After the race I saw this picture of me. It caused a flood of emotion.

There I was wrapped in my Cherokee blanket at the start...feeling cloaked in the love of my family, friends, colleagues, patients, and I suddenly remembered my ancestors who walked the trail. I wondered what they would think of my journey. Maybe I thought of them more because this year my race was marked by significant pain. Maybe I thought of them more because of the conversations my husband and I have had about the strength of our ancestors and our history. Maybe it's because I spend nearly 12 hours on the drive to Leadville teaching my patient pacer about tribal history from pre colonial through today's struggles. What can I say...it was a long car ride!

My Cherokee Ancestors and distinctly my great great great grandmother walked the trail of tears as a child. (I may have the number of greats wrong). As I stood at the start I thought about my excitement about my trail run and then was struck by the sufferage of theirs.  They walked a very different trail. Not one with aid stations, cheers, and warm soup awaiting them every 10 miles. No finishers medal. No pacers and crew to encourage them and coax them to finish. Nothing awaited them at the finish. The finishers were the ones who survived. Over 4000 Cherokees died on that trail. Our milestones were marked by aid. Their milestones were marked by the losses. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, infants and elderly who died or were left at this point or that.

Yet the Cherokee not only survived, they adapted and prospered.  They developed their own government and judicial system. They build male AND female seminaries... before Oklahoma ever became a state in the 1850s. Before educating women was acceptable. The civil war devastated their educational system, yet they re-opened the schools. The female seminary burned to the ground and within 2 years it was rebuilt and re opened. They overcame without hesitation and without fear.

When Oklahoma neared statehood the US federal government set about the dismantling of the Cherokee Nation's governmental and civic institutions. the Cherokee government and their educational system was systematically stripped down. The seminaries closed. The government was dissolved in 1906. The US government designated "Chiefs", usually just long enough to get them to sign treaties. The Cherokee regrouped, fought, and won the battle to reestablish their government, judicial, and educational systems and again they prospered.

I remembered this as I ran. We must teach our people how to adapt and prosper again. As a medical professional, as I sit here in Anchorage with representatives from other tribes and cultures trying to figure out how to help our people "adapt and prosper" what they have already survived, it is all coming together in my brain. The series of events..the race, which for me became about surviving, adapting, and prospering (finishing), the immediate flight to Alaska to work with those who have survived, and need help learning how to adapt and prosper, and tonight, filtering through pictures, seeing my cloak representing the strength and warmth of my ancestors and remembering what they overcame I am dumbfounded. This Leadville race became nothing about actual running or racing and everything about humanity.

My racing is showing me and those around me how to survive, adapt, and prosper. We must teach our people how to adapt and prosper. And most of all prosper!!!!!

Wow...where to begin....as I am 11 hours post race and sit on a flight to Alaska for work. 1 hour of very fitful sleep under my belt since before race start. I actually woke myself up with  legs trying to run. Scared the bejeebers out of me! I nearly jumped straight out of bed in a dead bolt! For about 3 days I will dream about running the Leadville trail, it's just part of me processing the race in my sleep...so here was my race....

Spent a week at altitude to try and acclimate hoping to get past any altitude sickness and better prepare myself for the race ahead both physically and mentally. I came into this race better prepared than last year and maybe a little more nervous. Last year it was the fear of the unknown, this year it was the fear of the known! I was nervous but more excited than anything.

This year I would be shooting for sub 25  hours. Last year my time was 28:45. I knew based on how my body deals with altitude, last year's race, and my recent race at San Juan Solstice 50 miler (big time altitude race) that this would be a good, albeit lofty goal. This would be my "cool impossible" so to speak. Altitude affects everyone a little different...as long as I take it very slow and easy I do just fine, but this would not be a slow and easy race ;). So my strategy was to prepare for everything I COULD control. My thinking was, control for everything I can, prepare for the worst so that all I have to do is focus on running, fueling, hydration...everything else would be taken care of by my crew and pacer. I must say here that I had a dream team of a crew that came through for me every aid station, every time. They were better than any indy pit crew! I had the most awesomest crew chief who just happens to be my husband Todd, Shannon McFarland was the ultimate pacer and the reason I did not DNF at Winfield.  Thank God for the last minute decision to put him there! John Nobles, the rockin' awesome runner who could not pace any due to a foot fracture, but came through at every aid station with game on. And my most cherished Cherokee crew member and inspiration, Marcella Morton. She is 62 but looks 42 and acts 32. She is one of the most beautiful, witty, friendliest running souls you'll ever meet.  I was honored to have her there, and especially honored she ran right next to me from several blocks out right through the finish line.

So the course is a 50 mile out and back. I'll just take you on my journey, aid station to aid station.....

Start to May Queen (mile 13.5) 2:21 minutes- just a couple minutes shaved off last year's split:

I tried to hop out close to front so that I could hit the single track trail in good position and not get stuck in a walk/run conga line for 13 miles. Gun fired at 4am and we were off. The first 5 miles took us through town, down paved, then dirt, then rutted out jeep road, then more dirt road until we hit the single track trail around mile 6. The conga line shuffle began. We were moving good for the most part, and I felt comfortable and not like I needed to pass anyone for some time. There was a young girl in front of me with a prosthetic R leg. I was amazed at how she handled the very rocky/rooty narrow single track trail around Turquoise Lake. I cannot even imagine. The trail hugged the crystal clear snow melt lake for the next 7.5 miles. We rolled up and down gentle climbs and descents. I focused on getting 1 gel every half hour and 1 water bottle per hour down. My tummy seemed to be doing ok, not great, but not bad.  As we got closer to the first aid station the conga line slowed a bit, not enough for me to pass, but I noticed we were going to be coming in about 10 minutes at least behind my time last year here. Hit May Queen aid and crew stripped me of my pack and refilled everything. Quick pee break at the porta potties and pack back on and off I went to work. 

May Queen to Outward Bound at mile 27 (Split here was 2:15 minutes-10 minutes slower than last year coming in):

Jumped back on single track trail huggning the lake for another mile or two, this time climbing, working our way up to the dirt road pass that would lead us all the way up from around 9,800 feet to 11,500 fett and the top of the "powerline" section. I determined I would continue to conserve here, knowing that my time might be a little slower than last year here, but hoping it would pay off. I continued to focus on fueling well. I switched from stinger gels and water to my favorite sport drink, CR 333. My goal was to get close to 1 botte (333 calories) per hour down as I went and sips of water to quench thirst.  I had a little nausea, very mild and took some tums going up. I also took an anti-nausea pill. I also wore sea bands (wrist bands that utilize pressure points) to avert nausea.... by golly I was going to do everything I could to keep from getting really sick! If someone had told me hopping on one leg while closing one nostril with the forefinger and winking every 10 seconds would help I likely would have tried that too! ;). 

Worked my way to the top of "powerline" and cinched everything up for the next 2ish mile downhill slide/run. This section is a sandy, rocky, rutted out joy ride. You can hear the power lines buzzing above you. I actually really like this section. Downhill is where I do really well and there are breaks in it, you go steeeeep down then hit a slightly less steep or flat section for a minute then back to very steep. These breaks occur about every few minutes until you get close to the bottom. Then it is just steeper and steeper sandy sliding. It's fun to watch everyone pick lines going down. It was here that Shaheen Sattar from Texas passed me. I recognized her from last year and from local races. She is an incredible runner. Friendly and FAST!  She finished second female this year!!! WAY TO GO!!  I also have to brag that I beat her at a 54k event earlier this year...ahem...she must've been having a bad day,  or ill, lol!!! I am soooo proud of how she finished!!! I know she had to be tickled to death to do so well. She was shooting for sub 25 and man did she beat that and then some! Again, thrilled to be in the ranks of such awesome regional runners.

Outward Bound (mile 24, 2 hours 24 minutes from MayQueen):

15 minutes behind last year's mark, but the aid station was a little farther as well so wasn't too worried. Still trying to be conservative. I had noticed coming off powerline and over the short road section some aches and pains were already starting to arise. These pains were ones that usually did not start until around mile 80 of my 100 milers or around mile 40 of my 50 milers.  This made me a little nervous. The next 6 miles would be on paved road, fairly flat section. I managed this stretch well, just focusing on moving well, good form, relaxed running. Hit the jeep road around mile 30 and in to the Half pipe aid station at mile 31

Half Pipe Aid station (mile 31, 1 hour 28 minute split):

This would be the only aid station where I did not have any crew. About a mile out I started my systems checks. Did I drink as much as I was supposed to?  Answer: maybe just a little under. Did I take in the goal amount of calories? Answer: maybe just a little under.  Next question...can I get something down from the aid station. My tummy was still in pretty good shape, no big time nausea so I opted to try and get a full can of ensure down. It worked. A little heavy feeling, but tolerated nicely. Refilled bottles and pack and off I went trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Aid station workers were awesome about helping with pack, getting drop bag and tending to any needs the runners had coming in. The next section would be climbing. It was a gradual climb out of the aid station. The sun was up and it was getting warm and I was sweating more. I increased my water consumption, drinking to quench thirst and trying to get 20oz of sport drink down every hour if I could. A few slow gradual ascents and descents on forrest roads and then on to the Colorado trail. This was a huge boost to me last year and felt good coming up on it again. Hitting the shaded single track soft dirt and pine needle trail is such a nice switch from the bright sun and hard packed dirt/rocky roads. Hit the mini aid station on Mt Elbert and topped off water and on I went. Once I hit the mini aid station the next 3-4 miles would be mostly descending. Great right??? Descending is where I can make up time and really put the work in. Descending is my strength. Those ache and pains that were present leaving outward bound aid station were stepping it up. In particular the R knee pain. Descending was more painful. The jarring of striking that R foot down would send sharp pain along the right side of my knee where the IT band inserts and the LCL ligament. I was starting to limp a little on my downhills.  The last mile into Twin Lakes aid station is particularly jarring and wicked with very loose rocky jeep road terrain.  I came in to Twin Lakes and Told todd to text coach and see if he had any suggestions.  I failed to do my systems check a mile out from the aid station, I was focused on my new issue with my knee.

Twin Lakes Aid Station (mile 39.5, 2 hours 20 minutes...20 minutes behind my time last year)

I was really relieved to see my crew again. I scarfed another full ensure since it seemed to sit well previously, made sure I had what I needed to get my hind end to Winfield and got outta there. I told todd to text my coach and let him know what was going on with my knee and see if he had any ideas, although I knew there really wasn't much that would help at that point, I just hoped it would not get worse. I could not be an aggressive descender now, but I figured I could still be strong and make a good finish. At twin lakes I knew my sub 25 goal was likely going to be out of reach, I was surprised a bit by my lack of disappointment. I was frustrated. I felt fantastic....I had energy to spare, I was well hydrated, feeling very well fueled, muscles wanting to go go go, but the R knee dictated a more delicate R foot strike and any attempt to just push past it really pissed it off.

So across the lowest elevation of the course I went. Leaving the aid station you go about 2.5 miles across the flats and river crossing. The terrain is single track bush-whacked trail through brush. The river crossing was easy peasy...the water was maximum knee deep on me. The icy cold water felt great on the feet and legs, I was wishing it came up over that knee.  Hit the base of hope and started climbing. Here is my weakness. I am not a bad climber for someone from Oklahoma, but not a great climber in general. Add to that my difficulty tolerating altitude and tendency to get very nauseated, the yucky headache, and problems with breathing, and.....well....I just know this is a tough section for me. One foot in front of the other...power hiking which actually looks more like shuffling up up up. 4  miles straight up. The one break I could catch was with my knee. My knee pain would disappear when I climbed. "Yay"! I thought. At least I had some reprieve and maybe giving that tendon a little break would make it settle down and tolerate things better. I fueled and hydrated well going up hoping to capitalize on the 3 miles of downhill trail on the other side of Hope. Here is where the lead males started passing us on their return from Winfield. AMAZING!!!! Great to see these guys fly! Got to see Scott Jurek which geeked me out a bit. All of the front males cheered us on just as much as we cheered them. Their pacers really cheering us on. That was soooo inspirational to be cheered on by famous racers and their pacers! I expected them to be so focused on their own races/racers that they would not even acknowledge me, but all of them...every last one did. SOOOOOOO cooooool!!! It made me work harder going up. Made it to 12,600 feet the "hopeless" aid station.

Hopeless Aid station (mi 44.5, 30 minutes behind my split last year...uh oh)

I think I came out of the aid station slower than last year and probably moved across the flats slower with the aches and pains, but felt like my ascending was at least as good as last year if not a little better. So, quick lesson on the Hopeless Pass Aid station. For them to have an aid station at the top of hope pass one would think no big deal. However, there is no way for a motorized vehicle to get up the trail. So how do you get enough aid for 900 runners to the top of hope pass?  Horses? nope...a horse cannot take the stress.  Answer? Llamas. They pack llamas down and hike them to the top of the mountain and viola! I must say it is a strange sight to suddenly see a bunch of llamas around the fire at 12,600 feet. You have to take a second and ask yourself if you are hallucinating.  I touched one, ...nope...he's real! I grabbed a quick cup of broth and off I went down the other side.

At first no knee pain...for about 1/8 mi. Then it whined and within the first mile the pain was so sharp and so severe that I had to stop at the end of one of the switchbacks and try to compose myself for the next several switch backs. I started also getting sharp shooting pain behind my R hip and the pain was radiating and meeting down the  side of my quad. Every once in a while I would strike a rock just right and it would crumple me. I could hear myself yelp....and so could those around me. Several would stop and ask if I was ok. I would raise my hand with a universal "ok" sign and wave them on. This was the first time I started looking at my watch. Bad idea. I was seeing my downhill pace go to pure crap. I was rocking a 25-30 min mile...downhill...in what felt like a run, but must have looked more like a gimpy limpy walk. I started to think....It is a bad idea to start "thinking" at mile 47....it is always better to "don't think, just do" You train so you don't need to think, all of the critical information is programmed in...So I started calculating based on my watch...calculating....if I go at a 25=30min downhill pace on all of the downhill sections my finish time will be.....Well over 30 hours. That won't work. I stop thinking and start running again. And over and over I would hit a rock just right and the knee would crumple me. After 3 miles of 30 minute downhill miles, I lost it. I hit the end of a switchback and stepped off the trail and sobbed. Several runners stopped to try and help. I let them know I was ok, just needed a minute or two to pull it together. I lied. I was falling apart. I had no desire to "pull it together". I was bewildered, pissed off and in a lot of pain. I looked at my watch again and fully believed it was over.  Tom Lane, a friend and runner from Arkansas passed me coming up. We chatted for just a few. He was doing very well. I informed him I didn't think I was going to make it. I was soooo happy to see him looking so well at that point. I had complete confidence he was going to do great. I told him, "I'm not going to make it, take it in for me".

Once I got to the base of the backside of hope and the trail became more undulating, I was able to increase my pace and clip off some miles that would get me to Winfield before the time cut off. I must admit, I was in many ways wishing to miss the cutoff, but I couldn't convince myself to take it a step further and decrease my effort, to allow myself to miss it. So I gave it every ounce I had, conserving just enough to give the knee a breather but not not an ounce less. Trying to find that line was tough. Trying to push the pace enough and find a level of pain I could deal with for another 12-13 hours without blowing the knee up. It was also tempting to just hammer it and quit when the knee would no longer take it. In other words end my race by being stupid and arrogant. I really just wanted to end my race.  So in to the 50 mile aid station at Winfield I went, with all those happy thoughts! I weighed in 2 pounds heavier than I started...uhh can you say retaining fluid?  I had man-hands ;), my face was swollen. I must have looked horrible. There was John Nobles my broken footed friend and my pacer Shannon McFarland. It was a last minute decision to put my pacer at Winfield. I had decided it would be better to start him at mile 60. I wanted him fresh and ready because my plan was to conserve well on the first 50, hit 50 miles at around 11 to 11.5 hours and then really go to work the back half. I told Shannon I did not think my knee was going to handle the downhill toward twin lakes. He insisted we continue on and see how my knee did. I was pretty sure, based on my splits coming over hope that I would miss it. I really did NOT want to ascend and descend hope pass only to miss the cutoff at twin lakes. Shannon really didn't give me a choice and I didn't have the strength or guts to argue with him there. I also still believed just a little that it miiiiight be possible.

I left the 50 mile mark at Winfield at over 13 hours...just 45 minutes, I think, ahead of the time cut off. We moved fairly slow and hiked up the backside of hope. We passed many racers that would miss the cutoff at Winfield, one a good friend Aaron Ochoa. A really good runner from Oklahoma and a good friend. I trudged up and Shannon stopped to chat with Aaron for a few and then joined back up. I lead the climb. I gave every switchback up everything I had. The knee pain magically subsided. The hard part here was the nausea, splitting headache, and breathing. But I was also taking in calories and water aggressively knowing that I would need every ounce of energy...for the physical work ahead, but even more for the mental work ahead. If I got bonky on top of my pitiful knee? I would end up a blubbering mess that might just actually convince my crew I was too far gone to continue. The descent down hope going in-bound was not as bad. It is not as steep and I was able to speed up quite a bit, at this point I was really focusing on my foot strike and balance, again, trying to conserve and regain some ability in that knee.  By 2/3 of the way down the pain became excruciating again. I was so glad to hit the bottom of hope, to end the descent. Across the flats we went in the dark...We did not pack headlamps at Winfield..we just never thought it would possibly be that late or dark coming back in to twin lakes. As we came close to town, spectators used their lamps and flash lights to light our way. They cheered me on, encouraging me and telling me how well I was doing. I was grateful.

"Perform" became my mantra. The word "perform" took on a whole new meaning at that point. My coach, throughout training would always tell me to perform. He would say, "I want to see you perform'. I always equated performance with the outcome.....time in particular. If I hit my splits, then I "performed". If I missed my splits, or my times weren't as good as I thought they should be, then I didn't "perform". At mile 50 I started to "perform". I focused even harder on doing everything I could to get the most out of my legs. I wanted to just drop my fueling and hydration, I mean really, what's the point? I'm going to eventually miss a time cutoff, right?  We all know the farther you go into a 100 miler, the more you slow down. Now there are rare exceptions. But consider this. In the 30 years this race has been held, unless I am mistaken, there has only been one person to have a negatie split...meaning that he did not slow down the last 50 miles, he actually sped up. So I knew a negative split would be unrealistic and the odds were surely not in my favor to finish under 30 hours. It really just should not have been possible. Well, i'll be a monkey's uncle if I didn't widen that cutoff window just a bit coming back into Twin Lakes. I was now at one hour under cutoff. I must say there was a twinge of disappointment here too, the desire to quit was strong and there was a very small part of me that wished I would just miss the ?$%!ing cutoff so I could go to bed dammit!

Twin Lakes (mile 60, 1 hour 30 minutes...3 minutes faster than last year-wha? Huh?)

I looked at my crew, Todd, Marcella, John. I told Todd... "I have tons of energy, I am hydrated and fueled...I just can't get this knee to cooperate!!!" It was very frustrating. I knew I could do more, I just couldn't do more...ya know?!! I completely changed into dry clothes and added layers here and off we went. It's another pretty steep climb out of Twin Lakes going home. 3-4 miles of climbing with very short descents. Those descents were painful though. As we were getting close to half pipe aid station I was watching things fall apart again. My climbing was not great and on my descents I was rocking a 25-30 min mile pace...not good enough in my brain. I was convinced this would not get me to the finish in under 30 hours. I started thinking about how I had a flight to catch right after the race and if I just quit now, I could at least get a little more sleep before going to the airport. In my mind there was no sense in just prolonging the torture, I sure as hell wasn't doing my knee any favors, right? Why tear up my knee for another 10 miles to miss the next cutoff? I was also feeling bad for my pacer Shannon. Ugh, to have to trudge at a turtle pace mile after freaking mile in the 30-38 degree temps only to get cut off at an aid station? It was then that I thought....Shannon can run ahead...go find Tom Lane, who had no pacer, and help him finish. At least Tom had a shot at finishing was my thought. Why pace someone who is going to miss a cutoff when there is someone out there who can actually finish if they had a good pacer? I'd like to say these thoughts were a selfless attempt to help another runner. In reality they were thoughts geared toward ending my pain. With no pacer I could quit without getting scolded. So for about the next 15 minutes as Shannon is chattering, "you are doing great", "blah blah blah", "you can do this", "blah blah blah", "you beat the next cutoff and you'll be on the flat road and you'll be able to run well", "Blah blah blah'. I was getting irritated with his optimism.

I spent a fair amount of time formulating in my brain the words to present a compelling case for Shannon so he would leave me the ?$%^ alone and I could quit this race without an audience. I was so well fueled and hydrated that my ability to be manipulative and sneaky was quite good! I was impressed with my strategy. I thought I would outsmart Shannon.....So I present my case. It went something like, "Shannon, look....my knee is shot (and it was), I cant descend....my pace is....we both know I'm eventually going to miss the cutoff.....You have the potential to help Tom...The odds of him finishing his race solo is.....You can do him more good than you can do me....The whole time in my brain I was thinking, "Go away, PLEASE!, I don't want anyone to see me quit! There was also a significant amount of fear coming into this section because of last year. I nearly froze to death between half pipe aid station and outward bound at mile 76. Honestly. I got so cold last year. I was disoriented and weaving, vomiting, stumbling into outward bound aid station. I spent a loooong time in that aid station last year. I did not want a repeat of that adventure.

Well needless to say, I was not nearly as sly as I thought I was, and he refused to leave me. Tensions rose, he chewed me out. I told him in no uncertain terms, with curse words flying out of my mouth faster and with better flow than the raunchiest rapster, just where he could go and the roadmap to get there.  In addition, I would kick his ass so hard he would not need a pacer or need to worry about missing time cutoffs getting there. So we hobbled on in the cold darkness. We arrived at half-pipe aid station, grabbed soup, topped off bottles and off we went again.

Half Pipe Aid Station: mile 70.9 (2 hours and 52 minutes) 30 minutes slower than last year. 

This section did prove again to be tough for me as you read the above and the miles went by very slowlyl

I did seem to tolerate the flatter road section better and started clicking off faster miles. The jeep road/forrest road was painful, but not too bad. Hit the road and continued on. I was relieved to find my knee tolerating the road ok, still much slower than I wanted, but not as slow and excruciating as I had imagined.  We seemed to get to outward bound relatively quick

Outward Bound: mile 76, 2 hours and 6 minute split, still about 10 minutes behind last years split here.

Moving very slow, but still moving I came in here. let the medical personnel get a hold of my feet and tape up some blisters. Changed shoes out here, chatted with the aid staff and drank more soup. Spent about 15 minutes here. Made sure I had enough layers, plenty of sport drink, gels, water and pacer!!  It was at this point I was starting to think we may actually make it in under 30 hours. I was very focused at this point, despite and maybe even "in spite of" my desire to quit and the pain I wanted this race to be marked by my commitment to my plan. It was here in those 15 minutes I looked back over the race I had run. I gathered strength knowing and feeling that I had given every fiber of myself up to that point. At no point, did I ever slack off, back off, or give less than my best effort.  I wanted to many times, I wanted badly to quit and there were many many times I didn't think I was going to make it, but despite those feelings I never backed off. If I could push harder at any point I did. I only backed off when the pain forced it and when it would relent I would push harder again. What I was seeing happen was I would push hard and get slammed with pain that would cripple me down to a crawl, then the pain would subside, I would pick back up and push harder until the pain would cripple me back down. I could see this strategy was not working well to get me in under cutoff.  So I started conserving more this next section, see if I could move overall a little slower, but at the same time, in doing so, avoid the crippling pain and have an overall faster split. I started to test this out leaving  Outward bound headed toward mayqueen.

MayQueen: mile 86.5, 3 hour 33 minute split....almost an hour and a half faster than last year!

Whelp, obviously this strategy worked.  Also this was the point last year where I spent a great deal of time in warming bags suffering from hypothermia, so also have to take that into account. I was smart this year. I did NOT get cold. I WAS prepared for the cold. Many others weren't. Lots got very cold and were on cots in bags trying to warm up. 

Leaving outward bound aid station toward mayqueen I started running a little slower than on previous attempts. I speedwalked the uphills and did not power down the downhills...I tried to keep a smooth even pace on the road section before hitting powerline. Powerline would be about a 2 and a half mile climb to 11,500 feet...starting at around mile 88 on the course. Steep sandy slide with deep ruts/ravines. We found a pace I could maintain without having to stop with hands on knees every few minutes like last year. I worked that uphill section as best I could. The knee eased up and we were moving!  We passed many runners here. We caught up to another runner and his pacer. My pacer Shannon and his pacer struck up a conversation ahead of myself and the other runner.  It was funny. They were about 15 feet ahead of us, chattering away like two little girls. The other runner and I were shoulder to shoulder with similar breathing and effort. We struck up a much less enthusiastic conversation. I leaned over and said, "I guess we're not all that entertaining eh?".  He chuckled, and replied, breathing hard with the weak monotone voice we had both developed, "yep".  After another minute or two, he said in that weak monotone voice, "We could throw rocks at them".  After a few huffs and puffs, I replied in my weak monotone voice, "yep".  I felt like we actually drew strength from eachother, we  were side by side, totally understanding eachother, like on a tandem bicycle, pedaling at the same foot turnover, breathing at the same cadence, swinging our arms together, just simply understanding eachother...and getting a kick out of listening to our pacers chitter chatter. Poor things, they had been stuck for hours and hours with two Eeyores from Winnie The Pooh.

Powerline has numerous false summits. You crest a section and have a brief flat followed by another climb. Last year these frustrated me, I kept thinking I was at the top, only to find another climb ahead.  This year I knew they were there and I took advantage of them. Shannon and I debated briefly whether or not to run these very short flat sections. We decided my pace was good enough that we ought to just conserve energy and stress on the knee and continue to hike through them not risking further knee injury that might slow me down or stop me. We had to keep in mind I still had 15 miles to go and blowing out my knee now would make for a really disappointing DNF. We decided that as long as we could get me in under 30 hours we would not chance our luck trying to push for a better time. This strategy saved my knee and I think is the only reason I made it through the finish under the cutoff. We were cutting along at 14-18 minute miles.  Previously I would push and run an 11 minute mile at best and within a mile or less be crippled down to a 25 minute mile limpy creep and the average would be a slower overall pace. So basically I was moving faster walking than I was trying to run.

We hit the top of powerline and I think we did end up jogging down to the trail, but I can't remember. This section was dirt road and easier on my knee. I was very nervous about the trail going around turquoise lake. It is very technical and I knew my knee would probably not like it going up, down, sideways, backwards, fast, slow, whatever. I was afraid I wouldn't even be able to walk this trail without severe sharp pain.  I was wrong. I think because we gave my knee such a nice long break going uphill on powerline and veery easy jog down the dirt road, the tendinitis in my knee settled just a bit. We power walked our way across those rocks and roots and my knee stayed at a low hum. We passed several runners. We came into Mayqueen having increased our gap to the cutoff to around an hour or maybe a little less. One precious hour under the cutoff.

MayQueen to Finish line 3 hour 26 minute split...30 minutes faster than last year:

The torch was passed from Shannon to Todd. Todd would now pace me in. We were all still very nervous about whether or not I would make the cutoff. We still had 8 miles of technical single track around the lake and then a steady 6 mile slow uphill to the finish. Neither making for easy/speedy miles. after 90 miles down. Marcella Morton and John Nobles, my crew were rocking. John loaded me down with chocolate chip cookies in my pockets and Marcella had my bottles and clothing readied. It was the quickest pit stop change of all. We had to get me outta there to have a shot. Todd lead the way. It took him a little while to figure out my pace and where to hang in front of me, but it wasn't long before we were in a groove. We passed many more runners and pacers, encouraging eachother and reminding eachother we were going to make it, that this one was almost in the books. I knew some of the people we passed early on were not going to make it, and that saddened me. To come so far and not make the 30 hour cutoff.  This kept me motivated to move as fast as I could. After about 5 miles Todd started asking me if I could go faster.  I was giving him everything I had. I couldn't move any faster. I didn't really understand....I was worried we were getting farther behind.  He finally spoke up and said, "You know, it's gonna be close, but I think you can beat your time from last year". For the first time in hours and hours my voice actually had emotion... I let out a high pitched, "Really?!" I couldn't imagine that I had made up enough time to come close to last year's finish. I thought he had miscalculated, or was lying.  Nope, he was convinced he was right. I still did not believe. We made it to Tabor boat ramp. 7.5 miles to the finish. We recalculated...Todd was figuring right, we might could get close to last year's time. My speedwalk came to life!  I even jogged a little, but this was really becoming too painful and again if I jogged, I would end up limping slowly for a ways after resulting in a slower overall pace, so speedwalk it was. My arms were swinging my hips were swinging. I had never speedwalked before, but by God I was doing it now! 

I had forgot about the 1 terrible descent left...at the end of the turquoise lake trail there is another baby "powerline" section. It follows a powerline down about 1/8 mile. Extremely wobbly loose grapefruit size rocks, almost a ravine down. Shit.  It hurt like hell going down that on my knee. There was no easy way about it. The steep grade dictated a stutter run pace. You couldn't walk down it if you tried. It took me about 1/8 mile of severe limping to get back to a speed walk. Recovered we power walked and talked about how close we were getting. Todd more and more convinced I could beat last year's time. My crew was supposed to meet me at 1 mile out and we were all going to run in together. We hit the 1 mile mark and no crew. I was grinning ear to ear..."Todd...they aren't expecting me yet are they?  They think I'm farther back".

This made me feel good. We worked hard and made up enough time that even my crew didn't anticipate me getting there that soon.  At this point Todd told me, "If you can run down 6th street, you WILL beat your time from last year.  Problemo. I had to pee. If I ran down 6th street I would pee all over myself and I was NOT going to have that happen even if it meant not beating my time. I spotted a porta potty. "Todd, if I can go pee, I can run down 6th street". He replied, "you've got 2 minutes". I said, "I only need one". Came out of the porta potty and started running. John, Marcella, and Shannon joined us at the top of 6th street, 4 blocks from the finish and we ran. Someone was playing the theme from Rocky. It was hilarious!  I felt like Rocky!  I still did not believe I was going to beat my time from last year. I still thought Todd was just trying to juice every ounce of effort out of me.  We hit that finish line and I immediately turned to the clock. 28:40.  My time last year? 28:45.  I did it!!!!!!!! My goal was sub 25 hour....before the race that was my "cool impossible". The race itself became my Cool Impossible. And I accomplished my Cool Impossible!

Well, months and months of training done. "Hay is in the barn" as coach would say. Race meeting over, drop bags dropped off. Now just eat sleep and run at 4am! I feel much better this year, know the course, know my plan, feel as prepared as I can be. So nice to feel like all I have to do is run. Everything else is programmed in my brain, in my crew's brain...and..well.. written in permanent ink on my forearms ;)

I know there will be issues and surprises to work through, ones maybe I worked through last year, and likely new ones I've never encountered before, but again, a familiar phrase comes to mind..."and this is why we race...". I don't know the outcome if I did, why would I do it in the first place? The unknown. We can embrace it or run away from it. Tomorrow I will embrace it. Am I afraid? You bet! I should be, and that's ok and healthy, it will help me be smart and attentive and focused.

The thing I desire most to get out of this race is to learn and grow. And that's a given, it will happen. I will get to learn and grow in ways that most never know, it will create new depths of character and strength, humility and understanding. The bonds that develop between myself, my crew, and total strangers just simply cannot be explained in words. Thank you to all of them.

Ben Brewer-you are in my thoughts and prayers as well on your journey, I will think of you often on mine. Godspeed to you my friend!

Margot-It was a HUGE  boost to see you today! It was like a good luck charm to catch you. I'm not sure why it made such an impact on me, but just really boosted my confidence and peace. Peace with you and Pam!

Breathing the high mountain air, even coffee tastes better at altitude ;)

Enjoy some pics! 6 days to race!

Avicii – Wake Me Up

Check out the song....the video is pretty cool too

Except instead of ...."They tell me I'm too young to understand..." I feel like, "They tell me I'm old enough to know better".

With 2 weeks to the race I've been training for all year, this is the point where I get pretty self absorbed, think lots about running, racing, life and everything seems too apply to what i'm thinking, doing, feeling. Pretty arrogant eh? I joke, but half serious too. This is also the point where I start questioning myself. I'd like to say it's because this is also the time that everyone but a small handful of people start questioning me and letting me know how crazy they think my running is. And it would be ok, if they thought it was crazy in a cool sort of way.  The older adults in my life start offering their criticism guised as concern. Comments like, "So after this are you going to settle down?".  They ask Todd, "So, what's she going to do after this?"  ..like I've had some sort of midlife crisis and now that I have bought a proverbial race car will I be satisfied? Friends and acquaintances my age hide their jealousy in statements like, "What does your husband and kids think of your running?". The hardest part is not what they say, It's what I see in their faces, under their expressions. I see the disapproval, jealousy, and even animosity? And I start to feel guilty for this "craziness". The only ones I see true understanding and genuine happiness and enthusiasm  in their faces are the young, my husband and kids, the employees at the restaurants I go to, the gas station clerk, and other ultra runners. I get the most criticism from the people I spend 60% of my life with...my colleagues and staff, they are the ones who offer the most critical digs (except my nurse whose eyes light up when I talk to her about running). Maybe I'm just too sensitive right now.   Anyway....I love this song ;)

Running is my artistic outlet. I can create the most amazing pieces. Filled with passion and joy, frustration, peace....emotions so vivid and all consuming at times, and at times wild and incredible and wonderful. I can create and it just flows. This evening was full of reds and oranges and a little purple.  not only was the sky and the hues around me this color, but the hues within me and my effort and emotion. Strong and willful. A little defiant. Passionate. ....and when all said and done a painting full of me. If you want to see who I really am, watch me run.

Leadville training day 3...a true adventureTuesday's agenda was to run from the base of sugarloaf pass to twin lakes...27 miles. This was the monster I created in my mind. This was the hardest section for me last year.  Each direction.  Leadville race is 50 miles out and back.  Where we would start would be around mile 15 from the start. After my near implosion on Monday and flurry of emails to coach..we decided a phone call was in order.  I couldnt seem to change my perspective on what this section was going to be like. I thrashed my legs sunday and monday trying to push myself too hard, and I was physically, mentally, emotionally spent. It was a depth and a sense of dread I dont know that I have ever experienced before. Before, and during the first half of my conversation with coach I kept wishing he would say, "hey, you know what, you are spent, lets change this run, lets shorten the miles." Thank God he didnt. Both my coach and my pacer wanted to see me accomplish this course.  They could both see I needed to get past this.  I needed to do this run. By the last half of the conversation I was actually starting to believe I might survive this run. My biggest fear was that I would fall apart physically at mile 15....smack in the.middle of nowhere with no way of getting off the course but to go near 15 miles on foot in either direction. My legs were and are more fatigued than they have ever been at a point in training, and quite possibly in racing, where I still have so many more miles to put on them. Waaaaaaa.So enough whining. The only way I could believe I could complete this one was to make it as easy as possible. Oh, I also have to.mention my near fatal error.  I only brought one pair of trail shoes. I've put a ton of trail miles on em, including 3 ultra races. The last one had seemingly a million river crossings. The soles, I hadnt noticed, were separating form the toe and forefoot...bad. By the time I finished monday's night run, they were separated all the way to the mid foot. Too dangerous to continue on. I reaaaally did not want to spend a bunch of money on trail shoes I would wear for 3 days, but there was no way I'd be able to continue on these. So hit the outdoor adventure store and sure enough the shoes I would need were $120-$150. The only style she had that fit my feet were $150. I told the clerk my situation and she said there was a thrift shop down the way that often had running shoes. Worth a shot. Got there. Found the same $120 pair of shoes for $13. Except they were size 11, I wear size 8. Put em on and they felt great..just extended about an inch past my toes. I went for it. Started at the base of sugarloaf and we hiked to the top, 11,500 feet. I was feeling pretty good. Conserved well.  Hit the top of the infamous powerline. It is a two mile down a sandy, rutted out slide. Me and my ronald mcdonald shoes. Sure enough, about a mile down powerline, I tripped, landing on my left knee, hands, elbow, hip...an impressive 3-4ft slide anyway. Lots of strawberries. Needless to say, I was a bit pensive the rest of the way down, actually, the rest of the run. Remaining so aware of one's feet is mentally tiring. I did like the look of my new shoes, pink and yellow. I watched them intently as I passed over the terrain. Got to fish hatchery. The next 7-9 miles would be paved, then dirt, then forrest road until hitting the colorado trail. This is all reaaaally runnable. No hills to hike, no downhills to cruise.  One would think this would be the BEST part of the run. It would if it were the first part of the run, with fresh legs. Running Leadville last year, many runners were surprised and perplexed by how much focus this section took to remain running. I anticipated this. I got deep inside myself on this section and focused on the grain of the pavement and my breathing rythm....still sounding somewhat like a pregnant yak in labor. I had my pacer in front of me focusing on everything else...traffic, when to turn...As my kindergarten teacher once told me to do...I put my head down and colored hard. I was covering the miles well here. We got to the forrest road and pulled out the map so we could make sure we zeroed in on where we would meet the colorado trail. On the map it looks like you just take road 130 and hit the trail. The map didnt show 130a, 130b, 130c or 130d.  We had to guess.  We guessed wrong. We continued on forrest road until it became blatantly obvious we were nowhere near the colorado trail. We came to a ridge. Could see hope pass and orient ourselves to where twin lakes (and our car) would be.  Which would be straight across orivate land to the dirt road about a mile or so down the ridge and across a marsh. My pacer, the smarter one was a bit pensive about crossing barbed wire private property with potentially unruely bulls. I was derermined. I was actually a little afraid. I knew we still had plenty of daylight, but if we continued endlessly on intersecting forrest roads and it got dark we would be in for a real treat. As we traversed we nervously joked about land owners with guns...surely they wouldnt shoot a wee little girl in bright pink? And cows aren't aggressive beasts right? Is that fence electical? As we got into marsh with hip high grass I was more concerned about the serious threat of anacondas. Much more real a threat than any aforementioned...right? I mean who really knows for sure there aren't anacondas in colorado, with so much unexplored land? A cold weather cousin maybe? We hit the dirt road safe and sound and continued on. It seemed like forever before we made it back to twin lakes, but we did. We covered the same exact miles as was on the agenda almost on the nose. All resteraunts were closing now. 25 mile drive to leadville for groceries and dinner at 11:30 pm. I finished the run feeling good. I conquered the beast in my brain and had quite an unexpected adventure. It was a good day. Sent via the Samsung GALAXY S™4, an AT&T 4G LTE smartphone

Late night last night, but ate smart and stuffed myself with fish, potatoes and green beans knowing today would not be easy. Yesterday's success, even with the altered course, was a huge confidence booster. Woke up with nausea, forced down a blueberry muffin and water and we were off to ascend hope pass again this morning. 11ish miles round trip. Legs heavy. Worried about being able to pick up new kicks over rocks and roots coming down. The confidence I had from yesterday's run disappeared as soon as I parked the car and looked up at hope pass. Immediately filled with fear.  I tried to call coach. I wanted out of this run. I was hoping he'd let me out. Fortunately he didnt answer.  Why am i so afraid? What is wrong with you? Lori, you ran Leadville 100 last year...in 28 hours. You have put less miles than that spread out over 4 days. The fear made me more fearful. I got up off the curb and we started. We moved running slowly across the flat to the base of hope. My goal was to take it easy going up. Not push so hard and not worry about my pace. For the first time on this trip I listened. I opened my eyes and my heart and listened to the mountain, to nature. She was telling me to look around. The temperature was in the 40s with a slight breeze. The trail, the trees, the bright white and yellow butterflies were telling me to relax and enjoy. The butterflies teasing me to come further. We hit the base of hope. I looked down at the rocks and roots and pine needles. The mountain said, "i'm not going to hurt you, lets enjoy eachother's company". I found a rythm and climbed. It was slow, but I was determined not to care. I wouldnt look at my watch..my heart rate, my pace, the time. I fueled and hydrated aggressively.  I would open 1 gel every 20 minutes and slowly take it in over that time. My pacer encouraged me to try this to see if I could get more steady energy and reduce nausea and gut cramping. It worked pretty well. I hydrated well going up. It seemed like it took forever to get above treeline, but we did. Started at 9200 ft and peaked at 12600 ft. Felt much better today. No sense of "altitude sickness". Breathing still kinda nutty, but better than previous days. Turned around and cruised down. Kept it easy making sure I was focusing not hooking those ronald mcdonald length shoes on rocks or roots. I did good. Made it to the bottom and ran to the river crossing. Daaaaang cold hip deep crossing and back to car. Confidence building. 89 miles in 4 days.Sent via the Samsung GALAXY S™4, an AT&T 4G LTE smartphone

Driving in the car, post run headed for food or something, I don't quite remember what...Here it comes..I'm emailing my coach back and forth, talking to my pacer, completely physically and mentally exhausted. Wanting to cry, but not feeling like I can...wanting Calgon to "take me away", an alien to abduct me from the next  few days of running, or Scotty to "beam me up". I was going to implode because I knew no one was going to rescue me. I knew my exhaustion was my own damn fault.

I now had seemingly endless miles ahead of running, breathing hard, trying to find peace, panicking, walking, eating disgusting gels or choking down sport drink intermingled with brief periods of good meals and beautiful views and good company.  I was struggling, and darn near wigging smooth out. We had ascended Hope pass, down the other  side, back up and over back to twin lakes, 17 ish miles and 8,000 to 9,000 feet of climbing. We were headed to eat before starting a nighttime 12 mile run around turquoise lake. It was also raining. Im scared of the cold. I got to some pretty wicked levels of cold last year during the race, hence the planned nighttime run to dial in on what layers I would need.

So, Hope pass ascent. I hiked hard the whole way up, breathing hard, moving insanely slow and on the verge of blowing up. We got to the top and it was amazing. I will post pics as soon as I can. Down the backside toward Winfield felt good. Easy descending, easy breathing but sensing dread knowing I would have to turn around and go back up and experience the misery again.....wait a minute....I COULD TRYYYYY not to let it be miserable. I told my pacer..."I really want this to be a good day...I need a good day." He was FINALLY fairly tired himself, he had not fueled well going up hope and for a brief moment thought he had lost the car keys which wasted huge amounts of energy...Nothing like losing your keys in the middle of the Colorado rockies...odds of finding them? 0.  Fortunately, he had them in a pocket. I wasn't the least bit worried about the keys, I was worried about the climb.  So back up we went. I slowed my ass down and relaxed and actually enjoyed much of the ascent...I was so grateful.  We got to the top and down we went, my legs a little jello-y, but still a pretty relaxed and easy 3 - 4 miles straight down hope.  I was exhausted by the time we hit the cabin. We rested and off to dinner where I almost melted completely down.

We ate an awesome amount of food which energized me for a bit then settled into a serious desire to just go to sleep. I became almost deliriously tired. I couldn't think straight. Tried to leave the cabin for the night run without my pack. I had little sense at that point. 9:30 ish we hit turquoise lake. Big dinner still digesting. Within the first 0.8 miles I dry heaved several times. At exactly 0.8 miles, I told my pacer, "I'm done, I want to go to bed". "I can't do this".  I then made the stupid comment, "Well maybe if I could just throw up, I'd feel better and be able to continue". I picked the wrong pacer...I was hoping for, "no, your done". I got, "that sounds good, I always feel better after I throw up". @#$%!. Okay, so on we went. Belly eased up and dinner stayed down. I kept it intentionally slow and easy and it paid off. I came back to life, and actually felt good. Felt like a nice shake-out kinda run...until about 6 miles when we turned around. The fatigue started kicking back in. I was trying to get more calories down, but dinner was still pretty heavy on my belly. I hydrated well. We moved slower going back, walking any kind of incline. It was fairly technical. I tripped quite a bit, but never fell. Each mile seemed like 2, but we got back to the car in pretty decent shape. Got in the car and every muscle screemed. I could barely get out of the car when we got to the cabin. Went to sleep at 2am, restless night, and up at 7...cabin too light to go back to sleep. So Tuesday's run would be 27 miles. I realized, hopefully not too late that I was killing myself unnecessarily. I was going at it too hard and not listening to my body well and making my runs easier. I can't tell you how much I dread 27 miles. In my minds eye it seems like 50. It's like some sort of time/distance warp where everything is magnified and I can't seem to put it in perspective. I am physically exhausted. Learn and grow...learn and grow...

Headed to Leadville on Saturday to start 4 days of training for the upcoming Leadville 100 trail run. Figured I'd blog each day out.

Agenda for Sunday was 20 miles of trail heading out from Twin lakes toward Half Pipe Aid stations. 3000 ft of gain. Started out feeling pretty good. Hiked the first 2 mile climb out. Pretty short of breath going up. Descending felt great. We missed the turn we were supposed to take and descended another half mile before realizing our error. Back up the half mile and then more ascending. Beautiful views of the twin lakes a thousand feet below with some low lying clouds and impressively bright double rainbow over the lakes. The ascending brought me right back to San Juan. My breathing was way harder than it should have been, way harder than my pacer. I determined I obviously have some lung defect....maybe my parents heavy smoking, God knows what, but I noticed my low land compadres don't seem to struggle to breathe like I do, which was frustrating...something is wrong with me I would think, I'm just not very tough I would think. Within a brief period of time the nausea kicked in. And it was a slow hard hike. Why the #$%! is my breathing so hard. My pacer who is from Arkansas is chatting as we climb Downhills were fabulous, flats ok, and any incline triggered a breathing pattern similar to a pregnant yak in labor. I'm struggling to breathe. Thinking I have no choice but to acknowledge the situation and just give every moment of uphills  my best(my strongest effort). The downhills I kept relaxed and easy. I worked hard at staying hydrated and taking in calories though I did not want to eat. We went through some amazing aspen groves and caught some amazing views. Monday we ascend hope pass. I will take my camera for sure. Feeling good and hopeful for better ascending tomorrow.

3 am addendum: Not sleeping well, nauseated, resting heart rate 90.

After my 5 hour, 26 mile waaaambulance ride Saturday I returned to the hotel room pretty seriously defeated feeling.  The plan was to stay the weekend and run Turkey Mt again Sunday. I think I mentioned I'd rather eat a box of rocks than spend another hour in Turkey Mt... I decided I'd head back home and venture out early, the other direction to Hobbs State Park trails in Arkansas. My feet killed me all day saturday, felt like someone had taken a hammer to them. I was seriously dreading Sunday. I couldn't imagine that after 5 hrs of feeling so rotten and feet really hurting, that the very next day 3 hrs on trail would feel any better. I was nervous, would I quit? I called my pacer for Leadville.  Hobbs State Park is his back yard..."Hey Shannon, I know its last minute, but you up for a 3 hr run at 5:30 tomorrow?". "I'm in". I was grateful for company. The agenda called for running some "sustained climbs". Getting my heart rate into middle upper zones and maintaining it through the climb. Uhm..remember I never once made it out of lower zones no matter what I tried yesterday...not once over 5 hrs..not once over 26 miles? I woke up at 2am with dread. I was afraid I would fail miserably again Sunday...and what would that mean if I kept failing..what would happen at Leadville? Instead of acknowledging these thoughts and moving through and past them I was letting them consume me and choosing to believe them. Thoughts are thoughts. We have a choice to believe them. We have the option to find new thoughts, positive thoughts like steps of a stair or ladder, climbing up and over to a new level, a higher plane where you can see the bigger picture. I made it back to sleep and got up at 4. Drank a little coffee and ate a little cereal.  

Met Shannon at the trail head. I said, "you lead". He said, "no, you". Dangit. It's easier to follow.  He wouldn't see me struggle if I followed. Here we go. I took it fairly easy. My feet were feeling good. The battered feeling was gone. The first thing I noticed was the sounds...the slight breeze, the trees rustling, the softer less technical trail..loose small gravel mostly, with pine needles. It was slight up and down. It was like nature and the trail were saying, "It's ok, come on now, see?, im here for you to enjoy". I relaxed and settled into a nice pace. I could hear, my breathing was rythmic, my feet felt light and happy.  A little climb or two then a nice descent to a dry creek crossing. A low point. Lush green all around, darker, cooler breeze. Then Shannon says, "here's your climb, go". I worked it. High foot turnover, quick steps, like peddling a bicycle. Arms pumping, elbows back and forth driving. Knees driving. Heart rate climbing...and climbing..I smiled big and breathed hard! I was in the higher heart rate zones and feeling good.  Breathless but good. Topped the first hill with hands on knees thrilled. I COULD do it...AND feel good.

The sun was up and peaking through all the trees that were thinner at the top of the ridge. Next section was a nice steady down. It felt easy, smooth, winding down. I was able to open my hips and stretch my legs and fly. Weeee!, it was fun and easy and a great way to recover after a climb.   We continued on up and down little rollers. Shannon flagged the next climb and said, "go". It was nice to have someone encouraging me. I would smile and take off. Top of climb, heart rate high,hands on knees,  starting to really believe it was going to be a really good day. The climbs were spaced perfectly apart.  Far enough to get nice and recovered but not too far apart to get lazy. We hit the visitors center, popped out of the trail and onto the pavement. I was struck by the difference in temp. It was a good 10 degrees warmer on the exposed road. I ate a gel or two and drank water and back on the trail we went. We came upon a skunk.  I didnt notice he was poised to spray.   I didnt have my glasses or contacts.  I was lingering, getting ready to say something about how cute...and shannon is like, "go..go...go!". Im used to the skunks I encounter around town at 4am..they're like cats. Fat and lazy and not startled easily. I had to explain my lackadaisical reaction.  I'm pretty sure he thought I was nuts. And on we went. More descending.  Back down into the thick lush green and dry creek bed.  And up. And up. This time to the highest point in the park.  The trees opened up and the sun was bright.  You could see for miles. Hands on knees huffing and puffing again.  Followed along the ridge for a while before going down again. . At 2 hours and 15 minutes we made it back to the start.  Shannon had already put in a ton of miles this week and it was time for him to go. He pointed me down the trail. 45 minutes left. Down I went, all the way to the lake.  I seriously contemplated going for a swim.  I didn't, only because I would stink the seats of thecar which would smell like sweaty lake for eternity!next time will bring towels. Back up the trail.  Saw a giant woodpecker fly across. Bright red head. Last climb. This one I took easy and slow. I was tired and ready to cool down. It was an awesome day. Learned much about thoughts this weekend.  

Ok, so I really do have runs/races where I really just nail it and they go just as planned. Runs where I think I might just be pure awesomeness..well...not quite ;). But those aren't nearly as interesting, no do they teach me nearly as much, nor do they occur as frequently. 

This weekend running agenda was for 5 hr trail run today and 3 hr trail run tomorrow.  Closest trails for me are an hour and change away. Since I had a double header, we opted to come spend the night in Tulsa, near Turkey Mt where I planned to do both days running.  We arrived in Tulsa yesterday.  There was also a 50 mile ultra run going on right next to the trail system I would be running...Midnight Madness 50 miler. Started at midnight last night.  I stopped by the sponsoring running store..quite by coincidence ;)... and was struck by the serious (and seriously delusional) desire to run it.  The temps were going to be unusually cool and in my pea brain I thought maybe I could pull of some magic and have an awesome finish...he he he. I started doing the math and reasoning in my head that doing a 50 mile race in one night would be very similar to running total of 8 hours of trail over 2 days...Coach wouldn't mind, right?  He'd agree..right?  He's on vacation and wont be back till next week.... I contacted the race director...I COULD still sign up. Never mind the fact that I just came off a 50 mile-san juan and have been pissing and moaning all week about how my runs were lack luster and I seemed tired when running, struggling a bit....This story would be much more interesting if I had actually gone through with it.  Fortunately, a heafty dinner and finally sitting down for a while subdued my delusional thinking and I opted not to go for it! I realize now (post 5hr trail run) that a 50 mile race would have ended in pure disaster for me. Soooo on to today's run....

I think part of the reason I wanted to do the 50 miler was because I REALLY was not looking forward to a 5hr trail run on turkey mt.  It's a 2 mile square hill with trails that zig-zag all over the place. It's fun for shorter runs and races, but you feel a bit like a mouse in a repetitive maze after a couple hours and unless you are running with someone it can be insanely repetitive. Plus, I've about worn out those trails, I know every square inch.  I opted to go predawn with a with a light to avoid the heat of late morning/noon. Grabbed a small cap light that I would hand carry since I knew I would only need it for a few miles. Bad choice.  It was such a tiny and dim light I could hardly see the trail.  I picked my way gingerly over the technical trails praying I would not fall. Then came the spider webs. I'm used to spider webs, but usually I can see them first..and usually it's just like a few stringers across the trail across my chest or brushing my arms.  These were the Charlotte's Web kind.. big wide meshy webs..in my face with no warning. I must've been a sight. About every 50 feet I'd run through one smack in the face, let out an uncontrollable scream and wave wildly with this tiny little light...no longer shining my way mind you but shining all over the place like laser lights in a disco.  If I weren't so terrified it would've been more funny. Sun finally came up and 3 miles of trails cleared of spider webs for the rest of the hikers that would be out today. 

My agenda was for this run to be "a walk in the park". Getting my heart rate in the upper middle zones going up hill and recovering in the low zones going down. The problem was, nothing felt like "a walk in the park". The first few miles were easy. Then easy was zone 1-low 2 only. even uphill, downhill, flat. When I'd try to increase effort/heart rate above mid zone 2, fatigue and serious desire to quit would kick in. I struggled with this the whole run. I had a near constant desire to quit. It played over and over in my head. I tried to make what was left...4 hours not sound so long. I played all kinds of mind games.  I tried slowing down, speeding up, nothing removed the seemingly overwhelming desire to quit. I took a few walk breaks. Walking was even worse, when I'd walk I just wanted to sit down and cry because I couldn't run.  And I actually felt more tired walking than running.  I finally quit trying to push anything. I was mad and sad and tired. At 3:45 I just melted down.  I walked, I kicked the dirt, I was mad, and I decided I was done. I would quit just as soon as I got off the trail.... I walked over to the aid station that was set up for the race and ran into a friend. He was working the aid station, he would've been running, but he had broke his foot. I was so self absorbed and oblivious that I had the nerve to whine, saying I was struggling with motivation to finish.  He raised his cast and said, "Here's your motivation". Shocked right back into reality. I nodded. and I ran. I finished my 5 hour run/pity party.  

Tomorrow is a new day, another run, a fresh start....

My San Juan Solstice 50 mile race report...Trust....peace...persist.  A few days ago I was heading out the door, headed to the Armory building in Lake City, CO to sign in for my adventure. 6 hours later, feet and legs sore, recovering from a hefty dose of altitude sickness, a little pulmonary edema, awakened by coughing and heartburn from pizza and dreams of mountains, rivers, clouds, climbing, descending, incredible people and more.

5am the gun fired and we were off. I started in the back of the mid pack. My goal was to have a good training day. To not kill myself on this course trying to shoot for a time goal,to be able to learn and gain experience for Leadville.  I was hopeful that a good day might bring me in around 13 hours. I knew not to expect anything and to remain humble on this course. There would be 12,800+ feet of vertical climbing. two climbs 4,000+ ft each and a 2,000ft climb at mile 40. I was not surprised by the difficulty of the climbing at altitude, what surprised me was how incredibly technical much of the course was. The san juans are very rocky indeed! It made me grateful for our rocky trails in Oklahoma, good training ground for learning how to play hopscotch well, especially when descending steep grades.

The first 3 miles is up the highway in the dark, then we turned off onto alpine gulch trail and headed straight up, 5 miles up to the first aid station which sat maybe a mile or two below the first peak. I normally run with headphones, but opted just to carry them for when I needed a little motivation. Right off the bat I remembered why I wear headphones...when I dont, I usually get some rediculous, usually 80's song stuck in my head, one that describes how I feel. So first song that came to mind was Wham's , "wake me up before you go go". Ugh. I debated putting the headphones on right away, but resisted.  I was surprised at how much of this was runnable, albeit slow, but runnable. The sun was rising, the streams rushing. The mountain sounds shut George Michael up. There were many creek crossings. The first couple you could cross the logs, the rest you just had to suck it up and get those feet and legs wet.  Enter the next song stuck in my head, "she's as cild as ice" by foreigner, I think. I was a bit taken aback and almost fell as I was crossing one...of course you are intensely focused on your feet and the logs when crossing.  Well, about midway across one of the creeks, right smack in the center of the crossing on the log was a nice little baseball card sized picture of a very voluptuous naked woman. The shock value was great. TOTALLY not what you expect to see in the middle of the mountains! Gotta have a sense of humor, eh? Made it to the first aid station feeling great. The aid station crews were awesome. They put the pit crews at the Indy 500 to shame. Stripped me of my pack and had water bottles refilled, trash removed and me all reassembled before I could say "I need..". We chatted briefly and off I went to head over the first peak. Words cannot describe the view at 13,000 feet! I will include pics. I honestly am speechless, it is too beautiful to describe. As wordy as I am, I had hoped to have a million things to say...speechless. We headed along the high ridge, the top of the world to me and then descended 4,000+ feet into Williams Creek campground. Next song? "She's going down down again"...have no idea artist. This is where my gut revolted.  I had been fueling and hydrating well anticipating as the day progressed this would become more difficult. I think most of the fuel just sat on my stomach. I developed side stitches from the top of my diaphragm on both sides all the way down. My gut was in a complete twist. Then...ahem...lower gi problems arose.  One sentence....Thank God for biodegradable toilet paper! I was able to run the full descent, minus the trips off the trail to the little girls room. I am quite modest, so I would go waaay off the trail. Had to remember to pay attention so I wouldn't get lost. Leaving the aid station I was reduced to a walk. Any jostling of my gut triggered the most horrendous side stitches I've ever experienced and made me start eyeing the next tree. I was very worried. I knew I could not walk 40 miles and miss cutoffs.  All I could do was hope things got better. My mantra, "persist" was comforting and I repeated it in my head over and over. 2 miles of walking a road I should have been running. Snap. I was grateful that there was an immediate climb, the next 4000+ feet up. That would be mostly a hike anyway. Persist. ZZ top, "she's got legs". The side stiches relented after about another 2 miles. The gi issues continued to mile 20 or so. Persist. We climbed into the next aid station at Carson ghost town. I was starting to regain my mojo. The final ascent to 13,200 was a booger! Persist.  It was insanely beautiful though. The winds were wild and the temps in the 60s. The sky was the bluest and the clouds the whitest I've ever seen. Breathing hard and moving slow! I passed a few runners on this section. We got to the top of the ridge. You could see the fire line and smoke billowing from the southeast.  We ran along the ridge for what seemed like forever. Crossed a couple of small snow fields.  At this point I had to stop and pull a Julie Andrews from The Sound of Music. I twirled around...a very feeble attempt at 13000 ft. And I after a couple of twirls I got so dizzy I thought I might just roll off the mountain! I started getting a headache on the second climb.

The next section was the continental divide. 6 miles across, up and down. "Love Rollercoaster" by Red Hot Chilli Peppers. This is where the nausea amped up. I was fine for the most part descending steeper grade sections, but the flats and even slight inclines induced such nausea and heaving at  some points that I ended up bargaining with my stomach.  I would run until I felt like I was going to puke, then walk until it subsided.  I knew I couldn't afford to vomit. This turned into about a run 2 min, walk 1 min ratio on the flats and slight inclines where I had hoped to be running smoothly. Persist. The steeper the descent the better I did and the less nauseated I was. These were my favorite sections. I would pass several people on the descents...smiling the whole way....of course several would catch me on the flats and climbs.  The headache subsided as I descended across this section. Rolled into the aid station at mi 31 a little queasy and not particularly motivated for the next 9 mile segment. Alright time for headphones. Persist. My fueling was a little pitiful, I was only able to get down about 200 cal/hr for some time. If I tried to take in  more the nausea would ramp up, less and I would get pretty bonky. I had fueled on gels only to this point, I like the Stinger gels. I decided to try some Acclimate sport drink the race supplied. It was a nice switch. I also started drinking pepsi/coke at the aid stations to try and get more calories in. This seemed to help some.

There was a nice climb out of that aid station, more than I anticipated, but just got up and over it. Persist. There was some more flat/slight up or down which I had to negotiate the walk/run cycle with my stomach. Fortunately, the lower gi issues were gone.... and I still had toilet paper left! Then came some wicked technical descents.  2 words... Holy @#$!. It was so technical and steep! It was sandy, like running on ball bearings with grapefruit sized rocks everywhere. Strangely enough, I loved it! This is where I did some serious passing, again big smile..it was just too irresistible not to smile and almost laugh going down, It was the only time I felt good, the only time I felt really and truly me. I have no idea why, and it makes no sense, but my stomach tolerated these sections the best. Probably because I was so focused on not falling, plus descending to lower elevations made my tummy very happy. Rolled into the aid station at mile 40 feeling pretty fantastic.  There was lots of carnage here. Runners laid out, a few had dropped, a few contemplating dropping, many with pretty thrashed quads. Several I had seen early on leading the charge. I was soooooooooo grateful to be feeling so good. My quads were still in pretty good shape. I kept thinking about how eric told me to be easy and comfortable going down with good form and I nailed it.

The last climb was ahead. 2000 ft vertical over 2 miles. I knew this would be a tough section and it was even tougher than I expected. NO switchbacks!  At least I don't remember any and I remember wishing for some. I was starting to get more short of breath more easily. Persist. I could no longer climb steady, consistent as I had on the previous climbs. Persist. I would climb 2-3 minutes at most and be completely out of breath and severely nauseated. Hands on knees, breath hard, recoup and climb...hands on knees, breath hard, recoup and climb. Persist.  Longest 2 miles of my life. The whimpering kicked in so I sucked down 2 gels...whimpering usually means I'm bonking. I wanted to sit down and quit. It was the most difficult climb on the course for me. Everyone struggled on this climb. There were several around me. I'd pass them, they'd pass me and up we went. Made it to aid station at 45 miles in rough shape. I was very dizzy and bonky. I sat down and drank pepsi, relaxed, chatted with the aid station crew. I was obviously short of breath. I had a hard time talking in complete sentences. We joked. They asked where I was from..Oklahoma, 500ft elevation. We joked about my dirty legs. The EMT checked my heart rate and did a little neuro check on me.....apparently he didn't think I was quite right. I joked about how I missed my 8 hour time goal. That got a HUGE laugh out of all of us. Even the two chocolate labs who were snoozing away looked up at me, like "yeah right". We all determined I was fine to head out and off I went. A little climb after the aid station then straight DOWN! Holy technical steep slickery-sandy descending Bat Man! It was freaking awesome!  My quads were getting a wee bit sore but I knew it was almost over. I passed and passed and passed runners going down. It felt awesome! The temps started warming, my headache and nausea subsiding. Rolled into town and my kids ran me through the finish at 14:45. I flopped on the ground and ate the most wonderful watermelon and pretzels ever. The images and people burned in my brain. A beautiful beast indeed. Oh, and my shoes???? My B2R prototype trail shoes were freaking awesome!!! I never changed shoes. They were fabulous! even over all that technical #$%*. Only 1 blister on my R great toe.  Feet look great.

That was my first comment/apology to my coach who would be looking at my run data. Literally, the blue pace line all over... way up, waaay down, stopped, started, stopped, started, waaay up, waay down, stopped....But the run...the run today was pure bliss. I knew I was a little tired from War Eagle and i'm still a little discouraged at how hard the effort vs what my data showed. The legs a little sluggish this week with recovery runs and days off.  This morning's alarm came and an overwhelming desire to stay in bed struck.  I was not motivated to hit the trails today.  Coffee down, and egg mcmuffin no cheese sat on my stomach like lead.  I did finally perk up when I got to Turkey Mt trails. Off I went.  Feeling sluggish at first,starting to worry I would have to trudge through this one. then got to the top of the hill, lovingly named lipbuster, and there was the sunrise.  I finally noticed my surroundings and the trail ahead.  Wow, the lush green. After about 3 miles I was wishing I could capture all of this, the flowers were so bright and the green so green and the trail so sweet and smooth, and the way the sun was peeking through..That's it.  I decided to run back to the car and get my I-phone.  Here would be the dilemma. If I stopped and took pictures as I went, my overall pace would be slower.  I might not get as "good" a workout as I'm supposed to.  A year ago that would have kept me from grabbing the camera.  I decided, not only would I take some pictures, but I would stop every time I wanted to catch something.  I felt like a little jackrabbit, stopping for a moment, then taking off again. It felt great! I would go faster until I felt tired or another photo op jumped out at me. It was just what my brain...and coincidentally, my legs needed. Oh it was fun, darting, stopping, running, jogging, scrambling, stopping. And amazingly enough, although my pace looked wild, my heart-rate data looked pretty good, up and down in the zones.