Risks and Roller-coasters

The only picture that exists of me with a broken ankle.

My husband and I recently took a vacation to Florida. One of our stops on a tour of the southern part of the state was Busch Gardens in Tampa, where we rode roller-coasters to our heart’s content for two days. If you know me, you might find this rather odd. I am very afraid of heights, drop-offs, and cliff-edges— any place where a misstep or fall could mean severe injury or death. I’ve always had a “healthy” fear of heights, but in August 2005, just as I began my initial weight-loss journey, I slipped off a steep hiking trail in the Columbia River Gorge and broke my left ankle. I rolled down the steep slope, then held on to a skinny little tree (see photo below), my legs dangling below me. I was terrified. I didn’t have the strength to pull myself back up to the trail. Doug (my husband) had to crawl down the slope, get below me, and push me back up to the trail. At the time I thought I’d just sprained my ankle, and walked back to the car 1.5 miles away.

Having a broken ankle in a cast for 3 weeks just as I was beginning to get active and lose weight was devastating to me. I couldn’t hike or do much exercise, which at the time was all I felt I could be proud of myself for. I pretty much gave up on using crutches the very day that I got them, and rented a wheelchair so I could more easily get around home and work. It was one of the worst times in my life.

Revisiting the fateful spot one year later

That’s how my extreme fear of heights started. I figured if I fell where I did, I could fall anywhere, and potentially to my death. Since then, I have hiked or ran on several trails that really freaked me out— I’m talking tears and hyperventilating! Sometimes I have even given in to my fear and turned back. These have included the trails to the top of Black Butte and Paulina Peak. I am happy to report, however, that my fear is very slowing getting better. As long as I can catch myself before freaking out, take a few deep breaths and realize that I’m not going to fling myself over the edge, things turn out fine. One year after breaking my ankle, I revisited the exact spot on the trail and opened the door for healing to begin.

Back to roller coasters. I rode my scariest roller coaster yet at Busch Gardens. It is called ShieKra. It is the first floor-less “plunge” coaster in America. It takes you up a very steep 200 feet climb, then stops just after you go over the top and lets you hang there looking straight down for 4 seconds while you contemplate the forthcoming 90-degree drop straight down. Doug and I watched it several times before deciding to ride. Frankly, I was surprised my husband wanted to ride it. It if was just me, I probably would not have. The initial climb was one of the steepest I have experienced. I was terrified not only of this climb, but what I knew was coming next. I fixed my eyes straight ahead, avoiding looking over the edge of my seat to the left and down. I said out loud to myself over and over, “Breathe, breathe.” During the hang-time before the plunge straight down I was practically hyperventilating. And then on the plunge, holding my breath. No wonder they want riders to be in decent physical shape, to not have high blood pressure, etc. Even though I am often quite scared on coasters, somehow they feel so safe. I don’t have to trust myself. I’m not afraid of slipping or taking a running leap off the edge. I’m seated with a harness over me. I’m not going anywhere the coaster isn’t. Here are a bunch of great images of SheiKra since I didn’t get any good photos of it.

I am fine taking risks riding roller coasters. They feel so risky, but really aren’t. I’ve never been a risk-taker. I’ve long felt that by not taking big risks in general, I am protecting myself— that I need to protect myself. But by “protecting” myself, how many really great things am I missing out on? Without taking risk, I’ll never know.

Lately I’ve taken a few risks that are really paying off. It all started in late November when my coach asked me to write down my goals and a time-line for them. One of the first goals I accomplished in February was starting this blog. I was scared to death to tell people who I really am. I was afraid what people would think of me, that they might think I was a terrible person. That did not happen. I am so glad I took the risk. Many people have thanked me for sharing my story and have told me they passed my blog along to others they knew would benefit from it. These stories mean so much to me. Thank you all for sharing them with me. Yes, my blog risk was worth it!

For the most part, the goals/risks on my list are getting quickly accomplished. I review my goal list regularly, and was surprised the other day when I realized I could cross off another, when I didn’t even  know that’s what I was doing. Another risk I took recently was starting a facebook group called Central Oregon Trail Runners Network. I had been envisioning a site where trail runners in Central Oregon could go to share information about trail running in our area— from sharing photos and trail reports to planning meet-ups with other area trail runners. I thought if I didn’t do this, someone else eventually would. Like usual, I questioned myself. “Who do I think I am to do this? It’s not like I’m some confident, amazing athlete or leader.” Then I stopped myself right there. I have to stop putting myself down. I also need to start stepping outside of my comfort zone. So I did. When facebook asked me to add friends to the group, I wondered what I should do. I started by adding all my current facebook friends in the area who I know are trail runners. I was really concerned about pissing off somebody by automatically including them. But then I figured if they didn’t want to be part of the group, they were free to hit the “Leave Group” button at any time.

I usually check facebook and e-mail before breakfast, but the next morning I put it off. And put it off some more. I was afraid of what people might think or say. When I finally got up the nerve to get on the computer, I was relieved that no one was mad. Everyone was still part of the group. And I even had a couple requests to join the group from people who weren’t facebook friends of mine. Wow, that wasn’t so bad after all! I’ve had a few people tell me in person what a great idea Central Oregon Trail Runners Network is. Whew! Another risk is paying off— one that I hope will grow to be a valuable resource for trail runners in the area.

I am getting set to take all kinds of risks this summer. One that I am very excited about is taking more friends and small groups of soon-to-be friends, on casual, social trail runs. And I’m not talking in town. There’s something magical about taking someone on a trail they’ve never been on before, getting them out of their comfort zone to challenge themselves a little. There’s no greater reward then seeing the look of wonder on a person’s face after they’ve run to the base of a mountain, or smile of confidence after running over log bridges, through streams meeting the challenges that the trail put before them.

When I moved to Bend in fall 2007, I had just started trail running. I was not confident, and didn’t know where to go trail running, much less want to go alone. I didn’t know anyone in town yet, so I did a few runs with a local women’s running group. I learned short running loops in Shevlin Park and at Phil’s trail system. From there I did research in hiking books, asked around, bought trail maps, and slowly began exploring. I discovered that I love maps, and that I thoroughly enjoy planning a trail run: plotting my route, stocking my hydration pack to be prepared for as many contingencies as possible, the sweet anticipation of the unknown while driving to the trailhead, and of course the big payoff, the run within nature itself.

North Sister above South Matthieu Lake

I have had the opportunity to take  several friends trail running, and in fact take a few to places they’ve never been before. One day I’ll never forget is when Susan, looking up at North Sister from South Matthieu Lake near McKenzie Pass, exclaimed, “Laura, you take me to the best places!” Ever since then I’ve wanted to share experiences like this with more people. I know there are people out there who want to get out of town on the trails but don’t know where to go, don’t want to go alone, or are afraid of getting lost. After a recent trail run, another friend told me she’d be comfortable going back out there on her own now. Yes!— that’s my goal. I want people to feel confident and empowered, not like I felt for so long, and still struggle with at times. I want other people to be able to experience nature through running and become confident, prepared trail runners. Just the other day I ran to a beautiful viewpoint on a trail high above Tumalo Falls with spectacular mountain views. I stopped, smiled, laughed, cried, whooped and hollered— all alone. I wished I’d had someone to share that particular experience with. Soon.

I don’t know for sure what form these “trail runs with Laura” will take or when, but I have begun work on the concept. What I do know is I have routes in mind for everyone from 5k-er to 1/2 marathoner and up. Anyone who can comfortably run a 5k will be able to run/hike a beautiful 4.25 mile loop I have in mind. Routes may be a challenge for some and easy for others. These runs will be a social setting and we’ll take hike/snack/photo breaks. I want each person to feel comfortable with his or her pace and accepted for who they are, challenge themselves a little, be surprised by what they are able to do, and most of all, have fun!

A small section of the multiple-mtn view from the ridge above North Matthieu Lake

But I can’t put this off, or else it won’t happen again this year. Nobody but me can make my dreams happen. I’ll start by letting my friends know, and hopefully they will share with their friends, and so on and so on. Who knows where it might go from there? This is the first public announcement I’ve made of this. If you or someone you know lives in Central Oregon or will be visiting the area and is interested in a trail run adventure, please comment here, or send me a message on facebook.

Other risks I’m taking this year include: running the Wonderland Trail 100+ miles around Mt. Rainer on a 5-day running tour; running two 50-mile races, and one 100k. The 100k I intend to do is held on the Pacific Crest Trail in the North Cascades of Washington state, an area that I’ve never been to. Registration hasn’t even opened yet, and I have to admit I’ve already scared (and excited!) myself looking at pictures and video from the course. This race is only open to “veteran” ultra runners who have completed ten or more ultra-length races. Pretty scary (OK, not scary, but thrilling) that in less than 18 months, I’ll have 12 ultras under my belt and considered a “veteran.” The course is 62 miles long and never crosses a road. I worry that my fear of heights will kick in on exposed ridge top. What if I freak out and can’t continue? What if I fail? But what if, as my coach suggests, everything goes just fine and I have a great time and come out of it feeling strong and empowered? I can’t know success until I take a risk. Neither will you. Don’t think “Impossible.” Instead think “I’m possible.” The only limits that exist are those which we create in our own minds. To put it another way, the only person who can tell you you can’t is you, and you don’t have to listen. Why not tell yourself you CAN? Now that’s worth listening to!

Let’s go out there and start achieving the things we’ve always wanted to do but were too afraid to. Yes, I know it’s scary, but I’m with you. If Laura can do it, you can too. I’m so excited for all the amazing things you’re about to experience! 

McDonald Forest 50k

Lovely Rita. Shave and a Haircut. Who Do You Love. On the Sly. These are just a few of the challenging trails that comprise the McDonald Forest 50k held annually in the Peavy Arboretum and McDonald Forest (used by Oregon State University College of Forestry for instruction and research) six miles north of Corvallis, Oregon.

The race affectionately referred to by many as “MacForest” or just “The Mac” was my second-ever ultra-distance race last year, and my favorite of five. So I decided to go back this year not only because I had enjoyed it, but I wanted to gauge how my fitness level had improved. I love MacForest because it has a little bit of something for everyone: steep lung-busting climbs, quad-bashing descents, sweet single-track, long up- and down-hill forest road sections where you can really pick up the pace; narrow muddy horse trails, creek crossings, and the lush green foliage (including poison oak) of the Willamette Valley. The course, though quite convoluted, is one of the most well-marked I’ve ever run. With 6,700 feet of elevation gain, it is at times a hike-fest. It’s good to get out of your comfort zone, learn to be patient, and get in some good climbing every now and then. Anyone who runs this race is a total bad-ass.

I was surprised by the number of people I spoke with who said this was their first ultra-distance race. More power to them. After this, they should feel like they can accomplish anything! In fact, one young fellow said he had never run more than 18 miles before this. Part of me wishes I had had that much confidence in myself and my abilities when just starting out. I am in awe of those who ran The Mac as their first ultra.

Race morning (May 7th) temperatures were perfect. Overnight lows were in the upper 40s and highs were expected to be around 60. That meant shorts weather! I was so excited to be out of running tights/capris and feeling free as a bird in shorts and a lightweight, short-sleeve top. I wore some light gloves the first half of the race because my fingers tend to get cold sticking out there doing nothing. At straight-up 8am, the race was on. After an initial 1.5 mile loop on a wide service road, the field of 200 had spread out a bit, and we were funneled on to single track for a warm-up climb: 600 feet of gain in the next 1.5 miles.

I had forgotten how many steep, and at times quite muddy, climbs there are in this race. Starting at 9.4 miles in, Lovely Rita is one of the best: over 400 feet gain in about half a mile. I was slowly plodding along, mouth agape, gasping for air, sweat pouring off me in buckets. Though she might be lovely, Rita sure got a good trampling. Not to be outdone, Shave and a Haircut at mile 14 is a steep, muddy slope that loses more than 500 feet in about 3/4 of a mile. After a couple more comparatively short ups and downs, racers were dumped out onto a forest road at mile 16.4 for the 1.5 mile climb up to the Dimple Hill aid station.

I had made it my goal this year to run as much of the forest road uphill sections as possible, and especially the stretch to Dimple Hill. Last year I had walked the entire thing, and it seemed so long. But I had done a lot of hill training in the past year, most notably on what I call the “7 mile hill” on the Haulin’ Aspen course. I learned to switch gears, slow down, be patient, and “rest” while running (albeit slowly), up hill. I was stoked to meet this goal head on. Half a mile up the 1.5 mile climb, I was telling myself “I can do this. I’ve so got this.” A mile in, I was laughing and getting teary-eyed because I knew I could do this for another 1/2 mile. I had this in the bag! Cresting the top at Dimple Hill aid station, I wanted to spike my gel flask in celebration, jump into someone’s arms, and tell everyone what I just did! Instead I smiled and laughed celebrating alone in my head. It didn’t matter what the rest of my race looked like. I was happy because I showed myself how much stronger I was than the previous year.

Ultrarunners April and Craig got married during the race at the Dimple Hill aid station at mile 18.6 (yes, they ran the entire race). I got to Dimple Hill too late for the ceremony, but as I approached, friends and family of the couple were walking down the hill to their cars and cheering on runners. That was pretty cool. I was fortunate to “run into” the bride later when she was heading down the hill from Chip Ross Park, and I was heading up. It was nice to be able to give her a big congratulatory hug, since she was already gone by the time I crossed the finish line.

Around mile 20, after the descent off Dimple Hill, the outside of my left lower leg started feeling a little tight. I’ve had some issues with muscles and tendons in my lower legs off and on for the last year (in fact it was this race last year where it started). I have learned to not freak out at the onset of this tightness, and most of the time it doesn’t bother me much. I have developed some techniques that I use, literally on the run, to deal with it. Today was no different. On the long gentle downhill stretches that generally bother it, I thought about running tall, engaging my core, planting my footfalls underneath my hips, and my opening up my stride behind me. When thinking about this, the tightness in my lower leg subsided. Now if I could just think about that all the time! Starting up the next long set of switchbacks after Chip Ross, I met Elizabeth. It was her first ultra race. We put arms around each others shoulders and together yelled, “Yahoo— another hill! Hill, you’ve got nothing on us!” As I hiked ahead of her, I sang her the chorus to the song Move Along: “When all you’ve got to keep is strong, move along, move along like I know you do. And even when your hope is gone, move along, move along just to make it through. Move along.” And then I was gone.

I had met a gal named Jennifer early in the race. She struck me not only because she was wearing long tights (I would have been burning up!) but because she ran at a nearly constant slow pace. And yes, this was her first ultra as well. I was astounded how she slowly ran up inclines that I felt necessary to hike up (she was far ahead of me on the steepest parts of trail and I wondered if she could possibly be running them too). Her slow running pace was just a bit faster than my hiking pace. I told Jennifer a couple times that she was my hero. I couldn’t believe how she could keep slowly running while I was sucking wind and dripping buckets of sweat while hiking. Jennifer’s downhill running pace however, was not much faster than her uphill pace, so while she passed me on steeper climbs, I passed her on long downhills. We leap-frogged positions several times throughout the race.

By the third time Jennifer passed me (on Lovely Rita), I had begun to beat myself up mentally because I felt I wasn’t measuring up. But then I stopped and thought, “I don’t know her story, and she doesn’t know mine.” IMPORTANT ASIDE: Please listen to me when I tell you: don’t compare yourself to other people. Every person has a different story/past/experiences. You don’t know other people’s stories, and they don’t know yours. So don’t judge others, and most importantly, don’t judge yourself. Doing so only leads to emotional pain, which I know quite well from personal experience and still struggle with. Don’t compare yourself to friends 10 years younger than you, or friends 20 years older than you who kick your butt every time (I love all of you!). You’re all different people with different life experiences, so just be filled with gratitude that your own heart, lungs, eyes, and legs all work and are able to take you to such wonderful places. Just be in the world and be grateful.

Coming into the last aid station at mile 26.8, I saw Jennifer plugging along just ahead. Part of me really wanted to beat her across the finish line, and part of me felt that since she had been so consistent, she deserved to beat me. I stopped to use the porta-potty and thought about it. My second big goal for the day was to run up this final long gradual hill, just under 2 miles long and over 400 feet elevation gain (it sure seemed like more than that at the time!). I settled into my slow, patient uphill pace again. Soon I noticed someone familiar ahead! It was Sean Meissner, running with his sister April at her first 50k! Of course I had to stop and tell April what a badass she is! We chatted for a couple minutes before I went on my way. Sean told me to catch a guy ahead and I said I could do that with no problem. The problem was, once the downhill kicked in again, that fellow flew past me! After the race, he said his body just did not want to run any more hills, but was ready to go on the downhills.

With 2.5 miles to go, I passed Jennifer for what I hoped would be the last time. I said, “Only 2.5 miles to go, we’ve so got this!” At 1.64 miles remaining, there was more uphill singletrack. I looked behind me to see where Jennifer was. I told myself that if I walked up all of this hill, she would pass me again. So I ran as much of it as I possibly could. Knowing she was behind me (but not knowing how far) pushed me to finish stronger. The last mile, the song “More” by Usher played on my iPod. The timing couldn’t have been better: “I’m a beast, I’m an animal, I’m that monster in the mirror, The headliner, finisher, I’m the closer, winner. Best when under pressure with seconds left I show up.... Gonna push it to the limit, give it more.” I ran happy and proud, like I was flying!

I crossed the finish line feeling great. Though my time was four minutes slower than last year, the course was considerably muddier, and a new section of trail had been added. I wondered how much less my time would have been with the same course conditions as last year. But it didn’t really matter, because I met my other goals of running up hills that I walked entirely last year. Watch out Rita, I’m coming back for you next year!

Let’s Rumble!

Eagle Rock Trail

By mid-April, most Central Oregonians are sick and tired of winter and chomping at the bit for summer trail running season to begin. That’s not the only reason that the Peterson Ridge Rumble, a 20- and 40-mile race held on the Peterson Ridge Trail system outside of Sisters, Oregon is so popular. It’s also because it’s one of the most well organized, well marked, scenic, and most importantly— fun— races in the area.

One of the things I like most about the race is the layout of the course. The 20-mile course map looks like a figure-eight on a long string. The first half of the 40-mile course is the same as the 20-mile with the addition of a small balloon attached to the far end of the figure-eight. Instead of running down the long “string” back to the start/finish, 40-mile runners are directed onto a large loop at mile 25. With less than 2,400 feet of elevation gain in 40 miles, the Rumble course is very runnable, which can be a blessing or a curse. The first third of the course is gentle uphill, the middle third is mostly rolling, and the final third gentle downhill, making for a fast finish. Another thing I love about this race is that due to the course layout and the 20-mile race starting an hour after the 40-mile, you get to see a lot of smiling faces passing you in both directions. If you prefer running in solitude, you’ll get that on the final 15 mile loop.

There are many interesting rock formations along the course

There were more people than I anticipated at the 7:00 a.m. early start. I had chosen to take the early start because the RD had run into a few inches of snow above 3,600 feet when he had marked the course a few days earlier. Then the weather got colder and since we had snow flurries in town, I figured there would be even more snow up on the ridge. It turns out there wasn’t. Even the highest points of the course were essentially snow-free. Weather at the early start felt pretty warm at 34 degrees, and many of us chose to wear shorts, since temperatures were expected to reach the mid 50s. Though few mountaintops were visible due to cloudy skies, views from the ridge-tops were still expansive and stunning. Forecasted rain showers did not materialize.

Runners are directed over this large rock pile!

After the initial mile of trail, racers were dumped out onto a long straight gravel road for two miles. Most people didn’t appreciate this section of the course, but I chose to look at it as something I had to go through to get to the “good stuff.”

I was feeling really good, and then all of a sudden just before mile ten I was sprawling toward the ground. I wasn’t particularly hurt, just a slightly skinned left knee and a little trail rash on my right shin. I got up and started running again. Within another quarter-mile, pow! I went down again. This flustered me. Why had I fallen again so soon? Perhaps I was more shaken than I thought, so I took an walk break and had a gel to shake off the feeling.

By 12 miles in, the front-runners of the regular start began passing me. Doing some quick math in my head, their pace was twice as fast as mine! At mile 13 we turned around to experience gentle downhill for the next seven miles. I really enjoyed this section of the course as I got to see many of my friends coming toward me heading up the hill as I was headed down. I gave and received hugs and high-fives, and exchanged many encouraging words with other racers. One of the things I enjoy about ultrarunning is giving and receiving encouragement in the form of “good job,” “nice work,” “looking good,” and the like. I estimate that 85% of fellow racers said something to that effect to me that day, and darned near everyone was smiling when they said it! Ultrarunners are happy, encouraging people!

One of the ridge-top views; I loved the winding trail through Manzanita!

About 15 miles in, after a bit of downhill, the front of my lower legs began to feel tight and a bit fatigued. This has had a tendency to happen over the last year on long downhill sections. Sometimes it leads to problems with tendons that cross over the front of my ankles. This day it didn’t get any worse or cause me problems. I did try to be proactive by occasionally stopping to do ankle circles, which gave some relief. I have been working on core and glute strength, balance, and proprioception, which I hope will one day put an end to this nuisance.

Mountain bikers perched atop rock outcroppings for a better view

By mile 23, even though the last seven miles had been downhill, I was starting to feel it. 20-mile racers had been passing me the last few miles. At my mile 25, one 20-mile racer who was just a few miles from her finish, ran with me for a bit saying, “we’re almost done!” “No,” I replied, “I’ve still got 15 miles to go.” “You’re running the 40?” she asked. “I don’t know how you do it. Great job! You don’t even look tired.” This last part made me laugh on the inside. A few minutes later I peeled off with other 40-mile runners onto the 15 mile loop. I walked for a few minutes and began to feel better.

The next few miles were mostly gentle uphill again. If this had come earlier in the race, I would have been able to run it all, but since fatigue was setting in, I took more frequent walk breaks. By the time I reached the aid station at mile 30 though, I was feeling great again and thinking wow, this is no big deal. I’m going to finish strong no problem.

The last 10 miles of the race are mostly flat to downhill with great views from the ridge top. I was feeling good, and for possibly the first time ever in an ultra-distance race, a little bit proud of myself. Not much could have been better. Then it did get better. Just after mile 34 I heard distant whooping and hollering. Something exciting must be ahead, I thought. Then I heard it again. As I came running down the ridge, I heard people yelling my name: “Yeah Laura!” It was the volunteers at aid station seven! I nearly cried running down that ridge and into the arms of four ultrarunning friends. What a wonderful surprise! This really pumped me up for the last few miles.

I tried to not take any walk breaks this last stretch, but just plugged along slowly and consistently. I was not familiar with this last part of the course and was taken by surprise when the parking lot of Sisters Middle School— the start and finish of the race— suddenly came into view. As I followed the course markings across the parking lot toward the school track, people already finished with the race who were accessing their vehicles cheered me along. The cherry on top of this race is the lap around the school track to the finish line. I ran as proud and fast as I could while friends and onlookers cheered. I crossed the finish line feeling like I could have run 50 miles, though I was glad I didn’t have to.

Peterson Ridge Rumble is one of the best races I’ve ever run. The last two years I ran the 20-mile distance, and this year felt ready for the 40-mile. The race is a fundraiser for the Sisters High School cross country team. Members of the team staffed several of the well-stocked aid stations, which were just 4 to 6 miles apart. I felt spoiled with aid stations so closer together in such an “easy” ultra. On top of all this, finishers received a pair of coveted Peterson Ridge Rumble socks and got to chow down at a do-it-yourself burrito bar.

For several years, miles of trail have been added to the Peterson Ridge Trail system by the Sisters Trail Alliance. As a result, the Peterson Ridge races keep getting longer. I can’t help but wonder how long until there will be a Peterson Ridge 50-mile race. With so many ultrarunners in Central Oregon and around the country, I’m sure it would be welcomed.

Am I Ready to Rumble?

Feigning happiness at mile 13 of a super-crappy 23 mile run

I had a tough go of it mentally the final weeks leading up to Peterson Ridge Rumble 40-miler. I was using a lot of negative self-talk. After the Gorge Waterfalls 50k in March, I suddenly noticed that I had put on weight over the last few months. I didn’t need to step on the scale to know. The running tops and shorts I had been wearing since last summer were now snug and I wasn’t happy about it. In fact, I beat myself up over and over about it. I had been sleeping poorly again, waking up in the middle of the night either in a panic, or feeling bad about myself. One night I awoke thinking about my running pace. In my head I was equating faster pace with being a better runner. I didn’t know if I was deserving of being a faster (and therefore “better”) runner. I cried myself back to sleep. Faster runners aren’t necessarily “better” runners. They’re just different. I know what I’d tell someone else who had the same thoughts that I did, but then I’ve never applied the same rules to myself that I do to other people.

On Monday March 28^th I did a 2-hour treadmill run at the gym. When I got home that evening, my body couldn’t get enough food. I ate and ate what I thought were a good mix of proteins, carbs, and fats. My stomach felt full of bulk but I still felt hungry. Eventually I didn’t know what else to do other than just go to bed.

The next morning when I woke up I just wanted to cry. The only things I was able to see were negative— all the things in my life that were not right. I saw the dust on the shelves, crumbs on the kitchen counters, spots on the floors. I got down to clean the spots on the floor and saw the spots on the cabinets. I couldn’t handle it. I decided to go for a run. I put on a running top and immediately burst into tears at the sight of my abdomen pressing against the fabric. See what happens when I’m not in control of myself? I thought. I stormed downstairs. I wanted to kick or hit something really bad. I wanted to break dishes. Instead I screamed, aggressively jumped up and down, then collapsed onto the kitchen floor in a heap, sobbing with my head in my hands.

A short time later I left the house dressed for a run. I told my husband I didn’t know where I was going or when I would be back, but I had enough water and supplies with me to last for 5 hours. I arrived at Shevlin Park. Within 5 minutes of leaving the car, I wanted to go back. But I really didn’t. But I did. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I felt desperate to talk to someone and made a couple phone calls. My body didn’t feel like running, so I just hiked as I talked on the phone.

I hiked through Shevlin Park and up the Mrazek Trail a way, then decided to check out the Tumalo Creek Trail upstream from Shevlin Park. I’d never been on this section of trail before, but had heard about a cool rock arch that the trail passes through. The trail is very rocky and skirts the base of cliffs high above the river. It was pretty slow going. I did not know how far the rock arch was down the trail, but kept going a little farther to see what was around the next bend. The farther I went, the colder and breezier it got. I knew there could be cougars out here (later I talked to people who had seen cougars along this very trail before). I didn’t feel safe out there alone, so called Doug to let him know where I was “just in case,” then high-tailed it out of there.

I tried to run a little on the way back to the car, but my body (or was it my heart?) just wasn’t willing. I looked at my Garmin. I had really wanted to get 10 miles in that day, but it was not looking good. I was being really hard on myself. I would have to hike another mile to reach my initial goal. I was already mad, feeling beat up emotionally, and a bit lightheaded and out of it. Would pushing myself to go an extra mile really do me any good today in this mental and physical state? Probably not. In fact, I decided it would likely do more harm than good. So instead I made myself a deal: I needed to get 3 hours of hiking in. I got to the parking lot with 3 minutes left to spare. So I “made” myself walk around the parking lot for a few minutes. Looking back on it now, that seems so ridiculous! Though I spent most of that 3 hours loathing myself, I also stopped along the way to admire the budding sagebrush and blooming Manzanita. And I’d begun to check out that new-to-me trail. The day was not lost after all. So why did I feel so lost?

The next day I still felt emotionally traumatized. I decided that perhaps I should take it easy on myself physically for a while. I cut my running back to every other day. I removed all information about pace from my Garmincarbs back into my diet. I made it a point to be more aware of what I was eating when and how I felt afterward. I ate dinner a little earlier so that I was just a little bit hungry by the time I went to bed.

A couple days later I decided to try running again. At first I wasn’t into it. The thought popped into my mind that perhaps I wasn’t “worth it.” Then I started telling myself “I AM worth it!” Within 5 minutes I felt good. Another 10 minutes and I felt damn fine and was having a good time. I explored another nearby trail that I had only run right past before. Another short trail I had never run up before. I’d always hiked it. But that day I ran up it, and that made me feel really good. I finished the run on a high note and felt that everything was going to be just fine for Peterson Ridge, which was just over a week away. After that I had a couple of great 1/2-marthon distance trail runs out at Phil’s Trail system checking out another new-to-me trail (VooDoo, and it totally rocks!).

Wednesday the 6^th I awoke feeling emotionally “on the edge” again. I was tempted to call off a run date with a friend and soon-to-be friend. Instead of giving in to my fear of what was yet to be, I decided to take the risk and go on the run. I am so glad I went! I had the wonderful opportunity to run with a blind triathlete that day. Nancy and my friend had met recently at a 1/2-marathon training program and Nancy had been instructing Lisa how to be her guide on runs. Nancy let me guide her on the run back. This experience totally blew my mind! I had to be so focused on the trail to keep her safe that I had no time to worry about myself or the thoughts swimming in my head. And this person who had just met me half an hour earlier trusted me! Nancy taught me a lesson that day and I look forward to running with her much more in the future.

I’ve heard from many others that after a certain point, you gotta make running more about other people than yourself. I am beginning to find this true. I had gotten to the point of wondering “is this all there is?” Am I really doing all this just for me? While running is “worth it” to help me stay physically and emotionally fit and learn about myself and what I am capable of, running for others can give it so much more meaning. Much like setting an intention for your yoga practice, you can also set an intention for your run— a person or cause to keep in mind that you wish to send love and support to. You might run to raise funds for a charity or bring awareness to a cause. You might run for all those who wish they could run, but are unable to. What other ways might you be able to lift up others through your running?

Running with Nancy that day got me out of my own head and thinking about how I could be of service to others. It also put me in a much better frame of mind to visualize running the Peterson Ridge 40-mile race feeling strong, and crossing the finish line happy with plenty of energy remaining. Good thing, since the race was now just four days away. I won’t deny I have challenging, negative, down-on-myself days (sometimes even weeks!), but sure do have a knack for pulling myself together just in time for a race. Only I can change my thoughts to cause the change I seek in life. I could either choose to follow my current path and probably have a crappy race, or start visualizing the end result that I desired and trust that everything would turn out just fine. It didn’t just turn out fine though, it turned out great! I am beginning to apply this technique in more areas of my life. If I can crawl out from under years of negativity and feeling worthless, you can too!

Next up— Peterson Ridge Rumble Race Report!

Gorge Waterfalls 50k — 32 Miles of BadAssness!

I used to be afraid to run without listening to music on my iPod. I’ve never been comfortable being alone with myself or my thoughts. They have a tendency to run amok and music helps drown out the internal chatter. A little over two months ago, my coach had me do a 6.5 mile run with no music, no Garmin, and even no water. At first it was scary, but in the end I found it quite refreshing. I have continued to do this on my own once a week on a run in the 6 to 8 mile range. I listen to my breath, my footfalls, notice my form, listen to my body; watch thoughts come and go, think about everything and nothing at the same time, and notice my surroundings. I have gone so far as to run my last two 50k races iPod-free and didn’t miss it a bit. Of course, the iPod is stashed in my pack just in case I hit a rough patch and need music to help pull me through. This day I opted to keep the music stashed and listened instead to the sound of creeks and waterfalls, my feet splashing through water, squishing in mud, and rain dripping through trees. It was beautiful and almost surreal.

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Upper Wahkeenah Falls near race start

The drive from Bend to Hood River the day before the Gorge Waterfalls 50k was nothing short of glorious. I drove past spectacular canyons, through green fields, rolling hills so golden and velvety-looking that I wished I could reach out and touch them. Large birds of prey plied the blue skies. The moment I hit The Dalles and began driving west through the Columbia River Gorge, I could not wipe the huge smile off my face. I wished I was a passenger instead of driver, so I could just gawk at the awesome beauty. As I drove past Rowena Plateau, then the town of Mosier, I recalled the experience of running the Columbia Gorge Marathon in fall 2009. After arriving at my hotel, the Vagabond Lodge, I got right to my pre-race routine. First I unpacked, setting out all clothing I would need (or could possibly even want) for race day. Next I made sure my drop-bags were stocked with extra supplies I might need during the race. Then it was nap time! I always take a 2 hour nap before dinner the day before a race. I slept really good. Then I drove maybe 500 feet to the restaurant next door for dinner before calling it a night. 

Steep trail along Wahkeena Creek

 Race day (March 12th) dawned gray and rainy. I had hoped to wear shorts, but decided on capris given the cool wet weather. I also chose to wear arm warmers with my short sleeve shirt and a windproof neon-yellow running vest. I brought several different hats, gloves and jackets with me so that I could change my apparel right up until race time depending on weather conditions. Racers met at Wyeth Campground on Gorton Creek about half way between Hood River and Cascade Locks. After check-in, we were bussed to the race start at Wahkeena Falls just west of Multnomah Falls. That seemed like a really long ride! I was glad the bus I was on arrived first, meaning no line for the porta-potties! As I stood around visiting with friends Lori, Esther, Stan, Anna and Bob anticipating the race start, it began to rain, so I quickly added to my running apparel and stashed a windbreaker in my pack should I find myself needing an extra layer later. 

At 8am we were off and running, but not for long. The first two miles feature 1,500 feet of elevation gain and many trail switchbacks. Most runners quickly took to power-hiking. After all, we had many miles left to go and had to pace ourselves! Before long we came across the first of many non-bridge stream crossings. There was a narrow log over the stream. I watched runners ahead of me teetering precariously on this log trying not to get their feet wet. Screw that! I wasn’t about to attempt balancing on this little log and risk slipping off. Instead I just went right through the creek! Only a mile in and my feet were already wet! I was thankful that I don’t have problems running with wet feet like some people do. I stopped at Fairy Falls and had the person behind me (Gary) take a picture of me.

Fairy Falls and me!

The muddy, rocky trail continued up the ridge. I heard my friend Anna behind me. In every race Anna and I have done together, she always passes me by mile 3 and finishes at least an hour before me. Today would be no different. She passed me by at 2.25 miles, just as the trail topped-out and smoothed-out for a bit before intersecting the very rocky, technical trail along Multnomah Creek leading down to the top of Multnomah Falls. 

Me, Gary & Multnomah Creek; photo: Candace Burt 

I’d forgotten how rocky the Gorge trails are. This section above Multnomah Falls was a sobering reminder that I would not be anywhere near a 50k PR (personal record) today. Along this stretch of trail I felt the need to walk a lot. A young pediatrician from Corvallis named Seth pulled up behind me and we chatted for a bit. (An image of Seth Meyers from Saturday Night Live immediately popped into my mind). Turns out our race schedules align. He also ran Hagg Lake 50k three weeks earlier and will be running Peterson Ridge Rumble 40-miler in April. I told him that I’d really like to turn around to see what he looked like, but felt I could not do so on this technical, rocky terrain. I saw a flash of light behind me, then he said “I just took a picture of your backside to show my wife.” A bit later he passed me and turned back saying “here’s what I look like.” He was just as cute as the picture of Seth Meyers in my mind. 

The paved switchbacks coming down from the top of Multnomah Falls were a joy. It was one of the few places on the course I could pick up the pace and stretch out my legs for a while. Half way down from the top of Multnomah Falls we hopped onto the Gorge Trail 400, which essentially parallels the I-84 freeway. After traversing around Oneonta Gorge, then behind Ponytail Falls, we were dumped out onto a paved access road paralleling the freeway for 2 miles until the first aid station at John B. Yeon State Park. 

Ponytail Falls; the trail goes behind the falls

This stretch of road is where I was able to pick it up to a “blistering” 9:30–10:00 pace. I was surprised to see so many people walking along here. I told myself I needed to run it in to the aid station, then I could take a break. I pulled up on a young man who was walking very slowly. He said he had blown out both his knees and was going to drop from the race at the aid station, which he hoped was right around the corner. I said that it was less than a mile away, wished him well, and went on my way. He was not the only person to drop from the race due to knee problems. The rocky trails played havok on weak ankles and knees.

I don’t remember the first water station at mile 5.5. There were three water-only stations on the course and two manned full-service aid stations. Water-only stops were at 5.5, 15.5 and 25.5 miles. The full aid stations were at mile 10.9 and 20.2. Ten miles between aid stations is not such a big deal for a road or easy trail race, but my going was so slow that it was easily 2.5+ hours between aid stations and a little lonely, which I considered good practice for future races! I pulled into the first aid station and immediately recognized facebook friend and ultrarunner Cheri Redwine who was volunteering that day. Though we had never met before, I feel like I already know her and gave her a hug. I had a cup of Coke, some boiled potatoes dipped in salt, restocked my energy gels from my drop bag and waited in the rain for the porta-potty. I was wet literally from head to toe and cold (when not moving). I could have easily gone to a miserable mental place, but didn’t bother. What good would that have done? I thought to myself that stopping here would be a very nice and still challenging 11 mile run. However, I still had over 20 miles to go and was not about to stop. Heck, I was just getting warmed up!

Elowah Falls

Back on to the Gorge Trail, we passed by the base of Elowah Falls. This is a very special place for me, and my husband and I had placed a geocache here (appropriately called Elowah Falls) in 2004. There was so much water coming over the falls that it felt like being in a shower with a powerful fan pointed right at you. I let out a whoop as I ran over the bridge at the base of the falls and was pelleted with water. This experience alone was trail running at its best! I’m still beaming about the experience as I type. Three meandering miles later, we passed by the Wahclella Falls parking and trailhead just after mile 15. I was expecting to see the 15.5 mile water station here. It would have been the perfect spot. But there was no water. 

Wild Bill (photo credit: Candace Burt)

Along the next stretch I met new friends Tracy (from Seattle), Gary, and Bill, who I later found out is referred to as “Wild” Bill. He did look pretty wild in his black outfit with accents of hot pink, neon yellow, and bright orange. The three of us had been near each other the entire course, leapfrogging occasionally on the trail and at aid stations. I enjoy seeing the same familiar, smiling faces on a course. Tracy had long, flowing red hair and beautiful porcelain skin. I’ve always wanted to be a redhead. She was running the race with friends. I didn’t learn much about Gary or Bill, but enjoyed seeing them (and then pulling away from them) and cheering them on.

One of several talus slope crossings

Miles 16, 17, and 18 came and went without sight of the 15.5 mile water stop. I was concerned about the people behind me who carried only one water bottle. I wondered if some person not-in-the-know had taken or moved the water. At mile 18.8, after crossing the suspension bridge at Eagle Creek, there it was— water jugs on a table by the trail! I started to wonder if all the rest of the aid stations would be 3 miles further as well and if this race might turn out to really be 55k. That would be very James Varner-esque. (Race director James Varner is known for challenging race courses that often are longer than advertised.)

The second manned aid station was only about a mile farther than advertised, which is close enough for me. I downed a cup of Coke, a cup of Mt. Dew, and a cup of hot, salty potato soup. The porta-potty was occupied and I didn’t want to wait for it, so got back on the trail. After all, the entire forest is my bathroom! After several minutes, I saw Tracy, who had left the aid station before me, come running back down the trail toward me. She had forgotten her water bottle at the aid station! Luckily she hadn’t gone far. Before long she overtook me again. She had picked up the pace so she could catch back up to her friends. I wouldn’t see Tracy again until the race finish.

THE downed tree— it was bigger than it looks here!

Unfortunately, in the excitement of the 21-mile aid station, I had forgotten to restock my pack with supplies from my drop bag. I am fortunate however, that I usually carry enough nutrition supplies (mostly energy gels) on me for the race and just use my drop bags as extra insurance or in case someone else needs something. I was confident I had enough energy gels on me to finish the run, but I might not have any extra if I needed them. Suddenly, there was a HUGE tree across the trail. We had been warned that there were several in the last 10 miles. Now my legs were getting fatigued and I couldn’t even come close to throwing my leg over this tree, which was more than waist high. I decided to use a branch as a step to climb over the tree. As I placed my foot on the branch, I looked down and saw an unopened GU energy gel laying right there! I quickly snatched it up. This could prove to be my manna from heaven!

Suddenly at mile 22, I got very happy. Yes, I actually looked at my watch to see what mile I was at when it hit. Nobody was around, but I smiled and laughed to my heart’s content. It’s not true that only crazy people laugh to themselves. Happy people do too, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I also started talking to myself. Well, actually talking to my glutes. On some of the uphills, they were burning. I actually said out loud to them, “that’s right glutes, you take this. There’s a reason I’ve been working on making you stronger, so you can take the brunt of it. Go ahead, you can take it.”

Dry Creek Falls and me

At mile 23, we were required to do a short out-and-back (about 2/3 mile round trip) up a forest road to Dry Creek Falls. There we crossed the creek on the concrete remnants of an old dam of some sort, and picked up a rubber band to prove that we had been to this spot. Just as I finished the out-and-back, my friend Esther was just starting up. She gave me a big hug and said how proud of me she was. This fired me up a lot. Pick up the pace, I thought to myself, don’t let Esther catch up with you!

The 25.5 mile water stop came at mile 27. It was weird— there was just a bunch of jugs of water sitting in the middle of the trail. I didn’t see any trail access nearby, so they must have been brought in by wheelbarrow? There was one more long uphill (ok, probably not much more than a mile, but at mile 28, when you’re fatigued, hiking at an 18 minute pace, and anticipating the finish, a mile can seem like a long way). Since this was a Varner course, I didn’t know if I truly had only 3 miles remaining, or if it would be longer. I’ve run 50ks that were a little short, and some that were a little long. What would this one turn out to be? 

Herman Creek

The farther I ran, the better I felt. Sure, I was getting fatigued, but I felt great! I wondered if someone not in-the-know saw me, if they could tell I had run 31 miles. I didn’t feel like I had. I truly felt like I could do another 20, though I wouldn’t have wanted it to be on that technical trail. With only a mile or  two remaining I started to get a little light headed. It was past time for another gel! It’s amazing how quickly time passes on the trail. It will seem like I just had a gel, when it’s time for another already. I reached into my pocket for what I thought was my last remaining gel— the one I had found on the trail. It wasn’t one of my favorite flavors, but it would do. I was ecstatic to discover that I still had a cherry-lime Gu Roctane remaining. Jackpot! Within minutes, I was perked-up for the finish.

One of numerous shallow creek crossings

I knew that the finish at Wyeth Campground is right on Gorton Creek near the freeway, so I started listening for creeks. Nope, not that one. Not that one either. Then I started to hear the freeway, so knew I must be getting close. As soon as the next creek came into view, I recognized it right away as Gorton Creek (my husband and I placed a geocache upriver at the base of Gorton Creek Falls: Gorton Creek Scramble in 2004).

 The Gorge is a very special place to me because it is where I did many of my first “big” hikes when I first began getting active and losing weight. Several photos of obese-me in these locations are included in my blog post “You don’t have to be skinny to do really cool things.” My husband and I enjoy the Gorge so much that we placed other geocaches there besides the one at Gorton Creek: one at Elowah Falls, one upriver from Elowah Falls which we called “Overcoming Acrophobia: Upper McCord” and one at Dry Creek Falls mere feet from where we picked up the rubber bands during the race.

This was definitely the most challenging 50k I’ve run yet (I’ve done eight to date). It took me an hour longer than my previous longest 50k time. It was full of narrow trails, steep switchbacks, mud, bridgeless creek crossings, mudslides, trail wash-outs, and rocks, rocks, rocks! I truly felt like a total bad-ass for 32 miles!

Post race (back left to right) Lori, Esther, Anna, unknown, Gary; Tracy and me

My First 50-Mile Race (An Adventure Story)

Originally posted as facebook note on October 20, 2010

Trail along the American River

A few weeks ago I was extremely fatigued, unmotivated, wasn’t having fun running, was voraciously hungry, had gained several pounds, wasn’t sleeping well, and having strange problems with my ankles. It seemed I had done the thing I was always afraid of: I had overworked myself. Some might say I was over-trained. There was less than a month until my first 50-mile race— Rock’n River 50— and I felt like a basket case.

Instead of pushing my body further, I listened. I had just enough time that I could back off training, sleep and eat to my heart’s content, and hopefully be back enough to finish the race. So I took over a week off from pretty much all exercise. I felt like a slug, but knew it had to be done. Then I did an easy 4-mile trail run, but was exhausted the next day. I took a couple more days off, and then decided it was time for an easy return. I ran for 30-60 minutes easy for 4 days in a row. I wasn’t concerned at all about my pace; I just wanted to have fun running again and get a little more time on my feet. After all, it wasn’t about my training over the last month, but the entire body of work that I’d put in all year.

Scott, manager at Fleet Feet Bend had cut out pieces of the tongue and collar of my shoes that had been irritating both my inside ankles. It did not comfort me that my shoes required modification, but I had to go with it. I also started wearing compression socks while running, as opposed to only for recovery. A week before the race I was back up to 3 hours running, and wasn’t having any ankle issues. It was “go” time. I just had to trust that by race morning, everything would be fine. Trusting has worked for me in the past, and I didn’t have another choice this time either. (If you think you’re screwed, you surely will be.)

In the past I have had running dreams where I felt good at 16 or 18 miles. This time I dreamed that I was running and still feeling good at 52 miles! While my body was repairing itself, my mind was seemingly trying to comfort me during sleep. It worked.

Two days before the race my flight from Redmond could not land in Portland due to dense low fog, and landed in Seattle instead. I could not get a flight to Sacramento until 8pm that evening, so was stuck in the Seattle airport for 10 hours. At least the airport had free wi-fi to keep me entertained. I found an unused gate where I hung out most of the day and was able to nap on a bench. Upon arriving in Sacramento at 10pm, I nearly freaked when my bag did not come off the plane. It turns out my bag had beat me to Sacramento. I finally got to my hotel at 11:30pm. Had I flown to Sacramento the day before the race, I would have gotten only 3 hours of sleep. I was thankful I had allowed an extra day and could sleep all I wanted to the day before the race.

The trail meandered through this cool rock garden

Race morning I got up before 3am. The shuttle bus to the start was to leave at 4:30am SHARP and I wasn’t going to miss it! 4:30am came and went with no bus to be seen. Just days before, race director Robert had talked with the bus company who had confirmed the 4:30am pickup time. Turns out though, the driver had been told that 5:30am was the pickup time. In addition, the original driver was not answering her cell phone that morning and a last-minute replacement driver had to be found.

The replacement driver was flustered from the beginning, and had no idea where we were going or how to get there. She had a printout of turn-by-turn directions but was having trouble reading and following them. She made several wrong turns that took us many miles out of our way. Once we finally arrived at the race start, I gave the driver a hug as I got off the bus and told her I hoped her day got better. She began to cry. Poor thing! Robert had held off the 6:30am start for as long as he could, but by the time the bus got to the race start the first runners had long gone. A dozen of us comprised the “second start” at 7:42 am. I wasn’t thrilled about having to run more during the heat of the day or finish in the dark, but at least I had a small headlamp with me. There was nothing I could do about the situation, so decided to make the best out of it.

The Rock’n River 50 course is the opposite of the American River 50 course and has more elevation loss than gain. It is run on the American River Trail from the Auburn Dam Overlook to Sacramento. When I first signed up, I thought I was selling myself short. But let me tell you, it was much harder than I thought it would be. Fifty miles is a long way no matter how easy and fast the course is. The first 3 miles were good downhill on road so I clipped along at a decent pace knowing these would probably be my fastest miles of the day. At the first aid station I briefly met the race director and shook his hand. Then it was on to the dirt trail for the next 20 miles or so. Somewhere between miles four and five I saw a trail marker: 52 miles. Remembering my dream from a few weeks before, I nervously laughed out loud. I hoped this wasn’t the 52-mile spot where I felt good. I wish I had taken a picture of the marker— it looked just like it did in my dream!

Some of the trail was challenging. There were large rocks requiring big steps down over them and waterbars with large drops on the other side. After feeling a couple twinges in my lateral left ankle I started walking these sections. There were some really interesting rock formations along this stretch and beautiful, expansive views of water and green. I was happy and felt good. The next section was rolling hills. None were very long, but they were one after another. Some were steep enough that I felt I couldn’t effectively run up them without tiring myself out, so I walked most of the ups. I started passing people around mile 14. They must have been “regular” starters because they hadn’t been on the late shuttle bus with me. I began looking forward to the wide asphalt bike path starting at mile 23. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about my footing.

As the sun rose higher in the sky and the temperature warmed, I got slower and walked more frequently. I am never happy with myself when this happens, but knew I had to do it so I would have a greater chance of feeling good later. Though I was beginning to get hot and fatigued, I was still feeling good and had plenty of energy to do a little song and dance number for the aid station volunteers at Beals Point at mile 23. From here on out, the course was mostly on a wide asphalt bike path. I was ready to not worry about rocks and footing on horse paths any more, and though it was much more boring, I welcomed the surface change.

 I have never relied much on aid stations, but began utilizing them more during this race, especially after the first 18 miles. I poured cups of water over my head and stuffed ice in my sports bra, which proved really effective at keeping my core cool. When I tired of the sweetness of gels and had problems chewing and swallowing anything dry (crackers, energy bars, etc), I turned to grapes. This was a risk, as I’d never eaten grapes on the run before, but they worked really well for me. They were easy to chew, refreshing, moist, and really perked me up. I stuffed my mouth full of them at aid stations and grabbed a few more for the trail. I also downed a cup of Pepsi at each aid station. I probably spent more time at aid stations than I should have, but felt that by doing so, I was saving time later on (begin with the end in mind). I didn’t want to forget to do anything that would benefit me (been there, done that!), so took the time to stop and think while I was there. At 27.7 miles and my first drop bag, I changed my shirt, which was really refreshing. This shirt was sleeveless, and I immediately felt cooler. I was glad I had thought to throw it in at the last minute.

Folsom State Prison

From before the halfway point on, my Garmin showed that each aid station was at least a mile farther than it was reported to be. Either my Garmin was off, or I’d be running more than 50 miles! Even though the miles continued to add up, as the sun got lower in the sky and the temperature cooled a bit, I was able to run more, and faster too! By mile 40 I had gotten back into a groove. I didn’t feel great, but I didn’t feel bad either. I was just somewhere in the middle, and for some reason, that’s not an easy place for me to be. With me things tend to be on one end of the spectrum or the other. I have difficulty dealing with mediocrity. I questioned why I do this; that maybe I should just stick to easier, shorter stuff and be a cheerleader for others in need of support and encouragement. 

Around mile 40, a local runner caught up to me. Tricia was running 15 miles that day, training for her first marathon in December. Though this woman did not know me, she continually told me how amazing I am, that I was her hero, and asked how I “could still be running after more than 40 miles?” We ran together for the next seven miles or so. In my highly emotional state, I told her things about myself that few people know; as if by telling her about my shortcomings, maybe she would decide I wasn’t so amazing or the hero she thought I was after all. She continued to tell me how wonderful I was and how great I was doing. The last couple of miles we ran side-by-side saying nothing, but rocking out to our own music. I sang along with both the uplifting and angst-filled tunes filling my ears. Music motivates me and makes me fight harder.

Tricia was the first of two angels I met on the trail that day. (Wow, I just now realized that she was sent to be the support and encouragement that I really needed that day.) About 48 miles in, she left me to head toward home with the last words that I only had 3 miles left and I could so do this! It was nearly dark, so I donned my headlamp and pressed on. I was tired and my legs ached, but it didn’t get any worse, so I just kept running. I wanted to run all the way to the finish line. Little did I know the turn off to the finish line was only a mile ahead. I never saw it. And since I was in the hurried “2nd start” group, didn’t get the pre-race briefing on where the turn to the finish was. I thought about the runners behind me and wondered how they were faring. I knew some of them didn’t have headlamps.

While running alone in the dark, I saw low animal eyes looking toward me and heard rustling in the trees and bushes. My mind ran amok. Since I was on an urban trail surrounded by a wide swath of trees, I wondered how many bad men might be lurking in the bushes waiting for a lone female runner to pass by. There is no lighting along the trail. I tried to exude confidence as I ran along. After all, I should see the turnoff for the finish line at any time. I saw a dark animal running ahead of me in the middle of the trail. I thought it was probably a wayward black cat trying to get away from me. As I gained on it, I could see that it was a skunk. Great, I hoped that I would not get sprayed by a skunk after all this! I picked up my pace and without looking back, passed the skunk on the far side of the trail.

Trail-side Turkeys!

I saw two vehicles heading toward me on the path. I thought that I must be nearing the finish, and that they were surely headed out to check on runners still on the course. They kept driving past me I figured, because I was still running and looked like I was going to make it. Then two cyclists sped past me yelling “you’re almost there!” which gave me hope. I watched and listened for signs of a finish line, but none came. I finally realized that I was far past the finish and didn’t know where I was (other than I was still on the American River Trail and heading west). My mind quit on me, and I slowed to a walk. I looked at my watch and saw that I was nearly 53 miles in. I had made it past 52 miles feeling relatively good after all! I chuckled and smiled. While I was scared, I was also happy that my dream really did come true.

I thought about turning around, but didn’t know where I would go. I decided I would just keep moving forward and would eventually run into someone or get to a public place. I could see downtown Sacramento getting closer on the other side of the river. More miles ticked by. Then my second angel arrived in the form of an older man on a bicycle. I flagged him down and explained my situation. I asked if he had a cell phone and could call someone— a friend or coworker perhaps— who had internet access and could look up the race director’s phone number on the race website. At this point, the thing I was most concerned about was a worried RD out looking for me, or perhaps getting him in trouble because I was still out on the course and “lost” thus jeopardizing his chance to secure the proper permits to hold the race next year. Angel 2 told me the only person he could call was his 83-year old mother. Great! I had stopped the loneliest bachelor in all of Sacramento for assistance!

Angel’s Mom got on the internet, but didn’t have the computer skills to get the information I needed. Just then another man on a bicycle came along and I again explained my situation. Something about him was just not right. It sounded like my angel was getting ready to leave me with guy #2. I whispered to Angel to please not leave me with this guy. There was something not right and I didn’t trust this new guy, but I did trust him. So Angel asked if I could keep going and he’d take me to someplace public and safe. He wanted me to hop on his bicycle (which was electric). I said No, I wanted to finish this under my own power. He replied, “that must be a runner thing.” Yep, sure is! I started running again as he lead the way through Discovery Park and then across the river to an exit off I-5 where there were several hotels. I decided to go into the Comfort Inn and stopped my Garmin— 56.6 miles!

I explained my situation to the front desk attendant, who looked up RD Robert’s phone number on the race website. I finally got in touch with Robert and told him where I was, that I was OK, and that I was going to call a cab to take me back to my car at the early morning shuttle location. I was so thankful that I had put $40 cash in my pack before leaving the hotel room that morning (my cab did not take credit cards) and the cabbie got a huge tip. I was just happy to be back to my car and wanted to brighten someone else’s day too.

This photo courtesy of Facchino photography

By the time I got back to my hotel it was 10pm and I didn’t want to go anywhere. So I ate popcorn, greek yogurt, crackers, protein bars and soup cups that I had bought at the grocery store the day before. I really had hoped to be out having dinner and a good time with some new friends after the race, but this would just have to do. I wondered if the people behind me had finished OK in the dark. I was glad this happened to me and not them. Robert and I spoke at length about our experiences that day. He is so thoughtful and giving. Even though I never crossed the finish line, he gave me an official finishing time and will send me the finisher’s jacket. I am pleased to no end.

Now I have a lot of things to think about. I almost feel like I need a debriefing after this experience. A lot of things went wrong. Are they trying to tell me that I am headed the wrong direction in life? Or perhaps they are showing me just how strong I am and that I can do more than I think I can. More than likely I am just reading too much into it. Things happen. I’ve heard great stories from my ultrarunning buddies and wished I had one to tell. Well, now I do.

On the flip side, a lot of things went right. I had a headlamp and some cash (next time I’ll take a cell phone). I listened to my body. I fueled smartly, even when I didn’t feel like it, and quickly found a plan B that worked well when plan A didn’t. While at times I didn’t feel great, I never felt bad either. I had no cramping, nausea, chafing, or blisters. I just kept moving forward at a pace I felt I could keep up “forever,” whether that was walking or running. I always had the end in mind and wasn’t about to do anything that would compromise my well-being during those later miles or might cause me to not finish. That was just not an option.

Overall I had a good experience and learned a lot about myself in the process. During the latter stages of the race (mostly after dark when I was “lost”) I questioned why I do this and if I really wanted to continue doing so. The next day however, I was back online thinking about races for next year! I should stop kidding myself. I enjoy running and the challenges and rewards that come along with it. I don’t have to be front-of-the-pack to have a good time or feel a sense of accomplishment. As long as I keep having fun, I’ll keep pressing forward, one step at a time.