It
started with my husband, Erick reading Dean Karnazes’s book, “Ultra
Marathon Man.” He passed it on to me and said, “We should
do one of these!” I laughed at first and before I knew it we
were signing up to run the North Country 50 miler. We had both
done some marathons at this point, so how hard could it be?
Training began and a few months later, he injured his back at work
and it was not possible for him to continue his training. I
pressed on but come race day, I was ill prepared for the hills, heat
and humidity. I fell countless times and wound up dropping out
at the 35 mile mark. He decided to do the hard trail marathon
anyway, untrained and did manage to finish. I felt a failure.
I signed on to do the Run Woodstock 50 miler in September 2010.
I wanted a little redemption. The race went exceptionally well
and I finished in 13:01. I even took third in my age group.
Granted there was only 3 in my age group that finished, but I’m
not complaining.
The next
spring I tackled several marathons including the back to back,
Kentucky Derby and Flying Pig Marathons. One on Saturday, the
other on a Sunday. I thought if I could do 50 miles in one
day, I could surely do 26.2 miles two days in a row. Luckily,
my stars aligned (all 4 of them in the Marathon Maniacs) and I
completed this journey. So what next?
On to
what I called the “Epic Fail” of last year. I signed up
for the Run Woodstock Hallucination 100 mile run for September of
2011. Things felt good, my training went well. I had a
previous 50 mile finish and a handful of 50K’s in at this point. I
had pacers and crew lined up. So what was the fail?
Well, I was not prepared to adjust when things didn’t go according
to plan. The rain came pouring down for days before the event,
soaking the trails. It continued through out the event leaving
8 inches of mud that would suck the shoes right off your feet.
I tiptoed around it the best I could, cursing and unhappy the entire
time. I wound up a the start/finish aid station at the end of
loop 3 (of 6) trying to change my shoes and socks...this was
pointless. The race director told me I had 4 minutes to get
out of the tent or I would miss a cut off. I just handed him
my bib and was done. I felt defeated, I did not think there
was any chance to finish the race in the allotted time. So I
packed it in with a 50 mile finish before risking a DNF (Did Not
Finish) in the entire race.
After the
race I was so depressed, feeling like I failed. People asked
how I did and I said, “Well I only finished 50 miles.” Of
course the non-running friends would say, “Only 50 miles, what do
you mean? That is great!” They did not see how I
missed my goal and 50 miles was not the brass ring I was hoping
for.
Friends
began to ask me what race I planned to go to next. They said they
wanted to know so they didn’t sign up for it. They knew the
black cloud would follow me and make for some crummy race
conditions. So I decided one thing. I needed to just
embrace the suck. Take what mother nature threw at me and make
the best of it. I took on a motto that I heard a friend say.
If the race wasn’t going as planned, I would say to myself, “This
sucks! But I love it!”
After a
few days of sulking, I got back up on that horse. Determined
to surpass the 50 mile distance. I signed on for the Top of
Michigan 100K in October of 2011. This race again struck me
with bad weather. It was 40 mph winds with a temp of 38
degrees and driving rain the entire time. I sucked it up and
finished it in 13:00. I felt vindicated after finishing the
100K. I took 3rd place in the women under 45 category. I
like to say that, it sounds good. I always put an asterisk
after that. There were only 5 people in my age group to begin
with. One was a DNS (Did Not Start) and one was a DNF. I
got third just by finishing, but hey-I’ll take third place.
I scored some nice race swag for it. As a back of the backer I
rarely get to place in anything, I take what I can get. After
the elation of this race I decided I would go back to Run Woodstock
in 2012 and get that 100 mile buckle.
2012
consisted of several marathons and a 50K, all I said were in the
name of training. I followed a training plan from Bryon
Powell’s book, Relentless Forward Progress. The title of the
book became a mantra for me. The summer consisted of lots of
long, hot training runs in almost unbearable weather. The
neighbors looked at me as if I were crazy (of course I am.) Who
intentionally goes out to run in the hottest part of the day?
I went out when it was raining, on purpose. I was bound and
determined to run in all weather so when race day came this year, I
would be ready. The culmination of the training happened at
the North Country Trail Marathon, the same place I DNF’d at mile
35 two years earlier. Granted I only did the marathon, I was
treated to 92 degree weather and high humidity. Luckily I just
didn’t care. The race went on and so did I. No record
setting times, but I finished it.
Two weeks
of tapering began. The Facebook chatter was all about how
great the weather was to be for Run Woodstock. Then it
changed. The weather prediction went to (Surprise, surprise!)
RAIN! My husband told me to stop looking at the forecast.
Every time I looked at Facebook someone was saying, it was going to
be another "Mudstock", like it was the previous year. I refused
to let this bother me. I reminded myself that I trained in all
weather. I would accept and embrace whatever came my way on
race day. While everyone else was complaining about the
weather, I shouted, “Bring it on!”
Now to
set the picture for the race. For anyone not familiar with the
Run Woodstock Hallucination 100 miler, it is in the Pinckney State
Park, not far from Ann Arbor, MI. The course is described as
“Dry and runnable.” The course is made up for 6 loops,
about 16.7 miles each with an elevation gain of 1,301 feet per loop
(7,806 total.) It is made up of single track trail, rail trail and horse
trail. You encounter an occasional runaway mountain biker or
horse on the trail. A very small section of the race is on a
dirt road. Some describe it as one of the more technical
trails in the area. But that doesn’t say much, as there
really aren’t technical trails in this area. The trails are
clearly marked and I never had a problem following the markers.
 |
| The "Dry and Runnable" Course |
|
The rules
for the race are that you have to finish in 30 hours. You also
have to run the first two loops on your own, then you are allowed a
pacer. I knew my pacers would be crucial to my success.
I asked my friend Dave if he would pace me again this year. He
came out for one loop in the rain and mud last year. I thought
for sure he wouldn’t sign on again after my “fail” last year.
But he graciously accepted and said he would do the 3rd and 4th loop
with me. This is a huge deal as it is the night time hours on
the trail. Who in their right mind would get up in the middle
of the night and run on a trail for fun? Well, Dave would.
He eats this stuff for breakfast. He’s such a tough trail
runner that if he fell and cut himself, he would probably bleed
spinach.
 |
| Pacer Dave |
|
On to
pacer number two: I leaned upon a man who was partly
responsible for my desire to do a 100 miler. Mike is a
podcaster, and I listened to his show for years. I remember
when he did his first 100 miler and I thought, “Wow, that is
amazing someone I know ran that far.” Along the way, I had
met a few other people that had run this distance, but Mike was a
great resource and willing to help me when I needed it. I gave my
pacers only one demand. I wanted them to lie to me. Tell
me I look great when I look like crap. Promise me that you’ll buy
me a beer, get me a pizza, anything to keep me moving forward.
They both laughed at me when I said that I wanted them to lie to me,
but we all know when you look like crap and someone tells you the
same, it really doesn’t make you feel any better.
In the
race you are also allowed to have crew. For this I enlisted my
Sherpa, also known as my husband Erick. He is so generous to
take me to my races and wait for a long time while I play in the mud
and have fun with my running buddies. We also brought my best
friend Ronda out to keep Erick company and to be my biggest
cheerleader. Crew is so overlooked and under appreciated.
They wait for you for an hour, just to see you for one minute. I
count these two as a blessing at this race.
Run
Woodstock is a hippie themed event. It is three days of peace,
love and running. They have races of every distance. You
can run a 5k, 10K, half marathon, marathon, 50K, 50 mile, 100K and
100 mile. They even have a “natural mile” and of course I saw
them on the trail well before I began hallucinating. The race
takes place at Hell Creek Ranch, near Hell, Michigan. Yes, you
can say you “Ran through Hell.” It is a weekend of music,
bonfires, friends and running. There is a laid back feeling
that makes you feel welcomed.
A close
friend of mine had passed away recently, she battled cancer and it
took her from us way too soon. I decided I would dedicate this race
to her. Her spirit was with me the entire way. I felt
she was an angel on my shoulder, if I almost tripped on something, I
would say, “Thanks Joyce.” There are different kinds of
suffering, hers was not chosen, she did not choose to have cancer.
Yet she fought a good fight. I would choose to suffer some by
the pain inflicted in running 100 miles, in her memory.
About a
week prior to the race I asked Mike if he wanted to do a pre-race
interview for his podcast. He’s game, so we meet at a local
mall. After lunch we do the interview with some strange Kenny
G type mall music blasting in the background. He’s told me
earlier that I seem very relaxed about the race. I hate that
the race is a whole week away. I want to start it now.
We do the interview and of course I feel as if I have said, “like”
and “um” too many times, hoping I don’t sound like a total
idiot. Fifteen minutes later, he shuts off the recorder and we
say our good-byes, knowing the next time I will see him will be
about mile 66 of the race course.
Two days
prior to the race I finally begin packing. My dining room has
become a staging area for all my gear. I can no longer see the
kitchen table. I pack as if I am going to be running for a
month. I put in several changes of clothing, shoes, socks,
rain gear, and way too many gels to count. Everything from baby
wipes to trekking poles. I don’t want to miss a thing.
 |
| Feet are looking pretty good pre-race... Little do they know... |
|
One day
before the race. I have lunch with a friends in from
California. He and his wife are doing the 50K. He’s
recently come off of doing a 200 mile run. He gives me load of
advice and I feel even more confident that the only outcome from
this race is to cross the finish line, there is no acceptable
alternative.
The night
prior to the race I worked my shift at Hansons Running Shop.
Customers and coworkers wished me luck even though I don’t think
some of them were still able to wrap their heads around this
distance I was tackling. The store’s elite athletes can run
5K’s in under 15 minutes, but the thought of 100 miles at any pace
is overwhelming, even to them. At home, I checked Facebook
messages, lots of well wishes from friends and family that would
keep me going during the race. I update my cover photo on Facebook
to a photo my husband took. It is of me from behind. I’m
in my typical running gear and pack. I had no idea how
beneficial this photo would prove during the race. I guess
when you pass someone from behind that is exactly what you are going
to see, so a lot of people recognized me.
Race
morning I wake up and check my Facebook. There is a video
posted on my wall by my pacer Dave. I click on it and the
Black Eyed Peas start singing. “I gotta feeling, that tonight’s
gonna be a good night...” A huge smile appears on my face
and I start dancing around the living room. This song became my race
theme and popped in my head countless times later that day.
We
arrived at the ranch about 1:00PM and found our assigned parking
space for our RV. A recent purchase that my husband convinced
me would be great for my races. This proved to be accurate.
I picked up my race packet and bib, which took about 30 seconds,
then back to the RV to watch TV and relax until the start.
Just before leaving the RV, I slipped on an orange rubber bracelet a
friend gave me last year after my first 100 mile attempt. It
simply says the word “Remarkable” on it. He felt that even
though I had not met my goal, it was still remarkable that I would
continue on this journey.
The start
was 4:00PM. I personally like the late day start. You
get the night portion in before you are super tired, unlike some 100
milers that start in the morning and you run all day then into the
night and back into the day again. I’m not much of a morning
person anyway. I got a good sleep the night before, not having
to worry about getting up early or missing the start. I was
able to eat a decent breakfast and lunch and fuel for the day, that
can be hard to do for an early morning start.
3:55PM-start
coral. I’m not even nervous. For the entire week
before I was telling friends I felt like a race horse waiting for
the gates to open so I could get running. I had no pre-race
anxiety. I knew there was no alternative but to finish.
I had made my “Quit List.” I knew what reasons would be
acceptable for me do drop from this race. 1- a broken bone
that was protruding from the skin. 2- loss of consciousness for
longer than a few minutes. 3- not making a cut off. (If
this happened, I vowed I would give up my bib and finish the race on
my own.) I meet a friend who was also doing his first 100 miler.
(He killed it, finishing 4th place overall.) My goal is just
to finish. I have told everyone I would be happy if I come in
at 29:59:59 in last place.
4:00PM-Go
time. We make a quick loop of the campground, as I pass by
Ronda, she says, “You’re almost there!” I had to laugh
at that, if you count 99.9 more miles to go “almost there.”
Just after leaving the camp we head into the woods and up a short
hill. Everyone stops running to walk up the hill as soon as we
are out of sight of the spectators. This is common in ultras,
almost everyone walks up the hills. But it is still comical to
see people walking in the first 2 minutes of the race, but I did it
too. It is sunny and 80+ degrees out as I head out on my epic
adventure.
I thought
a few of my friends and family might want to track my progress, so I
turned my cellphone over to my husband and he updated my Facebook
status every 4 or so miles. What I later found out was that
people were checking their computers every hour of the entire race,
watching it unfold. I was humbled by the outpouring of
comments and concerns as this adventure took place.
 |
| Nice slip and slide section! |
|
I start
out into the first loop. The humidity kicks up fast. I
enjoy the trails and the comradery with the other runners. In
trail and ultra running you tend to meet more people that you would
in a road race. I’ve made some great friends during races.
Sometimes you wind up running for miles with a total stranger that
becomes a friend before long. I have only one goal for this
first loop, to finish while the sun is still out. It will be a
challenge as it will start getting dark about 7:30PM. The
first section of trail is pretty sandy. I enjoy this as I
don’t have to be careful of tree roots and rocks. The only hazard
in the trail is the horse poop. Luckily, I dodge it all. I
fly down the hills, unusual for me as I am kind of a slow poke on
the descents. I come to the stretch of rail-trail. Nice
and flat, no trip hazards. I know this section will be my
saving grace. I can put some time in the bank here and slow
down when I get back on the trail. After a while we pop back
into the woods and then down the path that leads to the aid station.
I arrive the first aid station at mile 4, known as the Grace
Aid Station. Erick and Ronda are waiting there for me. I
don’t really need anything at this point. I have plenty of
water and sports drink in my pack. A quick hello and I am on
my way. I follow a nice section of dirt road. I enjoy
this as again, I don’t have to worry about tripping on a rock or
root. I come to a road intersection. It is Kelly and
Doyle Streets. This makes me laugh as one of the first ultra
runners I met is named Kelly Doyle. I think she will get a
kick out of this. I continue on the dirt road and then see
signs saying “All Ultras, This Way.” I follow the sign and
duck back into the woods. There is a nice section of wooden
boardwalk and trails intermixed. Some decent hills bring me to
a walk and then back to speed for the descents. I remember the
trail from the past two years. I’m feeling like I won’t
get lost. Last year I had a close call, but someone yelled out
to me and I was able to get back on track. I cross a road and
see my crew. They trade water bottles with me. I’m
doing good, still don’t need anything from them but a smile and
encouraging words. I head up to the 8 mile aid station, known
as the Richie’s Haven. There is a big yurt there. I
never fail to be captivated by this yurt. Such an unusual
structure to see in the middle of the woods. Richie’s has
lots of good food that I want to stay around and sample. I
grab a small bite and a gatorade and head back out. Into the
woods I go. I reach the section that is tough to descend.
It has a layer of a fish-scale like material to keep erosion down.
I think it is made to catch the tread on my shoes. I have to
go slowly to keep from tripping. I’m not graceful by nature
and I really don’t want to do a face plant here. Shortly
after, I am back on to the familiar dirt road and I am headed to the
12 mile aid station. It is the same aid station as the 4 mile
one, the course is a sort of figure eight design. I arrive at
the Grace and am still feeling fine. I’ve made good time.
I pass my crew and head back to the trail. I remember from
years prior that this section had the hardest hills. One hill
seemed to go on forever. I fight not to put my hands on my
knees to push myself up. I know it will only make my back hurt later
if I do this. I’m feeling pretty groovy. All is going
well, until it doesn’t. Mile 15.5. I step the side of
the trail and start vomiting. What? I didn’t even feel
ill. It came out of nowhere. As I stand there a few of
my friends pass by. I know they are thinking my race is over.
They ask if I am ok, I say I will be in a minute. They seem
satisfied with this answer and keep running. I might have been
stopped for 2 minutes at most. I know this will pass. I
threw up last year too, but it was at mile 46. That was a
different story. Last year I took a cup of vegetable soup and
swallowed a pea. I hate peas. I think the thought of it
alone made me vomit. I have no idea what happened this year.
I hadn’t tried anything new. No matter. I just wiped my face
off with a bandana and headed back to the trail. I soon arrive
at Bruce’s Deli, the start/finish aid station, mile 16.6.
The race organizers record my time and I tell my crew I had thrown
up. They start planning what might help. Someone runs
out to get something to settle my stomach and it will await me at
the next aid station. I met my goal, it is still just barely
light out. The first lap was about 4 hours long. It is
about 9:00PM.
Erick
puts my headlamp on me and gives me my handheld flashlight. A
trick I learned to help give more dimension on the trail at night.
I also put on a reflective vest as there is more traffic on the
road section than in the years past. I head back out.
Nothing eventful. I follow pink flags with little silver
reflectors on top. Easy course markings. I have no
problem following them. The race organizers did an amazing job
marking the course. I know I need to start my nutrition
fresh. I try to eat a a gummy energy gel product. I gag
on it. I spit it out and dry heave. Happily, I know
there isn’t anything left in my stomach. I start with more
water intake and one vanilla GU, it stays down. At Grace,
there are Tums awaiting my arrival. I nibble on them and all
seems well. If I try to chew it whole, I get a different
response. I chose to nibble. Ronda handed me a ziplock
bag with three slices of watermelon. It tastes amazing and I
can keep it down. (I take watermelon from them at each aid
station from here on out.) I pass some people on the road and
trail, some also pass me. No one passes without saying
something. Some encouraging word. “How’s your race
going?” ,“You’re doing great” , “Keep it up!” We
are not competing, we are on the same team. No one makes me
feel inferior because I am slower than them. The rain starts
about 10:00PM, just like the weatherman said it would. I embrace the
rain. I expected it. I remember it from last year.
I remember it getting the better of me. It made the course a
mudslide last year and I knew it would this year. I was ready
for it. BRING IT ON! The cold drops feel great after the
heat and humidity of the afternoon. The rain looks like shards
of light in my headlamp. It plays tricks on my eyes. I plow
(and plod) through the course. I pass a lot of people that
have clearly never ran in conditions such as these. I embrace
the suck. Because in the end, it is the suck that makes it so
good. The remainder of this loop goes by just fine. I
have hot soup broth at the aid stations. I tell them only broth, no
veggies...they graciously honor my request. I don’t want a
pea incident like last year. I knew the second loop would be
tough in the dark and alone. I come to the last mile before
the campground. I encounter the runners headed out for the
“Natural Mile.” There is always something shocking about
seeing people running naked in the woods. I got a laugh out of it.
Sorry, but it is a pretty funny sight. The last mile goes by
quite fast, I’m happy when I arrive at the start/finish to meet my
pacer.
I come
out of the woods and pass the tents. I loop through the
campground and I know Dave is waiting for me. In the dark with
my headlamp on, I start singing as loud as I could, hoping to call
him to me. “I gotta feeling, that tonight’s going to be a
good night....” Half way through the lyric I see him and he
hears me and joins in. Huge smile on his face, ready to tackle his
very first ultra marathon. More broth at the aid station, I
change my bottles and I am on my way. I’m so happy to see
Dave that I hug him. He will be my life line for the next 32
or so miles. The second loop took about 4 1/2 hours. so
we have 1 1/2 hours in the bank still. I know I will need this
as the race is in the final stages and I am fatigued. Dave
couldn’t be happier to be on the trials. He couldn’t care
that it is raining and muddy. He’s unselfishly taken time
away from his wife and children to come pace me. I’m very
fortunate. He knows these trails. He’ll keep me on
track. A few minutes later we see a headlamp coming towards
us. I tell the fellow he’s going the wrong way and he seems
ok with it since he knows the aid station is near. Then I
start wonder, maybe it is us that are lost. Dave assures me we
are not lost. He’s correct. I turn a corner and think
I see a person, it turns out to be a shrub. Dave laughs.
It turns out to be nothing like the hallucinations that will come
later. We get to the rail-trail and Dave begins “Rabbit
Hunting.” Picking off people on the course, passing
people. We say encouraging thing as we pass. He counted
17 people we passed in his two loops. I feel strong as he says
encouraging things to me. He tells me I am running through the
ankle deep mud so much better than last year. We talk about
our families, jobs, politics (which he thrives on and I pretend to
understand) as we run. Dave’s brothers have come out to crew
for him this year. They are full of energy each time we see
them. I absorb it. We head back out to the road section.
I told Dave earlier that this was where I could make up some of the
slower times on the trial. He pushes me along. We sing
songs about rain to entertain ourselves...”Singing it the
rain....” I laugh remembering us doing this the year prior
and everyone laughing at us. We didn’t care. We run
into Juli, a friend of mine doing her first 100 mile run. She
is in a low spot. She tells me she’s already cried twice.
Juli can’t believe I have so much energy and am so upbeat. I
say that she needs to suck up some of my energy and push on.
She does just that. We pass each other along the course a few
more times, her pacer couldn’t keep up and she dropped him.
Some hot broth awaits me at Richie’s Haven. Only a minute
later and we are on our way. I know not to waste too
much time at aid stations. If I spent a little over minute at
each aid station it would be about 30 minutes time lost. We
head out. Dave’s headlamp starts going dim. He decides
to grab his flashlight instead of wasting time changing batteries.
He says” Wow, my hands are numb.” I move my fingers.
Hmmm. Mine are too. Dang it. Why did he have to say
that. I wasn’t cold until he said it. The temps had
dropped to 50 degrees and we had a cold rain. We find out
later a lot of people dropped due to hypothermia. I say to
Dave, “We will just have to run faster to stay warm.” He
agrees. We press on. The entire time I think, I am going
to get arm warmers or a jacket at the next aid station. We
arrive at Grace and I’m not even cold. I pass on all my
gear. He gets his batteries and we move on. We tackle the big
hills in the mud as best we can. Two steps forward, one step
back. Slipping down the hills. Still not as bad as last
year, not even close. At least we have perspective. We
arrive a the start/finish aid station on schedule. We refill
water bottles, get a small bite to eat and head back out. We
know in a few hours the sun will start coming out and we will be
feeling groovy. Somewhere near Richie’s Haven Dave realizes
he’s never run as far as he has at this point. He’s
surpassed the 26.2 mile mark. A few miles down the line I pass
the 62 mile mark, my furthest point of running distance. We
see our crew. I do the one and only equipment change of all my
gear. I ask for a new visor. I packed everything but the
kitchen sink. Two huge bins full of gear and all I take is a
visor. Guess I was a little over prepared. It is about
9:10AM. We are both in uncharted territory and loving it.
Each step is new. We keep moving forward. The sun has
been up for some time. I still haven’t eaten much.
Mostly broth, vanilla GU, and watermelon. I try to take an
S-Cap every hour. I usually take two but one seems to be all
my stomach will allow. A few of them opened up in my pack.
A white powder coats the bag and each pill tastes super salty as I
try to swallow it.
We are in
the last four mile section. We were right. The daylight dried
up the course and all was good in the world. Dave is on his
way to finishing his first ultra marathon. I am as excited for
him as he is. I’m so glad I could be there to see this.
I know his friends and family will think he is a rock star for this,
but he keeps telling me that I am the rock star. I am humbled
by this. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have him as a
pacer. He’s my trail brother. We round the bend and
head into the campground. He starts yelling that there is a
100 miler coming through. He’s still thinking about me, when
it is his moment. As we come to the aid station I see a few
friends from my running group, Your Pace or Mine. I get some
high fives. I suck the energy up and take it with me when I
head back out. Dave crosses the line and is now an ultra
marathoner. He’s just finished his first 50K. I’m so
proud of him. I give him a hug and thank him. I need to
keep moving. I know I will need every minute as the night
comes. I think, I should change my shoes and socks. They
are both wet. I think about sitting in a chair to do it.
Sitting, that sounds good. Wait, NO IT DOESN’T! There is a
saying in ultra marathoning, “Beware of the chair!” If you
sit down, you won’t get back up. I decide to continue on in
my wet shoes and socks.
I pick up
Mike to pace me. It is about 10:30AM. While Dave talked
my ear off, Mike is more reserved. Not quiet by any means, just not
the same as Dave. I tell Erick I want broth. He says to
keep moving and Mike will bring it to me. Erick hands it to
Mike and warns him there might be a carrot in the broth and to get
it out for fear I might gag like I did on the pea last year. I
don’t know who did what, but there was no carrot when I got the
broth. Probably a good idea, crisis averted. I describe
the trial to Mike, we cross to the rail trail and I feel myself
lagging behind him. He’s fresh. He’s got long legs
and a huge stride. I struggle to keep up. He’s fast
walking and I’m doing a shuffle run. He uses a new tactic.
He puts music on his phone and tells me to stay close enough to hear
it. If I get more than a dozen steps behind I can’t hear the
lyrics. I keep up. He’s still just walking. I
warned him before he said he would pace me that it would be late in
the game and I would be struggling to keep up with him. He
still agreed. He’s good at fast walking. Every time I
ask him if we are on pace he says, “Yes.” He lies to me.
Just like I asked him to. I know I have the one and a half
hour buffer from the first two loops. I will use most of it
later in the race. I force myself to run the nice flat
sections. I need more and more walk breaks. He says
nothing about this. He’s just what I need at this moment.
I don’t feel like chit-chatting. I seem to only have one
word answers for him the entire time he is with me. I feel
like he might think I am ungrateful as I am not even hardly talking
to him. I just don’t have the energy to talk. Mike
looks back to see if I am still with him. He checks to see if
I am drinking and eating. I am, still water, watermelon and an
occasional S-Cap. Better than nothing. I take broth
when it’s available. At mile 80, I took my trekking poles.
I though it might help me in the climbs. Turns out there are
so many rocks and roots that I couldn’t get the poles to get any
purchase and I turned them back over to the crew shortly after.
It was worth a try. The climbs and descents become
increasingly hard on my legs.
3:33PM.
We cross the start/finish line for the 5th time. One loop to
go! My crew posts a photo on Facebook saying I’m looking good and
have an excellent attitude. Hopefully this is true. I
lose a lot of time, I can’t seem to keep my feet at more than a
shuffle. My left shin is starting to bother me. Mike
says it is probably a bit of tendonitis. I feel the huge
blister that was under my left arch pop. I’m kind of glad if
finally did, relieving the pressure. My feet feel so swelled
up. I know I really should loosen up my shoe laces. I
don’t want to waste a minute. I touch the orange
“Remarkable” bracelet on my arm and draw energy from it.
Someone thought I was remarkable. I want to finish this race.
My back and neck are getting sore. I lean on a tree from time
to time trying to stretch it out. Your neck gets very sore in
ultras. They say if you don’t look down, you will go down.
You need to be constantly aware of the path ahead of you. I am
constantly scanning for rocks and roots. I had a few near
misses but have not fallen. I am thanking my trail angel,
Joyce for that.
The temps
are mid 60’s, just perfect. My clothes have dried from the
overnight rains. I never bother to change into anything
fresh. I keep losing time. I probably know this, but
Mike keeps telling me I am on pace. He knows that I don’t
care if I come in last place at the last second, I just want to
finish. I find out later that he’s never kept such a close
eye on his watch in his life. At Grace, Erick asks how I am
doing. I say my shin hurts. He says, “No, it doesn’t.”
He tells me to keep moving. I do just that. A mile down the
road I feel a sharp pain in my shin. I think for a second that
this might be the end of my race. I yell an expletive.
Mike looks back and asks what’s up. I tell him and he just
says, to keep moving forward. I give him a puzzled look but do
as he said. My brain is not registering things right at this
point. I walk a bit and eventually start to shuffle step
again. A few miles later Juli blows past us. She’s got
a new pacer and a whole lot of energy. I never see her again
at the race.
 |
| Looking great on the trail! |
|
Mile 92:
The Hallucinations. We see Erick and Ronda before Richie’s
Haven. Erick will later tell me that when he looked at my
face, there was nothing but a blank expression. I had a glazed
over and dazed look. The race started to race live up to it’s
name right here. Just before the Yurt I look to my right.
I say to Mike, “Do you see that RV?” He tells me to keep
moving. After the aid station I see cars everywhere in the
woods. I think my brain just wanted me to get to the next aid
station to see Ronda’s vehicle or our RV at the campground.
Either way, it messed with my head. I would look off to the
side of the trail and think I saw a cat. Mike held steady with
his response telling me to keep moving forward. When darkness
came on I saw dirty socks all over the trail. Another
hallucination best I can tell. I think they were really rocks.
I have my headlamp on for the last road section before Grace.
A car pulls up and it is Dave. He starts yelling for me to
move faster. That this is my pay-dirt, the flat straight
sections. I shuffle faster, which still isn’t fast. I
know I have lost a lot of time even though Mike continues to tell me
we are doing fine. I am elated that Dave came back out.
I know he will be at the finish line to celebrate. As we pass
Grace for the last time, Erick tells me that I am a machine. I
know I am in the home stretch. I do the best I can to shuffle
run the rest of the way in, except for that last hill that never
seemed to end. I keep asking Mike if he can see the road.
We have to cross one road and then it is a one mile section to the
campground. We’ve agreed he will turn on his recorder at the
99 mile mark and do a short recording for the podcast. I am
following his headlamp in the darkness forever. It seems to be
never ending. He finally says he sees the road. I scream
in joy. We cross the road and he turns on the recorder.
He asks me questions and I give one word answers. It is all I
can muster. I know I will sound like an idiot in this
recording, more than the pre-interview. But at least I have an
excuse for sounding off at this point. I’m grinding away at
the last mile. Mike asks me if I am excited. I say I
will not be excited until I see the campground. He says,
“There it is!” I see the campfire at the tent closest to
the woods. I scream out in joy. As I come out of the
woods and into the campground I am thrilled, awake and alive with
victory in my veins. I am yelling so my husband knows it is
me. I hear him yell back. I cross that finish line and
he hugs me and he is in tears. I have no juice left. Not
an ounce of water left in my body to produce a tear. I am very
dehydrated. I’m given a peace sign finisher medal, an
awesome belt buckle and a hat. A bottle of champagne is
produced. Hugs and toasts with several of my ultra runner
fiends, crew and pacers. We take photos to preserve this
moment I tell my husband I will NEVER run another 100 miler.
He is smart, he knows me. He says, “We will talk about it
tomorrow.”
A matter
of a few steps to the RV and a few more photos. I announce
that I need to sit down. This comes as no surprise but I am
told to hang on for a few more photos. I feel my ears ringing
and I say, “I’m about to pass out.” One second later I
am being carried into the RV. I don’t remember anyone
picking me up, just being carried in. I’m laying down and
feel cold and sleepy. My husband is a trained first
responder. My pupils are fixed and dilated. I have no
capillary refill and my lips went grey. He has someone get the
medics. They come and give me oxygen, take my blood pressure.
They say if I will drink they won’t hook up an IV. I agree
to drink anything. They get another call of a woman passed out
in the campground shower. I find out later it is Juli, she
wound up in the Emergency Room that night. I am lucky.
 |
| FINISHED!!! | |
I fall
asleep in the RV. I wake up later and need help walking 2 feet to
the bathroom. My husband helps. I also realize I never
brushed my teeth. My teeth feel like they have fur coats. He
hands me my toothbrush and a cup of water. I tell him the
toothpaste tastes terrible and ask where he got it. He said
from my kit. I know there is no toothpaste in there. We
both realize it is hydrocortisone and I can’t spit it out fast
enough. Guess you shouldn’t ask someone as tired as you to
do something like that. Tomorrow I will spend almost two hours
pouring over the kind words of encouragement and congratulations
from friend and family. These are people that I was sure were
so tired of hearing about my running that they wouldn’t even pay
attention. I’ve exhausted them all year with races and long
training runs. I honestly felt maybe just my family and a few
friends would follow the posts. I found out later that people
were glued to their computers for 30 hours. Hoping, waiting
for word of my success. I am so fortunate. I thank all
of them for caring. I am beyond words for this public
outpouring they have given me.
 |
| There goes another toenail... |
|
I wake up
after 9 hours of sleep and still can’t comprehend what I did.
I hold the buckle. It seems surreal. Who am I? I am just
a normal person. I love running. I had a goal. I
ran 100 miles. I finished in 29 hours, 28 minutes and 26
seconds. I was close to last, and that was fine with me.
149 people registered for the 100 miler the race. Only 69
finished. I was number 63. They say in ultras that there
are three kinds of people at the finish line. The competitors,
the runners, and the survivors. I’m not sure if I am a
runner or a survivor, I’m just glad I finished.
Erick
wakes up and asks me what is on my mind. I simply say the name
of the next race on my radar, “Burning River.”
