Let's start at the beginning ... 10 years ago .... just kidding, we're only going to backtrack to the week prior to the race. I spent my last week of taper as a mess of nerves, fears, excitement, anticipation, worry and crazy. It got to the point where the only thing I wanted was to hear the word "GO" at the start line. I wanted to run away from the taper madness that had engulfed my spirit. I was tired of the anticipation. My stomach was a constant ball of knots. Just start this race already!
Eventually, race weekend was upon us and I was able to curb some of the crazy by loading up the camper and gathering everything I thought I could possibly need for my journey. I took my daughter to the grocery store with me to load up on supplies. I had heard it's nice to have some of your favorite treats waiting for you in your drop bag - incentive to keep running to the drop bag. My daughter thought she was on the best grocery store run of her life. She had hit the jackpot! Mom was buying up the $1.00 movie box sized candy (Jr. Mints, Mike&Ikes, Swedish Fish, you get the picture). I bought donuts and cookies and Pringles. I also threw Coconut Water, fresh pineapple and apples into my cart. It was a lovely mixture of healthy and not so healthy. For the record, I didn't want any of those treats at the aid stations. Nor did I want them two days after. I inhaled them three days post race but I digress.
We dropped our kids off with my parents on Saturday morning and my husband and I, with the camper in tow, headed to the Blue Sky RV Park where I'd made reservations. Yes, an RV Park. Full hook ups. I wanted luxury accommodations - that means power, water and sewer so I could shower in my own space. The park was actually quite nice. Lots of trees and a view.
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| View from our camper |
My husband and I drove back to Issaquah and enjoyed dinner out at The Ram Restaurant where I ordered the salmon, quinoa/rice and veggie meal. It was delicious and made for a good pre-race dinner. Our waitress was a kick. She commented that she liked the shirt I was wearing because she had just run a half marathon and loved the Keep Going sentiment. I replied that's why I was wearing it, motivation for a race! I found out she'd also just run the Paris Marathon. As you can imagine, we connected and had a fun time chatting about running. In fact, every time she'd swing by our table more conversation would ensue. If you're reading this, waitress from Ram, I'm sorry I didn't make it back in to tell you how it went. My body refused to do anything but find my bed after the run. :)
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| My friend Mary gave me this shirt. It's her slogan and I love it. Keep Going, Mary! |
We arrived back at our camper and I went to work setting out everything I'd need, packing my drop bags, writing up cheat notes for each drop bag of things to check - shoes, socks, chafing, food, items I needed to toss or replace in my pack, etc. I never looked at those lists during the race but I think the process of writing helped me to recall what I needed from each bag. Then it was time to finalize my race outfit. The weather had been overly hot in the days prior but race day was calling for cooler temps as well as rain showers, thunderstorms, and sun breaks with mostly cloudy skies. In other words, expect it all. I wore my Skirt Sports Cascade Skirt, my Hamster Endurance shirt (it would remind me I can run for 12 hours), arm warmers, compression sleeves, my Skirt Sports Skirt Breaker Jacket and my Maniac Buff and Double Agent visor. It wound up being a good combo for the days weather. I also packed extra dry clothes, socks, shoes and my 2nd Skirt Breaker Jacket in my drop bag.
Once that was settled it was time to sleep. I set my alarm for the scary hour of 3:00 a.m., well, actually, 2:55, in case I wanted a snooze. Of course, there was no getting back to sleep once that alarm went off. There wasn't much sleep before the alarm went off either. Yes, it was the typical restless sleep one experiences before a big race. Happily, getting up wasn't as big a struggle as I had feared. Adrenaline was already at work. I had my coffee, checked the weather, posted a photo to Instagram and Facebook and set to work getting dressed and ready. Around 4:00 my husband joined me in the unholy hours of darkness. He's such a good guy! At 4:30 it was time to head to the race for the 5:00 a.m. early start for us slowpokes.
We arrived to a dark parking lot with a few people meandering about. I asked some folks where the start was, where the drop bag location was and then then bathrooms. It was all nearby and before I knew it, I was at the start line with 10-15 other people, waiting in the darkness with my little flashlight (we couldn't find the headlamp), waiting to go. This was it. I was finally going to outrun the taper crazy and start this journey. I was more excited than nervous now. I was ready! Let's do this! They had a volunteer lead us out on the short section through town to the Snoqualmie Valley Trail. It wasn't very long and we were met with a staircase leading up to the trail. Yes, a tall staircase. I commented to the person beside me, "I suppose we have to come back down that thing at the very end, huh?" The reply was "yep". Well, onward and forward and upward we went. At this point I hadn't quite figured out how much upward was ahead of me.
The trail was your typical rails to trail path, gravel and compact dirt. My tiny flashlight (about the size of my finger) did a pretty good job of lighting my path and yet remaining unobtrusive in my hand. In fact, in the end, I think it was easier to deal with than a headlamp would have been. I only needed it for about 45 minutes and then it was easy to stuff in my pocket and never think of again. It was fun running in the burgeoning morning hours, all was quiet except for footfalls, breathing and the conversation of those around me. There weren't many of us and the field spread out very quickly. I was on my own just a couple miles in but that was okay. I enjoyed watching the bunnies jump across my path and one actually hopped beside me for a little ways. I came to the first Aid Station at 5.5 miles which was still being set up. No biggie, I was well supplied with my own stuff. I did borrow their table to set my Orange Mud pack on while I put my jacket in the cord lock. It was a fairly warm morning and I didn't need the jacket.
I recall looking at my watch and seeing it read a little after 6:00 a.m. and thinking how weird that I'd been running for over an hour already and I'm usually still in bed. I'm not one of those who runs in the early hours. In fact, I'd never run this early before in my life! I'd been up this early, of course, but most races don't start until at least 7:00. It was around this time also that I noticed my pinkie toe on my right foot was starting to hurt. If you read my last blog post you saw that I was having issues with blisters, seemingly out of nowhere, and had been frantically trying to find a method to prevent them. I had settled on a combination of Engo Patches and Surgical Tape. I had also decided to put my orthotics back in my shoes in case it was a pronation issue. I had stopped using the orthotics in my Hokas because A. they cramped my toes in one particular pair and B. they were more comfortable without the dumb orthotics and up until the blister I'd been feeling good without them. The Hokas I was wearing race morning had not been a problem with the orthotics in the past so I figured it wouldn't be a problem. Lo and behold, it was a problem. It wasn't super painful but I knew there was no way I could run 43 + more miles in them with my toe getting progressively more squished or rubbed or whatever was going on. In a way, this wasn't terrible as it gave me a goal and focus to reach the 15.5 mile aid station where my Altra shoes awaited me. My mantra for those miles was, "Get to the shoes, get to the shoes". I could just imagine my toes spreading out in the extra room of the Altras. Ahhh....
The 15.5 mile aid station and my drop bag finally were in sight ... just down a steep decline. The only decline I'd yet seen on this course. I happily let gravity take control for a bit and ignored the sight of all those walking back up. I wasn't going to think about that yet. I was thinking, "get to the shoes!" I recall also briefly realizing that this was the 50K turnaround. Wow. That came quick. I recall how far 15.5 miles felt in my last 50K and here I was, barely started on my journey to 50 miles, no where near my turnaround. Perspective is a crazy thing.
I'm not going to regale you with details of how fast (slow, ha!) each of my miles were or all the tidbits of each one of them. I have enough details here without all that extra stuff but I do know the mile that included this aid station was immensely long-22 plus minutes. Ugh! I have got to learn how to move through these things quicker. I'm realizing it's a lot like learning how to quickly move through a transition in a triathlon. You have to take some time but it's easy to take too much time. That said, I needed this break to not only swap my shoes but to also use the potty and refill my water bottle and restock my pack. It simply took time and considering my toe felt 100% better after made it all worth it.
I was now on my way back up the steep decline and back on the Iron Horse Trail, which we'd fed onto from the Snoqualmie Trail a few miles back. It was here that I started getting really frustrated with my pace. I could not pick up speed for the life of me. What was going on? And then it dawned on me - duh - this was all uphill but it was more uphill than my silly brain had anticipated. I knew the first 25 miles were spent gaining 2200 ft in elevation but for some reason, I figured since it had 25 miles in which to gain it, I wouldn't notice the uphill so much. I've run numerous other rails to trails with steady uphill gain and I just sort of figured this would be like that. Can we say "duh" again? Or stupid, stupid, stupid? Later, when my husband joined me I commented on how badly I had underestimated the uphill and he said, "Pam, those other trails only gain like 200 ft. This is a lot more than that!" Yea, I know that now. Ha ha ha. Anyway, once I made peace with the fact that I was going to be climbing for a lot longer and my pace was simply not going to pick up I decided to use it. Go easy. Don't push. Save my energy for the return trip when I had the decline to my advantage. I could pick up my pace on the way back if I still had energy to do it so my new mantra was conserve, conserve, conserve! Since I was already going slow I decided it was perfectly fine to stop and take a few photos. It was a beautiful area, after all.
This was a fun portion of the course because the relay people were out and about passing me up with zeal and fresh legs but also, most of the time, with words of encouragement. This is also when the faster regular start 50 milers began to pass me, also exchanging words of encouragement. One of the relay runner's saw me taking a selfie and offered to take my photo. Very kind of her to give up a bit of her finish time for me!
Eventually the relay runners were all gone and it was just us 50 milers. Another Maniac caught up with me and we chatted for a half mile or so about the uphill climb and what a great course this is for the Tunnel Marathon when it's all downhill. I'm going to have to do that marathon one of these years. Eventually, I took a walk break and she charged ahead. She would be my focus point for the next few miles. I knew the turnaround was somewhere up ahead and I knew when I saw her again I'd be close. Can I say it felt like it took both of us days to reach that turnaround? Up, up, up I climbed, passed one guy and exchanged "you've got this" and "can't wait for downhill" pleasantries. And still on and on and on I ran. My Garmin was ticking ever closer to 25 miles and I started to look for the turnaround. Up around that bend, perhaps? No. I hadn't seen my friendly Maniac on her return trip yet nor any of the others that I knew were just ahead of me. One by one they started to emerge and yet I still climbed, longing to be one of them on the downhill and second half of the course. Mentally, I was ready to know I was halfway done. I finally saw my searched for Maniac and she said, "It's just around the bend". Oh thank goodness! My watch had passed 25 miles a mile back. And yet, it wasn't that bend. Or the next bend. My watch was reading about 26.5 miles by the time I finally saw the blessed, glorious, promising turnaround sign. Hallelujah!
I felt a burst of adrenaline and energy shoot through me as I flipped around and suddenly my pace picked up. Oh, happy day! Downhill baby!!!! A little ways down I saw the guy I'd passed, "It's just up ahead". I told him. Not much farther and I came upon two more runners behind me. They asked me where the turnaround was. Perhaps I wasn't the only one whose Garmin was telling them the turnaround should have been 1.5 miles back? Ha. I promised it was just up ahead, half way across the bridge.
The trail was your typical rails to trail path, gravel and compact dirt. My tiny flashlight (about the size of my finger) did a pretty good job of lighting my path and yet remaining unobtrusive in my hand. In fact, in the end, I think it was easier to deal with than a headlamp would have been. I only needed it for about 45 minutes and then it was easy to stuff in my pocket and never think of again. It was fun running in the burgeoning morning hours, all was quiet except for footfalls, breathing and the conversation of those around me. There weren't many of us and the field spread out very quickly. I was on my own just a couple miles in but that was okay. I enjoyed watching the bunnies jump across my path and one actually hopped beside me for a little ways. I came to the first Aid Station at 5.5 miles which was still being set up. No biggie, I was well supplied with my own stuff. I did borrow their table to set my Orange Mud pack on while I put my jacket in the cord lock. It was a fairly warm morning and I didn't need the jacket.
I recall looking at my watch and seeing it read a little after 6:00 a.m. and thinking how weird that I'd been running for over an hour already and I'm usually still in bed. I'm not one of those who runs in the early hours. In fact, I'd never run this early before in my life! I'd been up this early, of course, but most races don't start until at least 7:00. It was around this time also that I noticed my pinkie toe on my right foot was starting to hurt. If you read my last blog post you saw that I was having issues with blisters, seemingly out of nowhere, and had been frantically trying to find a method to prevent them. I had settled on a combination of Engo Patches and Surgical Tape. I had also decided to put my orthotics back in my shoes in case it was a pronation issue. I had stopped using the orthotics in my Hokas because A. they cramped my toes in one particular pair and B. they were more comfortable without the dumb orthotics and up until the blister I'd been feeling good without them. The Hokas I was wearing race morning had not been a problem with the orthotics in the past so I figured it wouldn't be a problem. Lo and behold, it was a problem. It wasn't super painful but I knew there was no way I could run 43 + more miles in them with my toe getting progressively more squished or rubbed or whatever was going on. In a way, this wasn't terrible as it gave me a goal and focus to reach the 15.5 mile aid station where my Altra shoes awaited me. My mantra for those miles was, "Get to the shoes, get to the shoes". I could just imagine my toes spreading out in the extra room of the Altras. Ahhh....
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| Still wearing Hokas |
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| Smiling for the camera |
The 15.5 mile aid station and my drop bag finally were in sight ... just down a steep decline. The only decline I'd yet seen on this course. I happily let gravity take control for a bit and ignored the sight of all those walking back up. I wasn't going to think about that yet. I was thinking, "get to the shoes!" I recall also briefly realizing that this was the 50K turnaround. Wow. That came quick. I recall how far 15.5 miles felt in my last 50K and here I was, barely started on my journey to 50 miles, no where near my turnaround. Perspective is a crazy thing.
I'm not going to regale you with details of how fast (slow, ha!) each of my miles were or all the tidbits of each one of them. I have enough details here without all that extra stuff but I do know the mile that included this aid station was immensely long-22 plus minutes. Ugh! I have got to learn how to move through these things quicker. I'm realizing it's a lot like learning how to quickly move through a transition in a triathlon. You have to take some time but it's easy to take too much time. That said, I needed this break to not only swap my shoes but to also use the potty and refill my water bottle and restock my pack. It simply took time and considering my toe felt 100% better after made it all worth it.
I was now on my way back up the steep decline and back on the Iron Horse Trail, which we'd fed onto from the Snoqualmie Trail a few miles back. It was here that I started getting really frustrated with my pace. I could not pick up speed for the life of me. What was going on? And then it dawned on me - duh - this was all uphill but it was more uphill than my silly brain had anticipated. I knew the first 25 miles were spent gaining 2200 ft in elevation but for some reason, I figured since it had 25 miles in which to gain it, I wouldn't notice the uphill so much. I've run numerous other rails to trails with steady uphill gain and I just sort of figured this would be like that. Can we say "duh" again? Or stupid, stupid, stupid? Later, when my husband joined me I commented on how badly I had underestimated the uphill and he said, "Pam, those other trails only gain like 200 ft. This is a lot more than that!" Yea, I know that now. Ha ha ha. Anyway, once I made peace with the fact that I was going to be climbing for a lot longer and my pace was simply not going to pick up I decided to use it. Go easy. Don't push. Save my energy for the return trip when I had the decline to my advantage. I could pick up my pace on the way back if I still had energy to do it so my new mantra was conserve, conserve, conserve! Since I was already going slow I decided it was perfectly fine to stop and take a few photos. It was a beautiful area, after all.
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| Love how this photo turned out |
This was a fun portion of the course because the relay people were out and about passing me up with zeal and fresh legs but also, most of the time, with words of encouragement. This is also when the faster regular start 50 milers began to pass me, also exchanging words of encouragement. One of the relay runner's saw me taking a selfie and offered to take my photo. Very kind of her to give up a bit of her finish time for me!
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| Much better than a selfie! |
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| I found it! |
I ran along happily for the next few miles, stopped to use the bathroom, stopped to refill my water bottle (I did that about every 10 miles), and continued to enjoy the scenery. Something that really impressed me about this race was how the race volunteers/directors made a point to call me by name when they saw me. More than once, a volunteer drove past in a truck, checking on us runners. "How ya doing, Pam?" I would assure him just fine and he'd say, "You're doing a great job, Pam." At aid stations, the volunteers would all refer to me by my name, too. It was a nice touch.
I haven't talked about my fueling much at all. I used Tailwind for the most part. I have a hard time eating real food when I'm running. I'm not hungry and it just never sounds good to me. Tailwind has been a great way to get all my electrolytes and calories in a drinkable form. I supplemented with a few boiled potatoes dipped in salt at the aid stations because amazingly, they do taste good to me on a long run. I also had four Isagenix AMP Fuel packs, which have an apple sauce consistency/flavor, and I'm finding are easier to eat than a sticky gu, as well as about 3 shots of Isagenix E+ shots (Caffeine, Vit B etc) spread throughout the course. This served me pretty well. My hands were getting puffy toward the later miles so I think next time I'll add another scoop of Tailwind to my water mixture in case I still need a bit more salt or perhaps I'll experiment more with salt tabs. It could be a matter of blood simply pooling in my hands. I'm not sure which is the cause exactly but never felt like I was getting low on electrolytes or sick in any way. I felt pretty darn good other than normal expected fatigue.
These miles my focus was on getting back to the 34.5 mile aid station where I knew my husband would be waiting for me. I'm not sure what all I thought about during all these long miles. I spent some time praying and some time remembering some scripture verses but for the most part, my brain went into mantra mode or la la land. 12 hours to think about stuff and my brain goes on a mental vacation. Whatever gets ya through, I guess. I know I was obsessing a bit too much over my watch which was still telling me I had gone farther than all the aid stations were telling me. I cannot stress enough how annoying that was for me. I began to lose track of how far I had to go to reach my husband. This is also when the rain storms began. I was fine temperature wise and didn't bother to grab my jacket even though the rain was pouring. I knew I had dry clothes in my drop bag if I wanted to change.
These miles my focus was on getting back to the 34.5 mile aid station where I knew my husband would be waiting for me. I'm not sure what all I thought about during all these long miles. I spent some time praying and some time remembering some scripture verses but for the most part, my brain went into mantra mode or la la land. 12 hours to think about stuff and my brain goes on a mental vacation. Whatever gets ya through, I guess. I know I was obsessing a bit too much over my watch which was still telling me I had gone farther than all the aid stations were telling me. I cannot stress enough how annoying that was for me. I began to lose track of how far I had to go to reach my husband. This is also when the rain storms began. I was fine temperature wise and didn't bother to grab my jacket even though the rain was pouring. I knew I had dry clothes in my drop bag if I wanted to change.
Finally, I saw the turn down the steep decline to my drop bag and husband. Happy, happy, happy! I had called my husband earlier and asked him to bring me my Mizuno shoes. I'd never run that far in my Altras and with the zero drop, I was concerned with how the long miles were going to affect my muscles. I had planned on changing shoes again ever since that call but now I faltered. I knew how long it had taken me to change shoes last time but my husband encouraged me to play it safe, especially with the blisters. A change of shoes can't hurt, only help. There was no where to sit so he helped me get my shoes off and the new ones on. My socks were still fairly dry so I stuck with them. I took another bathroom break while he filled my water bottle for me and mixed my Tailwind concoction. By this time I was soaked to the bone and the rain had eased up. I figured feeling dry, at least on top, was worth a little more time lost, though it was an internal struggle to give that time up. There was a male runner there who had also put on a dry shirt. I announced, "I'm stripping" and peeled off my arm warmers and shirt while my husband grabbed out my dry ones. The other runner told a story of one race he'd been in where lots of people were changing. All of a sudden he noticed there was a sports bra on the ground. At some point some woman had said, "to heck with it" and he hadn't even noticed and he said if he had noticed, he'd been too tired to care. We all laughed at his honesty. I assured my husband I was not going to strip that far down. My bra was staying on! However, I could understand getting to a point where you throw caution to the wind and just don't care because you're cold and tired. I figure it's like childbirth that way though I don't ever see myself going there. Too modest! Needless to say, my dry shirt felt awesome! I also swapped my unworn but still soaking wet rain jacket for the dry jacket I'd packed. I was finally ready to head back out on the trail and my husband and I began the steep climb up to the trail. This stop made for a 25 minute mile. Ugh, ugh! More practice needed here!
These next few miles were some of my favorite miles. I'm so grateful to my husband for agreeing to pace me. I had deliberated over and over whether or not I really needed him to pace me. I had run the Hamster 12 hour by myself and had done just fine (though to be fair, I always had someone to talk to on that course). I had run my 50K's alone and was fine. I was pretty sure I could have run the entire 50 miles by myself if I'd had to but... I didn't have to and others encouraged me to use the pacer advantage, so I did. I'm glad I listened and I'm glad he agreed. It was nice to have a solid chunk of time to talk with my husband without kids around or work day exhaustion hanging over his head. Plus, he's an engineer and good with math which meant, as my brain was getting tired and foggy and my ability to do math decreased by the second (I say that like I can do math when I'm not tired) his brain was able to track the pace I'd need to maintain in order to complete the race before the 12 hour cutoff. I think that's where his presence was invaluable to me. I'm sure I would have miscalculated without him and I really wanted to come in before 12 hours. He also lifted my burden, literally, by carrying my hydration pack for me. He slung it over his forearm and other than maybe 3 or 4 miles, he carried it the entire remaining miles for me. My hero!
Up until I met my husband I had been running a fairly consistent run/walk pattern. The first few miles in the valley when it was more level, I used a 6:1 pattern. When the uphill section began I dropped to a 4:10 run and 1:20 walk pattern. Why the odd numbers? The extra 10 seconds running were because I accidentally kept scrolling past 4 minutes when trying to set my watch and finally decided 10 seconds extra was good enough. The walking portion was because in training I had found the extra 20 seconds gave me just enough time to drop my heart rate quite a bit lower and feel more recovered before running again. I was able to maintain this pattern for a few miles with my husband but around 40 miles my IT band started bothering me and I'd have to stop to a walk a little more frequently, I was doing more of a 3:2 or 2:3 pattern. Eventually, whatever it was worked itself out and the pain disappeared but by this time I was growing fatigued and was having a hard time transitioning back to my original ratio. My husband was great about pushing me to run again and we began to pick spots to run to. I even ran past those points a few times as he continued to inform me of my projected finish time which was getting later and later. Motivation! I found some inner strength and we managed to pull out some blazing fast 12 minute miles (believe me, that felt fast at this point). I was feeling good again for the most part. And then we reached the valley and the end of my advantageous downhill. It wasn't a screeching halt but it was mentally taxing as much as it was physically taxing. I think we were around 45 miles at this point, however, my watch was running 1.5 miles ahead which meant it as showing I'd run 46.5 miles. That was very hard to ignore. I really wanted my watch to be correct but I knew my watch miles were not the ones that counted. I had to push on. This is the point where the race became mental. My husband was happily chatting and instead of responding with full sentences I began to respond with, "Uh huh's", "Oh's" and "Yep's" and eventually I told him, "I'm done talking. You can keep talking but I'm not gonna respond anymore." It was time to focus. I tried to imagine the finish line and how it would feel, a strategy I've employed many a time to motivate myself in the later miles of a race but for the first time ever, instead of giving me a boost of adrenaline, I felt tears well up in my eyes and a blob of emotion well up in my chest. What? Tears? Crying? I don't cry! I immediately shut those thoughts down. Not going there!
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| My husband. I slowed to take his photo. Wish now I'd made him turn around. |
Up until I met my husband I had been running a fairly consistent run/walk pattern. The first few miles in the valley when it was more level, I used a 6:1 pattern. When the uphill section began I dropped to a 4:10 run and 1:20 walk pattern. Why the odd numbers? The extra 10 seconds running were because I accidentally kept scrolling past 4 minutes when trying to set my watch and finally decided 10 seconds extra was good enough. The walking portion was because in training I had found the extra 20 seconds gave me just enough time to drop my heart rate quite a bit lower and feel more recovered before running again. I was able to maintain this pattern for a few miles with my husband but around 40 miles my IT band started bothering me and I'd have to stop to a walk a little more frequently, I was doing more of a 3:2 or 2:3 pattern. Eventually, whatever it was worked itself out and the pain disappeared but by this time I was growing fatigued and was having a hard time transitioning back to my original ratio. My husband was great about pushing me to run again and we began to pick spots to run to. I even ran past those points a few times as he continued to inform me of my projected finish time which was getting later and later. Motivation! I found some inner strength and we managed to pull out some blazing fast 12 minute miles (believe me, that felt fast at this point). I was feeling good again for the most part. And then we reached the valley and the end of my advantageous downhill. It wasn't a screeching halt but it was mentally taxing as much as it was physically taxing. I think we were around 45 miles at this point, however, my watch was running 1.5 miles ahead which meant it as showing I'd run 46.5 miles. That was very hard to ignore. I really wanted my watch to be correct but I knew my watch miles were not the ones that counted. I had to push on. This is the point where the race became mental. My husband was happily chatting and instead of responding with full sentences I began to respond with, "Uh huh's", "Oh's" and "Yep's" and eventually I told him, "I'm done talking. You can keep talking but I'm not gonna respond anymore." It was time to focus. I tried to imagine the finish line and how it would feel, a strategy I've employed many a time to motivate myself in the later miles of a race but for the first time ever, instead of giving me a boost of adrenaline, I felt tears well up in my eyes and a blob of emotion well up in my chest. What? Tears? Crying? I don't cry! I immediately shut those thoughts down. Not going there!
My goal at this point was to reach the steps. Yes, those steps we had come up when my legs and mind were fresh. I knew when I reached the steps I would be home free. It was a process of me saying, "I'm gonna run to that tree" which would result in my husband joking, "Which tree? There's a ton of trees out here" and my replying, "The bushy one". Only I don't think I was joking. We began to run past buildings and civilization again. My watch hit 50 miles. Ugh. The stairs were still not in sight. Keep Going! And then they were in sight. The blessed staircase with the promised finish line a few blocks of pavement away. I was ready for some pavement after miles and miles of gravel. We paused for a second at the top of the staircase and as I looked down I noticed the pavement below appeared to be swirling and waving around, akin to how it feels when you step out of roller skates after an hour of skating or akin to stepping off a boat. I stood still for a moment waiting to see if the sensation would go away and assessing if it was due to dizziness or some other serious issue. The volunteer below shouted up, "Take your time". I realized I still felt pretty good and no, I wasn't dizzy. I think the swirly ground was simply an optical illusion caused by watching the ground move past me for almost 12 hours and suddenly stopping and looking down. My brain was trying to process the sudden change in perception. I never told my husband what I was seeing. I didn't need him to freak out. I cautiously made my way down the steps, happily surprised at how my legs were responding. The volunteer said something about looking good and the finish line was just around the bend up ahead. More blessed words had never been spoken! I was a little worried about finding my way back - my sense of direction stinks in the best of circumstances with full on brain functioning. This was not one of those times but my husband assured me there'd be signs and there were. We followed them and soon the school holding the finish was in sight. We reached the parking lot and my husband told me, "Go get it!" and cut off course to meet me at the finish line. I was a little bummed to realize I had to run around the parking lot. I heard my family and the volunteers cheering for me and that blob of emotion I'd suppressed began to well up in my chest again. The tears pushed at my eyes. No! No! No! I refuse to cry! I am happy and that's the expression I want on my face as I cross this finish line! I put the biggest grin on my face that I possibly could, threw up my hands and sprinted to colorful flag marking the end of my journey. My medal was placed around my neck and arms were wrapped around my sweaty body in the form of hugs. I had finished in 11:51:47. I had beat 12 hours. I felt good. Ecstatic. Elated. Exhausted.
I'm really glad my parents and kids were there at the finish with me. Originally, we hadn't planned on them being there but we realized in our planning, we'd forgotten that Chris would be driving 15.5 miles up the trail to meet me and we'd have no ride back to our truck from the finish line. Mom and dad to the rescue! I'm so happy it worked out that way because having them there meant a lot. They've long ago stopped coming to my marathons, triathlons and even my 50k's and I don't blame them. I don't expect them at every race but this one was a biggie and I'm thrilled they were able to share in the experience with me. Thanks mom and dad and kids.
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| Finish line! |
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| I remembered to check my watch. Not totally brain dead yet. |
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| My Medal! |
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| My fabulous pacer and hubby, Chris! |
I'm really glad my parents and kids were there at the finish with me. Originally, we hadn't planned on them being there but we realized in our planning, we'd forgotten that Chris would be driving 15.5 miles up the trail to meet me and we'd have no ride back to our truck from the finish line. Mom and dad to the rescue! I'm so happy it worked out that way because having them there meant a lot. They've long ago stopped coming to my marathons, triathlons and even my 50k's and I don't blame them. I don't expect them at every race but this one was a biggie and I'm thrilled they were able to share in the experience with me. Thanks mom and dad and kids.
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| The fam and me at the finish |
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| I think this photo captured genuine elation on my face. |
It never fails to amaze me how I continue running, walking and moving through an ultra, including stopping and starting again at aid stations, porta-potties and the like but as soon as I take a moment to stand still after crossing the finish line ... bam! The muscles stiffen and all mobility seizes up. Suddenly, I'm walking like I'm 110 years old. Between the time we took all those photos and the time I began my walk to the bathrooms in the school I had been relegated to a shuffle. Climbing into the back of my mom and dad's truck was torture. Simply sitting there, unable to stretch my legs out was also akin to torture. When we arrived at our truck, an F350, I paused for a few seconds before grabbing the handle up top and carefully hauling myself into our monstrosity. Who had the brilliant idea to bring this massive truck anyway? Oh yes, me. I wanted to stay in our camper which requires the truck. My bad.
By the time we arrived at our home sweet home away from home I had a full blown case of the chills. My hands were ghost white thanks to my Raynaud's and my teeth were chattering so hard I could barely talk. It had been dumping rain the last few miles of the race and at the finish so I was, once again, soaked to the bone. My dry clothes had been in our truck, not at the finish, so even though I had put a dry shirt on once I sat in our truck, the cold had penetrated and done its job. As much as I wanted to lie down and not move I knew I needed a shower. I grabbed my tube of diaper rash ointment to cover any chafing spots, a towel, clean clothes (wouldn't that feel good?) and headed to our tiny yet perfectly comfortable and able camper shower. I had brought a bag of epsom salts in case I wanted to try a bath but as I peered down at the tiny bathtub I knew there'd be no way I could get my body into it, let alone out of it. I opted for a lukewarm shower. My chafing wasn't as bad as I had feared and the shower wound up being almost painless. Almost.
Once dressed I promptly grabbed a beanie cap for my head (I was too tired to blow dry my hair), made myself a recovery drink, cranked up the heat and headed to my bed where I cozied up in 4 blankets to await the end of the chills. Chris and Jonah headed out to a local burger joint and brought back burgers and fries for everyone. They smelled so good and tasted good too but my stomach could only tolerate about half of it. Boo.
Eventually, I warmed up enough to emerge from my cocoon of covers and stretch my legs a bit. I propped them on the ceiling of the camper above my head in the bed. I was pleased to find that despite my worry of blisters, I came away blister free! My arches, however, had some bruising from the orthotics (not cool) and the front of my left ankle had some chafing but overall, not too shabby.
Of course, that night's sleep wasn't the greatest. My endorphins and adrenaline were not ready to settle down for a deep sleep. Every toss and turn required picking my entire body up. I had to get up and pee multiple times which always resulted in chills returning. Oh the joys of temperature variances after a really long run but by morning I was pleased to find I was feeling much better than expected. I was tired, beyond tired but I was able to walk, go down the camper steps, climb up into the truck, all with relative ease considering. We weren't able to lounge around at all as it was Monday and Chris had to get back to work and the kids needed to get to school so it was an early morning and departure. The campground was, per mapquest, 35 miles from our house. I took a moment to marvel that I had just run farther than we were now driving and this seemed like a long drive. Feelings of awe and wow, I tell ya.
I truly enjoyed this experience. I admit, I had a couple moments of thought during the race that went along the lines of, "I'm not sure I'll do this again" but by next morning I knew this would not be my last 50 miler and I'd probably be back at Mt. Si again, this time better prepared for the constant elevation gain and hopefully, able to speed through the aid stations faster. I can chop a lot of time right there. I might try for 50 miles again in August at The Hamster Endurance Runs. Just like marathons, ultra running is addictive and I've fallen victim to its pull. There is a happy place to be found in those long miles, in the nature around me, in the people I meet and yes, even in the fatigue that ensues and takes over. There is strength that results from knowing your mind can tell your body to Keep Going no matter how tired it is, no matter how temping the compulsion to stop. Keep Going. My friend Mary's slogan. It's actually, Keep Going, Love Jesus. We're going to have many, many miles in this life when we want to just stop. It's too hard. We're tired. It's not fair. We're done. Through. Finished. Time to change the channel. Jesus says, "Keep Going". We're not alone. My husband was my pacer in this race. He was beside me when the miles got tough. He kept me company, helped carry my load, pushed me while also respecting my need to slow down, and pretty much counted my steps (pace) to keep me moving to the finish. That's what Jesus does for us. He's our pacer. I could have finished this race alone. I didn't have to ask my husband to join me but I would have missed out on his company and his help. Likewise, we don't have to travel this journey called life with Jesus. He doesn't force his presence upon us but the option is there. He's ready, he's willing, he's able and we simply need to ask. What do you have to lose? His strength? His help? I'm glad Jesus is with me on this journey that's so much larger than a 50 mile race and I'm grateful that He allows me to experience his presence on a daily basis because this life can be hard. It can feel all uphill sometimes! But He lightens my load and lifts my feet and helps me to Keep Going until I reach the finish.
"but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31
I truly enjoyed this experience. I admit, I had a couple moments of thought during the race that went along the lines of, "I'm not sure I'll do this again" but by next morning I knew this would not be my last 50 miler and I'd probably be back at Mt. Si again, this time better prepared for the constant elevation gain and hopefully, able to speed through the aid stations faster. I can chop a lot of time right there. I might try for 50 miles again in August at The Hamster Endurance Runs. Just like marathons, ultra running is addictive and I've fallen victim to its pull. There is a happy place to be found in those long miles, in the nature around me, in the people I meet and yes, even in the fatigue that ensues and takes over. There is strength that results from knowing your mind can tell your body to Keep Going no matter how tired it is, no matter how temping the compulsion to stop. Keep Going. My friend Mary's slogan. It's actually, Keep Going, Love Jesus. We're going to have many, many miles in this life when we want to just stop. It's too hard. We're tired. It's not fair. We're done. Through. Finished. Time to change the channel. Jesus says, "Keep Going". We're not alone. My husband was my pacer in this race. He was beside me when the miles got tough. He kept me company, helped carry my load, pushed me while also respecting my need to slow down, and pretty much counted my steps (pace) to keep me moving to the finish. That's what Jesus does for us. He's our pacer. I could have finished this race alone. I didn't have to ask my husband to join me but I would have missed out on his company and his help. Likewise, we don't have to travel this journey called life with Jesus. He doesn't force his presence upon us but the option is there. He's ready, he's willing, he's able and we simply need to ask. What do you have to lose? His strength? His help? I'm glad Jesus is with me on this journey that's so much larger than a 50 mile race and I'm grateful that He allows me to experience his presence on a daily basis because this life can be hard. It can feel all uphill sometimes! But He lightens my load and lifts my feet and helps me to Keep Going until I reach the finish.
"but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28
"They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit." Jeremiah 17:8
