I was feeling really good going into this race. Very nervous, but good. This would be my first race of the year, my first race after a few months of living and training at higher elevation. I was anxious to see how my racing would change, if I would feel different. I remember thinking when I ran Leadville in 2012, “someday I want to be able to run UP mountains” I was frustrated because all of my uphill “running” in the mountains reduced me to a slow hike. I could not physically run UP mountains and I so badly wanted to. I wanted to know what that felt like.

Ready for some fun???

In the past 3 months I have had more than a taste of running UP mountains in Flagstaff, AZ. The trails here are brutally rocky and rooty, and where they aren’t rocky/rooty they are sandy/slidy. My uphill running still feels weak ,but I can tell I am improving significantly, and the really techy terrain is training me well for the more technical terrain of the Skyrunning type races that I really love.

Ok, ok so the race. I did my warmup just before the start and felt really good with a really responsive heart rate. I lined up with the lead girls, hoping to hang with them for a while and see if I could stay with them. There were several girls there with pretty phenominal race histories and times, HardRock 100 and Western States 100 top 5 finishers, girls that blew me away by over 2 hours last year at Speedgoat. I was definitely intimidated, but I wanted to see if I had improved and could close the huge gaps between my times last year and theirs, just kindof a measuring stick to see if I am really improving. At  I the word “go” from the race director, I settled in and kept the lead girls in sights for the first 3 miles.

The pace was fast, but not too uncomfortable. The trails were technical, but not nearly as technical as Flagstaff. Around mi 4, the girls were creeping farther ahead and I knew I was at my maximum effort that I was going to be able to maintain so I didn’t push any harder. I continued to ride that “comfortably uncomfortable” feel/pace. We hit more technical terrain at about 5-8 miles with some silly steep short decents and climbs. I was passing people on the descents and really feeling grateful for the technical terrain of home trails. I heard lots of complaining from other runners as we went about the rocks and roots, and I just kept thinking, “oh this is sooooo nice compated to home!” My oldest son came with me to crew and my dad and stepmom….and aunt and cousin that I haven’t seen in a couple of years showed up which was just so special for me! I met my dad and stepmom at mi 10 and they cheered me on.

The longest climb of the course was from about mi 9 to 17-18. Several thousand feet up Pajarito Mountain. I was anxious to see how much of it I could run. The trails were smoother here and I was able to run most of the switchbacks and climbing, continuing that upper moderate effort, but a little more comfortable than the first few speedy miles. I dont usually run with music, but slipped my headphones in thinking it would help me climb. That lasted about 5 minutes, the music just seemed distracting and annoying, so I tucked my earbuds away for the rest of the race. Not without music entirely though, somehow I got Beastie Boys, “You gotta fight for your right to party” in my head and climbed with that, it was fun to have that in my head as I tried to feature what I was doing a party. I was definitely fighting for it! I did struggle early on with mild nausea, that was unrelenting. I was trying to sip Tailwind- a sport drink as I could, but I’m pretty sure I dipped low on calories for a few miles. At mi 16-17 I suddenly just lost my legs. My effort was high and my gluts were on fire. My run turned into mostly a hike with a little running from mi 17-18. The nausea was high as well. I tried to force more calories and my stomach was not pleased with this. 

Here I am during that rough patch...

We finally topped out at 10,200ft and the decent into the ski lodge about a mile or so below started. It was off trail down a steep grassy section initially. My legs felt weak and wimpy all the way in to the aid station at mi 18.6. Everyone was there and I pretended I felt great. I intentionally took a couple minutes to regroup (mostly my mind), I was hoping to plow down that descent and be feeling really great here. I reloaded my pack with Tailwind, endurolytes and water and ate a gel with caffeine to try and regain my mojo. Hugs and kisses to the crew and I was off again.

This next section was only about 3 miles of rolling up and down, but I was still struggling a bit with nausea and low energy. I pushed my effort and really focused on making the most of every minute, running every section I possible could and hiking much of the climbs. I passed a few people here which surprised me.

Hit the next aid station at around 22 miles and took in more electrolytes and some heavenly ice cold watermelon. That seemed to turn my stomach around and I hiked up and out of that aid station. Around mi 23 we started to descend more and I was trying to really run hard these sections. As soon as I started decending my low back started spasming. Wow that was painful! It slowed my descent some along with some side stitches. I was really getting frustrated, but so glad to see the next little climb, hoping to get some relief. I was with another runner who offered some ibuprofen. I gladly obliged as I knew I was well hydrated and wasn’t worried at this point closer to the finish of problems with kidney damage. That saved my run! within about 15 minutes my back was improving and the next decent I was able to be more aggressive. I picked up momentum as I went, the trails a little more techy here and hit the 25 mi aid station. More watermelon and ginger ale and it was on! I finally got my mojo and legs back and I hit it hard all the way to the finish.

The last mile or two were mostly uphill, but I was pleased that I was able to run uphill again and passed a few more people. At about mile 27 i gtadually caught another runner on a downhill section. He pulled away going up so I worked harder to try and catch him. As he went down i closed the gap and he would work harder going downhill to stay ahead. We did this several times and got into a really cool rythm of actually pushing eachother harder. No words, just a sense that we were working together To get the most out of each of us. He pulled me up the hills faster than I wanted to go and I pushed him down faster than he wanted to go. This went on for several miles, we both just seemed to understand what was happening without words. He never relented on the uphills nor did I on the downhills. It was so cool. We hit the last aid station at mi 32 and greeted eachother amd we were off again. He finally eased up on a climb and I passed. We had a great chat at the finish as we both appreciated the combined effort that really made those last miles count. I finished and as always amazed at how terrible I can feel so early on and how I can come back and feel great 10 miles later. It defies logic. That is the amazing thing about ultras, there is so much that happens that defies logic. I have also learned never ever to trust how I feel as a determinant of how the race is going to go. I have yet to encounter an ultrarunner that has not experienced the same thing. It is truly the one thing you can count on.

Lest I forget....one last little nasty climb up a boulder wall a stream had cut through and there was my dad at the top encouraging me on! My aunt, son, cousin all snapping pictures of me and cheering me through the finish was so incredibly special. I finished in 7:04 and 6th female…..and came within 30min to 1 hour of the women that bested me last year by more than 2 hours at this distance. I was so pleased with my effort, my hr and my run. I never gave in, I never let up. I adjusted and adapted to what I needed to do at every moment. I hiked when it was necessary and ran everywhere possible as aggressively as possible every moment. I didn’t let the really terrible feeling moments predict my race or my finish. I treated the problems, acknowledged the pain, but didn’t give it any power over my run.  Really proud of my race. Would love to have had a better clock time, I was hoping for 6:30 finish, but that is totally eclipsed by how well I feel like I executed my day. The BEST New Mexican food and beer at the finish! Cheers!

You may want to skip to the last paragraph to get the title, but as usual, I write about what led me to it....so here goes...

Welcome to Tuba City Arizona. Just settling in with fam and dogs and getting going with running again. It’s been a long 8 week or so break from running due to health issues and a huge family move from Northeast  Oklahoma (green country) to the high desert about 5,000ft or 1500m.

First thoughts running?  “Wow, I am slow” followed by “wow, my heart rate is really high” followed by, “wow, I am really slow!”.  

It’s been a little surreal...my new surroundings...my new world really. I led this expedition for my family, so I feel a huge responsibility for their adjustments (which fortunately kids and hubby are settling in well). I did not expect my own need for adaptation though. I just thought I would walk right in and set up camp and on I go like nothing really happened. The first couple weeks I felt a little lost. As week 3 comes to a close I am starting to get my bearings, but still feel unsettled at times.  My running feels this way too.  The word “discovery” seems to be my mantra lately..as I am discovering new sights and views, new emotions, new house, new running, new everything... no familiarity which is a little unnerving. Familiarity feels safe. I feel almost as exposed as the landscape.

I am amazed at the views of the desert, canyons, and Navajo and Hopi villages and Mesas. Flagstaff has the mountain running I love as well. It is foreign though, and my running feels so slow, which is a little frustrating. Even though I know it is normal, I feel like I shouldn’t be THAT slow. So, a mixed bag of excitement, surreal, frustration, unknowns and discovery.  I feel much like a mixed bag!  So, right now I’m just staying mostly in the right now...which is against my grain. Learning to be fine with all of the unknowns and navigating without trying to control the future or outcomes. This is bringing at the same time peace and uneasiness, even though “control” is an illusion, it is difficult to let go of that desire to achieve it or chase after it.  I can tell I am learning, because of how I feel about my 2015 Cool Impossible.

This is the 5th year I will be chasing a “Cool Impossible”. I am delighted to say, this is the first year I have had no hesitation or anxiety in putting it out there. I am shooting high, waaaay over my head even. My CI is to get in to The North Face 50 mile endurance challenge championships in December 2015…. and place top 10 female. It excites me and is funny and awesome all in one. A year ago I would’ve thought, “I should really think of something that is more possible”, “What will people think if I put that out there?”, “They will laugh”, “There is no way I can achieve that”, “What will my coach think?”, “what if I don’t achieve it?”. Who cares!  Really...who cares? So what if I don’t get top 10 or 20 or 40?  What if I come in dead last?  It is the going for it that matters. It is the fun of chasing after the impossible. Learning what the human spirit can achieve in the process and the experience is the real cool impossible.

“What I've written seems a little bit too neat, it feels a little sloppier on the inside”....Those were my words when I asked coach to look at my blog post before I posted it. And that really sums up how I feel about some awareness that’s coming around. I’ve never asked anyone to look at my blogs before I post them. I don’t want to change my words based on someone else’s opinion. I see blogs as thoughts, not right or wrong, but a demonstration of where one is at a given point in time. Getting feedback after I post helps me process through those thoughts and see them in different lights and from different angles, revealing to me new insights. But, sometimes I wonder how honest I am with myself when I write. Below is a mix of honesty and self talk. My thoughts and experiences below leave me feeling a bit out on a limb with my ego-remember Walter? There he is...

talking loudly. I started this blog last weekend while keeping up with the TNF 50 and it has evolved from there….

Hike or run, hike or run...after watching the TNF 50 unfold on twitter, between seeing patients, I was seeing pictures come through on the feed and I could feel the dirt, smell the air and feel my own heart pumping. Here in the photo on the left from IRF is winner Magdalena Boulet. I was dying to get my feet on trail and run! I’d been looking forward all week to getting on the trails again, it’s been over 5 weeks now. My body is still healing from recent surgery, and although I am enjoying the rest and recovery, at times I am overcome with the burning desire to get out and run!  I also know that once I start training again, I’m going to reaaaally miss these easy days. An awareness has settled in as the past couple of months have unfolded. An awareness stepping back from, or out of my passion for a time, along with life events brought. It’s hard to have perspective in the midst of passion... be it passion in work, in running, or even in relationships.

I ended this season of racing with mixed emotions. I was able to get out and run in amazing places, testing the waters to see if I really liked mountain running...and oh do I ever! But, I was frustrated with outcomes, my finishing times/placing. That’s not what I wanted my racing to be about. I would never have admitted it, but my racing was as much about the finish line as about the experience, and my self worth was dependent on how well I finished. I was embarrassed that I didn’t do as well as I thought I should in the series. I felt I had disappointed myself, my family, my coach. I shoulda done better.

The whirlwind of this summer’s racing, in particular the fact that my self worth was so tied up in my performance and finish time, the loss of my mother-in-law to aggressive cancer, and my own close encounter with the potentially lethal diagnosis and current post op complications that have the serious potential of keeping me from running even longer.….breath...and a move to Arizona in just a few weeks has made the past few months, well, interesting. It has also shaken me down a bit emotionally. There is something good and almost magical churning inside of me through this. When I found myself in a place with so many things stacked up,  where I couldn’t possibly process through or control the outcomes (the absurd delusion of control)...I let go...whoosh...and felt what it was like to live in the moment. This led me to the absolute opposite of what I anticipated....peace. I became fully present in the present, in the moment. An amazing place no one could sweet talk me in to. No urging or cajoling me to "let go and live in the now" could have brought me here.  Combine that with a true realization of where my drive to “know” comes from...

Hmmm….self esteem....3 months ago I would have scoffed if you suggested I had low self esteem. I would have touted, “look what I have done!” ….and on the inside be ashamed. My self worth was tied up in my accomplishments, or lack thereof..in running and life. And the unfortunate thing is no accomplishment was good enough. I could have always been faster or somehow pushed harder in a race here or there, and in life, well, smarter, wittier, prettier and the list goes on and on.

This peace, this in-the-moment peace was a place, a feeling I first found in the mountains of Colorado. Surrounded by the magnificence, thin air, and beauty that surrounded me. And even more intensely, running in the mountains seemed to bring me more fully present and aware. Like a drug I was addicted. I thought I was addicted to the Mountains, to that physical place. It is now, 3 years later, In a whirlwind of uncertainty, I understand it was not the physical place that called me, it was that place inside of me that called. But can I continue in that place if I can’t run? I would love to be able to say “yes of course”, but I don’t know...heh, and I can’t know.

As it says in the photo below, "Life begins at the end of your comfort zone"

The greatest gift we can give to this world....and ultimately ourselves is....our self, the unfiltered, unshielded plain and simple, fully in the moment, in the person in front of us, self. Not the yeaterday, tomorrow or 5 minutes from now, but in the moment self. Strangely, running ultra races has taught me this.

To race, to go beyond what I know I can do, to push through fear and pain and uncertainty, requires one to be fully present in the moment, you lose all ability to put up any sort of shield, you become who you really are and I have yet to meet a soul on the trail in those moments, when they are stripped down, to be anything less than beautiful.

It is then I see our creator in my fellow man and in myself. what I didn't realize until last night at work, after seeing patient after patient after patient, that I can experience that in any moment. If I am fully present in the moment, in the patient in front of me, without shield, filter, guard, without being in the past or thinking 5 minute or an hour in the future.

If I can be fully present in the moment and in the patient, a magical thing happens. They become fully in the moment, lose their filter, their guard, their shield and 2 beautiful souls are revealed, a connection is made, and healing occurs....without medication, a shot, a pat on the back. This is why I run crazy distances, crazy courses, always pushing always climbing, to learn and grow and see, really see.

All of this made possible by some crazy coach that told me once, "demand the impossible". I thought he was high.  ....he was ;)  ...and now I am too.

The past few blogs have not been about mountain running, but mountain running has taught me how to approach this life climb. Yesterday I went under anesthesia to biopsy my bladder. I’ve had some post running blood in my urine, prompting the evaluation that led to finding a couple of spots on my bladder.

I think about how I would have approached and dealt with this 3 years ago, before running changed my whole way of thinking. The world is bigger and I am much smaller. Life and our world is precious. And it’s freeing to know it’s not all about me.

I have big plans for 2015, my goal race is going to be Tor Des Geants. Ill have to have a fair amount of luck to get in, but I think its gonna happen. I won’t know that until February. Right now it is just a day at a time. Currently, I am not running, I haven’t in 2 weeks which feels like 2 years at times, but I’m making the most of it, and hopeful I will get to start training again soon.

In the meantime, I await the biopsy results. I should know monday, the results, and go from there. Im ready to slip my running shoes back on! ...soon

Pumpkin Holler 50k is a rolling gravel course that follows the Illinois river, farms and the hills of Cherokee County, Ok. That would be my race today. It’s the end of the season for me. It’s been a packed spring/summer with amazing races in places I’ve never seen before. It’s also been a painful summer with the loss of my mother-in-law just a couple weeks ago. Truly, a mother and role model for me. I was left feeling quite hollow, but with a sense of relief that she no longer would suffer. After The Rut in September, I continued to run and train for Flagstaff, the finale race in the U.S. Skyrunning Series. But as Ellen got weaker I knew there was a good possibility I wouldn’t make it, and indeed, her condition became grave the week of the race.  Everything seemed to stop all at once.

I was a little frustrated with my racing at speedgoat and the rut as well. I was rather disappointed in how long it took me on both those races and I couldn’t objectively guage my effort during those races...I think due to fear I didn’t trust myself and was afraid to push my effort at all. I was anxious to see if I could push myself a little further at Flagstaff.  

Today I didn’t want to wonder if I could have maintained a higher effort, I wanted to know when I finished the race, that I couldn’t have put any more effort here or there. That I made sure to do everything I could to have the best race I could today.

After the Rut, coach encouraged me to run Flagstaff without headphones. I had never run a race or a hard workout without headphones. Easier trail runs less than 3 hours I usually don’t wear them, but for any perceived “hard” or “really long” run, well, they are my pacifier, so to speak. I missed Flagstaff, but from the time he suggested running without headphones I did, and an amazing thing happened. I ran better. I wasn’t distracted, I could actually focus on my effort and know exactly where I was, not just try to “get through” the hard part. I was afraid if I had nothing  distract me when it got hard, I would fall apart. The opposite happened...I could better keep it together. I also realized that much of the summer I didn’t “feel” my runs. Maybe in part due to distraction from headphones, but more from stress. As hard as it was to lose Ellen, once I let her go in my heart and mind, I could feel again. I distinctly remember going out for a run along the pumpkin holler course, and it was like I could really see, hear, feel everything...the green river, the vibrancy of the colors in the trees and leaves. I could hear...the crunching gravel, the wind, leaves rustling, and I could feel… the warmth of the sun, the breeze on my skin, my heart beat, every muscle in my legs and arms. I could feel the effort, and I could feel the gratitude and connection with everything around me.

And after that day of being able to feel again, I knew I could run a race and find that line of knowing my effort, knowing when to push, when to back off, because I KNEW I could feel it. There was no fear, no need to distract. And then coach took it a step further.  He said something to the effect of, “how about putting tape on your watch so you can’t see the data, just go by feel”. Initially, it gave me a little panic attack. A full 50k with no watch data. I started out with and have become very dependent on my watch to “tell me” what my effort is based on my heart rate, splits, etc. Of course I always see coach’s suggestions as a challenge, and I love challenges so I was in.

So, race morning, white electrical tape over the face of my watch.  Looking at the blank white tape, I thought, “I should write something on it”. Todd suggested, “I’m right behind you!”. I thought that was funny and would be good motivation, so I did.

I wanted to do everything right on this race that I had control over. I ate a large breakfast 3 hours before the race to make sure I was well fueled and not full at the start. I did my pre race warm up getting my hr up just before the start. I carried 1 handheld with water and 1 gel from the start, planning to go for 2 gels per hour-ish, but based more on feel than timing. I did leave the alarm on my watch ticking off the miles, so I would at least know what mile I was at.

The race director yelled, “go” and we were off. I knew I was going out a little fast, but not too fast...at least it didn’t feel like it. After a couple miles I settled down a little. at around mile 4 we started to climb gently then steeper. I took a quick peek back and saw the second female right behind me. “Well crap” I thought, “how appropriate, the ‘I’m right behind you!’ on my watch really is!” I pushed on up the hill, a little harder effort than I would have if she weren’t right there. I knew if I could top the hill, I could easily plow down it, downhill is a skill I have and I was sure I could break away. I cruised right on through the mi 5 aid station saying hello and waving to everyone trying to look like I was having an easy time. I could tell by her breathing she was having at least as much difficulty getting up that hill as I was, but I wanted her to think it was a breeze for me. I put just a little gap on the downhill and rolled into mi 7.5 aid feeling good. Grabbed a couple of gels and topped off my water and headed out for the 3 mile out and back section. My effort had been riding a little higher than I knew it should, but I wanted to try and put a little lead on the girl behind me so when we passed each other it would seem like I was widening the gap. I also determined to look as happy and care free as possible when we passed. Got to the turnaround and in less than 1 minute, there she was…”well shit, that didn’t work!” I continued that higher effort back to the aid at 10.5 miles and headed off for the next aid station. By 11 miles I could tell I had extended probably a little too much effort and was feeling a little fatigue in the legs. I thought, “oh it is waaay to soon for this”. I decided to take in another gel, I had only had 2 gels at that point, and even though my tummy wasn’t really excited about taking one on, I thought maybe I just needed more energy.

My energy picked up a little, but now my gut was cramping. “I hope I make it to the porta potty at the next aid station...I hope there is a porta potty at the next aid station”. A long shallow climb lay ahead. Despite the fatigue my legs were feeling I was determined to continue that little bit harder effort. I knew I was moving a little slower, but had no concept of my pace..was it 8? 9? 10 min/mi? I really had no clue. I could tell at this point my HR wasn't as high, so I knew my pace had slowed, but I def was going as fast as my legs would allow at that point, so I didn’t stress.  I could hear voices behind me and I just knew it was the 2nd place female getting ready to take me. I kept making sure I was giving all the effort I could, I was not holding back. Any harder effort would not have been sustainable. We topped out about a half mile from the 14 mi aid station and I reveled in plowing down into the aid station. To my surprise I had put a little more of a gap on #2. Unfortunately, my gut required a visit to the porta potty I was oh so glad to see. As I exited and grabbed more gels and water she rolled into the aid station. I took off.

I was worried at how my legs were feeling at under the halfway point. They were really starting to feel more than mildly sore, hips and knees hurting a little and just leg tired. My energy was good, I felt good, but my legs were not as good. I was continuing to get a gel in about every 3-4 miles and drank from my water bottle to quench my thirst. By mi 16 my gut was cramping again. The course is dirt road, flanked mostly by fences. I was looking for an opportunity to dart off the dirt road and find a good hiding place as my gut was cramping more and more. I knew I was not going to make it to the next porta potty! I am quite modest and will practically get myself lost off the trail to make sure not a soul will see me. In this case it would mean about 50-100meters or more off the dirt road through thick brush to a remote enough tree to hide myself.  Knowing She was probably not far behind, I decided I would run as fast as I could through the brush to the perfect hiding spot and run as fast as I could back, I would not waste any time! And so ran off the road through thick brush when I got my left foot tangled in barbed wire hiding in the brush. It grabbed me right out of mid stride and jerked me straight to the ground smacking my left knee and shin on the hidden rocks. Stunned by the sudden jerk and sharp pain, and of course still trying to get the hell back on the road before She caught me, I rose to my feet and managed to slice the back of my leg with the barbed wire in my haste. Cursing I took care of business and ran (a little more cautiously) back to the road. A bloody mess, but no real damage done. I looked back as I got back on the road and saw no evidence of her. I was surprised. I knew my pace was slower, I had no idea how much slower, but I felt surely she would catch me. At mi 18 aid station I regrouped, grabbed more gels, salt, water and took off. I wasn’t sure where I was in relation to the guys in front. I figured I was in 5th or so place. I could see one or two of them from time to time in front of me and one I was gaining on very gradually.

The 22 mi aid station was named “hard up ahead”. I really didn’t like that name, as I wasn’t sure how much “hard up ahead” I had in me. This was the only paved section of the course and by now my hips, left IT band and knees were talking very loud. I tried easing up on my pace a bit to see if it would help briefly, but as I suspected, it only hurt more to go slower. The faster I go, typically the less joint pain I have...unless I’m walking or hiking...and walking/hiking just was not an option today. Today was going to be riding that line of hard and unsustainable, and faster was less painful than slower.  Faster also meant I got to be done sooner and have a beer and a hot dog. At 25 miles I finally got the feeling that maybe I had really shaken #2 girlie, I also knew if she could muster the strength to pass me at this point, there would be nothing I could do. I was going as fast as I possibly could. I caught the guy in front of me. Good golly my legs were hurting. I heard my watch beep, “Ok, I’m at 27 miles..I’m on the hunt for mi 28” I decided to play this goofy game in my head. ‘I’m looking for mi 28” I would look ahead, plotting, figuring where it would be, like I was hunting it down. “Beep”, ok that was mi 28. now I’m on the hunt for mi 29...I’m going to get mi 29” This actually worked. I could tell my legs were working harder and I was moving a little faster, it was like I had a purpose. My eyebrows furrowed, on the hunt for mi 29. Beep. Ok, mi 30….and on to 31. At 31 I could see glimpses of the river bridge we would cross just before the last 200 meters or so. “oh, thank God” I thought, I am finally there! I crossed the finish at 4:37. I was hoping for under 4:30, but knew I had given every ounce all the way. I don’t know that I have finished a race that satisfied with myself. Maybe Boston Marathon last year. I felt every moment of that race, no distractions and no desire for distraction...that’s the part that surprised me. I didn’t need distraction. I was fortunate to get a little icing on my cake today, first female and 3rd overall finisher. But as I am learning...it’s not about the finishing place, or really even time. The joy is in the effort, in the “doing”. Dealing with the unexpected, adapting and prospering and moving forward with the best effort I can lay down. That is where the joy lies.

For some reason today felt like the first run since The Rut. It wasn’t. I’ve been running most days since the race, but I don't remember feeling much when I ran after the Rut. Maybe circumstance, my mother-in-law dying, maybe fatigue, or likely both, but today was the first day I EXPERIENCED my run. I felt alive and aware again. And I felt a deep connection with nature. I don't know that you can experience it through my ramblings, but I wish you could feel it. ...It is heaven.

The run itself actually should’ve been a little hellish. Strength/Speedwork. It was 79 degrees with 75% humidity. It would be a midday run, typically not my best time to run....I'm a morning girl. The agenda: Warm up getting to HR zone 4 by 30 minutes, then 5 x 5 min "near max" effort intervals followed by a 20-30min recovery/cool down.

I took a water bottle figuring I would need it for the hour and a half to 2 hours I would be out.

I got ready to head out down the rolling gravel road just across the river bridge. Before long, this old steel river bridge will no longer exist. The road crew is working on a new concrete bridge. I received a few waves and nodding heads as I prepared to head out. As I took off, clear blue-green Illinois river rambled to my left. The river is low this time of year making the bottom easy to see. The trees still full of mostly green leaves, with few hints of gold and orange and providing much appreciated intermittent shade. I felt my HR rising as I went, increasing my effort gradually to get warmed up. Increasing effort, increasing effort then around 30minute in, bang! Off I went for the first of 5 speed intervals. Heart pounding, the minutes never seem longer than during these intervals. Gauging, "ok Lori, that next tree, that next tree is likely a minute”, “ok, that bend in the road ahead, that should be 2 minutes”, “the top of that hill”, and so on. No music to distract, staying right in the moment,  feeling that effort, that fine line of sustainable/unsustainable and adjusting to keep it there, keep it there, keep it there,  just 1 more minute...30 seconds...keep it there,  duhuun! Hands on knees, walk a bit, jog a bit, get ready to go again. The water I brought to drink not palatable, only able to tolerate a little, the rest used to pour a little after each interval on top of my head, neck and face in attempt quell the sensation that my head was going to spontaneously combust right off of my shoulders.  I needed more on me than in me. 3rd one came around, feeling the fatigue by 3-4 min, quick peek at watch, a little disappointed at more time left than i had anticipated, the wind picks up, the leaves rustle, I imagined their encouraging me, "go lori, finish strong". Soooo awesome to feel the wind and hear the trees. I instinctively picked it up as if being cheered on by a crowd. A crowd of trees. Last interval, "ok, Lori, this is the one that counts, let's do this", "focus, focus, focus"..the trees were quiet. Just my breathing, following my breath with my steps... in in ouuuut, in in ouuuut. Everything seemed silent, just steps and breath. Arms pumping, thinking, "this is the one that really counts, the one that defines how well you managed the other 4", "hold it, hold it". Aaaand done! Hands on knees, then walk, then shuffle, jog. The sun seemed brighter. The leaves more vibrant. The wind more audible. Connected. I felt like i could hear, feel, and really see today. I hope you can too.

"Flagstaff Skyrace final is in 4 days. I won't be there. I will be here with my family as we help my mother-in-law pass this life. I made the final decision this morning, and I have a sense of relief"...I started that entry on 9/30/14, I didn't know how much time she had left. We lost her that night. I can't really put my feelings into words. Everything kinda came to a screeching halt.  We knew it was coming,  but it still felt sudden. It's also hard for me to realize the race series is over for me, the season is over. That suddenly stopped too. And I stare at the blinking cursor, lots of feelings, thoughts, emotion...no words.

as usual, it is 3:30 am post race and after several hours of trying to sleep I have given up. Small fits of sleep interrupted by dreams of rocks, roots, amazing views, the sudden catch of a toe and the sense of falling, then jerking wide awake. These post race dreams used to frighten and frustrate me, now they simply cause a sigh and sometimes a giggle reminding me of the crazy adventure I just laid out. I saw views from places that most never dare venture, and even fewer do on foot over the course of a single day. So here’s how it went for me….

Race starts in Big Sky Montana. Race directors Mike Foote and Mike Wolfe sought out to create the most difficult 50k in the U.S. Karl Meltzer’s Speedgoat has been touted as the toughest. Having done both this year, when asked which is tougher, I will say, “The one you are doing that day”. I completed this course faster than Speedgoat, but easier? Uhhhh. I did not fear for my life at Speedgoat. I did here. I am afraid of heights and spiders. Fortunately, no spiders on this course.

Race started at 6:05 am. It was below freezing and dark. I had slept well and felt well prepared for this day. We took off on the first climb. 2 miles up single track trail. Runners chatting and joking and settling in to our respective climbing grooves. A trail of headlamps lighting the way. I felt very comfortable on this climb, I knew it would be the easiest of the day. At the top we could see all of Big Sky resort area. We hit some double track dirt roads and descended down onto more single track, through tall grass, trees, and condos. People on their balconies, cheering us on as we came back down into the Madison Village area. My stomach/gut was the only problem starting to arise. Something I ate the night before or breakfast wasn’t settling well and I was starting to have mild to moderate intermittent sharp stomach and intestine pain and cramps. The jarring of running downhill wasn’t helping. I don’t think I slowed much if any, I’ve experienced this before and usually with time (or a trip to the trees) everything settles down. It was making it difficult to get calories in though. I stuck with sport drink called Tailwind, giving me about 200 calories per hour and 20 ounces of water per hour. Any sort of solid, even gels were not going to stay down.

Todd and the kids had planned to meet me at most aid stations, all except the first would require a tram or ski lift ride. Tried as we might, we could not coax our 7 year old Avery to ride the lifts, so the only aid station I would have a shot at seeing them would be the first one at mi 8. I rolled in there and filled my water bottle. The next aid station would be 4 miles away and be a water only aid station. The next full aid station would be at mi 18. No Todd or kids to be seen. I was a bit bummed, but continued on. Within a half mile there they were! I was surprised and thrilled to see them. Big hugs and kisses and on I went.

The next climb to mi 12 again would be a more gradual ascent on mostly single track through tall grass, and forest pines. I chatted some with other runners, as we passed each other going up. We hit the water only aid and I topped off and continued on up onto a dirt road leading to our first steep ascent, the Headlands section. I met a runner from Vancouver, she was having a hard time. She said, “I’m tired, I drove 20 hours and arrived yesterday”. I could tell she was worried as she was not feeling as well as she’d hoped. I told her, You have already completed the first ⅓ of the course. She looked up in shock, “Really?’. Yes really. Break it into sections. Only 2 sections left. This next ⅓ is the hardest section, it’s ok, we’re gonna be tired and it’s gonna be hard, but then the last ⅓ is all downhill except for 1 shorter steep climb that won’t be as difficult as anything we will have done. Just hunker down, and know this next section is gonna be tough. It's ok.  Once you get through it, it gets much easier. I could tell she was relieved at least a bit, and we chatted a bit more. It is a crazy thing, how your perspective changes during these long races. 1 mile can literally seem like 50. I have been on courses for 7-8 hours having run 28 miles. Knowing the finish line is only 3 miles away should bolster confidence and relief, but there have been times that the thought of running 3 more miles was overwhelmingly far and even inconceivable.

The stomach pains were increasing in frequency and severity. Fortunately, with climbing there was less jarring. I was starting to ask other runners, “do you happen to have any tums?” Nope. Climb on. “Any tums?”,  “uhh no”. Then we hit it. The headwaters section of the trail. Photo credit to Christian Griffith. See the tiny people...er...colored dots? Loose scree on top of gravel/dirt made most steps a slide and the rest a real grunt.

Painfully slow and steep. Trying not to set loose slides that would at the very least aggravate other runners behind, at worst harm them. It was cold and windy. The views were stunning and unearthly. Because of the height and the technicality, I had a hard time looking away from the scree wall in front of me. A lot of hands and feet climbing... and sliding. We finally peaked at around 10,000 ft, my sense of relief was cut short by what lie ahead. A line of runners working their way via a rope line down a crag in the mountain. The only way down. My gloves were not the grippy kind. They were ski gloves with smooth texture. I made my way down hanging on to rope and rock, knowing if I lost my footing I was going a long way down the even harder way. About halfway down, I heard “Rock!” I looked up just in time to dodge a watermelon size boulder coming at a rapid rate careening off the rocks above. I instinctively yelled “Rock!” as well, and fortunately we all avoided it somehow or other. A huge sense of relief coming off that and seein

g the single track ahead, thank goodness that is over! I thought. That sense of relief was far too short lived, as the single track was slick and steep. Very loose fine sand/gravel, mud. I slipped and slid and fell sliding on my ass many times...along with everyone else. Finally, we made it to a dirt road and we started a gradual climb up. At this point I was starting to think my stomach issues were not going to go away. Sharp pains and cramping at mile 16 had me off trail looking for trees. I know this is TMI for most,  but all who have run, short or far have or have or will likely experience GI issues on a race course at some point. It’s just part of it. Fortunately, after the call to nature,  I was feeling better and thinking that maybe I did not actually have appendicitis or some other exotic and surely life threatening ailment I had concocted in my brain over the previous 16 miles. Bad food was the least creative of ailments I had contemplated. Much more exciting to be life flighted off the mountain, rushed to surgery, and returned to the mountain in time to complete the race. That was the scenario that required the most miles to concoct...Instead, GI distress relieved by a trip to the trees, and runner returned to the course. Cross the chocolate pop-tart off the list of foods to eat pre-race. Hey... judge ye not...choices for breakfast in a hotel at 3am are quite limited and at 9pm in the convenience store, with desert on my mind, pop-tarts sounded like a good choice.

And so we climbed, up to the tram dock aid station at mi 18ish. With my GI distress relieved, I finally ate some solid food. Pringles, cola and a little water. Back dowwwwn the dirt road, mentally preparing for what I anticipated would be the most difficult climb I have ever done. The plan was for me to run this course in a way that I could really race the last 10 miles. The last 10 miles would be mostly down hill and here lies my strength. I am one hell of a slow climber (someday I will be a s

trong/fast climber), but I CAN fly downhill..the more technical the better. It’s like everything is in slow motion when I go downhill. I can see every rock and root in detail, I can gauge how it is going to move when my foot hits it and where to place my next 3 foot steps. It’s a crazy wonderful feeling.

So onward and upward. I moved slow, trying to maintain an even, steady effort without having to stop and gasp for air. Initially it wasn’t so bad. Very steep, but good footing. Then we hit the ridge, I believe it is called “bone crusher ridge”. Here lie a truly terrifying experience for me. It was mostly loose talus (think of a deep pile of broken clay pots with sharp edges in all directions, the pieces do not break when you step on them, they just slide and move). There is no “best place” to put your foot. We were getting close to 11,000 ft. The wind blowing in all directions. thousands of feet down on either side of you as you walk precariously across the spine of a mountain. This spine would narrow in to simply jagged boulders jutting up, like monsters teeth, requiring some bouldering skills I know nothing about. It’s one thing to walk across broken clay pots at 11,000 feet.  

It’s a whole ‘nuther level of crazy to cross jagged boulders with thousands of  feet drops on either side. It was at this moment I stopped. Perched on a jagged boulder, looking at numerous more jagged boulders ahead. no ropes. I froze. I couldn’t fathom moving forward. Then I suddenly remembered a good friend, James Reeves. I was suddenly back at Hobbs State Park, on the War Eagle 25k trail run. I had blown myself up running as hard and fast as I could, and I was coming up the last little bitty hill. I started to hike, my legs were jello and just had no run at that point. Out of nowhere I heard James yelling, “Enlow! get your ass up here!” I saw him and heard him on that mountain, “Enlow, get your ass up here!” and I started moving again. I knew James wouldn’t be there to greet me, but the aid station at the tippy top was a welcome substitute.  Here's Killian Jornet making it look like child's play!

GI distress gone, more pringles and cola in, and off down the other side I went. 

2-3 more miles of loose talus fields and sand down I went. I passed every single person that passed me on the way up and a few more. I started to thaw out and warm up a little as we descended. My shoes were getting loads of sand in them. At the bottom, I saw several runners emptying their shoes. I sat down and joined them and we emptied our pillage. Shoes back on and off running again. One little popper hill, then down again to mile 25.  

The final steep climb lie ahead. Andesite Mt. Fortunately, It would only be a 1 mile climb, however, it is close to a thousand foot climb over that single innocent mile. On the way up, we would have the distinct pleasure of enduring what signage says is  a “downhill only” mountain bike trail. “downhill only” and normally “no hikers allowed” because it is really

#$@! ing steep and there is no way a mountain biker can go up it….on his/her bike, and heaven help the poor hiker that  misses the sign and ignorantly tries to climb while a biker is coming down. It was muddy and slick and there were several sections that required a rope to climb. I encountered the first of these sections. “Really?” 25 miles and God only knows how many thousands of feet of vertical climbing and descending my legs have done and now I have to climb a mud hill using a rope to hoist myself? This is where I broke down and cursed the race directors. I grabbed the rope and reminded myself as I laughed, “Lori, now use your LEGS to climb, not your arms”, bwahahahaha. I believe there were 3 rope climbing sections on that course. I cursed race director Mike Wolfe on the first one, Mike Foote on the second and Karl Meltzer on the 3rd for inspiring the previous 2 to try to come up with a course more difficult than Speedgoat. . I got a little dehydrated on this climb, ran out of water, and was feeling pretty wiped out. I had 5 miles left, but of course that seemed like 500. I drank plenty of water at the aid station up top, took some ibuprofen, ate chips, drank cola. I looked back down the mountain I had just climbed and saw several girls I had played hopscotch with all day. NO WAY was I going to let them get me again! I took off down Andesite. I ran as fast as I could catching a few more runners. No sight of the girls as I looked back, but just paranoid enough to keep moving as fast as I could to the finish. Ethan and Avery caught me about ¼ mile from the finish and they ran with me, Ethan telling me to “run faster”. The crowd was amazing! They were yelling, horns blowing, cow bells ringing as we ran past, straight through the finish! 9:16 minutes and done!!!! I snagged 5th female in my age division at an international race in a climate I had only tasted at Speedgoat. What an amazing day! The most amazing race I have ever completed.

Here the kids are running mommy to the finish...

I got the opportunity to visit Tuba City, Arizona this week. Met some wonderful folks at the Tuba City Hospital. Tuba city is on the Navajo reservation, about 70 miles northeast of Flagstaff. After visiting the hospital, I drove around town, trying to plot out the next morning's run. Not much to the town, but more than many rez towns I have been to. I couldn't help but smile seeing all the dogs. Rez towns are notorious for the number of dogs roaming. Driving around reminded me of time I spent as a child living on a Northern Ute reservation.  I noticed numerous dirt trail roads heading away from the houses and out into the desert. I could see beautiful sandstone formations beyond town. Trails of all kinds into the desert beckoned. I made my way past a few houses...and dogs and found this trail.

THIS is where I will start, I thought.......

I sent a message to Shaun Martin, who knows all the rez trails like the back of his hand and he assured me to go, "just take pepper spray for the dogs" was his only caution.

Friday morning I took off just as the sun was coming up. It is Navajo tradition to run to the East to meet the sunrise. The Navajo offer prayers and yell to let the sun know of their presence and gratitude. I prayed and greeted the sun, but did not want to let the dogs also know of my presence, so I did not let out a Ayeeee! as I have in the desert before. I made my way through various types of sand...hard packed, damp, super soft beach-like and hard sandstone rock and everything in between. I followed ATV tracks, human tracks nad horse tracks, always keeping in mind the position of the sun, the time spent in this direction or that, and the location of the formations I was encountering. At times I made deep swipes in the red sand to mark a turn or signal my direction across intersecting trails. I got the impression I could run forever through the desert on those trails. It was amazing and beautify. Here are some of the pics I took....m

Well, I’m halfway there….2 races down in the US Skyrunning Ultra Series and 2 to go. I am amazed at how far I’ve come physically, mentally, spiritually... and how much further I am going to get the opportunity to go in just one summer. Besides running, life has taken a few twists and turns as well, as it does. Right now a little summer cold has me slowed down, giving me a moment or two to either get really irritated about it...or instead, eat some chicken soup in front of the space heater at work, and reflect while I wait for the next patient.

I was so afraid in April, getting ready for Cruel Jewel in May..the first of the skyrunning events. No mountains in Oklahoma to train on, no altitude training within reach, 17000ft of climbing in 57miles. I had no concept of this kind of climbing, oh, and 17000ft of descending too. My history of knee/IT issues and some niggling persistently pesky plantar fasciitis... I was afraid I either wouldn’t finish or would limp the last 20 miles and barely cross the line a survivor. I worked very hard, followed my training plan and worked my calves and feet with strength exercises and tortuous massage and core strength work- which I have yet to develop a love for! The race went like a dream. I came into aid station after aid station surprised at how good I felt...and how close I was to #1 and #2 girls. We exchanged places briefly and I got to experience racing...what I love...racing...back and forth, up and down..I was tickled pink to be racing girls number 1 and 2, but it could have been girls #51 and #52...it was the feel of racing, of knowing I was performing at my top level of fitness and smarts. I encountered problems and had to re-adjust, re-size, and re-frame things and go on..and I did. I finished exhausted and thrilled and in 3rd place, I think 7th overall.

Next, Speedgoat 50k. 11000 feet of climbing, 11000 feet of descending...add altitude and treacherous terrain...and amazing beauty! This would be the first “big race” that I would attend solo, no family or close friends with me in a place I had never been. This course is touted as “the toughest 50k in the US”. I had done more than just survive Cruel Jewel, so I had confidence that I could climb and climb and descend and descend without falling apart...I just wasn’t sure what would be in store with the ruggedness and altitude. This race delivered a whopping dose of both, but again, I was able to race smart and move well….and race! Now, I came in way down the list...like #30+ female, but I had just as much satisfaction with that finish as I did with 3rd at Cruel Jewel. This really was a brutal course, and seeing how the day played out for many, I was grateful. This one built confidence not only in my ability to climb and descend thousands upon thousands of feet, but now I knew I could do it at altitude...and race to the end. I managed my effort well enough that I flew those last few downhill miles (I’m sure it looked nothing like flying).  I am learning what I love about running and racing

So here I sit, currently in 5th position in the US Skyrunning Ultra Race Series! Kasie Enman in 4th and Ellie Greenwood in 6th.  Google those names! It may be short lived, but it sure is a hoot to see my name between those two! Here I sit, 41 year old female from Tahlequah Oklahoma, with 3 children, and a career as a nurse practitioner….in front of a space heater eating chicken soup, waiting on the next patient to be seen for the same damn virus that’s got me down. So weird and unlikely for this same person to be sitting between Kasie Enman and Ellie Greenwood, however short lived!

Looking forward, next up is The Rut, 50k in Montana, World Skyrunning Ultra Championship race. I am sooooo looking forward to what my brain and body are gonna be able to do now that I have a little more experience, smarts, and courage. I now KNOW I can climb and descend. I KNOW I can also do it at altitude...now what?  Can I put things together and take it a step further? Can I do it more efficiently?  Cant wait to see.  So here’s to the weird and unlikely!

I was nervous about how this race would go. I’ve been at altitude for over a week now, but am only 1 week post Speedgoat...32 miles with 11,500 feet of climbing...and descending. I was actually surprised at how good my legs were feeling within a few days. Tuesday, I summited Mt Elbert, adding another 4500ft of climbing in 4.5 miles.

Climbing and summiting Mt. Elbert, at 14,500ft solo was a deeply personal experience. I don’t even know if I could put it into words. I honestly don’t even want to, it was just me and the mountain.

So, on to La Maratona. Good friends Aaron and Katie were there dark and early to see me off. The race was supposed to start at 6am 7/26, but there was a delay, so we didn't actually get started until around 6:40 or so. At speedgoat I had been conservative on the climbs...they were hard, and at some points painful, but I know there were climbing sections I could have run...maybe, but chose to hike. I am learning to find a moderate climbing effort. I am still a little shy on the long climbs, not completely trusting my ability/or knowing where my ability lay. So today, the goal was to treat each climb as an individual race. 3 climbs, 3 separate races. Get to the top of the climbs as quickly as I could, taking every opportunity to run, giving those climbs a less shy effort, and recover, if I needed to going down. I just wasn’t sure what my legs were up for today. I was afraid they would tire quickly and not do well climbing...or descending. I was afraid I would end up walking the whole damn thing after 10 miles, I was afraid of blowing up. Basically, I was afraid of the unknown. I didn’t know what would happen. I also wasn’t feeling “all in” on this race at the start like I did with Speedgoat, which made me more nervous...would i have the desire to work a little harder over the duration?

We finally got started, we ran out of the Copper Mt village straight onto single track trail zig zagging up the now grassy ski slopes. It would be a 6 mi climb to Copper Mt summit. The switchbacks were relatively runnable for me. I trusted a little harder effort, and backed off when I felt like I was straining. Initially, my calves were burning quite a bit, and legs felt fatigued, but that seemed to ease once we hit a dirt road section of the climb. There were aid stations every 2-3 miles on the course. I skipped the first one at 2.5 miles and continued up. I wore my Salomon S lab race vest with a 17oz soft water bottle in the front with a product called Tailwind, a sport/eletrolyte drink. I had been sipping on that for calories/water initially. Hit the next aid station at 4 miles and refilled my now empty sport drink with water and grabbed a couple of gels for the next hour or so. At about 5.5 miles, the jeep road ended and we were back on single track steeper trail up to the summit. We crossed a rock field and a small snowy section to reach the summit at 12,400ft. My breathing wasn’t as difficult as usual at that elevation. I could tell even just 7-10 days at elevation had made a sig difference. I was also thrilled not to have the usual nausea and mild headache that typically appears. So far this year, I have tolerated and adapted to altitude better.

Time to take off down the summit! The rock field required a little slower motion, but this section was short. I felt good going down and ran well, although going down I could feel some quad soreness and a little IT soreness after a couple of miles of descending. I Hit the aid station and on to the next section, which was up just a bit then a little flat. I noticed some orange flags next to a trail sign, “fat marmot trail”. I got tickled at the title and totally missed the fact that I was supposed to turn. Went straight for another 1/4mi and realized there were no longer any orange flags. I went back and forth for about 10 minutes before realizing my mistake and heading back to “fat marmot trail” and turning. At this point there was no one around me. I started to wonder if I was on the right track. On this course there were 10 aid stations and one of them we would hit 4 different times, this was not a simple out and back course. I followed the trail back up to the aid station before the second summit of Copper Mt. I checked my distance with the aid station, they confirmed I was on target distance wise and I headed off up to the summit. I still wasn’t sure though. This was a difficult time for me. My legs were tired and I knew I had lost about 10 minutes going past the flags...then with no other runners in sight, I was fairly convinced I had just completely jacked up the course. I decided I would check my distance against the aid station again at the summit and as I went to see if by mileage I was still on track.  I realized I was distracted and not giving the race the effort I had intended. At that point I brought myself back to the race and kinda flipped a switch and got back after it. One really cool thing was seeing Stevie Kremer, female World Skyrunning Champion run! We criss-crossed paths several times on the course and it was very motivating to see her blaze past smiling and being able to encourage her and hearing her encourage me. She finished in an amazing time of 4:10..CRAZY!

Second summit down and back down, through the aid station grabbing a couple of gels and water. Tummy still doing well and even able to crave/tolerate a small stack of pringles. I was getting close to 200 cal/hr and 17-20oz water/hr. I was swelling though. I tend to have trouble with this during races. I had no trouble with this at Speedgoat, but hands were getting fat and tight today. The race would not be long enough for me to need to be concerned though and I was not feeling ill. This second descent felt pretty good, quads still mildly tender and IT bands a little tender toward end. Came through the aid station on the final climb and up I went. This was dirt road. I alternated hiking/running as I could and really tried to push effort a little knowing it was the last climb. I started seeing more runners here and had a sense of being chased, so I determined I would let loose more on the descent as it was going to be almost all downhill from there to the finish. This descent was a little more uncomfortable with quad tenderness and IT band soreness picking up a bit. I knew the soreness was temporary though, and mild enough that I was not doing any harm trying to be more aggressive on this last downhill stretch.

I finished with mixed emotions about the race. I am now quite confident I missed a section of the course. Most runners finished with distances of 28-29 miles and my watch only showed almost 26. I sent my data to the race director, who reviewed my data and replied that she thinks it’s right, but I’m pretty sure I missed some of the downhill segment after the first climb. I am pleased with my effort, I’d sure like to get better at climbing!! It’s a little frustrating..I see so many girls climbing waaay better than I, but at the same time, I see myself climbing better as well with each race. I love this type of racing and running. I feel like I have lots of room for improvement, which makes it fun. I know all things considered, I am doing well out there with these races. I’m not seeing the times I’d like yet, but I’m recovering very fast from them and hungry for the next and learning learning learning