Crazy enough for Hellgate

I watched one of those animated videos the other day that brought about some momentary clarity on a day when I was heading out for a run, but trying to decide if a rest day for a cranky knee was a better choice. It was the injured Ironman one, where the chick in the sauna is talking about her training (through 6 stress fractures) to a regular guy, who just keeps asking "why?" and sees the apparent absurdity in her endeavors.  I've paused to question the sanity of what we ultrarunners do many times recently as I get ready for a race that I've always considered just beyond the brink of sanity--one that I never wanted to run because it was just a little too nuts. And, it's been during the training for this race that I've paused on a few occasions to question why.  Even through my moment of clarity when I knew deep down that rest was a smart option, I opted for a run, also knowing that the smart option would leave me stir crazy for the rest of the day, having the day off of work and plenty of time to run and a weekly mileage total I hoped to hit.

One of those "we're nuts" moments was on a recent night summit to Larch Mountain via Angels Rest.  I proposed the idea of a Friday night run at our Tuesday night trail run, and you know you're surrounded by a bunch of crazies when the 4 guys behind you immediately agree to join in on the fun.  We left from the Bridal Veil parking lot at about 7:30 in a steady rain. Normal people are home on the couch or bellied up to the bar, but my friends and I were opting to run up into what likely would be a snowstorm on top of Larch Mountain covering 23 miles and 7500 feet of climb. We did find snow, but managed to summit even with a foot of powder on top.  We finished sometime after midnight, found some late night grub, and made it home and in bed by 3 a.m.  There were more than a few occasions on that run when we admitted to ourselves, "This isn't normal."  99.XXX percent of the population isn't running up a mountain in the rain/snow to get in night miles in extreme conditions.  But it was one of those runs that was 100% memorable--I won't soon forget that group or that particular run. The Gorge is beautiful by day, but also pretty damn amazing at night in the snow.

The view on top of Larch.  Me, Yassine, Shane and Aaron (Jason is taking the photo).  The snow up top  was a good 12" deep. 

Another of those "possibly nuts" moments was on a 30 mile solo night run in Forest Park two days later.  I wanted to hit my first 100 mile training week, and wanted to get in more night running so opted to wait to start my run until 3:30, to guarantee that at least a few hours of it would be in the dark.  And even though I realize that running alone on trails in the dark is not what many consider the wisest of options, it's one of my favorite times to run, and I'd guess the chance of real danger is fairly slim.  Yes, you could run into a freak in the woods with an ax, but I like to think that I could outrun most ax-toting freaks (and in Portland you can run into freaks just about anywhere). And just when I'm thinking that it's not the brightest of ideas, I run into my running buddy, Rick, also out running alone through the woods at night.  There's comfort in knowing that I'm not the only wack-job out there (and that hopefully, the other wack-jobs out there are just friends out getting in miles).

And I guess that's the appeal of Hellgate.  The same wackos head back year after year. It can't be so bad if the same people inflict it upon themselves repeatedly.

Hellgate calls itself a 100K, although everyone except Horton, seem willing to admit that it's actually 66 miles.  Starting at midnight (or rather 12:01 a.m. on Saturday) in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia the second Friday of December, it almost guarantees to be a suffer-fest and a race where no 100K PR will ever be set.  Rather, times are likely to be several hours slower than any other 100K you'll ever run.  The factors that attribute to this include those extra 4+ miles, the weather, and a tough, technical course that includes somewhere around 14,000 feet of climb. Started in 2003, the years get referred to as "the ice year," "the cold year (or frozen corneas) year," the "leaf year,"  etc.  Yet while everyone loves to complain about Hellgate, those who complain flock to the event year after year. Limited to about 150 runners, the event has a cult following.  To celebrate my 5 year anniversary as an ultrarunner, I'm finally just crazy enough to see for myself what it is about Hellgate that causes everyone to complain so, yet return to the source of the agony, again and again.  Whether I'm tough enough to endure Hellgate is a question yet to be answered.  Oregon has made me a bit soft, I'm afraid.

Here's hoping that Hellgate is not a white-out year....

Epic October runs

After Worlds I had a case of post-event funk, not really enthused about training, while at the same time really wanting to sign up for something, but unable to find anything that fit into my schedule around some previously planned trips and visitors.  I finally settled on Hellgate 100K as a "distant" goal in December and opted for some epic runs on routes that I'd been wanting to do.  Throw in running the Portland Marathon with my sister--her first--and October has been a month of epic runs to remember including:  St. Helens Circumnavigation, Portland Marathon and topping it off last weekend with a rim to rim to rim in the Grand Canyon.  Some photo memories from October....

Mount St. Helen's Traverse, 33 miles, Oct 2nd with Jason, Randy, Shane, Kathleen, and Ellen.

Early on in the day.  The day started out gray, and stayed that way most of the day.  It was comfortable at first, but we were all anxious to get dry and warm by the time we finished.

The trail is well marked, although some markers are easier to see than others.  Hard to miss these mini-boulder-pile-style cairns.

Felt like we were running on the moon at times.  Like no other place I've ever run.

On a hot sunny day, the trail would be quite exposed.  Luckily for us, it was overcast and raining much of the day.

Pretty obvious reminders throughout of the eruption.  A highly disturbed landscape.

Our moment in the sun.  This sunburst lasted just moments, but it was nice to see the sun, St. Helens, and our shadows, even if only briefly.

Portland Marathon with my SISTER!!  Oct 9th.

Lisa and I pre-race.  My sister rocks! I can honestly say that I never thought I would get to run a marathon with my sister. I love that she's gotten into running.

Early on.  Lisa was smiling!  Weather was perfect, and very Portland.  Cloudy, drizzly, and cool, and actually pretty much perfect for marathoning.  I gotta say that the course certainly does not show you the best of Portland.  Lots of train yards and industrial areas.  

Running buddy, Jason, gives 1000s of women the opportunity to meet the man of their dreams.  

Just a few blocks from the end and Lisa is still smiling!  Way to rock it in for a great first marathon finish!  

Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim with Meghan, Jason, Todd and Yassine.  Oct 23rd.  51 miles.  A truly EPIC run!!  
(Epic may be grossly overused in this post, but this run truly was epic)

Couldn't have asked for a better group with which to experience this--you all are the best! 

First sighting of the Grand Canyon upon arrival on Saturday.  Excited for the adventure to begin early Sunday morning!

Yassine put together this great video from our adventure....A fun way to sum up the journey.

October brought a lot of fun memories!  Here's hoping for a few more epic runs in 2011, including the Hellgate 100K in just 6 weeks!  I've wanted to do Hellgate for years, so am excited to be back on the right coast in December to experience what will hopefully not be an overly epic run through the Blue Ridge Mountains in the cold wintery dark.  One never knows what Hellgate might bring....

Huggers in 2012?

My biggest stressor in preparing for the World Cup 100K was what to wear.  Bun huggers or shorts? My uniform arrived a week prior to my departure with huggers, but no shorts, so I sent a desperate email to the folks at USATF to fedex me some shorts pronto. They arrived, but in the meantime, I had grown used to the idea of wearing the huggers, something I hadn't had the opportunity to do since college, where doing so earned me the nickname of Wedgie. However, racing a 5K in blue underwear is very different than racing for 8 hours in blue underwear. In the end, I decided sporting the huggers would be a bit cocky, being that I was an alternate coming off the bench. I put the huggers out there as a goal--if I ran well enough to stay on the team, the huggers would be the reward, and I could wear them in Italy in April.

I'm not really that much of a flake--I had bigger stressors than just about deciding whether to wear underwear or shorts, although it did take my mind off the more serious questions, like what the hell I was doing running around in circles on flat roads in the Netherlands.

Another stressor was the fact that I hadn't been training for a flat road 100K, but I mentioned that a bit in the last post, I believe. Anyhow, after finding out 3.5 weeks prior that I made the team, I was able to abruptly halt my Waldo taper, squeeze in 78 and 71 mile weeks with some (well, 1) longer road runs (30 miles with Meghan 3 weeks out) some track work, some tempo runs, buy a plane ticket, taper for a week and a half, and call it good. As first alternate, I'd known the possibility existed that I'd make the team last minute, and I'd arranged my schedule to accomodate (dropping Cascade Crest and replacing it with Waldo, with the idea that I'd drop out of Waldo if I got on the team at the last minute). However, my training was geared more towards Mt. Hood and Waldo.

Meghan, Pierre and I on a canal tour in Amsterdam (Pierre is a traveling prairie dog, who you might see pop up from time to time. He started leaving me post-its at work the week prior expressing his desire to tag along, promising that he'd trained very hard for the event).

We arrived in Amsterdam on Tuesday and had some time to go sightseeing before heading out to the athletes' quarters near Winschoten on Wednesday afternoon. Meghan and I toured the Van Gogh museum (which was excellent),  and enjoyed several croissants (also excellent), some tasty beers, fine Argentinian steaks, a relaxed run around the streets of Amsterdam, and a canal tour before heading out to Winschoten on Wednesday.  The trains were more complicated than expected, but we arrived Wednesday evening after a scenic tour of the Dutch countryside (thanks Timo and Anne!).  The Netherlands is flat. I knew this, but was still amazed at just how flat it was--Paraguayan Chaco flat.  And everything was very cute, small and organized. The farm animals were plentiful and adorable, as well. Cute small houses, neat orderly lawns, perfectly paved roads, orderly fields, and well-maintained bike lanes. It was all a little surreal.

Pierre waiting for the train that never came (at least not to the track where we were waiting).

Being sequestered with all of the athletes was interesting. We were at a sort of summer camp place, where people come to spend their holidays, housed 3-4 athletes to 2 BR units. For me, I had the best roommate scenario possible, with Meghan and Joe, who were both 100% relaxed and had a calming effect on me. The last thing I want to do before a race is to be holed up with nothing to do but think about the fact that I have a race to run. I'd rather have a hectic day at work, not enough time to throw some things in the car, arrive late the night before, and throw on some shoes early the next morning and run. This was the opposite. Two and a half days to rest and get accustomed to the time change around a group of antsy runners. Add to that a mid-morning race start that allows for several hours of pre-race reflection on race day. Was I anxious? Yes.

Team USA: Pam, Meghan, Devon, Carolyn, me and Annette.

There were several reminders that this wasn't just any race: posing in team uniforms with the flag, a parade of nations, team managers and meetings, breakfast each day with runners from all of the participating countries dressed in their respective sweats, etc. And of course the fact that we were wearing honest-to-goodness USA uniforms from the '08 games--pretty sweet but a wee bit of pressure. Luckily, there were 6 of us out there working together.  6 very strong runners, who all had the possibility to score for the team, which lessened the pressure on any individual. Meghan and Devon were definitely the front runners, but any of us had the potential to score and push each other on to team success. Teams can have up to 6 members run, and the top 3 score for the team.

Wait... is this Oregon? The only sunny day we had was race day. 

Meghan trying to look intimidating.  

The course was a 10K loop around town, which we'd run 10 times to reach 100K. Never having run a loop course of this nature, I didn't know what to expect. We'd had the chance to tour the course in a downpour on Thursday. If felt homey, at least the running in a downpour part.  And, of course there were all of those adorable small houses to swoon over.  And lots of windmills, too.

Nathan and Matt share a moment in front of a windmill.

Touring the course in a rainstorm. We're off course at this point, but it doesn't really matter. It would have been impossible to stray from the course on race day. 

Friday was a lot of down time, which sounds great, but it only worked in making me increasingly antsy.  There was a parade in the afternoon, with all of the countries wandering through the down-town pedestrian mall after some kids danced in the town plaza.  It was interesting.

Saturday finally rolled around, after what felt like an eternity. We were bused to the start on the first sunny and warm day all week.  75 degrees with 70% humidity after a cold rainy week in the 50s. This thing was finally underway, and we'd all get a tan in the process--the first reminder that I should have worn the huggers!

A summary of the race by lap:

Lap 1: (44:42) Crowded at the start, but eventually weaved our way through traffic, and I moved up to run with Meghan and Devon.  At some point, I realized this might be a wee bit agressive, but it felt good, so I hung around for a while.  Was fun chatting with Jo, who I met at Comrades, and who went on to finish 2nd.

Somewhere probably towards the end of lap 1 with Devon, me, Meghan and Jo.  Happy here, as we've only got 9 loops to go! The only shot of me smiling the entire race (photo from live webcast).

Lap 2: (45:10) Kept trying to fall back, but found myself catching back up to Devon and Meghan so hung around. Was feeling good until right before the Start/Finish where I realized I was suddenly about to crap my pants.  There was no where to stop, as there were barricades lining both sides of the road. Oops. Race went from good to disastrous in a matter of about 400 meters.

Annette and Pam looking strong early (photo by Darryl Schaffer).

Lap 3: (49:09) 3 bathroom stops. 2 in porta-potties and 1 in public.  Sorry Winschoten.  There was really no where to have an emergency stop.  There was a stop in the park bushes, with a group of old men standing about 5 feet away.  And you're not really that anonymous when you have "Amy" typed across the front of your bib with a USA jersey on. Alas, I wasn't arrested and it rained hard that night, so hopefully that cleaned up the city a bit.  I doubt I was the only one. In lap 3 I moved from 3rd on the team to last (6th), and was a ways back.

Our crew at the 5K aid station.  Just as in a trail ultra, aid stations are something I look forward to immensely, and a good way to tick off the miles.  "Only 5K to the next aid station," etc. Unlike trail ultras, there was little stopping at these aid stations, as our designated crew person was ready to hand off to us and get us back on course in a second (photo by Timo).

Lap 4: (51:02) 3 more bathroom stops. Tummy still not happy. I took 3 imodium during laps 3-4.  At least at this point I knew where the porta-potties were located and made bee-line moves towards them.  Except where I couldn't. At one point I ended up in a driveway, which wouldn't have been so bad had the guy not been out working on his car in the garage, just a few feet away.  Oops.  Sorry, sir.

Lap 5: (49:44) At some point the immodium kicked in (for days).  My stomach felt OK at this point, but I was deflated after having made so many stops and having lost so much time.  I was also probably a bit dehydrated and under-nourished as I'd stopped taking in calories to try to get through the stomach issues.

Lap 6: (53:01) I caught up to Pam and Carolyn somewhere in here, as they were both struggling with their own issues.  Pam was having problems with GI cramping and nausea, and Carolyn's knee was really bothering her.  I plugged on, but was less than enthusiastic about 5 more laps, as it was really a slog at this point. I'm not sure how I managed to run slower than loop 4, where I spent several minutes crapping, but I did. I was moping, and my pace reflected that.

Lap 7: (52:21) More plugging/slogging away.  Trying to remind myself that the race starts at 70K, and that I could make up some ground if I were to speed up.

Looking a little more pensive.  Probably thinking, "Did I really just crap my pants?" Or, "How far to the next porta-potty?"  Or, "Can you get DQ'ed for crapping in public?"  I could lie to you and tell you I was thinking about life, or race strategy, but I wasn't (photo by Raymond Pretat).

Lap 8: (49:06) As I came into the start/finish, I saw Devon, who'd been running up front with/in front of Meghan, off to the side in a chair.  My first thought was F*@&! And I basically yelled that over to her.  Well, I think I said, "What happened?" But it probably sounded like "Oh f*@&!"  Finding myself in 3rd, I was suddenly needed, and that motivated me to pick up the pace, and run through the aid station more quickly than the previous laps.  I think I clocked a couple 6:30 miles out of fear, and then bonked big time.  OK....still 30K left--time to push in a more sensible and sustainable manner.  I felt guilty most of the lap for how I'd yelled at Devon, hoping that it had sounded more like a sincere question of whether she was OK, and less like an exclamatory Oh Crap!

No stopping allowed.  Picking up aid on the run at the US feeding station at the 5K point. Yet another serious face. I'm not nearly as miserable as most of the pics make me out to be (photo by Timo).

Lap 9: (49:32) Knowing I was in 3rd for the team, and having the US crew yelling at me each time through the aid stations was motivating.  Several times I thought about how disappointed Meghan would be if we didn't make the podium. Due to drops and injuries, the US team had not finished a complete team the year before, and this was a point of frustration for many, especially Meghan.

Lap 10: (46:28) Starting off on Lap 10, Lin yelled to me that a podium team finish depended on me. Nothing like a little pressure to motivate--Argh! I felt like I was cruising in lap 10, and was passing people left and right (although many of them were relay runners or folks I was now lapping). I kept reminding myself that every second counted.  In that last lap, I passed the top 4 Japanese runners including their first runner just meters away from the finish, which was satisfying, as they all had run by in a pack looking really controlled and smart around lap 4.   In the last lap I moved up from 17th to place 11th in 8:10:11.   Meghan was 5th in 7:51:10, Annette 6th in 7:54:59, Pam (8:16:45) and Carolyn (8:45:53) rounded out the team.  Meghan set a world record for the 50 year old age group (AMAZING) and Annette had a big PR day.  I would guess the rest of us were not all that thrilled with how the day unfolded for each of us individually, but we were all happy to place 2nd as a team.

The men's team rocked it, finishing in 2nd, 3rd, and 6th to take the gold.

In my defense, I had picked off the entire Japanese team in my last lap, so my looks of anguish, include a bit of fatigue, as I started my final "kick" with about 5000 meters to go (photo by Darryl Schaffer).

In the end, seconds didn't really matter, but you never know that until it's over.  The Russian team beat us handily by 35+ minutes to win gold and we beat the Japanese handily by about 40 minutes to take silver.  

On the podium.  Felt good! (photo by Darryl Schaffer)

Did I have a great race?  No. I was crapping almost constantly for 20% of it.  It’s hard to crap and run at the same time.

Did I have fun?  Looking back, yes.  I almost always remember races somewhat fondly no matter how much suffering was involved.  And shortly after the race, I knew that I would do it again if given the opportunity. There’s something really special about a World Championship event, and the spirit and camaraderie of being part of such an event. I haven't run on a team in years (well, I have my Montrail teammates, and there's WUS and the VHTRC, but not a team in the sense of a team competition), and I'd forgotten just how fun it is!  The race course was festively decorated and there were people out all day cheering us on.  If you're going to run 100K in 10K loops, you might as well have a party going on around you. 

Am I proud of my effort?  Yes.  I had a long rough patch, but came back strong and dug deep to finish as strong as I could for the team.  It was all about the team’s placing, and once I found myself in 3rd, it was much easier to quit whining to myself about how much time I wasted, and suck it up and finish as high as I could to help the US stay on the podium.  I started lap 10 in 17th place and finished in 11th, running the fastest 10th  lap amongst women. I didn't finish in the time I wanted (sub 8), but I definitely pushed hard late, and turned it from a complete train wreck into a respectable finish.

Finishing in 11th kind of sucks, because it’s one place away from 10th.  The difference for me between 10th and 11th is huge. Tenth would mean an auto entry onto the 2012 team, and the next worlds are in Italy in April.  Do I want to be on the team?  Yes.  Will I actually make the team?  Maybe, but maybe not.  It looks like I could be on the bubble based on times, and I don’t look forward to playing the alternate role again if that’s where I end up.  Being an alternate puts me in a tough position.  What it meant for me this time was that I was half-ass training for Waldo (a mountain 100K) and half-ass training for worlds (flat road) and not effectively training for either.   If I don’t run Worlds, I’ll likely choose to run Zane Grey, and the training for these 2 events couldn’t be more dissimilar. It's hard to be training for a technical mountain course, with the possibility of a fast flat road course in the back of your mind. 

Evidence that the huggers exist.

So, will I get to wear huggers in Italy?  I hope so. But if not, I'll be wearing them at Zane Grey.

Lessons learned:
If you think before a race that your shoes are going to tear up your feet, they probably will, and you should seek other options.  I wore some K-Swiss Quickie Blade Lights that I could tell were going to trash my feet the first time I wore them. I had blisters by mile 10, and they only got worse.  If I end up on the Italy team, I'll do a bit more research and find some road flats that work.  In this case, I would have been better off in trail shoes (I toyed with wearing the Montrail Rogue Flys, and wish I would have).

I may need to admit that I have some food issues/allergies or remnant parasites, and some testing might be a good idea.  I need to figure out a solution so that I don't waste precious minutes sitting in a porta-potty.  Or maybe it was just bad luck from a case of extreme nerves. This year I was fine at Miwok and WS, but had some major issues at this race, Mt. Hood, Comrades, Chuckanut.

Regardless of whether you think you're going to chafe, you are.  Apply body glide liberally to all body parts coming into contact with new objects, like the Nike shorts and bra top that may have left permanent scars.  I experienced number chafe, too, which was a new one for me.

Running in loops on roads can be fun! And if I make the team for Italy, I'll be focusing very hard on getting well under 8 hours!

Thanks to the great Team USA crew--from our managers to friends and family of the various team members who were out there helping--you were all awesome and supportive and your assistance was much appreciated!

There were a lot of linkages for me on this team, which was also fun:

Montrail ladies pose for a group shot.  Here with Annette and Ellie.

Andy, also on Team Montrail, rocked it to finish 3rd overall, at his first Worlds.

Team Oregon: Me, Pam and Meghan.

Team WUS!!  Long live WUS.

Changing Gears

While I wouldn't call myself a mountain runner (I have lived in--in order of increasing flatness--Iowa, DC, Illinois, Kansas and the Paraguayan Chaco, equaling about 94% of my life), I would usually say that I prefer mountain ultras (unless you ask me while I'm slogging up a steep climb) (and I might go so far as to claim that Iowa is a mountain state, at least the NE corner I lived in for college, and KU was perched on top of Mt. Oread, which also almost makes Lawrence a mountain city). So, it was with some regret that I said goodbye to running the Waldo100K (a lovely mountain trail race on 98% single track), and hello to racing the World 100K in the Netherlands (10 times around a flat-as-a-pancake 10K road loop).  But, it was with only a very tiny bit of regret, because how often do I get to wear a USA jersey?  Um, never. But I will next weekend!  And I might even throw on some bun huggers (I wore both the huggers and shorts on trial missions today, and the shorts are in the lead).  Woohoo!!  To say I'm excited to be joining the team is an understatement.

I remain in a perpetual state of under-preparedness and sometimes it serves me better than others, but I'm hoping my 2-week road-cramming phase with some attempts at speed will get me through what is going to be a very different experience.  It's not the road part that I'm that concerned about.  As part of the trail running scene it seems we all have to gush about our love for single track to prove our worthiness (and I do love single track), but I must confess that I also like roads, and find myself on them for probably about half of my weekly mileage, and sometimes more.  I often squeeze in runs over lunch, which means road miles for a good portion of my weekday miles, although weekends are typically always on trail.  I'm usually just happy to be able to run, and if I'm around trails, awesome, but if I'm somewhere where roads are the best option, I don't mind.

This won't be my first road ultra. I ran a 50 miler on roads back when I was living in El Salvador (an 80K race in Guatemala), which was a hoot (recap here). And I've run since I was 11, most of those years on roads.  So, I'm pretty comfortable and familiar with hard surfaces. The flat part is going to be the interesting part, although as I mentioned, I am from and have lived in some of the flattest places on earth (the Paraguayan chaco probably has an elevation profile very similar to that of Winschoten). However, I have never raced an ultra as flat as what theWinschoten course will be. The course description lists the elevation profile as having a meter of elevation gain/loss per 10K loop.  What I think will be the most challenging aspect of the race is the loop nature.  But, the fact that this is a team event, and that the US team is strong and shooting for gold, might make the loops actually kind of nice, in terms of knowing where people are at, and working together.  I'm excited for the challenge and can't wait to jump on a plane Monday morning to get this adventure started!  And I can't wait to put on that USA jersey next Saturday--not something I ever imagined I'd have the opportunity to do.  

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!