Photos from the Sun Mountain 50 Miler

Some photos (taken by Matt Hagen 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....)

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 shorts 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 MHW Fluid Race Vest, 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.

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.

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.

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!

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 Bryan Mullaney, another training buddy from Portland who also finished strong in his first 50 miler.  

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!

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. 

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.

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.  

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.

This is the course profile as listed on the Sun Mountain website. 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.

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 (Blackberry Bushes Stringband).  Photo by Joseph Tompkins.
Check out all of Rainshadow Running events on their website.  Highly recommended! Low key vibe, beautiful courses.

Gold!! Wait....did that really just happen?

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.

Meghan and I on the balcony at La Montanina.

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.

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!

La Montanina in the rain. The sun finally popped out on Friday for some spectacular views.

The mountains behind our hotel getting some late afternoon sun.

Sunset a short walk from our lodge. Alps in the background and Lake Como below. Not a bad place to hang out pre-race.

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.

Team Oregon (Cassie, Meghan, me and Pam).  

Team USA at the parade. 

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.

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.

--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.--

Meghan and I somewhere on Lap 1 or 2.  Photo by Raymond Pretat.

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.

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.

In stride early on. Photo by Raymond Pretat.

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.

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!

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.

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.

Is this picture real?  How did this happen?

Team USA singing proudly.

Team Montrail (Annette, me and Sean) at the awards ceremony.

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.

Top 25 100K times by North American residents. (!!)

There has been some nice press on the race, and here are links to: iRunFar, Runner's World, Running Times, USATF, IAU, ClifBar, and the Daily Review Atlas (hometown paper).

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).

Pierre is becoming a very well-traveled prairie dog.  Photo by Darryl Schaffer.

Easing back into it....

It's hard to define "easing" when you were actually in decent shape before you were out of it, and I was only out of it a few days, so I defined "easing" liberally.  That is, after getting word from my new doc on Tuesday afternoon that I could test it out with a 15-30 minute light run and then ease my way back into training (letting pain be my guide), I ended up logging 50 miles for the week.  Obviously not a huge week mileage-wise, but a heck of a lot more than I thought I'd be doing being that I'd been lounging around in the hospital up through Sunday afternoon and my previous doc had told me no activity for at least several weeks. So, this is what the two weeks post DVT/PE looked like....

Sunday: discharged from hospital.  Funny that I wanted them to keep me longer, but I finally got a male nurse on the last day and he was cute (that wasn't really why I wanted to stay, but I was nervous about leaving the hospital because I'd been in a serious amount of pain up through Sunday morning and was worried about another painful bout).  I was not yet breathing normally and couldn't talk without stopping to take breaths mid-sentence, but the calf pain from the prior week had pretty much disappeared and I could walk without pain, probably because some of the clots from my calf ended up in the outer reaches of my lungs.

M: 1.5 mile walk; still breathing funny (labored, I guess you'd call it)
T: cleared by doctor to ease back into running and 15 minutes later did a 2 mile run, 4 mile walk
W: 4 mile run, 2 mile walk
Th: 6 mile run
F: 8 mile 2% downhill run on treadmill working down to 6:40 pace (progression run of sorts).
Sa: 11.5 miles on trail in Forest Park
Su: 12 miles easy w/ Meghan on trails in FP

weekly total = 50 miles (I counted the initial walking miles as they were part of easing back in...)

M: 8 mile progression run working down to last 2 miles @ 6:00 pace
T: calf felt tweaky for the first time in a week, so went easy with a 6 mile run
W: 8 miles; hard effort (Terwilliger hills)
Th: 11 miles moderate
F: 4 miles easy and 5 miles treadmill (90 degree heat, 40%, 2% uphill grade)
Sa: 12 miles (2 treadmill sessions, same heat, same grade)
Su: 25 miles @ slightly faster than race pace (7:25 average)

weekly total = 79 miles (lots of quality/up-tempo miles....feeling better about Italy)

In my third week post-PE, I'm planning to hit just over 80 this week, and then will begin a two-week taper into Worlds on April 22.  In the meantime, I'll avoid running with scissors or banging my head on a rock, but I'm feeling pretty OK in general. Training hasn't been ideal, but it never is. If anything, I got a 5-day extreme rest period with my hospital staycation.  My calf feels normal, my lungs have no further issues, and I met with a hematologist yesterday who said the more active the better and had no issues with me either: 1) flying in 2 weeks, or 2) running 100K.  Amazing the differences in medical opinions out there, but I like both my new primary care guy and the blood man because they give good advice (a.k.a. the advice I want to hear).

I've had some difficulty getting my INR level (what the blood thinners affect) to stabilize where they want it (a normal person is at 1, on blood thinners they try to get you between 2 and 3), but as my friendly anti-coagulation clinicians have mentioned, they don't typically work on people like me, and things like exercise and a healthy diet affect the dosing. We're getting it figured out and it'll all be over soon enough, as the blood man thinks that 3 months on thinners could be sufficient.

So, Italy is 100% on.  Now for the 2-week starvation diet if I plan to break out the bunhuggers. One of the issues of so many doctor visits over the past few weeks is that I know exactly how much I weigh, which is information I usually happily avoid and which does not encourage me to expose anyone to my butt in huggers.

Below is a locally-made video of the course in Italy.  Warning, you may get slightly nauseous while watching from the camera motion, and you may get a song stuck in your head (and the tree car-freshener adds that extra touch to the video). Seems like an interesting course, with a fair share of alleys, parking lots, tight turns, rough road, parks, and a fairly diverse environment overall. It's a 20K loop, so we get to do it 5 times, which is better than 10!

A Public Service Announcement: Endurance Athletes, Air Travel, and DVTs

I've flown internationally probably 100 times in the last 20 years. That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I've been to around 35 countries, most of which I entered by plane travel, and many of those I've visited multiple times. Regardless of the number, I am not new to flying, and not new to flying half way around the world. But somehow I missed the memo on the risk of deep vein thrombosis (DVT) to me. I'm young (well, sort of), fit, and I guess, a bit naive.

If you want to read about my experience with DVT and then PE, please read the last 2 posts. As far as I know, this was my first experience with either. This was what is considered a provoked incident of DVT. That is, it was brought on by a long flight, and a couple of other factors (birth control, and I'd argue endurance athlete) that seem to increase the risk. It's fairly easy to look at the risk factors and see why it happened to me. I don't know if it's accurate to say that endurance athlete equals an increased risk, but if you do some googling of DVT and runners or endurance athletes and flying, you will quickly come across many different reports, stories, etc. that indicate that it is not uncommon in endurance athletes and a statistic on Airhealth.org states that 85% of air thrombosis victims are "athletic, usually endurance type athletes like marathoners."  I have no idea where this data comes form, but arguing the validity of the data isn't really the point of this post.  The point is to raise awareness that this seems not to be an uncommon problem amongst types like us, so to exercise caution when stagnant for long periods of time, like on long flights or long road trips. Kim, an ultrarunner from Ohio sent me the link to her blog where she talks about DVTs in runners and about two running friends with DVTs.  Some other blogs/articles that discuss DVT in athletes can be found here, but again, some quick googling will lead you to any number of related posts (past several words are hyperlinked to some examples).

I am typically a fairly active traveler. Assuming I'm on an airline I fly often, I always sit in an aisle seat so I can get up whenever I want (frequent flyer status often dictates what you're left with, but again, I fly overseas a lot so I generally have some level of elite status and get my preference), I carry on a water bottle, and fill it on the plane so that I can drink often and more than what those little plastic cups hold (also cuts back on use of plastic cups), I often wear compression socks (but not sleeves--try it or think about it and you'll understand why I don't, even though there are any number of websites recommending sleeves for travel, as well), I get up regularly (because I'm drinking a lot) and usually want to stretch my legs. However, I also tend to sleep easily on a plane, so it's not uncommon for me to fall asleep for long naps.

I've also done some really stupid things like when I flew to Nairobi the day after running the Pine to Palm 100.  Getting to Nairobi from Portland involves 2 or 3 flights, 2 of which are going to be 8+ hour flights. Definitely not fun after running a 100 miler, and looking back, probably a bit dangerous. But to date, I never have had another DVT incident that I can remember.

I've received a lot emails from ultra runners who have shared similar stories, great advice, how they dealt with DVT/PE, or tragic stories of friends who died from PE after DVT. Mine is definitely not an isolated incident, so I'd really just like to ask all of my ultra running friends to be careful out there.  Maybe everyone already knows about this seemingly increased risk to endurance athletes, but I didn't.  Had I known, I would have been more cautious. Again, I feel like I'm already fairly cautious, but not because I knew of the risk of DVT, more so because I get uncomfortable sitting still.

I can guarantee that I am going to become the traveler that everyone hates.  That person who is pacing the aisle, and getting up every 10 minutes to fidget. I encourage you all to do the same. I may need to leave a day earlier in the future on trips to destinations where multiple long flights are necessary, like any destination in Africa, either to have a rest day after two long flights, or a scheduled stopover in between long flights, because going forward, the thought of falling asleep for more than 30 minutes scares me. I will be that annoying chick with the alarm that is set to go off every 20 minutes.

And if you find yourself with DVT, there are a lot of scare campaigns out there associated with DVTs and PEs, being on blood thinners, and what you can and can't do with regards to aerobic activity. There is also no good data to support a doctor's advice to tell you to either jump back into it, or avoid activity, and because there is a risk of death associated with PE and no data to support either approach, many doctors seem to take the conservative approach and ask that you avoid activity for up to several weeks/months (that was my first doctor who scared the living bejesus out of me).

There's the issue of physical activity with DVTs and then there's the added fun of being on blood thinners (which is necessary to be active with DVTs). Luckily I'm not a mountain biker, because I definitely wouldn't be comfortable mountain biking on Warfarin, but am comfortable running. Heck, I never fall (obviously not true for anyone who knows me). While I do fall regularly, head trauma is the major concern with falling on thinners, and I can count the number of times on one finger when I've hit my head during a run. If I scrape my leg, I might bleed a little more, but assuming my INR level is where they want it to be (between 2 and 3), I won't bleed to death. There are warnings out there about using blood thinners that go so far to say "don't use toothpicks" and "use an electric razor." I've been assured, that unless I get my INR up to 7 or so, I'm not going to start spurting blood out of a hang nail.  I will have to be diligent about making sure my dosage is correct and that means twice a week visits to the anti-coagulation clinic at this point, although that will become less frequent in the coming week or two.

On a very positive note, I found a doctor I like, and one who works with athletes and has worked with other cases of DVT and athletes.  I'm back running (the past 3 days), and am easing my way back into it and hope to still be able to compete in Italy at Worlds on April 22nd. There's still not a 100% chance that is going to happen, but a few days ago, I would have told you I had about a 2% chance of competing, and now I'm optimistic that it's a possibility.

From DVT to PE

So, while DVTs are painful in their own right, the real fear with DVTs (deep vein thrombosis, see previous post) is that the clots in your legs will break free and travel to your lungs, known as a pulmonary embolism (PE) which, worst case scenario, can result in sudden death.

After being diagnosed with DVT on Wednesday after a mis-diagnosis on Tuesday (again, see previous post), I stayed home from work on Thursday, in part, because I wasn't feeling stellar, although much of the pain was in my leg, which doesn't exactly keep me from working at a computer. But I wanted to keep my leg elevated and this is easier done at home on the couch so I picked up my computer from work and half-heartedly worked from home. By Wednesday night it had become hard to walk normally, as I couldn't extend my heel to the floor.  My calf was a tight painful mess, and the painful area had spread quite a bit.

Why I really stayed home from work was that my eyes were puffy from crying, and I didn't want everyone to see me red-eyed at my desk all day.  I was still adjusting to the fact that I was probably going to have to back out of worlds and wasn't sure if I'd be fully back to normal.  Being put on blood thinners is not usually a short-term solution, and results in at least 6 months of medication, monitoring and taking precaution against things like crashing, which while training, can be part of my daily routine. And it goes far beyond running--having a clotting issue can be a life-changer in terms of hobbies and routine.  This wasn't a regular running injury and wasn't something I'd be able to cross-train through.

As I was lounging on the couch on Thursday afternoon I started having chest pains, although it was mild enough that I couldn't decide if it was imaginary, or maybe even heart burn. The signs of PE are chest pain and shortness of breath, and knowing that DVT can result in PE had me a bit paranoid. I woke up early Friday morning with more intense chest pain (enough so that I yelped in pain on at least one occasion).  Around 5 a.m. a DC friend texted, and I commented to her that I was laying in bed trying to decide whether or not to head to the ER.  The pain wasn't bad, and the ER seemed a bit extreme, but I also knew the sensations weren't normal, and I had just been diagnosed with DVT. I promised my friend I'd go to the ER, but figured I'd wait for my roommate to wake up and run it by him.  In the meantime, I washed my hair (because I figured if I was admitted to the hospital I wouldn't get to wash my hair for a few days), did some laundry, started to clean my room, ate a big breakfast, etc.  I couldn't decide if the the pain was serious, and at the same time started to worry about getting admitted to the hospital when my room was a disaster from not having unpacked after the previous two trips.  What if someone needed to go get clothes from my place and they saw the state of my bedroom?

I sort of knew I needed to go to the ER, but was hesitant to do so, so futzed around forever before committing to going.  Jason and Eryn finally started stirring, and when Erny heard my complaints, insisted that she take me.  I continued to dry my hair, call my doctor, email work and let them know that I was "probably crazy but stopping by the ER on my way into work," etc, and then drove around looking for parking forever in trying to decide what type of parking I needed--2 hour, all-day, etc.  There was no sense of urgency until I walked into the ER and muttered the words "slight chest pain." They had me on my back and coated in stickers in about 30 seconds.  I wanted to point out to them that there was no urgency, as it had taken me several hours to get there after the point I had first considered it a good idea.  An EKG, chest x-ray, and CT scan later, they determined that I wasn't going anywhere as I had pulmonary embolism, or blood clots hanging out in the outer reaches of my lungs. Because I had multiple clots on both sides of my lungs, they wanted to keep me to monitor things, which I was happy to agree to, as I was petrified about going home and being alone. I wasn't in much pain at this point, and had no idea of how bad it would get over the next 24 hours.

As fast and efficient as the ER was, I was checked into the hospital, and proceeded to wait for about 5 hours before my doctor saw me.  In that time I wasn't allowed to eat, and the pain went from about a 3 out of 10 to a 9.9 out of 10.  Apparently clots in the lung can be really painful.  Breathing hurt, as did any movements like laughing or moving, in general.  I eventually got some pain meds ordered (dilaudid and oxycodone) and while  I had at first refused the pain meds, after the pain started to build, I was asking for anything they would give me.  The pain meds eventually kicked in, and life felt nice and fuzzy and I appreciated the friends that stopped by to cheer me up as I struggled to stay awake.

Life was OK until about 3 a.m. when I woke up in agony.  My day nurse and my night nurse had very different pain management strategies, and my night nurse only wanted to administer pain medication after I requested it.  This sounds alright on principal, but once I fell asleep, I didn't wake up until it was way too late for the lesser of two evils (oxycodone) and she went straight for the dilaudid, which I really wanted to avoid after I read about it online.  The oxycodone had seemed to work better the day before, the issue being you need to take it before pain is at a 10 because it takes 20 minutes or so to kick in.  So, as I whimpered in pain, I also tried to negotiate with the nurse to not get me to the point of needing dilaudid.  I also remember sobbing and pleading that I not be discharged in the morning.. I was panicking about the thought of going home alone and having one of these painful attacks, that felt like a cross between what I'd expect a heart attack to feel like, and a collapsed lung. Luckily the day nurse came back, and I got back on my happy schedule of oxycodone, but not before I had a hysterical break-down over the IV that wouldn't stop beeping and the fact that I couldn't eat without sounding the IV.  Luckily I don't have to interact with those nurses on a daily basis, because they both really saw me at my worst.

I was discharged Sunday and am starting to feel normal again. The chest pain is almost gone and I'm starting to breathe more normally. The pain in my right leg had disappeared during my hospital stay (likely because of the pain meds, but also because some of those clots were probably what dislodged and moved to my lungs) but now just feels kind of heavy and electric. I have no answers for where I'm going at this point in terms of recovery, and am actively looking to replace my initial primary care guy who both mis-read the initial ultrasound, and has provided little guidance on anything.  An example being that he just called to cancel tomorrow's appointment, so I've had no follow-up appointment since leaving the hospital (and I didn't see him in the hospital), and he says he doesn't need to see me for another month for an ultrasound, when he had mentioned that I could do screenings every 2 weeks when I last spoke with him. I do know that I'm not supposed to do anything active (according to him) until I have an ultrasound on my calf, so this means he expects me to just hang out and figure out what's going on until he sees me again in a month. Not to mention a thorough explanation of all of that goes along with being on blood thinners, and dosing, etc.  I went in for a blood screen this morning, and the dosage of my medication is based on the results of that test, but despite several calls to the office, I still don't know if I need to continue with a shot in the morning or not.  With thinners, they work to get your INR levels in your blood (which has to do with clotting) up to between 2 and 3, and it's something that is monitored regularly to make sure that dosing is accurate.  I've been on boosters, which they shoot into your stomach, daily since the first morning in the ER, but will get to stop those as soon as I get to where I need to be.

So, a bit of a long post, but that's what I did this weekend.  I'm dealing with it better each day and break into tears less frequently and mainly when I'm alone.  My poor parents are going to flippin' freak when they get home from a South American cruise on Wednesday to find out what I didn't tell them.  Thanks to all of the friends who visited and called and otherwise kept me entertained during a scary weekend.  I'm open to any recommendations for good care in Portland, so if you have them, give me a shout.  

Plane pain: Diagnosis DVT

The last few days haven't been fun.  I returned from a great work trip to Istanbul, but landed in New York with some weird upper calf pain. Tightness, but seemingly unrelated to running (or even sitting on the plane, for that matter). Some google research eventually convinced me by Monday night that I had deep vein thrombosis (DVT), or clotting in the deep veins of the leg.  A closet hypochondriac, I opted to get it checked out when the pains didn't disappear by Tuesday morning and seemed to worsen.

After a brief examination, the doctor said that DVT was doubtful, but to ease my fears, ordered an ultrasound.  The ultrasound technician let me know that she could not say anything to me about what she might find, but that if she told me to go home I was fine, or alternatively asked me to go back to my doctor or to the ER, I was probably not fine.  She spent a lot of time going over the affected area (the test has her starting at the groin, and following the vein down your leg and back around behind your knee and down).  So, when she breezed down the upper leg, and then focused on the painful spot for several minutes, I had a feeling I wouldn't be sent home.

Fast forward 30 minutes, and my doctor was calling the room to talk to me about my results.  No, I didn't have DVT, but did have superficial thrombophlebitis, or clots/inflammation in superficial veins.  Not something I should worry much about, except to take some measures to get rid of these, and prevent them for next time.  No prescription of blood thinners necessary, just go off birth control pills, take an aspirin a day, and elevate the leg when possible.  Exercise was questionable--he didn't know so would get back to me. I had explained to him that I was running for the US at the World 100K championship in 6 weeks, and that the answer to this question was a serious one for me.

I ran the next morning, and my calf wasn't happy.  It felt a good inch shorter than it's normal tight self.  The pain did seem to be worsening, and the doctor never called back.  I finally called and was told he was gone for the day.  Not long after that, his colleague called to say that the ultrasound had been misread; I had both deep and superficial clotting and would need to start blood thinners immediately, and not to exercise.  Most cases would clear up in 6 weeks or so.

I explained my situation to him--that I had a major race in just under 6 weeks, and that lazing about wasn't ideal. He couldn't really tell me anything that I wanted to hear.  He couldn't recommend that I keep training, and couldn't give me a timeline for when that might be possible. But that I needed to start on blood thinners immediately, which is why he was calling, and that I should further discuss with my doctor a plan going forward. A quick google of blood thinners had me a bit freaked out.  No playing with sharp objects or shaving my legs for a while.  Blood thinners and Amy just seem to be a dangerous combo being that I'm quite possibly the most accident-prone person I know.

That was yesterday.  I had a painful night--a feeling of knife stabs into my calf.  I'm no closer to having an answer from my doctor, who told me he's still working to reach out to specialists and get more answers.  I will have blood work done on Monday after I've been on the medication for 5 days which will tell something about the level of something or other in my blood.

I'm stubborn, but not stupid, and if exercise is highly inadvisable than I'll be a good patient, but I'm extremely frustrated at the moment.  I don't want to give up on Worlds, but am not sure when I'll be able to run again.  Regardless of what the doctors tell me, I currently can hardly walk, so even if I had the go-ahead today, couldn't run.  It's hard to believe that the Ray Miller 50 was just over 2 weeks ago. Like they say, ultras are all about peaks and valleys and I seem to have taken a nose-dive off of a high peak into a rather deep valley.  

Ray Miller 50 Mile: Focusing on me

I was hanging out in Nairobi on Wednesday evening, enjoying a few beers after co-facilitating a somewhat stressful 3-day training when I decided to check my itinerary so as to figure out what time I needed to be awake on Thursday to make my noon'ish flight. The airport is only a 30 minute drive from the airport, but that can extend to 3+ hours if you hit the wrong traffic circles at the wrong time (one reason I'm not a huge fan of Nairobi--getting around is complete chaos). It should have seemed odd that I was catching a flight in the middle of the day, as I'd always flown out of Nairobi at night (and that I would arrive in LA just 6 hours after departing with a 30 hour trip and an 11 hour time difference) but I hadn't given it much thought.

So, I checked and the itinerary read 12:35 a.m. Thursday....hmmm. What exactly did that mean?  I have always struggled with the 12 a.m./p.m. thing, and wasn't really sure if my flight was in 3 hours, 15 hours, or 27 hours. I've missed 12 a.m./p.m. flights before, and am relatively intelligent, so one might think that I would be able to figure it all out, but I can't. Luckily I can recognize my inadequacies and sought guidance.  I walked down to the bar and asked my friends to explain: "What does 12:35 a.m. Thursday mean?"  Yep, my flight was in just a few hours--midnight as opposed to noon. While I was bummed to miss a night out on the town in Nairobi, I was excited to leave Nairobi, too, and super excited that I figured this out before I royally screwed up.  Missing my flight would have made the Ray Miller 50 really really challenging (as my ankles would hardly have had time to decrease in size before the race started) had I arrived a day later.

3 flights and 30 hours later, my dear friend, Meghan, met me at the airport on Thursday evening as planned, and I struggled to form coherent sentences on the trip from the airport to her brother's place in Thousand Oaks. My luggage hadn't arrived, and this was a little worrisome, as I didn't want to spend Friday shopping for new clothes and shoes.  I crashed, and the luggage fairy delivered my suitcase sometime between 4 and 6 a.m., so all was well in my world.

Google map image of race course from the race website. Awesome course; loved the loop and out-and-back combo.  Climbs were tough but runnable, and descents were long and fast.

I decided to run the Ray Miller 50 for a variety of reasons, one of which was that I could squeeze it in between work trips to Nairobi and Istanbul.  My next big focus race is the World Championship 100K, and running a 50 miler 2 months out seemed like good preparation in what is otherwise a busy and hectic time for me that has put a damper on training. Nairobi is never a fun place for me to train (highlight is that it's at 6000 feet), but by having a race at the end of the trip, I could somewhat excuse a crappy couple of running weeks as a sort of taper. I'd also been on the Ray Miller trail once before, and remembered it as something special, and wanted the opportunity to further explore the area.

Friday was awesome.  Meghan and I drove over to run for 30 minutes on the course, and it felt like we were out there for 5 minutes. After 2 weeks of really unappealing running options in Nairobi, it felt so good to run on a beautiful dirt trail. It was blissful and ended much too soon. The run was followed by beer and delicious fried scallops.  Meghan and I talked a bit about the race on Friday and again on the drive over to the run on Saturday. I'd been having some confidence issues after a very blah attempt at Orcas Island, and my fear of racing seemed to be winning out. My main goal for Saturday was to focus on me, and not let external factors, like where others were in relation to me, stress me out and cause me to react in a negative way (backing off). It was going to be all about me.  Meghan is always super supportive and positive, and convinced me that I was fit and ready to let one fly. I hoped that we would let one fly together, as I love to run with Meghan.

When the race started at 6 a.m. it was still fairly dark, so I fell in behind Shawna and just tried to follow her footsteps.  I chatted briefly with Jimmy Dean and Mark, two of my favorites, and who I would end up seeing throughout the day.  After a few miles and just before the top of the first climb up Point Mugu, I passed Shawna, and continued to push the pace from there. Much of the first 20 miles felt too fast, but I couldn't seem to back off the pace, and kept pushing.  Around mile 18 Tommy, another favorite, caught up to me on one of the many fun descents and didn't want by, so I continued to set the pace, although now with a little pressure to not impede his progress so pushed it a bit hard into the aid station (mile 19.3).  I was hurting at this point, and didn't really even notice the fact that I was surrounded by super heroes.  How does one miss that important point?

Some of the Super Heroes at Danielson Ranch AS (19.3). I'm not sure who these characters are (a giraffe superhero?) but the more traditional Wonder Woman/Superman were also there.  How I ran through all of this without even realizing that were super heroes present is hard to explain, except that it was the start of my only major bonk. Photo by Jack Rosenfeld.

I followed Tommy out of the aid station after an emergency pit stop, but at a much slower pace and lost him quickly. The next several miles were the long climb up Sandstone Peak (roughly 7 miles). It looked like the day could turn into a slog as it felt a little like I'd just raced a half marathon.  Mark passed me on this climb, and he passed me like I was standing still.  It was a ~6 mile climb, and quite runnable, although I was walking at this point.  He commented that I had taken off at a blistering pace.  Yep, probably a bit too blistering.  I continued to slog, running when I could, which wasn't that often.  This section of the course was gorgeous, with great views of surrounding mountains and the ocean in the distance, and really cool rock formations, like the butt crack rock, which was pretty hard to miss.  The climb eventually ended, and Jimmy caught me as I ran back towards him, second guessing a turn.  I had some confusion at one of the intersections marked with arrows that weren't ours.  I probably spent 3 or 4 minutes standing and then proceeding and then returning to question the turn again.  He commented that "the girls" were a couple minutes back.  Crap.  I was surprised I hadn't yet been caught by anyone as slowly as I'd ascended the climb, and then with minutes wasted trying to decide which way to get down to the aid station.

At Yerba Buena AS I picked up my second bottle, and continued on to the turn-around.  Within a quarter mile of picking up my second bottle, I decided to drop it and pick it up on the return.  I'm simply not strong enough to carry 2 full bottles, and wanted to do it for as little of a distance as possible, and would need to carry both for the 11 mile stretch after Yerba Buena the second time through.  At the turn-around (approx mile 31) I calculated that I was about 8 minutes up on Shawna 10 or so on Meghan and Angela, so knew that I needed to keep pushing.  It was getting to be that point in the race where I had led for so long that I'd resent being passed.  I was glad that there were two big descents coming up because I was confident that I could hold my own on the downs.  By the turn-around, I was starting to feel relatively good again and everything was runnable until we started the steep climb up out of Yerba Buena. I left YB with two full bottles and downed one as quickly as I could to avoid the weight of two. Even holding on to two water bottles was driving me crazy, and I bemoaned the fact that I hadn't thought to pack a pack. Packing for a race two weeks prior while packing for a work trip at the same time leads to crappy preparation.  I tried sticking one down my bra, and it reminded me that being boob-less is a good thing, as it bounced around and annoyed me.

Surprisingly, I caught a few guys heading up the climb, including Jimmy, and then caught up to Mark on the big descent, which went on for miles and miles.  "Back from the dead," I commented as I caught up to him, and passed, although he latched on.  I really let it go on the downhill, and my shins and lower legs were starting to feel stressed as it went on for several miles.  I'm not sure how quickly legs forget how to climb and descend, but I hadn't been on a hill in my 2-weeks in Kenya, and my legs seemed to recognize that. But there were a lot of really long and bombable descents, which were hard not to bomb.

Grinding up the final climb. I always seem to be looking at my feet. Photo by Jayme Burtis.

After making the turn off the of the Sandstone Peak climb (the out-and-back section), the course starts to roll a bit while continuing generally downhill towards the last aid station (mile 45.5).  Mark and Jimmy passed me back, and I didn't have the leg speed or will to suffer to keep up.  I passed Tommy back at this point, who looked to be cramping.  The rest of the run was pretty uneventful.  I was alone, although I'd run alone almost all day except at the beginning, and a few miles with Mark and Tommy.  I tried to keep pushing, as I knew I hadn't been too far ahead at the turn-around, and, again, it sucks to lose the lead in the last 5 miles after leading for 40+ miles.  I was taking in calories well (strictly gels), for the most part, and besides some lower leg trauma from the descents, feeling pretty good.

The race finishes coming up and over a 2-mile climb, and then turns onto the Ray Miller trail for a really sweet downhill finish.  The Ray Miller trail is the first trail I ever ran on the west coast, back when I had come out to run Coyote 2 Moon, and I remembered it as stunning.  It was just as stunning as I'd remembered it, and the downhill 2-miles to the finish was fast and fun (or at least that's how I remember it a few days later--at the time, I think all of the muscles/tendons in my lower legs were on the verge of a major protest).  I finished in 8:10, 2 minutes behind Jimmy and 5+ minutes behind Mark for first chick and 6th overall.  In the end, I could have relaxed on the Ray Miller trail as Shawna (8:44), Meghan and Angela (8:51) weren't in sight, but one never knows. Felt good to know I'd put 25 minutes on them in the last 20 miles.

My quads definitely weren't ready to run downhills like that.  I was completely trashed on Sunday, and it wasn't until Wednesday morning that I was recovered enough to get in a run. I walked on Sunday, and Monday and a massage on Tuesday really helped work out the funk.  Thursday my legs felt 100% better, so it was a short but severe case of quad death.

The final downhill miles to the finish on the Ray Miller trail.  I love this trail and enjoyed every minute of it.  Photo by Jack Rosenfeld.

Overall, a great day for me, and exactly what I needed.  I stayed within my own head, wasn't afraid to race, and went after it from the start.  I'd been having some confidence issues and just feeling lackluster, in general, about where I'm at.  Life had gotten in the way and caused my mileage totals to be lower than I would hope over the past several weeks, but this left me confident that I'm in a good place, regardless.  This was a great motivator for me to show me that I am in shape, and with a good training cycle through Worlds, can throw down a great performance.  We've got a great team lined up, and I can't wait to see what we can do in Italy in April.  After Orcas I was ready to throw in the towel, but after Ray Miller I'm excited and feel like I belong on the team. I'm shooting for 7:48 at Worlds and top 10 to ensure a spot in South Korea in 2013.  There, I said it.

I highly recommend this race--great course, great aid, great weather.  There aren't many 50 milers this early in the season, when the schedule seems to be dominated by 50Ks, which I've decided I really don't much care for.  I'd guess after the favorable response it got this year, Ray Miller will fill quickly in years to come, and for good reason. Thanks to Keira and all of the volunteers out there--this one's a keeper and I can't wait for another go at it!  Southern California in February is pretty dreamy to us Oregonians (although I looked forward to returning to the cold drizzle after 2 weeks of entirely too much sun).  And to my travel companion, Meghan, many thanks for the talks and laughs, and I'm looking forward to several more destination races in 2012.

Tomorrow morning I'm off to Istanbul for a week--I'm excited to explore a new place (to me) and can't wait for some morning runs along the sea.

Sunday recovery soak in LA.  A painful day, as my quads were trashed and the jet lag/post-race combo led to about 1 hour of sleep on Saturday night.  I was dead on my feet by the time I got home late Sunday night, but it was worth it. It appears that I'm smiling here, but I think it's more of a cold water grimace. Photo by Meghan Arbogast.