone.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The final morning, we packed up and were bussed to Camp 2, where
we would start stage 3. There was little information on the course, and all I
remember is Mauri telling me right before we started, “It’s all downhill; they’ve taken out the big climb. Well, you’ll climb a little at the start, but
then it’s all downhill.” I’m still
trying to figure this one out. We immediately started to climb gradually, and
then more steeply and continued to grind upwards for what was at least 10 km.
Mauri and I might have a very different definition of what “all downhill” means,
as this course seemed to be pretty evenly half uphill, and then half downhill. Regardless,
the third day was my favorite route, and the first section was beautiful, all
on black volcanic soil/sand/rocks with views of volcanoes in all directions. I
stayed with Emma for the first few miles, but then she continued to grind upwards as I took a walk break, and she quickly dropped me. We finally reached the "all downhill" section, which was steep and exposed at first, on black
volcanic scree, but then we entered the forest onto a fun trail that involved a lot
of log hopping and some patches of mud, that after the first day seemed didn’t
seem so bad. I face planted once early on the downhill and hit my right knee
pretty hard, which caused me to hobble for a couple of minutes, but no major
damage besides another scar to add to the collection. For the rest of the
downhill, I felt like I was pushing, but again, Emma was out of sight and
finished just a few minutes out of reach, again about 5 minutes behind in 2:32:42. The three-day tally was Emma finishing 16th overall in 7:59:23 and I was 17th overall in 8:11:59. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VI5gRMRAf2Y/U0hFMzuz25I/AAAAAAAACPQ/UrtlJuR_iA8/s1600/cruce+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VI5gRMRAf2Y/U0hFMzuz25I/AAAAAAAACPQ/UrtlJuR_iA8/s1600/cruce+8.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending on day 3. Views were not too shabby. Photo: El Cruce.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hoKO8Vu-9Oo/U0hFDg_SB6I/AAAAAAAACM8/fowWAIvKhcw/s1600/cruce+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hoKO8Vu-9Oo/U0hFDg_SB6I/AAAAAAAACM8/fowWAIvKhcw/s1600/cruce+10.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New friends (and old). Photo: my iPhone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t9D_gxCM8xg/U0hFEIF4ZcI/AAAAAAAACNA/p87FlWD4xnY/s1600/cruce+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t9D_gxCM8xg/U0hFEIF4ZcI/AAAAAAAACNA/p87FlWD4xnY/s1600/cruce+12.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El podio femenino. Photo: my iPhone.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Overall, I had a great time. I was given the opportunity to spend a week in a beautiful spot, meet some great people who I'll stay in contact with, run on some beautiful trails and take in some beautiful vistas. The race had its difficulties, but overall, I was impressed with the logistics of it all--putting up and breaking down a tent city for two groups of 1500 tired, cold, wet, and hungry runners is not an easy feat, and some amount of waiting in lines is unavoidable. The weather was out of the control of the organization, but there were definitely some elements (like the bottleneck the first day that caused people to stand in one spot on the trail for up to 2 hours), that were unfortunate. Those of us towards the front didn't have any issues, but only heard the tales after the fact. The race has grown over the years, and with growth an event can lose a bit of a personal feel. Most impressive are those events that even with growth can maintain the same level of support and attention to detail to all runners. Overall, I loved the experience and am very thankful to Columbia, Mountain Hardwear and Montrail for giving me the opportunity to participate. </span></div>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-81768429555555772922014-03-12T16:45:00.003-04:002014-03-13T17:59:10.631-04:002014 Plans: Masters Running<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I keep thinking about ditching this blog, while alternating with plans to continue writing more frequently. Maybe the key is to just write shorter posts. Because lately I've been too distracted to write in entire sentences, let alone paragraphs or stories. But there are a couple loyal blog followers (mom and Vicki) that keep requesting that I update this, so I'm hoping to catch up the last 6 months in the next few blog posts. A lot has happened since UTMB. There was a super fun trip to Japan in October for a kinda crazy and tough 71 Km MHW-sponsored race called the Hasetsune Cup. I still plan to write up a little something on that one. It was awesomely tough. January and February involved a hectic travel schedule, for a combination of pleasure (Sedona), work (Brazil), and more pleasure (Chile), including a race (El Cruce Columbia), and during which I turned 40--more to come on the race in Chile in a future post. The 3-week non-stop trip was both fun, and exhausting, and I scored almost 50,000 airline miles in the process. Funny how when you fly a lot, you get a lot of miles, but then don't really either need or want to use them. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8BHmpEYJFw/UyDGva2dwYI/AAAAAAAACLE/6mzY97RxU10/s1600/ella+napping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8BHmpEYJFw/UyDGva2dwYI/AAAAAAAACLE/6mzY97RxU10/s1600/ella+napping.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Every day a little closer to becoming a crazy cat lady. Here's Ella, a post-run recovery nap specialist. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Turning 40 has stressed me out since I was about 12, but it was relatively painless, and I never have to worry about it again. And life does indeed seem to be getting better and better, so all of those 40+ folks who say it gets better after 40 aren't just making crap up. Funny how daunting a number can seem and passing it just feels like a relief. Much of my anxiety revolved around the fact that if you boil it all down, I am an unmarried 40-year-old female living in Portland with 2 adorable cats (and the desire for a few more). Crazy-cat-lady-dom is staring at me in the face, and I want to both embrace it and run screaming. Some anxiety also comes from the fact that I'm about to get really old and really slow. I realize it's not going to happen overnight, but it's inevitable for all of us. And while I plan to age gracefully, I plan to do a little kicking and screaming on the way, as I've got some goals to achieve before I really slow down. And many women have proven that you can actually get faster at 40 and beyond. In the spirit of keeping this short...on to 2014 races and goals.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GdaexVB83Tc/UyDAlX1CxZI/AAAAAAAACKQ/LRuzKXoMbz4/s1600/hot+springs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GdaexVB83Tc/UyDAlX1CxZI/AAAAAAAACKQ/LRuzKXoMbz4/s1600/hot+springs.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Hanging out on my 40th birthday with mountain running superstars Marco de Gasperi and Emma Roca in a rustic local hot spring in Chile. Not a bad way to spend the day.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Feb 7-9: </span><a href="http://elcrucecolumbia.com/" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">El Cruce Columbia 2014</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">. A 3-day stage race through Chilean Patagonia, starting near Puerto Varas, Chile (blog post coming soon). </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2CMYTlv-Q1s/UyDBocaGyAI/AAAAAAAACKc/pXxHgAMSAUQ/s1600/el+cruce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2CMYTlv-Q1s/UyDBocaGyAI/AAAAAAAACKc/pXxHgAMSAUQ/s1600/el+cruce.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The scenery from the final day of El Cruce. Not a bad way to celebrate the big 4-0. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Feb 22: <a href="http://www.runwildadventures.com/index.php?p=1_15_Buck-Mountain-Mudslinger">Buck Mountain Mudslinger 6.5 mile Trail Race</a>. Not something I was planning to do; I decided to join friends who were going. Shortest race I've done in 20 years. A fun course at Silver Falls State Park, with a nice combo of big hills and mud. 1st Female in 52:18, which is not a fast time for the course, but a good winter workout and fun to get out of my comfort zone and run something short without getting angst-ridden about it. Fun to run a race where you spend more time drinking beer than you do running. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">April 12: <a href="http://www.patagoniarun.com/">Patagonia Run</a> 100K, San Martin de los Andes, Argentina. I had originally signed up for Lake Sonoma, but I could not pass up the opportunity for another trip to Patagonia, this time for a longer race in another spot I've visited years ago, and would love to see again, this time on foot. I lived in Paraguay for 3+ years back in the day and have traveled extensively in South America, but not in the past 6 years or so, and really loved being back down there in February. I appreciate that there is a very short window in my life where I will be invited to run in beautiful places, so plan to take full advantage of opportunities when they arise. I'm really excited about this one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">June 1: <a href="http://www.comrades.com/">Comrades Marathon</a> (89K), from Peitermaritzburg to Durban, South Africa. Comrades is the largest ultramarathon in the world, with close to 18,000 entrants. I'm excited for a down year this year. I ran the up year a few years back while in Africa for work, and struggled a bit with multiple bathroom stops for a 7:34 21st place (F) finish. It's always a hugely competitive field, as the prize money attracts a lot of top runners. I am going for a top 10 finish, which historically, would mean a sub-7 hour race. In a down year, roughly, the first 50K is big rolling hills, and then it's more or less downhill the last 40K. It'll either thoroughly trash my quads in preparation for WS or get them primed and ready to go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">June 28: <a href="http://www.wser.org/">Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run</a>. This will be my 4th year running Western States. I've been 8th, 8th, and 3rd, last year, and my times from the past 3 years have been within a 25 minute window. Last year was arguably my best year, but I'd like to improve upon my 19:11 PR there, and hope to get in around 18:30. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">August 9: Angels Staircase 60K. The course looks beautiful and tough and <a href="http://angelsstaircase.blogspot.com/">Rainshadow Running events</a> are always a ton of fun. This will be good preparation for whatever mountain adventures I plan for late August through October.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">(PACING) August 16: Leadville 100. I had a great time hanging out with Emma Roca all week at El Cruce Columbia, and my current plan is to pace her for at least part of her race. I've never been to Leadville, so am curious to watch it all go down. Hopefully they'll resolve some recent race management issues, and it will return to its former glory. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">November 28: <a href="http://www.iau-ultramarathon.org/index.asp?menucode=h02&col001=1452&tmp=tmp3&foto=photo0">IAU World 100K Championships</a> in Doha, Qatar. The race location was just announced this week, after the original plan for an August 31 race in Latvia fell through last month. I would have loved to have gone back to UTMB this year, but did not sign up because of the timing of the World 100K (initially on the same day). The November date frees up my summer schedule, and so July-October are still a bit up in the air. I won't know if I make the 100K team until early June, and that will then shape the rest of my year. If I make the team, I plan to spend Thanksgiving in Doha. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OBRGofdwRT0/UyDEen4Y-xI/AAAAAAAACKo/10_dhKImxuE/s1600/team+podium.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OBRGofdwRT0/UyDEen4Y-xI/AAAAAAAACKo/10_dhKImxuE/s1600/team+podium.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Memories from the 2012 World Championship in Italy. Here's hoping the race happens (and that I get to run it), and that we create a similar outcome. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">On the sponsor front, I'm happy to be continuing on with <a href="http://www.montrail.com/">Montrail</a>, <a href="http://www.mountainhardwear.com/">Mountain Hardwear</a>, <a href="http://www.clifbar.com/">Clif Bar</a>, <a href="http://www.injinji.com/">Injinji</a>, and <a href="http://nuun.com/">Nuun</a>. All great products and ones that I both love and use, to keep me running, clothed, shod, energized and hydrated. And I'm really happy to be joining the <a href="http://www.florahealth.com/home_usa.cfm">Flora</a> team this year, as they make great products and ones that I use on a daily basis to keep me healthy and running. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xu-Quie7Eqk/UyIpM06POPI/AAAAAAAACLU/vyCPziG6Gjo/s1600/sam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xu-Quie7Eqk/UyIpM06POPI/AAAAAAAACLU/vyCPziG6Gjo/s1600/sam.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">So as not to play favorites...the other half of Sam and Ella. Sam, ball fetcher extraordinaire, hanging out in one of her many favorite boxes. Sam would also like to thank my sponsors for keeping her life filled with boxes.</span> </span></td></tr>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-68646391214812761972013-09-26T14:57:00.001-04:002013-09-27T14:23:30.069-04:003/4 of the UTMB....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been meaning to write something about my UTMB race, but haven't really been feeling up to it. In summary, I developed what felt like a urinary tract infection, and the pain caused me to make a couple of medical stops around the mid-way point and hang out in the med tent at Arnuva (km 94) for an hour or so. Once I was freed to go, I continued on to Champex-Lac (122 K), where I eventually dropped. It was vomiting inside the aid station at Champex-Lac that caused a third medical tent visit there, but it was a combo of the UTI-like issue and vomiting that caused me to drop. I dug myself into a hydartion/nutrition hole, and while I could have just hung out for several hours and gotten myself into a place to move forward, at the time, the issues seemed such that I didn't believe pushing on for another 8+ hours was in my best interest. I guess I'm not one to push through the types of issues that many do in a hundred mile race. I'd like to continue doing this for a long time. So, when basic body functions become painful and stop working altogether, I may be somewhat quick to throw in the towel.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gBaSkC0zVOY/UkSv8KYtC-I/AAAAAAAACG8/myHybWyCZWc/s1600/chamonix+(63).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gBaSkC0zVOY/UkSv8KYtC-I/AAAAAAAACG8/myHybWyCZWc/s400/chamonix+(63).JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A street scene in Chamonix. A fun town, but I enjoyed hanging out in a quiet valley the days leading up to the race. All pics are mine.</td></tr>
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In hindsight, there were any number of solutions to the problems I faced during UTMB and ways I could have turned things around in order to finish UTMB, but at the time, the solutions were not apparent and my failure to figure them out forced me further into a hole. I would love to go back and restart the race with the knowledge of what would go wrong, and thus preemptively fix the issues as they came up, as I made a number of stupid mistakes that led to some health issues that it felt wise not to push through. I'm disappointed that I did not finish, but given the circumstances, I don't necessarily regret pulling the plug. I just regret getting myself into a place where I felt like I needed to pull the plug.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-etUjlmJCSV8/UkSwP5rdBhI/AAAAAAAACHE/GcwxeoTXTz4/s1600/cabin+on+utmb+course.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-etUjlmJCSV8/UkSwP5rdBhI/AAAAAAAACHE/GcwxeoTXTz4/s400/cabin+on+utmb+course.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trail heading down into Arnuva.</td></tr>
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The night start at UTMB means that you start out and run hard through the night, and thus, need to be taking in calories and fluids, even though the temps drop and fluids might seem less critical. At least this is my guess for why I didn't hydrate/eat like I should have. And this led to what appears to have been a urinary tract infection or what one would feel like, feeling like I had to pee constantly, without being able to, except when I could, which was really painful, and just painful, in general. I've never had a UTI before, and the obvious solution to try to clear something like this up would be to down lots and lots of fluids, but when it feels like you need to pee, but can't, and then when you do pee it is excruciating, then drinking lots of fluids to lead to peeing (and thus, pain) sounds intuitive, but in the moment didn't happen because at some subconscious level, I avoided drinking to avoid peeing (again, it hurt). I started having issues with this about 50K in, and then stopped at Courmayeur (80K) to consult medical, who advised me to drink lots of fluids, and then stopped again in Arnuva (95K) to consult again, and the medical tent there kept me for an hour to get me to drink fluids and do a couple of urine tests in addition to getting my blood pressure back up. It was 90/60, which is in the low range and low for me; I'm not sure what that even means or if that's normal mid-race to be low--it doesn't seem like it should be after running down a long descent to the aid station. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9zpFbAoike8/UkSwWoaYULI/AAAAAAAACHM/gUaEycgFZ_Q/s1600/meghan+and+me+in+cham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9zpFbAoike8/UkSwWoaYULI/AAAAAAAACHM/gUaEycgFZ_Q/s400/meghan+and+me+in+cham.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan and I at the start of the race. Stupidly, I didn't drink much in the hour or so leading up to the start, because last year I'd almost peed my pants waiting for the start. </td></tr>
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After an hour at Arnuva, they told me to go on my merry way, and I did go, and was fairly merry. My mindset had changed from racing to just finishing it. I made the climb up to Gran Col Ferret feeling stronger than I'd been climbing all day, and quickly passed back the two women that had gotten ahead of me during my hour on the cot, along with another couple of dozen of runners before I reached La Fouly. I felt like I had a new lease on life. Had I been smart here, I should have worked to get back into a good place from both a hydration and calorie standpoint. I also should have spent the hour in Arnuva focusing on getting food and water in, but I was in short sleeves laying on a cot alone in the medical tent, wrapped in an emergency blanket, and was too cold to think intelligently about getting up and spending that time in Arnuva working on eating and drinking. I was more concerned with staying warm wrapped in that piece of foil. Of course I had 2 more layers in my bag, which I also failed to put on. So, I consumed the 2 cups of tea with a sugar cube that the med team brought me, but nothing else, and while I felt great leaving Arnuva, those 2 sugar cubes wore off eventually--shocking, I know. Again, in hindsight, there were so many simple ways to get myself back into a better place, but I got myself further into a hydration defecit, and an empty stomach. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gf4Pzveoh4c/UkS1Rp-QGlI/AAAAAAAACIA/0nVSJdCySMI/s1600/cham+rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gf4Pzveoh4c/UkS1Rp-QGlI/AAAAAAAACIA/0nVSJdCySMI/s400/cham+rocks.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trail heading up the Gran Col Ferret.</td></tr>
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After Arnuva, I felt relatively great for most of the entire stretch to La Fouly, and continued to pick off runners, and came into La Fouly re-energized, but again, didn't grab as much as I should have in La Fouly. A banana and some protein drink, along with a glass of coke, which had been going down well all night. I had survived most of the race on coke up until this point, with some protein drink thrown in and a couple of gels early, but I'd stopped eating gels a few hours into the race, and opted to go on liquid calories. I think this plan would have been fine, but I wasn't actually taking in enough liquid calories, as my hydration bladder was filled with water, and the liquid calories I was only grabbing in glasses of coke at aid stations, and my protein drink, which tasted good and went down well, but which I could only grab in small quantities when at the infrequent crew points. </div>
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On a positive note, my legs felt pretty good and it wasn't the climbs and descents that caused me issues. While training locally is definitely beneficial, I felt like I knew what I needed to do going in to get ready, and my quads were relatively prepared for what they would face. It wasn't my legs that were the issue. It was a failure to have a good hydration/fueling plan and being fairly nonchalant about fueling/hydration and the issues that caused me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tOrvTPS0Vfg/UkSy92EcodI/AAAAAAAACH0/5pTQeUx5d2k/s1600/cham+trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tOrvTPS0Vfg/UkSy92EcodI/AAAAAAAACH0/5pTQeUx5d2k/s400/cham+trail.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trail heading down into Arnuva, where I hung out in the med tent for an hour. Not a bad place to be, as I had enjoyed a few days in Arnuva before the race. </td></tr>
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In the end, we all need to make our own decisions. I did that at UTMB and made what seemed to be the smartest decision at the time. After suffering with UTI pain and infrequent and painful attempts to go the bathroom for 45 miles, followed by a nausea bout that had me, again, in a prone position in a medical tent, pushing on in the heat of the day over another 3 tough mountain passes just didn't seem the wisest choice. I'm guessing it was hydration-related, but for whatever reason from my neck down, things had just been "off" for most of the race. Could I have done it? Yes. Did I fear that my internal systems weren't processing things well, and that another 8 hours of intense exercise could potentially damage them? Yes, but I guess that's always a fear in long-distance events. I guess the difference being that it's always a risk, but you either continue to fight through or throw in the towel once you can tell that there are problems. Some people are of the opinion that you should never throw in the towel. I'm definitely not of that mindset, and feel that not throwing in the towel when your body tells you to, can be a bit short-sighted. Dropping is a personal decision, and in the end, each of us has to make the decision that is in our own best interest.<br />
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I felt pretty down after the race, and still do to some degree. While at some level I realize I'm not a complete loser, I definitely don't feel good about my UTMB race. It was one of my goal races for the year, and dropping out of a "destination" race always leaves a bad taste on what was, otherwise, a great trip. I was having a bit of a pity party for several weeks, but am starting to feel excited to jump into some races again, and reminding myself that I don't completely suck. Sometimes it's good to have a melt-down race to rattle the confidence and force some reflection on what's been a solid several years of racing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pjpm3nlvj1A/UkSy07EfhaI/AAAAAAAACHs/PLbwMoMh4sM/s1600/cham+flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pjpm3nlvj1A/UkSy07EfhaI/AAAAAAAACHs/PLbwMoMh4sM/s400/cham+flowers.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers on the UTMB course near Arnuva. </td></tr>
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It's a strange sport in some regards. In some ways, it's a seemingly cohesive community out there who support other runners and build people up, but there seem to be also a growing number of people within the community ready to criticize--look at how much shit Anton got for dropping. Sometimes there's a damned if you do or damned if you don't feeling. I've heard athletes criticized for dropping, especially the "elites", but have also heard folks criticize other athletes for putting themselves into the hospital. I'd guess that many people that drop can probably get to the finish line, but at some point you've got to decide at what cost. There's sometimes no way to win, both figuratively and literally, so when having one of those days when normal bodily functions become painful, and the body is clearly unhappy, I made a decision to pull the plug. There's a difference between certain types of "unhappy" and while sore quads is one thing, kidneys that are unable to properly process waste, or the body struggling to excrete said waste is a different type of unhappy, and a type of unhappy I'm less willing to run through. I'd like to continue processing waste well into my 80s.<br />
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I continued to have some issues for a couple of days following the race, but everything did clear up and I felt fine within a few days and like I probably wasn't anywhere near to the point of causing damage, but at the time it sure felt like it. So, of course I doubt my decision, and kick myself for dropping now, although I didn't immediately following. Pain, in hindsight, always seems less severe. I guess that's why we keep signing up for these things.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wtpniQAEaRo/UkSw3JG2zxI/AAAAAAAACHc/aGNbakPdEZI/s1600/annecy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wtpniQAEaRo/UkSw3JG2zxI/AAAAAAAACHc/aGNbakPdEZI/s400/annecy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A day relaxing in Annecy after the race. Annecy is a place I could spend some time.</td></tr>
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I do want to go back to UTMB, and I'm anxious to race another 100 miler, and may try to jump into one soon, but maybe not. Sadly next year UTMB falls on the same date as the IAU World 100K, and assuming I'm on the team (Meghan and I have qualifying times from the Japan Shibamata 100K, so assuming no more than 4 people run faster 100Ks at MadCity or another road 100K I'll be on the team), I'll likely be in Latvia next year instead of Chamonix. It's a tough call, because while I'm more drawn to mountain running than road, I would have a hard time passing up the opportunity to represent the USA at the World 100K championships. If my Shibamata time does not get me on the team, then I will try to get into UTMB again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rSAvLWZPZ70/UkSyULjcXLI/AAAAAAAACHk/vJgRhKHBuDM/s1600/cham+pastries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rSAvLWZPZ70/UkSyULjcXLI/AAAAAAAACHk/vJgRhKHBuDM/s400/cham+pastries.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While the race didn't go as planned, it's really hard to complain. I lead a fortunate existence and get to travel the world and visit places like Chamonix, with window displays such as these. I enjoyed more than my fair share of treats on this trip.</td></tr>
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In the meantime, I'm super grateful to my sponsors Montrail and Mountain Hardwear and the amazing opportunity to travel to Japan in a couple of weeks for the Hasetsune Cup, a 71K race in the mountains near Tokyo with an estimated 15,000 feet of uphill (and the same in descent) over many short and steep ups and downs. I'm not sure I've done anything previously that I can compare it to, and I'm hoping to stay upright on what is said to be a very technical and tough run, and one of the oldest and most popular trail races in Japan. Starting at 1 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon with a field of 2000 runners with only one aid station half-way that gives each runner just 1.5 L of water, and run at least half in the dark, it should be an interesting and unique experience. </div>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-23486458237483935252013-08-06T13:58:00.002-04:002013-08-07T14:33:02.962-04:00The joys of USADA and drug tests....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
July was a frustrating month on the drug-testing front. First, they keep coming back. What I thought would be a yearly or at-most quarterly check has been monthly. I failed to update my schedule last week, and got my first missed test violation when they showed up at 6 a.m. Sunday morning at my Portland house (I was in DC). The missed test was completely my fault--I meant to go online last week and check my submitted schedule, but I figured since they had tested me at work a few days before I left for DC there was no chance they'd come back the following week and didn't bother checking whether I'd included my DC trip and lodging information/testing windows while in DC. While the tests are ordered by 2 different agencies (USADA or IAAF), they've still been spaced fairly evenly, or at least not more frequently than monthly. Wrong. This time would have been 10 days between tests. I mean seriously, me, doping? Although that brings me around to the next drug-testing drama.<br />
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A couple of days after returning from Western States I got a very official and legal sounding letter from USADA letting me know that I was being investigated for a potential anti-doping rules violation. Huh? To back-pedal a bit, whenever they come to test, I have to declare what I've taken in terms of vitamins/medications in the 72 hours prior. That usually equates to me declaring my daily Vit D supplement. When I was drug tested in April or May I had indicated that I'd had a Venofer infusion via a 200 mL drip. Venofer is an iron sucrose solution used to treat anemia. It's administered via an IV drip, wherein lies the problem. While iron is not a banned substance, getting an IV infusion of more than 50 mL that's not administered in a hospital setting is not allowed without a Therapeutic Use Exemption (TUE). However, in my case, I didn't need a TUE because it was administered in an out-patient clinic at OHSU which qualifies as a hospital setting. I know this because I checked into all of this BEFORE I got the infusions. That's part of the reason I found the notification so annoying--I went through the proper steps, contacted USADA, asked for clarification prior to treatment, and went ahead, and then got a letter saying that I'd done something wrong. Screw you. I freaked out more than a little when I got the letter even though I knew I'd done nothing wrong. And I wasn't sure how to respond. It was all very official sounding. Did I need a lawyer? Luckily, my primary care physician is great, and works with athletes, and I sent him off the letter from USADA, which he wrote a response to immediately, such that I responded to USADA the same day they sent me the notification. I was cleared of the violation within a week or two, but the whole thing caused me angst and a few tears.<br />
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To me it's just ridiculous to think that I'm probably the only ultra runner in the US currently being tested on an out-of-competition basis. Sabrina and Jon will most likely get put into the pool, but maybe not until next year (I won worlds in April 2012, and wasn't in the pool until February 2013). No one else in the sport needs to worry about getting a violation for using cold medication or an epi-pen should I have an allergic reaction to a bee sting (you can get a post-usage emergency TUE for this, but again, it's the process that's a pain). It's one thing when you're a professional athlete and have nothing to do but lounge around between workouts and wait for USADA folks to show up and worry about applying for TUEs. Running is not my job. I have a regular job and it's already hard to squeeze it all in without worrying about whether going for a run is going to make me miss my testing window. I can also be an irresponsible flake, and simply forget to do things, like pay bills on time or update my whereabouts filing. It would really suck to get 3 missed tests and get a suspension because I'm a flake.<br />
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And then there's the awkwardness around getting tested at work. I'm required to declare a 60-minute window every day of the week. Logistically, it would be difficult to declare my 60 minute window before work (I'm out running many days and the window can't start until 6 a.m. which would mean I couldn't run in the mornings), and after work would mean that I'd have to go home and wait for them every night (I'm often out running, or at the gym or doing something). On the weekends my window is 6-7 a.m. at home, but more often than not, they've come at work during the week ( although they've now come twice on weekend mornings at 6 a.m.). So, work seemed the best option during the week, being that I assumed it would be a once-every-6-months kind of thing, and not something that could actually disrupt my work day.<br />
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The "awkwardness around getting tested at work" comes in few ways. This last test I had just used the bathroom before she arrived, so couldn't produce a sample right away. I tried, and then had to carry my partial sample around with me, and back up to my desk, while I continued to work with my USADA friend in my cube with me until I could finish (I can't leave her sight once she's contacted me). Then there's the "watching you pee" aspect to the test, which at home is no biggie, but when you're in a work bathroom with multiple stalls, and the two of you enter the stall together with others in the bathroom, and are then pouring urine samples into fancy little bottles on the counter...it's got to look a bit strange.<br />
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In the meantime, I'm expecting them today or tomorrow to make up the test I missed Sunday, but maybe it doesn't work that way. Regardless, I now need to be a lot more anal about letting them know my every move because I don't want a second missed test. Three strikes (within 18 months) and you're out. Although in the low-key trail ultra racing world, what does that even mean? Is a non-USATF trail 50 miler going to tell me I can't race?</div>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-36849920803653821952013-07-25T03:38:00.003-04:002013-07-25T20:20:57.781-04:00WS 2013: F(th)ree from Fate (F8)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A nightmare woke me up a few minutes before my alarm was set to go off. The details are fuzzy at this point, but it involved racing a tough mountain 100 miler; Dave Mackey, Hal Koerner and I had all dropped out, and we were huddling next to a rock in the middle of nowhere. I am only superstitious in the days leading up to races, and this didn't seem a good omen, but what was I to do at this point? Explain to my crew that my demise has been portended and that starting could be a pointless endeavor? I also didn't think it wise to share with Dave or Hal at the starting line (sorry, guys!). <br />
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I went into WS with a very loosely defined plan; planning, which requires thinking about the race, makes me nervous, and I try to avoid feeling nervous. I only panicked when I heard reference to others' nutrition plans or crew instructions. I didn't look at splits, and I didn't have a concrete nutrition/hydration plan, except to carry calories and fluid and consume them, enough so to keep running. I told my crew on Friday a few things that they could offer me at aid stations, but not to be surprised if I never touched them. Loosely, I hoped to consume gels every hour until I gagged on a gel, and then figure it out from there. I hoped it would all work itself out, and I never seem to stick to a plan anyhow. I guess my plan was to do what I always do--gels and water/sports drink--until it stops working, because it generally stops working. I hoped that if my legs stayed in it, that my stomach would to.<br />
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Based on last year's rocky second half, I knew what some potential issues might be--dead quads, and/or an the inability to get down enough calories, in part because of renal protest from the dead quads (overworked kidneys from too much metabolic waste coming from tissue damage--or at least that's my hypothesis). The other big factor would be heat, but that would be a factor for everyone, and I'd done a solid 3 weeks of sauna training, and in recent past lives I have lived in sauna-like places, liked heat and liked running in hot weather. I added a mantra to my list, "S<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">oy chaque</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">ñ</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">a" (i</span>n reference to my sometimes oppressively hot Peace Corps home in the Paraguayan Chaco). Most importantly, I wanted to enjoy it--to not have it turn into a slog in those last 40 miles, and especially those last 20, as it had the past 2 years. I really wanted to run around the track, because last year I barely managed to limp around it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pZ1ibPXjh7A/UfDEvkCcW5I/AAAAAAAACGU/PAiV0Yo00EQ/s1600/sis+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pZ1ibPXjh7A/UfDEvkCcW5I/AAAAAAAACGU/PAiV0Yo00EQ/s400/sis+and+me.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lisa and I at check-in on Friday. Photo by Amy AL-khalisi. </td></tr>
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Western States has become what my sister and I refer to as "Sister Camp." I have just one OLDER sister (I can't believe people ask us this question!), and for the past 3 years, WS has become the one week each year when the two of us get to spend some quality time together. I'm uncertain if given the option between a week in Hawaii or a week at WS, Lisa would choose WS, but she sure fakes it enough such that I'd guess that she enjoys WS even more than I do and would choose it over other more exotic destinations. Maybe in a few years we'll move Sister Camp to a beach location, but in the meantime, Squaw Valley to Auburn it is. Lisa crews and then paces me from Hwy 49 to the finish each year, and we both hoped that this year I would be running strong enough to drop her finally. The last 2 years it's been such a trudge to the finish, and Lisa has had no problem hanging with me. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QNEQ7xzOs1o/UemkjjI5EjI/AAAAAAAACD0/lu2umfPOHQQ/s1600/sisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QNEQ7xzOs1o/UemkjjI5EjI/AAAAAAAACD0/lu2umfPOHQQ/s400/sisters.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lisa and I hanging out Statesmas-Eve at the Montrail house. Photo by Jason Leman.</td></tr>
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So, Lisa flew in to Portland on Tuesday night, and we took off late Wednesday afternoon on the road down to Auburn, stopping in Klamath Falls along the way, and arriving in Squaw Valley Thursday afternoon in time to jet over to the panel discussion. I would normally avoid settings such as these before a race, but Ann Trason was talking, and who doesn't want to hear a little something from the woman who dominated the sport (and since disappeared from it) for so long? It was a good mix of advice from seasoned WS veterans, and I was happy to hear, "throw your pace chart out the window," because I hadn't yet created one. Although in my opinion, pace charts are more useful for crews, if only for them to know if they have time to grab a burger and a beer en route to the next stop. I'm usually moving as fast as I think I can/should be, and knowing how that compares to my goal time isn't always a good thing. In general, I had hoped to be sub-19 after 2 years in the 19s.<br />
<br />
Another reason I wasn't stressing about the race was because I was stressing about my calf. About 7 miles into our weekly Tuesday night trail run (10 days before the race) I took a step and felt a twinge in my calf, which was reminiscent of the calf strain I experienced 2 years ago in Marin, but less severe. If 100 rubber bands were released in the calf strain 2 years ago, this one was more like 10 rubber bands letting go. Regardless, I freaked out, and while I could still run home, the calf wasn't great, and kept pinging at me. As luck would have it, I had a previously scheduled chiro/graston appointment scheduled for Wednesday and Dr. Forcum confirmed it was a minor calf strain, but thought I should be OK if I treated it aggressively and took a couple of days off, followed by some light running, with no fast/hard efforts that might re-tweak it during the healing process. I was nervous because while he seemed unconcerned, he still wanted to see me 5 times before the race. I had been feeling like I needed a more severe taper than what my schedule called for, so this forced me to take it. I threw the final workouts out the window--no track work on Thursday (or running), and waited until Friday morning to run gently again. Over the next 7 days, I had 4 sessions (graston, e-stim, ultrasound) at Back in Motion with Dr. Forcum and his team , and 2 massages from my favorite guy, Michael Bilyeu. By Friday it felt normal, although the start up the Escarpment worried me more than a little.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fvVwbbVP-Ys/UfCWtdXbeyI/AAAAAAAACEI/95bqVz01Nmw/s1600/pageant+wave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fvVwbbVP-Ys/UfCWtdXbeyI/AAAAAAAACEI/95bqVz01Nmw/s400/pageant+wave.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The introduction of the top returnees from 2012 and MUC qualifiers. The only place all year (and in my lifetime) I get to practice my pageant wave. Photo by Shahid Ali.</td></tr>
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The Friday pre-race festivities and visiting came and went too quickly, and it was soon time to sleep and get this thing started. Besides the DNF dream, I slept well and didn't feel overly nervous at the start in part because the heat gave me something to worry about other than just racing. Quick hugs to friends and crews and we were off under what was a very different feel from 2012--no gloves, jackets or blowing sleet. The climb up to the Escarpment felt good; I didn't feel like I was working too hard, and was keeping pace with the fast chicks around me. The trail up top, once you pop up and over the Escarpment, is one of my favorite parts of the race. It was also the most pleasant section temperature-wise all day, as being up above 8000 feet it was relatively cool. The sunrise over Lake Tahoe was gorgeous, and I noticed it for the first time in 3 years (last year was too cloudy to be able to see it, but the first year I didn't even realize there was a view of the lake from the top--what can I say, I rarely stop to look behind me during a race). I didn't notice the elevation much--not sure why, as I seem to be one of the few that hasn't jumped on the Hypoxico wagon or doesn't live in a mountain state. I passed Topher at about the same time I passed him last year--a rutty gravely section of road about 8 miles in, and we joked about deja vu. Shortly after passing Toph, and right after Lyon Ridge, I face planted going downhill, and scraped up my left knee. I was bleeding, but oddly, was more concerned about the fact that I chipped a nail. I know. So, while I ran and stewed about some chipped polish, Topher caught back up, some more women came from behind, we caught up to some others, and once things settled out, I ended up running in the vicinity of Kerrie, Aliza, Topher, and Pam, and we all headed into Duncan Canyon together at mile 23. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZwmNbEIpqgE/UfCXVRBplBI/AAAAAAAACEQ/B_oOvJQSnQs/s1600/escarpment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZwmNbEIpqgE/UfCXVRBplBI/AAAAAAAACEQ/B_oOvJQSnQs/s400/escarpment.jpg" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking up the Escarpment in the early morning light. After 3 years, I finally saw Lake Tahoe from the top. Photo by Bob MacGillivray. </td></tr>
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After a few mishaps at Duncan Canyon, including a not-properly-closed bladder, and poor communication by me to my crew on my ice needs, I lost most of the group, but caught back up to Kerrie after leaving the aid station, passed her and within 10 seconds managed to face plant again, this time scraping up the right knee and elbow, but popping back up with no bruised bones (and no further chipped nails). I worked on getting Pam and Aliza, who were a few minutes up at this point, back into view. I felt OK through here, but took it easy and walked more than I should have, perhaps. I caught up to Aliza and Rory just as we were entering the aid station at Robinson Flat, again had a slower stop than either of them, and left the aid station a minute or two behind. I felt like I wasn't pushing too hard, and was running controlled.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-njx12KvO-Sk/UfCYRzAEdXI/AAAAAAAACEg/WxT_huHQh5I/s1600/duncan+canyon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-njx12KvO-Sk/UfCYRzAEdXI/AAAAAAAACEg/WxT_huHQh5I/s400/duncan+canyon.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An early pack of Kerrie, Aliza, Topher, Pam and I heading into Duncan Canyon (mile 24). Photo by Dominic Grossman </td></tr>
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Robinson is always a big lift, as it's a major crew spot, and this year I wasn't quite so antsy about getting through, but rather about getting everything I needed. In general, I was slow through aid stations all day. The heat was such that leaving without a fully filled and iced bladder, or without sunscreen (which I'd forgotten up to this point), could make for a long day. I made a list between aid stations in my head, and tried to recite it as I was coming into each one. Rory and Aliza were out of view when I left, and it took me a few miles to catch them, but I caught them on the road before Miller's Defeat and we entered the next aid station roughly together, and I passed them here or shortly after. I expected to see both of them again in the canyons, if not before. Pam and Joelle were now in front of me, putting me in third. The stretch from Robinson to Dusty and on to Last Chance is one of my favorites (heck, it's all downhill), and I'd put in music after Robinson, which really seemed to provide a boost. My boss at work made me a mix for the race, "Amy's Alt-ered States" and it was super fun. Some favorites mixed in with several things I hadn't heard, along with a couple songs that caused me to laugh out loud.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SF3vL9iP5W8/UfCYu7-i8-I/AAAAAAAACEo/Lc4s7AIZMtQ/s1600/gary++wang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="306" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SF3vL9iP5W8/UfCYu7-i8-I/AAAAAAAACEo/Lc4s7AIZMtQ/s400/gary++wang.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smiling heading into Robinson Flat. Photo by Gary Wang. </td></tr>
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I felt strong coming into Dusty, and heard that Pam and Joelle had switched spots, and that Joelle was just a couple of minutes up. I soon passed Joelle and then stopped to make a somewhat lengthy pit stop, where she caught up to me, but then faded back again. I was a little crushed because I really hoped she'd continue to crush it off the front; she's simply a faster runner than I am, and I'd love to see her have a great day at WS and knock it out of the park. Although I was also excited to think about what a great story Pam's race would be, comparing 2012 to this year. Maybe I should have focused more on trying to catch Pam, but I was just starting to have stomach issues at this point, and was more worried about keeping food down.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ka6qg4ypgvY/UfCZ23FXftI/AAAAAAAACFA/GEJoQKj0ny0/s1600/mich+bluff+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ka6qg4ypgvY/UfCZ23FXftI/AAAAAAAACFA/GEJoQKj0ny0/s400/mich+bluff+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running down into the canyons. Photo by Michigan Bluff Photography. </td></tr>
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I left Last Chance with who I thought was John Burton who I'd met on the initial climb, and couldn't figure out why he wasn't as friendly as he had been earlier when I exclaimed, "You, again!" His accent had changed, but his clothes hadn't. Turns out there were more than a few dudes with completely matching Salomon kits. I would run the rest of the race within a few hundred meters of this new dude (Adrian Lazar), without actually ever running a step with him. We went back and forth throughout the day (and he warmed up to me), and he'd eventually finish seconds in front of me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7cmphyRRPD0/UfCZslVChVI/AAAAAAAACE4/EJEg3NYjc9Y/s1600/psycho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7cmphyRRPD0/UfCZslVChVI/AAAAAAAACE4/EJEg3NYjc9Y/s400/psycho.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the dirt road leaving Devil's Thumb. Great shot by Luis Escobar, but this one frightens me a little bit. Looking slightly possessed.</td></tr>
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I can usually survive on gels until about mile 80 and then start to gag on them. This year that only lasted about 50 miles, and climbing up out of the canyon en route to Michigan Bluff I knew that I needed to take a gel. It'd been a good hour since my last gel, which was probably only #5 or 6 of the day, but I also knew that there was a distinct possibility I'd gag on it. I did, and proceeded to get rid of some really weird looking things from my stomach. I'm guessing it was a combination of 16 oz. of beet juice from the day before, which had dyed everything coming out of every body orifice a brilliant shade of fuschia, and that gummy bear shards were the "things" but I tried to look away. It also resembled organ bits. Suffice it to say, that I was done with gels, officially nauseous and was only half way through.<br />
<br />
I complained to my crew at Michigan Bluff that I'd puked (I generally am strongly against puking and try to avoid it at all costs and am really never a puker except recently in 100 milers). From here on out, I opted out of gels, and switched to gummy bears, coconut water and sprite/coke/ginger ale all in small quantities.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zadkOMrdwac/UfCaCDiWYcI/AAAAAAAACFI/tN2tA1Tvq3k/s1600/fh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zadkOMrdwac/UfCaCDiWYcI/AAAAAAAACFI/tN2tA1Tvq3k/s400/fh.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">High-fiving John Medinger as I pass through Foresthill. Photo by Bob MacGillivray.</td></tr>
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Despite not feeling great and lacking a bit of energy because I couldn't get calories in, my legs felt great, and I arrived in Foresthill looking a little crappy, but generally feeling pretty good. I tend to look a bit intense when I race, and I'd guess this race wasn't much different. I swear, for the most part, I'm having fun. My face just shows it differently than others and some of the race photos scare even me. Foresthill was festive, as always and I was happy to pick up my pacer, Robyn. Robyn, one of my early morning running buddies in Portland, was a WS/ultra newbie, and the absolute perfect choice for a pacer. I'd warned her beforehand that I don't like to be motivated/lied to ("You look great," etc.) and she kept up her end of the bargain, keeping up a fun, light conversation on a variety of topics. At the same time, I could sense from the excitement in the way that she talked about the weekend, her impression of the race thus far, hanging out with the crew, etc. that she was really enjoying the whole experience, and was witnessing a special event. It's really hard to grasp all that goes into a 100 mile trail race without experiencing one for yourself, and Robyn seemed to be soaking it all in, and seemed genuinely happy to be there and be a part of my race.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-etRxVMj7zpI/UfCaup_hRiI/AAAAAAAACFU/YozFHAzMgWs/s1600/aid+station+w+crew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-etRxVMj7zpI/UfCaup_hRiI/AAAAAAAACFU/YozFHAzMgWs/s400/aid+station+w+crew.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is where one of us should have explained to Robyn that her pacing duties were done. Restocking before heading across the river at Rucky Chucky. Alas, it all worked out for the best in the end.</td></tr>
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My crew this year doubled in size from past years, with my sister, Jason, Dylan, and Jill, with Robyn joining until she jumped in to pace me from Foresthill to the river. I had the option of having Jason jump in at Rucky Chucky, but in years past, this section, from Rucky to the finish, has been the one where I've struggled most, and I felt that not having a pacer might actually allow me to push a little harder if I was hurting. I tend to want to put my music on and grunt--not something I like to do in front of a pacer (and to be honest, I'm not sure that I've ever grunted while running, but I thought this year might be the year). As Robyn and I were approaching the river, she asked if I needed her to continue on, and I considered it. She was great company, but I had already planned to tell Jason that I didn't need him to jump in, and decided I wanted to go it alone.<br />
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I guess I assumed, wrongly, that when we got to the river, Robyn would know to stay with the crew, and I guess the crew thought Robyn and I had discussed this, which we had, indirectly, but without specific guidance. Robyn and I had also mentioned several times about getting to the river and how good it would feel, so I'd never actually told Robyn that she didn't actually get to cross the river. So, my crew handed me my headlamp on the nearside, and I crossed the river on foot, which was a joy as I was one of the first to walk across, which had sounded so appealing for so many miles. The river is actually kind of difficult to cross, as there are big rocks that you have to skirt around and over, while trying to hold things like music devices up and out of the chest-high water. There's a reason for that rope there and all of those folks helping to guide the way. I got out of the river on the far side, and low-and-behold, Robyn is behind me. My first thought was "Jason is going to think I intentionally deceived him." My second thought was, "Robyn doesn't have a headlamp and she's in it for the long haul," as the logistics of getting her back to my crew, now on the other side of the river, were more than I wanted to ponder. I shouted out for a spare headlamp, and a very nice guy not only gave us one to borrow, but then chased us up the road to swap it out for something brighter. I also asked if they could somehow let my crew know that my pacer had accidentally crossed the river, although I'm guessing they had no idea what I was talking about. Robyn was smiling, and seemed happy to have crossed the river, and happy to continue the journey, so we were off. And I was happy to have her along for the company. Being that I hadn't noticed Robyn in the water, I also hadn't noticed that Nikki was right behind Robyn, so we soon had even more company, and it was nice to chat with Nikki for a few minutes before she powered off in front of us on the climb up to Green Gate. Nikki helped light a spark under my butt, and I pleaded with myself not to let Nikki put 40 minutes on me like Krissy did when she passed me in the same spot last year. I didn't have a whole lot of fight in me to battle it out for second, but didn't necessarily want to give up any more spots.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PbKDe4FxO5w/UfCbAfNAkSI/AAAAAAAACFk/C5TUh0r3uj4/s1600/river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PbKDe4FxO5w/UfCbAfNAkSI/AAAAAAAACFk/C5TUh0r3uj4/s400/river.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the river. Photo evidence that Robyn (in white behind me) did enter the water and none of us noticed. And Nikki in orange is closing quickly. </td></tr>
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I've heard several comments about what an exciting race it was to "watch" from home, via the webcast or twitter feed, but as is often the case, it's hard to know what's going on behind you, so while there were a number of women in close proximity, I never had any idea how close behind they were until the finish. Once I passed Joelle around mile 40, I only saw one other woman all day, and that was Nikki when she passed me on the way up to Green Gate (mile 78). I guess I saw her twice, because she passed me climbing up, but I caught her again briefly at some point between Green Gate and Alt, but then never saw her again. I would hear that she was 2 or 3 minutes up, but I never closed the gap. I had no idea that Meghan was 5 minutes behind at the river, which is about the difference at the finish. So, while it might have been an exciting race to watch from the aid stations or from an armchair, from the WS trail it was kind of lonely. There was scant male carnage to be passed along the way, although again, some of that male carnage wasn't so much fun to pass (Jorge at mile 90'ish as an example), because they were friends who were not having the days for which they'd hoped and not people I should be passing unless they were suffering. I was 20th at Foresthill, and 16th at the end, so in general, there wasn't much company along the way.<br />
<br />
Robyn, knowing that I wanted to run from the river alone, took it upon herself to become my silent shadow so we plugged along, almost catching Nikki once, and going back and forth with our buddy Adrian, who I'd seen probably 10 times at this point. Somewhere along here Adrian asked if I was Amy, and I asked his name so we officially met around mile 85. Robyn was replaced by Lisa at Hwy 49 (mile 93.5), so recorded her longest run to date (31 miles) both time-wise and distance-wise, and her first experience running trails in the dark. Later reports confirmed that she loved the entire experience, even got a bit choked up when describing it to the rest of the crew, and plans to try a trail race or two in the coming year. My plan worked!<br />
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Lisa jumped in at Hwy 49 and we were off, as I'd seen AJW enter the aid station right behind me, and this lit a little spark. I'd finished ahead of AJW at both Ray Miller and Sonoma earlier in the year, but WS is his race, and I really didn't want to be one of the many that AJW was able to hunt down after Foresthill, so got out of the AS quickly and tried to pick up the pace. Plus, my goal was to drop my sister, so I had some work to do. She hung on until we got to the climb to Robie where I finally succeeded in dropping her. I thought that maybe she let me, but also know that she didn't really want to miss the finish, so I think I officially did it.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wAIREfWvRx4/UfCbKzv_olI/AAAAAAAACFs/HmikHYpocRk/s1600/finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wAIREfWvRx4/UfCbKzv_olI/AAAAAAAACFs/HmikHYpocRk/s400/finish.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finish. Happy to be done.</td></tr>
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Jason was waiting for me at Robie, and Dylan met us en route, as well, and we made it to the track, which I was able to run around, sandwiched in between Adrian who sprinted by me after Robie, and AJW who entered the track as I finished. I finished third in 19:25, so did not meet my time goal of sub-19, and was 14 minutes slower than last year, but 5 places higher. I was thrilled to finish top 3 in that field, and feel like I finally had a good race at Western States on a really tough day. Maybe not a great race, but it was a solid day, considering the conditions, and I'm definitely happy with my race. Temps in Auburn reached 102 on Saturday making it the second hottest WS in history. It was also exciting to be part of the heat-savvy Oregon contingent, bringing home 4 of the top 10 women's spots and 2 of the top 10 men's spots. Pam had an amazing day and got revenge on 2012, Meghan continues to defy the aging process and gives us all hope for running well into our 40s and beyond, and Denise rocked out a great race to take over my favorite number, F8. On the men's side, Yassine had a super solid day, breaking into the top 10 and of course everyone knows how Timmy faired. There are loads of other stories out there, as well, and friends that finished strong and others who didn't finish, but this is already a bit wordy. One of my favorite tales is that told by <a href="http://runningforpancakes.blogspot.com/2013/07/western-states-part-iii-journey.html">Sarah</a> and her pacer, <a href="http://www.runningbecause.com/2013/07/a-bittersweet-journey.html?spref=fb">Desiree</a>. <br />
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Western States is one of those races that feels like you've been away for weeks when in fact it's only been a few days, and it takes some time to adjust after getting back to the real world. Luckily Sister Camp continued on through Monday with a relaxing day on the Oregon coast, but as always, I was sad to send Lisa off on a plane the next day, and am already looking forward to Sister Camp 2014, most likely held once again from Squaw Valley to Auburn.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oXnY7wHPyUw/UfCbft0pQ4I/AAAAAAAACF0/HOX5sj6bNtw/s1600/sis+and+i+and+anpanman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oXnY7wHPyUw/UfCbft0pQ4I/AAAAAAAACF0/HOX5sj6bNtw/s400/sis+and+i+and+anpanman.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lisa, Anpanman and I at the finish. Happy to have made her work a little harder in the final miles, and thrilled to have dropped her.</td></tr>
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Many many thanks to my awesome crew. I had a great crew and pacers, who did an awesome job with the minimal instruction I provided. If anything, it reminded me that they are there to help me, and are making a huge sacrifice to do so, but can only do so much if I don't tell them what I need. My fear of planning is not always 100% helpful. It was also great to see my Uncle Dennis and Aunt Maria who came out to watch the finish and spend Sunday morning in the scorching heat at awards, only hours after a trans-Pacific flight home from Japan. It meant a lot to have them there. And of course hats off to Craig, who knocked it out of the park in his first year as WS RD, and all of the merry volunteers.<br />
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The positives..<br />
My Quads: Rocked it.<br />
Last year my quads were starting to hurt really early, during the earliest descents--and were fairly dead by Michigan Bluff. This year, my quads didn't start to go until after Highway 49, and I only really felt them on the last descent to No Hands Bridge and from Robie Point to the finish. So, I'm not sure what I did differently, except that I backed off in the canyons a bit to not push it in the heat, and also paid attention to how I was landing to baby the calf. Sadly, I can't point to something and say "this worked!" but it does give me hope that I can endure the downs and still run late in a 100 miler, which will become key as UTMB rolls around (and there are more, and steeper downs). My quads were sore on Sunday/Monday, but not horrible, and feeling almost normal by Wednesday or so.<br />
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The Heat: I haven't lost my roots.<br />
The few days leading into the race I kept trying to remind myself that I've lived in hot places 36 of my 39 years on this planet, hopeful that 3 years in the land of cool, green sogginess know as Oregon hadn't permanently damaged my hot weather skills. The heat wasn't horrid, and I felt as prepared for it as I could have been. Sauna training seems to work, or at least fooled me into not feeling miserable. To stay cool I used an ice-filled bandana tied around my neck, which really did help make it feel cooler. I also drenched myself in every water opportunity that arose (creeks, aid stations). My feet survived surprisingly well considering that they were wet all day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rr5SIuAdP4k/UfCbtVdiZ5I/AAAAAAAACF8/mePMzh9cNe0/s1600/smiling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rr5SIuAdP4k/UfCbtVdiZ5I/AAAAAAAACF8/mePMzh9cNe0/s400/smiling.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I may not have been smiley all day, but I was definitely smiling here. Only minutes after this photo was taken, a wave of nausea returned and I was curled in the grass yacking up nothing and my face went a bit gray, but that was short-lived and I was eating pizza an hour later. Definitely the best I've felt after WS.</td></tr>
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The negatives...<br />
Nutrition: What 16 oz. of beet juice looks like the next day.<br />
I'd guess I'm not exaggerating much to say I ran the last 50 miles on well under 1000 calories (and probably closer to 500), and likely consumed not more than 1000 in the first 50, too. First half diet: many oz. of water, 5-6 gels, 70 oz very watered down sports drink (weak, then added in ice), 1 popsicle, 10 gummy bears (minus several that were rejected after El Dorado Creek), sprite/coke at aid stations. Second half: max 20 gummy bears (minus a few that were rejected after Cal 1), a couple slices of watermelon, 2 potato chips (didn't end well), a glass of sprite/coke at every aid station (except Cal 1 where I tried to drink 2 and they were rejected), a cup of chicken noodle soup at 89, a water bottle's worth of coconut water that took me from Foresthill to Alt to finish, and starting at Brown's Bar, about 20 oz of diluted sports drink. I drank water in addition, more in the first half than the second. So, I'd guess I consumed somewhere less than 2000, maybe closer to 1500. Not ideal, but it was enough to get me to the end, although I'd count that as my one major area of failure on race day. I knew that nutrition could be a problem, and didn't really seek to change anything up, and proceeded with what I know doesn't really work for me. For me, I think I need to try some real food sooner (because once I start gagging I just can't do anything I have to chew and swallow), and/or switch to drinking more of my calories, and starting to drink them earlier.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a0ycPnnW1Do/UfCb3-CxhtI/AAAAAAAACGE/I7QofcKO-uY/s1600/awards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a0ycPnnW1Do/UfCb3-CxhtI/AAAAAAAACGE/I7QofcKO-uY/s400/awards.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 2013 top 10. An awesome group of women there, and 40% from Oregon. The 2012 IAU women's 100K gold medal team also represented taking F1, F3 and F4. Go Team USA. Hoping we get to show our stuff in South Africa later this fall.</td></tr>
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Gear: </div>
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Montrail Masochists (lucky red ones from Japan)</div>
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Mountain Hardwear W's Ultrapacer Short II</div>
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Mountain Hardwear W's Way2Cool Tank</div>
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Mountain Hardwear Fluid Race Vest</div>
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Injinji Run 2.0 Midweight Mini-crew</div>
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Ice-filled Bandana--homemade </div>
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Thanks to my sponsors, Montrail, Mountain Hardwear, Injinji and Clif for the awesome support!</div>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-32907302075739203272013-06-05T10:58:00.000-04:002013-06-11T13:49:02.874-04:00Shibamata 100K: On finishing 2nd<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If you want a happy feel-good race report, skip this one, and read the <a href="http://amysproston.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-orhangazi-80k-weekend-to-remember.html">previous post</a>.<br />
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I'm a stickler for details, and I tend to dwell on things. But, I need to move past last weekend, so I'm going to write the story how it happened, because I can't tell it any other way. And then I'm not going to talk about it or stew any more. Because right now it's driving me fucking crazy. And I'm sick of answering the question, "How was the race?"<br />
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Meghan said to just say we tied, because we tried to, and no one can read the Japanese results anyway. That's not exactly true. The results are out there. So what do I say when people ask me, "So, did you win?" Answering that question in any form is complicated. I can say I was second, but that doesn't tell the story. I can't say that I tied for the win, because the race results indicate differently, and the race organizers have confirmed (after I complained) that Meghan was the winner. Not that the people I'm telling would know, or really care, but I do. So, while I'd like to just write that the Shibamata 100K was a great experience and finishing hand-in-hand with my friend and mentor was really special, I don't feel that way. At all. Yes, I mentioned I tend to dwell on things and can be a bit petty, as writing this would indicate. But I went to Tokyo to race, and would not have suggested a tie had I had any idea I would have finished second in the process. It's one thing to be outrun for second, but I wasn't outrun. I've happily been outrun by Meghan many times. If Meghan had outrun me, I would have graciously stood beside my friend on the podium. But instead I stewed. I had run slower than I would have in the second half and waited on a few occasions while Meghan used the bathroom, so that we could run and finish together. And to not call a tie a tie, which the race organizers refuse to do even though we finished hand-in-hand clearly intending to tie, is complete bullshit. For whatever reason the results really mattered to me.<br />
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The race started at 8 a.m. and we went out at a good pace (averaged 7:12 for the first 50K). We came through the marathon split around 3:08, and the 50K around 3:44. I felt good, physically, the harder part of the race was mental, and I was bored more than anything else. It was warm and sunny for the first 5 hours (probably 75 by 1 p.m.) until some cloud cover rolled in. My stomach felt good all day, and besides a pee-break in the first half, I never needed to stop. I did feel a bit water-logged at times, but I was able to get gels down throughout, and just stopped drinking whenever I started to feel sloshy.<br />
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At some point after the midway point, I assumed that Meghan and I were not going to be challenged (out-and-back nature of course made it easy to see the competition), so I suggested we finish together. The course was flat and tedious, and company for the last half sounded much more appealing than going it alone. Plus we'd made the journey over together, had shared the experience together, along with many others, and it would mean a lot to tie. So I suggested it. And we did. Well, at least we crossed the finish line hand-in-hand.<br />
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Lessons learned:<br />
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If I learned anything this past weekend, it's that I'm really freaking competitive, and I took an option this past weekend that I probably wouldn't consider again after the experience on Saturday. I wanted to win that race. Or tie with my friend for the win. If I'd known that my suggestion to tie was impossible because of a timing system, I would have raced the second half and pushed the pace.<br />
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Never try to tie when there is chip timing and a culture you're unfamiliar with involved. At least not unless you're willing to accept second place graciously. I was not. <br />
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Run your own race. Had I run my own race in the second half and finished second, I would have no one to blame but myself.<br />
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Saturday reinforced that while I love running for the US team in the World 100K, a flat road 100K is not actually a race that I would opt to do very often (once a year is enough). Prior to the race, the idea of an out-and-back actually sounded more interesting than a loop, but for a 100K road race, a loop format now makes a lot of sense--easier aid, better crowd support. Of course an out-and-back through a more varied landscape or a more heavily populated area might not be so bad. Based off of my reaction to the results, I won't be invited back, but I'm OK with that. It's not the type of race that calls to me. It's no UTMB.<br />
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Running 100K on roads reinforced that I would rather race 100K on trails any day of the week. The course was fairly brutal--45K out and 45K back and then 5K out and 5K back along a flat bike path. I'm from flat open spaces, and there's a reason I live and run in Oregon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eyIEu9MK8kE/Ua7IzpfehgI/AAAAAAAACC8/MVQSqXiNUro/s1600/course.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eyIEu9MK8kE/Ua7IzpfehgI/AAAAAAAACC8/MVQSqXiNUro/s320/course.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A shot from the race course. Not a single spot of shade (well, a highway underpass or two, which also resulted in the only hills on course). </td></tr>
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The positives:<br />
I'm fit. We ran 7:50 (7:50:31 and 32, to be exact) and I felt like I could have run 10 minutes faster if I'd run my own race in the second half. It was a hot day--sunny, windy and exposed--and the aid situation wasn't ideal in terms of speedy racing (had to stop to get aid/fill bottles instead of running through aid stations, like at worlds), so I was pleased with where I am fitness-wise on that course with those conditions. I ran 10 miles Tuesday night and my legs felt OK, so I hope that means I'm recovering quickly and in time to get some good WS training in before tapering.<br />
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I had no issues except that my hamstrings/butt got pretty tight. But I felt strong, and didn't have any major physical issues. Well, my feet got pretty trashed, but blisters are more of a problem once you're finished. They didn't affect my race.<br />
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I got to finish hand-in-hand and cross the line "together" with my friend and mentor. I just wish that I wasn't so hung up on the results such that I could enjoy that detail.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AYKNOKv6v7g/Ubdi9w7MLAI/AAAAAAAACDM/eJQpCc52uBU/s1600/finish+line.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AYKNOKv6v7g/Ubdi9w7MLAI/AAAAAAAACDM/eJQpCc52uBU/s400/finish+line.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finish.</td></tr>
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I learned a lot about myself. Most of the things I learned are not positive things--I have my share of personality flaws, and this race exposed them. It was a lesson in what I need to work on. An example being the fact that I know exactly what happened and how the race unfolded and what the intent was, and just because the race results don't indicate that drives me nuts. Also, I could have graciously accepted the decision and made a much better impression, but I didn't. Instead, I complained. And it looked especially bad because I, the one who finished second, was the one questioning the results. I could go on, but I feel bad enough about myself as it is. All races teach you something, but this one revealed more than I wanted to see.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xyy7eokyncg/Ua7IC4ukcaI/AAAAAAAACC0/laeQ4m3yqm0/s1600/podium+shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xyy7eokyncg/Ua7IC4ukcaI/AAAAAAAACC0/laeQ4m3yqm0/s400/podium+shot.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Podium shot. I had no idea of the results until we were called up on stage. My face = "are you fucking kidding me?" Photo by Mikio Miyazoe.</td></tr>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-28474637911036755412013-05-30T20:34:00.002-04:002013-06-14T13:23:23.332-04:00The Orhangazi 80K: A weekend of meatballs and kaymak<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I had very few expectations heading into the <a href="http://www.iznikultra.com/">Orhangazi 80K</a> in Turkey. I'd just raced Lake Sonoma the weekend prior, and the week in between wasn't great in terms of recovery. It included: a post-Sonoma photo shoot in high winds and unseasonally cold temps while running strides for 13 hours, 3 flights, a barge ride, and a car trip (all told totaling a couple of days worth of travel). So I was a little startled when I saw a tweet from the Iznik Ultra congratulating me on my Sonoma race and saying they were "excited to see my talent" the following week in Iznik. That comment made me a bit nervous, as I would be running on tired legs and not planning to "display any talent."<br />
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At some point in the last few years irunfar.com published a story on trail running in Turkey. Last year, before I headed to Istanbul for a work trip, I contacted the author of the story to ask about where to run, and to see if anyone might want to meet up for a weekend run. This resulted in me being picked up from my hotel at 4:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning to go run in the Belgrad Forest with 5 guys. A colleague expressed concern as to whether this was safe—going to run in the dark forest with a group of strangers (all male). I assured them it was totally legit--ultrarunners are ultrarunners the world around--although I think my colleague was skeptical. However, I was right, the guys were great, and we enjoyed a nice long run on muddy trails, followed by arguably one of my favorite meals of 2012--a post-run breakfast where I was introduced to Turkish crack (kaymak--pictured below). </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8s3-_Z6b7qY/UafUez58IkI/AAAAAAAACB0/FoOz6dsg1zg/s1600/crack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8s3-_Z6b7qY/UafUez58IkI/AAAAAAAACB0/FoOz6dsg1zg/s320/crack.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I always meant to blog about that morning on the trails with my new Turkish running friends, but I flew home the next day, and as a result of that flight ended up with <a href="http://amysproston.blogspot.jp/2012/03/plane-pain-diagnosis-dvt.html">DVT </a>in my right calf, which resulted in a <a href="http://amysproston.blogspot.jp/2012/03/from-dvt-to-pe.html">pulmonary embolism</a> and 3-day hospital stay that overshadowed my lovely Turkish trail running experience. Recovery and stressing about whether I could run at Worlds became my primary focus. However, through email, FB and DailyMile, I kept in touch with my new friends, and one of them (Aykut) emailed me when he read on my blog that I would be visiting Istanbul again for work. I wrote back with the dates, and apologized for not being able to run the Iznik Ultras, which were happening the weekend I arrived, because I was racing Lake Sonoma 50 the weekend prior. He wrote back within minutes, explaining an itinerary that would make it work--I could simply adjust my schedule to arrive 2 days earlier, and I could opt for the 42K, taking into account that I would have just raced Sonoma. This suddenly sounded like a grand idea, except the thought of a 42K after a 50 miler sounded horrible (too short and fast), so I told him I’d prefer the 75K, which I could treat as a slow suffer-fest and recovery slog. With a rapid exchange of emails, and approval from work, I had committed myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I arrived in Istanbul on Thursday afternoon, after a long 20 plus hours of travel. I'd been home in Portland all of about 36 hours between returning from the long Lake Sonoma weekend, and that included a long work day, with a bonus visit at work from USADA for my second drug test in 6 weeks, and enough time to squeeze in an iron IV drip Wednesday morning before heading to the airport. I was toast when I arrived in Turkey, but I managed to stay awake long enough to eat dinner. Aykut, Caner (RD extraordinaire) and friends had graciously attended to all of the details of my trip to Iznik. Bright and early the next morning, I was picked up at my hotel to head to the ferry for the trip to Iznik. Iznik is located only about 90 km SE from Istanbul, but part of that 90 km is across the Gulf of Izmit, so the trip to Iznik includes a ferry ride, followed by an hour drive.<br />
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One of the carrots that Aykut had used to get me to agree to run the race was that Iznik had the best meatballs in the world. I'm going to have to agree with Aykut on this one, and we made our first of many meatball stops shortly after getting into town Friday before noon. Meatballs were followed by race check-in, mandatory gear check, and some down-time in the park drinking Turkish coffee with last year's group and meeting some new friends. Feeling antsy, I opted to get in a quick shake-out run before dinner as the 2 days of travel had me feeling tight and in need of some movement. I felt incredibly uncoordinated during my short 3-mile run along the lake, and things hurt, in general. To top it off, I managed to face plant on concrete, losing a good chunk of skin from my left palm and knee. Not looking good. I lost enough skin that I was a little worried about falling again the next day.</div>
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There was a pre-race pasta feed later that night, and I was surprised by the attention I received. I was interviewed on camera, and had several people come up and ask me to pose with them in pictures. People seemed genuinely excited to have me there racing. I wanted to interject at least a few times, "Don't be disappointed, because I'm not planning to race!" I really wasn't trying to sandbag; I was tired.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zj8Am_HWx7E/Uae-wWc2MOI/AAAAAAAACAw/fc_R3vtg7MU/s1600/map.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="155" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zj8Am_HWx7E/Uae-wWc2MOI/AAAAAAAACAw/fc_R3vtg7MU/s400/map.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The route around the lake, passing up into the hills to the south, and along the lake to the north, it's got a little bit of everything.</td></tr>
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In its second year, the Iznik Ultras offered 3 distances: 42K (Mountain Marathon), 80K (Orhangazi Ultra), and 130K (Iznik Ultra) (last year’s inaugural version offered two distances: 60K and 130K). All 3 distances start at the same time together in the center of the town of Iznik and follow the same route, with the 130K completely encircling Lake Iznik. The 42K stops in the village of Narlica, which is the fourth check point in both the 80K and 130K. The 80K follows the 130K course until 75K, and then turns off and adds 5K to finish in the town of Oranghazi (the 80K was slated to be a 75K until just a couple of weeks before the race, when it was changed so that it would finish in the town plaza in Orhangazi, adding on 5K). And the 130K completes the loop around the lake, finishing where it started in Iznik. There were around 220 starters spread across the 3 races.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mHCJuCRj-jc/UaeyO-mkR0I/AAAAAAAACAQ/ZS9icQUdyEg/s1600/pre-race.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mHCJuCRj-jc/UaeyO-mkR0I/AAAAAAAACAQ/ZS9icQUdyEg/s320/pre-race.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">With friends, Kerem and Aykut, at the start. The token self portrait. I was absolutely not nervous, which almost never happens. I guess racing a 50 miler the week prior helps calm nerves. Photo by me (obviously).</td></tr>
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The race starts in the center of Iznik, and runs through town and out one of the three town "gates". Excuse the butchered and very short history lesson, but the town of Iznik was formerly known as Nicaea and some important points in its history include its stint as the interim capitol of the Byzantine Empire (1204-1261) and it's where the Nicene Creed (church goers) was written (325). The ancient town was surrounded by a 10 m wall, which still exists, at least in part, and the only way into and out of the city was through 3 gates on the land-bound sides of town. The race route leads you south through one of these historic gates, and within a couple of miles, heads up into the hills around Iznik.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qIuuSY-5-pY/UaevL9V_bhI/AAAAAAAAB_4/OTPmsTcVW7M/s1600/gate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qIuuSY-5-pY/UaevL9V_bhI/AAAAAAAAB_4/OTPmsTcVW7M/s400/gate.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Heading out of Iznik through the historic gates of town before we head up into the hills. Race photo.<br />
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The 80K includes about 6000 feet of elevation gain, and while this doesn't sound like much, it's all within the first 60K, as the last 20K is pretty much flat (as is the rest of the 130K race). So, for both the 80K and 130K, almost all of the elevation change is within the first 60K. The course is a nice mix of single track, double track, and gravel road, with some pavement mixed in, too. I think the course is challenging in that all the climbing is done initially, and then when you are the most tired, you hit the flats where you feel like you should be pushing the pace. Add in a bit of mud, and the course is not one to taken lightly. It's definitely a very runnable course, and with the exception of bits of the first long climb (red), the first section of the second big climb (green section after 42K), and the shoe sucking mud portion (from 60-63K--see picture below) I ran nearly all of it. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jb8yv_v3vrU/Uae1JxvQ4JI/AAAAAAAACAg/ByuxB1lb9JA/s1600/course+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jb8yv_v3vrU/Uae1JxvQ4JI/AAAAAAAACAg/ByuxB1lb9JA/s400/course+map.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
So, at the start I hung back while lining up, but once the race began, moved up to the front and ran with the lead guys out of town. There was a group of 5 of us by the time we headed up the first climb, and I ran with a couple of the guys before letting them go. I might have misunderstood what one of them said to me, but my take on it was that he had been excited to run with the world champion, but that I was moving a little too slow, so he was going to go on ahead and to have a nice day. Again, my understanding of his message might be a bit off. So, as we climbed up a windy road, I could see them ahead for a while, but then they were soon out of site.<br />
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Just after passing the first checkpoint at 13 km I could see a good portion of the upcoming climb along a gravel road and there was no one in site. This would become a common theme. I couldn't figure out how those guys got so far ahead of me, being that I could see for several minutes ahead of me. Alas, it didn't matter much, as they were dudes, and I had no idea of in what race they were even entered. It did give me something to chase, because while I don't necessarily feel the need to race against the men, it was nice to have some targets up ahead to try to catch and maybe for some company down the road. I was impressed by how much ground they'd put on me being that I was actually feeling pretty good, and moving really well. But I also wasn't sure where the course went, so maybe it turned off the endless road that I could see into the distance. Heading into the race, I'd been a little nervous about following the course, as there wasn't much of a map with directions, but the course was impeccably well marked with white ribbons, and never went more than a couple hundred meters without seeing one. The turns were very clearly indicated, and would be hard to miss, unless you zoned out for a while.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ye1VFZxK3HA/UafTDoQvsSI/AAAAAAAACBg/jf9pN4P0E00/s1600/running+early.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ye1VFZxK3HA/UafTDoQvsSI/AAAAAAAACBg/jf9pN4P0E00/s400/running+early.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading down towards the first check point. Race photo.</td></tr>
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The course continued to roll along for several miles up top with nice gradual ups and downs that were all very runnable. We passed by locals out tending their flocks, and with green views of the surrounding hills and farms, it was scenic. A phone had been part of the mandatory gear list, so I stopped to snap a few photos along the way, regretting the fact that I didn't get one of some of the adorable couples out tending their flocks, or of the crowd of women and girls cheering for us in one village. There were people out along the way and they gave a nod or shout of encouragement.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--JuUJsYxUYI/UafBiGjOWNI/AAAAAAAACBA/NQdE2uspwNQ/s1600/up+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--JuUJsYxUYI/UafBiGjOWNI/AAAAAAAACBA/NQdE2uspwNQ/s320/up+top.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The views from above. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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I hadn't seen anyone since the first climb when the guys ran away from me, and there was no one behind me either, so I pretty much ran alone until we started to come down off of the first climb, and a guy in black caught up to me. We nodded and high-fived, and it was quickly apparent that I didn't speak Turkish and he didn't speak much English. We continued to run together through the aid station and started to descend together down to the checkpoint that would be the 42K finish. The descent lasted for a few miles, and at some point he fell back, and I never saw him again. He was my only company all day. I would later learn that he was in the 42K, and was the eventual winner of the 42K race. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YFsd6vIrDtQ/UXlw-be7swI/AAAAAAAAB8U/Hd-mFdFFvyY/s1600/downtown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YFsd6vIrDtQ/UXlw-be7swI/AAAAAAAAB8U/Hd-mFdFFvyY/s320/downtown.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We passed through several small quaint villages, and there were more folks cruising around on tractors then cars. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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The long descent drops you onto the asphalt where you start to climb back into the town where the 42K finishes. Coke was sounding really appealing, so I downed a couple glass of coke, and continued up out of town, on what I had been warned was the tougher of the two climbs. It was a welcome relief to hike for a bit, so I took advantage of the steep climb to refuel (gummy critters and a gel) and recover a bit. After a couple of miles the climb starts to level off, and becomes runnable again. About this time, I started to hear gun shots, which freaked me out a bit. I came around a bend in the road and a police officer was wandering towards me talking on his phone. Passing him, I continued to hear gun shots, which continued to freak me out, especially as I was running right towards them, but being that the police man didn't seem to care that I ran by him towards the gun shots, I figured I wasn't about to die. I reasoned that police men around the world would not let you run directly into a group of thugs prepared to pummel you with bullets. Rounding the next bend was a group of police men shooting at nothing into the air. At least I wasn't going to die, but the adrenalin was flowing by this point.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tKvwjMl1RMU/UafTnte9i3I/AAAAAAAACBo/YJ1uV2lJhZg/s1600/running+through+checkpoint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tKvwjMl1RMU/UafTnte9i3I/AAAAAAAACBo/YJ1uV2lJhZg/s320/running+through+checkpoint.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading through a check point mid-race. The race had a nifty system where you wore little plastic "keys" that you inserted into the boxes on the table. Like a timing chip, but without the mat (also used mats at other aid stations). Photo by Aysin Ozer Baskir</td></tr>
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The payoff to the second big climb, was a really nice long descent (about 10K worth) down to the 60K check point. I was feeling surprisingly good, and my legs felt relatively great for 60K into a race the week after an 80K. Coke was still sounding good, so I downed another 2 or 3 glass of coke in my re-usable cup, a hunk of cheese which the aid station man, confused by my insistence on only coke, encouraged me to take. The cheese was delicious, and for the next several kilometers I lamented the fact that I hadn't grabbed more cheese.<br />
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The 3K section after the 60K checkpoint was hands down, my least favorite portion of the course. I'd heard stories of the mud the prior year, but this year the course was in pretty good shape, and the mud on the first 60K had been minimal. Shoes had gotten wet a few places, but it wasn't bad. The 3K section was shoe sucking mud, which was hard to walk through, and running really wasn't much of an option for parts. So, I slogged, fearing that the rest of the course would be like this. It did run through olive groves, which at least added some interest besides the mud factor. At some point late in my slog, a motorcycle passed and I figured out the secret to getting through this section--the grass to the sides, although the grass was pretty boggy, as well. 3K of muck isn't bad though, and it did eventually end, and was even so kind to end at a river crossing, so all of the muck was quickly washed away.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_le_G1JSesA/UXlxd6zcRlI/AAAAAAAAB8w/s0MmhoBPaUY/s1600/mud+and+olives.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_le_G1JSesA/UXlxd6zcRlI/AAAAAAAAB8w/s0MmhoBPaUY/s320/mud+and+olives.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The shoe-sucking mud section although this photo does not do it justice. Luckily this section was only 3K, because it involved a lot of walking and navigation around large shoe-sucking sections. I lost my shoe once. The white thing you can see hanging from a tree (olive trees) is the flagging. The course was marked exceptionally well. Not sure how people got off course, but they did, and some even complained. Some things are universal. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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The payoff to getting through the muck was some lovely running alongside the lake. Even though the day was overcast, there were still some nice views of the distant hills across the lake. I appreciated having my iPhone along to take pictures, which helped me to swear less under my breath at the mandatory gear list, and weight of the pack I'd been lugging around all day. The part of me that was the most tired during the race was definitely my back, as it's still early in the season, and my UTMB gear-hauling runs haven't yet begun.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OCrQhMqoHJw/UXlxKH8FwnI/AAAAAAAAB8c/GLQtwAMYQSA/s1600/lake2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OCrQhMqoHJw/UXlxKH8FwnI/AAAAAAAAB8c/GLQtwAMYQSA/s320/lake2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view along the lake around 15K from the finish. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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The last 17K were pretty uneventful. I was getting tired of running, but it was flat, so I felt like I should run, and saw running as the quickest way to the finish line and to stop running. The route takes you along the lake on a dirt road, and eventually onto pavement for a few K, before running along another dirt road right along the lake. The 75K aid station finally appeared, and the turn-off into the town of Orghangazi for the 80K finish. The last 5K was interesting, as it was a last-minute add-on in order to get us to the town center to finish, and took us on road, through "yards", down side streets, under a busy highway, and eventually onto a main street down town. There was a good crowd gathered at the finish, and I had an escort for parts of it, along with some boys that ran in the final couple of blocks ringing cowbells.<br />
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When I finished, I asked how many people had finished before me and was surprised to find out that I'd not only finished first overall, but had come through all of the checkpoints in first, as well--even that first one at 13K. The 4 guys that had taken off on the first climb all missed an early turn, and had lost 10 minutes or so wandering around, and were all entered in the 42K regardless. No wonder I never saw them. The guy who had caught up to me on the downhill around km 27 or so was one of those first 4 guys who'd gotten lost and ended up winning the 42K. In hindsight, I finished far enough ahead of the 2nd woman (and 1st guy) that I could have relaxed and not pushed the pace, but not knowing where anyone else is in the field, it's hard to know when to relax. For all I knew, there was someone 5 minutes behind me. I didn't necessarily understand what was being said to me throughout the day along the course. I also felt great (relatively speaking) all day, and while I was running hard, felt good, and didn't feel like I left it all out there. I finished in 7:13, which I'm definitely happy with, especially after running an 8:04 at Sonoma the weekend prior. The courses were very different, but both challenging, and I loved both of them for different reasons. Iznik was different though, in that unlike during most races when at some point at a low point I find myself asking myself what the heck I'm doing out there, I never questioned why I was out there racing during Iznik. I had fun the entire way and loved the experience.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UKlz73pmf28/UafSU9PfY2I/AAAAAAAACBQ/dkslWEPMViY/s1600/finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UKlz73pmf28/UafSU9PfY2I/AAAAAAAACBQ/dkslWEPMViY/s400/finish.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing in Orhangazi. Race photograph.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mbB5LHowcrg/UXlxcAqcMuI/AAAAAAAAB8s/35UPj8vKKqg/s1600/post-race.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mbB5LHowcrg/UXlxcAqcMuI/AAAAAAAAB8s/35UPj8vKKqg/s320/post-race.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made a few new friends who were practicing their English on me. We didn't get much past "My name is..." but we tried. Photo from my phone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--LmbfuTsIMs/UXlxo7xGBLI/AAAAAAAAB88/gBZxuFcVUxQ/s1600/top+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--LmbfuTsIMs/UXlxo7xGBLI/AAAAAAAAB88/gBZxuFcVUxQ/s320/top+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With new friends Alessia and Sirin. The women's podium in the 80K. Photo from my phone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U9rTH91BEws/UafSwTWCEPI/AAAAAAAACBY/4j4IcM3qszs/s1600/interview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U9rTH91BEws/UafSwTWCEPI/AAAAAAAACBY/4j4IcM3qszs/s400/interview.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coraline acting as translator post-race. Photo by TC Serkan Baslams (?). </td></tr>
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A fun video that was produced (I pop up several times):<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0IsOites7nM" width="560"></iframe></span><br />
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I wanted to see all of my friends finish, so I hung out at the finish for several hours, which I really enjoyed. Coraline was working at the finish, and kept me company and acted as translator, which was very sweet of her. My friends all eventually finished, so we departed for Iznik in time to see Aykut and Elena finish the 130K, as well. Post-run celebrations consisted of another trip to the meatball restaurant and several desserts with kaymak topping. I was in heaven.<br />
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Sunday included a 10K race, followed by the awards ceremony. For those into race medals, the medal for Iznik is worth the trip alone--it's a hand-painted tile made in Iznik (Iznik is know for its ceramics), and the podium awards included a beautiful framed hand-painted tile that is both unique and beautiful. And before heading out of town, we hit the meatball restaurant one final time for one final round of meatballs and kaymak-themed deserts.<br />
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It's hard to go back to reality after a fun race weekend away, but the reality of Monday morning was there much too soon, and I was back to real life and co-facilitating a training for 40 Mercy Corps staff on USG grant rules and regulations. This was actually the real reason I was in Turkey. But in addition to work, the rest of the week included a number of additional meet-ups with my running buddies Kerem, Aykut, Caner and Ilgaz for runs along the Bosphorus, in the Belgrad forest, more post-run breakfasts and kaymak, and a night out in Istanbul. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vdae0f4M5f4/UafV1MN1MwI/AAAAAAAACCE/-v5ebb7r8N4/s1600/sunrise+bosphorous.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vdae0f4M5f4/UafV1MN1MwI/AAAAAAAACCE/-v5ebb7r8N4/s400/sunrise+bosphorous.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken during a sunrise run along the Bosphorus. Photo: me.</td></tr>
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Ultra runners around the world are just awesome. The community there took me in, and made me feel like one of the family, and I was truly bummed to leave. I became reacquainted with friends from last year, and made many new ones. It was really hard to go home and leave these guys when it was time to go. Runners around the world are a unique bunch, and it's always a community that's easy to enter into as a visitor, but my Turkish running buddies are not just running buddies, but good friends, and I could have stayed indefinitely. Many thanks to my friends Aykut, Caner, Ilgaz and Kerem who served as awesome hosts, and took me under their wing(s). I appreciated all of their efforts to make me feel at home. And to Caner, the RD, who puts on a top-notch event; I was honored to be invited to participate. I'll hope to come back soon, and in the meantime, to meet up with all of you to run again. See you at UTMB!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DKjeZpAYIM4/UahjoacyHMI/AAAAAAAACCU/OhfXC_8t5fs/s1600/kaymak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DKjeZpAYIM4/UahjoacyHMI/AAAAAAAACCU/OhfXC_8t5fs/s320/kaymak.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah, kaymak. Dreaming of our next encounter. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xpar2we9HfU/UahjqkBIifI/AAAAAAAACCc/2jUlst8_QTQ/s1600/beer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xpar2we9HfU/UahjqkBIifI/AAAAAAAACCc/2jUlst8_QTQ/s320/beer.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying beers in Istanbul with Ilgaz and Caner, RD extraordinaire. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tPO-8SApuWE/UahjsY2HvGI/AAAAAAAACCk/idYlvuHvR7A/s1600/belgrad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tPO-8SApuWE/UahjsY2HvGI/AAAAAAAACCk/idYlvuHvR7A/s320/belgrad.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saturday run in the Belgrad Forest, the week after the race. Kerem, Elena, Aykut and Caner. Someone forgot to give Aykut the memo on what to wear.</td></tr>
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It seems my body reacts very strongly to leaving Turkey, as well, and I’m now 0-2 flying home from Istanbul. No DVT this time, but this trip I managed to faint mid-flight in my seat, and while I was passed out, peed my pants. That was embarrassing. And humbling. Which after all the attention that was paid to me my week in Turkey was probably a good way to shrink my ego back to appropriate size. When I faint, I tend to pass out for at least a few seconds, and the Dutch guy next to me was looking fairly freaked out when I came to. I ended up laid out in the galley with an oxygen tank, a doctor and a crew of concerned flight attendants. Thanks to the dear Delta flight attendant who loaned me her yoga pants. Wetting yourself 5 hours into a 10 hour flight is awkward, at best. Also embarrassingly, it was a scene from a movie that caused me to faint (a bloody scene in The Impossible). I wanted to finish the movie, but couldn't risk another fainting episode, because I wasn't sure if I would find anyone to loan me a second pair of pants.<o:p></o:p><br />
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If you find yourself in Turkey in April, I highly recommend this one. Or better yet, find a way to get yourself to Turkey in April. </div>
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com166tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-30879601399075072482013-05-16T20:01:00.003-04:002013-05-20T16:34:31.270-04:00Lake Sonoma 50: a wee bit after the fact<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The last month has been a whirlwind, and has left me feeling very fortunate, a bit nostalgic, pretty fit, and short on time to write about it. This past weekend was the first one at home in over a month, and looking ahead, the summer and fall will continue at a somewhat frenetic pace. Sadly, Portland has been having the type of spring that you never want to miss a day of--sunny and warm--almost too much sun for my liking, but as much as I like the rain, I can't say that I actually dislike the sun. I just like to be contrary. Flying back from Turkey a couple of weeks ago into Portland and again last Sunday from Illinois I was so happy to be home. Flying over the Pacific Northwest--past Mt. Hood, along the Columbia River Gorge, and over the very green landscape into PDX-- makes me realize how very lucky I am to live in a place that I love. But I'm also lucky to be able to get out frequently and see other places in the world that I love to visit--most recently to California for the Lake Sonoma 50, on to Istanbul, Turkey for work with a stop first at Lake Iznik for the Orhangazi 80K, and then last weekend back to Monmouth, Illinois, my hometown.<br />
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There's really no better way to forget a 50 miler then to run a second one the week following. I had a blast at Sonoma, but had an even more amazing time at the Iznik Ultras in Turkey, such that they kind of overshadow my memories of Sonoma. Sonoma felt like a family reunion, and John and crew do an excellent job with the pre-race pasta feed, post race tamale-feed, and Sunday wine tasting. There's just enough organization to feel like it's a weekend of activities, with enough free time to relax a bit and enjoy lovely Sonoma County. For me it really was a family reunion, of sorts, because my aunt and uncle drove up from San Jose for the weekend for their first ultra experience.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xP5SPIrhRdE/UZLu2_tjbGI/AAAAAAAAB-s/oMRkj1P7l90/s1600/dennis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xP5SPIrhRdE/UZLu2_tjbGI/AAAAAAAAB-s/oMRkj1P7l90/s400/dennis.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Denny and I at the pre-race dinner.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HqmN4B1CE0Q/UZLu-zkrt7I/AAAAAAAAB-0/Nxil6d4HxNU/s1600/maria.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HqmN4B1CE0Q/UZLu-zkrt7I/AAAAAAAAB-0/Nxil6d4HxNU/s400/maria.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maria and I enjoying some wine and scenic views in Sonoma County. John Medinger (RD and Sonoma County resident) is a lucky guy. </td></tr>
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So, on to the race...the Lake Sonoma 50. Both the women's and men's field were slated to be super-competitive, but as is often the case, the entrants list did not equal the start list, and the women's field had a number of key drops. I'd done an <a href="http://ultrarunnerpodcast.com/amy-sproston/">interview on Ultra Runner Podcast</a> the week prior, and in complete sincerity said I'd hope to crack the top 10. When a number of top names dropped, I was gunning for top 5, but hoping to podium (top 3). I planned to race, but also wanted to be able to walk the next day, and run another 50 miles a short week later (10 hours time difference to Turkey, so it was actually a short week between races). So Lake Sonoma I planned to race, and the race in Turkey I planned to see what it felt like to run consecutive 50 milers while trying to avoid injuring myself. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8JoPqYRrlkc/UZVug6Jh_NI/AAAAAAAAB_c/aVg5neDBfEc/s1600/lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8JoPqYRrlkc/UZVug6Jh_NI/AAAAAAAAB_c/aVg5neDBfEc/s400/lake.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Sonoma</td></tr>
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Words I've heard to use Sonoma are "deceptively tough" and "relentless". With 10,500 feet of elevation gain, most of the climb comes in the form of short relentless hills, except for a 14-mile section from miles 18-32 where you have 3 sustained ups and downs (see <a href="http://www.run100s.com/LS50/ls50profile.pdf">elevation profile</a>). Besides the longer climbs in the middle, the short duration of most of the climbs makes it such that you feel like you should be running most of it, none of which is flat. And because it's an <a href="http://www.run100s.com/LS50/LS50map.pdf">out-and-back</a>, you begin to dread the final 10 miles during the first 10 miles, as you realize that you're going to be going up and down never-ending rollers on the way to the finish. Or at least I was dreading the final 10 miles early on. I started off towards the front of the women's field, and found myself catching up to Rory when we turned off the road and onto the trails. We were in 3rd and 4th at this point. She let me ahead, and then we ran together for several miles. I felt like I was pushing, and at some point asked Rory if she wanted to pass. Her response kind of implied that she wasn't really working, and was just along for the ride, enjoying the trails. I opted to jump off and let her by, as she seemed to be expending very little energy, and I seemed to be over-expending. She effortlessly bounded up the hill, and I assumed I wouldn't see her again.<br />
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The course runs fairly close to the lake; the ups and downs are the result of descending into and out of the various creeks surrounding the lake. Thus, there are several creek crossings (12), which were very low this year compared to past years. There was water enough to splash in and get your feet wet, which was nice, as it was a bit warm for us Oregonians. I felt OK, but after the Warm Springs aid station at mile 12, walked some of the climb out of it, and also hiked a bit of climb to the turn-around. I never felt particularly bad, but never felt particularly great, either. I was pushing, but not really into it in terms of racing. There's a lollipop at the turn-around, so I'd seen Cassie heading down the road and looking strong, but didn't see Joelle or Rory, which meant they were in the loop. Cassie was about 15 minutes ahead at this point. Meghan turned into the aid station just as I was leaving, so looked to be just a minute or 2 back.<br />
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The next part of the course was the most enjoyable (to me) because you're both heading downhill and homeward bound. And, it was a section where I passed a lot of people. After getting passed by Rory and a couple of guys traveling with her around mile 10, I don't think I was passed again for the rest of the day. I ran alone for nearly all of it, and probably passed another 10-15 runners before the finish.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GeGum8Cj1ZA/UZLvoyvzQnI/AAAAAAAAB-8/shffj1NNQNo/s1600/mid+race.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="307" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GeGum8Cj1ZA/UZLvoyvzQnI/AAAAAAAAB-8/shffj1NNQNo/s400/mid+race.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere near the turn-around. Those Oregon legs are not quite tan, but more so after this race. Photo by Gary Wang.</td></tr>
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I came up on AJW, probably at about the same point I passed him at RM50, after the turnaround with 20 or so miles to go, and he was looking a bit less salty than at RM. I started hearing reports that Rory was just ahead, so I just focused on pushing to try to catch Rory, but more so that I didn't get caught by Meghan. I started to see Rory ahead of me on the climbs, and we came into the Warm Springs aid station at the same time. She left before me, but I caught up to her not long after, and she hung on for a while. I picked up the pace, as I wasn't really in the mood to race, and was kind of enjoying the solitude. Once I passed her, I continued to pick it up, because I wasn't mentally up for a close finish, and Meghan had looked really good at the turn-around. I like to run with friends, but I prefer to race alone, as I play less head games with myself that way. <br />
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The last 10 miles were pretty uneventful. I passed a few more dudes, and felt pretty strong running most of the short rollers. I went into the quarter-mile out-and-back section leading to the last aid station (Island View) and didn't see anyone exiting as I entered or see Rory or Meghan as I left the aid station, so didn't feel the need to push. I ended up finishing in 8:04:11, which was 3rd chick and a respectable time for the course, 16 minutes back from Cassie, and a minute and a half back from Joelle. Rory and Meghan finished soon after in 4th and 5th. I've never finished ahead of Rory, or that close to Joelle, so all in all, I was pleased. I never really felt like I was racing, and had some left at the end, but it was a good solid effort, and I awoke on Sunday feeling like I hadn't trashed my legs completely. It wasn't a great race, but it was a good test of fitness, and I felt much stronger than I had at Ray Miller 50 back in early February. I'd gone into Ray Miller on not a ton of training, but had gotten in a 9-week block averaging 80 miles/week in the weeks following RM. That's most likely the most miles I'd ever done in that stretch of time, and with more speed work than I've done in the past (lots of marathon-pace tempo runs).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-THK3oDluYu0/UZVt6mAbViI/AAAAAAAAB_M/n4txYVRVsI0/s1600/podium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-THK3oDluYu0/UZVt6mAbViI/AAAAAAAAB_M/n4txYVRVsI0/s400/podium.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "podium". 3rd, 2nd and 1st listening attentively in all directions.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RLmWPgArvuA/UZVuCnTmevI/AAAAAAAAB_U/mYkKHacGG34/s1600/wine+tasting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RLmWPgArvuA/UZVuCnTmevI/AAAAAAAAB_U/mYkKHacGG34/s400/wine+tasting.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RD John Medinger with me, Cassie and Denise.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NzeI9voiBZU/UZVuocDfNSI/AAAAAAAAB_k/72Xf2FNRCL8/s1600/family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NzeI9voiBZU/UZVuocDfNSI/AAAAAAAAB_k/72Xf2FNRCL8/s400/family.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More wine tasting at one of Maria's favorites.</td></tr>
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Sunday was a really nice recovery day, with morning hot tubbing, followed by a wine tasting event organized by John and crew, followed by more wine tasting with Dennis and Maria. My quads were a bit sore, and I ended the day by going for a short shake-out walk/run on Mt. Tam, as Max and I were doing a photo shoot on Monday in the Headlands. While I felt good on Sunday, after an all-day photo shoot in high winds and chilly temps, I awoke Tuesday morning in Portland feeling like I was hit by a bus. Tuesday morning at work the USADA people showed up to catch me during my one day back in the office for a quick urine sample. At least it looks like they're looking at my schedule notes, and are being fairly accommodating. Wednesday it was time to fly again, and there's nothing like a long flight to Turkey to kick back and recover, arriving in Istanbul Thursday afternoon, and by Friday, I was hanging out with my Turkish running buddies (from last year's trip to Turkey--see next post) in Iznik, and again preparing to run 50 miles on Saturday at the Orhangazi 80K, part of the Iznik Ultras that take place around Lake Iznik, a short journey from Istanbul. I went for a 3 mile shake-out run on Friday afternoon to loosen up after a few long days of travel, and proceeded to face plant on concrete, completely tearing open my left hand and knee. I felt tired, uncoordinated, and jet-lagged, but wasn't nervous, as I was really just planning to do what I could.<br />
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Gear:<br />
<a href="http://www.mountainhardwear.com/Women%27s-Way2Cool%E2%84%A2-Tank/OL5517,default,pd.html">MHW Way2Cool tank</a>: The fit and fabric of the Way2Cool tank has changed a bit, and for the better (to me). A slightly longer cut, and the fabric is buttery soft (also has the new cooling fabric, but living in OR, I can't say that I've noticed--felt good at Sonoma and it was warm). I wear this tank on most of my runs these days.<br />
<a href="http://www.mountainhardwear.com/on/demandware.store/Sites-MountainHardwear_US-Site/default/Search-Show?q=ultrapacer+shorts">MHW Ultrapacer Short II</a>: I have always loved the Ultrapacer Short and the second version of these shorts hasn't changed much from the first (which is a good thing). Just as gloriously short as the first version, and light.<br />
<a href="http://www.montrail.com/Women's-Bajada%E2%84%A2/GL2138,default,pd.html">Montrail Bajadas</a>: No feet issues. The newest version of the Bajada has fixed the two issues some had with the first. They're reinforced around the toe box (fixed the blow-out issues), and the tongue no longer slips because the little shoelace loop thingy on the tongue has been moved to the outside (and I wonder why I never get asked to review shoes).<br />
<a href="http://www.injinji.com/shop/default/run/run-midweight-mini-crew.html">Injinji Run 2.0 Midweight Mini-Crew</a>: This particular model is a favorite (along with a few others). I love my injinjis. And it's not just because they give me socks. I had no feet issues, and I'm still 10 for 10 on toenails this year. My pedicurists love me. <br />
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Nutrition: Clif Shot gels (5'ish), jelly bellies, water, coke, and 2 salt caps. I wasn't carrying salt, and because I was drinking water, realized I should probably take some at some point. So, I took one at the half-way point, and then, just after I left the last aid station and was lamenting the fact that I'd again forgotten to grab salt, I found a salt cap laying on the trail. The trail gods were listening! I licked off the mud, and it was good as new. Otherwise, I drank water throughout, ate gels for the first two/thirds, but then coke and jelly bellies fueled the last third because that's what sounded good. Not my best fueling day.<br />
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-69515860706641665032013-04-09T00:32:00.000-04:002013-04-11T13:22:51.243-04:00Travel, Ray Miller 50, and Recent Training...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My Ray Miller 50 report....way past due, but I started it so might as well finish it. And maybe more of a multi-month synopsis with some trip pictures and training updates. I think that's why I never post anything on here. My blog entries turn into mini novelas and never get finished.<br />
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December and January were busy. Training was crap. Add that to the fact that I really rested more than I ran in September, October and November (5 month average of hitting about 210 miles/month--running, but not really training, although I was actually trying to in December and January). So, I was kind of scared to jump back onto the ultra wagon, but sometimes you just have to jump. Last year's Ray Miller 50 Miler was what I would argue one of my best races last year. I trained fairly hard through last fall/winter into Hellgate 100K in December and Worlds in April, so late February had me in decent shape. In contrast, this year I last raced in late August and took a really light fall/winter training schedule leading into 2 busy travel months for work in December (3 weeks in Iraq) and January (2 weeks in Ethiopia). I always find a way to train on the road regardless of where I end up, but it is often less than ideal, and it's hard to get in big mileage weeks. Oddly, in neither recent case did I have access to a treadmill, so could only run early morning because of either security (Iraq), human congestion (Ethiopia), or air quality issues (Iraq and Ethiopia). <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views on a drive in Northern Kurdish Iraq. The mountains are inviting. </td></tr>
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I wasn't sure I would even be able to run in Iraq, but our security guys assured me it was OK, just to avoid small streets off the beaten path. Advice you might be wise to follow anywhere. But they were all road runs, and had to be done early morning before the smog got too bad, and I wasn't technically supposed to leave the apartment compound after dark alone. Which meant that if I ran in the evening I had to run loops around the apartment compound. Mind numbing. Technically it was dark in the mornings when I left the apartment compound to run, but morning darkness seems less threatening. People don't get kidnapped before noon, right?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I0fq4l38XC0/UWJPB6CtsxI/AAAAAAAAB5o/S6-mOBAJxNU/s1600/DSC02123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I0fq4l38XC0/UWJPB6CtsxI/AAAAAAAAB5o/S6-mOBAJxNU/s400/DSC02123.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running in Iraq wasn't all bad. One weekend, the driver dropped me off in the mountains, and let me run home. "Home" was the city down in the valley (Sulaynamiah). Had I run the other direction I would have ended up in Iran. It sometimes doesn't end well when Americans wander over the border, so I resisted the urge to run higher up into the mountains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bit of a contrast, but indeed, this is a picture taken on that same run while window shopping my way back through the city. Hard to believe I didn't bring this one home.</td></tr>
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Technically there was a treadmill in the hotel in Ethiopia, but it was set with a 10km/hr governor (10 minute miles--hello, this is Ethiopia!), set to turn off every 10 minutes, and was only accessible until 6 p.m. And there was always a line-up of middle-aged dudes looking to get on for a stroll, who glared at me after I'd exceeded my 10 minute window. They'd let it slide for a second 10 minutes, but then they'd report me to the staff. In my defense, the sign on the treadmill (which I can only assume said "Please limit your training to 10 minutes") was in Amharic and I can only assume that's what it said being that I don't read Amharic, but could make out the "10").<br />
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Suffice it to say, I opted to run outside most mornings rather than slog through painfully slow negative energy on the treadmill. And while I hit 70+ mile weeks in both Iraq and Ethiopia, I also hit 30 mile weeks coming and going due to the 30+ hours required to get to either place. Training on the road just reminds me how easy it is to train at home in Oregon. I can run at any time of the day (morning, noon or night), don't get gawked at (Iraq), and don't feel like I've just smoked a pack of cigarettes (Addis Ababa). And, I can easily access trails right out of my front door (+ 2 minutes). There are trail options in Ethiopia, but they weren't accessible for a weekday morning run, so most mornings I ran uphill from my hotel to try to escape the smog. And running uphill in a city where you're starting elevation is around 8000 feet and you're enveloped in smog (lots of wood-fire cooking and lots of really old cars, including a lot of blue Lada taxis which were brought in during the Soviet-backed Derg regime in the mid 70's to 80's--let's just say that I was in at least 2 taxis that required running push starts, and emission testing is either completely or severely lacking). And the number of people out on the street in Addis can be a bit overwhelming, so if you're not out running before sunrise, it's going to be a gawk-fest. At least in Ethiopia they are used to runners, and their comments are overwhelmingly positive, it's just a lot of attention during a normally solo/meditative activity. And I always feel like they're thinking, "Oh look. How cute. The giant white girl is trying to run."<br />
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But there are lovely places to run up above Addis at Entoto, which I've blogged about <a href="http://amysproston.blogspot.com/2010/10/memorable-runs-entoto-ethiopia.html">before</a>. Running up at Entoto makes the weekly slogs through smog worth it. And I do love visiting Ethiopia. Great food, friendly people, and Addis is a really hopping place--lots of people in a small space--but safe, unlike Nairobi which is frenetic and unsafe.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--0AEpINmQgE/UWMseAjqYSI/AAAAAAAAB6E/n0vn_lbKJ9I/s1600/best+hut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--0AEpINmQgE/UWMseAjqYSI/AAAAAAAAB6E/n0vn_lbKJ9I/s400/best+hut.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A room with a view. Addis is the smoggy area down below. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zYImKKT4LS4/UWMstXa-qEI/AAAAAAAAB6U/scjvhObi7To/s1600/road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zYImKKT4LS4/UWMstXa-qEI/AAAAAAAAB6U/scjvhObi7To/s400/road.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical dirt path/road. Climbs are gradual, but up around 10,000 feet, I felt them. Where some elites in Ethiopia train, so you do see some fast and potentially famous runners cruising by.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i6eAfp5h76w/UWMs2DxL5BI/AAAAAAAAB6c/MaEmMTkoEns/s1600/better+field+and+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i6eAfp5h76w/UWMs2DxL5BI/AAAAAAAAB6c/MaEmMTkoEns/s400/better+field+and+view.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More lovely views up on Entoto. Addis is down in the smog.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aoxm4qe9Re0/UWMtI_X0AHI/AAAAAAAAB6k/osiUqXIi1UI/s1600/kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aoxm4qe9Re0/UWMtI_X0AHI/AAAAAAAAB6k/osiUqXIi1UI/s400/kids.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boys who chased down the "faranji" (foreigner) and were happy to pose for a picture.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HiAE1yFKSZo/UWMskZinQEI/AAAAAAAAB6M/2voiFhTT0ck/s1600/epi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HiAE1yFKSZo/UWMskZinQEI/AAAAAAAAB6M/2voiFhTT0ck/s400/epi.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On my run down from Entoto, I ran into the Epiphany street parades. It was a little awkward--sweaty girl in short shorts running through a religious dancing/chanting street parade of 1000s of people. </td></tr>
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So to make a short story rather long, while I tried to train in December and January after taking much of September through November off, life got in the way. Travel, hamstring/glute strain (from racing a half marathon with an already unhappy hammie/butt), the holidays and more travel. <br />
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So, Ray Miller found me in less-than-desired 50-mile shape, but I needed a boost to jump start my 2013 training, and spending 8+ hours on beautiful trails is a good way to do that. Ray Miller was on Feb 2 this year. Last year it was on Feb 25, so the first panic came when I realized that we'd have about 3 weeks less light. Not a big deal, except that the first climb is semi-technical, and would be much darker this year. Last year we needed lights for about 5 minutes, so getting by without was pretty easy. This year I would have liked one for about 45 minutes. I don't see very well in the dark/dawn and I struggled without one. So, while last year, I felt like I ran a really fast first 20 miles, and was somewhat cooked after that, this year I had a slow clumsy start, which transitioned into a slow first half. I did go into this race with a different mindset, knowing I didn't have the miles on my legs, and that many of the fast chicks had chosen to do the 50k this year, whereas last year, Meghan, Shawna and Angela were all with me in the 50 miler. Not to say that there weren't other fast women in the 50 miler, just that the 50k race was a bit more stacked, with a close race for the 1-2 and 3-4 spots. <br />
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The first climb in Ray Miller is pretty (a little dark), but once you get up on the ridge, the sun is starting to come up and the views with the sunrise are breathtaking--a treeless ridge line, with ocean views off to the left. I'm not sure I even noticed it last year, but this year I did. There are payoffs to easing into a race. All of the 50k'ers dropped me quickly (Meghan, Jen B, Kate, Bree, Allison). Last year I was in the lead for both races until the turn-off at mile 20'ish, but definitely not this year. <br />
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The first 20 miles of Ray Miller are my least favorite part of the course, but that's only because I like the last 30 so much. There's a decent but runnable climb to start up to a ridge, which is lovely as mentioned previously, and then you go up and over the ridge to some field and dirt road running. Some nice descents on switch-backy trails, but otherwise I'd describe the first 20 miles as fairly unmemorable. I wasn't suffering as much as last year, but I'm guessing I was a good 25 minutes slower in the first half than last year. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eEFPDHgtb3Y/UWOMx31eXsI/AAAAAAAAB7U/kcpUlQlpJM4/s1600/RM+road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eEFPDHgtb3Y/UWOMx31eXsI/AAAAAAAAB7U/kcpUlQlpJM4/s400/RM+road.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere in the first 20 miles. Photo by Jayme Burtis. </td></tr>
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I'm not sure I'd ever opt for the 50k, because the best part of the course is really the part where you turn off from where the 50k'ers continue on and do a 20 mile out-and-back on parts of the Backbone trail. There's a solid climb up and past Butt-crack rock (that's the rock behind me in the photo) and then a nice descent to the aid station down off the ridge. From the aid station, there's an additional out-and-back to a smaller aid station, which climbs a bit, but is runnable, and provides a good chance to see where people are at. Plus, once you hit the turn-around at about mile 31 or so, you know you're homeward bound. I calculated that the next female (who was not far behind at this point) was 10-15 minutes back, and realized that I needed to think about moving faster. Plus, AJW was maybe 5-10 minutes ahead, so I decided to make catching him my goal. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sm3zh2kwoAw/UWONtkA1vhI/AAAAAAAAB7g/-DwAw4JsgWk/s1600/_MG_1595.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sm3zh2kwoAw/UWONtkA1vhI/AAAAAAAAB7g/-DwAw4JsgWk/s400/_MG_1595.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Butt-crack rock in the background. Mile 24 or so on the course, and up on the Backbone Trail. By far my favorite part of the course. Photo by Jayme Burtis.</td></tr>
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I made my way back through the mile 28/34 aid station for the second time, and felt pretty strong climbing back up and out of the aid station. I ran/walked and started to reel in several guys, including AJW up on top. He looked like a salt lick, and seemed to be struggling a bit, so I passed quickly (it was a secret goal to kind of bury him--sorry AJW) and I was moving well at this point. What goes up must come down, and coming down off of the Backbone trail is a fun, long descent. I passed a couple more guys and was feeling fairly good. I definitely felt (and was) slower in the first half of the race this year, but had gone slow enough that the second half wasn't so bad. I had begun doing some math in my head, which was sketchy, at best, but decided a good goal would be to try to stay ahead of Shawna's 2nd place finish time from last year. I'd run 8:10 the year prior, and I thought Shawna had been around 8:45 (8:44 was her actual time). I also feared that Ultrasignup's stupid predicted time--I really hate the time prediction part of Ultrasignup and don't understand its utility besides annoyance--would be accurate. In this particular instance, it predicted I would run an 8:38, which annoyed me when I'd run an 8:10 the year prior on the same course. Screw you Ultrasignup Genie! How do you know I'm out of shape?<br />
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I turned back onto the shared 50K/50 mile course, which means less than 10 miles to the finish. Uneventful--felt good enough to run, and I pushed a bit. I really just wanted to get to the last aid station, which meant one more big climb, and then probably one of the sweetest descents on a really memorable piece of single track--the Ray Miller trail. I accidentally left my Shuffle at the last aid station (like, permanently), but its loss is not such a great one, being that it's been stuck on the same damn album for the past several races I've used it in, and it's more annoying than helpful. Finally, the final climb, which seemed shorter than I had remembered it in my head, with the reward of that beauty of a trail, the Ray Miller. I ended up finishing in 8:38. Crap. Cursed by Ultrasignup.<br />
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I highly recommend this race to anyone wanting an early season 50 miler. I don't necessarily like to repeat races year to year (although I am again and again this year), but Ray Miller may be an annual pilgrimage. It's warm and sunny, so a nice break from the PNW winter, and the race is really well done; Keira and crew do a great job. Beautiful trails and views, and a fun way to jump into another year of racing.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ERuYim-IeZI/UWOagdeJU8I/AAAAAAAAB70/mvoI3oGyhkM/s1600/24626_10151456473041900_671547626_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ERuYim-IeZI/UWOagdeJU8I/AAAAAAAAB70/mvoI3oGyhkM/s400/24626_10151456473041900_671547626_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't fall once during the race, but managed to face plant on the boardwalk the next day. At least it was a soft landing. </td></tr>
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Next up for me is Lake Sonoma 50 this Saturday, followed by the Iznik Ultra 80K in Turkey the week following. I'm not sure I've ever run 2 50 milers back to back. Vamos a ver. I felt good coming out of Ray Miller and have put in a good block of training, averaging 80 miles/week over the past couple of months, with highs in the mid 90s and a couple of down weeks thrown in. For me that's big mileage, so Lake Sonoma will be a good chance to see where I'm at. I've also done more speed work than I've ever tried to incorporate (usually I do a speed workout every few months--I'm actually trying to incorporate a couple of planned sessions a week). Some days I love it (long marathon-pace efforts) and other days I hate it (whenever it suggests I visit a track, which I have yet to set foot on). March was my biggest training month ever at 363 miles. I think my previous high was 330. Maybe that's why I'm anemic.<br />
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In other news, it turns out I'm mildly anemic (ferritin at 10 and hemoglobin/RBC/hematocrit levels below normal). To be honest, I've been anemic, or borderline anemic maybe every time I've had levels checked--I rarely get it checked, suck at follow through, and end up taking iron supplements for a few months and then forgetting about it. The last time I was checked was at least 3 years ago, being that I was living in DC at the time. This time, my doctor recommends IV iron transfusions. So, tomorrow I'll get my first, and another next week before leaving for Turkey on Wednesday, with a few more to follow in early May once I'm back. I'm also Vit D deficient, but I guess that's no big shocker. The Vit D supplements I just bought are yummy, so I'm trying not to overdose on them. I'm hoping that replenishing my iron stores and OD'ing on Vit D will light a fire under my ass, which I didn't realize had been put out.<br />
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-49041607286415661002013-03-27T19:56:00.001-04:002013-03-28T13:03:11.406-04:00USADA and 6 a.m. wake-up calls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It's again that time when I start getting almost daily reminders from USADA (United States Anti-Doping Agency) that my quarterly "whereabouts" filing is nearly due. Most people will tell you that there is no drug testing in ultra-running, and while for the most part this is true, there are certain high profile races (Comrades and UTMB to name a couple) that do in-competition testing. UTMB tests pre-competition, and Comrades tests top finishers. There is also a way to get yourself landed in the USADA registered drug testing pool, which is to finish in the top 3 at one if the IAAF-recognized IAU world championship events. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So, I'd been told that winning the World 100K would likely land me on the drug testing list, but I thought I'd managed to escape notice, which I figured was because of other race results, and the fact that the Worlds win was a freak incident. Sadly, this didn't turn out to be true and I got an email in early February (almost 10 months after Worlds) with the subject line "Welcome to the USADA RTP!" and an email that started with, "<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Congratulations! You have met your National Governing Body’s criteria to be included in the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency’s Registered Testing Pool (“RTP”)." I found the congratulatory note interesting/odd, being that selection into the RTP is a complete pain in the ass. The letter then went on to explain that I had been selected for the International Testing Pool (the other option is the National Testing Pool which is slightly less of a pain in the ass), and that I would need to file quarterly "whereabouts" that detail out my daily schedule from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m., including a 60 minute window, providing a time and location where I can be found seven days a week. There'</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">s no guarantee that I, if tested, will be tested within my chosen window, as I can be tested at any time between 6 a.m. and 11 p.m., but should I not be located within that window I'll get a missed test violation, and three missed tests equals an anti-doping violation. The "whereabouts" schedule I submit quarterly, and whenever I vary from it, I'm supposed to text updates to USADA with the schedule change. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">So, before March 31 I need to let USADA know where I plan to spend every hour from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. from April 1 - June 30. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Obviously it's pretty hard today to predict where I'll be on June 22nd at 10 p.m., but that's what I need to do, and submit it to USADA by March 31 (or I'll be subject to a violation). </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">And this gets repeated quarterly. Until I get taken off the list. The only way to get taken off the list voluntarily is to "retire."</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Because I often train in the morning, and my post-work schedule varies day to day, I opted for my 60 minute window to be mid-morning during the work week, and 6-7 a.m. on Saturday and Sunday. If USADA shows up to test me during my window, and I'm not there, they will not call me, but will wait an hour, and then call me to let me know I've missed a test. That's where the difference between the International and National testing pools seems to lie--there is no window in the national testing pool, but USADA will call you once they show up to wherever you've indicated you'll be, and you have an hour to report. In the case of the international testing pool, you don't get a call; they wait for you to show up, and if you don't, they call to let you know you were missed. I have not yet figured out whether there's a difference between missing a test inside your window, or outside of your window. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">When I first heard about this, I freaked out a bit. Talk about a major invasion of privacy, although anyone that is friends with me on FB knows that I'm not an overly private person. To be honest, I don't care about the invasion of privacy, as much as the pain-in-the-ass part about keeping USADA updated as to my hourly moves. I'd rather they just stick a chip in me and track me if they really want to know where I am. I mean seriously, do they want to know that I'm going to the grocery store or heading to yoga class? Do they want me to text them if I head out for the evening or the address of where I'm sleeping tonight if it's not at home? I asked those questions of USADA, and the answer to the first questions is "probably not" assuming I'm not going to be gone more than an hour, but the answer to the other questions is "yes." I jokingly posted on FB that anyone wanting to sleep with me in the next quarter should let me know so that I could schedule accordingly. For those that didn't respond--don't worry, I can just text in an update, so not all is lost, and there's still time to get on next quarter's schedule. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">My official start day in the RTP was Feb 20 and I've already been tested once. From talking with others that have been on the list (but from different countries), I assumed I might be tested once or twice in a year. Hopefully that'll be the case, but after being tested just 10 days after getting on the list, it's hard to say. It was nice that the testers came within my scheduled "window" and opted for the 6 a.m. Sunday morning slot. I did ask them whether that was routine (to test within the window) to which they said, "not necessarily." It also helped me to realize that we have a doorbell that doesn't work, and that my kittens are truly dog-like in that they jumped out of bed to go investigate who was at the door. I never would have opened the door, assuming that whoever was knocking was a thief trying to determine if we were home before they broke in, but luckily I have a roommate who is not a complete pansy. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">In terms of the actual test (urine sample), the experience was much easier than my experience being tested in competition. After Worlds, during which I peed while running for much of the race (lesson learned, if you're having a good day, save some), it took me a good 7 liters of water and Coke and more than 2 hours to produce a sample (after which I could have produced hundreds of samples). For the recent test, I hadn't gotten up in a few hours, so the friendly USADA ladies were on their way by 6:30, and I had time to snuggle back into bed for another 30 minutes of sleep before getting up to meet friends to run. The testing agents were two women, and once they make contact with you, you can't leave their sight. I had to retrieve my license from my room to prove my identity, and one of them followed me in there and into the kitchen to get water. The same is true for the sample--they watch your every move (and yes, they watch you pee in the cup--luckily I don't have performance anxiety). Weird. Especially for a podunk ultrarunner. Kind of makes you feel important in an odd way. Like, am I really being drug tested in my own home at 6 a.m. on a Sunday morning, and why?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Alas, I've gotten lax, and have not even remembered that I'm on the testing pool since that first test, under the assumption that I won't be tested again soon. I went to Bend last weekend without remembering to let them know I was leaving town. I should probably pay a bit more attention and remember to text in updates, but was operating in the post-test glow of perceived freedom. In the meantime, I've got the next three months of my life to plan out before Sunday. Let me know if you want on the schedule! </span></span><br />
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-62635655741232121972013-02-27T13:31:00.001-05:002013-02-27T19:49:28.603-05:002013: Remaining Elite (but just on airplanes)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2013 is shaping up to include as much if not more travel than 2012, and my elite airline statuses looks to remain unthreatened. While I strongly dislike the term "elite" when it comes to over-usage in the ultrarunning world, I do love the use of it and my inclusion under it when talking about airlines. I missed platinum by peanuts in 2012 due to poor planning on my part--2013 is going platinum, baby. International travel in 2012 included 3 work trips (Kenya, Istanbul and Iraq) and 2 running trips (Italy/Worlds and France/UTMB), and 2013 looks similar with at least 2 work-related trips (Ethiopia already in January and Istanbul coming in April) and 3 running trips (Japan/100K, France/UTMB and South Africa/Worlds). Here's hoping my elite status earns me an upgrade or 2...</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jr4DkzATqHw/US5CgD48sCI/AAAAAAAAB1s/BOkPzvYLMAE/s1600/DSC02123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jr4DkzATqHw/US5CgD48sCI/AAAAAAAAB1s/BOkPzvYLMAE/s400/DSC02123.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Running near Sulaynamiyah, Iraq in December. Not a bad place for a long Saturday morning run.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2012 was a good one for me, and I was honored to be included in the Ultrarunning Magazine rankings for Runner of the Year (much higher than I would have expected, especially when looking at the names further down the list): </span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yfr3CXX3PNc/US5D6gHbH-I/AAAAAAAAB10/97UaI2wuw1A/s1600/2012+roy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yfr3CXX3PNc/US5D6gHbH-I/AAAAAAAAB10/97UaI2wuw1A/s400/2012+roy.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But, I guess due entirely to the performance of the year rankings, where I was honored, again, to be listed among Ellie's great races, and Connie's 24 hour American record performance:</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oil3NYLgDeY/US5GMqyKVLI/AAAAAAAAB2A/TQd5ur9JSnk/s1600/2012+poy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oil3NYLgDeY/US5GMqyKVLI/AAAAAAAAB2A/TQd5ur9JSnk/s400/2012+poy.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was pleasantly surprised to come in 3rd in the IAU yearly rankings, behind Kudo who won the 24 hour championships and set a world's best performance in 2012. </span><br />
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<strong style="background-color: #f0eeed; font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Female:</strong><br />
<br style="background-color: #f0eeed; font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" />
<span style="background-color: #f0eeed; font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Mami Kudo (JPN): 25.0%</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f0eeed; font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Michaela Dimitriadu (CZE): 24.8%</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f0eeed; font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Amy Sproston (USA): 17.7%</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Moving on to 2013, my schedule, to which I may add a short race here or there, but is fairly concrete on the long-run front, assuming I don't fall off any more cliffs (wee accident in January) and avoid fatal airplane-induced <a href="http://amysproston.blogspot.com/2012/03/from-dvt-to-pe.html">emboli</a>, includes:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Ray Miller 50 mile</b>, 2/5/13: Done!--1st F in the 50 mile--blog post coming next... </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wQhxYVUGxX0/US0YocePG3I/AAAAAAAAB1M/k7PCMNpnmB4/s1600/RM+JB+13.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wQhxYVUGxX0/US0YocePG3I/AAAAAAAAB1M/k7PCMNpnmB4/s400/RM+JB+13.jpeg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Early on during the Ray Miller 50. A great early season event, and one that I plan to hit again in 2014.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Lake Sonoma 50 mile</b>, 4/13/13: This one looks to be more competitive than Western States. I had planned to run this 2 years ago when it was cancelled due to rain, and last year's race conflicted with Worlds, so happy to finally have a chance to run this one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Tokyo Shibamata 100K</b>, Japan, 6/1/13: Super excited about this one. I was invited by the RD, and couldn't pass up a trip to Japan. Japan is somewhere I've never been, and has been on my list. I've never raced a 100K on roads outside of Worlds, so we'll see how it goes. It's supposed to be a flat out-and-back course near Tokyo. Most of the course/race information is in Japanese, so that's my take on it, anyhow. Meghan A. is going, as well, which is awesome, as it'll be fun to explore this new-to-me part of the world with a great friend. The RD expects 2000 runners in the 100K, so should be interesting/competitive/fun. The Japanese women are always very competitive in the IAU World Championship events, and I'd expect we'll see that here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Western States 100</b>, 6/28/13: 3rd year in a row. I've been 8th the past two years. We'll see if F8 is my fate. With the depth of talent in 2013's race, I honestly wouldn't be crushed if that was the case, although I'd like to feel like I had a good race at WS from start to closer-to-the-finish, and be able to sprint around that track. I'd really like to see an 18:30 at WS (19:11 last year). </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xVytaQcO76I/US5Kz7Nz1OI/AAAAAAAAB2c/5F5mapoTHoY/s1600/climb+escarpment.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xVytaQcO76I/US5Kz7Nz1OI/AAAAAAAAB2c/5F5mapoTHoY/s400/climb+escarpment.JPG" width="272" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Really hoping that 2013 brings "normal" weather conditions to both WS and UTMB. Heading up the Escarpment in 2012, in odd freezing conditions for WS.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>White River 50 mile</b>, 7/28/13: One of those races I loved when I first/last ran it, but just haven't made it back to. This year I'm putting it on the calendar early, so as to not miss it again. Great climbs in a beautiful part of Washington--should be great training for UTMB. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>UTMB</b>, Chamonix, France, 8/31/13: All I can say, is that we better make it around that damn mountain. This will be a focus of my summer.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0LxREhDobVY/US5MV0aIEsI/AAAAAAAAB28/CSe6TLi-NJA/s1600/Notre+Dame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0LxREhDobVY/US5MV0aIEsI/AAAAAAAAB28/CSe6TLi-NJA/s400/Notre+Dame.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Meghan and I scouting the course pre-UTMB (we weren't actually on the course, but didn't know it at the time). </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>World 100K Championship</b>, Durban, South Africa, late Oct/early Nov: You know, I don't even know what to say about this one. John Medinger recently commented on a FB post about Durban being a great place for me to go to defend my title. I don't like pressure, and there normally would not be any pressure on me, and I'd guess that even as the returning champ there won't be much pressure on me, assuming that some other individuals show up to defend past crowns. Regardless, I'm looking forward to going back to Durban, as I've also been meaning to return to Comrades (which starts/finishes in Durban), but haven't been able to squeeze it in (and am really looking to run the downhill version of Comrades, so maybe going back to Durban will influence me to sign up for the downhill Comrades in 2014). In the meantime, the World Championship course will likely be something entirely different, about which we don't yet know the details, but Durban is a great beach town, and will be a fun destination race come late October/early November. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Team USA will be looking to defend our title in 2013. A great group of women with whom I can't wait to don the USA jerseys again in Durban.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've been training with some faster marathon types and doing more marathon-paced (faster) runs, and might try to jump into a half marathon here and there to work on speed, but in terms of ultras that's probably my year, as all of my vacation days will be tapped. Although if I'm not completely burned out, and time allows, a December trip to Hellgate 100K+ or TNF in SF might be in the cards. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm other news, I'm excited to continue with the <b><a href="http://blog.montrail.com/athletes/">Montrail/Mountain Hardwear</a></b> team for 2013, and will also continue to be supported by <b><a href="http://www.clifbar.com/play/team_clif/">ClifBar</a> </b>and<b> <a href="http://nuun.com/">Nuun</a></b>. New for me in 2013 I will be racing as part of <b><a href="http://www.injinji.com/team">Team Injinji</a></b>, as well. While initially nervous to make the switch (I'd been wearing DryMax for a couple of years, and had OK luck, but have always struggled with trashed feet, especially my long toe), I have to say that I've been thrilled with my Injinjis thus far, and suddenly have all of my toenails for the first time in 6 years of ultrarunning. Pretty darn exciting. That second toe (pointer toe?) is even almost starting to grow a normal nail. For years it has sort of regrown, only to be knocked on its butt in every ultra/long run. Soon, the pedicurists may not even realize I'm a freak. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All in all, I've got to say that I'm psyched to be supported by my generous sponsors, motivated by my awesome running buddies, and loved by friends and family, and feel really fortunate for all of the opportunities that await in 2013. It's going to be another busy, but hopefully really fun, rewarding, and enlightening year. </span><br />
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-61939533084395552182013-01-12T02:56:00.003-05:002013-01-12T02:56:41.870-05:00The Year in Bad Self Potraits: 2012<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">My favorite post of the year, and why so many people who ran/traveled with me this year were subjected to either participating in or witnessing my acts of self photography. It all stems back to my friend, Marjon, who is the queen of self portraits, and my attempts at attaining her level of expertise. This is the 2nd annual version of "The Year in Bad Self Portraits" and I think I still have a ways to go, so the self portraits will likely continue into 2013. And I had a hard time picking and choosing, so there are a lot of them. Going through the year in photos reminded me what a great year 2012 was--I got to see a lot of the world, spend quality time with great friends and family, and spend a lot of time doing what I love.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jxqiGp-CLgI/UOXLnSJSThI/AAAAAAAABx4/dQigAjkakLs/s1600/self+worlds.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jxqiGp-CLgI/UOXLnSJSThI/AAAAAAAABx4/dQigAjkakLs/s400/self+worlds.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our hostel in Italy during the World Championships. Italy was definitely one of the highlights of the year. There's really nothing that can compare to donning the USA jersey and bunhuggers once a year and representing. And this year will be one that I will never forget. World champions! And world champion--I still can't really believe that actually happened.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UjLO9F2Yiag/UOuPAia71YI/AAAAAAAABzo/B3CC_5vbgy8/s1600/DSC01364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UjLO9F2Yiag/UOuPAia71YI/AAAAAAAABzo/B3CC_5vbgy8/s400/DSC01364.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running in Sedona with Ian and Meghan.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4h_IhjHhAUU/UOe0Bvtx1WI/AAAAAAAABzA/tGLrRdpUpFU/s1600/DSC01382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4h_IhjHhAUU/UOe0Bvtx1WI/AAAAAAAABzA/tGLrRdpUpFU/s400/DSC01382.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
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Portland girl goes to Arizona. Holy heat. Mid-run in Sedona.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oJsRyPWs8-s/UOe0Z2d2vnI/AAAAAAAABzI/ZAYCRIFDPdc/s1600/DSC01388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oJsRyPWs8-s/UOe0Z2d2vnI/AAAAAAAABzI/ZAYCRIFDPdc/s400/DSC01388.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portland girl lets Meghan convince her that running in 110 degree heat is a good idea. Badwater = never.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i7orCMpojEw/UOUYe5-OBJI/AAAAAAAABvw/HSdfG2Bucfc/s1600/DSC01414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i7orCMpojEw/UOUYe5-OBJI/AAAAAAAABvw/HSdfG2Bucfc/s400/DSC01414.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sister and I at Western States. Fun times. Can you tell we're related?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellie and I en route to a photo shoot the day before WS. </td></tr>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pqeHbmd-BxQ/UOXLk35KBrI/AAAAAAAABxo/S5MoOZa7tfY/s1600/self+shenendoah.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pqeHbmd-BxQ/UOXLk35KBrI/AAAAAAAABxo/S5MoOZa7tfY/s400/self+shenendoah.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A work conference in DC allowed for a weekend of getting back on some favorite east coast trails in the vicinity of Buck Hollow in the Shenendoahs. Home trails...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kel635biyO8/UOXLmDRm6mI/AAAAAAAABxw/LVkBdMulERA/s1600/self+ski.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kel635biyO8/UOXLmDRm6mI/AAAAAAAABxw/LVkBdMulERA/s400/self+ski.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A favorite workout of the year: downhill hill repeats at Willamette Ski Pass in an attempt to trash my quads one final time before UTMB. This was an attempt at making it look like I wasn't taking the picture. Artsy, no?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5q1z-7zv1jg/UPEThH2CGFI/AAAAAAAAB0I/mcLvi6JhMqI/s1600/photo+(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5q1z-7zv1jg/UPEThH2CGFI/AAAAAAAAB0I/mcLvi6JhMqI/s400/photo+(3).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And just to show I do more then run, my good friend Liz and I at a summer wedding.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oc-FG655kGI/UOXLghy8w5I/AAAAAAAABxI/bdpBpSwYhU0/s1600/self+chamonix.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oc-FG655kGI/UOXLghy8w5I/AAAAAAAABxI/bdpBpSwYhU0/s400/self+chamonix.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying post-run food with friends after our UTMB/CCC/TDS adventures.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LO6kjO9nCOE/UOXLhXASIGI/AAAAAAAABxQ/mqv3syBdGOU/s1600/self+hair.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LO6kjO9nCOE/UOXLhXASIGI/AAAAAAAABxQ/mqv3syBdGOU/s400/self+hair.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wind swept on top of Mt. Blanc. Looking forward to a return in 2013, if the lottery gods are good to me.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uVsKx7J5mHA/UOXLi32KpBI/AAAAAAAABxY/t0KLiEcPnGo/s1600/self+meg+and+me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uVsKx7J5mHA/UOXLi32KpBI/AAAAAAAABxY/t0KLiEcPnGo/s400/self+meg+and+me.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan and I enjoying some cold sunshine and views of Mt. Blanc.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OOq4bz3wlu8/UOUYhbI5SNI/AAAAAAAABv8/iQVNQI0VGhU/s1600/DSC01750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OOq4bz3wlu8/UOUYhbI5SNI/AAAAAAAABv8/iQVNQI0VGhU/s400/DSC01750.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first tour around Mt. Hood. Early September and the wildflowers were all in full bloom yet. It was gorgeous.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-emE1DBxrR6M/UOUYsgliedI/AAAAAAAABwk/gghPeW-cYWo/s1600/DSC01999.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-emE1DBxrR6M/UOUYsgliedI/AAAAAAAABwk/gghPeW-cYWo/s400/DSC01999.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellie and I on the aptly named Gnarl Ridge side of Hood. Twas a bit windy and nippy. My second circumnavigation of Mt. Hood of the season. 40-42 miles depending on route finding. An epic loop not to be missed if you find yourself in the area at the right time (fairly short window to do this one between end of July and the first snowfall).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AYSUb9eVXDY/UOUYq3WVCRI/AAAAAAAABwc/IwUH84INMH4/s1600/DSC01991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AYSUb9eVXDY/UOUYq3WVCRI/AAAAAAAABwc/IwUH84INMH4/s400/DSC01991.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Hood crew: Stephanie, Max, Zach, me, Mike and Ellie. That is one fast crew touring the mountain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nQVRzpX6dos/UOUYm8Gq3MI/AAAAAAAABwM/BVdAISAp6x8/s1600/DSC01881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nQVRzpX6dos/UOUYm8Gq3MI/AAAAAAAABwM/BVdAISAp6x8/s400/DSC01881.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom, me and Dad enjoying some blue skies and a big blue lake at Crater Lake this fall.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IHdDs-dlnr4/UOUYjuvWVhI/AAAAAAAABwE/Kkp6IMNAwFg/s1600/DSC01879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IHdDs-dlnr4/UOUYjuvWVhI/AAAAAAAABwE/Kkp6IMNAwFg/s400/DSC01879.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom is threatening to push me into the lake if I took another self potrait. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hGXve-Aw3Ms/UOUYojqMWGI/AAAAAAAABwU/Zd5PnYmASZY/s1600/DSC01899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hGXve-Aw3Ms/UOUYojqMWGI/AAAAAAAABwU/Zd5PnYmASZY/s400/DSC01899.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just one more!<br />
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Trail Factor friends running on the Salmon River Trail. Another day, another beautiful trail in the PNW with great friends.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running up in the hills/mountains around Sulaymaniyah, Iraq in December. A memorable run.<br />
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Snowshoeing over New Years. Happy New Year!<br />
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amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-18708422082161833992012-12-09T03:50:00.001-05:002012-12-10T01:13:08.694-05:00Better late than never? UTMB: The Race that wasn't...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In posting the Synchro-Blog piece last week, I realized I had never finished/published my UTMB race report. OK, maybe I hadn't forgotten, but it seemed so negative when I wrote it that I hesitated putting it out there. But, it's how I was feeling at the time, and I like to do things chronologically, so in order to move on to happier topics, like my favorite "The Year in Bad Self Portraits" or talking about plans for 2013, and to move on, it's getting posted even though it was 3+ months ago. Just to warn you, this is going to be somewhat of a gripe-fest. If you want to read a positive account of the UTMB experience, I'll send you to Meghan's <a href="http://runningmegleg.com/2012/10/05/utmb-2012/">blog</a>. <br />
<br />
So, onto the race. Where I last left off (well, a few entries ago) we were rerouted. So, rather than run around Mt. Blanc through 3 countries, the revised course would remain in France, running up and down the valleys around Chamonix. This came after the announcement on Thursday that the race would go on as planned without a course change, and thus after we'd all wrapped our heads around the idea that this was going to be an epic weather adventure. So, we then receive a text on Friday, middle of the day, that the race would be delayed 30 minutes to start around 7 pm and would be at least 100K staying in France and keeping us below 2000m. OK, time to wrap our heads around an entirely new scenario. I was trying to be flexible, but like many, was not very excited by what was about to be our reality--a much shorter and faster night run through the rain and mud. <br />
<br />
A 100K race starting at 7 pm in the rain/snow--oh boy. Anyone that has ever run a 100K starting at night in crappy weather can tell you what that means: tunnel vision on a muddy trail in the dark. No views, no "journey" around Mt. Blanc, just a lot of running around in France, to seemingly having us zig and zag to get us to 100K (+). UTMB is a course that is known for spectacular beauty--a 10 on a scale of 10, and the same on the scale for difficulty. That's why I was there--for a difficult challenge in a stunning environment. If I'm going to suffer, I want to do it in a beautiful place. The replacement course was not beautiful, at least not in the dark. It very likely would have been scenic had it not been dark and foggy, but the only real view we got was of the muddy trail in our headlamp beams. UTMB is known for being tough, and while the replacement course was not beautiful, it was still tough.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vg63CU_vS00/UHW2AMKhx3I/AAAAAAAABts/Do8TmEEYLYA/s1600/20121005-153643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vg63CU_vS00/UHW2AMKhx3I/AAAAAAAABts/Do8TmEEYLYA/s400/20121005-153643.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan and I before the start.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The race started around 7 p.m. in the festive style that UTMB and apparently many European races are known for, with throngs of people lining the streets, complete with a jumbo-tron and video/music. They let the "elites" start in the front of the field, so we lined up behind the start with a mob of folks behind us. Knowing that folks traditionally go out fast, and knowing that the mob was behind us and not in front of us, I just hoped to not get trampled. The race started in the frenetic manner I expected and there was at least one fall at the start, as we all kind of hopped around trying not to run over the downed runners in that first block. But, in general getting out was fairly easy (so don't try to tell me that UROC needs an "elite" start when UTMB does just fine 25 times as many runners). I was soon running with people I knew (Krissy, Rory, Gary) but quickly stopped to pee behind a parked car in town, hoping that it was slightly less rude than peeing in the crowd at the start line, which I had considered. I was still in a crowd, but Europeans don't mind nudity, right? I quickly caught back up with my group, and felt like I was cruising comfortably through the first few miles that take you along a gravel path next to a road . The path rolls, but is more or less flat-ish with more down than up. Understandable why the first splits at UTMB are always so fast--the first section is fast, in a race where many of the climbs are at grades un-runnable to the mortals. The revised course shared the first 24 miles with the real course, so we'd at least get a flavor of the UTMB course.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t0JSsWEDIFk/UHW19NwNyoI/AAAAAAAABtk/-ERhEe3atRA/s1600/2012-TNF-UTMB-Course-Profile.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="115" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t0JSsWEDIFk/UHW19NwNyoI/AAAAAAAABtk/-ERhEe3atRA/s400/2012-TNF-UTMB-Course-Profile.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The revised UTMB course. There were more climbs in there than are indicated on the map, I believe. The last section in reality didn't seem to match the map we were given.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The first climb started and Topher and Gary both blew by me at hiking speeds I couldn't match. In general, I felt good on most of the climbs, but the first one I struggled to find a rhythm. Rory passed by, too, along with a few other females. I started to feel good again once we started the descent into St. Gervais, although the descent was fairly slick on wet and muddy grass, and I depended heavily on my poles for balance. St. Gervais was the first big aid station and it was a bit of a mob scene, so I tried to get into and out of the tent as quickly as possible. Unfortunately I hadn't explained this to my crew, who kept trying to (sweetly) offer me a blanket to warm up with. I was generally warm, and just trying to get through the mob scene as quickly as possible. In hindsight, I never even looked at the food offerings, and only took water and coke from aid stations so have no idea what culinary delights awaited had I stopped. Cheese and sausage, from what I've read, but I stuck to my usual ClifShot diet.<br />
<br />
While they did dramatically change the course, they did keep us on the real UTMB course up past Les Contamines, where we would eventually turn off after Notre Dame de la Gorge on what is the first really big climb of the real UTMB. We would turn off around 6200 feet in the modified version, whereas the UTMB course continues to climb up to 9000 feet. <br />
<br />
The text that came Friday, announcing the course change stated that the course would be at least 100K. It didn't specify, but I assumed it would be around 100K. Eh, wrong. I found this annoying as the race unfolded and it became evident that the course was actually closer to 110K. It's nice to start a race knowing the distance you're about to run. Otherwise, you get to the second-to-last aid station and naively ask, "15K to go?" And hear the response, "No, actually 25K to go." Me, "WTF?" We'd already made the mental shift of running 168K to 100K, and these additional shifts were just adding insult to injury. My thought at the last aid station upon hearing this news was, "Let this crappy half-ass course be over with." When you're what you believe to be 9 miles away from the finish of the race, and then they tell you that it's actually 15, it's a bit deflating. After hearing that news, the hardest part of the race for me was the last section from the last aid station to the finish. It was finally light, but this section of the course was not scenic, and was sort of flat-ish and rolling back into town, and had been traversed by the previous races so was a slop-fest. And a bit unexpected in that I had assumed the distance to be closer to 100K. I know, I complain about not getting to run 100 miles and then complain that they made us run more than 100K. Again, it's just nice to know up front how far you're racing.<br />
<br />
Overall, I felt like I rolled with the punches, and did my best to make the most out of what was not ideal. It's hard to compare the actual results to what would have happened had we gotten to run the full course. The event we ran was not UTMB. I'm not sure what the finishing rate was, but it was high compared to what the usual UTMB finishing rate is.<br />
<br />
Being that I don't regularly compete against most of the women in this race, it's a little hard to judge finishing place/time, but comparing my finish to the other US women, I'm not unhappy. Rory has had a great year, with her 2nd place finish at Western States, but I'd say for the most part, any one of that group of 5 could come out on top (or bottom) on any given day. I ended up 15 minutes out of 5th place, which is only significant in that the top 5 women are considered podium (top 10 for men), and I really had hoped to break into the top 5 (what can I say, I wanted a cow bell). And I'm getting pretty good at nailing the F8 position, with two F8s at WS the past 2 years and an F8 here. I hope it's not fate (feight). The top US women ended up:<br />
<br />
4. Rory Bosio (13:43:10)<br />
8. Me (14:13:35)<br />
12. Meghan Arbogast (15:14:25)<br />
14. Krissy Moehl (15:25:57)<br />
17. Helen Cospolich (15:57:36)<br />
<br />
The organizers still managed to provide us with around 18,000 feet of climb (per Jill Homer's data) over 68 miles (according to my watch--Jill had 67). So, while the climbs were not as long, they were still plentiful, and steep. <br />
<br />
I can understand why the course change happened, but after having trained all summer, and having taken a week off of work, I really wanted to do a little more than run around on steep muddy trails in the rain. I'm from Oregon. I can do that basically any night I want to for 9 months of the year. However, the race organizers did their best in what was just crappy luck. Seriously, the chances of having 3 years of bad weather in a row can't be that high. And the window of crappy weather was pretty incredible, as it was beautiful in the days leading up to the race, and was gorgeous again, just following the race.<br />
<br />
I was encouraged by the fact that the climbs really didn't seem that bad. Yes, they were steep, but I was prepared. Granted, we didn't do the major climbs that come in UTMB, but what we did do seemed completely doable. Folks say you can't train for the steepness in the US, but that really isn't true, at least not in Oregon. We've got steep climbs here, too. I did a training run in the Gorge with 10,000 feet of climb in 30 miles with just 2 climbs. Our race was 20,000 feet of climb in 68 miles. I was definitely prepared for that and not completely wiped. I wanted the real deal.<br />
<br />
Will I go back? Yes. I loved what I saw of the course, and can't wait to do the entire thing.<br />
<br />
I wanted to suffer; I wanted to deserve time off afterwards; I wanted to struggle up climbs, and be so sore that I couldn't walk for a several days. Instead, we were offered a modified course, such that my quads weren't even sore. 18,000 feet of climb in 68 miles, and my quads were happy. My quads were SO ready, damn it! I may have finished the route that was UTMB this year, and received a UTMB finishers award, but I haven't run UTMB. I will be back, assuming that I can get in.<br />
<br />
Seems to be the year of shitty weather and 8th place finishes in 100 mile trail races for me. I'm sick of finishing 8th in big races. Like at WS, I wanted top 5 here. Here I was 15 minutes back, which isn't much in a race that lasts 14 hours, and had I had any idea where I was I can definitely think of a few places where that time could have come from. I had super slow aid station transitions. They were pretty much self service, and I struggled to get my bladder filled and gear re-adjusted on more than one occasion. I came into Les Contamines in 5th the second time through, and left in 8th or 9th. I wasn't hanging out in the aid station; it was all just kind of clumsy and I hadn't given my crew any instructions that could have helped in speedier transitions. Next year I'll have a better idea of what the aid stations are like and can plan on how to transition through them more quickly. I really hate wasting time at aid stations.<br />
<br />
All in all, the trip was a fun one, but the UTMB experience left me in a severe funk. To put so much time/energy into preparing for one race knowing that you can completely beat yourself up and then have an off season to relax/recover, and then not have that race really happen was frustrating. I came back to the states, with my legs feeling fresh, and feeling fit, but mentally feeling like I wanted to be done with training. However, being in shape, and having many great fall ultras to choose from, I opted to jump into 2 additional races: Cuyamaca 100K in San Diego, and Pinhoti 100 mile in Alabama. Suffice it to say that I half-heartedly attempted Cuyamaca, and dropped after going off course. Just was 100% out of it mentally. Complete 2012 burnout, so decided to take the rest of the year off of racing. My work helped with that decision, as well, as it turned into an insanely busy fall, with many late nights and a 3-week trip to Iraq in December to ensure I couldn't register for TNF or Hellgate. <br />
<br />
I'm feeling rested, and have started jumping back into training the past month. Nothing crazy, but I've had a couple of 70 mile weeks, and am trying to notch it back up, although running in Iraq isn't that much fun (it's safe where I am, but running draws major attention and the stares/honks/smog make it not my favorite place to run, besides the fact that I can only run out on the streets early in the morning, which is not my forte, unless I want to run loops around the apartment complex, also not my forte), so my weekly totals have dipped back into the 40s and 50s. But, I'm healthy, and excited for a pretty awesome 2013 schedule, with at least 3 international trips for races, and another few exotic locales thrown in for work. 2013 is going to be a busy one, and I hope to be able to race at a high level a bit later in the year next year for some late-season key races, so am hoping this downtime will leave me hungry enough to do so. And UTMB is one of the races on my list for 2013. I want to circumnavigate that damn mountain!<br />
<br />
Many thanks to our wonderful hosts and to the fun group with which we shared the house in Megeve. Outside of the actual race experience, it was really a fantastic week. And to Montrail Europe for all of their assistance during the race. I hope to see you all again in Chamonix in 2013. <br />
<br /></div>
amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-22702250233925664862012-12-07T12:07:00.000-05:002012-12-07T13:21:38.812-05:00Syncro-Blog: Pandora's Race: Getting sucked into the Ultra Cult<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I would guess that many of us entered the ultra world thinking, "I'll just sign up for 1 race." I know that I did when I first signed up for Mountain Masochist 50+ back in 2006. And I can very clearly remember the parking lot scene prior to a Signal Nob trail run--one of my first with my new-found group of crazy trail running friends--where Keith Knipling stated, "I'm not doing any more 100s--they're stupid." That was shortly after he and his dad, Gary, had completed the Grand Slam, and I just assumed that Keith was serious (he went on to run at least 5 more 100s over the next 8 or 9 months including 3 in back-to-back weekends, and both versions of TWOT, which only true nutcases ever finish). And I can remember thinking at the time (fall 2006) that 50 miles was enough. I'd do it once, and then return to my normal life. I had no desire to try 100 miles; 50 seemed like punishment enough. And I can distinctly remember finishing that first 50 and saying, "That was stupid. I will never do this again." Yet, somehow I ended up in Wyoming 6 months later at the start line of the Bighorn 100. My first 100 was a disaster--I tried unsuccessfully to drop for 50 miles, and still wish I would have dropped rather than have finished, but that's another story. But I'd definitely been bitten by both the ultra and 100 mile bugs. 100 miles is not my favorite distance (I prefer 50 miles, or my favorite distance, 100K), but somehow much of the past 6 years of my life has been consumed by training for and racing 100 milers. My non-running friends have described the Ultra scene as a cult. You get sucked in and never find your way back out. So what's the danger of getting sucked in? Obviously each individual is different, but getting sucked into the ultra cult has influenced my life in some significant ways.<br />
<br />
In no particular order:<br />
<br />
Ultra running can be an all-consuming hobby. I like to think that I used to be more well-rounded. In my pre-ultra life, I could list off a multitude of interests and hobbies. I used to take language classes, salsa dance several times a week, cook, bake, knit, read, take stained glass classes, tango, yoga, biking etc. I still claim to do many of those things, but I now bake bi-annually rather than weekly; I go salsa dancing once every 6 months; and I joined a book club to force me to finish a book once a month. And most of my non-book club reading has to do with running, in the form of blogs or running magazines. I've become a great conversationalist about running, but maybe not about much else, outside of my job. Training to compete at the level I want to compete at takes up much of my time outside of work hours. If I'm going to show up at the start line of a 100 miler, I want to feel prepared, and like I can race it. For me, that usually means running around 70 miles a week, trying to hit 80 - 100 miles in my biggest weeks, with a somewhat constant guilt complex for not doing more and feeling undertrained. Add in a yoga class or two, and that means that most of my spare time is taken up by running.<br />
<br />
It's affected my career decisions. I work in the international development field, and before I got into trail running, I intended to go back overseas within a couple of years of arriving in DC (2004). My reason for not trying to get a field position is more complicated than just running, but a large part of it is because I wouldn't want to be somewhere where I couldn't run trails, or potentially run at all (an overseas posting with my current organization would not be taking me to Europe, or an international location with a similar ultra scene...think Juba or Kabul). A career has never been that important to me, though, and it's become fairly apparent that I'm more passionate about running than I am about my day job, so I guess it's not surprising that my desire to keep training and competing at a high level has encouraged me to stay state-side in the forests of Oregon.<br />
<br />
I've moved cross country partially because of trail running. That is not to say that the ultra scene isn't alive and well (better, even) on the east coast, but I'm a sucker for really tall trees, mountains, moss and ferns, and I feel at peace running on the wet trails of the PNW. I moved cross country to live in a place of amazing natural beauty, primarily because the thought of calling those PNW trails home was too good to pass up.<br />
<br />
It's affected relationships. My non-running friends have commented (jokingly, but it's partly true), that they lost me to ultrarunning. I had a core group of non-running friends before I started ultrarunning. But once I started spending most of my weekends running with new ultrarunning buddies, I wasn't definitely absent more than present with my old circle. And while dating/relationships have never been my forte, I've definitely had some relationships end (or never get off the ground) because of my running. Although I guess if a partner can't support my passions, then maybe ultrarunning has been a good screening test for duds.<br />
<br />
Getting sucked into the ultrarunning "cult" has obviously not been without effect. And the question remains as to why I keep doing it when the goal of it is to run races that are potentially not going to be a lot of fun. I hated my first 100 miler. I had a miserable time, and was not proud of my finish. Maybe that's what motivated me to run my second 100--to prove to myself that I could figure out the distance. But in subsequent races, I think I've learned that you never really figure out the distance, and maybe that's part of the intrigue and is why, 6 years later, I'm still planning my life around 100 mile races. There is something about the unpredictability of the journey that is 100 miles, that has a real draw. You know going in, that you're going to suffer, and that there will be highs and lows, and that you won't know what those will be until you face them; there's something about that uncertainty that is really quite appealing. Or at least it must be, otherwise, why do we do it? <br />
<br />
Some ultrarunning friends' thoughts on the topic:<br />
<a href="http://www.jenbenna.com/?p=573">Jen Benna</a><br />
<a href="http://dominicgrossman.blogspot.com/2012/12/synchroblog-pandoras-race-dangers-and.html">Dominic Grossman</a><br />
<a href="http://breakingexcellent.blogspot.com/2012/12/im-selfish-bitch-and-youre-amazing.html">Katie DeSplinter</a><br />
<a href="http://inspiredrunning.blogspot.com/2012/12/syncro-blog-pandoras-race-danger-of.html">Jimmy Dean Freeman</a><br />
<br /></div>
amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-2038617602405761392012-09-21T14:02:00.002-04:002012-09-21T19:08:07.505-04:00UTMB Gear List and Selections<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let me start off by saying that I have never seen people wear so many layers of clothing in a running event. I thought Portlanders over-dressed, but UTMB'ers took it to a new level. Racers were bundled up as if about to face severe arctic weather (and we might have, had we headed up over 6000 ft, which we didn't). It was almost laughable, and a wee bit confusing, as it made me question whether I had enough on and had packed enough extra gear for my crew. I kept trying to remind myself that I've been running in winter weather for as long as I can remember, and would never consider wearing more than a single layer on bottom, even when it's really really cold or really wet. And I never wear more than 2 layers on top, and that usually becomes uncomfortably warm. But, as racers started to panic about weather conditions in the days prior and swarm the Chamonix stores for additional gear, I got sucked in and did the same. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
I found one of the more over-whelming aspects of UTMB preparation in the weeks leading up to it to be figuring out what to carry in terms of mandatory gear. I thought I'd done a good job at keeping things light, until I saw Topher's pack a few days prior to the race. People put a lot of thought and effort into this, and Topher definitely won the award for research and creativity. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Following is a list of the required gear, and what I opted to go with:</span><br />
<ul style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
<li><b>Backpack</b> (Not on the obligatory gear list, but obligatory because you have to carry everything on the gear list) </li>
<ul>
<li><i>I carried one of the TenRedPacks from UltraSpire. Technically they were green this year, but the name came from last year, when you could follow the ten red packs around UTMB. It's a prototype of the Omega. First, let me start off by saying I really liked this pack--the materials, the construction, the design--all great. And, I liked it better than any other pack I tried out in prep for UTMB (including the S-Lab 5--stiff and bulky--too much fabric, Ultimate Direction Highline--stiff and heavy, Ultimate Direction Wasp--weird straps causing a weird fit, Camel Bak something or other--uncomfortable fit, Inov8 something or other with odd bladder--uncomfortable bulky straps that hit collarbone/neck), and worn over layers, it worked out very well. I have since worn the pack over a single layer, and I like it, except for the shoulder straps which are fairly widely placed. Better than other packs that cut into the collar bone, but still a touch wide, and tend to slip off the shoulder. Also, there are some issues with the front straps which loosen as you run; the wide shoulder strap issue would be lessened if those front straps would stay put. To prevent them from sliding, I duct taped them into place, and this seemed to work OK. I'll probably permanently sew them at some point, as the duct tape seems to fail on the second or third run. Overall, really like the pack, except for being slightly wide in the shoulders and therefore sliding around a bit, and the (fixable) front strap issue. It's not perfect (but, almost--and can/will be made perfect with a needle and thread), but is my go-to pack for long adventures. </i></li>
</ul>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cc770BEiY30/UFyo7YTfmiI/AAAAAAAABtM/mnY-grVxrck/s1600/ultraspire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cc770BEiY30/UFyo7YTfmiI/AAAAAAAABtM/mnY-grVxrck/s400/ultraspire.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Checking out the course pre-race with the Ultraspire Omega pack.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>On to what had to go inside of that pack...</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div>
<strong style="color: #049cdb; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Obligatory material :</strong>
</div>
<ul style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
<li><b>Mobile Phone</b><span style="background-color: white;"> with option enabling its use in the three countries</span>
(put in one’s repertoire the security numbers of the organisation, keep it switched on, do not hide one’s number and do not forget to set off with recharged batteries)</li>
<ul>
<li><i>I purchased a cheap flip phone in France. My Windows phone is dying a slow death, and I feared wouldn't survive the journey (after a recent run, it didn't stop ringing, literally, for several days), besides being a bit heavy and having to pay international rates. </i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>Personal Cup or Tumbler</b> 15cl minimum (water bottle not acceptable)</li>
<ul>
<li><i>I cut off a juice box--picture a Capri Sun type of thing. Rolled up nicely, worked fine, and I used it for Coke throughout.</i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>Stock of Water</b> minimum 1 litre,</li>
<ul>
<li><i>I carried a 1.5L bladder.</i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>Two Torches</b> in good working condition with replacement batteries,</li>
<ul>
<li><i>Petzl MyoRXP for my main headlamp and a Fenix handheld for my secondary (E11--takes 1 AA battery). I carried one extra battery for the Fenix for the "replacement batteries" </i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>Survival Blanket</b> 1.40m x 2m minimum,</li>
<ul>
<li><i>Standard. Not much room to be creative here, although some folks will go that extra mile and cut it down to exact size. I didn't bother trying to save those extra thousandths of an ounce.</i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>Whistle</b>,</li>
<ul>
<li><i>Standard small plastic emergency whistle. Not much room to be creative here. Some packs come with them.</i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>Adhesive Elastic Band</b> enable making a bandage or a strapping (mini 100cm x 6 cm),</li>
<ul>
<li><i>Standard...I can not imagine a case, ever, where I would use a bandage mid-run or race, and I've fallen, bled, and broken things on a lot of runs. We were carrying 5000 layers. Surely in an emergency we could have used something out of our required clothing, like the bandana/buff, and made it to an aid station. This was one of those items that makes you ask, WTF? Granted, it weighs next to nothing, so carrying it wasn't really a burden.</i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>Food Reserve</b>,</li>
<ul>
<li><i>I carried ClifShots and a ClifBar or two. Gels started to not go down so well at some point, so for the second half I relied on gummy Haribo Smurfs (not the first time I've relied on gummy things when my stomach is feeling a bit off--they're easier to suck on, thus preventing the gag reflex that swallowing a gel sometimes brings) and Coke at the aid stations. Having a crew meant I could not rely on aid station food, which was plentiful, but not standard fare by US standards.</i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>Jacket with Hood </b>and made with a <b>waterproof</b> (recommendation: minimum 10,000 Schmerber) and breathable (recommendation: RET lower than 13) membrane (Gore-Tex or similar) which will withstand the bad weather in the mountains.</li>
<ul>
<li><i>I carried the MHW Quasar jacket. Great jacket, although I never put it on (I didn't need to--I was warm all night). </i></li>
</ul>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-94AcAhzvu_o/UFyfOz8YelI/AAAAAAAABs0/FjFpnFfi-lQ/s1600/quasar+jacket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-94AcAhzvu_o/UFyfOz8YelI/AAAAAAAABs0/FjFpnFfi-lQ/s1600/quasar+jacket.jpg" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<ul style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">
<li style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>Long Running Trousers or Leggings</b> or a combination of leggings and long socks which cover the legs completely,</li>
<ul style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<li><i>I opted for 3/4 length tights. I also had arm sleeves with me, so they could have covered the lower part of my legs, had they needed to. I had spare long tights in my crew bag. I would have been happy in shorts, too.</i></li>
</ul>
<li style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>Additional warm midlayer top</b>: One single midlayer long sleeve top for warmth (cotton excluded) with a minimum weight of 180g (Men, size M)<br /><strong>OR</strong> a two piece clothing combination of a long sleeve baselayer/midlayer for warmth (cotton excluded) with a minimum weight of 110g (Men, size M) and a windproof jacket* with DWR (Durable Water Repellent) protection</li>
<ul style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<li><i>I wore a short-sleeved half-zip (MHW Aliso S/S zip T) over a long-sleeved half-zip (Arcteryx--purchased in Chamonix when I realized I hadn't brought the "right" long-sleeved layer). I loved both of these, and loved that they were both 1/2 zips so I could control temperature a bit by unzipping one or both of them. The Aliso is a shirt I will wear a lot--it's a great medium-weight SS shirt, and the half-zip option is really nice. And it's a GREAT fit--not cut for a 5'2" woman with large hips, as much women's athletic apparel seems to be. I see this as being my go-to shirt for the rainy Portland fall that is about to hit.</i></li>
</ul>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UQ6ZHyKE-2k/UFyerBRfZ2I/AAAAAAAABss/bRYt9BeO2JI/s1600/aliso+shirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UQ6ZHyKE-2k/UFyerBRfZ2I/AAAAAAAABss/bRYt9BeO2JI/s1600/aliso+shirt.jpg" /></a></div>
<ul style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><ul style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<li><i>I started in a MHW Geist jacket (a wind breaker), and also had a MHW Ghost Whisperer with me. I took the Geist off within about 10 minutes of the start, and only pulled it out again on the snowy part of the course on the climb up above Gorge de la Notre Dame. Otherwise I ran in the L/S and S/S shirts all night, and never changed. I was warm all night.</i></li>
</ul>
<li style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>Cap or Bandana</b></li>
<ul style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<li><i>Carried a Buff. Never wore it.</i></li>
</ul>
<li style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>Warm Hat</b></li>
<ul style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<li><i>I carried a MHW Micro Dome hat. I wore a Turtle Fur tube, that I always wear. It allows my hair to stick out the back/top, which is kind of a must for me. I've worn it on every cold weather run the past decade. </i></li>
</ul>
<li style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>Warm and Waterproof Gloves</b></li>
<ul style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<li><i>Waterproof gloves was one of the items I opted to switch out in Chamonix, purchasing the RaidLite over-mitts. I really think that these are something I may use in the future for snowshoeing, cold-weather adventures, but did not put them on at any time during UTMB. Waterproof gloves, in general, are not something I would ever consider wearing, as I would imagine that they wouldn't be that effective once your hands are warm and sweaty inside of the gloves. The RaidLite mitts are thin enough that I could imagine wearing them as a single layer. The other water-proof gloves out there resemble oven mitts, and I can't imagine using them for anything besides oven mitts. I wore MHW Power Stretch Gloves and switched those out for the MHW Heavyweight Wool Stretch Gloves at St. Gervais the second time because they'd gotten fairly wet up in the snow. My hands only got cold for a few minutes during the snowy portion, and otherwise, I didn't wear gloves most of the race. Only for a couple of hours total out of 14. A glove change was the only change I made all race.</i></li>
</ul>
<li style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>Waterproof Over-trousers</b></li>
<ul style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<li><i>I ended up carrying MHW Epic pants. This was one switch I made on race day, when I worried that I might need to actually wear them. In the end, I still didn't wear them. I had previously planned to carry <a href="http://o2rainwear.com/2011/03/original-pant/">O2 Rainwear pants</a> (yellow papery things) bc they were significantly lighter than the MHW ones. But, I couldn't imagine running in them. In the end, I couldn't imagine running in any of it, and didn't need to.</i></li>
</ul>
</ul>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
* The windproof jacket does not replace the mandatory waterproof jacket with hood</div>
<h3 style="background-color: white; color: #049cdb; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">
<strong>Required by the frontier police forces:</strong></h3>
<ul style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
<li><b>Identity Papers</b></li>
<ul>
<li><i>Well, this became a bit obsolete once they changed the course to remain in France, but I did carry a photocopy of my passport. I didn't want to carry the entire thing bc it weighs a bit, and it's not something you want to get wet.</i></li>
</ul>
</ul>
<h3 style="background-color: white; color: #049cdb; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">
<strong>Very strongly recommended</strong></h3>
<ul style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
<li><b>Knife or scissors </b>with which to cut the self-adhesive elasticised bandage</li>
<ul>
<li><i>Um, nope. I can't imagine using a bandage mid-race or needing to cut one. </i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>walking poles</b> for security on slippery ground in case of rain or snow</li>
<ul>
<li><i>I used Black Diamond carbon Z-poles and can't imagine doing UTMB without them. I find them very helpful on the steep climbs, and were a life saver on some of the steep muddy descents that were kind of like skiing on mud.</i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>a change of warm clothes </b>indispensable in the case of cold weather, rain or injury</li>
<ul>
<li><i>I had extra clothes with my crew, but never used any of it except switching out wet gloves for dry ones coming through St. Gervais the second time.</i></li>
</ul>
<li><b>the sum of 20 euros minimum</b> (in order to cover the unexpected....)</li>
<ul>
<li><i>I did carry 20 euros but can only imagine needing this if I were doing the full course and having a really rough day (fondue stop at a refuge, etc.).</i></li>
</ul>
</ul>
<h3 style="background-color: white; color: #049cdb; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">
<strong>Advised (list not definitive):</strong></h3>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Verdana, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Telescopic sticks, change of clothing, compass, knife, string, sun cream, Vaseline or anti-chaffing cream, needle and thread,...<br />
<br />
<strong>All clothing must be the runner’s size and without alteration since leaving the factory.<br />You will carry this material in a pack which must be tagged at the race-bib distribution and is not exchangeable during the race.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>If you decide to use poles, you must keep them throughout the whole of the race… It is forbidden to start without sticks and recover them up along the way</strong>.<br />
No poles will be allowed in the spare’s bags.<br />
<br />
____________________<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My favorite gear item, besides my L/S and S/S shirts (the perfect combo for the weather--while it was raining much of the night, I either didn't get wet, or it didn't register), were my Black Diamond carbon Z-poles. I loved them for both the ups, and the downs, which were like mud slicks at times (the re-routing caused us to use some TDS trails which meant that there had already been 1500 people or so coming down/up them in the day prior in the pouring rain).</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The good thing about having to go through this this year, is that next year I understand where to save weight, and what items worked well this year. I really wouldn't change much. I definitely wouldn't add anything. We had "epic" weather and yet I touched basically none of the mandatory gear I wasn't wearing. I likely would have used some of it had we gone up another 3000 feet, but feel like I had enough additional layers with me had I needed them. And everything I have seems to be light enough, in that I don't plan to waste time trying to save an ounce here or there. I'd rather spend that time out hiking up steep climbs in preparation than sitting in front of a computer screen researching UTMB gear options (I seemed to do a lot of that this year). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The only thing I would change for next year would be on lights, in that I'd have an additional lightweight option to switch out during the day with crew, and then take back a heavier light late on Saturday. You have to carry 2 lights at all times, but there's no point in carrying a heavy headlamp with 3 or 4 batteries all through the daylight hours on Saturday if you a means of switching it out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">On to the race....</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com69tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-90627128457940630842012-09-12T15:15:00.003-04:002012-09-18T18:02:28.987-04:00UTMB: The lead-up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Even though the weather gods have shat upon UTMB the past 2 years, who would have thunk that they would decide to dump the mother load on the race for a third year in a row? Not I, and I certainly didn't pack for it, as I stressed over finding the lightest gear possible to take on the challenge. I can remember telling Byron (MHW/Montrail) several times, "I don't need to wear the waterproof pants, I just need to carry them," as I looked for the lightest possible option (on this point, I'll still argue I was right...I cannot imagine ever wearing waterproof pants to run in, even after the weather we got at UTMB). It was gorgeous for the days heading into the race and gorgeous the days following, but the weather gods decided to unleash their fury in a short 48-hour window to affect all 4 of the 2012 races (PTL, TDS, CCC and UTMB). And while the event organizers and racers rallied to embrace what mother nature threw our way, it was a major disappointment to not be able to truly experience UTMB.<br />
<br />
Full disclosure. When I pictured myself running in the Alps, this is what I imagined. I pictured myself frolicking through grassy alpine meadows throwing my arms into the air and breaking out into song, at least once, kind of like the dude in the video (but slightly more gracefully and probably with much less vibrato). <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/CSLw7cYx6ZY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
There was no frolicking or singing, not even in my head. <br />
<br />
I haven't blogged in weeks (er, months), so I'll summarize my summer quickly. My training post-Western States went well. I jumped back into running 10 days after WS with a flat road marathon (a PR--woohoo! although my marathon PR is still pathetic at 3:04--my previous PR being my marathon split from the World 100K at 3:06). Not super fast, but reassuring that my quads, which felt like they died at WS, were still alive and ready to jump back into training. Here are Daniel and I at the finish of the Sauvie Island Flat--held on the 4th of July. The main motivation for running the race was to have an excuse to sport patriotic attire including bunhuggers (and to hang out with my friend, Daniel, visiting from DC). <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-srMxhY30MOs/UFDZzYtZPZI/AAAAAAAABr0/l7af01YM_jk/s1600/4th+w+Daniel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-srMxhY30MOs/UFDZzYtZPZI/AAAAAAAABr0/l7af01YM_jk/s400/4th+w+Daniel.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wussed out on the body paint, but figured the tanlines were good enough representation of red and white stripes. Daniel was definitely a hit, and I met someone the next week, who remembered me as, "That girl that was running the marathon in her underwear."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I quickly ramped back up from 0 the week following WS to 70 miles and then a couple weeks in the 80s before a rest week and then hit 100 and 90 mile-weeks, which for me, are big weeks, before a 3-week taper. Some highlights of my long training runs were a St. Helens circumnavigation with "the boys" and a double Defiance, which is probably as good as it gets nearby for UTMB training--2 trips up Mt. Defiance, one from the back (Wyeth Trail) and one from the front (Defiance trail) resulting in over 10,000 feet of gain in 30 miles. There were some other memorable training runs, including a weekend in the Shenendoahs with the Keiths, a South Sisters summit with Oregon running buddies, and downhill repeats at Willamette Pass, my new favorite workout (it involves riding the gondola to the top and then running down and repeating as many times as desired--I did it 2 weeks out, so opted for 5 repeats or 11 miles downhill with about 8000 feet of descent). Overall, I got in some of my highest mileage weeks ever, and more climbing/descending than normal. I spent a fair number of lunch hours hiking uphill at 24% on the treadmill. I wasn't putting in 130 mile weeks out of a yurt (watching this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHQuwTxyokM">video</a> made me feel like a complete slacker), but I did what I could and my quads felt ready to go. I was feeling fairly tired on my last big week, and managed to fall 4 times that week, so opted for a good 3-week taper, and really backed off the final 10 days. I felt great heading into it and was excited to see just how impossible this UTMB thing was, and why so many norteamericanos seemed to be humbled by it. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GoCLHirGJgU/UEpoHgzPWTI/AAAAAAAABrc/33NlNamIjrY/s1600/st+helens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GoCLHirGJgU/UEpoHgzPWTI/AAAAAAAABrc/33NlNamIjrY/s400/st+helens.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and the boys on a St. Helens circumnavigation. The summer included lots of fun long runs including this 33-mile classic PNW loop. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ry6KYfUMfIQ/UFDad6AWW_I/AAAAAAAABr8/eJ7DTMj-xJs/s1600/south+sisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ry6KYfUMfIQ/UFDad6AWW_I/AAAAAAAABr8/eJ7DTMj-xJs/s400/south+sisters.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The group on top of South Sisters. Good practice in using poles, and 2 good falls to remind me that I'm clumsy (note: the carbon Black Diamond Z-poles are delicate, and will shatter if fallen upon).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I arrived early enough to head to Courmayeur, Italy (roughly the half-way point on the UTMB course) to spend some time with the Gaylords and see part of the descent down into Courmayeur on Sunday afternoon, and the climb up out of Courmayeur to Refuge Bertone on Monday morning. Topher had suggested I climb the couple hundred of feet on the other side of Bertone so that I could look down the valley on the other side and take in the views. In a hurry to get back down to breakfast in Courmayeur and start indulging in my pre-race pastry taper plan, I opted to skip out on his suggestion thinking, "I'll save it for race day--it'll be even more special that way." He described that section of the trail as the beginning of the part which mimics the coastal trail in the Marin Headlands--rolling and runnable with amazing views (the apline'y meadow portion with big Alp'y mountains in the background where I planned to sing the Sound of Music theme song loudly). Both the descent down into and climb out of Courmayeur were steep, but they didn't shock me. They weren't too unlike parts of climbs I'd trained on, and while I was glad to see them to get an idea of what I was in for, the whole thing still seemed doable.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qwQzJdIWSss/UEjdokhutHI/AAAAAAAABq8/JUW5X__7VpQ/s1600/Profil-UTMB-2012.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="124" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qwQzJdIWSss/UEjdokhutHI/AAAAAAAABq8/JUW5X__7VpQ/s400/Profil-UTMB-2012.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What we should have done....Instead, we turned right at La Balme (39 K pt on this chart).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
On Monday I headed back to Chamonix to meet up with Meghan and head out to Megeve, where we would be staying with our hosts, John and Sheila Catts, and additional guests, Bruce, Karen, Karl and Erika. John and Erika were to run TDS, while Meghan, Karl and I would be running UTMB. Megeve was lovely and peaceful; a nice quiet reprieve from Chamonix, where there were just a few too many achievement shirt and spandex-sporting runners milling about to put one at ease.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XpiGnhpcZ_s/UFDe9SDF1GI/AAAAAAAABsU/bgcgvfgdajY/s1600/utmb.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XpiGnhpcZ_s/UFDe9SDF1GI/AAAAAAAABsU/bgcgvfgdajY/s400/utmb.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As luck would have it, these were the views in the days leading up to (and following) the race. UTMB seems to be cursed. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Things started to look grim early in the week, as the forecast called for rain beginning on Wednesday or Thursday and lasting through Friday. Even though we knew the bad weather was coming, there was still hope, as the weather on Wednesday was summer-like and Meghan and I got out to tour a bit of the course near Notre Dame de la Gorge. We were in shorts and t-shirts, and sweating, so it seemed possible that the weather forecast could be wrong, and that the current weather would hold. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9zbz5ftzMyc/UEpnM9FjixI/AAAAAAAABrU/ZsokH9XdLOU/s1600/Notre+Dame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9zbz5ftzMyc/UEpnM9FjixI/AAAAAAAABrU/ZsokH9XdLOU/s400/Notre+Dame.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan and I checking out the "course" near Notre Dame de la Gorge. We weren't actually on course, but did find a steep technical climb that resembled parts of the course. Warm and sunny! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the end, things took a turn for the worse, and what seemed grim earlier in the week, would have been ideal. But the earlier forecast for rain, turned to snow and heavy winds, with predicted temperatures and the snow line moving lower and lower as Friday approached.<br />
<br />
Erika and John began TDS on Thursday morning, and we got updates from Sheila (who was out crewing for John and Erika) about how bad things were out on the course. It rained incessantly, and things continued to look grim for our start on Friday evening. We received a text stating we'd need to carry more layers. But, the show looked like it would go on, as a statement made at the press conference on Thursday afternoon insisted that the race would go on as scheduled on the original course. Runners panicked, and Chamonix retailers benefitted from a rush on purchasing additional layers. I tried to wrap my head around the idea that we would be heading up into what might feel like a blizzard at 9000 feet (10 cm of snow with wind gusts up to 70 km/hr and temps that would feel like -10C). I like to think that I like extreme weather, and was even excited about the idea of really miserable conditions. Might as well make an epic race even more so. <br />
<br />
However, the race officials deemed it unwise to send 2500 runners up into a blizzard, so around noon on Friday we received another text stating that the course would be changed, keeping us in France at lower elevations, with total climb of about 6000 m (20,000 ft) over 100 km. So, we wrapped our head around this news, totally bummed out by the realization that we basically would be going for a night run on a cold rainy night with zero views of the Alps. Really, with zero views of anything, except the tunnel vision of the trail in your direct headlamp beam that comes with racing at night, made even worse by the fog, when you literally can't see much of the trail even. Wait, can't we Oregonians do that on any night for about 9 months of the year?<br />
<br />
To be continued....(In an effort to at least get part of this out before Christmas, I'll stop here, and continue on soon, I hope).<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com104tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-89051970535864133632012-08-10T13:18:00.002-04:002012-08-15T14:45:42.419-04:00WS 2012: Uninspired<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
OK, I wrote this about a month ago, and just have been too lazy/busy to hit publish. It sounded a bit too negative (well, I guess it still does, because I haven't changed it), but I'll post it anyway. It's how I was feeling at the time. Time to move on to other events, and post something more recent, but I like to do things in order. So, these were my thoughts as of about a month ago...<br />
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Bleh. That's kind of how I feel about the whole WS experience. Kind of how I felt going into it, kind of how the month of June was in general, and kind of how I feel about it afterwards. I probably should be happy with a 25 minute PR on a slower course. And 19:11 is a time that a lot of people would be happy to run on the "full" WS course (the current course not modified by a "snow" route, as was the case last year). I should be happy with F8 in the strongest women's field ever at WS, which means I'm guaranteed a spot for next year. But, I still feel kind of bleh. Uninspired. Which is kind of how I felt during the race. And it's what leaves me wishing I could go back and redo the race, and really, the entire month of June. But there's always next year....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dbfDNk0Z728/T_IPXMjWN0I/AAAAAAAABnY/XBJ6rxjpDuM/s1600/climb+escarpment.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dbfDNk0Z728/T_IPXMjWN0I/AAAAAAAABnY/XBJ6rxjpDuM/s400/climb+escarpment.JPG" width="272" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading up the Escarpment. It was cold, wet, and windy. Photo by Drymax Socks.</td></tr>
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On to the uninspired details: like many others I froze my ass off for the first 35 miles. Western States is known for being a cooker and many WS'ers spend the month leading up to the race spending hours in a sauna to replicate what race day conditions in the canyons should be like. I spent my fair amount of time sweating it out in the sauna, and in the bikram studio. We lucked out, though, and the forecast for unseasonably cool weather turned into downright frigid by race morning. As an Oregonian I was excited for cooler temps, but not necessarily for cold temps. I may be acclimated to cool, but I'm still a hot weather girl at heart. I like that feeling when you're on the verge of heat stroke. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ts8iRd9p33Q/UCVSI1ilCFI/AAAAAAAABp0/Sp4tMD8Tvys/s1600/photo+shoot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ts8iRd9p33Q/UCVSI1ilCFI/AAAAAAAABp0/Sp4tMD8Tvys/s400/photo+shoot.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding up to the top at Squaw for some photos. With Sister and Tim. Photo by Ellie Greenwood.</td></tr>
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The days leading up to WS were fun, although I was feeling pretty anxious. I definitely felt a bit more pressure going into this year's race than any other race I've run. But, for the most part, the drive down and pre-race days with my good friend and pacer, Todd, and sister, Lisa, were great. My sister got to crew and pace me last year, and I think she's fallen more in love with the race than I have. I wouldn't be surprised to see her on the starting line sometime down the road. Pre-race activities included getting to participate in a Luis Escobar photo shoot with Ellie, which was a lot of fun, and he captured some great images. He can make anyone look good.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kwoWW9qCkic/UAnzWylO8oI/AAAAAAAABo8/VV0cM14969A/s1600/legs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kwoWW9qCkic/UAnzWylO8oI/AAAAAAAABo8/VV0cM14969A/s400/legs.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A favorite image from the photo shoot. Luis has an amazing eye, and I love how he plays with light in his images. This was taken on the golf course in the valley in the early morning light. Photo by Luis Escobar.
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The hype that didn't bother me last year during the pre-race festivities, seemed to be a little more overwhelming this year, and I was ready to just get started and be alone in the woods with my thoughts. Race morning finally arrived, and I was anxious to just get out there and get on with it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ynkLTCJr1No/UCVDaWlHiEI/AAAAAAAABpU/5JcphCHSRW4/s1600/Genova+WS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ynkLTCJr1No/UCVDaWlHiEI/AAAAAAAABpU/5JcphCHSRW4/s400/Genova+WS.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing up the Escarpment with Krissy. Photo by Jeffrey Genova.</td></tr>
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Not really expecting the cold to last much past the first 5-10 miles, race morning I put a thin jacket on over my pack, thinking I'd be taking it off on the climb up the Escarpment. Little did I know I'd be wearing it for hours, and then switching to long sleeves at Robinson Flat. Apparently iRunfar tweeted something about me (representing the cold rainy state of Oregon) being the first to shed layers at Robinson--which wasn't exactly true. I had to take off the jacket to get my pack off to get weighed, and then my hands were simply too cold to put it back on. The Ghost Whisperer is a great super lightweight jacket for wind and is deceptively warm, but when it gets super wet, putting it back on is like trying to put on saran wrap, which is hard to do, especially when your fingers are numb. What iRunfar didn't see is that I put on a dry long sleeve shirt 20 meters down the trail. I was numb.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TfEDUoE9LpY/UAiymkrDsbI/AAAAAAAABoQ/LpHdjr2a1tU/s1600/dusty.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TfEDUoE9LpY/UAiymkrDsbI/AAAAAAAABoQ/LpHdjr2a1tU/s400/dusty.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dusty Corners (I think). Arm warmers have been converted into hand warmers after wet gloves turned into icicles. Photo by Hannah Shallice.</td></tr>
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So, I got behind on nutrition and hydration early because my hands were frozen and getting at my pack under my jacket to drink seemed an insurmountable effort I didn't attempt to make often enough. I think this helped set myself up for a long day. My quads started to whimper much earlier than last year, and I could tell early on that the last half was kinda going to suck. My attitude didn't help matters much. My hands were very quickly fat and puffy, and my lower arms were oddly painful. Which in the end was fine, being that you don't run on your wrists, and it gave me something else to dwell on, besides the fact that I wasn't having any fun. It felt kind of like I would imagine severe carpal tunnel to feel like. <br />
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I was running in about 10th place before Robinson Flat (~mile 30), and passed Liza on the climb up to Robinson, and then Tina not too far out from Robinson. Both looked to be struggling with the cold. I was cold, but not nearly as cold as they looked. I was happy to not be a petite female at this point.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gmp8zwufhF0/UAiylkNQhYI/AAAAAAAABoA/PXfHjGwoGCI/s1600/563423_4195919375908_923586031_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gmp8zwufhF0/UAiylkNQhYI/AAAAAAAABoA/PXfHjGwoGCI/s400/563423_4195919375908_923586031_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing up out of the canyons. Joyful expression. Photo by Veronica Whittington Schmidt.</td></tr>
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My quads were starting to suffer by the time we started descending into the canyons (~mile 40). I'm guessing that my quads died early for a couple of reasons. One, I just didn't do enough hill work after training for the flats at Worlds in April. I did do some hill training, but maybe not close enough to race day, and a couple final quad trashing sessions in early June might have done the trick? Not sure. Last year, I'd trashed them 2 weeks out, and then had no problems with them during the race, so maybe there's something to be said for a good final trashing that leaves you sore heading into a shorter (2-week) taper. I've read recently that downhill memory in quads is short-lived, so I'll keep that in mind for UTMB and WS next year, and do some last-minute long descents. And second, I think the early descents with completely numb quads did a fair amount of damage. It's hard to control your running form (pounding/foot slapping) when you can't feel anything. Not sure, as quad death seems to be fairly inexplicable. I've had races where I expected my quads to die based on insufficient training (last year at WS), and they didn't. And races where I expected them to come through like champs (this year at WS), and they didn't. And there is quad soreness and then quad death, when you begin to wonder if you'll end up in the hospital with kidney failure. I was fearing the second, and my body was giving me the same signals.<br />
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My quads started to go in the canyons. JB Benna ran the descent down to El Dorado with me, and while my quads were sore, I was still running downhill well at this point. I also had a video camera on me for a few miles, so maybe stupidly ran the downhill faster than I should have, although the canyon descents were the most fun I had all day. And once your quads start to go, running with the breaks on doesn't seem to help any more than just running naturally without the breaks on. Regardless, the canyons were the part of the course that was the most fun this year because I was still running well, but wasn't freezing my ass off at the same time. However, the canyons also started hinting at the fact that it was going to be a long day. At about the same time I started to feel nauseous. Not to the puking stage, but enough so that fluids and food were unappealing. Again, a sign of bad things to come, especially because I hadn't been drinking during the cold sections, either.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5I8W8elqhug/UAi1Oth5nNI/AAAAAAAABoc/moIJtJK9pJU/s1600/foresthill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5I8W8elqhug/UAi1Oth5nNI/AAAAAAAABoc/moIJtJK9pJU/s400/foresthill.jpg" width="273" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snacking in Foresthill. Sprite and ginger aid were going down really well, so I survived largely on soda for the final 30 miles. I think the question I most often get about running is if my head or neck ever get sore. No. That I don't even notice that giant furball until people start to ask me about it. Photo by Drymax Socks.</td></tr>
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I was moving OK up from Michigan Bluff to Foresthill, but again, just really not that inspired, and going through the motions. I picked up Scott Wolfe in FH, and he tried to motivate me down towards the river. When I'm in a funk, coaching really doesn't do much for me, except make me want to strangle my coach, and I still feel bad that I was a bit grumpy the entire trip with Scott. He kept reminding me to turn left and right at the switchbacks and I some point I turned around and lost it a bit. Where else was I supposed to go when the trail turned sharply to the right, but right? My quads, which had been getting progressively more sore since about mile 40 really started to really scream by the time we reached the river crossing at mile 78, and I feared the next 22 miles, as I could tell it was going to be a slog. <br />
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I dropped off Scott at the river and jumped into a boat with Todd, who would take me to Highway 49 crossing, where my sister would be waiting for me to take me to the finish. Todd is the best crew person/pacer a person could ever ask for. He knows what you want before you ask for it, and was completely focused on my comforts/needs, from the minute we picked him up on Wednesday in Portland, to the minute he dropped himself off (in my car) at his place on Sunday night. He drives, packs the car, runs errands, and any other number of things. Someday I hope to pick Todd up in a race and be a joy to run with--so far that hasn't really happened. Sorry.<br />
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I hadn't passed or been passed by another woman since passing Liza and Tina around Robinson Flat, but immediately after crossing the river heading up towards Green Gate, Krissy went screaming by. To put it into perspective, she passed me at mile 78, and finished 42 minutes ahead of me. That's either a testament to how well she ran the final 22, or just how poorly I did, or a combination of both, but during the race, I just didn't care that she went screaming by. I had no juice to follow, and no will to try to latch on, so didn't even try. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bVIuUmdbeqY/UCkzvCi85dI/AAAAAAAABqM/jpOCKSby3yA/s1600/western+michigan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bVIuUmdbeqY/UCkzvCi85dI/AAAAAAAABqM/jpOCKSby3yA/s400/western+michigan.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not sure exactly where this is, but somewhere before Foresthill, based on the shoes. Photo by Dusty Davis. </td></tr>
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The last 22 miles were just kind of sad and pathetic. I was in a funk, and while I could still run parts, it wasn't pretty and it certainly wasn't joyful. I didn't revel in the experience, or appreciate the beauty of the trail (well, it was getting dark, and the trail is a tunnel of poison oak in this part, which is not a thing of beauty). I just wanted to be done. Why was I out there? Why had I put in so much time for a race I now seemed completely unmotivated to race? It really made me question why I continue to race and barely find balance with my job, running, attempts at failed relationships, friendships that I don't always have enough time for. Oh wait, all of my friends are runners these days. Well, most.<br />
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I picked Lisa up at Highway 49, and just tried to focus on getting to the end without losing too much ground. She made a comment at some point about coming back next year. I reminded her, that there would be no next year unless I managed to stay within top 10. My sister just may be more into WS than I am, and it really has turned into a fun sister-bonding weekend, so I started to stress out a bit at screwing up the last section enough to drop from 7th to 11th or worse. Luckily, not even I could screw it up that much.<br />
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Tina caught me on the climb up to Robie Point at about mile 98.5. I didn't care. 7th or 8th didn't matter much to me at this point, nor could I do anything about it. My quads were trashed to the point of a hobble. Todd met my sister and I at the top of Robie, and they both encouraged me to run. I really couldn't. My journey around the track was pathetic and barely called running.<br />
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In the end my finish time wasn't too far off a finish time that would make me happy. I finished in 19:11, which is a respectable time on the regular course, but I really wanted to be sub-19, and really wanted to hit about 18:45. And while I'm disappointed in the time, I guess I'm most disappointed in my attitude and effort on the day, especially those last 38 miles. I didn't have much fun out there, at an event I had anticipated for months. If you're not having fun, then what's the point?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-si4OjmhD6Wc/UAi5i-eiWNI/AAAAAAAABow/xEov0uq21WU/s1600/finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-si4OjmhD6Wc/UAi5i-eiWNI/AAAAAAAABow/xEov0uq21WU/s400/finish.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shuffling around the track. Photo by Drymax Socks.</td></tr>
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Looking back, the main disappointment with the day was the final third of the race. But while it seems easy now to sit back and wonder if I just gave up, during the race my body just couldn't respond and I was scared to push it. The last 2 hundreds I've run (WS last year and Pine to Palm in 2010) went pretty well from start to finish. I finished feeling like I hadn't done any major bodily harm, and was starting to question the notion I've always had that 100s just aren't that good for you. But this one was similar to my experiences at Massanutten, where blown quads, left me nauseous and at a point where felt that I couldn't actually push any further without doing some internal organ damage. Maybe imagined, but my CPK (26,600), BUN (41) and Creatinine (1.63) tests came back high, and I was peeing Coke-colored after the race, in addition to feeling nauseous for a good 12+ hours after the race. It's hard to explain, but there's a feeling when things just aren't right, and when you're at the verge of doing something that could lead to hospitalization.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BJDPsq1LmHQ/UBG0rQAj1-I/AAAAAAAABpI/RB92sFH7Bd0/s1600/crew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BJDPsq1LmHQ/UBG0rQAj1-I/AAAAAAAABpI/RB92sFH7Bd0/s400/crew.jpg" width="392" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day after. Sister, me and Todd. I don't usually feel short.... Photo by Larry Gassan.</td></tr>
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I just wish the good performances would cause as much of a confidence boost as the lackluster performances do to cause a complete confidence bleed. The "bleh" performances seem to weigh in my mind much more than the good ones, and contribute more to how I perceive myself as a runner. <br />
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Regardless, I get to go back next year, and will work on figuring it all out in the meantime. I get a chance to continue to work on the 100 mile (+) distance at UTMB at the end of August. My approach for that one is to really take in the experience and the scenery and enjoy the journey--smile more often, maybe even laugh on occasion. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DvP49nQKIx4/UCVRwGFcDvI/AAAAAAAABps/sS2Y1Xem6hQ/s1600/meghan+hannah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DvP49nQKIx4/UCVRwGFcDvI/AAAAAAAABps/sS2Y1Xem6hQ/s400/meghan+hannah.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan, Me and Hannah the day after. Meghan and I spent a lot of time together preparing for this and I'm happy that we both made Top 10 and look forward to many more WS training runs next year. Photo by Hannah's camera.</td></tr>
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Huge thanks to Lisa, Todd and Scott. I'm lucky to have an amazing support crew, who despite my grumpiness, seemed to enjoy the experience. Next year I hope to win the "funnest to crew/pace" award, which I definitely didn't win this year.</div>
amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-67162582092361481142012-07-08T22:44:00.000-04:002012-07-09T02:06:50.227-04:00Some thoughts on WS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Not a race report, just a link to a recent podcast Yassine and I did with 3Non-Joggers on our Western States experiences. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3nonjoggers.com/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WEStVAeq9YI/T_pEUJJP40I/AAAAAAAABns/qyMkGSB0xpM/s400/MailmanOne.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where the Magic happens: Mailman One. If you click on the image, it might just take you to the 3Non-Jogger page, but if not, click <a href="http://3nonjoggers.com/">here</a>.</td></tr>
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I will write something up eventually, but some races are harder to write about than others. Sadly, the day was not as effortless as I look in this picture (taken by Luis Escobar the day before WS). All in all, not a complete train wreck. 8th female in 19:11, which means a guaranteed spot for next year, so I get to try it all again next June. And for that, I'm very fortunate. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5k7W7zqC65A/T_pDY7o3VqI/AAAAAAAABnk/fW08YmvuRBU/s1600/pre+WS.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5k7W7zqC65A/T_pDY7o3VqI/AAAAAAAABnk/fW08YmvuRBU/s400/pre+WS.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-39870697369818927632012-05-23T17:32:00.000-04:002012-05-24T12:17:51.072-04:00Photos from the Sun Mountain 50 Miler<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Some photos (taken by <a href="http://galleries.matthagen.com/Running/Sun-Mountain-2012/23111247_sVWCGm#!i=1860998625&k=4WF2cN2">Matt Hagen</a> unless otherwise indicated--thanks for being out there, Matt!) from the Sun Mountain 50 miler on May 20th. I don't feel like writing much, so I'm just posting some pictures (with really long captions....)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rSZp0H7K988/T7wa8EoFRbI/AAAAAAAABlg/byfcPAMf3ro/s1600/short+shorts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="352" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rSZp0H7K988/T7wa8EoFRbI/AAAAAAAABlg/byfcPAMf3ro/s400/short+shorts.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deb, to the left thinking, "Holy crap! Are you wearing those out in public?" I guess that's what happens when you put a short size S short on a 5'9" chick. Gotta say, these are my new favorite shorts. Well done, Mountain Hardwear! I'm guessing they won't be around for long because if exhibitionist Amy likes them, then the general public will not. But these <a href="http://www.mountainhardwear.com/Women%27s-Ultrapacer%E2%84%A2-Short/OL4549,default,pd.html">shorts </a>are awesome (and not just bc they are super short--they're actually super comfortable to run in, as well). I plan to stock up before they come out with anything longer. Long live short shorts!! It seems like someone is finally listening to my pleas (or someone made a mistake). I'm also wearing the new <a href="http://www.mountainhardwear.com/Fluid%E2%84%A2-Race-Vest/OU4515,default,pd.html">MHW Fluid Race Vest</a>, which is super lightweight and it worked well carrying a 70 oz bladder. I love the fact that you can move the 2 chest straps (6 options for placement). Very clever and easy to adjust (not on the fly, but pre-race as you have to physically remove the straps and stick them through a different hole--easy to do, just not while moving). One of my pet peeves with hydration packs is straps that either slide around or aren't adjustable. This strap system takes care of both of those concerns.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9NQYV2jfXMM/T70wAypQYcI/AAAAAAAABls/QuYDJSIhFsU/s1600/race+start.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9NQYV2jfXMM/T70wAypQYcI/AAAAAAAABls/QuYDJSIhFsU/s400/race+start.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out before the start. The shorts look much longer from the front. Had fun hanging out with Linda (to my L) and company at Eric and Kelly's place in Twisp. Was great to hang with old friends, and meet some really cool new ones, as well. Marta (to my R and partially blocked), a friend and training buddy from Portland is getting ready to rock her first 50 miler.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a86fs7lbMHI/T70zfvufcfI/AAAAAAAABmA/MAFn-csyc5k/s1600/flowers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a86fs7lbMHI/T70zfvufcfI/AAAAAAAABmA/MAFn-csyc5k/s400/flowers.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wild flowers were AMAZING! Purple and yellows, more than anything else, but they were everywhere. I wished, initially, that I'd carried a camera, but in hindsight, would have been stopping every 10 feet to take pictures. I loved this race, and would rate it as one of the prettiest I've done. I'd also recommend picking the 50 miler over the shorter distances (25K and 50K) because the first 20 miles (unique to the 50 mile course) were the prettiest part of the course.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KARmtvlx5eU/T70zyb40WjI/AAAAAAAABmg/6yVPtPJzepg/s1600/smiley.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KARmtvlx5eU/T70zyb40WjI/AAAAAAAABmg/6yVPtPJzepg/s400/smiley.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere about mile 11? I ran alone for most of the day. Except for a few miles with Anthony (pictured below). I almost never smile in running pictures, but Matt is a funny guy!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zB8PECfVPio/T70znQdYQuI/AAAAAAAABmQ/33aFjp2E_-s/s1600/marta.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zB8PECfVPio/T70znQdYQuI/AAAAAAAABmQ/33aFjp2E_-s/s400/marta.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marta looking excited to be killing her first 50. She came in 2nd in about 8:12, and had a great time in doing so. Also huge props to <a href="http://bryanmullaney.blogspot.com/2012/05/sun-mountain-50-miler.html">Bryan Mullaney</a>, another training buddy from Portland who also finished strong in his first 50 miler. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C53R0N5Hbd0/T70zsOKrDdI/AAAAAAAABmY/5IT2xCUqrHM/s1600/road.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C53R0N5Hbd0/T70zsOKrDdI/AAAAAAAABmY/5IT2xCUqrHM/s400/road.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running on a road section somewhere in the middle of the race with Anthony from Wenatchee (that's how he introduced himself to me). My only running buddy of the day, as I passed him, but then he sped up to run with me for a few miles. Thanks for the company!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rPGVjxDlpKw/T70z1j6Q-oI/AAAAAAAABmw/qvAySeRWMEA/s1600/turn+around.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rPGVjxDlpKw/T70z1j6Q-oI/AAAAAAAABmw/qvAySeRWMEA/s400/turn+around.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the turn around on the final climb. This last one was the hardest of the day, mainly because I had no idea when it was going to end and was ready for it to end at this point. This is Eric heading around the turn-around sign. He, along with his wife, Kelly, were our wonderful hosts for the weekend. Thanks! I'm willing to house sit as needed! Seriously, the Twisp/Winthrop area (Methow Valley) is one worth checking out. Awesome views, great trails, great climbs, dryer weather...a great wet-season getaway from the rainy PNW. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3x6Mlz4gCvY/T70zjpOEcII/AAAAAAAABmI/9tVYryOvlyg/s1600/last+down.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3x6Mlz4gCvY/T70zjpOEcII/AAAAAAAABmI/9tVYryOvlyg/s400/last+down.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading down from the final climb. Because of the out-and-back nature of the last bit of the final climb, you can for the first time all day, get a gauge as to whether or not anyone is within 10-15 minutes or so. No one was behind me (well, no women), so I opted to head in gently as I was hoping to preserve my quads for the upcoming 2 weekends, which include a big mileage weekend at the WS training camp, and a R2R2R. I didn't feel super strong on the climbs all day, but the fact that my quads weren't sore after the race is a good sign, as they were completely trashed 2 weeks ago when I did my first long run with significant climbing post-Worlds. Hopefully the next 2 weekends of significant climbing/descending will be good enough to get me sub-19 at Western States.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7-q2cGJSqKE/T70wFBlyEAI/AAAAAAAABl0/BXnkXvUXA_8/s1600/style.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7-q2cGJSqKE/T70wFBlyEAI/AAAAAAAABl0/BXnkXvUXA_8/s400/style.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How cool is this? A genuine stile. We got to climb up and over it at about mile 48. After this, it's a gentle downhill and then an annoying little climb into the finish. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gbIQNkLSCtw/T70z3AUZsvI/AAAAAAAABm4/FmMk2pWdzEU/s1600/views.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gbIQNkLSCtw/T70z3AUZsvI/AAAAAAAABm4/FmMk2pWdzEU/s400/views.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Songs from the Sound of Music kept popping into my head. Running along wild flower-laden trails with views of snow-capped peaks does that to me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0VBxWbk2csg/T7018nlskuI/AAAAAAAABnA/SixREwwSPPc/s1600/2011+sun+mountain+50m+profile+(6+aid).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="60" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0VBxWbk2csg/T7018nlskuI/AAAAAAAABnA/SixREwwSPPc/s400/2011+sun+mountain+50m+profile+(6+aid).JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the course profile as listed on the <a href="http://sunmountaintrailraces.blogspot.com/">Sun Mountain website</a>. The course is basically a 20 mile section unique to the 50 miler and then the last 30 is the same as the 50K course. Last year a 4 mile section in the first 20 was missed, so the elevation profile here reflects the fact that last year's course was closer to 46, and there's a 4-mile chunk missing somewhere in that first 20. This year we got to do the full 50. The elevation profile would imply that that first 20 is relatively flat, but there was at least one big climb in there, so maybe that's the section that was missed last year. I always seemed to be surprised by what was coming up, and at what mile a climb was supposed to begin and end. I turned around on a couple of occasions, once when confused 25Kers told me I was going the wrong way (I wasn't). The course was marked insanely well, though, so I should have just trusted the signs. All told, I finished in 7:21, a time I'm happy with on a course with a bit of up and down. A good race for me, nothing stellar, but I went into it to get in a solid training run building up to Western States, with the desire to leave something for the next two hard weeks of training and to be able to walk on Monday (race was on Sunday). I ran 10 miles on Tuesday and felt better than I ever have after a 50 miler, so mission accomplished.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSVY4DQ0wAo/T71Q9D_33OI/AAAAAAAABnM/BbC1VUT9PDE/s1600/shawna.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSVY4DQ0wAo/T71Q9D_33OI/AAAAAAAABnM/BbC1VUT9PDE/s400/shawna.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out with Shawna at the finish. Shawna opted for the 50K as she prepares for the San Diego 100 in a couple of weeks, which was smart for her, but too bad for me, as it would have been fun to have her company out on the 50 mile course. James, Candice and all of the volunteers put on a great show, and the post-race festivities were no exception with kegs of beer, local pizza, and a great band (<a href="http://theblackberrybushes.com/">Blackberry Bushes Stringband</a>). Photo by Joseph Tompkins.<br />
Check out all of Rainshadow Running events on their <a href="http://www.rainshadow-running.blogspot.com/">website</a>. Highly recommended! Low key vibe, beautiful courses.</td></tr>
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</div>amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5032959759035716824.post-20537371503058800752012-04-27T13:13:00.004-04:002012-05-02T18:25:32.164-04:00Gold!! Wait....did that really just happen?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm not really sure how to put the World 100K experience into words. I'm still not sure that it actually happened. The month leading up to it had been trying, and had you told me at any point during that period what the final result would be, I would have laughed. I was definitely not a favorite going in from my point of view or anyone else's. Exactly five weeks prior to race day I was discharged from the hospital after suffering from a pulmonary embolism, which was the follow-on to the deep vein thrombosis that showed up in my right calf after a flight from Istanbul. I've already blogged ad nauseum on the experience, so please see the previous four posts if you'd like the full story.... In short, after a frustrating week of calf pain which resulted in 3 days in the hospital with PE and follow-up guidance from my ex-doc not to run for at least a month, I found a doctor who gave me the advice I wanted to hear (run) and was cleared to ease back into training. I did so, and after a few days, didn't feel any adverse affects from the DVT/PEs. The five weeks leading up to Worlds mileage-wise were 11, 50, 79, 85, 42, and this was following a month on the road for work. Not ideal, but less-than-ideal training seems to be the story of my life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FGk-Xjx2poc/T5nsEHcE4YI/AAAAAAAABjw/YXEfrr5BpH8/s1600/meg+and+me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FGk-Xjx2poc/T5nsEHcE4YI/AAAAAAAABjw/YXEfrr5BpH8/s400/meg+and+me.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan and I on the balcony at La Montanina.</td></tr>
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On to Italy--so after the not-so-ideal lead-up to the event, I was really happy just to be there, and to be able to compete with my amazing teammates. I wanted to place top 10 so that I could score a guaranteed spot on the 2013 team and figured I needed to run sub-8 hours to do that, but was really hoping for somewhere between 7:45-7:50 and somewhere closer to top 5 place-wise. Meghan and I planned to start out together, although her time goal was a bit faster (7:40) than mine. And the real objective was to score as highly as possible for team USA. It's much easier to push yourself when you're part of a team you love. Part of the reason I was so upset at the possibility of not running, was not being able to compete as a part of this particular team, as I really like the individual members so much.<br />
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I was a bit freaked out about flying, but carefully selected a bulkhead exit row aisle seat and had more leg room than I knew what to do with. On the PDX-Amsterdam leg, I watched 4 movies and didn't sleep a wink while doing calf raises and heel presses every few minutes and probably walked a mile during the flight. I arrived in Milan on Wednesday exhausted, and made my way to Seregno and eventually on to our accommodations at La Montanina, a Catholic retreat center up in the mountains about an hour's drive from Seregno. The way the World 100K event works is that an established race bids to host the championship (that's why the date jumps around year to year), and the local organizing committee (LOC) arranges lodging and transportation for the teams. This year there were many issues with logistics, and I won't dwell on the specifics, but let's just say that there were a lot of unhappy campers due to lodging and transportation problems. It was bad enough to be almost comical at times, but maybe not that comical to nervous runners before a big race. I ended up in a large attic room of 20 beds with Meghan, her entourage, and Lin, and had a great time in their company. Meals were tasty, scenery was spectacular, and in the end, how does one complain with views like the ones pictured below? Yeah, people were lost on buses for hours at a time and most people didn't get their preferred rooming arrangements, but we were staying in front of the freakin' Dolomites....life isn't so bad!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QC1XRmWwx20/T5qrXKY1x4I/AAAAAAAABk0/iqT0MUpR2c0/s1600/hotel+foggy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QC1XRmWwx20/T5qrXKY1x4I/AAAAAAAABk0/iqT0MUpR2c0/s400/hotel+foggy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Montanina in the rain. The sun finally popped out on Friday for some spectacular views.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wuATDpB7fPQ/T5qqFUcjhaI/AAAAAAAABkc/zHaJQdHjEaI/s1600/dolomites.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wuATDpB7fPQ/T5qqFUcjhaI/AAAAAAAABkc/zHaJQdHjEaI/s400/dolomites.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mountains behind our hotel getting some late afternoon sun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zYmTI3h-vYQ/T5qqjd3D24I/AAAAAAAABkk/CM-AxcB9YZY/s1600/lago+di+como.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zYmTI3h-vYQ/T5qqjd3D24I/AAAAAAAABkk/CM-AxcB9YZY/s400/lago+di+como.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset a short walk from our lodge. Alps in the background and Lake Como below. Not a bad place to hang out pre-race.</td></tr>
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The pre-race days were spent with easy shake-out runs, team meetings, exploring nearby towns to find good eats, grocery stores, and WiFi connections, and opening ceremonies/parade. The day prior we all prepared our race nutrition, and I opted to go with 8 oz. bottles of Clif shot drink every 5K and a Clif shot gel every 10K. We'd have our handlers stationed at the 5K and 15K aid stations, and then un-manned aid at the start/finish and 10K stations (in the end there were folks working those stations, as well). This is one aspect that differs from trail races in that you never actually need to stop running. The handlers are there ready to hand off to you as you run by, so unless you're requesting something different than planned, you never actually need to stop and the courses are generally flat enough that there is never an excuse to walk.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j1Qm66yuDFw/T5nrXtjFmNI/AAAAAAAABjY/Wz9dq74jic0/s1600/oregon+women.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j1Qm66yuDFw/T5nrXtjFmNI/AAAAAAAABjY/Wz9dq74jic0/s400/oregon+women.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Oregon (Cassie, Meghan, me and Pam). </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v1z5pOHMfxo/T5nrkvPMVdI/AAAAAAAABjg/DFdD-0n8MFY/s1600/team.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v1z5pOHMfxo/T5nrkvPMVdI/AAAAAAAABjg/DFdD-0n8MFY/s400/team.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team USA at the parade. </td></tr>
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Race morning I didn't feel overly nervous. I was just excited to get started, which took a bit longer than expected after some bus delays caused athletes to arrive late to the start. The course was a 20K loop, mostly flat, but with some rollers on the back half. It wound through neighborhoods, parks, the downtown pedestrian mall, along the interstate, side streets, more parks, etc. It was varied enough to be interesting, and insanely well marked. For what the LOC missed out on in terms of pre-race and post-race organization, they nailed it when it came to the race itself.<br />
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Lap 1: Meghan and I started off together, as planned, and lap 1 passed quickly (more so than intended) and fairly effortlessly. I felt good, Meghan felt good, life was good. My biggest fear going in was that I would have to make frequent bathroom stops, which would have caused me to break off from Meghan and just waste a lot of time, in general. An important lesson learned last year was that it's hard to make forward progress when you're squatting alongside the road with your shorts (huggers, in this case) around your ankles. I had taken one Imodium 30 minutes before the start, and it seemed to work. I didn't need to dash into the bushes, nor did Meghan, and we were able to pace off each other as planned. The pace was quicker than intended (7:08/mile average for first 20K; we had intended closer to 7:15-20/mile) but was still conversational. I was smiley (intentionally so--I usually look like I'm overly serious in race pictures), and was popping smiles and thumbs ups as often as I could (so far all of the race pictures I've seen don't show me smiling, so maybe I wasn't as smiley as I thought I was). But, I was having fun, and the first lap felt good. First lap in 1:28:39 (7:08 pace), which was about 1:30 faster than intended.<br />
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--Let me take a minute to mention that I think the world of Meghan, and of the friendship that has developed between us since being teammates and roommates at Worlds in the Netherlands this past September. Meghan has complete confidence in my abilities, and her confidence in me has rubbed off on me, and really helped me see myself as capable of achieving things I didn't think possible. We live not too far from each other (80 miles), and have been able to train together several times over the past months. Last year at Worlds I started off the race with Meghan and Devon and didn't really feel like I belonged in their company (and maybe I didn't at the time). This year I started off with Meghan and felt completely confident that I belonged there and that we were each strong enough to push each other to great performances depending on how the day unfolded.--<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UhX-pZQ_VM0/T5nusmrCUjI/AAAAAAAABkQ/iict7DfN6ms/s1600/meg+and+me+running.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UhX-pZQ_VM0/T5nusmrCUjI/AAAAAAAABkQ/iict7DfN6ms/s400/meg+and+me+running.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan and I somewhere on Lap 1 or 2. Photo by Raymond Pretat.</td></tr>
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Lap 2: Even though we continually commented about slowing down slightly, we didn't back off of the pace, and came through 40K (2:57:31 cumulative) almost exactly the same as the first loop in1:28:52 (7:09 pace/mile). I hoped that if I continued to run at this pace as long as possible, I'd have more room to slow down later. I felt great at the beginning of the loop. I can remember getting chills as we passed the 5K aid station (so 25K in)--a combination of hearing the cheers from our aid station supporters and just feeling so fluid and effortless--a sensation I'm not sure I've ever experienced. The remainder of lap 2 felt good, but towards the end of the lap I started to feel like I was on a long run, and like I would need to slow down a bit. <br />
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Lap 3: I could no longer hang with Meghan and started to drop back. I really had to pee at this point, and didn't want to stop, so worked at peeing on the run. Not an easy thing to do or anything I've ever done (intentionally), but after several miles, finally figured it out. Uh, disgusting, yes, and wet shoes on an otherwise dry day, disgusting, as well. Not a tactic I'd use on most days, but I didn't want to lose any time here and a port-a-potty stop seemed like a waste of time, so went with it. I felt like I was really slowing down as Meghan pulled away, but then looked at my watch and realized I hadn't slowed down much, just that Meghan had sped up. The giddy fluidity that occurred in Lap 2 was gone by Lap 3, but I was able to maintain a fairly steady pace. During this lap I set both marathon (3:06--have only run a few and haven't run one in 8 years) and 50K (3:41) PRs. I didn't get a total lap time on this lap, but if I average out Lap 3 and 4, I averaged approximately 1:31:30 for Lap 3. Meghan was in sight for a while, but was probably about 2 minutes up at some point. Nearing the end of Lap 3, I looked back while in the snake-y park section and thought I could see at least a woman or two in the park, so that motivated me to pick up the pace and start worrying about what was behind me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-inlfyZ7H_4k/T5rQ9HRT5-I/AAAAAAAABlA/_jocmdlU34w/s1600/meg+and+me+gel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-inlfyZ7H_4k/T5rQ9HRT5-I/AAAAAAAABlA/_jocmdlU34w/s400/meg+and+me+gel.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In stride early on. Photo by Raymond Pretat.</td></tr>
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Lap 4: Early on in the race, Meghan and I had been hearing, 4th and 5th, and not much about how far back we were, but getting into Lap 4, I started to hear a consistent number of people say that I was 3rd, and 3:00 back. We never passed or were passed by any women along the way, so there must have been some drops up front. While Meghan was mainly in view, she was as at least 2:00 ahead of me at some point. I didn't pay much attention to the reports, as I really wasn't chasing first, but was just trying to stay consistent and not lose my current place. I felt better on Lap 4 than on Lap 3, in that I was still holding a fairly consistent pace, and was that much closer to the end, and figured that Lap 5 would take care of itself. I crossed the 80K point at 6:00:44, which meant a 57 minute 50 mile PR. Holy crap. I would never dream of running a 6 hour 50-miler, so was pretty psyched to hit this split in the midst of a 100K.<br />
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Lap 5: I don't remember much about the beginning of Lap 5, except that I tried to just keep pushing at a consistent pace. It was at the 90K mark, that I started to hear people yelling a bit more excitedly that I was 45 seconds or 30 seconds back, and I think it only started to dawn on me then, that I was really pretty close to the leader. I hadn't even considered that going after the lead was a possibility up to this point. It didn't take long before that reality presented itself, and I could see Meghan and the Swedish runner, Kajsa Berg, within view. I watched Meghan make a move into first, and was thinking how freaking amazing it would be for a 51-year-old to take home the world title. And then I watched Meghan come back to me and Berg move back into the lead. When I passed Meghan, she told me she was bonking and to go for it. I think I say, "Hey, me too," and not much else. At the 92 K point, so 5 miles from the finish, I caught Berg, and passed without much of a surge. My first thought, was, "Hey, it would be fun to say I led this thing if even for a few steps." I didn't say anything as I passed, not sure if I should have, but, "Hey, great job," seemed kind of trite at the moment. After passing without much oomph I realized I should probably try to put a bit more authority into a surge, so as to make her think she was getting dropped. I made an effort at a surge, and didn't look back. I passed the aid station at 95K, and the US folks were going nuts. I'm guessing they were shocked, but so was I. It's not too much past that when you come to the only out-and-back section on the course, a 1 block, around a cone, type of deal, so knew I had at least a 2-block lead when I exited that section and Berg hadn't entered it yet. At this point, I was having lots of internal debates in my head. I was thinking about how others would handle this situation. Ellie was one that came to mind. What would Ellie do? Ellie would turn into a focused little machine and kick the heck out of the end of the race. Amy, on the other hand, who is typically afraid of such scenarios would back off, but there was really no where to back off to, and I thought about how much I would regret having had a golden opportunity to win a world championship, and then not having the inner fortitude to get it done. I also kept coming back to the thought, "but I'm just not fast enough to win this kind of stuff." But I seemed to be, so tried to just stop thinking, and focus on the fact that if I could just maintain this low'ish 7:00 pace, I was going to win this damn thing. Holy shit! I snaked through the neighborhoods (the course had tons of turns...there weren't many sections that went straight for long) and finally turned onto the street with the finish. Not the actual finish, because they then have you enter a park where you snake around, and back out onto the street with the finish, but this was around the 98K point. I entered the park, and did the big loop around, and glanced over across the park and could see the motorcycle (with the Swede....not sure why they opted to stay with her, but it made it easy to see her). At this point, I knew I had nothing to worry about because I was only a couple minutes to the finish, and she was maybe 300 meters behind. I turned back onto the road, and knowing I didn't need to sprint, enjoyed the last block into the finish. There was no tape to cross (maybe bc the motorcycle wasn't with me, and they didn't realize I was in first?), and after finishing I was whisked immediately into drug testing, so the finish itself was a little anticlimactic. Finish time of 7:34:08 (7:19 pace/mile), a 36 minute PR. GOLD!<br />
<br />
The anti-doping bit was not that much fun. My understanding of it was that there would be beverage options, including beer, which I dearly wanted, but we were only offered water. So, I proceeded to chug 3 L of water in a fairly short period of time. At some point, they brought my requested beer, but it had been opened outside so I wasn't allowed to drink it. They then brought me a 1.5 L coke, which I also downed. 4.5 L of fluids and it still took me over 2 hours to pee. I guess I shouldn't have been peeing on the run. Lesson learned. It was disgusting anyway.<br />
<br />
While in anti-doping, I quickly learned that Meghan and Pam had finished in 4th and 5th and that we were a lock for team gold, so between the team gold and individual gold, you really couldn't ask for anything more out of the experience. Meghan suffered for a bit around the 95K point, getting passed by the Russian for 3rd, but then held on to keep 4th and finish in a new age group world record (breaking her own) and PR in 7:41:52. Pam ran steady all day to finish in 7:43:04 for 5th, a huge PR for her, as well. Carolyn suffered from severe blisters, which caused some extended stops to remedy them, but finished in 8:32:15, which is a qualifying time for 2013 in South Korea. Annette struggled all day with stomach issues but didn't quit when many would have and showed true heart by pushing through to finish in 9:47:40. Cassie was injured going in, and dropped early. The men had some break-through performances (those of Joe Binder and Jon Owens especially) and finished a strong second behind the Italians. With 4 US men in the top ten, that means 4 automatics qualifiers for South Korea. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RNzrgQsJqMA/T5mDa7HfQHI/AAAAAAAABjE/qneAqI0aYXU/s1600/Worlds+podium.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RNzrgQsJqMA/T5mDa7HfQHI/AAAAAAAABjE/qneAqI0aYXU/s400/Worlds+podium.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is this picture real? How did this happen?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FuJAnK2mrl8/T5ntr39sv2I/AAAAAAAABkA/CqT0JesK_yY/s1600/team+podium.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FuJAnK2mrl8/T5ntr39sv2I/AAAAAAAABkA/CqT0JesK_yY/s400/team+podium.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team USA singing proudly.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBewsObVVlY/T5nto2cjbNI/AAAAAAAABj4/tSdxlqA6cNw/s1600/team+montrail+awards.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBewsObVVlY/T5nto2cjbNI/AAAAAAAABj4/tSdxlqA6cNw/s400/team+montrail+awards.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Montrail (Annette, me and Sean) at the awards ceremony.</td></tr>
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A few days later, and I'm still slightly incredulous that it happened. Incredulous that I won, but also, that I won it in a time that ranks up there with some fast women. And I'm still not really sure how that happened (I'm not that fast!). I've received an overwhelming number of FB messages, calls, tweets, texts, hugs, etc, and while I haven't had the chance to respond to each individually, I'd like to thank everyone for the amazing support and encouragement. At work they even put up a finish line tape for me to officially cross leading into my cube (how very observant of them). It really has been an awesome experience. Standing on top of the podium while the national anthem plays for both individual and team gold is hard to describe. I think the pictures do a fairly good job describing it without words, though. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JinPOxQfM6E/T5rS5wUyKxI/AAAAAAAABlI/LaWtxhQbfDA/s1600/100k+times.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JinPOxQfM6E/T5rS5wUyKxI/AAAAAAAABlI/LaWtxhQbfDA/s400/100k+times.JPG" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top 25 100K times by North American residents. (!!)</td></tr>
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There has been some nice press on the race, and here are links to: <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2012/04/team-usa-womens-iau-100k-world-champions-interview.html">iRunFar</a>, <a href="http://news.runnersworld.com/2012/04/23/amy-sproston-usa-women-win-iau-100k/">Runner's World</a>, <a href="http://runningtimes.com/Article.aspx?ArticleID=25937">Running Times</a>, <a href="http://usatf.org/News/Sproston-Named-USATF-Athlete-of-the-Week.aspx">USATF</a>, <a href="http://www.iau-ultramarathon.org/">IAU</a>, <a href="http://www.clifbar.com/play/team_clif/amy_sproston_wins_the_100k_world_championships/#top-post">ClifBar</a>, and <a href="http://www.reviewatlas.com/news/x1364628005/Monmouth-native-Amy-Sproston-world-champion">the Daily Review Atlas</a> (hometown paper).<br />
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The bunhuggers will be back for Worlds in 2013, which will take place in September in South Korea on Jeju Island (google it--looks amazing!). I will start the ab/arm work a bit earlier this time (and maybe a tan), but I gotta say, I loved wearing the huggers. They really do make you feel fast (or like you want to run fast so as to not spend that much time in public).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sk1hJwr87P0/T57FXBCYfeI/AAAAAAAABlU/kzp8-owQe1k/s1600/2012+Pierre.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sk1hJwr87P0/T57FXBCYfeI/AAAAAAAABlU/kzp8-owQe1k/s400/2012+Pierre.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pierre is becoming a very well-traveled prairie dog. Photo by Darryl Schaffer.</td></tr>
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</div>amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17331844957221069032noreply@blogger.com60