Pokey Thoughts and Procrastination

Sooooo, I'm in the middle of packing for this weekend's adventure, the Pocatello 50 Mile, and am in need of some procrastination.  Per the website, the Pokey boasts 12,600 ft of vertical climbing, and is actually closer to 53 miles.  Cute.  I like to put things in perspective so as to lessen any 'fear' I may have surrounding something.  In last year's Bear 100 race the first 47ish miles packed in 14,000 ft of vertical climbing leaving a measly 8,000 for the last 53ish miles.  And I freakin' ate that stuff up.  I'm totally down for this challenge.  Also, there is some alleged glissading involved coming down off of Scout Mountain (the high point of the race) so this will indeed be a delicious adventure.  I feel ready, and I feel excited.  May the trail be with us.

Oh, yea, packing.  Isn't it funny how difficult something can be when you've been away from it for a time?  Like this time last year, we were setting off on the most AMAZING ADVENTURE OF OUR LIVES TO DATE.  You know, that whole quit-our-jobs-move-across-the-country-then-spend-the-summer-on-the-road-running-up-mountains-and-generally-galevanting-about thing.  We became very well acquainted with our truck and camping inside said truck on our fancy shmancy sleeping platform that Uncle Jim built for us in the back.  Now I have no idea where to start.  I know we need things like a bottle opener, cups, cooler, and coffee (hello priorities).  Oh, yea, and sleeping pads, a blanket and pillows.  Oh, a headlamp for middle-of-the-night bathroom runs.  LOL, 'runs'.  I'm pumped.  Camping.  Been almost a year since we've done that.  I'd like to become reacquainted with camping again.  That was such a blast last summer :)

Last weekend we adventured over to Park City for a final long run in the mountains with some fun peeps.  Meghan put together a great loop run and Jen Benna, her husband JB and pup Luna joined us for the jaunt.  Vince H. jumped in at Big Mountain Pass the second time and ran with us to the end.  We started at Jeremy Ranch and ran some incredibly beautiful single track on the Mormon Pioneer Trail, up to Big Mountain Pass, out to tag Big Mountain (as seen here)...

The Ladies

With Jen and Meghan (Geof shot this one on Meghan's phone)

Then we headed back to the Pass to meet up with Vince before continuing on the Great Western Trail (and a portion of the Wasatch 100 course) and then finishing back in Jeremy Ranch.  Beautiful day, but boy did I feel like ass!  I started out fine, but the general malaise that had plagued me the last week or so settled back in and my head and body felt really off most of the run.  My legs felt awesome, but everything else was just...off.  Needless to say, I got it handed to me on that run, but it was good to have such strong runners along with us as it pulled us along and we finished far faster than we would have on our own on that day...as in, I probably would have suggested pulling the plug if it had just been Geof and I, so thank you for the extra motivation Jen, Meghan, and Vince!  Cold beer didn't even sound good when we got done, if that's any indication of what my condition was ;)  The next day, I never would have guessed we ran 24.5 miles in the mountains as my body felt fresh as a daisy and my legs showed no signs of a long run, so I took that as a good sign and we hopped on our bikes for a 20 mile road ride that afternoon after getting back from Park City.  Booya.

I keep forgetting we have a 100 mile bike ride at the end of June...

But first things first, Pocatello!

Oh, did I mention Geof and I celebrated year numero dos on May 21st?  We did, and we celebrated in style...

Garlic burgers, Coors Light on tap, and an outdoor patio

The traditional second wedding anniversary gift is cotton, so instead of acquiring more 'stuff' I wanted to get a little creative.  We enjoyed our nosh and beer at the Cotton Bottom Inn at the base of Big Cottonwood Canyon.  What's not to love about that?!  It was delicious!  Good food, great memories.

Well I suppose I should get back to packing, and finishing up our laundry.  Pretty nice little day I've got here.  Tonight we venture over to Red Butte Garden for an outdoor concert with Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes.  Saaaaa-weet!

P.S. If you haven't read THIS yet, please do.  It is pure hilarity.  Dax is one of my favorite bloggers.  He makes me hoot n' holler.

To the mountains!

Paige, out.

Running Around in Our Backyard

Ahhhhhhh, now I can breathe :)  It is now exactly two weeks since classes ended, one week since I  turned in my application for the Physical Therapist Assistant program (THE goal that has led my life the last four years, more or less), and one week since I finally began to relax.  Like, truly relax.  Even though the Summer of GnP last summer was supreme relaxation and awesome, I still had school and my application burning in the back of my mind.  Those things still hung in the future.  

And now, I wait.  Wait for the future to unfold, wait for my academic fate to reveal itself.  Wait.  Like waiting for your runner to come into the aid station where you are supposed to start pacing.  You've had no contact with them other than a cryptic pre-race text giving an approximate arrival time, plus or minus 4 hours, and quick run-down of expectations, and you've never actually met them in person for that matter.  There are no HAM radio operators to give you an idea of where they are on the course and thus you don't want to escape to the warm confines of your vehicle out of fear of missing them.  So you wait, outside, in the cold, rainy night.  It's sorta like that.  Except a little more fun because I can totally go hang out in the warmth :)  But you know what I mean.  

And I run.  Today is my first day off running in 13 days, two of those were doubles, a couple long runs, one of which was in Moab, and a whole bunch of climbing, and some mud/snow/rain/sun.  I forgot to take a day off last week, and the week before.  Oops.  There is just so much great running to be had here.  It's insane.  And it'll only get better as the season settles in.  

Back in April, Geof and I partook in our first running of the official unofficial BoSho Trail Marathon, unofficially 'hosted' but not really by the MRC.  It's a bit of an 'underground' race.  It is also pure ridiculousness.  Twenty-six point four miles, and a whopping 6,579 ft of climbing packed into that short distance. An equivalent 100 mile elevation chart would reveal ~25,000 ft (so Wasatch 100, pretty much).  The weather was perfect for the day (warm-ish, overcast, and windy on the peaks).  Geof and I ran together the whole time, shared in the grunting climb up Uncle F****r Hill, that one big climb on the norther section of the big loop, all those other climbs up unknown peaks, across windy ridge lines that produced sweeping views of the valley below and the mountains beside us, through the canyons, along smooth single-track trail, rocky washes, one large bog, up and down and up and down and up up UP.  It was an incredible route which introduced us to new (to us) sections of the Bonneville Shoreline Trail, gave our legs a good beating, and made us hungry for more.  We sailed into the "finish" line (don't forget, it's not a race, just a group run ;)) in a hair over 5h:50m and we couldn't imagine having run it any faster.  That is one tough course.  This was the first year (I believe) that a woman broke 5 hours on the course, and there were a couple.  So next year, my goal will be to hit about 5 hours.  It's definitely possible, especially now that we know the route and can run it...often :)

Other than that, we have just been doing a lot of fun running, and prepping (sort of) for Pocatello 50 on June 1.  That's supposed to be a doozy of a race, with the winning times near 9 hours, so that means a long day for the average person.  Sounds like it's going to be a lot of fun, even if there is bushwhacking involved.

What's that?  Oh, you want some pictures?  Okay.  Sure, why not.  

Antelope Island in April...  

Moab in May...

Dodo birds headed to Gemini Bridges...

On the Great Escape trail

He's just got this glow about him...

Dead Horse Point State Park in May...

Channeling my high school pom-pom days

After four plus hours in the car driving home from Moab, I really needed some alpine and dirt so we pulled into Millcreek Canyon and played roulette with the trailhead signs.  We landed on the Burch Hollow/Pipeline Trail and all I did was swap out my shirt before we headed out for a quick four miles.  I ran in my casual shorts.  I needed that run, bad.  And it was goooood.

Red-rock-country-to-dirt-n-rock-country

Pipeline-Elbow Fork-Lamb's Canyon-Mt. Aire-Terraces/Elbow Fork-Pipeline run yesterday...

Socked in near 9,000 ft

The aspens are blooming!

After kicking steps into the snow on an uncomfortably steep face heading up to Lamb's Canyon Pass, we decided to turn it around and instead run up Mt. Aire.  I was running in front and was making my way across the snow when I decided it was probably a bad idea to continue as it was probably only going to continue that way.  I froze.  The first thought to cross my mind?  Please don't let the last thought I ever have be 'Oh, Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree!'  Geof reminded me to relax, and I very sloooooooowwwwwly turned around and made my way back to the muddy trail.  It was a single line of melting tracks I was following, and I had to kick new ones in order to stay upright.  I probably won't do that again :) 

So I was VERY excited to run once we got back on the snow-free part of the trail!

Oh, Wasatch National Forest, how do I love thee?  Let me count the ways...

Yesterday's exploration run landed us a mere 13+ miles, but packed with a punch to the tune of 4,600 ft of climbing.  Geof's calculations revealed an equivalent ~35,000 ft. of climb over 100 miles.  That's our litmus test...how much would a course's climbing translate into over 100 miles?  If it passes the sniff test, then we're cool with it ;)  Now we have another great route to use when we're hungry for ascent.

I love running in our backyard :)

Paige, out.

Proud to Be a Runner

I'm sitting here at the computer trying to find every way possible to procrastinate doing any homework, wearing a tee in a rather unfeminine shade of forest green with yellow screen printing on it, announcing to the world I ran Bear 100.  I had planned on writing about this past weekend's BoSho Marathon...but that will have to wait because now it's turning into a different sort of post.

And I'm reflecting.  Wearing a race shirt and reflecting on all that running is to me.

Yesterday's tragic events (that sounds so trite, but I'm not sure how else to properly say it right now) in Boston have launched me into hyper-reflection mode.  I feel like it was not just an attack on those who were physically present, but also an attack on me and my "family".  If you're a runner, you are family.  I felt/feel very personally attacked, and I was over 2,000 miles away.  I can hardly begin to imagine what it must have been like to be there.

I was at work when I first learned of the events via text message from Geof.  I immediately grabbed a computer, seeking out further information.  I felt hot with rage.  My face felt like it was boiling over, and my skin crawled.  Who would do such a thing?  And to runners?!  Really???

My heart completely pours out to all those affected by this.

And, as silly as this is going to sound, my heart pours out to all those who got completely robbed of a truly epic life event.  Something they trained their a**es off for, paid out the wazoo to be there for, and anticipated for months, years, perhaps even a lifetime.  Boston is a big deal to a lot of people.  And a lot of people just got robbed.  Robbed of the achievement, of the amazing memories, of the awesome exhaustion that follows such a fantastic journey; robbed of the chance to field questions and awe from those around them upon their return home...robbed of a whole bunch of comparatively little things that add up to a really big thing, and robbed of perhaps even more (life, family, friends, vision, hearing, the ability to ambulate, etc. if they were too close to ground zero).  Marathon Monday is forever marred by the senseless acts of some really horrible people.

It makes me sick.

And it makes me sick because now I'm scared.  Which is the whole idea behind terrorism.  I still want to qualify for Boston again, but now I don't really want to run it.  And that pisses me off.

As I saw posted somewhere online yesterday, karma's going to have a field day with those involved.  Watch out, karma's a b***h ya'll.

I'm not usually one to so openly post about these kinds of things, but this one hit a little too close to home.  BTW, how ridiculous is it that we live in an age where "these kinds of things" is becoming frequent enough that one can refer to them as "these kinds of things"??

So today, we run, as with any other day, but today with more love in our hearts and vigor in our legs than ever before.  We run because we can, because we love it, because it is everything that is right in the world, because those who run are some of the most incredible people I have ever known in my life. And because there is just no way that the individual(s) involved in these events is/are a runner(s).  Not that non-runners are bad people.  Just that runners are awesome people :)  And today we wear race shirts, proudly.  Hence, my ugly green Bear 100 shirt :)

I guess the only thing we can do in the wake of all of this is to be thankful for the gift we have as runners (of inherent amazingness, of high doses of endorphins that keep us happy and healthy); thankful for our loved ones, for our health, for everything wonderful that surrounds us.  And thankful for all the people in this world who do really amazing and wonderful things every single day.  There are a lot more good people in the world than there are bad.  It's just that the bad apples are the ones who really stand out and cloud our view at times.  So smile, say thank you, give a sincere hug, a friendly wave, a bigger tip, and for goodness sake, say hello to your fellow runners as you pass them on the road/trail/sidewalk/path instead of acting like you're in the zone and far too cool to acknowledge anyone else ;)

Paige, out.

I Run, Therefore I Am...A Runner

A nearly permanent crease encircles the long mane of yellow blonde hair...the sign of a serial ponytailer.

The first sign that this is, in fact, a runner.

Skin that still shows its youth but is beginning to betray the youthful zeal of the mind.  There is no denying the infant crows feet that form with every smile.  When the eyebrows are raised, the creases in the forehead overstay their welcome these days.  Shadows of late onset acne and adolescent chickenpox blemish the skin here and there.  An 'x'-shaped scar between the eyebrows, reminders of an active youth...reminders of the need to practice caution :)

Signs of life lived.

The neck, long and slender, bleeds into boney but feminine shoulders.  Clavicles and a sternum that appear to tent-pole the skin that lays taut over them.  Arms are long and lean, matching their leggy counterparts quite well.  Muscled, but not too.  A vein pops from the right forearm with a clenched fist.  The shoulders show their tone from thousands of hours of running, and thousands of minutes of plank pose.  The back, often overlooked, is beginning to show signs of care, signs of strength, finally.  Watching so many others crippled by neglect of the spine has provided enough motivation.

Impossibly slender wrists terminate at spidery fingers with their plain nails and cuticles that would make any esthetician shudder.  But they're strong hands, if dainty.  A small scar on the back of the right hand...a reminder of the need to practice caution while ice skating.

The trunk, long and narrow.  A small but perceptible ripple over the abdomen shows off the fruits of those thousands of minutes of plank pose.  Three small scars near the pelvis are another reminder...that the appendix is an unnecessary organ.  The hips are boyish and narrow, but strong as oxen, and give birth to two long legs.

They are the proving grounds.  These legs show hard work, determination, and heredity.  They tell the world, "I am a runner."  Where once they were soft and shapeless they are now strong and toned.  Quads completely separate from knees, completely separate from calves, completely separate from ankles.  Tendons and muscles clearly identifiable under pale wintery skin.  Proof of the years spent running.  Proof of all the calf raises, lunges, squats, and single-leg dead lifts.  But what feminine legs are absent the blemish of adiposis edematosa (that is, cellulite)?  Certainly not these.  No matter what, the basic femaleness of these legs will always stay true to their heritage.  Cellulite is the bane of all women, small and large.  A good reminder of one's simple humanity.

The knees, scarred by more than a few tumbles, show their wear.  They show it proud.  They are not attractive in the typical sense.  They are boney and formerly knobby.  But they are strong, they are reliable, and they are powerful.

The feet.  Each tendon pops to life, smiling with each footstep.  All those hours and years spent on feet.  All those foot strengthening exercises to get rid of orthotics.  All those balance stances.  All those calluses.  The feet, they are happy.  The faintest signs of bunions make themselves apparent, revealing a former penchant for pointy high heeled shoes...revealing good old heredity.  The nails are painted a vibrant fire-engine red.  A sign of spring.  A sign of sandal season.

But the surest sign of the runner is the drying rack and its daily rotating wardrobe of various stages of sweaty clothing.  The pile of running shoes beside the front door, and the coat closet shoe rack covered in runners of all shades and styles, each in rotation, each for a different purpose, different terrain, different mileage.  The pile of velcro ice packs in the freezer.  The chest of drawers dedicated solely to running clothes.  The row of shelves in the basement housing nothing but running paraphernalia.  The stash of wet wipes under the front seat of the truck.  The yoga mat that lives on the living room floor, used solely for planks and foam rolling.  And the foam roller.  It is a fine piece of furniture, indeed.

I am a runner.  I am me.

I ache, I creak, I hobble at times; I've limped and I've wobbled, too.  But mostly, I run.  The run makes all of that go away; pushes it off until the next morning.  Each day a little easier, each day a little stronger.

This is my body.  This is me.

It is not perfect, it is not brand new.  It is exactly what I want and how I want it.  Perfectly mine.  Perfectly capable.  Perfectly willing to do the work.

I run, therefore I am...a runner.

Paige, out.

Antelope Island Buffalo Run 50M

Back in the fall, Geof and I decided to be a little more proactive in our 2013 racing schedule and signed up for a few things while we felt motivated.  Fast forward to March 23, 2013, we step outside and look down in disbelief as our feet crunch down into a couple inches of fresh powder on our doorstep.

"What the?!"  Motivation...sprung a leak.

Oh, I see, so that's the kind of day ahead of us.  That's cool.  It's a good thing we're ultra runners.  Part of the challenge is adapting to your environment and just dealing with it.  That's what makes the finish all the more sweet, right?  Right.

It's a good thing the snow ended a few miles north on I-15.  Cool :)

We made our way across the causeway and onto Antelope Island for the very first time race morning.  Picking up our packets and numbers at the first parking lot we couldn't help but notice how insanely cold it was.  Recall we are still a little bitter about how long, cold, and snowy our winter was this year and running in temps in the teens all day wasn't tops on our list at the end of March.

But, when in Rome.

Huddling in the warming tent at the start/finish we had just enough time to put our one drop bag in place and chew the fat with KZ for a hot minute.  There was little (read: no) fanfare to the start, which I dig, and we were off before I even had a chance to contemplate how incredibly full my bladder was.  My abdomen was distended, I had to pee that bad :)

Now when I say there was nowhere to pee for the first 15 miles, I mean it quite literally.  This was a first for me.  And I emerged victorious.  The boulder that I ended up crouching behind, however, not so victorious.  Unless it likes urine.

ANYWHO.  Talk about tangential thought!

So there we were running, up, up, up.  By no means was the initial climb steep, it was just consistent and relentless.  And it was really dark.  I just pointed my headlamp down at Geof's feet and I followed diligently as we passed our way from the back to the front in short order.  I was breathing pretty heavy, and noted to myself that, if left to my own devices, I would have been walking that first ascent.  But, since it was buttass cold I was perfectly happy GOTF'ing (Going Out Too Fast) in order to keep warm.  Eventually we crested whatever it was we were climbing.  My heart stopped more times than I can count on account of all the perfectly placed rocks and ruts in the trail.  I'm still a little gun-shy after my most recent spill.  Oh, did I ever share that picture with you?  Here you go:

Looks like a coupla nice GSWs, no?  Yea, that's what I got for run-commuting to work earlier last month.  Less than a mile from home.  I kept on running though, looking like a total madhouse I'm sure.  They really look way worse than they turned out to be.  Mere surface wounds.

So, yea, I was a little paranoid about falling again.

I am happy to report that I managed to stay upright throughout the entire 50 mile run :)

It was bloody cold and windy on account of our being on an island in the middle of a lake large enough to be seen from outer space and with its own weather system.  This ended up working in our favor, however, as the day wore on.  We were graced with pretty much totally sunny skies and upper 20s for highs.  We could see the low cloud ceiling (and snow) settled over SLC and the valley off to the east and south all day.  I was super glad to be on the island this day.

The west side of the island COMPLETELY ROCKS.  It's a rocky, craggy, mountainous lump of land, the likes of which I was not expecting.  And I loved it.  Buffalo roam freely here and we saw tons of these little fellas all day long.  It's slightly amazing to see these enormous beasts.  Makes you feel very, very small, but in a good way.  Nature rocks.

We hit the Elephant Head AS (mile 5.3) in fine time and were immediately directed to run out to the point and back (you have the option of doing it first, or on your way back to the start/finish).  This was yet another really cool section.  Approaching this section, a pacer of a 100 mile runner proclaimed, "hey, you're the first lady!"  Yea, right.  I knew she had to be on something.  There was no way Sarah M. wasn't ahead of me.  In any event, a fire was lit under my a** and I suddenly felt a little motivated.  Just before we hit Elephant Head I looked up to see Sarah approaching, smiley as can be (she always is; it's awesome).  See, I was right :)  So that meant I was actually in second place.  

HOLY CRAP.

Geof knew he was in for it now.  We grabbed our stickers at the turnaround point (to prove we ran the Elephant Head leg) and busted out of there.  The narrow single track makes passing interesting, but we managed.  A buffalo was on the trail up ahead, but luckily he skittered off the trail as soon as he heard us approaching.  Hitting the Elephant Head AS again (three times total here) I grabbed a Gu Roctane (my current fave gel) and we split.  Both of our water bottles were freezing, and the nozzles were ice.  Did I mention it was cold?  My fingers were actually in pain, they were so cold.  And I was a snot factory what with the wind in our faces and all.  

I liked being able to see other runners with the various out-and-backs on this course.  It was very motivating.  We weaved and bobbed along the undulating trail taking us all the way over to the shore on the west side.  It was like being transported to another time and place.  It was so pretty.  Finally there were some boulders strewn about, and we sized each one up as possible bathrooms.  I picked a good one and was none too happy to finally get to pee.  I instantly felt 10 pounds lighter.  Whew!  Now, back to the running!

I don't need to win things (though it is fun), and I certainly have nothing to prove, so I was just super content to hold onto my 2nd place spot as long as I could, just to see.  Geof wasn't feeling the greatest, but he was a really good sport and pushed through it in order to help me meet my goal.  We ran everything those first 19.5 miles.  A lot of it was stuff I would normally walk at least some of in a race.  Those first 19.5 miles also have just about all of the elevation gain of the entire race, 3,800 feet.  I didn't realize this at the time, but now I'm glad we ran all of that.  

I kept wondering if our GOTF was going to catch up to us.  And then suddenly we were back at the start/finish, grabbing dry clothes from our drop bag, fresh gloves, and getting sucked in by the warm tent.  We reached the tent in 3 hours flat, and spent about 15 minutes here.  I decided to let go of needing to hold onto 2nd place.  I wasn't here to do anything fast.  I was here to run 50 miles with my husband, and finish under 9 hours.  That's it.  Plus, I held onto second place for 19.5 miles.  That's pretty good in my book, especially considering the fasties I was running amongst.

Once back on the trail, heading east toward the Mountain View trail things began to warm up.  The east side of the island was a little warmer and we were running with the wind at our backs once we hit the 21.5 mile turnaround (which was my lowest point, and the point at which I could no longer feel any of my fingers, my face, or the snot streaking my cheeks).  I saw Amie and Suzanne ahead of me, and knew well enough Sarah was far enough ahead that we missed her here.  So I only gave up two spots.  I can live with that :)

Hitting the Mountain View AS at mile 23ish we began what would be a really, really long version of 20 miles.  Imagine: long, flat, featureless, flat, long, flat.  I knew we were running to the southern end of the island, but I didn't realize we'd be able to see it almost the entire way.  That kind of thing can make a runner go crazy.  I can't imagine doing that section twice (in the 100 miler).  We ran this completely on the way out because there just weren't any inclines/good excuses to walk.  Reaching the Lower Frary Peak AS (mi 27.4) in 4.5 hours I was ecstatic...until Geof informed me this was not the turn around, and it was not mile 33.

OH.  MY.  GOD.  WHAT?!

Feeling more than a little crestfallen, we pushed on.  The Ranch couldn't have arrived any slower.  I felt every single minute of this entire part of the race.  Every second, every tick of the clock, every breath.  I felt it, processed it, ticked it off, and took the next breath, next step, next second.  Rarely am I ever so keenly aware of the passage of time.  It was mentally painful.  

We hit the turnaround at the Ranch (mi 33) in 5:45...very decent.  After a bathroom break, and some more Roctane, we were headed back out.  Now the wind was in our faces again and would remain so until the finish.  At least the sun was out completely and the temperature felt rather lovely by now.

Lower Frary Peak AS (mi 38.7) came a lot quicker than it did the first time, and we made awesome time getting back there.  Time passed much quicker after Frary, and we hit Mountain View AS (mi 44) in what felt like warp speed.  

Must have been the Coca-Cola and Roctane :)

There's a short section through a field with no discernible trail, other than wooden stakes to follow.  There were a few bison along the way, which we gave a wide berth so as to avoid seeming aggressive.  So cool.  

And just like that we were at the final aid station, Lakeside (mi 46), and also my second favorite part of the course.  It seriously feels like a fantasy land of sorts on the west side of the island.  I felt as though I were floating...pure awesome.  I knew we were almost done, and I knew we were going to handily break 9 hours.  The trail wound through boulder fields covered in a thin layer of bright green grass.  GREEN GRASS, in March!!  Sun shining on my face and arms, caffeine in my system, buffalo stew waiting to get in my belly at the finish!  

I felt high.  And it was fantastic.  The runner's high is in short supply during long runs, so I was surprised to experience it at the end of a 50 mile race.

We rounded the last bend and could see the finish line tent in the distance.  A short stretch of blacktop before cutting back onto a gravel road, lefthand turn, one more, and then we finally got to sit.  And eat. 

I felt elated.  We did it: 8h:47m:24s.

Thinking two other women had passed me on the Mountain View Trail, I was thinking I took 6th, but when Nick S. congratulated me on taking 4th place, I had to see for myself.  True story!  Considering I took fourth to three crazy-talented local runners I feel pretty darn good about how we ran.  And 3rd in my age group to boot.

Cherry on top.

Post race thoughts:

We both agreed we never wanted to run this one again.  Once was enough.  And now, we're pretty sure we're signing up again for 2014.  That's how it usually goes :)

This was a deceptively difficult run.  With 3,800 feet of climb and mind-blowingly beautiful sights packed into the first 19+ miles, I sort of got amped on the idea that the race was going to continue in this fashion.  And then there was 26 miles of flat, unremarkable terrain to be had before closing with five awesome miles.  It's a good thing we'd done a lot of flat running leading up to this race.  Otherwise we probably would have bit it hard.  But, now we know :)  And next time we'll be prepared mentally to tackle that section better.  

Turns out GOTF was just fine on this day.  There were a couple of times where my stomach started to churn in an effort to ask me, nicely, to slow down a little, to which I obliged each time.  Had I not been so aware, our GOTF'ing might of bit me in the rear.  So, it all worked out.  And now I want to do it again :)

The race organization was fantastic.  Great aid stations, great finisher mugs, great buffalo stew, great cookies, great finish line atmosphere, great volunteers.  

I wore my new Brooks Cascadia 8s the entire day...LOVE THEM.  I don't know exactly what they did to this version (I don't really pay attention to that stuff :)), but whatever it is works.  I've been a Cascadia gal since the 3s, and I give each one a try, hoping they get it right with each iteration.  And the 8 is the one!  Great tread, great cushion, great lacing system, great forefoot space.  Greatness.  

A huge thank you to Geof for entertaining my competitive streak and letting me have my way this day :-)  You are a trooper, sweets!!

So, what's next?  One more month of classes, finals, and Pocatello 50 mile of course :)  Why not!

Paige, out.

Show Me the Money!

Well, show MS sufferers the money, is more like it :)

So remember when I mentioned awhile back that I'll be participating in my first ever endurance bike ride?  Yes, I was serious, and yes, a serious case of the rides will come to fruition this June 29-30, 2013.

Geof and I will be joining the Wells Fargo Bike Team in riding 100 miles this June for the National MS Society all through the gorgeous Cache Valley region of northern Utah.  It's a fantastic challenge for both of us, in both the cycling and fundraising arenas.  Both of these things intimidate me.  Massively.

But, honestly, what could be more intimidating than hearing the words, "You have MS?"  Yea, exactly.  So I go forth and conquer on behalf of all of those who have had to hear those words!

First, I've never biked more than maybe 20 miles in one go.  Second, I'm a terrible fundraiser...I always feel funny about asking people for their money.  But, this year is about doing things that scare me, and saying 'yes' more; stepping outside of my comfort zone.

And using my dear blog as a platform for said money begging :)

It's not a race, it's a ride.  It's about assisting support programs, services, and research that makes a huge difference to the people who must fight MS every day of their lives.  For the people who don't have a choice.  The National Multiple Sclerosis ("NMSS") is dedicated to a vision of a world free of MS.  And you know what's really cool about the NMSS?  They not only provide support and services (free of charge, mind you) to those suffering from the disease, but also to the family members and caretakers of those with MS.  

How can you not love that?

I don't know about you, but MS has been all around me most of my life.  I don't have personal experience with it, but I've watched as others have personally experienced what the disease does to them and their families.  It's heartbreaking, and it's a sentence for many.  Through the efforts of the National MS Society (a non-profit organization), and donors like you :), we can one day see the light at the end of the MS tunnel.  

My fundraising goal is a measly $250 right now, mostly because I lack any real confidence in my ability to ask others for money.  But I'm really hoping to blow that goal out of the water.  If you think you'd like to help me meet my goal, please click on the below link to go directly to my personal fundraising page and make a quick n' easy donation.  Every little bit counts, and I appreciate anything you are willing to do.  

Paige's Bike MS Fundraising Page

In the meantime, I'm resting ye' old legs in the wake of a lot of running miles this week.  Cycling season is looking verrrrrry appealing right now :)

Thank you for reading, and thank you for your donation.

Paige, out.

Moab's Red Hot 55k: Smokin' Hot

I seem to recall that after the last time I ran this race, I would definitely not run it again.  Once was enough.  Done.  Next!  

Then September 2012 rolled around and registration for the 2013 race opened.  

I lied.

"Well it's pretty much a local race for us now, we may as well."  "It's Moab, how can you pass that up?"  "It's selling out fast, we should probably jump on it if we think we want to run."  And just like that, we were signed up.  

*Sigh*  

Wyn in Seattle even jumped on it, hoping to make it his first ultra (but turned out a feisty calf wasn't going to allow the adventure just yet).  And that's all the extra push Rob needed to sign up and run his first ultra.  

So much for not running it again.

December came and went, then the INSANELY BITTER COLD AND INVERTED month of January rolled around and we decided it was time to do some training for the February 16th race.  OH MY GOSH, IT WAS SO COLD AND NEVER SEEMED TO STOP SNOWING in January (e.g. three feet of snow in one 36-hour period, and that was just the first storm of the month).  But we got out and ran anyway.  Now I'm like, "Cold?  What cold?  Bring it 15 degrees, you ain't got nuthin' on 3 degrees with an inversion and snow!"

By the time race day rolled around, I felt pretty darn ready to hit the ground running in Moab.  At dinner the night before, at the Moab Brewery of course, I said I thought we could go under 6 hours.  Reasonable enough goal.  But I knew that no matter what we would be getting a course PR.  Last time we ran it in 6:48 and some change.  Cake.

This year's race upped the ante a touch and ended up re-opening registration a couple more times as the BLM allowed them to increase the field size.  Over 800 runners toed the line (55k runners and 33k runners) on one of the most beautiful days I've seen in a long time.  Sun was out, temps were promising mid-40s, zero clouds, and most of the snow/ice had melted off the slickrock.  Booya!

Rina dropped Rob, Geof and I off at the main parking area and we then walked the remaining 3/4 miles up the road to the trailhead/race start.  It was shaping up to be a perfect day.  Yes, perfect.  The race started exactly on time, and we were soon running up the initial incline passing by a whole lot of walkers and amblers.  That felt pretty good, especially because we walked that entire climb last time.  This was one of only a few spots still covered in snow.  Once we crested the mesa ridge, though, it was smooth sailing and snow free.  Awesome.

Matt Vukin snapped a quick shot for us before we walked up to the start area.  Sun, on our faces, so glorious!

Rob hung with us pretty much up to the halfway mark, at mile 17ish.  We stopped at the top of the mesa to get a quick picture/get oxygen :)  

Honestly, the run went so completely uneventfully that I have so little to report, other than that my competitive streak showed it's face a little :) ...it was downright fantastic.  

The views were stellar, the sun was so warm and inviting, and I loved not having to wear gloves!  I recalled two particular sections of the course that I was a touch nervous about...a big crevasse a la 127 hours, and an extremely steep rock face that you have to scramble up on all fours (and of course that was one of the only three spots with snow/ice on it this year).  Since we've been doing a ton of road running this year so far, I wasn't at all worried about the 17+ miles of slickrock running.  I was more worried about where to pee on the sparsely adorned red rock :)  The crevasse came up fast and I watched as others leapt across it with ease.  I got to the edge then froze.  Suddenly I was totally Aron Ralston, watching my life flash before me deep in a red rock slot.  There was a big boulder wedged into the slot just to the left and I opted to use that as a stepping stone instead of trying to leap.  Luckily, I didn't fall into the slot, wedging my arm between a rock...and a hard place.  

Sorry, couldn't resist.  

Despite the more than doubled field size from the last time we ran this race, the aid stations were awesome.  They never ran out of water (like last time) and they were stocked with all sorts of good stuff, and gels.  I stuck to drinking Coke and eating gels and Reese's cups.  Yum.  Geof and Rob took advantage of the buffets, though, and for a change, I was waiting on them ;-)  

Arriving at the top of Gold Bar Rim wasn't nearly as tough as I remembered it.  Actually, none of the race was.  So I took that as a good thing.  The slickrock definitely feels harder than pavement though.  When I could feel my teeth and eyeballs shaking with each step I decided this was fact.

I kept close watch on my watch and when the halfway point came and went I felt we were in fine form to finish up just under 6 hours.  Rob said he was going to pull back a little at that point, and we headed on up the trail.  He was doing great and in awesome spirits so we knew he was going to pull it off.  That was exciting!!

After what seemed like 47 years of running across a slickrock mesa, and running really well, we arrived at the mile 28 aid station.  When we looked at our watches we realized that 6 hours was not going to happen.  

Well eff.

Re-evaluate and adjust.

After leaving the 28 mile aid station.  The sky was crazy blue!

This is going to sound really silly and obnoxious, but I've sort of gotten used to meeting and exceeding my goals in running.  I always feel like I make very reasonable, and just a little bit out of reach, goals, so it's not like I sandbag myself.  And I felt this race was no different.  How on earth did we get so behind on time then?!  I felt a touch deflated.  BUT, we were still going to PR on the course.  Silver lining :)  I consciously picked up the pace and focused.  No more dilly dallying.  I had some beef with the course now.  I hadn't really focused at all until this point; I had been running very unfocused and just plain enjoying the day and what came.  Which is really great!  It felt like a good ol' training run rather than a race.  I haven't run a race in that mindset in quite awhile.  And once I focused, I realized what I could have done differently in order to reach my goal.  Lesson: learned.  

Anywho, all was not lost, not even close.  We were having a supremely good day, in a mind-blowingly beautiful place...and there were three women up ahead on a flat, technical section.  I decided we were going to pass them.  That sounds bad, so bad, but it was a good goal and I wanted to redeem myself somehow.  We hadn't seen any of these runners all race, so that meant we made up a good deal of ground.  Boom!  I checked with Geof to make sure he was cool with picking up the pace and passing in the final two miles.  Done.  It was 6:09 on my watch.  Time to do a little work.

One, two, three, passed, and a couple guys.  I mentally apologized for passing each one of them so close to the end, but they were each so nice as we ran past them.  Now came the very technical (read: extremely rocky and unsafe) downhill switchbacks.  The very same switchbacks which taught me how to run technical downhills just two years prior.  Geof was ahead pulling me along.  I was now officially running out of control.  I actually felt like I was out-of-body in the final 3/4 miles.  I can't believe I didn't fall!  It was almost as if my feet barely touched the ground.  I was breathing heavy not because of effort but out of fear!  I could feel my eyes darting side to side looking for the next place to put my foot.  I don't think I heard anything but my breathing and my heartbeat.  It was intense!  Even just recalling it, and typing this out, my heart rate has spiked!  

"Yeaaaa Chicagoooooo!"  Bryon P. was overhead, shouting down to us as we ran past.  As we rounded a corner I looked up to see who it was, "Don't look at me, look at the trail!" :)

Matt Vukin was at the final bend and snapped us running by, all smiles and totally stoked to be almost done!

Photo credit: Matt Vukin

We crossed the finish line in 6:25 and change, good for a 23 minute PR on the course.  Bam!  

So that felt good to finish, and in the sun, and with a positively booming finish line party.  The place was bumpin'!  Music, food, vendors, runners, spectators.  It was a spectacle!  Around 3:30pm Rob rolled in as we crowded the finish line for him.  He looked great and was all smiles as well.  

Congratulations on your first ultra finish, Rob!!!  

The day was warmer than expected, and Rob retrofitted his pants into shorts :)

Photo credit: Matt Vukin

We all hopped onto one of the shuttle buses back to the parking area and then headed back to the condos to clean up and begin the revelry.  Pizza, PBR, friends, my sweetie, and lots of great conversation and relaxation.  What more could a gal as for?!

And when in Moab, you go to Eklecticafe for a cubano and fuel in the morning.  This was my first experience at Eklecticafe, and certainly not my last!  Afterward, Geof and I, Rob, Rina, Lucy-girl, Wyn and Sarah headed to Arches for the requisite hike to Delicate Arch.  I LOVE THIS PLACE.

Photo credit: Rina Hooper

Who's sore?  Not us!  Who loves Moab?  We do!

Photo credit: Rob Corson

All in all, a fantastic trip down to Moab yet again.  It's a magical and wonderful place.  The race went completely without a hitch, our training was perfect for it, the weather could NOT have been better, the people were fantastic, the race organization exceeded my expectations, and I now know what to do next time in order to reach my goal: focus.  Yes, we will be going back for this one...I mean, c'mon, it's practically local for us now ;)  It's a great, tough, destination race for anyone looking for a short and sweet butt kicker, and in a great location.  Put it on your calendar.

Next up, Antelope Island 50 mile at the end of this month.  I don't yet have a specific time goal, mostly because I still haven't been to the island and I have no idea what to expect of the terrain, but I'll formulate something, most likely the night before the race :)

Paige, out.