Habanero 100

The sign-up

On Friday, at the gym, I proclaimed that it was about 2 months until my next 100 miler – Cactus Rose.  Then I went and ran the powerlines.  I cut that run short because I was overheated and tired.  Maybe it was because I was disappointed in myself for cutting so many of my runs short this week; maybe it was temporary insanity due to stress levels from work and school; whatever the reason, around 6pm I started wondering if instead of volunteering at the Habanero 100 the next day, I could run it instead.  I texted one of the RDs, Rachel, and asked if she happened to be overflowing with volunteers.  She checked and responded around 9pm, saying that I could go ahead and run.  I registered online about a minute later. 

At about 4am, I woke up from a racing-related bad dream, and I laid awake for a while thinking, “What on earth was I thinking?!  This is insane! Who decides to run a 100-miler the night before?” 

Honestly, this feeling stuck with me for the next two days.  I worried the entire race that I was being extremely cocky thinking I could just walk into this without properly training, tapering, or even thinking out a race plan.  In my experience, cockiness is rarely rewarded.  I worried that it would be Cactus 2014 all over again, with me blowing up and having to take naps in the middle of the trail, telling other runners to please go around me.  Regardless of what Karl Meltzer says, 100 miles is a long way.  On the other hand, it also seemed like a chance to do something epic.  And in the words of fellow Rockhopper Tom Bowling, spoken right before he ran a beer mile in his dress clothes, “YOLO.” 

Loops 1-10

It’s always fun running new trails.  Buescher State Park has some great trails, with a lot of diversity – parts are rocky, parts are sandy, and parts are covered in pine needles.  I settled into a pace that I figured would get me through the loop in about 90 minutes.  (The race consisted of 14 loops, 7.2 miles each.) Fortunately, my left leg (the good leg!) started hurting around mile 3, so that occasionally distracted me from my terrible chafing pain, which is nice.

Let’s talk about the chafing for a moment.  Holy crap.  Jazzy took this photo of me sometime in the middle of the race.  That was the better side – my left side was even worse.  Not to mention the chafing under my sports bra and in my shorts!  I have never run shirtless before, but at various points during the race I briefly considered taking it all off and running naked through the woods; I figured that might be morally unacceptable to folks, however.  Probably only Jenn Shelton could get away with that.

Apparently everyone and their mother was breaking out in heat rash.  I had it all over my thighs.  It didn’t bother me, it just looked strange.  What did bother me a little were the horseflies.  At one point I had two horseflies alternately landing on my legs as I ran, and I yelled out “STOP BITING ME, DAMMIT!” just as two runners approached over the hill.  I smiled and said, “Nice job, runners!” like a non-crazy person would do.  I don’t know if they bought it.

Other interesting things from the first 10 loops were that I saw an armadillo, and I almost stepped on a broad-banded copperhead snake at 10pm. 

During various trips through the start/finish between laps, RD Rob gave me reports: you’re 3^rd overall and 1^st female; you’re 2^nd overall and 1^st female, behind Matt Zmolek; Matt’s lying down; you’re 1^st overall; you’re 1 of only 2 still in the race; the other guy’s not likely to make the time cutoff; you’re our only hope.  Better and better news, but I was feeling worse and worse.

Loop 11

The course is a lollipop, so I ran into Matt when he was completing his 10^th loop, and I was starting my 11^th.  I was excited to meet him, because I know he’s friends with Lorenzo, who is also an awesome guy.  Matt and I chatted/commiserated for a bit.  He had flown through the first 100k and really suffered from the heat.  He told me he was going to drop after that loop; that he was doing the math in his head and it wasn’t worth walking the next 9 hours just to finish.  Before we went our separate ways, I told him, honestly, that our conversation had been the most pleasant experience of the last 10 hours.

At this point, I was still jogging the downhills and most of the flats, and walking the hills okay.  But I was really slowing down, and that idea that I still had 9 more hours of this started messing with my head.  After this loop, I still have 3 more loops??  Now that it was the middle of the night, there were very few runners out on the course, and I guess the darkness, loneliness, and exhaustion starts getting to you.  When I finally made it to the aid station, I just wanted to sit down and cry.  But that’s not really my style, so instead I jokingly said to the volunteers, “Hey guys, I’m kind of at my breaking point here.  Got any good pep talks?”  I guess I was desperate for some earth-shattering words of wisdom that would suddenly energize and motivate me.  I don’t really know what I was expecting.  What I got was a very nice, perfectly wonderful, “Keep up the good work.”  I was crushed.   I picked up a cup of ramen noodles and did a 1,000 yard stare into the darkness as I thought, “How on earth am I going to keep going?”

Loop 13 (What happened during loop 12?  Your guess is as good as mine.  It’s a blur.)

The theme of the last two loops was heat exhaustion.  The race started at noon Saturday, so we were in the heat of the day, and then it was infinity percent humidity all night, and by the time it started really warming up again Sunday, I was feeling incredibly dizzy.  I had to keep leaning against trees.  I would sit for a few seconds on a bridge or stump, because it felt amazing to sit, but I had to stop doing that because standing up again made me so lightheaded.  I was walking so slowly during loops 13 and 14, but my heart felt like it was racing.  (I had ditched my heart rate monitor after the first loop, so I don’t have the data.)  At this point, I knew I would be the only finisher, but only if I finished.  Up until the last .2 miles I had a real concern that I was going to collapse on the course and not be able to finish.

Between loop 13 and 14

This part gets its own section, because I was probably at the start/finish aid station for 15 or 20 minutes.  I usually like to speed through aid stations, but this race was an exception.  As soon as I came in I asked Rob if I could cool down before I went back out.  He, Rachel, and all the volunteers were so kind and attentive – probably especially so since I was one of only 2 hundred-milers still in the race by that point (the others had dropped out or been pulled for medical).  Rob gave me his bandana and hat and the volunteers put ice on my back and neck.  They brought me Pedialyte and more gels.  They had only had a couple gel flavors for most of the race, and I had eaten about 60 gels by that point – mostly tropical and hazelnut, so I told them I’d give one of my kidneys for an apple cinnamon gel.  And Rob found a couple!  It’s the small things in life.

We sat around talking and joking for a bit.  Then I suddenly realized I hadn’t weighed in after my loop (weigh ins were mandatory after each loop).  They looked at me funny and said, yes you did.  I laughed and said, “That’s not a good sign . . .”  Then they sent me off, saying I had 5 hours to walk the last loop and make the cutoff.

Loop 14

This was the first 100 I’ve done without a pacer.  Still, I probably talked just as much during the last loops as I would have if someone were with me.  I was a little loopy. . . . I definitely shouted things like, “This mile never ends!” “This is more than half a f---ing mile!” “I hate this f---ing mile!”  “Just let it end!”  etc.  I also made statements like, “Way to be a tree, tree!  Nice job lying there, stick!  And don’t think I’m forgetting about you, cactus!  Excellent work!”  Translation: I was temporarily insane from being tired and hot and hurting.

During the second half of the last loop, I noticed I had become very quiet.  I was really focused on each step, Gordy Ainsleigh style – “I don’t know if I can do 3 more miles, but I can take one more step. And one more.”  I came close to crying multiple times, but I told myself firmly, No crying until the finish!  And then I didn’t cry at the finish.  I was just too tired and relieved and bewildered.  Out of it and overwhelmed.

Finish

Running down that hill to the start/finish was fun every single time.  All 14 times.

Thanks for an epic weekend, Rob and Rachel, all the runners, all the volunteers, and all the spectators. 

Philippians 4:13: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Monument Valley 50M

Thursday, March 12-Friday, March 13

My friends Asma and Matt and I flew into Phoenix Thursday morning and then drove up to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.  After spending Thursday afternoon sliding down and slogging back up a couple miles of the Bright Angel trail on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, and doing the same Friday morning on the South Kaibab trail,we traveled north and east to the Arizona/Utah border for the Monument Valley 50 mile race.

Sign at the Bright Angel trail

Trying not to slip into the canyon

Friday, March 13 -- Packet Pick-up and Trail Briefing

At packet pickup, RD Matt Gunn gave a brief description of the course and then introduced the first of 3 Navajo who would speak with us.  As they talked, we got to enjoy the beauty of the monuments in silhouette as the sun set.  Tanya and Jason had joked that they only attended the race briefing in order to find out the starting time of the race; I was mostly hoping to learn the distance between aid stations.  After the final speaker, a young lady soon to compete in the Miss Indian World 2015 pageant, I realized I wasn't going to find out what I wanted.  The RD didn't say anything more, and the runners looked at each other as we realized the briefing had abruptly ended and that was it.  Another runner turned to me and asked, "What time does the race start?"  I told him 7am, and we verified that we had the right time, as the Navajo Nation observes Daylight Savings Time, so our watches had to be changed from Arizona time.

All joking aside, I really did like the casual, relaxed tone set by the RD, his respect and gratitude for the Navajo people who allowed us to run on their land, and his emphasis that running here is not about a race so much as "an intrinsic way to absorb the landscape."

Matt Gunn's trail briefing

Saturday, March 14 -- 50 Mile Race
Disclaimer: I have a really bad memory, and I'm just recording the miles between aid stations as I recall them, so I might be off a bit.

Miles 0-3.5 (To Sentinel Mesa A/S)
After a Navajo blessing, facing east toward the rising sun, we headed out in the darkness, north toward Sentinel Mesa.  After the sun rose, I was so astounded by the beauty of the monuments to my right that I stopped to take the first of many pictures.  Most of the course is off limits to non-Navajos, so it was such a privilege and blessing to get to see the views we ran through.  This stretch included a sand dune that was really fun to run down.  I was surprised at how many runners went without gaiters, despite the RD's recommendation to wear them.  After coming off that first sand dune, I saw some folks dumping large quantities of reddish sand from their shoes.  It would be frustrating to deal with that all day.

The first picture I took during the race

Miles 3.5-9.5 (To Brigham's Tomb A/S)
These first stretches of the course were singletrack trail, and the terrain was sand that ranged from firmer to looser, but was runnable.  The way to Brigham's Tomb led us past Stagecoach Butte, which was very scenic.  It already started to feel warm by this time, and I'd taken off my light jacket and arm warmers.  To get to the aid station itself, we passed some horses and a cute dog owned by the Navajo who live here.

Miles 9.5-15 (To East Mitten A/S)
In my mind, I keep conflating the Brigham's Tomb stretch with the East Mitten stretch, but I believe this was the part that featured some winding singletrack between boulders.  The RD was at the East Mitten A/S, and he made a comment like, "Is it heating up out there already?" as I poured water over my head.  It actually didn't get too hot, temperature-wise -- I don't think it even got over 70, but I guess I'm really not acclimated to heat after this chilly winter, because out in that sun with no shade to speak of, I felt the need to pour cool water on myself at every aid station I hit, except the first 2 and the last one, when the sun was getting low in the sky again.

The feeling that I was in a John Wayne movie intensified whenever I'd see Navajo guides on horses (look closely).

Miles 15-22 (To Hogan A/S, 1st time)
This was probably my least favorite section of the course, although it was still absolutely picturesque and a blessing to run through.  It was just less fun to run through a wash than to run on singletrack.  One benefit was that occasionally some standing water would be in the creekbed, and every time I'd dip my buff into it to cool my neck.  The final part of this section, leading to the aid station, involved running up an unpaved road with frequent passing tour vehicles, each of which kicked up a wall of sand and dust that made me very thankful for my sunglasses and buff.  The hogan, or traditional dwelling, at this aid station is owned by a Navajo family who made mutton stew for the runners.  I didn't check that out, but only hit up my drop bag and grabbed more gels, as well as sunscreen and water.  I gulped down some Tailwind as well, each time I came back to this A/S.

Miles 22-27 (North Window loop, to Hogan A/S, 2nd time)
Matt Gunn said they call this the Marlboro trail, because it looks like scenery from the cigarette ads.  Every step of this loop offered 360 degree panoramic views.  As we passed by Rain God Mesa, I glimpsed a roadrunner, which reminded me of San Antonio.

Most of the area in which we ran is usually off-limits to non-Navajo people.

Miles 27-37 (Arches loop, to Hogan A/S, 3rd time)
This big loop started off on another unpaved road with vehicles kicking up dust in our faces.  I also experienced two dust devil-type situations, which was kind of interesting and fun.  There were a ton of photo-worthy features on this stretch: The Thumb, Totem Pole, a huge sand dune, Big Hogan, Ear of the Wind, and Sun's Eye to name a few.  Some of this was singletrack, but a good part of it was on a wider path, like an old Jeep road, which led us around an area that looked like it may have been part of the uranium mining operations or other activities that once took place on this land.  I could be totally wrong about that, however.

Miles 37-46.5 (Mitchell Mesa out and back, to Hogan A/S, 4th time)

An old mine?  (Top of Mitchell Mesa)

I left for this out and back having no conception of how many miles it was.  There was a whiteboard at each aid station that said how far until the next aid station, but the one at Hogan, being the epicenter of so many different loops for different distances (100M, 50M, 50k, 25k), had way too much info for my tired brain at this point.  So I headed out with a pretty full bladder in my pack and plenty of gels.  I knew this would be a challenging bit, because we had to climb to the top of Mitchell Mesa, which looked like an impossible feat from the ground below.  It was an ascent of about 1,000 feet, coming at around mile 40 of the 50-mile race.  Okay, it's nothing compared to the Georgia Death Race ;), but between the altitude, the heat, and my current lack of fitness, I felt it -- my heart rate during the entire race was higher than Dr. Maffetone would recommend, and especially going up this steep climb.  But the views were breathtaking, and the echo when I yelled at the top beat even the echoes at Santa Elena Canyon in Big Bend.  After an equally steep return down the mesa, I did some calculations and realized that I needed to shift to another gear if I was going to finish sub-12 hours, which was my only major time goal for this race.  So I started pushing my pace and ran my fastest few miles back to the hogan.

Miles 46.5-50 (to Finish)
This 3.5-mile run on the "shoulder" of the unpaved road was not super enjoyable.  As the RD had warned us, it had just been graded, so the loose sand and dust continued to find its way into eyes, mouth, nose, etc. every time a car passed (which was frequently).  I could see The View hotel, near the start/finish, from a few miles away, and it never really seemed to look any closer every time I looked up at it.  There was a nice big hill up to the finish, which made the feeling of accomplishment when I came in that much better.  I was happy to see my friends and pick up a finisher's bracelet, handmade by a Navajo artist from leather and horsehair.  I enjoyed my freshly made Navajo taco as a recovery meal.  Then it was back to Goulding's Lodge for a shower, Navajo tea, and good conversation.  I was so tired that I couldn't even make use of the cassette tape/stereo built into the wall of our 3-bedroom unit for a celebratory dance party.  Maybe next time.

Oh, you can't play cassette tapes in the wall of your hotel?  I'm sorry.

3 Practical Questions Answered at Rocky Raccoon 100

Rocky Raccoon 100 was my first hundred-miler since Cactus Rose 100 last October, when I died a little bit and my soul left my body alone on the trail for awhile.  Okay, that's maybe a little over-dramatic, but I was apprehensive going into another hundred after that awful experience.

Fortunately, my wonderful parents came from Minnesota to visit and support me, and that gave me something to look forward to at the end of each loop.  I was a little scared that they would witness a total meltdown, but I was more excited for them to get to experience the atmosphere of a trail ultra and meet some of my awesome Rockhopper friends.  In the end, their encouragement, hugs, and enthusiasm helped me to a PR of about 3 hours.  In those 22+ hours, I learned the answers to three questions that I think will help me in future hundred-milers:

1. What helps you regain energy during a low spot?
On my last loop, around miles 85 through 88, I was really low on energy.  My dad was pacing me for that loop, which was amazing.  It was his first trail run, and I am so thankful he agreed to brave the dark and the roots to be with me.  In these miles, my power walk became slower and slower; my dad would stop and look back to make sure I was still behind him, because I was moving so slowly.  I just felt like I had nothing in me.  Three things helped me get back on pace: 1) I had half a cup of potato soup at Damnation aid station (around mile 86), which was my first real food of the race; 2) I asked my dad to say the Rosary with me; and 3) I requested that my dad tell me the joke about the guy who ate beans, and he kindly agreed.  Here's the joke, in case you're interested:

On Joe's birthday, he left work a little early, because his wife promised him a special birthday meal at home.  On his way home, he passed a food truck that sold the best bean dishes.  Joe had a weakness for beans; he just loved to eat them, but his wife forbade this, since it caused some gastrointestinal problems in Joe.  "Heck," Joe thought to himself, "It's my birthday, I should treat myself.  I can pop in and out and get home in plenty of time, and my wife will never find out."  So Joe went in and ordered a plate of beans.  He ate every last one with relish, and it was so good that he went ahead and ordered a second plate.  After he finished, he drove home just in time for dinner with his wife.  

When Joe opened his front door, his wife met him at the threshold with a blindfold.  "Hi, Joe!  Happy birthday, honey.  Thanks for coming home early.  I've made a special dinner for you.  But I don't want you to see it quite yet."  She put the blindfold over his eyes, led him to the dining room, and got him seated, when just then, the phone rang.  She hesitated, and then said, "Sorry, I'd better answer it.  Just a second, sweetie, I'll be right back."  As the door closed behind her, Joe let out a sigh of relief, because he'd been feeling an immense sense of pressure in his lower abdomen, which had been building ever since he'd come in the front door, and he didn't think he could hold it much longer.  So as soon as his wife left the room, he let out one enormous fart -- and then a string of medium-sized farts.  That felt so good, to relieve that pressure, but it wasn't the end.  Here came another one -- whew!  That smelled so bad, Joe could have sworn it would cause the paint to start peeling from the walls.  Here came another big one, and then a chain of toots in quick succession.  Joe could vaguely hear the sounds of his wife's conversation coming to a close, so he really let go and gave it all he had, in a desperate attempt to clear all the gas from his bowels before his wife re-entered.  She could never know about his forbidden stop to the food truck.  He waved his hands, trying to fan the smell of rotten eggs from the air.

Seconds later, in came his wife.  He could hear her footsteps coming closer.   She leaned in, removed the blindfold, and there around the table were seated all of their closest friends.  "Surprise, honey!  Happy birthday!"

I don't tell it half as well as my dad, but you get the idea.  By the end of the joke, I was laughing and power-walking with gusto.  I continued drinking some soup at the remaining aid stations, and I was able to run it in at the end.  I think the prayers helped as much as anything.  And just being with my dad made the last loop the total opposite of last year's RR100 experience; it was a time of great joy, rather than lonely suffering.

2. How many gels do I actually take during a hundred-miler?
I've never really been disciplined enough in my gel-taking to track my gel use throughout a hundred.  But I did a pretty good job this time around of sticking to a schedule.  My best estimate is that I took 50 VFuel gels.  (4 hours x 2 per hour the first loop; 4 hours x 3 per hour for the next 3 loops; and probably about 6 during the last loop, at which point I switched over to eating soup from the aid stations.)

3. What's the best cross-training for a hundred-miler?
I really think the power-walking I did on a daily basis in the three weeks between Bandera 100K and Rocky 100 helped me during the race.  I ended up doing a lot of power-walking, starting in loop 3.  Loops 4 and 5 largely consisted of power-walking.  In my training, I clocked sub-13-minute miles walking, and I think that really paid off during the race.  Walking fast versus walking slow can really shave off a lot of time in the long run.  I also think that focusing on walking instead of running between these two races helped my recovery going into Rocky, something that I had vowed to improve from last year's experience.

I suppose one final thing I learned is that a pine cone works okay as toilet paper -- as long as you go in the right direction.  I still prefer rocks, though.

Cactus 100

"Don't quit, don''t quit, don't quit."
"Are you talking to me, or to yourself?"

Actually, I hadn't realized I was speaking out loud.  But I covered that up, saying, "Both of us. Let's not quit, Jean. Let's make them force us off the course because we miss the time cutoffs."
---

This is such a different race story than the one I had planned for myself.  It's only after a good night's sleep that I'm seeing any value in it at all.  Looking back, I have to admit it was quite an adventure, and I figured it's one worth writing up.  Here goes:

The first two loops (miles 0-50) felt great.  It got really warm out there -- a high of 84 and lots of direct sunlight.  I was well on track to meet my time goal, constantly looking at my watch and checking the paces I'd written on my arm.  My stomach felt great, and my feet only hurt in two hot spots.  As I left for the 3rd loop, Jazzy excitedly reported that I was 3rd female.  In reply, Scott Rabb said something that now seems quite prophetic: "There's a lot of race yet. A lot can happen."

The third loop still felt great -- Mike was a wonderful pacer, letting me take the lead and set the pace, reporting how long each mile took, and giving words of encouragement.  Towards the end of the loop I was slowing down a bit, but I was still running.  I was ecstatic at that, because I kept thinking back to last year's Cactus Rose, when I barely ran at all on the 3rd loop.  I kept saying things to Mike like, "Look!  I'm running at mile 70!" "Hey! I'm still running at mile 74!"  We saw Jason, Lise, Anabel, Don, and Edward, all the fast folks, and I felt good about where I was in comparison.

At mile 75, I dropped off Mike at the Lodge.  He had turned his ankle, which has given him problems for almost a year now, so he went off to ice it, and I left the comfort of the aid station for the darkness of loop 4 at 11:45pm.  I started off at a jog - - - and within the first couple miles, I was reduced to a slow walk.  That got slower.  And slower.  One runner who passed me during that stretch told me that he took a two-minute nap at the Lodge and elevated his feet, and now he felt like he had new legs.  So the last couple miles coming into Boyles, I told myself, When you get there, you can take a two-minute nap, and maybe that will be like hitting the "reset" button.  In the meantime, I took in some more calories, because when I saw Liza go by with Chris, she had told me "Eat food!"

Looking back, I wonder if the answer really was just a calorie deficit, or that I pushed myself too hard in the heat, or that it just wasn't my day.  All I know for sure is that lying down at Boyles only continued the downward spiral for me.  When I pulled in, Jean was sitting there with her pacers, having just emptied the contents of her stomach.  I laid down on the grass and promptly started shivering uncontrollably.  My teeth were chattering, I started moaning -- and Jean and I both started laughing at me.  It's strange, but in the midst of the darkness and pain we were both feeling, we laughed a lot during that hour we spent together at Boyles.  It's weird to say that we were "together," though, because I had my eyes closed the entire time, and I was on the floor while she was in a chair.  But I overheard her entire conversation with her pacers, and they overheard my random mumblings and apparently found them pretty funny.  Her pacer Lisa joked that she was going to Tweet some of my best lines.  I think that included comments like, "How can they sell food that tastes like crap?" which I said as I was forcing myself to eat a Stinger waffle.  Jean's comments about her situation were pretty funny, too.  I laughed so hard that I snorted a couple times.  But gradually the tone turned more sober.  Jean's pacers started talking about where their cars were parked.  Jean and I both started realizing there was a decision ahead of us.  I can honestly say that in the year and a half I've been running ultras, it has never once crossed my mind to quit a race.  But now I felt like quitting.  I've never understood how someone could run 80 miles and then quit -- you've come so far!  Why quit with only 20 miles left?  Well, now I get it.  I thought it over and decided that I would try to walk to Equestrian.  I didn't make the decision not to DNF at that point.  I gave myself the option to quit at Equestrian.  What I did decide was that I wouldn't quit yet.

Lisa, Jean's pacer, was kind enough to agree to pace me, since Jean was heading to her other pacer's vehicle.  Lisa and I took off at a slow walk.  She was great, telling me about her job, her family, and commenting on the difficulty of the course.  I don't think I was contributing much to the conversation.  After just 1.7 miles with her, I asked her if we could sit down.  We sat there in the middle of the trail for a minute or two.  And then I told her I needed to lie down for a while.  I told her to just go back to her car and leave me.  I thanked her for coming this far with me, but I didn't see the point in making her sit there while I fell apart.  She reluctantly left, and told me that when I was ready to move, I should consider moving back toward Boyles, because heading to Equestrian was much farther away.

Was this my lowest point in the race?  Telling other runners to please go around me, while I laid in the middle of the trail one and a half miles past Boyles?  Unfortunately, I wouldn't say that it was.  Eventually I got up and resumed my slow shuffle towards Equestrian.  Along the way, Tanya and Jason passed me.  Tanya looked great!  She was running down the hill towards Mount Fuji.  When I got to the bottom of Fuji, I looked up towards the top, realized I couldn't even see Tanya's light anymore, and I laid down again.  Yep, that was my lowest point.

Somehow I got to the top of that hill.  About 100 yards later, there I was curled up in the middle of the trail again.  I proceeded in this fashion until I made it to Equestrian, in what seemed an infinite amount of time since I'd left Boyles.  I told myself, Don't make a decision to quit until daylight.  Stumbling into that aid station, I was desperate for a warm place to lie down, and I was hoping that Jeannie would be around to take care of me.  I was blessed on both counts -- Jeannie gave me blankets and a mat to lie on, and when I continued shivering and shaking, she put me in the back of their car, turned the heat on for me, and let me sleep until daylight.  She said Rich and Doise were going to head out in the same direction, and that they wanted me to go with them.  I was noncommittal, because I wasn't sure I could make it.

A little while later, Liza crawled into the back of the Escalade and gave me some excellent advice. She said, "If you quit, you'll be mad at yourself tomorrow."  I told her that hypothetically, I wanted to finish still, but that I didn't think I could physically make it to Nachos, much less the full 15 miles to the finish line.  She responded, "I'm not going to lie.  It's going to take hours and hours to walk it.  I wish I could take some of those hours for you.  But if you quit now, you're going to regret it."  Wow.  Even typing that makes me tear up a bit.  She was right.

Jeannie and Rich had me drink Pedialyte and sip on Coke, and then I left my blankets and climbed out of the Escalade.  We began walking toward Nachos, Rich in the lead; me in the middle, not able to keep up with Rich; and Doise so kindly walking behind me, I think to make sure that I didn't collapse on the side of the road.  Every so often, we'd stop and rest in the shade of a tree, and Rich would give me two or three nuts, and Doise would force me to take a few swallows of water and Pedialyte.  Thankfully, there were only two big climbs in the last 15 miles -- Ice Cream and Lucky hills.  Still, every step was difficult.  Thank goodness for the trekking poles Rich lent me; they really did help.

Jeannie met us at Nachos, with Rich's famous ice bandanas.  Rich tied one around my neck, as it was really starting to heat up in the sun.  He also put one on top of my head.  They fed me cashews and Coke.  It was great seeing Ed Brown there, on his way to a belt buckle.  He took off back towards the Equestrian Aid station, and we left shortly after him, but with my slow pace, we lost sight of him immediately.  This was a stretch where I had to ask them if I could lie down in the shade for a two-minute nap.  Rich was so kind to stay with me, when he could have finished hours before me.  And Doise was an angel to pace us both, so cheerfully.

At Equestrian, we sat in chairs for a few minutes, eating a little.  Joe Prusaitis, the race director, pulled up on his ATV and asked for a Coke.  He chatted a bit, and I jokingly said, "Do you have one of those nice, shiny Tejas 400 buckles at the finish?"  To which he responded, "Yeah, I do.  And I was all set to hand you a 3rd place trophy at the finish."  I put my hand to my head at that comment.  Joe meant it so kindly, but it just reminded me of all I had lost during this race.  He continued, "All your buddies were at the finish line cheering for you.  That South African was making bird calls; he said they were Julie calls.  It was really pretty cool, actually."  And that, my friends, is the first time I've wanted to cry during an ultra.  Just to imagine how great that would have been, to finish and have my friends cheering for me, to know that I met my goals. . . . and to feel like I disappointed them as well as myself.  Yep, that is a sad feeling.  But don't worry, I didn't cry in front of Joe.

We got up and started walking toward the Lodge -- that last 4.5 or so miles to the finish line.  Towards the start of this stretch, I realized that I was beginning to feel more like myself.  The fogginess in my mind was clearing.  Whereas for the last 15 or so miles (read, 12 hours or so), I had felt like an empty shell, now I felt like a real person -- an exhausted, totally spent person -- but still.  I was able to pick up my walking pace a little -- I still couldn't keep pace with Rich's hike, but at least I wasn't slowing him down quite so much.  As we walked, I began remembering silly things from the previous hours, like when I had told Liza that I was doing 1-minute miles.  Yeah, that was not what I meant to say.  And when I told Tony that I was dying, and he could have my stereo.  :)

Up until this race, I was able to say that I'd never cried at a finish line.  I can't say that any more.  When Joyce handed me my buckles, she and I both cried.  I told her, that last loop took me 16 hours.  She was so kind, telling me that what Rich, Doise, and I did reminded her and Joe why they did these events.  I wish I could say I cried because I was proud of myself for persevering and finishing, but that would be a lie.  All I felt at the finish line was relief that it was finally over, and disappointment about what could have been.  Lise, the female winner, came over and congratulated me for digging so deep, and I embarrassingly started crying again, while I tried to tell her thank you and congratulations.  I cried all the way home, I cried last night trying to tell my parents about the race, and I cried while typing this.  Go buy stock in Kleenex!

In the light of a new morning, with many hours of sleep between me and the race, and many kind words from friends, I can definitely see the value of the decisions not to quit. I say decisions, because it wasn't a one-time decision that I had to make.  It was a decision every step, to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  And it wasn't just my decision; it was the decisions of Rich and Doise to stick with me and help me get there, of Jeannie to selflessly take care of me, of Liza to come sit with me and give me advice, of all the others who gave me words of encouragement.

It sure wasn't the race I wanted to have, but I am thankful for everything I learned.  Most importantly, I learned how very selfless and generous others can be, and what true friendship looks like.  I am so blessed to be part of the Rockhopper family.  And I'm blessed to get to participate in events like this, which push us to our limits and let us dare greatly.

---
Thanks to Rich, who reminded me of this quote while we tackled the powerlines section of the course:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." - Theodore Roosevelt

Top ten things I learned from Liza that helped me to a PR

VO2 max runs are important.  The only way to get faster is to run faster.

It's better to run individual miles fast, even if you need a break between them, than to run continuously at a slower pace.

Run your race at a "comfortably uncomfortable" pace.

Don't be afraid to push harder earlier on in a race.

It's okay to do 1-2 warm up miles before a marathon.  We're ultra-runners, after all!

Do a few 30-second strides the day before a race.

Getting down to "race weight" can be really helpful in shaving time.

Lighten your load.  Run with as little "stuff" as possible. 

Don't over-hydrate.

If we can practice suffering gracefully during a run, when we're choosing to experience pain, we'll be better equipped to face real-life suffering with grace.

(She also taught me that even the busiest of people can find a way to get their training in -- but I'm still working on that.)

And one thing I learned from Edward: wear two pairs of socks.  No blisters!

Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim Adventure

It's been a few weeks now since our double crossing of the Grand Canyon.  Since then, I've been on a couple other trips and haven't found the time to write up a report.  I did want to write up some of the trip logistics, if for no other purpose than to aid me in preparing for the next time I run this route, since it was so amazing!

The Run
Our group met around 3:30am on Friday, May 16.  We planned the run for Friday, so that in case the weather didn't cooperate on Friday, we could still do it Saturday before going home on Sunday.  Our friends shuttled us from the Maswik Lodge to the South Rim trail.

We started down the South Rim trail around 4:00am.  I hiked pretty much the whole way down, to save my quads for the rest of the 48-mile trip.  Later on, I was very glad that I did this.  I had no issues other than sore calves the day after.

We crossed the black bridge over the Colorado River and headed to Phantom Ranch.  For fun, we each weighed our packs.  Mine was the heaviest in our group, at 15 pounds.  Our next water stop was at Cottonwood Campground; then the Pump House shortly after.  The trip from there up to Supai Tunnel felt like a long one.  We had to make our way past a ranger who did her best to encourage us to stop on the North Rim.  Fortunately, we managed to resist her.  From Supai Tunnel to the North Rim was quite steep.

We spent a long time resting at the North Rim.  Running back down, through Supai Tunnel, past the Pump House and Cottonwood, was really fun.  We took a detour to Ribbon Falls, which was surreal.  To see a beautiful waterfall, moss-covered rocks, and croaking frogs at the bottom of the Grand Canyon was unexpected.  I continued to feel good running to Phantom Ranch and then to the Bright Angel trail.  I mostly ran separately from my group and waited for them every couple miles.  We crossed the silver bridge over the Colorado and headed up towards the South Rim.

Ribbon Falls

Darkness fell as Chris and I, now separate from the rest of our foursome, headed toward Indian Gardens.  We waited at Indian Gardens for the rest of our group (which was down to two other people by this time), and then we decided to go in pairs the rest of the way.  It seemed incredibly steep, but I followed the old adage of "relentless forward progress" and remained a couple minutes behind Chris until we neared the top.  He waited for me so we could run in the final few yards.  Jeannie was there at the top to meet us and see us back safely to the lodge.

The goal of our trip was to enjoy the experience and successfully complete the run.  We definitely accomplished that.  My goal for next time will be to see how quickly I can do it.  This time around, we spent a lot of time at rest stops or waiting for other people.  That was fun for the first time, but now I'm already excited to go back again.

Me and Chris celebrating our finish

Packing

Before our Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim trip, I tried to do some research online to find out what food and gear others had found helpful.  I didn't find much out there in terms of packing lists, so I'll include mine here in case it's helpful to others.  My post-run thoughts are in blue.

In Large Solomon Pack:

• Bladder
• 2 x H20 bottles (Since the pumps were turned on, I had more than enough water. I would've been fine with just my bladder and one bottle.)
• Clif bars -- 5
• gels -- 5 (I ended up not eating any of my gels -- but I did donate them to a friend who was going through his calories more quickly than anticipated.)
• chocolate-covered pretzels (These were probably my favorite food during the run, because they were both sweet and salty.)
• Medjool dates
• Nuun -- 2 bottles (I used Nuun in my water bottles, but not in my bladder. I think using Nuun and drinking to thirst helped me avoid hyponatremia.)
• yogurt-covered raisins (These, along with two Clif bars and a couple gels, were the only foods I had left going up the South Rim. They tasted gross in the middle of the night, but I force-fed them to myself anyway.)
• Bobo bars (These tasted good but were a little dry.)
• dried mangos
• trail mix (I wish I had packed more trail mix. It tasted great.)
• sunscreen (I re-applied frequently, and didn't get burned!)
• shades
• trekking poles, tied with bungee to pack (I used these on the way down South Rim, and I think they helped -- just because they provided some stability in the darkness on the rutted, uneven trail. I also used them on the way up North Rim, and they helped there with all the big step-ups.)
• tylenol, ibuprofin, Tums (I ended up using two Tylenol during the run.)
• camera and extra batteries

Wear:

• Headlamp (new batteries)
• buff (Once it got hot, I started soaking my buff in creeks and under water pumps every chance I got; I wore it around my neck.)
• Outdoor Research Sombriolet hat
• New Balance shorts
• two pair socks (injinji, Wigwam)
• sports bra
• Captn Karl's shirt (cotton/poly blend)
• hairtie
• vasoline
• sunscreen
• Garmin (charged)
• light jacket (It turned out to be so warm that I really didn't need to start with a jacket. But I felt good having it just in case. And by the time we finished, it was really cold and windy up on the South Rim, so I was glad to have the jacket while we waited for our friends to finish.)
• trail Hokas
• Dirty Girl gaitors
• fitness gloves, to prevent blisters when using poles

During the run, I don't think there was anything I missed and wished I had brought.  I didn't bring my cell phone, because there are only a few places where you can get reception, anyway.

All in all, the trip was a resounding success.  Praise be to God for good weather, good health, and great friends!

Warning! Don't try to hike to the river and back in one day!

Bandera 100K

Usually after a race, I just jot some bullet points about the highlights, but this time I'm going to try to actually write a short narrative about yesterday's race.  It always amazes me how some people write such detailed accounts of their races.  Like, "As I approached McGillicutty Aid Station for the third time, around mile 17.85, I burped twice and readjusted my hydration pack." I don't know how these people do it.  I have such a terrible memory, races are just one big blur to me.  But here's what I remember from the 2014 Bandera 100K:

The morning of the race, temps were in the 40s.  I had slept in my car, so it was a short walk to the start.  It was great to see lots Rockhoppers there: Elizabeth, Fumi, Jean, Michelle, Tanya, Jason, Cara, Joe T, Liza, and Lorenzo.  I also enjoyed seeing some of the Alamo Running Buddies -- Doug, Jazzy, Emmett -- who were running the Lodge aid station.

The first highlight of the race came during the conga line up to Sky Island.  Runners were starting to thin out a bit, but there were still several of us running in the same pack on the singletrack.  A guy behind me asked, "So you must be Julie?" I said yes, although I have no idea how he knew who I was -- I had no identification on my back.  He said, "So you got 3rd place at Cactus Rose?"  I laughed, and thought to myself, "Enjoy this moment, because the 5 seconds this conversation lasts, will be your only moment of running fame."  :)  That was fun.  The next highlight was getting to Nachos aid station and seeing all the welcoming Rockhoppers -- especially Tom in his Nacho Libre ensemble.

Once the sun came up, it warmed up into the 70s. With the sun on us, it felt quite hot.  As I lumbered up a fairly steep hill, Michelle caught up to me and asked, "Julie, are you doing all right?" I hadn't realized it until she said that, but I must have been struggling and not looking great.  Michelle is so wonderful -- so kind and generous.  It was great to finish that Sisters loop in conversation with her.

Other than that brief low-energy point, I really feel like I nailed my nutrition at this race.  I've never been able to say that before.  I didn't eat any real food during the race -- just 2 gels per hour and 2 sips of EFS slurry per hour -- plus a cup or so of Coke at aid stations.  It's not that the gels tasted any more palatable this time around, or that I never felt queasy, but I just told myself I was going to take the gels, and that's that, no excuses.  I used my SJ Ultimate Direction pack (I saw a bunch of those packs at the race!) with one bottle of plain water and one bottle of EFS slurry.  I originally started with a bladder, as well, but I took it out and asked Claudette to throw it away at the first aid station -- I wasn't getting any suction from it, and it annoyed me.

At the Lodge, after the first loop, the thought crossed my mind that I still had 31 miles left to go.  I thought to myself, that is insane; so many miles!  Right after leaving the Lodge, as I started the second loop, I caught myself worrying about how many miles were left, and how many aid stations, and how many hours left of running . . . and then for some reason I thought of the final scene in Fargo, when the murderer is in the back seat of the squad car, and Margie the cop tells him she doesn't understand why he did such terrible things . . . "And it's a beautiful day."  The scene is darkly humorous, because the landscape is a bleak Northern Minnesota whiteout.  But thinking about that scene, I realized that I could have a negative attitude, like I was doing, or a positive one, like Margie.  And it was a beautiful day, truly -- sunshine, hills, cactus, warmth.  So I chose to be positive.

The sunset was absolutely gorgeous, outlining the hills with yellows, oranges and reds.  Once the sun was gone, the temps dropped pretty precipitously, probably down to 40s again. I felt cold until my sweat dried. Thankfully I had armwarmers in my drop bag at Crossroads, and I was able to pick them up just before the sun set.  Around this time, my throat became sore and my lungs started hurting whenever I took a deep breath.  I thought I was getting sick from the cold/hot/cold changes during the race, but maybe it's a Mountain Cedar allergy, as Elizabeth thinks.

In the darkness, heading towards Boyle's aid station, a coyote pack began howling to beat the band.  I don't worry about running into a coyote or two, but from the sounds I was hearing, I pictured a band of two dozen bloodthirsty coyotes anxious to prey on any lonely runner who crossed their path. :) Okay, I wasn't that worried, just a little bit.

After I made the choice to have a positive attitude, early on in that second loop, I acknowledged that the outcome of the race was in God's hands, and I should leave it there and not worry about it.  I felt confident that He would take care of me every moment of the race, if I just gave Him my best effort at each moment. And I really tried to do that, and be mindful of that for the rest of the race.  Every so often, I would catch myself thinking about the miles and hours ahead, but then He would reel me back to the present and I would just ask, "Am I doing my very best right now?"  And I was amazed at how strong I was able to run.  I really think, at least on that 2nd and final loop, that I gave it my best effort at every moment.

I was happy to see the really fast people already in the tent at the finish line -- Jason C, Liza, Brian, Tanya (who kicked butt!), as well as Claudette, Stefan, and Emmett, who had been volunteering.  And I was very happy that -- unlike after the Capt'n Karl's races or Cactus Rose -- I got to go home and sleep in my own bed that night.

I hope that not just in my future runs, but also in everyday life, I can remember what I learned during this race and live in the present moment, not worrying about the future or the past, just giving my best effort right now.
Congratulations to all runners, and thank you to all the volunteers!

Fargo clip -- the quote is around 1:10