Mt. Hood PCT 50

First, kudos to Todd for quite possibly the coolest logo ever--well, to me, anyhow, as I love Mt. Hood and how she peers down upon us in Portland on sunny days, tempting us to escape the city and come play.  Earlier in the year I had planned to run White River 50 again (which was on the same day), but when I saw the logo and heard there would be pint glasses for finisher's awards, I opted to run the Mt. Hood PCT 50 instead.  That's not the complete story, but it works for now.  And check out the finisher's pint glass--pretty sweet, no?  In the end, there were several friends heading over from Portland to run, and I'd never run up near Mt. Hood, so opted to stay local and explore some new trails.

Ymmmm.  Oregon.  Beer.  Oregon beer.  

Pam had put a little pressure on me to go after the course record, noting that it was soft.  It was hers, so I doubted that it was too soft, and I had no intention of racing hard with Waldo 3 weeks away. But, it gave me something to shoot for, assuming I didn't have to kill myself to get it.

I was impressed and amazed that we even made it to the starting line, as the week prior had been insanely stressful and busy at work, and as I logged off my computer at work at 5:30 on Friday, I knew that I could easily continue working through the weekend and be no closer to being caught up on Monday morning. There had been some late work nights (1:30 a.m. on Wednesday as an example), so I was all too eager to switch off my computer and escape to the trails for the weekend.  Reality would still be there on Monday morning, and I would deal with it then.  Post-stressful-week packing is never good, although I remembered most key items, like shoes and a sports bra.  Jason and I were like a train wreck trying to pack up the car and get out of town, but finally got on the road by 7. The one key item I forgot was my sleeping bag, which is important when camping up in the mountains.  Luckily, a fleece blanket had been thrown in as an afterthought, and I awoke Saturday morning only mildly chilled. Keeping with the chaotic nature of the week, the start line prep felt rushed as we arrived a bit later than desired, but managed to line up in time for Todd to start us off.  I'll blame the fact that I was freezing at the start line in my singlet, as to why I ran the first mile with Yassine. I warmed up quickly, and realized that running with Yassine was probably a bad idea if I wanted a pint glass, so dropped back and shared the first 6 or 7 miles with Ian Sharman.  This doesn't sound much wiser, except that Ian typically starts off slowly and then builds speed throughout a race. So, he got in a few slow miles of warm-up before he bounded up the first mini-climb and out of sight for good. 

Trying to keep pace with Yassine.  Ha!  I guess I was feeling a bit cocky, as I don't usually  start up quite that close to the front.

I felt fine through the first aid station (mile 6'ish), but heading up the first real hill around mile 7 I had a bit of a melt down. Suddenly, my legs had 0 juice, and I felt like I was having a panic attack. A little wheezing and absolutely no energy in the quads. I think I was "running" 20 minute miles. WTF? It was not a hill that was worthy of walking, but I allowed myself a few steps to evaluate the situation.  My mind was still whirling from the busy week, and I think it was just a mini-freak out from the stress of the week, and then finding oneself thrown into the middle of the woods slogging through 50 miles. I downed a gel, continued slogging up the hill, and the panic went away, and once I started heading downwards to the first turn-around at the Frog Lake aid station, I felt relatively OK.  Somewhere in here, we started passing early starters, and this gave me something to think about and distract myself from my own thoughts.  A nice cruisable downhill into the aid station, I tried to politely pass early starters without flinging anyone off the trail. Lots of nice views of Mt. Hood through this section, as well.  

PCT en route from Frog Lake aid station.  Lovely, soft, runnable trail. 

Somewhere after Frog Lake (mile 14) I had my first explosive stomach issue of the day. I blame it mainly on the fact that we got up late, and got to the start late, so there just wasn't time to let things settle.  Otherwise, my stomach felt OK, until very late in the race.  A note on headphones, here, as I intentionally pissed someone off somewhere in this section. So, I'm attempting to pass a group of 3, and the woman in front is wearing headphones.  I'd called out to the other 2 to let them know I was coming by, and passed them without incident, but then called out a few times to the woman in front, who just plodded along clueless to the world around her.  I noticed she was wearing headphones, so leaned over and yelled (almost directly) in her ear, "Passing on your left," which intentionally scared the crap out of her.  Sorry, but if you're an early starter on a double out-and-back, where you know you're going to have about 150 people passing you, DON'T WEAR HEADPHONES. Is this not common sense? Or, turn them down enough so that you can hear what's happening around you. OK, I'll stop with the rant.  And yes, I can be a brat sometimes.  

Coming into an aid station.  Lots of lovely shaded trail all day. 

Besides running the first miles with Ian, I ran alone the rest of the day.  Luckily I was alone when I took my one major face plant of the day, probably about mile 20.  It was on a smooth pine-needle'y downhill, so scuffed up my knee a bit, and made me really dirty, but otherwise had no major impact on the day.  I hadn't fallen in a while (as in about 6 weeks, but I tend to go through falling spurts, and this seems to have been the start of the most recent crashing trend which has continued this week).  

Lots of nice views of Hood.  Not this particular view, but ones similar....

The course is a double out-and-back on the PCT, with most of the significant climbing (although nothing is really significant in a course with 5600 feet of climb) coming in the final out-and-back.  So, the course goes out 14 and then back, bringing you through the start/finish at mile 28.  You then head the opposite direction on the PCT for 11 miles, and back to the finish.  After the first out-and-back, I made it back to the start/finish in 3:48, so 28 miles in 3:48. I figured if I ran the second half in the same time, I'd run 7:36 and get in under Pam's 7:42. Surely I could run 22 miles as fast as I'd run 28?  I hadn't really had time to check out the elevation profile, except briefly. A little course knowledge is sometimes worse than no course knowledge, because I remembered there were bumps on the elevation profile, but couldn't remember exactly where they were. As it turns out, they are all in that last 22, or at least they seemed to be. 

There's a long'ish gentle climb up from the start/finish to the next aid station at mile 33.  I mixed in a bit of run/walk, as I wasn't feeling a lot of oomph.  I wasn't suffering, just didn't have the motivation to push the pace much.  It was nice to see familiar faces at the aid station up top, but was disappointed when Rick couldn't confirm that the course immediately went downhill.  He was right, as we ran along top for another mile or so, but eventually the nice long downhill started, and my mood improved. Then there was one more slog up to the turn-around aid station, which was a happy sight, as I'd now be moving in the direction of the finish line.  I made sure to time when I passed the next female, as she hadn't been too far behind at mile 14.  Heading down from the turn-around, I was happy to see she was now at least 30 minutes back, so I didn't have anything to worry about in terms of staying in front--while I wasn't feeling very competitive, I also never like to be passed in the last 10 miles after leading all day.  I could slog homewards to my heart's content, although  I did still want to get the course record, so was motivated to make an effort to keep moving at a reasonable pace. A nice slog up to the Tuesday night group's aid station, followed by a nice long down to the finish.  Nothing too eventful in the final 11 except for some brief stomach issues, which necessitated a not-very-private stop about 2 miles from the finish due to poor planning and the emergency nature of the stop, and lost a few minutes and a  place to the poor soul who also had to witness my somewhat-public bathroom display.  

Timothy Lake: a nice spot for some post-run soaking.  

In the end, I didn't run the second 22 much faster than the first 28, and finished in 7:30. Pam had called the record soft, and I'll add that the record is still soft.  Throughout the day I didn't have a whole lot of juice, and while at times felt like I was cruising along OK, other times felt like I was shuffling through the motions. The word "blah" sums up the race for me pretty well in terms of effort.  The weekend on the whole was a big thumbs up, as it was a fun weekend with friends in a beautiful spot in Oregon. There are so many trails and lakes and places to explore around Mt. Hood, and being up there this weekend was a reminder that I need to get up there more, and just how lucky I am to live in Oregon.  Lots of great times were run by friends out there, and it was fun to see so many familiar faces on trail. Even after his slow start with me, Ian went on to dust the previous course record in 6:29. Laura Kantor completed her first 50 miler in a great time--she is truly an inspiration. Yassine, always strong, ran well for second, and cheered for everyone like a crazy man throughout. Randy, always downplaying his ability and his training, rocked a sub 7:30 finish. The post race grub was good, and it was fun to get in a nice post-run soak in Timothy Lake with new friends from Idaho and a birthday boy from Sisters.  Add in a chiropractic adjustment from some chiropractic students there to offer their services (which helped to get some ribs knocked back in place that have been bugging me for months) and the post-run celebration was perfect.  Todd and his merry group of volunteers put on a great race--I expect that this one will grow in popularity again. 

Roomie Jason and I after our post-run lake soak.  Feeling refreshed and smiley. 

Post run, I didn't have much soreness except for an exhausted right hip flexor.  My left foot continues to have some weirdness in the flexor something something muscle, but it's more of an irritation than an issue. All was good until Tuesday night, when I crashed hard twice on a FP run, which has resulted in a lighter week than desired.  Just a bit of bruising to my pride, more than anything, although my right knee is a wee bit bruised and irritated.  Crashing is so incredibly frustrating. I'm hoping to hit it hard next week before a brief taper into the Waldo 100K the following.  After that, I have absolutely no plans.  I've been looking to sign up for something, but I have no idea as to what that will be.  Suggestions?

3 Non Joggers Guest Appearance, Take 2

If you're bored at work, or in the car, or on a run, or in general, take a listen to last Friday's guest appearance on 3 Non Joggers.

http://www.3nonjoggers.com/2011/07/its-38-were-bunch-of-little-angels.html

I haven't actually listened to the episode yet, because I hate the sound of my own voice, and haven't yet brought myself to remind myself just how awful it is.  Maybe it's not so bad, it just doesn't sound anything like that voice in my head.  This was my second visit to the show, and my first time in the new recording studio.  I have to say I was more nervous this time, as the new studio has a different feel--maybe just a little bit more professional, but I have to say I missed Russ' dingy basement.  Or maybe I just needed a bigger glass of whiskey to get through the show.

Update: I listened and it wasn't bad! Yes, my voice is still annoying, but less so than I remembered.  In all honesty, while I slightly dissed the basement above, I could hang out and listen to these 3 guys banter back and forth for hours--it's a good thing that there's about 6 feet of table separating Carl and Gary--well, probably Gary and Russ, too.  

WS100 2011: Looking foward to 2012!

Lots of good memories from this one, and pictures speak louder than words (especially when they include really long captions), so I'm including more than a few below. To sum it up, I LOVED WS.  I didn't think I would, but it was a super fun weekend and I can't wait to go back next year.  That's the short version.  The long version follows:  

Sister and I before the start. Having Lisa there for the entire weekend meant the world to me. 

Prerace:
The week started off with a nice chill drive down from Portland with Todd, crew chief and pacer extraordinaire. We opted for the scenic eastern route full of wide open spaces. Being technologically challenged, I have no good means to listen to music in my car besides the radio and CDs, and there were only 4 CDs in my car, one of which is the Chipmunks Christmas Album.  Needless to say, there were really only 3 that were considered as options, and we proceeded to listen to a Dixie Chicks CD more than 8 times.  Fitting lyrics, although I think they aren't talking about actual running:

Ready, ready, ready, ready...ready to run

All I'm ready to do is have some fun

I'm ready to run
I'm ready to run
I'm ready to run
I'm ready to run...ready to run...
ready to run...yeah I'm ready to run. I'm ready
Whoa I'm ready to run...I'm ready...I'm ready to run...
I'm ready to run...I'm ready
Oh I'm ready to run..I'm ready. 

Needless to say, Todd is one of the most patient guys I know, because he said very little about the repeating CD, and left me in charge. By the time we got to Squaw Valley on Wednesday night, we were ready to do anything besides sit in a car and listen to the Dixie Chicks reinforce over and over that we were ready to run.  

Ellie and I at check-in on Friday.  Ellie and I got to spend most of Thursday together practicing our uphill running form and smearing ourselves with mud.  I predicted that Ellie would take this one, and was super excited to finish and hear about her second-half comeback. 

Thursday was spent at a photo shoot with Ellie and Max.  The photographer, Kevin Winzeler, takes some amazing photos, so I'm excited to see what comes out of this.  Never having been part of a photo shoot before, I have to say it was pretty awesome, although after 10+ hours, we were all ready to get out of the sun and stop the wind sprints.

Even better than the photo shoot was the arrival of my sister on Thursday. My sister and I are very close, but she hasn't seen me race since high school, when she was disgusted by my dry heaving before the start at track meets, and stopped going to watch, or something to that effect. She also used to claim to hate running, but has started running over the last couple of years, and has become a runner. It's been fun to watch her get into it, and to share this with her. At some point a couple of weeks before the race, I decided that I needed my sister there to be a part of it, and when it all worked out and she was able to come, I was thrilled to have her get to share in the experience. She was thrilled, too, and is much more expressive and emotive than I, so it was fun to watch her reaction to the entire weekend.  The only bummer to the snow route, was that crew didn't have access until mile 55, and my crew opted to meet me at Foresthill (mile 62), just to be on the safe side, as Todd was jumping in with me there, so she wouldn't get to experience quite as much of the race as normal.

Thursday night was a chance to get to hang out with everyone for dinner at the Montrail house, and was a great chance to relax and kick back before the pre-race festivities on Friday.

Top 10 from last year and MUC qualifiers at the pre-race meeting.
Always a strong field, this year's was no exception. Photo by Jack Meyer.

All of the pre-race hype that I thought I was going to hate, I didn't mind and actually kind of enjoyed.  I had experienced the pre-race scene (check-in, meeting) last year when I paced Annette, and knew what to expect, so it didn't surprise me and I didn't feel as nervous as usual. While anxious to get  the race started, I didn't have any feelings of dread or attempts to injure myself to avoid running. It was a nice day for hanging out outside and running into friends, and all ended too soon.  After a nice dinner with crew and new roomie, Jason, in Truckee, I went to bed feeling ready to go. I had just fallen asleep when I heard a beep from my phone: a fellow ultra runner texting me to ask, "U running WS?" Seriously? At 10 p.m. the night before WS? Lesson learned: buy an alarm clock that is not my phone.

Part of Team Montrail before the start.  I hadn't spent much time with either Jill or Joelle before WS, and staying at the Montrail house, really enjoyed getting to know both of them.  

The race:

I wasn't as nervous as I normally get before races, and the start was far less traumatic than I had imagined. I took the climb up to Escarpment pretty easy, running with Rory for some of it, but well behind the lead pack. I really wasn't concerned about how everyone else was doing, and was not focused on racing, but just running my own race. I'll admit I had an interest in where Pam was, because she was ahead of me by a couple of points in the Montrail Ultra Cup, and our finish places and times would determine who got second place vs. third, but besides that I was pretty happy to do my own thing. As we reached the top of the climb and turned onto the snow, I slowed considerably and passed no one while getting passed by many.

The snow sucked.  I've heard some people say it was fun.  I can honestly say I thought it sucked.  For me, it was impossible to get in a rhythm and each time I thought I was getting the groove of it, I'd crash or slip. I will admit that I did absolutely no snow training, although even if I had, I don't think it would have helped much for the snow running at WS, as I hadn't expected the hard-pack that we ran across. Much of it was at a significant camber, and was frozen solid, which made for poor traction. My balance, in general, is not stellar, and this section definitely highlighted this.  

The snow running was more difficult than this section implies, with much of it at an angle, and frozen solid. I did not enjoy the snow section, as grace and balance are not my strengths, and I hadn't run in snow at all in preparation (and when I do run in snow, I typically wear screwed shoes or yaktrax so as not to fall and break a leg).  The gloves helped a ton, as I fell a few times, and had to claw myself along on other occasions.  Photo by Gary Wang.

I was very happy to get off the snow and onto the easy downhill running after the mile 15 aid station.  I passed Pam at the aid station, and soon passed Sandi Nypaver, and somewhere in this section started going back and forth with Becky Wheeler and eventually passed her for good (although not by much).  I had no idea what place we were in and didn't ask. I thought I heard someone say 7th at or around Mosquito Ridge AS, but I had music on at the time, so she must have said something else, because I was in 11th at Devil's Thumb and had only been moving up. I didn't feel bad, and didn't feel like I was pushing too hard, although I was struggling and slow on the climbs.  I'd pass people going down, but get passed back going up. I guess that's what zero uphill training will get you. Luckily WS is a net downhill course, and being a strong downhill runner seems to help more than being a strong uphill runner (although if you're doing both well, you're obviously going to do best). And I would wager that if you're not in top shape, you can't fake your way up a climb, but you can fake your way downhill.  If that makes any sense?  In general, I felt like I was moving well once we got off the snow until we got to the canyons, as long as we weren't heading up.

It's always nice to see Glenn's smiling face out on the course.   Photo by Glenn Tachiyama.

My stomach was a bit queasy from the start. Not bad, but such that shot blocks went down much better if I macerated them a bit before swallowing, and the thought of swallowing them whole made me want to gag a bit.  And gels were taking me several minutes to get down. I started drinking Gu2O early on because I knew my calorie consumption was less than optimal. I downed a bottle of Ultragen at Mosquito Ridge (mile 31), but besides that, lived on Gu and Gu2O, which was the aid station fare, and a couple of PB&J quarters. The flavor selections for Gu were limited, and by the end of the day, the thought of another strawberry-banana Gu was bad enough to cause an avoidance response. The gear life saver of the day was my arts and crafts project from Friday afternoon: a bandana sewed into a triangle (with openings) so that I could fill it with ice and tie it around my neck. I started filling it with ice early, and used it for much of the day.  I realize that this wasn't a hot year, but even with some heat training in South Sudan and sauna sessions, it was a hot day for an Oregonian.

I guess I'm a heel striker.  And several people made comments about my hair, and wondered how I carried it for 100 miles. Um, well,  I guess I have strong neck muscles? Someone found me at some point during the weekend by "looking for the girl with the big hair."  I didn't find that very descriptive, but they found me, so maybe it was. (Note the arts and crafts project tied around my neck.) Photo by Glenn Tachiyama.

Initially, I had hoped to spend some time training on the course. But Memorial Day was spent in Africa at Comrades, and my course knowledge came from a quick read of the course description and elevation profile.  In a moment of pre-race panic, I went back to the course description Friday night while lying in bed, but the elevation profile and description led me to believe the canyons were flat. Canyons are never flat, and neither were these; selective reading, I supposed.  Both the climb to Devil's Thumb (47.8) and the climb to Michigan Bluff (55.7) kicked my ass. I was fine on both long downhills into the canyons passing a few people, but the guys I passed going down hiked by me like I was standing still going up. Somewhere after Devil's Thumb, I passed Helen going down into the second canyon to move into 10th and was surprised she didn't pass back as I crawled up out of the canyon into Michigan Bluff. 10th was the last position I wanted to be running in at any point in the second half of the race as top 10 has special significance at WS, but it was where I ended up at mile 50. I was hot, dizzy and hating life as I slogged into the aid station, where I snapped at a couple of friends, and slogged onward.

I felt like death here, coming into Michigan Bluff.  I was weaving a bit on the climb coming out of the canyons and thought this was the beginning of the end. I had a miraculous recovery which I credit to a quarter of a PB&J sandwich and cruised into Foresthill feeling like a rock star.  Photo by Jonathan Bernard.

The highs and lows that come in a 100 miler are predictable, yet always surprising. I'd felt like hell just a few miles back, but I loved the section into Foresthill and was suddenly cruising.  The snacks I'd grabbed at Michigan Bluff seemed to kick in (a piece of PB&J), and I felt awesome. The only downside was that the sweet guy that had filled my bladder at Michigan Bluff had only gotten it partially closed and I was drenched in Gu2O, which was causing the backs of my calf to stick to my hamstring. A clumsy creek crossing left me flat on my back in the creek, but I was once again clean, refreshed, and running most of the way into the Bath Road AS (60.6). I walked and chatted with someone up parts of Bath Road, but felt the urge to run and took off, cruising into Foresthill (62) like I was running a 5K (or so it felt at the time) and super excited to pick up my pacer, Todd, and check in on how my sister was enjoying her day. 

After a pack change, Todd and I were on our way and moved well for the majority of the 16 mile run down to the river crossing. I'd been going back and forth with Joe Kulak all day, and we continued to leap frog. It was nice to get an update on the race, because the lack of crew access had left us without any race updates up until this point. I was bummed to hear that Ellie wasn't in front, and surprised by the men's updates. I also inquired about Pam, but being that she was behind me and that updates had been spotty, didn't have any real idea of where she was.  I used that as motivation throughout the second half--an extra thousand bucks = weekend in Hawaii. Maybe it's sad, but a little extra cash really does motivate. 

My only real issues through this section were my feet, but I had opted to not change shoes at Foresthill, after deciding that it was best that I not see my feet.  I've often imagined my feet to be trashed, only to discover when I take off my shoes that they're not that bad.  That's what I decided was happening, and if they were truly trashed, there was nothing I wanted to spend time doing about it at this point. I avoid sitting, in general, in 100s, and shoe changes are slow and seated.  I was still moving well on the downs, and felt like I was hiking quickly when hiking. I was happy to move into 9th just before the river crossing, although bummed to pass Anita, who looked like she was in some pain, and struggling.  

I'd been looking forward to the river crossing all day, but for me, sitting down is generally a bad idea during 100s.  The high I'd felt at Foresthill had been slowly fading since then, and was now suddenly gone and I was at my third lowest point of the day (1. Michigan Bluff, 2. Snow). I felt sluggish getting out of the boat, but happy to see my sister's smiling face on the other side of the river. She seemed to be having a blast, and I'd be seeing her again at the Hwy 49 crossing where she would get to run trails for the first time in her life with me, at night!  Yes, I have to admit it made me ever so slightly nervous, but also excited to get to run the last 6.5 miles with my sister. At Green Gate (79.8), we stopped briefly to talk to Joelle, who was dropping there. Another bummer, as I'd gotten to spend some time with Joelle, as we were staying at the Montrail house, and she is a super person, and I was hoping she'd have a breakthrough 100-miler.  I didn't run much of the climb to Green Gate, and apologized to Todd, but it was time for the music to come back on, once we were past the aid station. I rarely listen to music while running, and really only reserve it for racing, but it definitely helps me. Whenever I would turn it off to talk to Todd, I would slow down, but when I switched it back on and found the right song (2 favorites linked there), I was cruising again (cruising, in an "85-miles-into-a-hundred" type of cruising).  

I'm kind of a pain-in-the-ass to pace, and I should have explained this to Todd pre-race, and explained what he should actually insist upon, because during the race, I will say no to everything and anything. Todd would kindly make a suggestion, and I'd shoot him down.  

Todd: "Shotblocks?"  

Amy: "Shut up. Don't ever say that again" (The thought of shot blocks at that point brought a gag response--for me they're really hard to swallow late in a 100 miler).

Todd: "Would you like me to run in front?"

Amy: "Never."

Todd: "Would you like me to remind you to eat?"

Amy: "No."

While Todd remained good spirited throughout, I think he was happy to pass me off to my sister at mile 93.5.  And I have to say, I was psyched to see Sister!  I can't say that I focused on pushing the pace much in the last stretch, but I did enjoy chatting and running with Lisa, and enjoyed her reaction to running downhill on a trail at night.  Behind me, I could hear her ask , "How do you do this?" Luckily she was a trooper, and figured it out on her own, because I was too tired to turn around and just kept going. No Hands Bridge was a welcome site and soon after the climb to Robie Point, which seemed to last forever, and the top of the hill happened much later than I expected.  We finally hit the downhill and made it to the track, and to the finish. 100.2 in 19:36.22, 8th female, 34th overall.

Sister looks way more chipper than me at this point.  I have to say I was slightly grumpy heading down from Robie Point, but Lisa took it in stride. Lisa had never run on trails, let alone at night on trails. In addition to Lisa's first marathon, I'm looking forward to Lisa's first trail race, to be followed soon after with Lisa's first ultra. She had a great time, and having  her there really made the weekend for me. Her constant amazement at how cool the ultra community is, was a reminder of  how lucky we all are; we do have a pretty cool community. She was smiling like this the entire weekend! Photo by Glenn Tachiyama.

Happier here, as I begin to grasp that I'm done--woohoo!  WS in the books in 19:36, 8th female.
Photo by Glenn Tachiyama.

Of note:

My sister!  It was one of those special sister-bonding weekends that neither of us will forget.  And my sister seems to be hooked on this running thing, because she's since signed up for her first marathon--Portland on October 9th! Go Sister!

Todd is an awesome friend/crew/pacer. He claims to have enjoyed it, but I promise to be nicer next year.

4 Oregon women in the top 10.  How sweet is that?  And the top 3 places in the Montrail Ultra Cup on the women's side went to Oregon, along with 2 of the top 3 for men.  An additional $11,000 into the Oregon economy this year--sweet!

Montrail/Mountain Hardwear made it easy for all of us on the team, arranging for a house. I really enjoyed getting to meet and hang out with teammates in a relaxed environment.  Thanks, Jessie!

There's nothing like a little Split Lip Rayfield and Scroat Belly to get me through the rough spots. Works every time.

Muscle memory, experience, and mental toughness seem to be a big part of success in100 milers.  I went in on the low end of the mileage spectrum, and ran well, despite the hiccups in my training in April through June.  Looking back at my training log, I averaged 52.5 miles/week since January 1.  Calculating from April 1, that average drops to 45 miles/week in the 12 weeks prior to WS.  If you'd asked me in February what my training plan would look like, I would have told you that I would try to hit a 75 mile/week average, with top mileage weeks topping out around 90-100 and lower mileage weeks in the 60s.  Unfortunately life gets in the way sometimes--injuries, work trips, trashed quads from racing, etc. and that just didn't happen.  At the same time, I went into WS with absolutely no pressure on me.

My biggest fear was that my quads would get trashed and that it would at some point turn into a death march.  That never happened and my quads stayed strong until the end.  I only began to feel them the last 15 miles or so, and they weren't that bad.  I was sore until Tuesday, but could have run again much sooner than after Miwok, although opted to wait until Friday.  Admittedly, my quads, while not sore, felt like bricks on Friday, but on a run on Sunday, felt surprisingly good.  My quads survived, and for this, I am puzzled.  I'd done inadequate uphill and downhill training, and relatively few long runs. My quads have fared much worse in runs for which I've felt better prepared.

I'm happy with my time, but I certainly had some left at the end. Regardless, my finish place wouldn't have changed had I been a bit more motivated to push in those last 20 miles and had finished 15 minutes or so faster, as Meghan was a good 45 minutes ahead of me.

I get to go back next year!  I have to say, I didn't think I was going to like Western States, but I loved it.  I can't wait to go back next year better trained--ready to run it more aggressively and knock out an 18:XX.  Todd and Lisa--reserve the date!!

Top 10!!  Feels good to have an open invite to go back for another try!

Training is Over-rated? A precursor to a WS report.

I'll post a full race report soon, but in the meantime, I'm recovering surprisingly well. As I bemoaned in previous blog posts, I was nowhere close to the shape I had hoped to be in when I toed the line on Saturday for Western States. The spring brought injury, that led to a racing schedule that left no time for training, and a work travel schedule that left no time for the Gorge hill training I had intended to tackle. I feared quad death, especially after a 25K 2 weeks prior followed by some hill repeats the next morning left my quads incredibly sore. My quads had been toast well before the half-way point at Miwok; I couldn't run for a week afterwards and didn't feel good running for 2 weeks. The calf injury-Miwok-Comrades-WS cycle left no time for a solid training block. It was race, recover, taper, race, repeat.  A net downhill hundred was sure to bring pain and misery....

Good news--my quads survived, and survived shockingly well.  I only started to feel them around mile 85, and I never got to the point where it hurt to run downhill. Now, 3 days later, I feel like I could run without much soreness. I'm not going to, as I plan to give myself a few more days of laziness and over-eating, but if I were chased, I could run, and do so without much hesitation. Some toenails have opted out, but other than a few blisters on the balls of my feet that are healing nicely, and a sore nose from a post-run car loading incident, I'm relatively unscathed.

I'm thrilled with F8 and 19:36 based on my training and also very happy to finish #2 in the Montrail Ultra Cup with a $2000 cash bonus. I'll post more on all of that later.

The top 4 Montrail Ultra Cup finishers:  Meghan, me, Pam and Gretchen.
Meghan is rubbing her belly and thinking of food.
Pam is thinking about how she is going to crush me the next time we race.
I'm more than a little bit scared of Pam, for good reason (I love you, Pam!).
(Photo taken from Gretchen's blog ).

WS Training Camp: Juba Version (or, "Currently in the worst shape of my life")...)

Maybe not the worst, but I'm definitely not in the shape I had hoped to be at this time, 3 weeks out from Western States.  It all started with a calf strain in early April, which left me unable to run much up through Miwok.  The 5-week training lull left me a bit flat at Miwok, and far off of what I'd hoped for, and trashed my quads for a good 2 weeks.  Comrades was just 3 weeks after Miwok, so throw in 2 weeks of forced recovery, followed by jumping on a plane to Kenya the weekend before Comrades, and I went into Comrades with no solid training, considering I'd gone into Miwok with no solid training.  Comrades left me far less trashed than Miwok, but I flew to Juba, South Sudan the day after Comrades, which is where I am now.

Traditional style house known as a "tukul" as seen on the Hash run.

Offshoot of the Nile in Juba, South Sudan.

I've mentioned before that I love to run on the road (as in during my travels, not actually on tarmac), and I do.  I travel to interesting places, and running in these places allows me to see bits and pieces I wouldn't see if I didn't run.  Take yesterday, for instance: I went to the Hash and the route took us along the Nile on a dirt path through a "neighborhood" and then through a local market.  Cute little kids popping out in all directions, strange sights and smells from the market, and lots of odd looks.  I don't Hash in the states, because I don't see the point, but on the road, it's one way to potentially meet other runners, and an opportunity to run in a place you wouldn't get to otherwise.  I ended up in front with a German guy who commented, "So, it seems you've run before?"  Um, yep, now and again.

Another tukul.

Entering the market.  

On my own, I've been running on the hot dusty streets of Juba, often towards the UNMIS compound (UN Mission in Sudan) which is an odd world in its own right.  I guess I don't appear dangerous in my short shorts and running shoes (or there would be nowhere to conceal a bomb under my tank top and shorts), because when I stopped to inquire at the gate what ID was required, they waved me in despite the fact that I had no ID on me, bypassing the metal detectors and screening process.  Inside there were lots of trailer home-type living accommodations, Bangladeshi troops doing jumping jacks, a gift bull sitting in the middle of the "track" that was received by someone important on a trip which then couldn't be taken on the airplane (go figure), and other odd sights.  But, a place to run with fewer stares, and fascinating in its own right. Today I found the "cafeteria" and an ice-cold sprite, which cooled and fueled me for the 20 minutes home.  I managed only an hour in the heat, and arrived home exhausted and dizzy.  The fact that I made it only an hour, and wanted to collapse, has me worried, and further convinced I'm in the worst shape of my life. Yes, the run was in the heat of the day, but it was only 95 here today, and an hour really shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

While I like to run on the road, I find training on the road difficult.  Going out for a run is not a challenge, but in planning a longer runs or sticking to a set workout, there seem to be more variables that come into play, and an unhappy stomach is one of these things (and my biggest downfall at Comrades).  I used to have a stomach of steel; I drank water directly from a cow pond for 2 years in Peace Corps and had zero problems.  Maybe Africa just doesn't agree with my stomach or old age is setting in, but in my recent travels, I find myself with stomach issues more often than not. I averted a disaster at UNMIS the other day when I lucked upon a bathroom in the UN airport.  I think I breached security to get in there, but I was desperate. And when desperate I can be quite resourceful.  So, runs bring a sense of impending doom, knowing that I could very well end up squatting behind someone's house.  Would you want someone squatting behind your house?  If I was here long enough, I might figure out where I might find the basic necessities, but thus far, I'm a stranger running in a strange land, with an intense fear of emergency bathroom stops.

At this point, there's nothing I can do about my less-than-ideal training for WS.  I'll be in Juba another week, arriving back in Portland next Saturday around noon.  I'll continue my hour-long slogs in hot and steamy Juba for the next week, and then plan to hit the gorge next weekend for a couple of long hill sessions in a final desperate attempt at training.  And, I'll hope to show up at the starting line, relatively healthy, malaria- and amoeba-free, tan (it's sunny here in Juba), skinnier (the joys of stomach parasites), and absurdly well-rested, after my 3-month taper, but still hoping for a top-10 finish.  

Comrades Marathon and The Starfish Greathearts Foundation

I am super excited to be running Comrades in 2 short weeks--20,000 runners and incredible crowd support in a setting that will be like no other ultra I will ever run. It was a last minute addition to my schedule after I figured out (or a friend pointed out) that I would be in Africa for work around the time of Comrades.  Obviously Africa is a large place and my work is nowhere near Durban, South Africa where the race starts, but the fact that I was even going to be on the same continent when it was happening--I knew that I needed to try to run it.  Luckily, the stars aligned, I figured out the logistics, and then re-figured the logistics when work dates changed, and it is going to happen.  I'll be in Kenya for a week for a conference, then will fly to Durban for a "long" weekend (10 p.m. Friday night through 7 a.m. Monday morning--race is on Sunday) and then head to Juba, South Sudan for 2 more weeks of work.  I'll get home from Juba 2 weeks from Western States.  My plan is to land in PDX at 10 a.m. Saturday morning after 28+ hours of travel, and cram in 2 last long runs before starting a shortened version of a taper.  Good times!  Have I mentioned how much I love traveling for work?  Seriously though, I can't complain.  Sudan is going to be a fascinating adventure, as well--let's just hope I can find a treadmill.  I have yet to not find one...

Anyhow, now that the logistics have all been worked out--flights booked, hotels reserved, entry confirmed, and calf injury behind me, I'm finally confident that Comrades is really going to happen.

And to my loyal blog readers I'd like to request that you visit the following link and consider donating to the Starfish Greathearts Foundation that works with children orphaned by HIV/AIDS in South Africa.  It's a great cause, and I hope that with the support of family and friends, I'll be able to give a small amount back to the communities that surround and support the Comrades Marathon.  While I sometimes do complain about work travel, I'm also incredibly grateful for the opportunities that I have, and the chance to see and experience the all of the amazing diversity and contrasts that exist around the world and work with communities that are far less fortunate.  And in the hopes of making a difference where it's most needed, I ask you to give a little if you can.

A link to my fundraising page is found here.  Thanks!

10:02:41, again.

Heading up from the beach on the second big climb. (photo by Brett Rivers)

I am not a superstitious person, but I do like to paint my toenails bright red and pink and sparkly, consume gnocchi in the days prior, and wear my lucky red undies the day before any race.  So, I could tell the Miwok weekend was off to a shaky start, when in unloading the car in Ashland on Thursday night post cinco de mayo margaritas, my lucky undies mysteriously vanished. They were in my hand, and then they were gone. I looked in the trunk, on the road, on the sidewalk, etc, but they were nowhere to be found. Sean was drunk--did he take them? Could I even justify running on Saturday?  Luckily for me, Darla came to the rescue on Friday morning, when while taking in the lovely landscaping found them under the neighbor's fence. That would have been fun for someone to explain. Regardless, while I had been questioning for weeks whether or not I should run Miwok because of a calf strain, I could not back out on the grounds of losing my lucky undies.

I went into Miwok with few expectations.  My 5 week training leading up to Miwok looked something like this:

April 3: calf strain
5 weeks out: 22 miles
4 weeks out: 5 miles (re-strain)
3 weeks out: 30 miles
2 weeks out: 54 miles (including 22 and 10 milers the weekend prior)
1 week out: 12 miles

I don't know what your training log looks like, but averaging one-third of my usual mileage is not what I hope to be doing 5 weeks out from a big 100K, and during what would be my big training push for Western States.  I did do more than just lame attempts at running during those 5 weeks, with a bit of spinning and walking, and bikram yoga 3-5 times/week.  I also saw my massage guy twice a week, as he worked out the issues in my calf.  But, one can not run a 100K on massage and bikram yoga alone, and my training log might have implied that a fast 100K was not in the cards.  The miles I did run were purposefully slow and flat, as I had re-strained my calf early on during an attempt to run uphill, so I had avoided all hill running until a couple of trial runs 2 weeks out--one of which was a hilly 8-miler, and the other, a hilly 22-miler the Saturday prior.  The 22-miler left me confident that my calf was on the mend and could handle hills.

My goals for Miwok were simple. First, to survive with calf intact, and second, to finish. Deep down I hoped that the 5-week taper was going to be the new hot training plan and demonstrate that training was truly over-rated, but I kind of knew that was a long shot.  I also needed to finish if I wanted to stay in the running for top-3 in the Montrail Cup, as Miwok would be my 3rd race in the series, with Western States my fourth, and four races score.  If I didn't finish, I couldn't score 4 races.  There is a small cash incentive hidden in there, which could equate to a long weekend in Hawaii if I get top-3. I also needed this long run as training for both Comrades and Western. A little close to Comrades, which is a little close to Western, but at this point, I'm out of shape and trying to get back into shape in 7 weeks.  Throw in 3 weeks in Africa for work (including a side trip to run Comrades) in a destination where running is potentially dangerous, and my Western training is pretty much screwed. Alas, I digress....

Last year I finished Miwok 4th in 10:02:41.  I had been gradually building back from a long lay-off due to a torn ankle tendon--my first real injury since college (it sounds like I'm always injured these days, but really, I've been pretty healthy for 25 years of running!), but had been running consistently leading up to Miwok. It was also my first big west coast race since moving out to Oregon, and I went in a bit starstruck, and nervous to be running with the big dogs. I ended up finishing between Krissy Moehl and Darcy Africa and was happy to finish between 2 ultra running stars I'd always admired.

Rather than go through a blow-by-blow of this year's version, let's just say I wasn't feeling great for most of the race.  My hamstrings were tight for the first 15, and my quads were trashed before we even got to the descent down into the turn-around at Randall.  If there is one lesson I learned from the 5-week forced taper, it's that while fitness doesn't fall off too much, quads seem to forget all downhill memory quickly.  I plodded through the first half, and was a little shocked when I wasn't that far behind heading into Randall.  However, my quads were already trashed, and weren't in any shape to make up any ground in the second half. Luckily, I didn't lose much ground either, except to some guys like Jimmy Dean and his training buddy Lukas, who both smoked the second half.  I had passed Helen at the turn down into Randall around mile 32 to move into 4th, and I managed to hold onto 4th until the finish. I was running, for the most part, but walking inclines I should have been running. My mantra for the second half hills was, "Me walk Miwok."  I need to work on a more positive mantra for next time....

I finished 4th in 10:02:41--the EXACT same time and place as last year.  Bizarre, no?  Last year I was happy with my run, and I should be ecstatic to have run the same time this year with my calf still intact considering the past month, but I can't say that I feel happy about the race. Instead, I mainly still feel frustrated.  Frustrated for where I am right now, and for what is coming up.  It's like cramming for a final exam, which you have a sneaking suspicion you could fail at miserably. 

On a more positive note, I was super excited to see Pam in the lead coming out of the turn-around and to hear at the finish that she'd run a strong second half for the win. It's great to see Pam win a big one, and get some of the credit she is due. And with Meghan in second, Oregon took 3 of the top 4 spots on the women's side--not too shabby.  Also, many thanks to Jimmy Dean for his kind words on course.  Most runners are friendly and positive while out there, but Jimmy went above and beyond and was a super positive influence out there. I was psyched to see him kill the second half of the course and finish well under his 10 hour goal. I just wish I'd had it in me to go with him.  Also thanks to my pacer, Sean, for putting up with grumpy Amy. And to the Oregon driving crew--Chris, Darla and Sean--for making the weekend a fun and memorable one. I'd rather drive the 11 hours with you all than fly any day--seriously. I'm looking forward to many more fun weekend adventures in the coming months. 

Next year I'd really like to run Miwok and kill it.  Screw 10:02:41.