Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Trail and Error


     “The trail is the thing, not the end of the trail.  Travel too fast and you miss all you are traveling for.”  - Louis L’Amour

It’s not easy to write about a lackluster year of running.  When something ends bad, that is what you tend to remember - the bad times.  I’m not quite sure how things started unraveling in 2016.  I guess it was too much of a good thing, or maybe not enough.  Either way here is how the year went.  

2016 was going to be a great year for me.  I had decided to run a lot of races, mostly marathons to build up to the big 150 mile race in the fall.  I managed to rack up two half marathons, nine marathons and three ultra marathons.  

I did have some running highs in 2016.  I was able to do a few races with friends including my first indoor marathon, where we were fortunate enough to not get shot by the crazed Uber driver in the area on our way home.  This spring I convinced a friend to run her first marathon and I was able to be there and cross the finish line with her while she cried tears of joy, she’s already signed up for her second marathon.  I traveled the country and checked three new states off the map on my 50 states marathon quest, 35 states done now.  My best training buddy finished his first official 50 miler and a few months later he got to 85 or so miles on a 100 mile course, I saw both of those key moments in his life.   I finished my first 35 mile road bike race and got up to 35 mph doing downhill.  Another running buddy asked me to be his crew chief and pacer at the granddaddy of all ultra marathons, the Western States 100.  What an amazing time that was to help him get to the finish line. Oh-I got to meet a bunch of running celebrities there too.  I ran part of a marathon with my brother, then later helped a total stranger that was suffering and got him to the finish line when he didn’t think he would make it.  A week later, I completed my second fastest 50 mile race to date.  A week after that I did a 35 mile mountain bike race and took second place in my age division, this was my first mountain bike race ever.  

Pacing at Western States.

Some of the running lows were expected.  I ran in the heat and cold, driving rain, high winds and lightening storms-not all at the same time.  I got bronchitis and was sick for almost two months.   I got a flat tire on my rental car at a race.  I ran on a beautiful boardwalk in Georgia where I executed the perfect Superman fall and threw out my shoulder, requiring a month off running and wearing a sling. To my dismay, I gained 25 pounds.  I signed up for a 100K and dropped at just shy of 50 miles.  I signed up for a 50 miler and dropped at the marathon mark.  I never ran the 150 miler in November and I had to cancel my December marathon in Arizona.  
The boardwalk where I fell.

After running steady for 6 years and 66 races of marathon distance or longer, the bottom fell out and I was injured.  (Oh man, I just saw the three 6’s in the last sentence as I typed it.  Dang, that is spooky.)  I couldn’t walk without pain.  I don’t know what went wrong, all I can figure out is that I undertrained (some of it due to injury and illness) but I didn’t get my mileage to where it needed to be this year.  I likely went into events unprepared physically, even though mentally I could get through a lot.  I stopped running and went to the doctor. The MRI showed a stress fracture on the compression side of my femoral neck.  


My doctors felt that surgery was the best option.  They said that if the fracture were to get worse, I would be looking at a hip replacement.  Wow, now that sure puts the brakes on things.  A few days later I was in surgery, they made an incision through my IT band and put three screws into my femur to support my leg.  For four weeks after that I was on crutches or a walker, not able to put any weight on my leg.  I was unable to work or do much of anything without help.  (Thanks Erick for everything you did for me.)
All my future plans for running (and life) were cancelled, deferred or in limbo.  I’m finally able to walk unassisted.  I can’t walk for exercise yet, and running still won’t happen until February.  In the meantime, I’ve read almost 30 books, caught up on Netflix shows and sat in my recliner and threw the ball across the house for two stir crazy border collies. 
      I can't remember who wrote this but it pretty much sums up running from my view point.  "To someone who understands, no explanation is necessary. To someone who does not understand, no amount of explanation will suffice."
      I miss running.  I miss the journey that is on the way to the destination, the finish line.  Everyone tells me I’ll come back stronger after this.  I hope they are right. See you on the trails in 2017, it's going to be a great year- at least that is what I've been told.

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Mother Knows Best

I signed up for the Quad Cities Marathon because my brother Dean did.   It doesn’t take much to convince me to turn over my hard earned dollars to pound the pavement seven hours from home, when I can do it for free any day of the week right here.  He was planning to run it with his girlfriend Christi.  It would be his fourth marathon and her second.  My husband even signed up for the half marathon.  This turned into the makings of a family reunion as I knew our parents would love to come watch us and be a part of the fun.  All it took was a nudge and my my aunt and uncle from Kansas, were on board to come join the party and surprise my mom for her 70th birthday.  This is the same aunt and uncle that came to see my brother and I at his first marathon not that long ago.  The cat nearly escaped from the bag a bunch of times while planning this event.  My mom and dad were totally surprised, happy but amazed we were able to keep their mini family reunion a secret.  

Race day arrived and the weatherman must have been beat upon the head with a bag of sticks.  He predicted an all day rain and moderate temperatures.    I spent the first 2 miles of the race running with Dean and Christi.  I soon realized that with the heat, humidity and a few hills, I was going to have to take it easier.  I wished them well as they charged on and I faded back. I knew I was going to have to take it easier so I decided to focus on the amazing bridges we got to cross and the stellar views.   I have always enjoyed running near the water, but running along the Mississippi River is almost overwhelming.
I knew the approximate area to look for my parents and aunt, they were there waiting, smiling and cheering.  My dad was thrilled and gave me a big hug.  It was so fun to see them.  I rarely have the opportunity to see my family at my races so this was a highlight and something I will remember forever.  I know it may seem small to other people to have your parents on the sidelines, but this was huge for me.  It has only happened a handful of times and I will treasure it.  This is something parents do when their child is playing a sport in high school, not when the child is now an adult.  It made it all that more meaningful.  
A mile or so later I met up with a fellow that had a shirt on said something like “Cancer won’t win.”  I ran with him for a few miles and he told me he had recently been diagnosed and that he wasn’t able to start his treatments yet.  It humbled me and made me even more thankful for all I have in my life.  He said all he wanted is to see his kids graduate high school.  I didn’t have the words to tell him how much running with him for a few miles felt.  That he made an impact on me and made me appreciate my life fuller in just a few moments.  He was doing the half marathon and I was doing the full, so we had to part ways as our courses went in different directions.  I gave him a hug and wished him well and said I would say a prayer for him and his family.  I’m not always the praying kind, but this young man deserved my thoughts and some kindness from up above.  

As I turned the corner I saw Dean and Christi on their way back in from a slight out and back spot on the course.  I was happy to see them and know they were doing well.  It was several miles later that I caught up with them.  We were running on the Rock Island Arsenal, the largest government owned weapon manufacturing arsenal in the United States.  It’s a National Historic Landmark, yet it had reminders of places like Annapolis with the beautiful homes that the military rank must live in.  There was also sections that were so park like you forgot where you actually where.  We ran along a path that was bordered by the Mississippi River.  I told Dean and Christi that they were doing great and to keep pressing on, but I was going to go ahead for a bit.    Signage on the path told me that this was where the military personal did their running section of their physical fitness test.  This hit home to me as my time in the Army Reserve helped shape me into the runner I am today.    My mind was brought back to present times by speed boats on the river with their occupants cheering us on as giant pelicans watched without amusement.  
Around mile 17, I passed a young guy that was walking.  He jogged up to me and asked if he could run with me for a bit.  I told him that would be wonderful, but that I planned to walk and run intervals and  he was welcome to join me.  I learned his name was Rick and he was a graphic designer for a sporting goods company in Iowa and that this was his first marathon.   After a few miles of running and walking we had a good time talking and I told him he was welcome to stay with me as long as he wanted.  He ebbed and flowed over the miles, having trouble then doing well.  I told him he could say if he wanted to run on his own but he said he’d gladly stay with me.  I joked that he would have a great story to tell his friends about how this crazy lady told him when to walk and when to run at his marathon and how she talked his ear off.  He laughed that off but stuck with me.  I said, “Let’s run from this telephone pole to the next.”  He would do it and then we would walk some and start up again.  I said he of course did not need to do what I was doing that I wasn’t his coach or
anything.  He looked at me and said, “Today, you are my coach.”   I kept him going as he battled what any person that hadn’t run further than 18 miles would.  His legs and stomach told him one thing while is brain and I told him another.  Near mile 20 the rain came. The overall  course had little shade and the section we were in had no shade for miles.  The downpour could not have come at a better time.  We both felt refreshed and as reborn as you could at this distance.  We passed under an arch that was designed to look like bricks and it simulated you passing through the wall, typically the hardest part of a marathon.
It was a long straight stretch as we ran and walked in the heat and humidity after the rain stopped.  I told Rick stories about my adventures in running races all over the country and how I have succeeded and failed at my events.  I think I could have been reading him a grocery list a this point and he would have been entertained.  But he stuck with me.  When I ran, he ran.  When I walked, he walked.  He was amazing.  We came within eyesight of the finish line and I told him I was going to leave him as I knew he was going to make it from there.  I really only did it so he would have a photo of himself crossing the finish line without me in it.  I passed one other runner and said a word of encouragement along the way.  After I crossed the finish line I turned and waited.  It took a minute longer than I expected for Rick to cross the line.  When he finished he gave me a hug and a high five and told me it took him a moment longer because he wanted to give the other guy he was passing some encouragement.  My heart filled with pride that he was finishing his race and thinking of someone else who may have needed support.  

Rick’s mother approached me and with nearly teary eyes and she thanked me for taking care of her son out there.  I told her it was my pleasure to help him achieve his goal.  Not long after Dean and Christi crossed the finish line.  A text from my husband said that he did great at his half marathon too.  It was great for us to all be a part of this amazing adventure, even if we did them individually.  I told my mom later about my race experience and how I was able to help Rick.  She asked me if I would write a blog post about it because she thought it was a great story.  

So mom, this is for you.  Happy birthday.  You taught me that at your mother sees and hears everything, that giving is always better than receiving and that a kind word goes a long way, miles in this case.

Monday, September 12, 2016

Crewing States

       Once upon a time, I told myself I would enter the lottery for the Western States 100 any time I qualified.  I only qualified once, by running the Hallucination 100 Mile run.  Thank God that I did not get in to Western States.  There was no way I was ready for that.  However, when my buddy David entered into the lottery this past December, he asked if I would be his crew chief and pacer if he got in.  I said yes and I told him that he would get in.  He didn’t believe me, but sometimes I just know these things.  He had a 13.7% chance (4 tickets) of getting in and he did it.  Only 369 people get in each year.   It is quite by luck.
Getting in is only a small part of the battle.  Then you, your crew, pacers, and family need to commit to airfare, rental cars, hotels and a ton of other travel expenses that pop up.  But there was no way I could miss this.   I may never do this race myself, but I sure wanted to see this baby unfold firsthand.  
The Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run is the world’s oldest 100 mile trail race.  For marathoners, this is equal to their Boston Marathon.  It is the Granddaddy.  It starts at Squaw Valley, California (home of the 1960 Olympics) and runs to Auburn, California.  Runners will climb more than 18,000 feet and descend almost 23,000 feet during this event.  This race is epic.
My husband Erick and I arrived in Sacramento, California on the Wednesday before the race.  We got the rental van and awaited our compadres.  David, his wife Amanda and his 20 year old daughter Hannah, along with their friend Tracey soon joined us.   
       After a trip to In-N-Out Burger, we headed to my least favorite place in the world, Walmart.  We picked some race essentials we knew would be hard to find up in Squaw Valley.  We got styrofoam coolers, sponges, boost nutrition drinks, bottled water, sunscreen, and more stuff than we could possibly need.  We had to pile this stuff on people’s laps for the drive to Squaw Valley.  We got the biggest van we could afford and it was “cozy” to say the least.

We arrived at Squaw Valley a few hours later.  As we pulled off the main road we passed the Olympic rings and the lit torch.   We stayed at the Village at Squaw Valley.  Arriving here to me, was like a child arriving at Disneyland.  This is ultra runner mecca for the weekend.  While Amanda and Erick cooked us dinner, the rest of us went out for a short run.  The elevation had most of us midwesterners huffing and puffing in no time and it brought Hannah and I to a walking pace.  It was humbling.  
On Thursday morning there was a hike up to Emigrant Pass that we all participated in.  It is a climb of 2,550 feet in four miles to an elevation for 8.750 feet.  The trek took some of us more than two hours.  When they warned us of this in advance  that this climb could be difficult for some, I did not think they were talking about us.  This is the first four miles of the race course.  I could not imagine trying to run it, hiking it was tough enough.  The views from the top were spectacular but we were all pretty happy for the tram to take us back to the resort.  
Amanda and Hanna on the assent

We had a meeting about “How to Crew a Western States Runner.” The lecture gave us insight on how to get from one aid station to the next, where we should stop for our own food, where to get ice and food for our runners, and how to plan for parking and shuttles to the aid stations.  These folks at Western States have this down to a science.  
Later that afternoon we attend the Veteran’s Panel.  The panelists gave insight into the course, the terrain, and other race strategy.  One major discussion was how to handle the heat.  The predicted temperature was to be over 100 during the day and around 70’s at night.  Ian Sharman candidly advised runners that runners may need to change their goal times with this kind of heat. 

On Friday. we went with David to get checked in for the race.  We were allowed to go with him through the runner check in.  It was a pretty cool process to see, more official than any race I have ever been in.  He had his photo taken and got a wristband he would wear until the end of the race.  He also participated in some medical research studies both before and after the race. 
That afternoon, David and I went to the race meeting.  The room was packed.  Every available space was filled by runners sitting, standing, and even peeking through the windows trying to be a part of it.  Because I hate being late, we had front row seats. Some awards were presented, important people were thanked and the notable runners came forward and were introduced to the crowd.  It was pretty cool to see all these people I had previously seen only in magazines and online, up close and in person now.  



I should mention just how accessible the running “celebrities” are here at Squaw.  Almost every time I walked out the door from our hotel, I would bump into someone famous in the ultra running scene.  Sally McRae, Ann Trason, Ian Sharman, Sage Canaday, Bryon Powell, Gordy Ainsley, David Laney (my friend and former coworker but more notably,  Ultra Runner of the Year for 2015) and many others were just hanging out in the area and welcomed you if you wanted to say hello or take a photo with them.  I saw Podcasters from The Ginger Runner and Ultra Runner Podcast as well as Running Stupid.  I fully admit, I was a total run groupie and took every opportunity to meet these amazing and talented runners.  This is one of the coolest things about running as a sport.  You can toe the line with the best of the best in this sport, compete in the same event.  I can’t think of another sport you could do that in. Yet the coolest thing as when Bryan Powell asked to take a photo of my tattoo, which reads “Relentless Forward Progress”  also the title of his book.
David and I with Tropical Jon Mettinger and the RD-Craig Thornily

Me with Sage Canaday and Bryon Powell
With Sarah Lavender Smith
Coach Ken (from Running Stupid Podcast) his wife Karen and I (I knew them before WS100)

David and I with Gunhild Swanson
Sally McRea and I (OMG love her!)

The Ginger Runner and I!
With Ann Treason, what a legend.

Eric from Ultra Runner Podcast.
Ethan from Ultra Runner Podcast

Ian Sharman and I.  Wow, his accent....and hot!
My friend David Laney- Ultra Runner of the Year.

Gordy Ainsley..watch those hands!

       Friday evening, David went over his gear with us.  We had decided on what aid stations we would be at and what he would need at each one.  He’s a pretty low maintenance guy.  He doesn’t bring drop bags.  So he would rely on what we had, which was pretty minimal.  Sunscreen, bug spray, Tailwind, Boost, an extra pair of shoes and socks, lube, a dry shirt, raincoat, flashlight and headlamp.  We all tried to get to bed early to rest up for the long haul ahead.

       Saturday morning we headed to the start area at 4:15 A.M.   At 5:00 A.M. the runners started their journey of 100.2 miles to Auburn.  After David was on his way, we headed back to the room to load up the van and headed out.  Our drive to the first aid station was over 100 miles and down so many twisty canyon roads that I swore we were lost.  I was beginning to fear we were not going to make it to the aid station before David arrived.  It took hours to get there.

       At Robinson Flat we were treated with seeing all the front runners come through.  We expected to see the happy, smiling David we usually see early on at races.  What we saw shocked us all a bit.  Less than 30 miles into the race and he looked quite worn and thin.  He sat on a log and assured us that he had been drinking, that is was just really hot.  He had been keeping an ice bandana around his neck to help but the heat was just brutal.  We slathered him with sunscreen and he went on his way.

Difficult as it was, we all tried to keep our concerns to a minimum.  Amanda and Hannah really wanted us to go to the next aid station to see him.  They were very concerned about how he looked.  I had to make the difficult decision to overrule their concern and press on to the aid station that David told us to be at.  (If we had gone out of our way to the next aid station, nor our assigned one- we could risk missing him because the distances are so far when you are driving.)  Our next time to see him was at Michigan Bluff, mile 55.7.  I made sure the crew got fed and we restocked on our own supplies and gassed up the vehicle.  We had to park a few miles away from the aid station.  We waited in the vehicle trying to stay cool.  We could see the marks on the road where other car tire had melted from the heat.  It was a brutal 100 degrees.  It was tough to just stand outside, let alone think of running in it.   We had been told to expect our runner to look quite bad coming into this aid station as they would have just spent a long hard time in the canyon.  True enough, when David came in he looked horrible.  He had the thousand yard stare, the lights were on but no one was home look.  His face was very drawn, almost skeleton like.  I was forced to hid my concern as to not worry Amanda any further.  David sat for a few minutes while we helped him regroup.  Amanda pleaded with David to wait here a half an hour until his first pacer (Tracey) could join him.  I really hate to be the bad guy but I knew if this happened his race could be over.  He needed to keep moving forward.  We got him refueled and I stuffed his headlamp in his pack as I knew dark was coming and he did not anticipate needing light for yet another few miles, I was not going to take any chances.  He made his way down the road and we hightailed it to our van.  I could not bear the though of him being alone looking the way he did.  I had a plan, but we had to move fast.  
I knew I could meet him about 2 miles from where we left him if we hurried.  I changed into my running clothes while we drove (hopefully no one had to see that...)to the the Foresthill aid station, mile 62.  As soon as we arrived I hauled ass to meet David.  I’m slow, but I still waited about 20 minutes for him.  He had not expected to see me and looked quite glad to have the company.  We walked up a paved hill, when we hit the trail again he said he felt like running.  He said his stomach was acting up.  He rarely deals with this, yet I deal with is a lot at my races.  He ran about 1/4 mile before he started vomiting on the side of the trail.  I told him it would be ok, that this was no big deal.  Throwing up was just a way to reset your system.   I handed him a paper towel to clean himself up and then he handed it back to me!  (Oh the joys of ultra running.)  Not one to litter, I shoved it in my pocket and we moved on.  He ran until we met up with his wife and daughter slightly before the aid station.  Once there, I dug into my suitcase and found some antacid.  I shoved them into David’s mouth before he know what I was doing.  We got him resupplied and Tracey was ready to pace him through the night.  I asked her two things.  Make sure he eats and make sure he drinks.  She said she would take care of it.  It was a great relief to know he was not alone
Erick and I with Tony at Rucky Chucky.
We headed to the aid station I was most looking forward too, the river crossing at Rucky Chucky.  I had seen this in many photos and videos over the years, but to experience it as a spectator was inspiring.  There was a short time prior to this that we were able to rest, but I never slept more than five minutes straight.  My brain would not shut off, I had a goal.  I needed to get David to that finish and there was no chance I would let anyone oversleep and miss him at an aid station.  I checked his progress on the internet (when available) and when I thought we were within an hour of him arriving we headed out to catch the shuttle.  It was nothing like I imagined.  It was about a 20 minute drive in a short school bus that we had just seen them change the tire on.  I had no idea how bad the road would be to get there.  After living in Michigan all my life I thought I knew what a pothole was.  This gave new meaning.  I was glad it was dark out as I could barely see what we were about to hit prior to bouncing out of my seat.  Once at the aid station we met up with my long time friend, Tony.  For several years he has worn a wetsuit and stood in the freezing waters all day and night to help runners cross the river.  He and the other volunteers do an amazing job to keep everyone safe.  The runners that came through seemed to be revitalized, as if this was a major event in the race for them.  It was exactly as I thought it would be and when David and Tracey came through I was thrilled.  David walked to the aid station and he took food and drink and he looked like a new man.  My heart filled with relief to see him out of that dark place he had been earlier.  His face looked full and his color was back.  I knew he was going to be ok.  It was so amazing to watch Tracey and David cross the river.  Tony was so excited to meet David in person while helping him cross the river, they had been Facebook friends for several years already but not met in person until this day.

The next aid station was where I would get to pace David.  It was Highway 49, mile 93.5.  While driving there we saw No Hands Bridge lit up at night.  My heart thumped with excitement knowing I would cross this with David shortly after daybreak.  We arrived at the parking area and I told the rest of the crew to nap.  I was up every five minutes again checking my phone for updates.  They were happy every time I told them to set their alarms for another half hour.  I was so restless, I just wanted to get there and start running with David.  To help him get to the finish.  I finally woke the crew for good and we caught the shuttle to the aid station.  We sat down and waited for our runner.  When David arrived he looked great.  He refueled and gave his wife a kiss and we were off.  Tracey told me to stay ahead of him but keep him in sight.  I did exactly as she said.  I am not as fast of a runner as David but I did the best I could.  He followed at my pace, he talked little, I talked a lot.  Luckily we have this understanding that he doesn’t have to answer or reply while I yammer on, he has yet to tell me to shut up.  We ran down such a mix of trail, it was single track them wide enough for two people and a minute later you had a huge drop off on one side.  He told me as we approached No Hands Bridge that he wanted to walk across it.  Walking across No Hands Bridge with David will be a highlight in my running life forever.  I was just that cool, something I had heard about for many years but almost could not believe I was a doing.  The temperatures were beginning to rise again and the sun was baking us even this early in the day.  As I knew we were beginning our climb I told David to take one last look around as this was the last time he was seeing this scenery.  Near the top of the climb I looked back and said, “That was some hill.”  David said stoically, “That was NOT a hill.”  I had to laugh at my flatlander opinion of a hill but since David had just climbed up and down the Sierra Nevada Mountains for the past day, I guess his opinion of a “hill” is vastly different from mine.  When were nearing top and about to leave the trail for good and head onto pavement, David told me to stop.  I immediately thought something was wrong.  He asked me to come back to him.  I did and he embraced me and he thanked me for all I did to help him achieve this goal.  I was overwhelmed.  His sincerity and thankfulness was beyond words.  Even as I type this tears come to my eyes. 

       We hit the pavement and were surprised to see spectators.  Residents were on the streets to cheer us on.  There were balloons on the side of the road marking the course and kids on their bikes yelling and clapping for us.  We pass small neighborhood parties along the way and then we see Amanda, Hannah and Tracey.  Erick had dropped them off and then driven to the finish to meet us.  We all ran in and basked in the knowing that David was doing this.  That he would be getting his Western States 100 buckle.  We traveled down the streets of town and made the last turn onto the track of the Placer High School in Auburn.  To run this last segment on the track with him was amazing.  We rounded the last corner and David stopped.  He reached out and calls all of us in for a massive group hug and took a minute to thank us, there was no doubt the amount of appreciation he felt right now.  It took a team effort to get David to his finish. I was thrilled that he asked me to be a part of it and even happier that he achieved his goal.  We let him slip away from our embrace and we watch him cross the finish line, 27 hours, 35 minutes and 38 seconds after his journey began.  The race may have taken place in slightly more than one day.  But the memories will love on forever.