Whirlywind

Whew!  It has been a whirlwind of life the last month!  I sure have missed my blog, and all'a you guys and gals who bother to check in :)

So, since we left off back in August I have...driven (i.e. been the passenger in a vehicle) to Iowa, Chicago, Iowa again, and then Colorado with Geof; slept in the back of our truck in a Wal-Mart parking lot; paced good friend Brian G. up and over Hope Pass at the Leadville 100; signed up for our next 100 mile run (we're heading back to Rio Del Lago 100 in California in November!!); started school (physical therapist assistant program); lost my brain, then found it again after surviving the first week; woops, lost said brain again the next day but luckily located it once again; organized my heart out; met our lab cadavers; run a WHOLE BUNCH, even done speed work more than once (what the WHAT?!); cut off 8 inches of hair; done some jumper photos; ran into a moose on the Great Western Trail, and eaten a lot of sardines.

That's a whole lotta stuff!

Basically, my excuse for the next 18 months is going to be...school :)  Bear with me, please.  I promise it will pay off in plenty of entertainment and write-y stuff!

Meantime, we are still chipping away at the mileage, gearing up for RDL100, where we are aiming to set a new 100 mile PR for both of us.  We'll be running together and have our sights set on 22h:30m :)  There, I put it out into the universe.  Done and done.  I like when people explicitly state their goals, so I am going to practice what I preach :)

It is September 2nd, holy cannoli!  Mmmm, cannolis :)  Wasatch 100 is next weekend and I plan on being envious of all the runners toeing the line whilst observing the fun from the trail.

Happy running!

Paige, out.

Speedgoat 50k: It Did, In Fact, Get Silly

Oh, Speedgoat 50k, how you woo me.  I went into you expecting silliness, and that is exactly what I got.  However, I didn't expect to fall in love with you.  And you have such good swag!

Most people I encountered that had run this one before usually described their experiences with multiple eye rolls, sounds of exasperation, and lots of 'once is enough'.  

I should have known.

It was awesome to be able to sleep in our own bed the night before a race, and only have a short drive to the start.  We arrived at Snowbird with plenty of time to futz around with our stuff, check in, get our swag, go back to the truck, futz around some more, and make it back to the Creekside pavilion in time to catch most of the pre-race meeting, and pee.  After having us all recite a few times "I will not cut the switchbacks" and "I will not go in the streams", Karl had us line up behind the start/finish arch and then sent us off into the damp and foggy morning.  

A little background on this before I forget.  It's gnarly.  This is officially the hardest race I've run...The Bear, ha!  Pocatello, truly laughable!  Zane Grey, yea, right (even though the heat there is pretty stupid).  This isn't a race you go to to PR, unless you are just looking to get a course PR.  Yes, Sage Canaday ran it in 5:06 (blows my mind), but non-human performances aside, the average finish time looks to be in the 9 hour range.  For 32 miles.  Let that sink in.  There's a lot of different thoughts around what the actual elevation gain is, but Geof and I both came in with 11,000 ft., give or take a few feet.  So that's 11,000 feet of climb, and then another 11,000 feet of descent.  In 32 miles.  I had nothing to compare this to going in, and now looking back, I still have nothing to compare it to.  Except that it is almost exactly 1/3 of the Hardrock 100.  Sick.  The entire course is a breeding ground for rocks of all shapes and sizes, but its specialty are ones the size of melons.  Others have described them as baby skulls, but that just sounds wrong (though, an accurate description).  What goes up must come down, and vice versa.  Always.  No flat, just up or down.  No easy, only effing stupid hard, hard, and a-little-less-hard.  No ugly, only beautiful.  No "I'll never do that again", only "Where do I sign up for 2014?"

Geof and I ran separate, which is a first for us, and was also totally weird.  But, it had it's benefit: we ran our own races.  So when we felt good, we went, and when we felt not-so-good, we eased up, and didn't feel guilty about holding the other up, or dragging them along.  It was a good experience.  But I still prefer to run with my dude :)

Checking in at the start...

Photo credit: The Ultrarunning Scene

The race started out with a nice 8.6 mile warm up, climbing from 7,600 ft. to 11,000 ft. Hidden Peak.  Geof took off a bit and I hung back and chatted briefly with Curtis T. from NUTR before making my move up.  The sea of 317 runners made its way along the switchbacking jeep road the first few miles before dumping out onto the glorious single track of the Ridge Trail which dropped us back down to near our starting elevation before the long looooooooong climb up to Hidden began in earnest.  I caught Geof on the climbs, and he dropped me on any descents on this section.  We would end up being within a few hundred yards of each other like this through mile 17 or so.  Once we hit the talus slope below the American Fork Twin Peaks, I passed Geof on the climb and wouldn't see him for a bit.  It was a grind up this section and a light drizzle began to fall.  I was determined to push hard up this last bit to Hidden Peak.

This was nearing the top of the ascent towards Hidden Peak at the beginning, and the start of the final descent to the finish.  It was like running on broken china plates...the size of melons.

Photo credit: The Ultrarunning Scene

I reached the top of Hidden Peak/mile 8.6 in 2h:13m on my watch.  I have no idea how that stacks up, but I felt pretty good with my time.  LEWIS! and Ada were at the top to greet me, and fellow Wasatch Mountain Wrangler, Zac M. grabbed my UA Cup and filled it with Coke (aka The Life Giver).  I topped off my bottle and then headed out of the aid station.  In-and-out, that's how I kept all my stops throughout the day.  No milling about, no sitting.  Grab and go.  I snagged my tiny rain shell from my drop bag here, as well as the rest of my gels just in case.  The race provided EFS Liquid Shot at all the aid stations, but that stuff makes my head fuzzy and bothers my stomach so I stay away from it.  

The final pitch up to Hidden Peak reduces most everyone to a hike.  It's a glute burner :)

Photo credit: Derrick Lytle Media

Picking my way down the other side of Hidden Peak

Photo credit: The Ultrarunning Scene

You can see the Salt Lake Valley in the background :)

Photo credit: The Ultrarunning Scene

After Hidden Peak 1, you hop onto the Mineral Basin Hiking Trail, and awesome single track trail that brings you down into the heart of Mineral Basin, through a couple of streams and into Larry's Hole AS.  I ran straight through Larry's Hole 1 since it was so soon after Hidden Peak and continued on to Sinner's Pass, another steep climb.  At some point here, Geof caught me again, and we went back and forth until we hit some of the worst terrain I have seen on a downhill section and he passed me handily. I don't know how long it lasted (too long) or what it's even called (I think maybe Mary Ellen?), but I was completely slowed to a very cautious walk.  It was just enough of a downhill angle that it was very easy to get a lot of momentum going and fast, so I was doing a lot of braking.  Picture a wide jeep road, flanked by high bushes and trees, and COVERED in melon-sized boulders.  The only respite from the melon rocks were the far sides, which were at an unholy angle and severe ankle busters.  It was easier to just go straight down the middle.  A mis-step here could mean a nasty ankle sprain at best, or a concussion, loss of teeth and broken bones at worst.  My heart rate skyrocketed!  Steve Pero caught up to me and I latched onto him and followed his expert steps through this section.  We dropped back down below 8,000 feet by the time we hit the dirt road towards Pacific Mine/mi 15.5, and once we did I ran it all the way into the aid station, catching Geof as he was leaving the AS.  More Coke, a water bottle top-off, and I was out of there.  Into and out of Pacific Mine is a short out and back, so you got to see runners both ways.  After hitting the turn-off from the road, we began the very long climb back up to Mineral Basin and to Larry's Hole 2.  Eventually as we made our way up, up, up the jeep road, I could see Geof up ahead.  I gradually caught him and I could see what I suspected: he wasn't feeling too hot.  He told me this would probably be the last time we'd see each other until the finish and to go make him proud.  I was feeling a little less than completely awesome and I contemplated just hanging back with him.  I also knew I was going to pull out of it shortly, once the caffeine kicked in.  I went back and forth in my head for quite a ways, even after kissing each other goodbye and continuing on.  After finally deciding to commit myself to finishing it out on my own terms, I tuned out the remainder of the climb back to Larry's Hole 2 with my trusty iPod Shuffle.

Did I mention this was a long climb?  It felt interminable!  The music helped and got me into a really good rhythm.  The weather was holding really well, and aside from a drizzle here and there, the day remained cloudy and cool with a slight breeze.  Perfect running weather.  Eventually I made it to the top of Sinner's Pass again and rode out the steep downhill back to Larry's Hole 2/mi 21 where I filled up my UA Cup with more Coke for the walk out, and topped off my water bottle.  In-n-out.

BTW, the volunteers at this little shindig are downright awesome.

After Larry's came the nice climb back up to the cat track just above the Basin, and below Alta.  I knew Mt. Baldy was on deck, but was still curious to see how we would be climbing it.  It was a grunt back up to the cat track, and then as we rounded the bend and glanced up, we were presented with our route up Baldy...straight up.  Not even a vague suggestion of a trail, just little blue flags to follow, straight up the south face of the mountain.  I wouldn't even know where to begin with a guess as to the percent grade of the route, but I'd guess close to 80%!  Our heels never even touched the ground and hands were necessary most of the way up, it was that steep.  The best strategy was to just keep moving, don't lose momentum.  Several guys in front of me were taking a beating and stopped to catch their breath every few steps, and I would have to wiggle around them.  I made pretty darn good time up this section and felt really happy to reach the top.

One step at a time, one section at a time.

I should mention here that the one thing I was having the most difficulty with was patience.  While I handled it fine, it was definitely a mind game.  Anticipating what's next, worrying about time/pace/any of that is a waste of energy.  I found that just taking it one step at a time was the only way to do it.  Not getting caught up in passing or getting passed, other people, terrain, climbs, my watch, not of that mattered.  And music on the long uphill grinds definitely helped :)  I had a goal in mind, but I wasn't going to lose my sh*# trying to reach it.  I was staying within my training and doing my best to race smart.  If that wasn't going to be enough, then so be it.  But I had a feeling it was going to work out just fine :)

After ascending Baldy at 11,068 ft., we descended the western ridge down to the saddle between Hidden and Baldy, then continued down the jeep road to the Tunnel AS/mi 23.6.  More Coke, more water in my bottle, and then I walked the tunnel as I downed my Coke.  It was cool to be walking through a mountain.  I'd never been in the tunnel before, so it was awesome to see it finally.  Lots of old photos documenting the history of the area and digging of the tunnel.  At the other end, we followed the flags down, down, down, knowing full well there was one final butt kicker of a climb back to Hidden Peak 2 at 11,000 ft. once we reached the Ridge Trail.  I was ready for it.  I ran the entire downhill to the Ridge Trail head and then plugged the music back in for the 1.5 mile/1,500 ft. climb up the north ridge to Hidden Peak.  Once we cleared the trees, it was cool to be able to see straight down on either side of the trail, into Peruvian Gulch and Gad Valley Gulch.  You could see runners way down in Peruvian making their way to the Ridge Trail, and runners up ahead nearing the top of the Peak.  Another grind, and lots of swapping places with others.  I was feeling really good.

And then suddenly we were on top of Hidden Peak again!  Pete S. was there to help refill my bottle and get me Coke, and then I was outta there.  "Just follow the ribbons back down to Gad, unless you want to climb Twin Peaks," "I think I'll pass on that today!"

With just 5ish miles, and a 3,500 ft drop, I could smell the finish.  Two runners I was near most of the day left the station after me, but soon caught me on the nasty descent of the talus field (pictured above). Dave left us in the dust, and Sadie and I traded spots a few more times.  It was just the two of us, and then I passed her when she stopped to take some salt.  I knew it wasn't for long, though :)  Back on the jeep road, I was completely alone and wondering if I had gotten off route.  Lots of blue ribbons still, but were they from earlier, when we ascended this part at the beginning?  Hmmmm.  I slowed and spun to see if anyone was behind me; no one.  Well, this makes the most sense, and there are ribbons.  When the route hopped back onto single track trail, Sadie appeared out of nowhere and passed me by.  Phew, I'm going the right way :)  I latched onto her pace and we were just screaming down the final few miles of single track.  Holy smokes, I was riding the line between control and absolute mayhem that entire way!  I kept thinking, please don't fall, please don't fall! and somehow I managed to remain upright.  I completely unleashed and was blowing my own mind.  I kept visualizing my feet moving like I was pedaling, leaning forward into the downhill.

It was exhilarating!  Geof would have been so proud to see me running downhill like that :)

Sadie was maybe 20 feet in front of me, and we could hear the finish, and see it, as we switched back and forth on the trail, getting closer and closer, and then finally, we were there!  I eased up a touch, glanced at my watch and nearly kissed the couple walking past just out for a stroll.  I was going to make it under 8:30!  Down the last bit of jeep road, round the corner, and ahhhhhhh the finish line arch!

Done and done.  8:27:48, 24th lady in a very talented field of women.  We got a sweet little finisher's medal and a pint glass with the elevation profile on it.  I also won a pair of Ryder's Eyewear sunglasses, booya!  And, to top it all off, I beat Ultra SignUp's prediction of 8:36...that's what I was really aiming for :)

As soon as I finished, I walked to the truck to change and then walked back down to wait for Geof to come in.  Pizza and PBR helped lubricate the mild discomfort in my legs while I waited :)

Geof's final kick into the finish, just as the rain began in earnest!

Geof finished in good spirits, but he described a less than stellar day.  Just an off day, with a weird patch in the middle, but he held on and finished.  I was so proud of him, and so excited to see him running it in!  Even though it wasn't the race he was hoping for, he still kept at it when many would have pulled the plug.  That's my man!

Looking back, this was one heck of an experience for me.  I'm super pumped with how it played out, and happy with how I ran.  I ran smart, hiked strong, kept it moving, and allowed myself to enjoy each moment for what it was.  I didn't get too wrapped up in how long it was taking, or how hard any one section was.  It was what it was, and I liked it.  I loved cresting Hidden Peak and being greeted by tons (by ultra measures) of people, I loved all the wildflowers, I loved the climbs, I loved the descents, I loved the views, and I loved all the volunteers.  I did not love that one rocky jeep road heading to Pacific Mine.  That road sucks silly a$$.  But one thing out of the whole day?  No biggie :)

I will definitely be back, and now I know what to work on in order to grab a sub-8 next time ;)  I went into this race with no training runs longer than 12 miles (Pocatello 50M being the longest run, two months earlier!), but with plenty of high mountain running and strong hiking, and my legs and body held up amazingly well.  For the most part I think the lack of long runs and focus on shorter runs up high in the mountains were a big benefit.  We partook in active recovery the week following and had some of the fastest running we've had all season.  I feel great!

It was a good experiment, running our own races.  I got to see what I have in me, and I was not disappointed with the outcome.   

That was our last registered race for the year, so now we need to start looking for a couple more before the ski season begins.  School starts in just a couple of weeks, so until then just a whole bunch'a running and funning!

Paige, out.

Pre-Speedgoat 50k...It's Gonna Get Silly

Running down the east ridge of Mt. Baldy last weekend, scoping the Speedgoat course

Well I hope I feel as good as I did in this photo, tomorrow :)  This will be our very first Speedgoat 50k+ and I'm as ready as I'm going to be.  Which isn't to say that I'm ready at all, but you know what I mean ;)  It shall be a very delicious challenge and I'm ready to take it on.  The race boasts over 11,000 ft of gain in about 32-34 miles.  That's a s---ton of gain for that short of a distance.  Whatever, bring it.

UltraSignUp has suggested a finish time of 8h:36m for me.  As usual, I plan to beat that by a fair amount, I'm just not sure by how much exactly :)  

I am, however, sure that it's gonna get silly.  This will be the first race that Geof and I will be running simultaneously, but separately.  I think we are going to be pleasantly surprised with ourselves, and are going to have a really fun day out there on the trails.  

In any event, I'm looking forward to being in the race environment as a runner again.  It's been too long (i.e. almost a full TWO months since Pocatello).  We haven't done any f'real long runs recently, but we have done a LOT of time-on-our-feet runs with a lot of climbing and descending.  So that should be pretty helpful come tomorrow.  

A good old fashioned backyard race...packed with a silly amount of national and international talent.  I will be but a very small fish in an extremely large pond.  I love this sport :)

Paige, out.

Hardrockin' Out: A Hardrock 100 Pacer Report

It's not often that someone else's experience gets me the way a very personal experience would.  But this year's Hardrock 100 pacing/crewing gig got me.  

We drove out to Silverton, CO early Wednesday morning and met up with our runner, Brad K. of New Jersey, and embarked on what would end up being one heck of journey.  I met Brad at the 2009 North Face Endurance Challenge 50M in Wisconsin, and we've been in touch since.  When we saw his name on the entrants list, Geof and I excitedly offered to help him out at the race.  Usually a solo runner, and having never used a crew or pacer before, he actually accepted the offer!

Brad finished the clockwise running of the 2012 Hardrock Hundred (HRH) and was lucky enough to make it through the lottery again this year for a counter-clockwise running of the HRH.  "They" say you're not a "real" Hardrocker until you've run it both directions.  

New goal: Not just a finish, but make sure Brad becomes a real Hardrocker.  And keep our perfect HRH crew/pace record intact ;)

I get a little sniffly and my eyes a little misty recalling it all.  Brad went through A LOT OF CRAP to earn his finish this year.  And, as frustrating as things were at points, and as sleep-, coffee-, food-, and shower-deprived, as trembly as my quads were from all the squatting/not wanting to actually make contact with any of the gazillion port-o-johns I inhabited (hellllloooooo, I was drinking SO MUCH WATER), as achey as I was from our very long walk...I have nothing but rosy remembrances of the whole experience.  

Isn't it funny how the mind works?  

So anyway, after two delicious meals at Stellar Bakery and Pizzeria, a couple of shakeout runs, and a lot of nervous energy from our runner, we left the Wyman Hotel behind Friday morning for a full 48 hours and made our way to the gym and the start of the 2013 Hardrock Hundred Endurance Run.  

I love seeing all the ripped legs, leathery skin, badass granny nannies and old goats, and seeing all the "celebrity" fasties milling about with the rest of us mere mortals.  I freaking LOVE this place.

Everyone huddled together behind the start line and after a singing of the National Anthem, the runners were off into the foggy morning.  Then we headed to Cunningham Gulch/Mi 9 to peep the front runners and start our crewing gig.

Brad is the one in blue...the only one in full focus.  Not sure how I pulled that off :)

Brad came into Cunningham in great spirits and excited to see us.  We did a quick pack swap and he was off.  Our next stop would be Sherman/Mi 27ish, but we had told Brad we wouldn't be there since it required a two hour haul up and over Cinnamon Pass and we weren't sure we'd have time.  Brad was insanely prepared and had drop bags at every crewed aid station just in case we were unable to make it to a station.  

Turns out we had plenty of time.  And, turns out Geof is an ultra groupie.  But so am I, I just try to hide it ;)  So, we made the extremely sllllloooooowwwwww drive up the stupidly gnarly and unsafe-at-best Jeep road over Cinnamon Pass (which was so beautiful!) and then down the other side and into Sherman Townsite.  We caught glimpses of the front folks before I opted to crash in the back of the truck.  I would be pacing beginning at the next aid station, Grouse Gulch/Mi 42, and we wouldn't have an opportunity to get back to the hotel for me to rest.  After an almost 2-hour nap, I went back to check on the shenanigans up the road and collect a few more mosquito bites (because I didn't have enough yet).  Brad rolled in eventually, still in good spirits and quite surprised to see us there, and we made quick business of getting him in and out of there.  The next section involved summiting the high point of the race, Handies Peak (at just a hair over 14,000 ft.), and then a nice long downhill into Grouse Gulch.  

Apparently, it was also to involve a lightening and hail storm, torrential downpour, a "slight" detour to the tune of about nine miles off course, an additional allotment of climbing (enough to equal another summit of Handies), running for your life, and blowing minds in the process.  Well, at least that was Brad's experience.

I mean seriously, if I went off course for nine miles in the San Juans and rolled in HOURS behind schedule, and went through the mental mind-f*** of thinking I might die by lightening, I would be a basket case, and probably would be found days later in the fetal position on the side of some stream, talking in clicks.  Not Brad.  He rolled into Grouse around 10:30 p.m. and could NOT have handled the whole situation any better.  Geof and I had been at Grouse for close to four hours, me sleeping in the truck and Geof standing out in the rain/cold the entire time, and had devised the script we would need to use for when Brad arrived.  We assumed he would be trying to pull the plug and that we'd need to set him straight.  Not so.

"That's him!  Thatshimthatshimthatshim!!!"  I shouted from the fog of our truck.  He ran into the aid station full of adrenaline and good spirit.

Ready to tackle Engineer Pass and the Bear Creek Trail

I had no idea what was in store for me, but I knew I was pacing 14.5 miles, from Grouse Gulch to Ouray, and that it involved a nice climb up to Engineer Pass, and then a nice descent of the rather...treacherous...Bear Creek Trail.  I recalled parts of the BCT from a pre-race hike with Gretchen last year.  I'm just thankful we were covering it in the dark...so that I couldn't see exactly how far one could fall if they slipped off the narrow single track trail gouged out of the side of the mountain.  

Brad was hurting.  The adrenaline rush he had from going off course, recovering, then running for his life, wore off and left him completely spent, emotionally and physically.  We walked the entire way up the Jeep road to Engineer Pass.  Stomach issues were starting to plague him, and we needed to stop every so often to let a wave pass.  We moved in silence most of the way up, only the rhythmic click-click-clicking of our trekking poles breaking the quiet.  A very dense fog settled in after a couple of hours, making it difficult to see, which was slightly alarming seeing as we were switchbacking up a mountain.  I kept to the outside and made sure Brad was safe against the mountainside.  He was swerving and quite tired.  Holding my headlamp in my hand, closer to the ground, allowed us to see better in the fog (thanks for that tidbit, Robert Andrulis!).  

But before we cleared the fog, Brad embarked on: Mission: Vomitus Muchis.  

I mean, bravo good sir, you puked like a champ!  The stomach issues were really putting a damper on things for him, so he asked me if I thought puking would help.  Of course it would.  BUT, he would have to be willing to refuel shortly after clearing his system.  He contemplated this for a little while, almost trying to bargain with me.  He wasn't in the right headspace so I was really glad to be with him through all of this.  These situations are why it is really good to have pacers/crew at these events; people who can help you make sound decisions.  After some time passed he decided he was ready.  I walked ahead, turned off my headlamp, and waited.  Way to go Brad!!  As soon as he finished emptying the entire contents of his body onto the side of the mountain, the first words out of his mouth were, "I really wish I'd given you my camera for that."  Oh, how I love this sport, and everyone in it :)  He felt better instantly.  

Once we made it to the Pass, we ran the rest of the way into the aid station.  It was a great downhill section, and I have no idea how long it was, but probably 20 minutes.  It felt great to change it up.  A change of batteries, some Tums and Ginger for Brad, observing the comatose body under the tent, and taking off a layer (it was warmer on that side of the mountain), we hit the Bear Creek Trail.  Honestly, I don't know how people don't die during this race, or at least seriously maim themselves.  Bear Creek starts out cute and sweet, running through fields of wildflowers, through streams, across waterfalls, and then slowly begins to morph into this thin strip of beautiful hell.  In sections, it is just carved out of the side of the mountain and in the dark night all you can hear is the roaring of the very active river below you, your heart beat in your ears, and your mind screaming THIS IS SO NOT SAFE, YOUR MOM WOULD DIE IF SHE SAW THIS!  Thank goodness for trekking poles.  And thank goodness for worrying about someone else so that I didn't have time to fear for my life every time we had to scramble through sketch to continue on.  We kept our headlamps on the trail only, and tried not to think about what we were doing.  Brad caught me once turning my headlamp off-trail, glancing below.  "I saw that!  Don't look over the side!" :)  It was comforting sharing the trail with him.  He stayed in front and would navigate a dry line across streams, a safe route over boulders, and then shine his lamp for me so that I had extra light to get through the sketchy sections.  He kept asking if I was okay.  What a gentleman :)  

After 13 switchbacks (everyone else swears it is 12, but I have now thrice counted 13...) we crossed over Hwy 550 and descended the Ice Park Trail and the confusion that is the final few miles into Ouray.  

I was pooped.  Those 14.5 miles took us just shy of 7 hours to cover.  My glutes were sore.  And after a 15 minute nap for Brad, learning that runners who leave Ouray after 5:30 a.m. (it was 5:32 when we arrived) had a 1% chance of finishing under 48 hours, "You ARE the 1%, Brad!", and convincing him that going back out was the only option, Geof and Brad strode into the sunrise.  

Be the 1%, Brad, be the 1%.

Fast forward to Telluride.  

I slept for two hours in the back of the truck, grabbed a coffee and bagel up the street, then camped out at the Telluride aid station.  Around 2:30 p.m., the guys arrived.  And Brad was looking like he was going to need some more convincing.  I went about our usual motions, while he called a friend and his wife, Wendy.

At Telluride/Mi 72

A shoe change, a pack swap, a couple of pep talks later, we got him out of the chair.  The next 10 miles, from Telluride to Chapman Gulch/Mi 82, he would be on his own.  We were both spent and didn't think it would be prudent to head out with him.  I felt drunk I was so tired, and Geof was even more sleep deprived than I was.  

Be the 1%, Brad, be the 1%.

The look on his face says it all.  He could not have been happy with us at this point...but he was a trooper, "What else am I going to do?"  Exactly.

I felt a little choked up watching him walk out of the aid station.  I felt bad that we had to push so hard to get him out, but at the same time that was our job.  And he's been through this before.  He knew that he'd regret not going back out, and I was super proud of him for continuing on despite it all.

Be the 1%.

We decided that for our own sanity that that would be the last time we'd convince him to go back out.  From here on out, he would have to really want it.  There was only one more crew accessible aid station, at Chapman, and we would let him drop there if he wanted to.  We just didn't have it in us after Telluride.  

Man, I was really, really hoping he'd pull through.

At Chapman Gulch, all the mosquitos that got kicked out of the rest of the state of Colorado for illegal doping were gathered for their annual meeting.  And they were all hopped up!  It was too hot to hide out in the truck, and it was too 'squito-y to spend too much time outside.  So we were back and forth between sitting in the hot truck and standing outside with a small group of other crew/pacer-types staring at an empty road willing our runners to materialize.  The clock was getting uncomfortably close to the cut-off time (9:00 p.m.) and we weren't feeling all that optimistic.  But when Brad showed up practically skipping down the road we were on cloud 9!  I don't know what changed, and it doesn't matter; that's what is so amazing about these events.  Give it a little time and it will get better.  Geof got geared up to head back out with Brad for the final 18 miles, and I was both sad and excited to see them go.  He was going to do this, but not without a little work.  It was 8:30 when they left the aid station; a little too close for comfort.

Be the 1%.

Lube Express

Brad heading down to the Chapman AS with Grant Swamp Pass off in the distance (their next destination)

Photo: Geof Dunmore

Photo: Geof Dunmore

I now had an hour and half drive, in the dark, back to Silverton.  By the time I reached Ouray, I could barely keep my eyes open and there was some serious rain and lightening happening on Red Mountain Pass up ahead, so I pulled into the Hot Springs parking lot and slept so hard and so fast that I don't even remember falling asleep.  Around 11:30 p.m. I awoke suddenly, momentarily forgetting where I was (which was disconcerting since I don't remember ever really experiencing that sensation before).  Remembering how scary the Pass was to drive in the middle of the night, alone, last year, I wasn't looking forward to the final drive to Silverton.  But, I survived.  I didn't break 20 mph, and drove straight down the middle of the road the whole way up and over the Pass.  I'm not kidding.  Luckily, I missed all the rain, and traffic, so I was the sole vehicle on the road.  

I took the best shower of my life, straightened up the truck and the hotel room, checked my O2 saturation out of curiosity (who doesn't do that?) and slept soundly for three hours.  Bliss.

I checked the tracking website and saw that they guys had reached Putnam around 3:15 a.m., so that meant maybe another couple of hours before they arrived in Silverton.  And I was spot on.  I walked down to the gym, and stood in the dirt road, staring into outer space, "Please make it, please make it.  Please let them be safe."  I was suddenly worried, then so happy I wanted to scream happy things, then sad because it was all almost over.  And I was just the crew.  I can only imagine what Brad was feeling.  

Suddenly two headlamps rounded a corner and broke through the thick black of night.  I just knew by the rhythm that it was Geof and Brad.  I WAS SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!  I'm getting goose bumps recalling all of this.  Radical Face's "Welcome Home" was playing in my head as the music video in my mind played out before my eyes.  I think it was even in slow mo and there were definitely heavenly apparitions and flowers and puppies.  I snapped pictures with my phone as I whooped and hollered, following behind them.  

"HEDIDITHEDIDITHEDIDIT!  Oh my God, he went through so much to get here; I can't believe it, and I can totally believe it!"  And we got to be a part of it.

Yes, Brad, get comfortable with it; you ARE the 1%.  Ouray volunteer trying to bring our runner down?  Suck it!  But also thank you for being there; thank you a million times.  You rock, volunteer, except for the 1% comment :)

Holy crap.  That was a lot.  I commend you if you've stuck around this long and read to this point.  Thank you :) 

What an experience!!  And what a great reminder that life is what you make it.  You think it sucks, but seriously, shut up and get over it.  Around the next bend is the most amazing experience.  To quote what I posted on Facebook after it was all said and done (because I just can't sum it up better than how I did in the moment): Hundred mile runs (especially the rough experiences) are such a metaphor for life: s**t gets real, it gets hard, it hurts, it makes you cry and then smile in the same moment...but you never give up, because that's not an option. You don't check out when plans fall through; you reassess, regroup, put your head down, and keep moving forward. Saw a lot of life being lived out there this weekend. Congratulations Hardrockers, and well done Brad. Proud of you!  You're a real Hardrocker now, Brad!

And that's all I've got to say about that.

Oh, and I'm totally throwing my name in for 2014.  It completely terrifies me, but it's a challenge I want to take on.  It will likely take a few years for me to make it through the lottery, but I gotta try.  Brad and Gretchen have both inspired me :)

Can't wait to go back next year, even if it's just to watch from the sidelines.

Paige, out.

2013 Bike MS: Harmon's Best Dam Bike Ride - 100 Mile Ride

We did it!  My first century ride (and maybe eighth or ninth for Geof) is now in the books.

Survey says?

THAT WAS FUN!

Since this here is a running blog, I'll keep it short.  But f'real, it was serious fun.  Our longest training ride to date was a 20 miler over a month ago, and I at least was riding to/from work for a few weeks (12 miles roundtrip), but Geof wasn't riding at all.  This was old hat for him, though.  I don't think he was too concerned ;)  So we weren't sure what to expect from the ride.  But we did expect to finish, because that is what we set out to do.  It was all new terrain for me, and I loved it.

At the start...we had 40 minutes to kill, waiting for all the waves ahead of us to go (3,000+ riders!)

Yeah, Team Wells Fargo! :)

Some lessons/thoughts on the day:

Chamois Cream

"You want me to put that stuff...where?"  "Just squirt it all over your shorts."  Ummmmmm, what?  Talk about feeling like you've had a Serious Case of the Runs in your bike shorts...  And thank goodness!  I've never used the stuff, but boy am I glad to have had it!  Thanks to lube, I have zero saddle sores or anything of the like.  I was having mid-ride terrors imagining what those look like.  So I did something right :)

Drinking on the Ride

Not happening.  I could get the bottle out of the rack and take a sip, but I could not get it back into the rack.  I had to stop in order to do so.  Thus, I waited to drink until we reached aid stations (~10-12 miles apart) :)  New goal: learn to drink on the ride successfully.

Downhill Riding

Like a boss.  It meant I could stand on my pedals and give my arse a break.

Uphill Riding

Like a boss...eventually.  Took me a few hills to find a strategy that worked best for me.

Spandex

It's just not for everyone.  Someone forgot to mention that to about 75% of the field yesterday.  But gotta love 'em for not caring! ;)

Farm Irrigation

Thank you farmers of Southern Idaho and Northern Utah!  Your sprinklers were awesomely refreshing!

RecoFit ArmCoolers

Thank you for existing RecoFit.  I wore the ArmCoolers the entire day and never felt hot or uncomfortable in them (temps reached the upper 90s).  Nor did I need to worry about sunburn or sunscreen on my arms.  Woot!

This is pretty much what the day looked like for us...mountains, country roads, rolling farmland, cloud cover.  It was fantastic.

Free slushies for finishers!

A major THANK YOU to everyone who donated on my behalf!  You all are amazing individuals and I appreciate your donations very, very much.  The National MS Society thanks you as well!  I thought of each of you during the ride yesterday :)  And I thought about how much easier it was to ride 100 miles than to live with MS, that I had no excuse to complain about anything.  And I thought about Ian's mom, my mom's old friend, Lauri, Martha's brother, and a couple patients I work with, among others.

This was a great, well organized event, and I felt very safe and cared for out there.  I will certainly do another century ride.  It is a totally fun and challenging change of pace for this here ultrarunner...and I sure do love seeing my husband in bike shorts, oooolala!!

Paige, out.

The Hokey Pokey: A Pocatello 50 Race Report

Oh good lord, we had a fabulous weekend.  The Pocatello 50 Mile has two new lovers: The Git 'er Dunmores (I can't take credit for that one, Vishal S. gave us that awhile back :)).

How can we sum up the Pokey 50?  Beautiful, tough, steep, gorgeous, tough, amazing, beautiful, hip-flexor-killing, calf-screaming, gorgeous, and top-notch.  Did I happen to mention it is beautiful?

An artistic rendering of the course via the race website

Geof and I opted to stay in town at a hotel the night before since we're big fans of sleep the night before a race, and we were pooped from a busy week.  We made it to the pre-race meeting 10 minutes late but in plenty of time to get the scoop on the course as RD Luke Nelson described it section-by-section after the meeting.  Very helpful stuff.  I was sufficiently anxious afterward.  Bushwhacking?  Running up a stream bed?  Glissading down from the highest point on the course?  Hot?  Stairmaster steep climbs?  I was having flashbacks to Zane Grey 2012 :)  

Bring it.

We managed to arrive at about 5:45 race morning (which is when we needed to be checked in by) but the parking lot was full, so we were directed to park further down the road.  We parked at the first lot we came upon, and then began walking back towards the start area 1/4 mile back when a shuttle bus pulled up, whew :)  Pulling into the start area we had maybe 3 minutes left so we checked in, pinned on our bibs, wished good luck to the LEWIS!es, and took our place in the clump of 105 shivering 50 milers; it was somewhere in the upper 30s at the start, brrrrr.  With little fanfare we were off!  

My hands were numb, it was so cold!  The running felt good and very easy as we made our way up the road to the trailhead.  The climb up Gibson Jack was welcome and needed in order to warm up.  We picked our way up through the train once on the single track and settled into a good rhythm.  No need for headlamps as the sun was out by 5:30 a.m.  As it reached its warming rays into the canyon we were climbing out of I began to get the feeling back in my hands, and my heart was swelling as I took in all the beauty surrounding me.  Idaho is beautiful!  And rugged!

Top o' the morning!  Heading up the first climb after leaving Mink Creek Rd./Start

Photo Credit: Mary McAleese

Eventually the climb ended and we ran through a narrow path cut into a mountain side bursting with the happy yellow petals of arrow leaf balsam root.  It was rolling and perfect: wild flowers all up in our grill on the left, and the wide expanse of the Bannock and Pocatello mountain ranges stretching out forever to the right.  The sky was so insanely blue it looked Photoshopped, even at six in the morning.  

What goes up must come down.  Including a Dunmore.

Before we reached the first mile, I bit it.  I don't know what I tripped on, but I went down fairly soft, thankfully, but then began to tip backward down the steep slope when Geof ran up and grabbed my arm to lift me up.  That got my heart racing!  I promised myself that would be the only time I did that, and I held to that promise :)

We hadn't yet encountered any mud, and Geof mentioned I had a new spot on the back of my left calf upon leaving the 8.3 mile AS. I stopped to inspect, and as I tried to flick it off and couldn't get it to budge, I thought, "tick."  I got it off finally, including some skin and inspected the area to make sure I got all I could see and it appeared fine.  I told Geof to remind me of this in case I started acting goofy in the next couple of weeks :)  Still not sure what it was, but I'm fairly certain it was a tick.  That's a first for me.

How about a few things about this race that really rocked?  First, organization.  One of the most organized races I've done to date (Javelina Jundred being the best I've ever experienced)...no rock was left unturned, no need was left unmet, no hope was left wanting.  So, huge thank you to Luke Nelson and Jared Campbell for their amazing efforts, and to the fricking awesome volunteers who were always on top of their game and knew what I wanted before I even knew.  Thank you, thank you!  Also, P50 went cupless and gu-packet-less this year and gave each runner one of those snazzy UltrAspire cups to use at aid stations, as well as our own gel flask to refill at aid stations with the race-provided First Endurance EFS gel.  I hadn't ever used EFS before but I was willing to give it a try.  Just in case, I packed 8 Gu gels in my pack, though.  I'm glad I did.  I used the Kona Mocha flavor EFS for the first 5 hours and decided to bag it after my diaphragm felt like it was on the verge of cramping pretty much that entire time, and my head got really fuzzy.  I love, love, love the flask idea, though.  Next time, I'll just pack my own flasks with Gu in them...I'm a Gu girl; it's what works for me right now.  The race also opted to hand out P50 Buffs this year, rather than t-shirts.  You could purchase a shirt if you wanted one (and they looked really good, so I sort of wish we got those instead :)).  The Buffs are great, though; what distance runner couldn't use a nice Buff?  

Back to the race...Geof was moving really well the first half of the race, and it was all I could do to hold on.  He would push up ahead thinking I was right on his tail when in fact I was holding on for dear life way out of sight :)  Once I figured out the EFS was most likely my issue, and switched to Gu and began chugging Coke at each aid station, I came back to life.  I was powering the climbs, but sucking it up on the flats and downs for the first bit, but knew it was only a matter of time before life would return to my head and lungs and I'd be back in fine form.  

But first, we bushwhacked.  

The climb up Slate Mountain is a b***h of a climb to 6,980 ft.  Almost 2,400 ft of gain in a couple of miles, and without a trail to follow.  I'm glad it was still cold because that heavily exposed slope would be snake heaven in the heat of the day!  We picked our way through cacti, small boulders, wildflowers, scrub, and all sorts of scratchy stuff at an epically slow pace.  It looked and felt as though we were all moving in slow motion.  My heartbeat was in my ears and my hip flexors began to burn for the first time ever.  It was steep, but certainly not the steepest climb of the day by any means.  That was still to come.  We reached the saddle of Slate and picked our way across a precarious ridge of boulders and pointy things with a steep drop on either side of us.  At 11.4 miles in, we reached the top of the first major climb of the day and now it was time to run all of that and then some back down into City Creek AS.  Now my quads were screaming as we descended the steep and rocky jeep trail.    

I was feeling off still as I had yet to figure out I needed to stop using EFS, but as I popped my first salt tab of the day, Mark Heaphy and another guy ran past me and I jumped at the chance to hang onto a legend.  Suddenly I had life again and we were movin'!  Geof was a little ways ahead and when he turned to look and see what all the commotion was (we were making a racket, dust flying everywhere), he moved aside and then jumped in behind me.  Mark led our little train the remaining couple of miles down into City Creek, where I proceeded to pound my first UltrAspire cup of Coke, and then another.  I also filled my hydration pack again, just in case.  I never did run short on water, but we were warned heavily to leave every aid station with more water than we thought we'd need.  So I did :)

 Following Mark Heaphy's lead...navigating the steep and rocky descent into City Creek AS at mile 16.9

Photo Credit: Mary McAleese

The next section was going to involve a few miles and 2,500 feet of gain, with the final 1,400 feet in less than a mile, to the top of Kingport Peak (7,222 ft).  The first little bit is an awesome singletrack trail that runs through beautiful shaded and green forest with the creek running alongside the trail.  Rolling and very friendly, and then suddenly it's not so friendly.  Hiking up a gnarly stream bed (not flowing, by the way, just wet in some sections but easily avoided or hopped over) strewn with huge rocks and small boulders.  Tricky footing, but not horrible, just fun :)  The whole time you're climbing, but it's nothing to write home about.  

Until it is.  

The last .8 or so miles is ridiculous, and I can't imagine climbing up this section in a snowy/wet year!  How can I describe this part?  I was using my hands much of the way up the final pitch, and leaning so far over that I could see between my knees at one point.  Momentum was the only way up, and stopping to catch your breath was not an option.  Except for one chick who did just that right in front of Geof, and suddenly.  Picking our way around her proved sketchy at best.  Falling backwards would mean not stopping until you hit a large object at the bottom, a very long way down.  Nearing the top, my heartbeat once again in my ears, wheezing, and feeling like the life had been sucked out of me, we heard the most comforting race sound of all: the cowbell.  "Get moving!  This isn't the Air Force, this is an ultra!"

Oh sweet, humanus spectatorus!  

A little downhill, a little more climb, and then some fantastic downhill back into Mink Creek at mile 32.5.  This aid station was awesome!  Tie dye, bumpin' music, great volunteers, and our truck!  The spot we parked in turned out to be the parking lot of this particular aid station.  If we had known that we would have planned to use it somehow, but, alas, it was merely a nice surprise and we didn't need anything from it so we just refilled packs, reapplied sunscreen and kept moving.  The final section of the course would put us atop the highest point in the race, Scout Mountain, at 8,710 ft. and would involve 3,500 ft of gain in ~4.5 miles.  Not bad, just relentless.  

We began walking the initial incline through the box canyon that was supposed to be really hot, windless and exposed, by all accounts overheard, but on this day it was quite delightful.  Turns out, this is the best weather the race has ever had.  Booya.  A nice cool breeze was blowing and trees were providing excellent shade at spots along the initial ascent.  It was quite tolerable and lovely, but enough of a pitch to keep us somewhat conservative types from pushing too much at that point.  Eventually, the climb began to feel interminable.  Since I was feeling really good by now, I decided to push a little.  I eased into a trot and Geof followed suit.  "Run to the next big shady spot," "Run to the next set of ribbons," "Run to that rotten log," "Run to blue leg sleeve guy," and so on.  It worked pretty good, and soon enough we were running longer and longer portions.

Then the altitude, of all things, began to settle in a touch.  I was feeling a bit light headed, but it was nothing a little caffeine couldn't fix.  As we climbed higher and higher it got prettier and prettier, rockier, more shaded, then less shaded, from warm to cool.  At the South Scout AS, mile 38, we were greeted by the most knowledgable volunteers I have ever encountered, and for a backcountry aid station that had to be hiked in 2 miles, they had everything you could have wanted at that point.  Impressive.  I drank two cups of Coke, refilled my water again, and then we inched our way up the remaining portion of Scout.  The trail became a wide jeep track fully exposed and climbing at a decent pitch.  The footing was pretty rocky, but since we were walking at this point it didn't matter.  We were treated to an excellent view of the Bannock range once again, and began to see patches of snow as we climbed.  There had been mention of glissading from the top and I was working to minimize my anxiety around such a thing.  Reaching the saddle of the climb, there was an enormous snow bank to hike through, and as I weighed my options (stay on my feet and risk slipping off the side of the mountain, or slide on my ass to the other side of the bank) I sat down and scooted my way down the other side.  That was fun!!  Nothing major, but certainly nothing I'd ever done before.  A good test glissade :)  Of course, in my mind, we were going to have to slide a mile down the face of a steep mountain on our butts and self-arrest with nothing more than our bare hands and maybe an elbow.  Needless to say, this was a silly assumption :)  The final climb to the top of the peak was a nice rolling run along the ridge.  Then began the glorious 4.5 mile descent.  

The north side descent of Scout was awesome single track with some snow on either side of us, which gave you the option of glissading, but we opted to run the trail instead.  It was steep at first, but nothing we couldn't handle.  As the trail dipped back down below tree line we had one last snowbank to negotiate, and I didn't hesitate to drop to my butt and slide down it.  Stopping meant dunking our feet into a muddy, mucky mess, but boy was that fun!!  Gives you an appreciation for what Jared does, on his feet, at 5:53 into THIS.  Yeaaaaa.

After descending along some of the most beautiful forested single track I have ever had the pleasure of running (are you sensing a theme of beauty here?), we made it into Karl Meltzer's Big Fur AS at mile 47.1.  With less than 5 miles to go (oh yea, this is a 53 mile race :)), I was sensing the blinders coming on and smelling the barn.  One last water refill and another cup of Coke and we were good to go.  The next mile was run on road, but it was actually quite welcome at that point as the final few miles would be run along rutted and overgrown nordic trails.  A final 700 foot climb and then subsequent descent back down to Mink Creek, and a 1/4 mile jaunt on the road.  Once we finished the descent I asked what our time was...my Garmin had died at mile 47.  Geof announced 12:27.  "We're finishing under 13 hours!" I exclaimed.  And the pedal was put to the metal.  UltraSignUp had projected a 12:55 finish for me and there was no way I was going to let them be right :)  We cranked it up a notch, hit the final road section, rounded the corner to the campground, and crossed the line in 12h:36m:13s, alongside blue leg sleeve guy.

Holy crap, that was rewarding!!!  Tenth woman, and right smack in the middle of finishers.  I'll take it.  There were 105 starters, but just 86 finishers.  The conditions were the epitome of perfection, the organization was top notch, and the day was just what I was hoping for.  And I got to prove UltraSignUp wrong yet again ;)

Geof and I absolutely loved this race and we were talking about running it again before we even finished.  Next year's race is on June 7 and I'm guessing we'll be there :)

Full results HERE.  They also host a simultaneous 50k and 20 mile run, so if you're not up for the full 50 just yet, there are other options :)  Post race they had a huge buffet of delicious eats including chili, soups, baked potatoes, a quesadilla bar, desserts and drinks.  We chowed some chili before heading out to seek out a warm hotel room and a hot shower.  Camping is available all weekend, but we were ready for creature comforts after a long day in the woods :)

Make sure to stop by Snake River Coffee at some point while you're in Pocatello...awesome, awesome coffee! 

Thanks to our RecoFit Full-Leg Compression Sleeves, our legs are feeling pretty darn good today, and thanks to my RecoFit ArmCoolers I avoided sunburn and kept comfortable all day long.  Those arm sleeves are a godsend in long races...kept me warm during the chilly start, and cool during the heat of the day.

Upon reflection, this race has me curious.  I feel like I finished with much still in the tank...like I could have left a lot more out on that course.  I can do better :)  I enjoy these mountain races as they really put you to the test.  I don't get caught up in placement or times (until close to the end ;)) and am simply out there to test my endurance and my grit.  PRs aren't in question yet as I'm still new to mountain running and am building up my resume. I'm testing the waters and seeing what I'm capable of.  As I get more and more comfortable with all of this I'll also get more comfortable pushing it more and more...and I'm terribly excited to see what I can do.  Man, I love running.  And the mountains.  And running with my man.

Next up, Speedgoat 50k.  And I look to prove UltraSignUp extremely wrong :-)

Paige, out.