Hellgate 2019 aka "Floodgate"

    I've started writing this report several times throughout year, and just never seemed to be able to finish before life distractions got in the way. Hello, pandemic! Since it is Hellgate week yet again, why not try to put my memories  down on paper before I attempt this ridiculous race yet again in a few short  days? I swore off Hellgate after last year's atrocious weather, but not being able to run a race since February of this year gave me a renewed desire to run it. There is a pull for Hellgate in particular that I don't feel for many others that somehow draws me back year after year. After running ultras for 20+ years, there aren't many races that scare me anymore. Sure, I get nervous before each and every one still. I wonder if I'll run the way I want to, or if I'll perform the way I think I should. But rarely does a race still intimidate and scare me, but Hellgate truly does. Maybe I should run more 100s?! If you've never read Aaron Schwartzbard's lovely breakdown of the course, you really should. Here is the link:

Aaron's report. It sums up the toughness and magic that is Hellgate so very well, and explains why so many come back year after year after year.

 

    Up until Hellgate 2019, I had only experienced worse conditions twice in my ultrarunning career. I remember these two situations very clearly as they are seared into my brain. The first was the "SMAR" or the Smoky Mountain Adventure Run. Horton used to host a yearly "fun run" around the beginning of January for added enjoyment (or added suffering). The Smokies, for those who aren't from the East Coast, is a beautiful and tough section of the AT in North Carolina, covering about 71 miles with only one road crossing. Only one chance for aid (or one chance to quit), if you are trying to run it all at once. It's tough and beautiful and gnarly no matter when you do it.The year I did it, there was a group of maybe 6 of us that ran the first 35-40 miles together during the day. It was snowy and cold, but pleasant. We met our awesome crew (George Wortley) at the single road crossing around dark. All but three chose to stop.  It was just myself, Horton, and Jonathan Basham who stupidly and stubbornly decided to go on. I distinctly remember huddling forlornly in a bathroom at the trailhead watching the van drive away. None of us actually wanted to continue, I think, but there was no turning back. That night the trail basically meandered along a ridge for the entire 30-ish miles.  There weren't big climbs or descents, but there was several inches of snow on the ground making it very hard to run. Being up on a ridge, there was a steady strong wind blowing the entire night chilling us to the bone. I'm guessing the wind chill was somewhere below zero. We couldn't really run, so we just walked trying to stay warm. Our water froze, and it was so cold that you didn't want to stop to take off your gloves to eat. I doubt any of us ate more than a few hundred calories all night. We made it, but I did end up with frostbite on my big toes and on my heels. Snow and ice had frozen to the back of my shoes without me even feeling it. Oh the stupidity of youth! To this day, that was the longest, coldest, worst night of my life, which I had the fortune to share with Horton and JB (Jonathan Basham). Both are finishers of Barkley and former and  current record-holders of the Long Trail in Vermont.  

Clark and I at Clingman's during the day when life was still good

The 3 survivors at the finish. My face says it all!

      The second time was during the one-and-done Tuscarora stage race in 2003, another brain child of David Horton. 252 miles on the Tuscarora Trail to be run over six days. Since the race took place in March, we encountered tons of snow, which made for very long, slow days. The leaders had to post-hole through about a foot of snow, and people took turns leading since it was so physically  draining. By day four most people were pretty much destroyed. That day had eerily similar weather to Hellgate this year-rainy and low 40's all day. Only 6 people finished that stage, and eventually went on to complete the entire stage race.  I ran with Ryan Henry and John Hayward all day, and the old saying holds true. Misery does indeed love company. I remember borrowing gloves from runners each time someone would drop out for the day. I probably went through 6-7 pairs during the day, and was still freezing. Strangely, it was one of the most fun times I've ever had because of the company and the complete absurdity of what we were doing. It was both an absolute blast, as well as a completely miserable experience. It was one of those times where you just have to laugh and enjoy the insanity of it all, or you will break down and cry. I remember running through a section of trail where the leaves on the trees had a heavy layer of ice on them. The branches hung down so low we had to duck and squat our way through that section. It was craziness, and I have never been more proud of finishing a race to this day.

                                       

Tuscarora 2003 during day 4
photo-John Hayward

    

Icing after day 2 or 3

start of one of the days of Tuscarora. Lots of legends in this picture!

    Now back to Hellgate 2019. I wish I had known what was coming in 2020. I'm sure I would have cherished the opportunity to run an actual race with actual people during an actual event much more than I did at the time. I'd attempted Hellgate 6 times previously, with 5 finishes and one DNF (due to Hellgate eyes). I thought I knew what to expect, but this race in particular has a way of humbling you. All of my previous finishes would be what Horton refers to as "sissygates"-races with decent weather and  conditions. I've run in cold years, but not THE cold year. I ran the hot year, but it wasn't that bad. I missed the ice year, the really cold year etc. All that to say I thought I knew Hellgate, but I was very, very wrong. Check out Sophie Speidel's excellent report from her 9th Hellgate finish to see what I mean http://shiningsultra.blogspot.com/2014/12/hellgate-2014-smackdown.html

 I knew I wanted to run Hellgate again since the moment I finished it last year in 2018. I had signed up that time at last minute on an impulsive  FOMO whim, which is never a good idea. From about mile one, my legs felt completely dead, and my heart was never really in it. I ended up having a great time running almost the entire race with Tim Spaulding, whom I had never met. We talked about all things running, life, family etc., but I was pretty grumpy the whole time. I just remember feeling so tired and lethargic the entire race, and was relieved when I finished. Note to self-never run Hellgate three weeks after JFK. A hard lesson that I think Michael Owen learned this year at Hellgate. It left a bad taste in my mouth, mainly because I didn't give it my best. I never like doing anything that way. So Hellgate was in my mind all year, and it was the one race I was actually excited to run. I had only run a few 50Ks this year, the last one being a small 50K in Pennsylvania in July. Pennsylvania does indeed "rock". So I signed up for the Stonemill 50-miler in early November as a good prep before Hellgate. The timing worked for life and family, and I knew I needed a long run/race on my legs before Hellgate. I'd never run Stonemill before, but I'd heard many good things about the race. It was exactly what my mind and body needed. I felt surprisingly good the entire day, even with all the darn running! It was a neat, low key, well-organized race which I'd recommend highly if you don't mind all the running. It also gave me five weeks in between to recover and get some solid training in. I wouldn't say my training was great, but I got a few good weeks of training including several Jarmans long runs (3-4 times up and down). I think I had a 63-mile week with 8,500 feet of vert, and a 73-mile week with about 6,000 feet of vert. My longest training run was only 20 miles (of Jarmans), but I knew my legs would hold up. I have 20+ years of running on them after all. I tapered starting two weeks out, caught a cold, and basically felt like an old, slow broken down runner. So typical taper stuff! I even cut out caffeine😭😭, which I never do. I LOVE my morning coffee, but Hellgate terrifies me more than most races. I wanted to give myself every little possible advantage. For anyone wondering, yes, I do think it was worth it. More about that later.

**side note** I wrote the previous paragraph almost a year ago. Reading it back now I can only laugh. I am in the middle of my taper now. I feel like an old, broken down runner, and I am trying to decide whether to give up my precious coffee for a week. I guess I should listen to my former self!

     I'd started stalking the weather forecast the week or two before the race. Never a good idea! The weather is going to be whatever it will be. You can't control it or change it, so why worry? Still, I couldn't help checking it several times a day. It initially called for some light rain Friday night, with the possibility of snow overnight. Sweet! I love running in the falling snow! However, it became clear as the race got closer that it would be too warm for snow. Shoot! Instead it called for a steady rain lasting the entire night into Saturday morning. Aaaaaaand that is exactly what happened. The very conditions my friend Sophie  has outright said she will NOT run in. I thought of her and that sentiment many times during the race when I was so miserably cold. When I finally just accepted that it would be wet and rainy, I was ok with it. The tougher the conditions, the better I usually do-so bring it! How silly and naïve of me...

This leads to the yearly dilemma that every Hellgate runner faces, shorts or tights. I hardly ever wear tights or capris in races. It has to be in the low 20's or colder before I'll consider tights. I had concerns this time, though, because of the rain. Running in the cold is one thing. Running in a steady cold rain for hours on end is quite another. In the few days leading up to the race I was leaning towards my capri tights, but I changed my mind at the last minute. The overnight temps weren't going to drop below 40 degrees, which meant upper 30's at the higher elevations. Even with the rain, I would rather get a little cold than overheated. I ended up wearing shorts, with a long sleeve shirt and my patagonia torrentshell rain jacket on top. For the most part that was the right decision, with a few almost fatal mistakes.

On Friday I picked my daughter up from school, dropped her off at home and headed to the pre-race dinner. This is usually when I begin questioning why in the world anyone would run Hellgate. It's Friday, and I'm tired after a long week. Instead of relaxing at home with my family, I'm driving several hours to eat dinner and stay up until midnight. Then I get to run 66 miles through the mountains...at night...in the cold...and rain. Sigh. Why don't I pick a more relaxing hobby?! Grumpily, I made it to the pre-race and checked in. I ate dinner, but skipped the pre-race briefing. I've heard it a million times before, and I really wanted to try to get some sleep before the start. I am a super light sleeper, and I don't think I've ever actually slept before Hellgate. Still, I wanted to try. I met my friend Megan Hardey and her husband sleeping in their truck in the parking lot. I climbed in the front, and proceeded to toss and turn for the next 90 minutes. I'm in awe and jealous of how easily some people can sleep. Megan was sacked out practically the whole time! At least I got to rest my eyes and body a little before the 40 minute drive to the start. Compared to my attitude before the race last year, I was actually excited to get this show on the road. Always a good sign! We drove to the start, and huddled in the truck until the very last minute since it was already drizzling/lightly raining. Promptly at 12:01am after a very poor rendition of the national anthem, we were off. I fell in almost immediately with Shannon Howell and Alissa Keith, and enjoyed chatting with them for the first few miles before they pulled away. I was wearing my rain jacket, but ripped it off after the first mile. I was so hot!!!Even with the rain, it wasn't that cold. I was perfectly comfortable in my long-sleeve and thin gloves. I tied my jacket around my waist, which made for an unexpected problem. I was wearing an ultraspire waist belt, which I had worn only once before on an easy (daytime) four-mile run the week before the race. I detest wearing anything on my head, and I was so annoyed with my Petzl Nao last year. The reactive lighting would respond to my own breathing and constantly change settings. I knew the rain would make a headlamp pretty worthless, so I figured it was worth the risk to try something new on race day. Anyway, I really liked the ultraspire light overall except for a few things. With my jacket tied around my waist, the sleeves would occasionally go in front of the light plunging me into sudden and unexpected darkness. I just had to keep tucking the sleeves into my shorts to keep them from flopping around. No big deal, really just a tad annoying. The other thing that I hadn't even thought of was that the light doesn't change directions when you turn your head. Duh, it's on your waist, not your head! I'm so used to a headlamp, that I would turn my head to see who was running next to me, or to see whether there was a turn on the trail; only to realize after a second or two that my light wasn't actually shining in that direction. In the future, I might carry a small handheld or something to shine around as needed. It wasn't a big deal, but my tired brain couldn't figure out what was going on. All that being said, I LOVED not wearing a headlamp. I'll definitely use the ultraspire light in the future!

    The first few miles just meander on a non-technical trail with no real climbing. It's a good warm-up to settle down the early jitters. This is where I usually settle in and let everyone pass me. I hardly ever feel energetic and fast at the beginning of races, much less one that starts well past my normal bedtime. After three or so miles, we crossed a stream and began our first long climb of the night. This is one of my favorite sections of the race every single year. You run up the mountain for several miles on this long gravel road. It's not technical, and on a clear night you can turn your headlamp off and run by the moonlight. Sadly, we had clouds and rain; but I do love looking behind me and watching all the headlamps snake up the road. It's a very cool and surreal experience. After jogging and hiking up the road for several miles, we crossed over the Blue Ridge Parkway, and headed down an icky, technical trail for a bit. After that, it's pretty much a blur for me. The rain continued, and I ran pretty much by myself. I arrived at aid station 3, and proceeded to consume the best grilled cheese sandwiches I've ever had in my life. I ate probably 3-4 quarters before forcing myself to stop. I knew it was probably a bad idea to eat so many, but they were soooooo warm and gooey. Apparently I needed the calories.The next section from aid station 3 to aid station 4 is long. It's around 9 miles (8.8 according to Horton), and it usually feels endless to me. It comes roughly around 3am or so, when the mind is really wanting to just go to bed. I typically fight sleepiness in this section, but I felt surprisingly alert. Maybe it was the rain or the cold, but I wasn't even remotely sleepy. My stomach, however, was another matter. I'd felt bloated and gassy since the beginning of the race-uncomfortably so. I blame the pasta dinner, rolls, and cheesecake I ate at the pre-race dinner. It was pretty miserable and uncomfortable for most of the night, but eventually a pit stop in the woods in the wee hours of the morning ended the situation. 

    The rest of the night is pretty much a blur. The drizzly rain continued, and turned into a pretty steady rain throughout the night into the early morning hours. Even running with my jacket mostly unzipped, I wasn't that cold. That is, until my first fatal mistake. I'd been wearing the Ultraspire waist light for the first time. I bought it the week before the race, and only tried it once on a short run. It had worked fabulously most of the night until the batteries died. My light was just suddenly gone! I had just entered a section of woods after aid station 4 along with a few runners when it died. They ran on, and I was in sudden complete darkness. I had to stop completely to get my pack off and get my battery charger out of the back pocket. Getting my jacket off, then my pack and getting the charger hooked up took a few minutes. By the time I was ready to go, my hands were completely numb. I couldn't get my fingers to work enough to get my jacket zipped up or my pack straps clipped back together. My jacket had side vents which I had unzipped earlier when I'd gotten hot. I couldn't zip those back up either. My gloves were completely soaked and worthless once my hands got cold. I eventually got my pack on (not clasped together though), my jacket on but unzipped and took off trying to warm up. This section to Jenning's creek has a lot of downhill. I LOVE downhills, but not when I'm trying to get my heart rate up enough to get warm. I made it to Jennings Creek (aka the breakfast aid station) in decent shape though. I'd warmed up enough to stop shivering, and was so happy to get to the almost halfway point. I think I saw Becca Weast there and she gave me the skinny on what was happening in the race while she helped me get my jacket zipped up. I tried to eat as much as I could, but I also made my second almost-fatal mistake. I'd been carrying wool mittens in my pack the entire night without feeling the need to use them. Since it was almost daylight, I figured I wouldn't need them if I'd survived without them the whole night. So I put them in my drop bag like an idiot. I then began the long climb to little cove mountain. Usually you can power hike the several miles up the road to the top, and then cruise some easy miles down the other side. This year, however, the road had a layer of ice that was hard to see. You couldn't really tell what was just water and what was ice. I kept switching back and forth from running in the middle of the road where there was some dirt and grass, to then running along the side where I could grip the ground a little better. Inevitably though, one foot would slide sideways down into the ditch, and I'd have to scramble not to fall. This went on for the entire road section. It was impossible to run or hike quickly. In just a few minutes after leaving the aid station, I was shivering uncontrollably. I can say without question that I have never, ever been so cold in a race. I was so cold it physically hurt, and I would end up making this weird grunting sound every few seconds. It somehow was the only thing that my body could do to stop the shivering for a second, and made the aching ease for just a little bit. As I made my way up the road, I decided that I was going to drop. I was seriously worried about getting hypothermic. I couldn't use my hands at all.My brain was foggy. Eating and drinking was out of the question, and life plain sucked at that moment. After what seemed like hours, I made it to Little Cove mountain, and what was supposed to be an aid station. It was basically just a few people, a truck, some water and maybe some soup? I found out later that the aid station crew had wrecked their car trying to drive up the icy road. Megan Hardey's husband, Ryan, along with Helen McDermott and a few other brave souls managed to make it there to help out. Without question, Helen and Ryan saved my race. I hobbled in like a zombie mumbling incoherently through numb lips. Helen quickly stripped off my jacket, shirt, and gloves; and gave me her shirt, dollar store gloves, and a gloriously warm hat.I looked ridiculous, but they instantly made me feel better. Ryan shoved something warm at me, broth or hot chocolate or something. He also gave me a pair of handwarmers. Ryan, I cannot tell you how amazing those were. Thank you! I was reborn at that aid station. I looked like a homeless person, but I knew I could keep going.

     As I left on my way to Bearwallow, I could feel myself coming back to life as my body temperature rose. I was able to eat again, my limbs weren't numb, and the rain had FINALLY stopped. The skies cleared, and it was an absolutely beautiful morning in the mountains. How quickly things can change! As I ran, I kept feeling better and better. I was able to get some food down. My energy levels came back up, and I started to run. I mean really run. Have you ever had that moment in a race where your legs feel like you haven't run at all? That feeling of looking up and the sky just seems more blue and clear than ever before? I'm sure it can all be traced back to calories, but I felt like I had come out of a fog. Feeling this good later in a race has only happened to me twice, and both times have been at Hellgate. Maybe that's why I keep coming back-to recapture that feeling. Whatever the reason, I made it through the devil trail (it didn't seem bad at all), and into bearwallow absolutely giddy. I had actually enjoyed the devil trail! The one and only positive about all of the rain was that the leaves on the devil trail were pretty packed down. No knee high leaves covering jagged rocks this year!

 

crossing the stream right before you hit the bearwallow aid station

Coming into the mud pit that was bearwallow
photo:Becca Weast

    I waved excited to all the friendly faces as I came into the aid station, ate some more food and went on my way!  You have about a third of the race left, and I didn't want to lose the momentum I had gained. I really enjoyed the next section, and I normally find it a tad boring. You climb up onto a ridge and stay up on the ridge for quite a while. The clouds had settled into the valley below, and it was just so beautiful. This is why I do what I do. I truly love being out there and experiencing nature as the miles go by. I even stopped to take a quick picture with my phone.

So pretty!

    I had my music going, and was in my groove as the miles seemed to fly by. I know I caught a bunch of people between Bearwallow and the finish, which is always a mental boost. I made it to the forever section, which leads to the final aid station. The year before this section had been a death march for me. I walked a lot of it, but it was so much fun this year. I caught Liz Anjos right before the aid station, who was running her first ultra. I was so impressed with her running in such miserable conditions for her first long race. She absolutely killed it! That put me in third for women coming into the last aid station, and I was told that second place wasn't too far ahead. The final 6 miles of the race is basically 3 miles up a gravel road, followed by 3 miles down to the finish. I remember just putting my head down and running up the hill as much as I could. I'd walk for maybe 10-20 seconds to catch my breath, then start jogging again. I caught 2nd place on the climb I think? I had no idea how far ahead first was, but my goal really was to try to squeak in under 14 hours. I figured first place was probably too far ahead to even try to catch. That last downhill is usually just as painful as the uphill. The quads are screaming, and the miles seem to creep by even when you think you are running pretty fast. I made it to the final mile or so on a paved country road leading back to Camp Bethel. I looked back a few times to make sure no one was catching up to me, and relaxed my pace when I realized I wouldn't make it under 14 hours. I crossed the finish line in 14:05-not my best time nor my worst. It was however, probably the hardest of my 6 Hellgate finishes, and one that I am very pleased with. I wish I could bottle the energy and enthusiasm I felt during the last 20 or so miles of the race. I'd pay good money for that! Now with Hellgate 2020 looming, I hope I can enjoy myself once again even during the inevitable suffering.

And as Aaron Swartzbard said-"When I finished, I wondered how I could have forgotten just how difficult the race was".

THE DAY THE HEAT WON

The UROC 100K

I like to think I'm tough. I'm an ultrarunner after all. As a group, we pride ourselves on completing these amazingly long and difficult races when most people would never even attempt such a thing. Yet, there I sat on a log at around mile 51 at the UROC 100K seriously contemplating dropping, and generally feeling very sorry for myself. I was dizzy and staggering all over the place. I could barely run 100 yards before having to walk. I'm pretty sure I wasn't running faster than a 15 minute mile on flat, non-technical trails by this point. The heat had done me in, and there was no coming back from it. My goal coming into the race had been top five. I was currently sitting in 5th place, but I was convinced someone would pass me at any moment. I decided that if I got passed by another woman, I would drop; which is not something I'm proud to admit. I kept turning around checking to see if anyone was coming. This was going to be an ugly death march to the finish. 

But let's back up a bit. I had intended to run the Bull Run 50-miler on April 7th, only to get a cold the week before the race. I can't tell you the last time I was sick, but that's life sometimes. It was pretty obvious the week before Bull Run that a 50-miler wasn't in the cards, so I began looking for another race. I had started to gain some fitness this spring, and was itching to get back to the trails. I was SLOWLY getting over a nagging hamstring/glute/sciatic thing that had been lingering since November of last year, and was ready for a challenge. After searching for something relatively close to home, I came upon UROC. I ran the idea by my coach, David Roche, to see what he thought about doing a trail 100K with 12,000 feet of climbing with about a month to cram😲. Always the supportive optimist, he was all for it as long as it was something I really wanted to do. I think he was a little concerned that I wouldn't be satisfied if I wasn't at the top of my game. He knows my personality too well. I'd like to think I had a realistic grasp of my fitness with only a month to do any specific training. Truthfully though, it's hard to separate your previous accomplishments from your current training. I always want to win, or to at least race to my potential. I absolutely love racing. I LOVE it.  I can't run just to finish. It's just not the way I'm wired. I really wish I could sometimes; It sure would make races a lot more enjoyable. I'm also very good at lying to myself. I could probably stop running for a year entirely, and still convince myself that I could run a 100-miler. No matter my current level of training, my mind still thinks it can run the way I have in the past. I think it's the same mentality that keeps us coming back for more, even when it hurts so much. We can lie to ourselves about all of it.

With a green light from my husband and my coach, it was a go! I could not wait to run my first real mountain ultra in two years. I was also terrified. My longest races last year were a flat, fast rails-to-trails 50K and a road marathon. Not exactly ideal training for a mountain ultra. That is exactly why I wanted to do this race. It's been a while since I really doubted my ability to finish a race. I've run over 100 ultras by now, so the question of whether or not I can finish has now shifted to how well can I run? How hard can I push myself, and just what are those limits? This race, however, would be an interesting experiment to see how my road training last year would translate to the trails. I didn't know how my quads would hold up, or if my hamstring issue would flare up after so many miles. It was terrifying and exciting at the same time.

I did what limited training I could in the month leading up to the race. I believe I topped out at around 80 miles and 7,000 feet of elevation gain (mostly on a treadmill). Taper week was the usual case of nerves, phantom pains, and irrational fears of crippling illnesses just waiting to derail my plans. Thankfully Friday finally came, and I drove down for the pre-race briefing at Skylark, a beautiful residence on the Blue Ridge Parkway with 360-degree views of the mountains.

View from Skylark

Russ Gill, the race director, had an entertaining race briefing followed by a photo op of some of the top runners and a short Q&A session. It was fun, but also slightly embarrassing. 

Pre-race briefing 📸: Greg Soutiea

Finish chute. Boy, would I be glad to see this on Saturday!

With all of the pre-race festivities done, I drove down to the start, and parked my van. I had decided to sleep in my van mainly because I'm cheap, and it was convenient. I'd set up a camping cot in the back of the van, which fit perfectly, and settled in for the night. I set my phone alarm for 4am before I forgot. After my awesome dinner consisting of a subway sandwich and white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, I took a tylenol PM and tried to sleep. Amazingly, I actually slept pretty well that night, only waking up a few times. I did have a random dream where I was in a car dealership, and someone stole my van. I was running around in a panic trying to find it so I wouldn't miss the race start. 😄I guess there always has to be at least one weird race panic dream.

Race Morning! It was finally time. I quickly ate my overnight oatmeal with peanut butter, blueberries and almond milk, and drove my van up to the finish area at Skylark. They had arranged a shuttle to get us back to the race start, so our vehicles would be waiting for us at the finish. Very nice touch, in my opinion!

After several bathroom breaks, we all lined up at the start and were off.

Camp Blue Ridge

Camp Blue Ridge right next to the start

The first 6.8 miles gradually climb up to the parkway on paved and gravel roads to aid station 1. As expected, everyone took off like it was a 10K. My plan was to hang back and go slow. I am not the type of runner who goes out hard from the gun and tries to hang on. My best races are when I hold back until the second half or last third of the race, and then catch everyone who went out too fast. It's always more fun to be the hunter than the hunted, in my opinion. Anyway, the miles went by quickly, but I was already sweating A LOT. I am not a big sweater, but it was sooooooo humid. It was only in the 60's during the early morning hours, but it did not bode well for the day ahead if I was already soaked in sweat. I ran mostly by myself until I caught up to Leah Ling, fellow SWAP member several miles into the race. I immediately felt better as we chatted all the way through the first aid station and onto the next long 11.3 mile section on Whetstone Ridge. This was a long 22 mile out and back on with only one aid station in the middle. For many people, this would decide their entire day. Run out of water here and your race was over. We ran along a ridge with no chance of any water crossings, so you better have enough water for 1.5-2.5 hours. I was wearing the new VaporMag race vest with two bottles up front and a 20oz handheld for these sections. I planned to ditch the handheld at mile 30 after we finished these two very long sections. Everything was going well, except I didn't screw one of the lids to my bottles tightly enough, and water was running down the front of my shirt. I immediately drank the entire thing before I lost all of the liquid. I knew I would need every ounce or I would be in trouble. The miles flew by as I tried to find a sustainable rhythm. Before too long we came upon Brian Rusieki, who was having a rough day. He was fighting a cold and a lower back injury that would eventually cause him to drop at the turnaround. It was fun running with someone who is usually way ahead of me, even for a few miles. Brian, I hope you heal up quickly. We caught up to Amy Rusieki as well around mile 12ish. I was having a blast talking and watching for the front runners to make their way back soon from the aid station at mile 19. 

We made it to aid station 2 where I doused myself with the wonderful ice sponges they had at each aid station. It was absolutely worth the extra 30 seconds it took to get completely soaked and cool my body down just a little. I refilled my completely empty bottles, and began the long climb heading back the way we had just come. There were 6-8 women all pretty close together chasing Amanda Basham, who had the lead. I had her pegged for the win, and figured it would be a battle for 2nd-5th. Sure enough, everyone was within striking distance. I think I was maybe 6th at this point? I was felt fantastic, in a good flow and feeling like this might be a good day. Then I hit mile 25 and my first low. It was really starting to warm up by now. This direction was more uphill than the other direction with some grindy hills along the ridge, and it just started to wear on me. I took a  gel hoping to snap out of the slump. I came off the trail at mile 30, and saw David Horton waiting for me! I knew he might show up, having biked up from Lynchburg that morning. It was nice to see a familiar face, and he helped me find my drop bag. More ice sponges, a starbucks espresso, some salt and vinegar chips, and off I went. I still felt like I was struggling a bit, but I figured so was everyone else. We ran along the parkway for a bit, back down the gravel road we had come up that morning, then up a yucky climb to Skylark. We ran tantalizingly close to the finish line around mile 35ish? before being sent back out for the second half of the race. I was spending way more time at the aid stations than I normally do trying to cool down, drink, and get my heart rate under control. I was yoyo-ing with Sheila Vibert through here. I was struggling to run up the gradual climbs, while she was on cruise control on the hills. I would catch back up on the downhills, and we went back and forth like this for a while. The course eventually got back on trails as we ran through the Slacks Overlook and Torrey Ridge sections. Mile 35-45 kind of blurs together in my mind, but I remember that it was HOT with barely any breeze. I felt like a lobster being not-so-slowly boiled to death. I thought I was still running pretty well in spite of the heat, and was in 4th place. I knew Sheila was running well, and probably not to far behind me. I had no idea who else might be back there too, so I was running a little scared. 

Then it all came to a grinding halt around mile 45. I was running along Torry Ridge, which is super technical. Normally, I love, love, love technical running, but I was really dizzy and weak all of a sudden. I didn't trust my legs, so I began walking even on the downhills. Not surprisingly, Sheila came flying by me on a downhill looking like she was on a mission. Now, I was in 5th, crap! I was literally staggering and stumbling over the rocks just hoping to get off this section as quickly as possible.

Typical Torry Ridge trail

This all led to me sitting on a log about 13 miles from the finish contemplating my poor life choices. The problem was that I didn't have a legitimate reason to stop. Sure I felt bad, but so what?! I wasn't puking, I wasn't peeing blood (although I truthfully wasn't peeing much at all), I didn't have an injury and so on. I just felt completely spent, and was disappointed to be in 5th. It was a good lesson in humility, I guess. I'm sure the heat had a lot to do with it, but I can't remember the last time I felt this bad ( I probably think this during every race). I literally could not run unless it was obviously downhill. The one saving grace was the ten or more streams crossings we had in the last 10 miles. I unashamedly sat down in every single one, even if I had just crossed a stream a few minutes before. At this point, I had little hope of catching any of the women in front of me, and I just wanted to survive. There was one horrible 1,000 foot climb at mile 58. The ironic part was that I was still able to climb pretty well, even though I couldn't run to save my life. I'd been thinking about this climb all day, trying to prepare my mind for the discomfort. It wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. I think I powered up that climb about as quickly as I had been "running" the previous flat trail miles. I made it to the last aid station around mile 59, and I was committed to finishing now. There was no way I was quitting with about 4 miles to go, most of them on roads. My legs came back as my brain sensed the finish was near. The course dumps back out on the Parkway for the final few miles to the finish. I ran as hard as I could as I kept peeking behind me to see if anyone was in sight. I was still terrified of being passed in the final few miles. I swear I saw a person about 3/4 of a mile behind me. I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, so I ran as hard as I possibly could to make sure they didn't catch me. I was running so hard I started dry-heaving right next to the port-o-potties about a half mile from the finish. The final insult was this short but steep climb up the hill at skylark to the finish chute. I walked the entire hill straight through the finish line in 12:53:43. There was no running left in me, and I had no desire to try to run simply for a good finishing picture. I was too tired to care. I think I was more relieved than anything, and just happy it was over! In case you were wondering, the next finisher was sixteen minutes behind me, and a guy, so who knows if I actually saw someone or just imagined it.

A few minutes after I finished when I was able to get off the ground 📸 Francesca Conte

Women's podium

Now, A few days later, I'm really happy about the whole thing. I was able to run a grueling 100K with zero mountain training, and was still able to be competitive. I'm grateful that my body is strong enough to run ultras. This wasn't my best race or my worst, but I got to spend a day in the mountains enjoying God's creation. What a great Mother's Day gift! I want to thank all of my sponsors for believing in me-Nathan Hydration, Drymax Socks, Rabbit apparel, and Huma gels. I also want to thank my amazing husband for holding down the fort while I was gone. I love you, honey!

Gear:

Shirt: Pearl Izumi tank

Shorts: Rabbit Hopper shorts

Sports Bra: Nike Pro

Socks: Drymax hyper thin crew

Shoes: Pearl Izumi trail N2 (I've been saving these)

Pack: VaporMag with 2 bottles (size SM, but would use XS next time)

Handhelds: Nathan speedshot plus flask, and the old 20oz. quick draw plus for the Whetstone Ridge sections

Food:

10-15 S caps/salt stick tabs ( I lost count)

15-20 gels-mostly Huma gels, but also some GUs from the aid stations

2 honey stinger chew packs

3 gin-gins

a few jolly ranchers

2 bottles of coke and some at the aid stations

tons of water

1 pack of Tailwind

some pickles

a few potato slices with salt

2 oranges

2 ibuprofen 

a little chicken broth

There are probably some things I've forgotten, but that is most of it.

The Hellgate experiment

     I might be on a roll with another blog so soon after my last one. Don't get used to it though! I just have some time, since I'm tapering for my marathon. Do people actually taper for marathons? I feel sort of silly actually, since the race is "short" for me. On the flip side, I don't want all those horrible track workouts, tempo runs and painful long runs to be for nought. I want to be fresh, and have a positive first marathon race experience. I guess I'll find out in a few days. I'm actually excited! It will be done quickly relatively-speaking (oh, please let it be over quickly), and I can still be home at a reasonable time. I'm hoping to run smart, negative split, and complete the Strava challenge for a free pair of shoes. Good motivation if nothing else. I'll just be glad when this taper week is over. It's probably been the worst and most stressful taper week I've ever had, culminating in either dislocating or breaking my pinky toe last night...two days before the race...Sigh! At least now I'm much less worried about the little niggles and leg fatigue that always spring up at the last minute. If I can just walk without pain come race day, I'll be happy!

     This isn't about the marathon though. That is more about just getting me out of my comfort zone, and hopefully making me a little faster. After my last post, my husband and I talked a lot about training and racing, particularly ultra racing. It just isn't realistic right now for me to go train in the mountains every weekend for hours. The closest mountains to me are about and hour and fifteen minutes one way. Adding the extra 3-4 hours just for driving makes for some early mornings, and too much time away from home. So what are my options? 1.) Don't run trail ultras anymore 2.) Run them without training and suffer big time, or 3.) Get creative and train with what I have. Since I've done #2 before, which was incredibly painful and not even remotely fun at Masochist 2010, I think, I choose option #3.

     So, what is the best way to try this fun experiment? Why not sign up for a brutally hard 100K in about a month?! Enter the Hellgate 100K. For those of you not familiar with this race, it's a trail 100K that starts at midnight, over technical hills covered in leaves with long climbs and descents that will slowly make you wish you were anywhere else. Here is just about the best write-up you will ever find on the race written by Aaron Schwartzbard http://blog.vestigial.org/hellgate-overview/ . It's a badge of honor for anyone who finishes this beast; and it's a race that I love to hate. There isn't really enough time to get my mountain legs back after my race on Saturday, but I'll have about 3 weeks of training before I need to taper again. I know I can cover the 100K distance, but my climbing and descending legs need some help. I haven't run in the mountains since July, and I don't want to experience the death shuffle from destroyed quads. Since I won't be going out to the mountains to train, I'm getting creative. I bought a weighted vest last week to use for my treadmill hikes and backwards treadmill walking (thanks for the idea, Maggie Guterl!). Hopefully that will add some stress to the workout. I'll also add in some hill repeats here in town. We have one hill that is maybe a third of a mile long. Not necessarily Hellgate hills, but I'm going to run the ups hard and the downs hard, and repeat about a million times. I'll also do some stadium workouts, plyometrics, and anything else I can think of to "cram" my body into whatever kind of shape I can in 3-4 weeks.

     I would not necessarily recommend that anyone "cram" training in for a race; however, I've been running ultras now for almost 17 years. I have about 3,000 miles on my legs this year alone. I know when to back off and rest (not that I always follow my own advice). I'm going to hope that muscle memory and my road legs will get me through a lot of it, and the few weeks of climbing will help me survive the rest. At the end of the day, I am looking forward to spending an entire day (and night) to enjoy God's creation with my friends. I'm grateful that my body can still do this crazy sport. It won't be a PR, but I'm ok with that. I am giddy at the thought of being on my beloved trails again. Hellgate, here I come!

     And finally, I've had the chance to try a new bar that I am excited to test out at Hellgate. The company was gracious enough to send me some samples to try. So far, I like them a lot, and I will give them a go during the race. I love that they only use real ingredients, all of which are actual food items, with nothing that I can't pronounce or understand. Check them out if you are looking for something new to try. https://skoutbackcountry.com/#/

Thoughts and musings.

 I've been pretty quiet on the running and ultra scene since Western States. I haven't run an ultra since June. There are many reasons for this, and it has been an intentional decision on my part. For one, my body took a really long time to bounce back from that race. I had lingering knee pain, ongoing plantar fasciitis (which I'm still dealing with), some other niggles, and a general lethargy whenever I ran that simply wouldn't go away. Some of this was simply because I hate hot weather running, and we had an extremely hot summer here in Virginia. There was the usual post-ultra letdown that usually happens after a big race. Every run felt hard, even when I ran slow, and I just felt like crap to be honest. Along with the running stuff, this year has been a stressful one for me and my family. Back in January my husband and I had made the decision for me to quit my job, so that I could be home during these formative years in our kids lives. To make this happen, my husband started a second business, I was still working full-time, and after a successful Georgia Death Race, I ramped up my training for Western States, not to mention how awesome sleeping in an altitude tent for a few months can be. Insert major sarcasm here. To say all of this combined put a strain on our family life would be putting it mildly. Even after quitting my job in May, life was still very chaotic and stressful. After the whirlwind of Western States, I realized that my family needed to become my priority. They had all sacrificed a lot during the first 6 months of the year. As much as we all like to pretend we are superhuman, at some point, something has to give. I can't do it all and do it well, even though I like to think that I can. Something will suffer, and I never want it to be my family. I think this is  hard topic to talk about as ultrarunners. My running group, particularly my women running buddies always talked about finding balance, or keeping the right perspective between running and the rest of their life. No one wants to admit that they might not have found that good place. It can be a tricky balancing act, and I will be the first to admit that I think running took over my life for the first 6 months of this year.

 The thing is, I absolutely love running ultras, and being in the mountains, but I love my family more. Ultrarunning by its very nature can be an all-consuming sport.  It takes hours and hours to train if you want to be competitive, like I do. I am not wired to simply get out there and be satisfied with a finish. When I started running in my early twenties, that was enough for me, but having tasted some success makes it very hard to be happy with just finishing. I am way too competitive for my own good, and I'm just not wired to do anything halfway. I want to be the best that I possibly can, and I don't honestly think I've reached that peak yet. I am by no means the most talented athlete around, but I have a gift for running long and working really hard. The longer the distance, the more I like it. When I first found ultrarunning in college, I knew this was something I was born to do. It's hard to explain to anyone outside of the sport exactly why I love it so much. It simply makes me feel alive unlike anything else I've ever experienced in life.

On the flip side, there are seasons in life. Circumstances, jobs, family, and friends ebb and flow like the seasons of the year. We have to be willing to change and adapt as life happens. I will never get these years back while my kids are little and under our roof. I don't want to be the absent mom who always put herself first. I don't ever want to look back with regret. While I think it's very important to show our kids that you can be healthy and active as an adult, even with jobs and responsibilities, I never want it to be a negative thing in their lives. One of the driving forces in my running has been to be an example of what is possible for a normal working mom with kids. I am not a professional athlete (I wish I were), but at the end of the day, this is a hobby. Maybe there is a reason that there aren't many moms with young kids running ultras competitively. I know there are some, but not many. I still think it's possible to do, but it's my time to sacrifice a little of my own competitive drive for the sake of my family. My boys started kindergarten this year, and my daughter is three. It became quite apparent during the course of this year that our kids were suffering with me working full-time as well as trying to be a competitive ultrarunner. I don't want to miss this precious time in their lives.

My point in all of this is that I've backed off of ultras for a while. One lesson I took away from Western States was that I am very strong as an ultrarunner, but also pretty darn slow (no offense to those who run slower than I do). This entire year, I kept waiting for a race to destroy my legs, but it never happened. My huge takeaway from States was that my weakness is the actual running. I can hike all day long, and run downhills great, but everyone killed me on the runnable stuff. My legs are strong, but my weakness is my running. I like to call myself the lazy runner. I like trails because I get to walk :-)

So, I decided to train for a marathon, my first one ever! I've never actually run a marathon, and in a strange way, they scare me way more than any ultra, Barkley and Hardrock being the few exceptions. I live in Richmond, Virginia, and we have an awesome marathon here every November. I've never run it, because I despise road running; and also because I've always run either the Mountain Masochist 50-miler and/or the JKF 50-miler. Both races fall around the same time in November as the Richmond marathon. I suppose I could be like my friend, Annie Stanley, who ran Masochist one weekend, paced the Richmond marathon the next weekend, and then ran JFK the weekend after that. Ouch! I once did the Masochist/JFK double, which is also a terrible idea.

Realizing that I could train for a marathon on lower mileage, stay in town training on roads without driving an hour to get to the mountains, and pushing myself out of my (trail) comfort zone made the Richmond marathon a no-brainer. Let me just say that marathon training SUCKS! I feel like a newbie runner trying to figure out what to do. I have no idea what time I can run, but I know it will hurt way more than any ultra I have done. I'm trying to embrace track workouts, tempo runs, and road long runs. In the end, it will make me a better runner and athlete, as well as allowing me to be a more present mom and wife. It's a win all the way around in my book. Our goals in life have to coexist and work in harmony towards the same ultimate goal, not oppose each other. I don't know what next year will bring, but I hope to find balance in everything I do. It has also freed me up to discover a newfound love of cooking, hot yoga, and cross-training. In a painful way, it has been fun to stretch myself, and try something way outside of my comfort zone. I have a new respect for what marathoners do. It is another world to be an elite marathon runner. With just over two weeks to go, I'm excited to see how this all plays out. Hopefully it won't get too ugly, and then I'll have to figure out what is next! 

Happy Fall!

Western States 2016. Sweet Redemption!

It's hard to know where to start with this report; not because I don't have anything to say, but because I want to do the experience justice. I'm not sure I can fully express my feelings and emotions about this magical weekend, but I'll try.  This has been a fairy tale adventure since January, and really, all the way back to 2004 when I dropped at Michigan Bluff. It has finally come full circle. The monkey is off my back in a way I could not have imagined back then.

Since January of this year, my running life has been completely focused on getting into Western States. Not a single day, probably not a single hour went by when the race wasn't at least a thought in the back of my mind. From reading race reports or course descriptions, to watching YouTube videos, I thought about it constantly. This would be my first 100-miler in eight years. In my 16 years as an ultrarunner no race has consumed me as much as this one did. I'm not sure what I would have done if I hadn't gotten my golden ticket. There was simply no other option. No alternative. I had to get it! I won't rehash what happened at the Georgia Death Race, since I already wrote about it, but I got my golden ticket! In a single day my world changed. I went from hoping to return to Western States one day in the distant future, to realizing that I would be running it in 3 very short months!

It was time to get down to business and start training. AJW and I spent the entire drive home from the Georgia Death Race planning out my training and racing schedule. I expected to need some down time for the rest of March to recover from GDR, but my body bounced back surprisingly quickly. I jumped back into training almost immediately. For the next few months, I trained harder than I ever thought possible. I can't remember what I did back in 2004, but I can confidently say that I trained harder for this race than I have for anything in the last 10 years...and my body felt great! There is a fine line between training to reach peak fitness levels and going down the road of overtraining and injury. I feel like I was doing a dance with that line the whole time. It's more art than science; the line is not clear and it constantly changes. It's easy to see how easily people fall into that trap, but thankfully, I think I came out on the right side of the equation. It was one of the main reasons for having a coach this time around. I needed that outside perspective to keep me in check when I wanted to push harder than I should. By no means do I think that everyone needs a coach. I've never had one before this year, although David Horton pretty much taught me everything I know when we trained together in my 20's.

I stepped up to the starting line with a few niggles, but no major injuries. My body felt primed and ready to go. I had a serene calmness when I arrived in Squaw on the Wednesday before the race. I had no control over how the other women had trained or how talented they may be, but I knew I had done absolutely everything within my power to stand at the starting line as ready as I could be. I did the strength training, the heat training, the core work. I watched my diet, did my long runs, got massages, went to my PT. There were no doubts or regrets in my mind about my training, so I could accept the result no matter what the day would bring. I was at complete peace.

Obligatory starting line pic with my dream team!

Check-in craziness

minutes before the start with the infamous AJW

After a restless night's sleep Friday night, I woke up full of adrenaline and anticipation, proving yet again that sleep the night before a race is irrelevant. I quickly ate my granola and banana, and read a text from my husband back in Virginia that brought tears to my eyes. It was a passage from the Bible that reads, "But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint". I carried those words with me all day. After quick hugs and words of encouragement from my crew, the countdown began, and we were off running up the mountain. I was so relieved to finally be off and running. All I had to do was run, eat, drink, and be patient. Pretty straightforward, right?!? If only it were that simple...

I started training with a heart rate monitor this spring for the first time ever in my ultrarunning career, and it proved very useful in training. I knew how easy it would be to let adrenaline and my competitive nature make me run too fast in the high country, so I wore a heart rate monitor until Foresthill. I had practiced with it in one 50K race leading up to States to get used to it. I wanted it for the first half to keep my pace honest (and slow).  No matter what Karl Meltzer says, 100 miles is a very long way. I have a very healthy respect of the length of a 100-miler. You can't fake your way to a finish in a 100 like you can a 50. My crew was under strict instructions not to even tell me my place for the first 30 miles unless I asked. I expected the high country to wear on me, but I only really felt the altitude on the climbs. The first 30 miles went by in a flash, except for the stupid, long climb between Duncan Canyon and Robinson Flat. I wasn't expecting that one for some reason, and I didn't feel great during the climb. I leapfrogged with Maggie Guterl and Erika Lindland along here, and pretty much for the first 45 miles of the race. I knew both women would run smart, conservative races, so I knew I was in good company.

I saw my crew for the first time at mile 23 (Duncan Canyon). It was a huge mental boost to see them, and pick up my ice bandana and hat. I ate an avocado and cheese wrap, and took off. I left the aid station feeling really good, but almost immediately started feeling hot spots on both of my big toes. This really concerned me, since it was not even 30 miles into the race. I spent the entire time between Duncan and Robinson (mile 29) trying not to panic. Mile 25 was way too early for blisters! I prepared myself mentally to accept that my feet were just going to hurt for the next 70+ miles. I can handle a lot of pain, so I just chalked it up to the cost of running 100 miles. I couldn't figure out what the problem was. I had been diligent about getting the grit and rocks out whenever I felt any small pebble in my shoes. The only thing I can think, looking back at it now, was wearing a brand new pair of socks. It was the same brand that I've worn for the past two years without problems, but this was a brand new, unworn pair. Rookie mistake on my part. I made it to Robinson Flat, where AJW was waiting for me. I immediately told him I needed to change socks. It was the only thing I could think of that might help. Before the race, I had thrown in a pair of Drymax socks almost as an afterthought. Since my trusty socks were causing me problems, I decided to chance it. I lubed my feet, switched socks, and got out of there as quickly as possible. Looking at the splits after the race, this was my longest stop at any aid station (5 minutes). It was worth it though. My feet felt better almost immediately, and I never thought about my feet again. Before you ask, no, I was not sponsored by Drymax (I am now).  I'm a believer now though! I finished the race without a single blister.

photo credit: Frank Bozanich

Coming into one of the early aid stations
photo credit: Eric Davis

After leaving Robinson Flat, we were treated to a glorious section of switchbacky downhill running, which I loved, followed by a very blah section of flat, slightly downhill running on a dirt road. I'm admittedly not a great road runner, so this section wore on me a little. I just tried to stay steady, and keep eating and drinking. I made it to Last Chance at mile 43 without incident, and prepared to enter the famous canyon sections. I was actually looking forward to the next 18-20 miles. I had prepared for the heat physically and mentally. I was ready for this. You are either bombing downhill or hiking up the climbs. There aren't many sections where you have to decide whether to walk or run, which is my type of running! I knew that if I ran well through the canyons, I would possibly start catching people. It was supposed to be a hot day, and I was hoping for brutally hot! I needed carnage ahead of me. People may disagree with me , but I never thought it got very hot all day unfortunately. Maybe because of the heat training, or maybe because the aid station volunteers did such a fantastic job of keeping us wet and cold.

I was still running with Maggie and Erika as we began the descent into Deadwood Canyon, the first of three canyon sections. It was hard to get into a rhythm on this downhill. The trail was somewhat technical, and covered in these little leaves which made it slick and slow. I just focused on not falling or twisting an ankle. We made it to the bottom, crossed the swinging bridge, and began the heinous climb up to Devil's Thumb. In my opinion, this was the worst climb of the day. It was steep almost the whole way to the top. I think I was low on calories, because I felt slow and a little grumpy ( a sure sign I need to eat something). I was surprised that no one caught me on the uphill through here. I finally made it up to Devil's Thumb, and promptly downed two orange popsicles and some Ginger ale. Iced down and sponged off, I left with a renewed bounce in my step. I simply cannot say enough about the aid station volunteers. They were so helpful all day long, and I gained energy each time I came through an aid station.

I started down the long downhill into El Dorado Canyon. It was a more gradual downhill than the previous section. The footing was better, and I think the sugar kicked in. I felt better than I had in the previous section. I began the climb up to my crew at Michigan Bluff. This was where I dropped in 2004, so it was a huge mental barrier for me. I couldn't wait to get through Michigan Bluff and keep going! Not long into the climb I passed Sally McRae. I could tell she was having a rough time, and my heart went out to her. I knew she had high hopes for Western States, and had trained hard. It was a reminder that 100 miles is a very long way, and anything can happen to anyone. I was really impressed to learn that she gutted it out and finished the race. It's not easy to keep going when expectations aren't met. I kept pushing up the climb passing a few more guys on the way up. You could tell the day was starting to wear on people.  A few of the guys were just sitting on the side of the trail looking completely worked. I can see how the canyons can suck the life out of you if you aren't careful.

I made it up to Michigan Bluff to find AJW waiting for me. It was here where I had my first drink with caffeine. I had intentionally waited until halfway to start any gels or drinks with caffeine because I wanted the boost when my body started to tire. I had cut out caffeine for a month before the race  to really maximize its affect. Anyone that knows me knows how much I love my morning coffee. This was the hardest part of the training for me. I'm not kidding! It might seem like overkill to some, but it worked for me at GDR. Every little bit helps, even if it's only a mental boost. It's worth trying, in my opinion. Anyway, I drank an ice-cold Starbucks Frappuccino, which was just heavenly!!!

Michigan Bluff looked like a war zone with people laying all over the place. The canyons had taken their toll. Andy finally gave me the rundown on my position in the race. He mistakenly thought that I was in 10th place, which was not accurate. I was in 11th, but it didn't matter. I hadn't expected to be that far up in the field by mile 55 anyway. One of the highlights of my day was seeing my old friend, Scotty Mills here. I heard that he was working the aid station. He came over to give me a quick hug, then promptly told me to get moving. I felt fantastic for already being over halfway into the race.

Enjoying my milkshake hiking up Bath Road
photo credit: Eric Davis

My crew and I had run part of the next section between Michigan and Foresthill when we flew into town the Wednesday before the race, so I knew what to expect. I had been looking forward to getting here all day, because it meant I was on my way to getting my pacer. I actually thought several times during the race about how fast the it seemed to be going by. I remember listening to  Ann Trason mention on a podcast that all of her Western States races went by in a flash, and that was certainly the case for me. Right before the descent into Volcano Canyon, I passed Yiou Wang walking along a road. Again, I was impressed to find out that she persevered and got her silver buckle. I have so much respect for those that gut it out on a tough day, when it is much easier to just throw in the towel. Now I was truly in 10th place, even though I wouldn't know that until I reached my crew at Foresthill.

Volcano Canyon ended up being my favorite section of the whole race. I felt so strong, and my stomach was holding up nicely. I flew down the hill, jumped in the creek at the bottom, and began the short climb up to Bath Road. When I saw my crew waiting for me with a vanilla milkshake, I was practically dancing. We hiked up the road together as I drank the milkshake, and took stock of the day. I felt really good with how things were shaping up. I was in 10th place earlier than I had anticipated. My energy was good, and I now got to run with my friend, Annie, for the next 20 miles! We didn't even stop at the Foresthill aid station, as amazing as it was. I felt like a celebrity with everyone cheering as we ran down the road. My crew had a spot set up just past the aid station, and we regrouped there to switch out my pack. I even got a high five from Ann Trason. There has to be some good mojo meeting Ann Trason for the first time at mile 62 in Western States!

Scouting out Volcano Canyon on Wednesday

Running into Foreshill
photo credit: Irunfar.com

Annie and I left Foresthill on a mission. My goal was to run from here to the river in 3 hours. Don't listen to anyone that tells you it's all downhill to the river though. It's not at all! Andy had prepared me for this, so I was mentally prepared. We made it to Cal 1 quickly, and pushed on to Cal 2. This section was a bit of a grind with all the rollers, but I still felt strong. Unfortunately, the heat began to wear on Annie, and her stomach started to go south. We came into Cal 2, and found two women (Jodee and Nicole) sitting in chairs getting worked on by the volunteers. They both looked kind of rough, and suddenly I went from 10th to 8th place! We bolted before either woman could get out of the aid station ahead of us. I felt like I was running faster than I had all day. Annie's stomach finally had enough on the short but horrible "6-minute" hill heading to Cal 3. She told me to go on ahead as she had to stop and take care of business. I felt bad leaving her back there, but she promised to catch up once she cleared out her stomach. I've always said that pacing is a tough assignment. You probably haven't trained the way the runner in the race has. You aren't in the same mental place, since it isn't your race. You don't get to choose when to run or walk. It is all about your runner; and it's a tall order.

I came into Cal 3, with Annie flying in about 30 seconds behind me. She was yelling for me to get going because Jodee was right on our heels. I couldn't believe that she had regrouped so quickly. Sure enough, as I ran out of the aid station, Jodee came running in. Annie told me to go, and not worry about her. I left on my own running scared. Even though I was now in 8th place, I knew there were so many tough women right behind me. I knew that Maggie and Erika were back there somewhere and would finish strong. I knew I could just as quickly go back to F10 just as quickly as I had gone to F8. From Cal 3 you run through a flat, sandy, overgrown section along the river. I heard voices up ahead, and saw Amanda Basham being paced by Zach Miller. She was running, but not moving too quickly (or so I thought). I passed them along here still running scared. I thought I would be able to stay ahead of Amanda, but she quickly passed me back a few minutes later. She would end up finishing 30 minutes ahead of me, even though we crossed the river together. That girl can close! Everyone better watch out for her!

River Crossing!!!
Photo credit: Andy Jones-Wilkins

Finally, the river crossing came into view. I had envisioned that moment countless times in the 6 months leading up to the race. Once again, I was struck by how quickly the day was going by. I was already here at mile 78 of Western States. It was a little surreal.  I crossed quickly without any problems, and saw my crew waiting on the other side. My other mistake of the day was leaving Cal 3 without any gels. In the frenzy to get out quickly, I mistakenly thought I had some gels in my pack, only to realize there were just empty wrappers. This was my 2nd rookie mistake. I ran the entire section from Cal 3 to the river with nothing but water. By the time I crossed the river, I was running on fumes. I tried to eat on the climb up to Green gate, but my stomach really didn't want anything. This is typically the point in races where my body just doesn't want any more food.

Andy took over pacing duties for the final 20 miles. I honestly don't remember much from here to the finish. It all blurs together in my mind. I know I didn't run the part between Green Gate to ALT very well at all. I ate a gel or two, but my legs just felt heavy and slow. I walked stuff that I knew I should be running. I was low on calories, and feeling very lazy. Andy tried unsuccessfully to nudge me along, but we finally made it to ALT. I drank some Coke and had some broth with noodles. That was the magic potion for me. I had some of both at every aid station until the finish, and it worked wonders for me! My energy came back, and we started moving much better.

Somewhere in the final 10 miles, I can't remember exactly where, we passed Caroline Boller. I was back in 7th place! after what seemed like an eternity we started the climb up to Robie Point. It was not my finest moment. I was walking soooooo slowly, but I couldn't make myself go any faster. There were some headlamps not far behind us, and I just hoped it was a guy and his pacer and not another female. It would really suck to get passed at mile 99, but even that couldn't seem to get me moving. My crew was waiting for me at the top with about a mile to go. I finally relaxed just a little knowing that no one was going to pass me. When we crossed the white bridge I started running. Then I ran faster. The draw of the track is intense to say the least. I got a little emotional in that final mile thinking of all the hours of training, the hard work, the time away from my family, the horrible track workouts, every single minute of it was worth this moment.

I entered the track with my crew following behind, and "sprinted" through the finish line with a little leap of joy in 20 hours and 40 minutes. I will remember those final 200 meters forever. I will cherish the memory and the sense of deep satisfaction. I waited for Maggie to finish in 8th place about 10 minutes after I did, and Erika a little while later in 10th place. I had formed a bond with these women during the race, and was overjoyed that each of us had accomplished our goals. This race is truly something special. I enjoyed every single minute of it, and can't wait to do it again next year.

Thank you to Craig Thornley and the rest of the staff and volunteers at Western States for making this race something truly special. Your hard work does not go unnoticed. I'm so grateful to my crew-Annie, Sophie, David, and Andy for giving of all your time and support to bring me across that finish line. Because of all of you, and by the grace of God, I had an almost perfect day.To those of you who prayed for me, and stayed up late to follow my progress, I'm grateful for your support. Finally, thank you to my wonderful husband Mike for doing so much to allow me to train. I could not do this without you. Let's do it again next year!

Gear and food list in case you care:
Shoes: Pearl Izumi Trail N2
Socks: Drymax
Shirt: Patagonia capilene short-sleeve
Shorts; Nike Rival shorts
Hydration: Nathan Vaporairess pack and Quickdraw plus handhelds
Light: Petzl Tikka Plus
Food: 1 PayDay bar, 2 avocado cheese wraps, 20+ Huma gels, 1 Frappucino,  1 vanilla milkshake, lots of watermelon, 2 popsicles, Coke, Gingerale, and chicken broth.
Pre-race interview post-race podcast on Trail Runner Nation
 Here are some final random photos for you to enjoy:

Pre-race hike up the escarpment
photo credit: Andy Jones-Wilkins

I've waited 12 years for this!

My shoes after 100 miles of dust.

I'm proud to know these wonderful people

Guess who actually ran the race?

I was pretty darn happy