Whirlwind trip from Denver to Leadville back to Denver to Tulsa in less than 24 hrs!  Had a work trip to Denver and couldn't resist the temptation to get to Leadville...to get in the mountains.  I wanted despirately to run some trails around Leadville, but, the trails are typically not runnable this time of year. My hosts in Buena Vista confirmed this, so I resigned myself to running some trails a few thousand feet down in Buena Vista.  After some business in Leadville I hit the coffee shop. The young guy working there asked what I was up to. When I told him and expressed a little disappointment about not getting to run trails around leadville, he excitedly told me that he had just run some of the Colorado trail.  It was ON!  I got on the trail at the same location as one of the aid stations- Fish Hatchery- from the Leadville trail 100 race.  Man, did it bring back memories...minus the cold and snow!  Ran two miles down the colorado trail until it became rediculous to go any further as the trail was less traveled and my feet were sinking up to 6-8 inches with every few steps.  The chipmunks were chattering at me as if to be laughing at how I must've appeared. My heart rate was high, my breathing hard and I was in HEAVEN!!  After getting back off the trail I ran around fish hatchery a bit, reminiscing coming in and out of that aid station during the race.

11 miles on Turkey Mountain in Tulsa. Progression of pics below will welcome you to my local world of trail running.  After the past couple of weeks I was looking forward to today. I decided I would try not to pay attention to my watch or how fast I could go. I decided I would feel it out.  It wasn't easy. "I want to look at my watch" I would think as I ran, "I want to push the pace" I thought, I "want to see how fast I can go" I thought.  I thought I "wanted" it. Those thoughts were just flashes. Most of the time I thought how good it felt to just go with how it feels.  To have no expectations and be pleasantly surprised by whatever. After I ran, I realized when I was thinking "I want", I really meant "I need".   Needing is different than wanting. Time to refocus, to let go of "needing" so I can keep that joy that running and exploring my limits gives me. Enjoy the pics! 

Struggling a bit with my running these past 2-3 weeks. Back to back illnesses haven't helped. Theses past few runs, a little fear has crept in. "what if if the energy and desire don't come back?".  When I tried visualization, figuring out where i am and what makes me feel best, i started visualizing how it feels when running trails in the cold, feeling fast and strong, breathing hard but not struggling, just floating/flying over rocks and roots and leaves on an ever so slight downhill grade.  I stayed there a good while.  Then I thought about how I feel right now, like I'm 2/3 the way up hope pass. At 12,000 feet.  Working hard, struggling a bit, anxious that I might not make it to the top. Frustrated at how hard it feels, starting let let negative thoughts in, starting to fight knowing that I don't have enough fight in me to beat a mountain. To beat the fatigue into submission. To beat whatever it is I haven't quite identified. It's that point where I'm almost ready to give up and I visualize what it's gonna feel like to come up over the other side.  That little glimmer that keeps me working, letting go of that strong desire to quit because I can't fight through it. I actually physically experienced it a little this morning.  I was dreading the 20 min interval that was planned mid run.  I was to warm up, run 20 minutes at a pretty darn tough pace on a good day and then cool down. I remembered how I felt all week trying to run.  I had a hard time getting warmed up. Got to the track because I knew it would be easier to run faster on flat no brainer track.  I was worried i wouldn't be able to do it, that i couldn't hold the pace.  I started out that 20 minute interval fighting.  Fighting my way through.  After about 3/4 mile i just stopped in my tracks and let out a pitiful whimper. "I quit" i thought.  "i can't do this". "I don't like this"  For a split second I didn't think there was another option....I either had to quit or fight.  Then I realized there was another option. Embrace it. Let go and run, let go and run.  Embrace how I felt and let it be ok. It all happened in less than 15 seconds.  I finished out that interval and did it on pace (although I don't think it would have mattered if I hadn't). And I even maybe enjoyed it...maybe.  I didn't realize what I did, but maybe I do now. It didn't make sense then, I just knew I stopped and started again. It happened so fast and i didnt get what happened till just now.  Embrace it, mold it and shape it into something beautiful.   And people ask me why I run.

Turkey n Taturs 7th annual trail runs today.  I signed up for the 10k, not really sure how I would do.  I had a rough go at Pumpkin Holler 2 weeks ago and a good Tulsa Run last week.  Coming into this trail run I was still trying to shake off how terrible I felt that whole 15k at Pumpkin, and how I felt about my performance. Felt a little pressure knowing I had a week of rest, had good energy, all systems go for a good race today....so if I did poorly I had nothing to blame a poor performance on except...well... me, my running ability, my mental toughness.  That's a good mentality to have eh?  I of course "know better" than to think like that.  I know to do my very best and see where that falls and build on that and learn and grow, but those negative thoughts are there too.  I think I might not be inclined to think like this if I weren't investing so much of myself (and loving it by the way) into this new found passion called trail running...and not just running, ....but....racing.  I like racing.  I've never been a "racer".  High school track I was one of the slow ones.  I never even thought or believed I had potential to actually compete at anything.  Here I am 39 almost 40 with 3 kids and an established career and I'm feeling very competative toward other 39 almost 40 year old moms on the trails...that's just plain NUTS!  But I love it, and those other 39-40 year old moms love it too!  Soooo, today's race low down.....I decided since this is a relatively short distance I would just jump out there. Start at the very front and just GO!  There was a young 14 year old girl running this one that looked nervous and the race director asked if I would pull her along and get her ahead of the conga line so she could do her thing too.  I pulled her to the front and told her I knew she could go fast and to take off and have fun. The gun went off and we did!  We took off in first and second place.  I got ahead of her and stayed in first until after the first 1k.  The first and second males quickly passed and went on.  the 3rd male stayed behind me for the next 7k and the rest of the pack fell farther behind.  He stayed right behind me the whole way on a rocky/rooty single track trail with a few sweet sections of flat or downhill soft dirt single track.  No one in front of me. I kept wishing he would pass me so I could pace behind him for a while. I made myself run in that zone. That zone where you know if you go any harder/faster you won't be able to maintain it any slower and you're not giving your all.  As soon as things felt any less difficult, I amped it back up.  Downhills I ran as hard and fast as I could. Felt like I was flying over rocks...I was definitely flailing. My arms waving wildly at times, I felt like Yoda in one of the newer star wars movies..a flying Yoda.  I did get a little green feeling on occasion too! but that was when I was going uphill...no flying... just one foot in front of the other cycling my legs as quick as I could going up up up.  At 8-9K that third male passed me and took off.  Asshole.  KIDDING of course !!  It was great to finish...first female!  ...And I smashed the female course record by 6+ minutes!!  I was 4th overall and it was great to get congratulations from the big boys who finished up front.  Really felt great!  I had a great day! ...And that 14 year old girl did great too...and she had fun!

Was nervous going into this one. Had a tough race the week before. I did a 25k at Pumpkin Holler. I had done the 100 mile race there last year and came in first female. A lot of people were wondering why I was "only" doing the 25k.  I put a lot of pressure on myself to win this one.  I felt like it was expected and I knew I would be disappointed if I didn't win, even though I told myself I wouldn't.  Well I came in 4th female, not shabby, but not near first. Not to mention I felt tired and like I was on the verge of falling apart the whole way. I was chasing the lead females and getting farther and farther behind and I couldn't seem to move any faster and couldn't figure out why.  Next up Tulsa Run, batteries recharged my goal for this race was to stay within myself.  That's when I do my best. I love Tulsa Run. Always 8-10,000 runners and big party atmosphere the whole way.  I did it. I got back to what I do best, staying within myself and running my own race.  It felt great.  It's like the whole world disappears and I am in this zone, racing myself, chasing my limit and dancing back and forth over that line.  For the first time in a race I also learned what it felt like to have a "kick" toward the end of the race. My goal was to pick it up at 10k and I did, and it felt good.  Unfortunately that "kick" only lasted about 2K!  Soooo the last 3 k were pretty rough, but it was wonderful and I finished happy.  I also feel like I was learning as I was going. Learning where maybe I can push a little more and where maybe I should not push so much. i love those kinds of races and those kinds of days!  Put a few more miles on my BTRs!

Decided to spice things up a bit and go for my trail run pre-dawn.  Spent 5 miles in complete darkness on Turkey Mt trails near Tulsa, Ok. Mild-mod technical single track trail just outside of town.  It was strange. No fear of the darkness and critters (normally I have a huge problem with this!), just fear of falling....which i did only once!  My husband was out there too, though after the first quarter mile I didn't seem him for another 2 hours. Only a possum who was as freaked out by me as I was by him.  After 5-6 miles the sun came up and around mile 8 suddenly the turbo boosters fired!  I felt like I was flying...my garmin indicated otherwise, but it sure felt fast!  I came over some rolling hills and couldn't help but raise my arms like wings as I was flying above the river next to me like a hawk....maybe that's why the possum was freaked out!  I few little uphills made me work again and the ride was over.  What a fun morning!

May 13, 2012 I stood at the base of the mountain, just past the slippery rocky stream bed, about a half mile into what seemed like a vast, foggy rain forest right out of South America....This is in SE Oklahoma mind you...I have a vivid imagination! It WAS raining and it IS a thick forrest. I couldn't see with my glasses on or off.  It was to be my first really long really rugged trail run- 4 hours.  2 hours out and back...by myself.  I was signed up to do Leadville in a few months and had virtually no REAL trail running under my belt. 1 mile in I turned around and called my husband to come back and get me. The storms scared me, the trail scared me, but most the unknown scared me. I emailed Eric and told him it was raining too hard and I couldn't see well enough to navigate.  His response?  "You could go out later after the rain lets up or even at night and use a head lamp"...wha tha? "Shit" I thought. I knew I had to go back. However, there was not a snowballs chance in hell I was going out there at night. Sooo the very next morning, mother's day, the adventure began anew. I did it. And I did it again and again several times before leadville. I got better at it and learned a lot but it was always hard.  I learned a lot about fighting and flowing and a little about spiders and snakes.  Prior to Leadville I was always intimidated by that trail, by running by myself in the mountains. I struggled with fighting rocks and roots and trying to learn to flow.  This past Saturday was my first trip back to Ouachita Trail since finishing Leadville in August.  It was amazing! It was foggy and raining, just like that day in May.  But this time there was only joy and anticipation.  I couldn't wait to get out there... and I didn't just flow over those rocks and roots I flew (or at least it felt like it!).  I ran switchback after switchback that previously reduced me to a walk.  My legs felt strong and footing was confident despite the slippery wet rocks.  There was no fighting....and no snakes...a real bonus!

What a fun trail run! 13.1 miles of rugged hilly single track trail on Tulsa's Turkey Mountain-no it's not a real mountain.  Lots of up, down, twists and turns.  The pic is of the Powerline section. Reminicent of a mini Leadvillle "Powerline"....well....minus the altitude, the cold, the dark, the endless climbing and false summits! My goal was to keep my heart rate in a higher zone than I'm used too.  I was afraid I couldn't hold that HR zone for that long.  I got behind a little 12 year old blonde headed kid and chased him for 9 miles.  I felt like a kid myself, running what felt like fast...down, around curves and down steep hills, just felt like play...well playing hard!  Didn't feel much like a kid on the steep ups, but it seemed like more of the course was downhill or flat which made for a great deal of fun!  I finally passed him after 9 miles and chased after the next dude.  He wasn't nearly as much fun to chase!  The last 2 miles sucked!  I can't remember if I passed him or not. I was trying so hard to maintain the higher HR zone which was extremely difficult at that point.  At the top of the last hill-the picture there was a cooler full of beers.  I had no desire to partake at that point!  I did, however, after the race climb back up that nasty hill and retrieve my beer!  Finished first place female in 2:01.  Quite pleased.  Beer was good too! 

Long run in the warm mod-heavy rain was just what this runner girl needed this morning.  It didn't just rain a little, it rained a lot.  For an hour and a half continuous, but it felt wonderful. Wrapped in warmth, splashing puddles like a child was just what my soul needed today.  This has been a rough week emotionally and no time to sit down and cry like I wanted to.  It was like God was cleansing my soul, saying, "It's ok, I know right where you're at and exactly how you feel and what you need and it will be ok...I know your dreams and they will come true...be patient...AND.. enjoy the rain!"

Ok, so I'm starting to come back to life after Leadville.  Struggled with some pretty significant fatigue and nausea this week, but starting to perk up again and wondering what's next?  Any suggestions for my goal for 2013?

Wow, what a day!  I am humbled and honored. I gave this race all of me, everything I had at every moment, and these Colorado mountains gave me so much more, including granting me the reward of finishing this race. Over 800 people picked up their race packets the day before the race.  There were only 361 finishers.  I heard the finisher rate was 45% this year. I am thrilled to have made it in that minority. 

So...now for the lowdown on my race showdown!  A peace finally settled in the week of the race. I was no longer afraid.  I had a sense of calm, I believed I could finish this. I of course had giant butterflies and they multiplied exponentially the day before the race!  I still managed to get a few hours sleep before we had to leave our hotel in Vail at 2 am race day.  Before I knew it the gun was off.  I stayed within myself those first 13.5 miles to  the first aid station--May Queen.  Started out for about a mile on pavement then dirt road which turned to beautiful single track trail that stuck close to the shoreline of Turquoise Lake.  A little dicy at times at night with lots of runners, difficult to pass or be passed without tripping or expending a great deal of precious energy.  I made sure I kept my heart rate low and  stuck with that strategy until I no longer had to worry about “going out too fast”.  You have to be careful early...adrenaline, combined with the cold air, anxiety, and the fact that you feel good can lead to running too hard early on and burning yourself up.  For me, the best way to counter that is to run based on my heart rate...the heart doesn’t lie.  Beating too fast and you are burning yourself up.  I can’t go by feel early on because fast feels good...for a little while.  Enough on that.  My goal was sub 25 hour finish.  I came into MayQueen right on  time.  Good to see Todd and Erika-my crew. Quick in and out and pee break and on to the next aid station-Fish Hatchery would be 10 miles away.  The first 15 miles was relatively flat to small rolling hills. Leaving MayQueen was climbing up Sugar Loaf pass. Elevation over 11,000 feet.  Again, followed heart rate.  Hiked when needed to keep heart rate down.  Came off single track to Hagerman road. To my right were beutiful vistas of turquoise lake, winding streams and mountains in the distance, we definitely were getting higher.  Then you hear that sound....sounds initially like bugs buzzing....nope, it’s “Power Line” The infamous downhill section of the course.  It is literally the power line straight down the mountain.  No trail. A sandy, rutted out compact dirt slide that takes you to the bottom of the sugarloaf pass...what you just got done climbing. I think it’s about 2.5 miles down.  This takes you almost right into the Fish Hatchery aid station sitting at mile 23.5 . Arrived here still feeling good and on track time-wise.  Next aid station = Half Pipe which sits at 29.5 miles on the course.  This would be one of two subsequent aid station Todd and Erika would not be at. This section was a little tougher for me. Sun was up, bright and getting warm.  Probably 4-5 miles of this section was exposed black top or dirt road...long, flat section.  I took in quite a bit of water and gels for calories....and if I fail to mention, If I never have to eat another gu/gel I will not regret it.  Those became sooooo difficult to choke down!  Unfortunately, my tummy would not tolerate ANY solid food for 28 straight hours.  This is where the nausea started to settle in. Mild, but I no longer needed my heart rate monitor to tell me if I was pushing it at all...it was my tummy...and my breathing.  I started getting winded a little easier than I thought I should, but attributed it to altitude and fatigue. I came into the next little mini-station at 36.5 mi. Agian, no crew. They were not allowed at this aid station as it sits in the mountains and there is just no room off the trail there.  I noticed my hands were swelling.  Fluids/lytes are where I struggle the most. I screw it up almost every ultra.  I can’t seem to rely on my own thirst/hunger to tell me what I need, either that or I don’t do a very good job of listening. Most likely the latter.  I also don’t carry handhelds--I use a hydration pack which makes it harder for me to gauge how much water I am taking in as I can’t just watch the ounces go down. Someone else is always filling my pack and I’m in a hurry and don’t have time to calculate how much I have gone through.  The gels I use have quite a bit of sodium/lytes so I didn’t need any extra salt caps or endurolytes which are hard for me to choke down anyway. I try to let thirst dictate how much I drink...the gels make me feel thirstier and make my mouth sticky which led to me drinking more..and more water.  Of course I am only realizing this in hindsight.  So started having some nausea and a headache...fun, but oh well, to be expected altitude.  On to Twin lakes. The 3 miles from the mini aid station to twin lakes is only 3 mi of all mountain single track trail. Lots of pine trees, soft dirt, a few technical areas and climbs, but overall easy trail. Twin Lakes aid station sits at mi 40 and is the last aid station before the infamous climb over Hope Pass.  I came in here feeling great and even a few minutes ahead of schedule.  First aid station since Fish Hatch that I saw my crew which also boosted my mood.  This is one of the busiest aid stations with TONS of people cheering.  Filled my pack, added some gels,,,which were becoming less and less appealing! Out of Twin Lakes is 2 miles across flat land brushy single track trail with a river crossing. Wow that river was cold!  It felt great on tired, hot feet..just a little shocking.  Water level was low, just shy of knee deep on me with a rope across to help keep you from falling. 2 miles in you hit the base of Hope.  3.5 miles up, straight up rocky, rooty singletrack trail with God only knows how many switchbacks.  You climb 3,000 feet in 3.5 miles.  I had a really tough time here. Just kept 1 foot in front of the other and climbed, slow but sure.  Started feeling a little wimpy/whiny just before hitting the top of the tree line.  FINALLY to the top where there was a nice little aid station and several llamas that carried all their supplies and gear up.  Cold and windy up here at  12,600  ft. Temps were probably low to mid 40s. May have been higher, but with the wind it sure seemed colder.  I did NOT linger here. Hypothermia bound to kick in quick if you don’t keep moving.  Now doooown the other side.  Sandy, steeeeeep dirt switchbacks down the mountain for the first mile or so.  Cross several boulder fields, fun.  No running here, just picking your way across rocks.  Then more single track, which is veeery steep and techinical.  Much slower going than I would have liked. It was just so technical and steep, the trail dictated a slow pace.  Also a bit of a congo line here. Many runners all bottlenecked here on the trail.  Finally...fiiiinaaalllyyy make it into Winfield at 50 miles. This is an old Ghost town.  Chaotic aid station here. Tons of people, nobody sure of what was going on and tons of cars.  This was the first of two “medical check ins” We had to weigh in.  They will allow you to lose up to 4% of your body wieght.  More than that and you have to stay and hydrate/eat until your weight comes up.  Since I was swelling, I was interested in my weight. My concern was that the opposite was happening. That I was retaining water.  I had lost 1 lb, so I thought, I’m good, swelling must just be altitude-which does cause your hands to swell.  I was good to go.  Started to notice a little knee pain on the left, just a little tendinitis settling in, again to be expected to start having aches and pains and I felt considering all of the climbing/descending I had done I had earned a little achiness. This is where I was allowed to have my first “pacer”-someone who can run with you, carry things for you and provide most importantly-moral support. Missy is one of the 4am running club members...there are 4 of us, which reminds me, there was another chic out there from Texas that gets up at 4 to run, I ran with her for a bit and wished her the best.  This was her first time at Leadville and I’m pretty sure she finished-possibly ahead of me.  Women who get up at 4 to run every day are tough. We get up at 4 not because that is the best time to run, but because there is NO other time to run. Our families and professions take priority from sunup to sundown and we get up at 4 so we don’t take away from our kids/spouses. She looked great the whole run and we played leapfrog much of the race.  That happens during ultras, we all have good times and bad, areas of strength and weaknesses and they are so individual.  Another cool thing about ultras-unless you are fighting for top seed, you are always happy to see other runners doing well, passing you, and they are always happy to see you pass them. We give each other genuine words of encouragement as we pass....you really do “feel the love”. Ok, so I pick up Missy. I broke down just a little at the sight of her face. My running buddy was there. One of the girls I can always count on. She is always there at 4 am and she was there right when I needed her.  I had her run just in front of me, mentally pulling me up that mountain...for the second time.  Coming up the backside of Hope Pass is even steeper climbing. The race founder’s son’s words came to mind, “You are gonna run 50 miles some of the highest, most beautiful, rugged mountains Colorado has to offer. And you know what you’re gonna do?  You are going to turn around and do it again.”  Breathing was tough for me.  I had to stop about every 5 minutes or less...all the way up to catch my breath for the next 5 minute push.  Hope pass is where I lost significant time.  I was an hour behind schedule when I arrived at Winfield. I made that gap about 2 hours coming back over hope.  We finally got to the top and to Hope Pass mini aid station and everything started going black. I was getting cold and I couldn’t breathe. The aid station worker sat me down by the fire, made me a cup of “magic soup”...a concoction of chicken flavor ramen noodles and potato slurry/soup.  It was the BOMB!  As soon as I sat down, a shepherd dog zipped right up to me, nuzzled his head under my arm and landed it right in my lap and cuddled me as I warmed up.  I drew strength from that warm, lovable dog and the aid station worker who wanted me to continue my journey and was doing everything she could to make that happen.  I will never forget her face...mainly because that was the last thing I saw before I started seeing stars!....not good to see stars during the day!  Ok, game on. Back down Hope Pass.  The little sit-down gave my hips and knees a chance to stiffen up quite a bit and my L knee was talking a little louder as I descended.  We moved fast down those 3.5 miles of switchbacks in the forest.  I could hear the rushing stream to my left the whole way down which was awesome to hear and helped me “flow” down.  Hit the bottom, which meant 2 miles of flat land and that river crossing.  Again.....ahhhhhh, ice cold water felt great! I walked most of this section which killed my time. I should have been running. By the time I came off the mountain my L knee was starting to yell instead of just talk.  I started thinking this may be it.  That is a really bad place to go mentally at “only” 60 miles into a 100 mi race.  I fostered and nursed that thought those last 2 miles. When I hit  Twin lakes aid station at mile 60 I told Todd, Missy, Erika and my next pacer Dave that I didn’t know if I could continue on that knee.  Get this...they COMPLETELY ignored me. Well &$%!.  Dave even had the nerve to tell me that those aches and pains often go away during the night with the cool air.  Obviously no one was in the mood to entertain my legitimate whining. Shit, that meant I had to continue.  Ok, on to the next mini aid station, Mt Elbert at 63.5 miles.  Dave was just what I needed, right when I needed him.  I would not have finished this race if it weren't for him. I was struggling with sig nausea and shortness of breath with any exertion.  He gave me ginger root chews and calmed me down and taught me how to breathe and relax with calm encouragement.  “push the air out through your mouth”, “blow out hard”,  “now get in a rhythm with that, in and push hard out”.  My nausea started to lift.  I could feel my lungs clearing the carbon dioxide that was building with my shallow breathing.  “get your arms at 90 degrees and short/quick steps, light, happy feet”, “that’s it....that’s it....” My knee pain did disappear, wow!  My nausea settled down, double wow wow!  Now we were moving again!  Dave never mentioned that he was struggling with nausea and abdominal cramps that he developed the day before from something he ate.  I noticed he was getting the hiccups and talking less.  I was in a rythm now and oblivious to my pacer’s plight.  I made a huge mistake by not layering up more at the next aid station, half-pipe at 70.9 miles.  I had on a t-shirt, under armour long sleeve top, shorts, and my windbreaker.  I started getting cold and Dave started puking. The little respite from my knee pain was over.  It started talking to me again, then yelling.  I started shivering.  Next aid station a seemingly looong 6.5 miles away.  We were completely exposed, night, out of the woods and on dirt/paved road.  The temps dropped fast.  Dave would catch up to me between bouts of vomiting.  My run turned into a pitiful trot.  As hypothermia set in, every joint started stiffening up.  I broke down and cried several times.  I got panicky and hyperventilated and puked.  I pulled it back together as  Dave caught back up with me.  I didn’t want him to see me panicking. I came into Fish Hatchery aid station at mile 76.5 in bad shape.  My crew added layers stuffed me in a sleeping bag by the heater and pushed potato soup in me.  Dave’s pacing me was over. He was supposed to take me another 10 miles, but he was now dehydrated and depleted of precious nutrients he would need to continue.  Todd stepped up to the plate 10 miles early.  He ended up running 24 miles with me. On the fly. No training. No hill repeats or altitude  running.  What a stud. I couldn’t stop shivering.  I now had tights, under armour pants, and sweatpants on (with duct tape around my ankles to keep me from stepping on the pants which were way too long for this barely 5’3 girl.).  I also had my T shirt, 2 long sleeve under armour shirts, a fleece pullover and my windjacket on.  I looked like the little kid from A Christmas Story. I was bundled, in a down comforter by the fire....still shivering.  Every time I tried to get up I felt intensely cold.  I was done...so I thought. Todd determined if I started running I would warm up.  Asshole. The aid station medical person agreed.  Both...assholes.  I had killed at least 30 minutes in that tent and I was starting to worry that I may not cross the finish line before 30 hours.  I made Todd promise I would not get hypothermia again.  I was terrified I would get 5 miles down the road and freeze to death.  I mean I was SCARED. I’ve never been that cold in my life and at that moment I truely believed I would die if that happened again, I would not make it to the next aid station as I had before. So with those lovely thoughts, off we went.  It was good to be running with Todd.  My husband, best friend. No one knows me better. No one believes in me more and no one is more brutally honest.  I knew if he told me he thought I could continue he was not feeding me a line of BS.  I also knew if he knew I could finish this, then I could. That is what got me out of that aid station.  So next up?  Remember Powerline?  Yup.  2 ish miles up that sandy, hard packed, rutted out slide. Breathing was tough.  I had to stop about every 2 minutes this time to catch my breath. Nausea was in high gear.  I belched so loud all the way up that mountain.  I was MISERABLE.  I was getting passed and passed and passed.  I was getting pissed off.  The other lovely thing about powerline and sugarloaf mountain is that there are a million false summits.  You think you’re at the top, only to find another steep uphill section. After what seemed like forever, a girl came flying past saying, “this is the last false summit”.  She categorically lied.  There were at least 3 more.  Its a good thing I didn’t catch what she looked like, I would like to track her down and kill her.  We made it to the top and what should have been a sweet easy run down ended up being mostly a fast walk into May Queen aid station at 86.5 miles.  This was the most painful section of the course.  My L knee was killing me and I could no longer run downhill...at all.  I was reduced to speed walking.  Thank goodness I was warm though.  We hit single track trail and I whimpered and cried out with every step over the rocks.  The pain was intense.  Add to that my toes.  They were now warm and feeling.  It felt like all 10 of my toenails were being ripped out with every step.  That pain was starting to rival the knee pain.  I just barely limped into May Queen aid station and begged an EMT to pull my socks off and assess the damage and see what kind of magic he could do. My thinking was, if I could get my toes to settle down I might be able to tolerate the knee pain better. Fortunately, all 10 nails were intact.  Just lots of blisters.  I learned a huge lesson from this....I like my shoelaces tied loose enough that I can slip my runners on and go.  Loose laces when running  long distance, especially downhill causes your feet to slide forward and cram your toes into the ends of your shoes with every step.  No big deal in Oklahoma where the hills are short, few, far between.  The cumulitive effect of this was huge.  I was proud to say I kept all 10 toenails over the past year.  All 10 toenails are now black and I will lose every last one.  Todd had an extra pair of socks which provided cushion for my bruised and battered twinkies...I called them “magic socks”.  With that pain quieted down I was ready to work.  We left that aid station and I pushed hard.  I ran every section I could. My knee pain had let up a bit and allowed me to do more.  My breathing was still hard and I had to continue, even when I walked, with blowing hard out my mouth with every exhale. I still had about 9 miles of rocky rooty trail left which was hard on the that knee, but we just pushed through.  I cursed Todds long legs, good mood, and any hint from him that I might could move faster. We hit the last 5 mile stretch of dirt then paved road and the sun was up.  Time to start shedding those aforementioned layers!  It felt like we were 5 feet from the sun.   I could tell I was sunburned from the day before and that intensified the sense that we were near the sun.  There was very litttle shade at this point, but it was good ‘cause I was almost done. I started realizing....finally that I was actually going to make it.  There were people all along those last several miles providing encouragement and cheers.  Someone had drawn a line in the sandy road marking the 98 mile point.  Only 2 miles left. Life never felt so good!  As we came down the home stretch, the last 2 blocks, someone to my right started yelling at me.  I mean yelling! “pick your head up girl, smile, you are almost done!...hold that head high girl! … look what you’ve done!”  Oh the tears came!  We stomped on that finish line pad, I broke the tape that they held across the finish line and the race director personally gave me  my medal and a huge hug.  I was done.  I weighed in.  I had gained a pound and was significantly swollen. We finally got back to the room and I laid down for a few minutes, I sat up because I couldn’t breathe.  Then the wet cough started.  Ooops.  As a nurse practitioner I knew what was going on. My lungs were filling with more fluid.  Pulmonary edema.  Overhydrated and over salted.  Duh.  I should’ve recognized it at mile 50 and taken measures to correct what I was doing wrong. During the race, I had chalked the more severe shortness of breath up to altitude and fatigue.  It never occurred to me that I was developing pulmonary edema.  The swollen, fluid filled hands turned into swollen, fluid filled lungs.  I was hoping this would clear quickly after the race with correcting my fluid/lytes status with real food and tea.  I felt better as we walked around town. We checked into a hotel in Leadville and I took a nap.  I woke up a couple of hours later more short of breath.  The best cure is getting down to a lower elevation.  Damn.  Checked out of hotel and headed to Pueblo.  Swelling and cough now just a trace.  Well, and the shortness of breath...much better.  I learned an important lesson. When you think you’re done...you’re not.  I was done several times in my mind.  Really.  Done. Race over done.  Erika, Dave, and Todd did not accept that.  At no time was there ever a  hint in their eyes of worry, doubt, or fear that I would not finish....believe me I looked for it.  I looked for it in the aid station workers eyes too.  I just needed one person to look at me like, “you poor thing, you are right, you should stop now”.  No one would give me that.  I thought I could at least get it from Erika. This was her first ever ultra to be at.  I just knew I could get that empathetic “It’s ok to quit” look from her.  I've learned so many things and hope to elaborate more soon.