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