SD100

Well, in my case it was SD73.25. Darn it! Wanna know what happened?  Because you already know what didn't happen, I didn't get that buckle.

I spent the week running around like a maniac getting things ready for the very last week of school for my boys. I would miss the last day of school for them this year for this race. We try very hard to impress upon them that we are always there for them and really want them to succeed and work hard, then I go ahead and register for a race on their last day of school, knowing full darn well what day it is. The best I can do at this point? Make sure they have everything they need and do not leave my husband scrambling to do things I promised. So, after getting permission slips signed, buying sharable store bought treats for the kinder park day, more store bought treats for the kinder graduation, special 'hey, it's your last day of school and your mom missed it' presents, going and making notes for any and everything that can and might pop up during the expected 32 hours I will be MIA.... you get it. I was preparing race clothes, race clothes changes, headlamps, battery replacements, fuel, electrolyte replenishment, papers, etc. And trying to be super mom. It was going to be perfect weather for the race,  temperatures expected in the 70's during the day and possibly 30's and windy at night. Then....(drum roll) boom. San Diego's typical June Gloom to be replaced by 'record setting high temperatures for the weekend forecast. Please reschedule any vigorous outdoor activity....' seriously.  Temperatures were expected to reach the 90's. Holy smokes! 

What to do? Put your head down, hydrate and try to get the darn race done. The pre-race briefing went well. As well as can be expected when your 6yo blows a gasket and has a huge meltdown, making you 30 min late and frazzling your already stretched thin nerves. The one thing I took away from the meeting?  'It's going to be ridiculously hot, finishing rates will be low.' Ouch. 

The next morning my super awesome crew chief chauffeured me to the start line. I mean for real, she picked me up at 330 am....

Some pre-race shenanigans with my fellow runners. 

Check it out, these two studs FINISHED the race. 

Picture with the RD, Scotty Mills. 

Sunrise.

Pre-race excitement.

 You get it, I'm excited, so happy race day is finally here. I've been training since January and frankly I'm tired of training. I'm tired of looking at my calendar and trying to figure out what family activity I will not be doing that weekend. I'm tired of waking up in the dark to kiss my kids goodbye for 8 hours. I'm tired of being fuzzy brained and tired.

Finally we get the all clear to go. I cannot event recall if it was just Scotty telling us to go or if there was more fanfare. I just remember going. Running, feeling amazing and so happy. The first 2 miles were so incredibly dusty, but the weather was fabulous. I wanted it to stay that way all day. At the first hill I started power hiking, I'm not proud. I have all day (and night, and day) to be out there, I'm saving energy where I can. My friend had told me about  this crazy purple flowered bush that causes extreme itching that was blooming. So I made myself a mental note, stay away from purple flowers. What did I do in the first field? I saw purple flowers, attempted to make sure I stayed away, ended up turning my ankle (shouted 'I'm ok!' out of sheer habit, because I doubt anyone running near me cared), and nearly fell straight into a purple flowered bush. Lovely. Now my ankle hurts, my leg is itchy and I'm paranoid. I'm fairly certain I just fell into stinging nettle plant. But I'm not going back to investigate.

Aid station 1 was at mile 7.5, the lovely Running Skirts group was there to give all the runners ice cold buffs to help combat the heat of the day, then they sent us up Stonewall. I ate 2 pieces of watermelon and 1 small of piece of potato before leaving. I definitely took this segment a little easier than I probably should have. I wasn't aggressive if someone was slower than me and walked some of the sections I usually run here. I was telling myself I was conserving energy. Well, that'll come back to bite me later. During the fantastic run down Stonewall I started to get a hot spot on my foot. What the heck, I'm barely 13 miles into the day and my toes feel like they need more lubrication. This does not bode well.  As I follow a fairly spaced out line of runners through a tall grass field where I can only occasionally see my feet, I'm constantly thinking 'Oh, please don't let me step on a snake!!!!'

Can you see the wild turkeys?

The line of runners got slightly harder to see as the trees get a little more dense, but there was a runner directly ahead of me. And with him in my periphery, I was concentrating on not falling on my face. When he stopped to fix his shoe, I ran past him. A quarter mile, and I see runners next to me.... on the other flipping side of the fence. Darn it! I made a wrong turn and now have to backtrack and get on the right path. Ugh, it was only 1/4 mile each way, but still!  Me and the other guy get on the right trail and make it to the second aid station. I'm ashamed I got lost and grumpy. And my foot hurts, so  I have to take some time to fix the foot thing. I can only hope I don't get lost again. I see so many of my friends at this aid station, one who politely, yet firmly tells me to slow the heck down.  Got it, slowing down.  I left after getting some ice (they were already running low) a slice of watermelon and put some Run Goo on my foot. The next section was exposed and warm, and it was only 9am.  At my next aid station I would see my amazing crew, I couldn't wait! I knew I needed to eat more, but it was so hot I didn't feel like eating, but I was able to drink. I had trained with Vitalyte and had planned on using that to get some electrolytes and calories, and frankly, it was yummy. I did choke down a Gu and got a little more spunk, but I was really trying to not burn myself out as the temps were rising. In hindsight, I should have run more.  I made it to Sunrise 1 (mile 21) and saw so many friendly faces. Grabbed more Vitalyte, got ice, ate something small and took it with me. I had sent a message to my friends to get my handheld filled with ice water, grabbed that and out I went. I planned on using this to douse myself and try to keep cool. 

The next section was even freaking more exposed and hot! Omg. One of my friends was running with 7 water bottles. I'm not even sure how he accomplished that. We kept snaking around and winding our way along the mountainside. I would love to go back and run this in the fall, because it was breathtakingly beautiful. But all I could think was 'I'm not on Noble Canyon yet to climb and I'm climbing. This sucks. I'm hot.' My friend who cautioned me to slow down had caught up to me and we chatted for a bit. He was also feeling wiped out from the heat. We complained a bit to one another and he abruptly said he was dropping back a bit. Since this section rolled a little, I tried running flats and downhill and walking the uphill. I started chatting with a lady from Florida. And I had noticed on the list of entrants that someone was from my home town of Niceville Florida. Imagine what a town called Niceville looks like. You're probably right. And 300 people register for a race and 2 are from Niceville? Sure enough, I found Dee, from Niceville! (PS, Dee finished and did great!) So we ran into Pioneer Mail together (mile 28). I ate a couple more pieces of watermelon, grabbed a salt tablet and got some ice and water. I couldn't remember if this was a crew station or not. I saw my crew there, but I couldn't recall if they were allowed to help me. I dropped an ear bud cover, and spent a few minutes looking for it because I knew the next few hours were going to be a slog, and I really needed to distraction of my book or some music. Because I didn't know if I was allowed crew help, I didn't know if I could get my replacements or not. Turns out this IS a crew station, so I could have saved my time looking for the cover and just refilled and left. Leaving the aid station I felt good. But, like all things in ultra running, that would change. 

One of my husband's co-workers has a wife running the same race. She's amazing, I looked up her stats and she does 200 and 250 mile races. He had let me know that she metioned to her husband she was very concerned with the heat that was expected this weekend. And when a veteran with that much experience has concern, I have lots of concern. Around mile 32 a woman came bounding towards me. I heard her tell me 'Hey! My husband works for your husband!' Of course I immediately knew who she was. We chatted for a few minutes while running and she let me know she had just spent 40 minutes (40!) in the last aid station and they almost didn't let her go because she looked so bad. Apparently she recovered well. As she left, I continuted my hot, boring slog to the next aid station. My foot was starting to get irritated again, which meant I was going to spend more time slapping foot lubricant on it. My book was enjoyable but it was so hot! The heat was really starting to take a toll on me, I had the most cramping I had ever had during a race in this section. The muscles on the inner side of my knees cramped, my hamstrings cramped, my shins cramped. It was so crazy. I drank more Vitalyte and just tried to keep moving.  We crested a hill and I really wanted to spend just a minute talking to a friend I saw there and catch my breath, but the biting flies had just started to appear. Any time you stopped moving, they started biting! Omg, incentive to get my butt in gear. My friend Spring caught up to me, we groaned and griped about how miserable we were and how awful our feet felt. Sometimes it's nice to complain to someone who feels your pain. We jogged into the aid station together, and it looked like a triage center. Runners were sitting in any available chair or surface and shoulders were slumped in defeat. It was hot and oppressive. One of my friends who I hadn't seen in a while was trying to regroup and gather enough energy to tackle one of the hardest climbs of the race. Of course, Spring left a minute before me and I couldn't catch her. Darn it.

I left the aid station after getting some more ice water in my pack and my bottle. It was just as miserable as I had been expecting. Someone told me later that the temperature in this canyon was 108°. Looking back, I can see why it was miserable. But I didn't have that information then. I was chugging along and came it a blissfully shaded spot, I attempted to sit down for a second and almost immediately jumped up because the biting flies were now out in full force. Arggggg!  Every freaking time I attempted to stop, more biting flies. My friend Neil passed me and I was hoping the flies would be attracted to the fresh meat, I mean, guys are tougher about being bit by bugs, right? No reprieve. Still biting me.  Every person that I came up to or who passed me was expressing similar thoughts to what I was feeling 'I want to drop at the next aid station.' I saw two guys who were headed back down to the previous aid station to drop, not wanting to make the climb in the heat. (Everything written about dropping says drop at an aid station. If you think about dropping in between, drop at the next one.) But honestly, heading downhill as opposed to up sounded good. Dropping sounded good. I caught up to a veteran running friend, she's tough as nails and she was walking and debating dropping. What in the world?  The flies were ridiculous. You know those funny videos of someone swatting away at an unseen fly or bee, who looks crazy because you can't see what they are swatting at? I looked like that. My friend directly ahead of me looked like that. Any exposed surface was a potential target. They swarmed our hats, our shoulders, our backs and our legs. My death toll count for flies was 15, I got 15 of those suckers and didn't even get close to the number of bites that were inflicted on me.  I have never seen anything like this before. Prior to leaving the last aid station (Pine Creek) I saw a bottle of something on the table that I think was bug repellant, but it was probably just rub-on sunscreen.  I was death marching, swatting, swearing and day dreaming of that bug repellant. I've never day dreamed about wanting something so much. Our conga line of misery continued on. 'I just need to make it to night fall.'  That's all that was going through my mind. But making it there felt impossible right now. I couldn't even make it to the next aid station for heavens sake.  I felt like we walked forever, everyone was in terrible shape and 80% of the people capable of talking kept talking about dropping. We finally made it to the Penny Pines 1 aid station, and if possible it was even worse than Pine Creek. People were laying on the ground, slumped in chairs, or handing over bibs... I told myself I had some time to spare. I'll give myself a few minutes, let my crew know I was taking some extra time at the aid station and see how I felt. Because right now I felt defeated and beaten down.

My main concern was light. I was hours behind schedule and had no headlamp. I did however have my phone and a small amount of charge left on it, it was time to stop listening to my book and save the battery. The two guys laying on the ground next to my chair said that last year at that time they were at mile 57 (where I had anticipated being at this time) and they were dropping. One of the guys under the shade of the tent had been anticipated to finish in 21 hours (He would finish in 29:45). Needless to say, I was concerned. After what felt like 20 minutes, but was probably 30, I pried myself out of the chair and got moving. While at the aid station I had 2 cups of soup, a coke and had taken time to put more foot lubricant on. I couldn't wait for a new pair of shoes. I sent a text to my crew to ask for my mile 56 bag (which contained my change of clothes, headlamp, flashlights and new shoes) at the mile 48.8 aid station, and to see if my crew chief felt up for running 7 miles with me. I really felt like staying at this aid station, but I had told myself that only serious injury or the race people making me stop would make me drop. Neither of those things were imminent. So I gathered my fellow crazy fly swatting friend and we left. I had no cellular service at the aid station, so I wasn't sure if my crew was getting info or if I would reach them before the info did. I ran on in blind faith that they were smart folks and would anticipate my needs. And I did, I ran. It felt so great to finally be able to run again after having to walk up the mountain. If the ground was flat, I ran. If it was downhill and not rocky, I ran. After a while I took my phone out of my vest and used it as a flashlight and kept running. My battery was at 15%, and because of my wrong turn, I wasn't sure exactly how far I had until my aid station. So I stuck with a runner who was running/walking a little slower than I would prefer, but I didn't know how much longer my light would last.  I finally saw the aid station, knew I could get a long sleeve, headlamp, and some new shoes. Hallelujah! 

I was so far behind my projected pace, but I had finally made it to night fall and the temperatures went down slightly. But at least there was no more sun. It was a shame I had this portion at night, because it is a beautiful section of the mountain. I picked up my crew chief/pacer and headed back into the Meadows, this time equiped with a headlamp! Again, I ran the flats and downhill as long as they weren't too rocky and fast walked the uphills. Before long we made it to mile 56 and my planned pacer. A short 1.3 miles before the true aid station and a steep and steady downhill. It was amazing to see all the runners headed back up. I wished I was one of them at this point, because the hardest section of the race was ahead of me. I crossed paths with two of my running friends and they looked so strong coming up. The worst part about going down, was knowing I had to make the same climb up again. 2,000 feet of climbing, and I kept going down, and down and down... I made it to the aid station (finally) and out again with about 30 min to spare. They didn't have anything that looked appetizing, so I had 2 sips of soup. I was slowly getting closer and closer to getting cut. My pacer was doing a great job trying to get me motivated to move faster, but I was tired and cranky. We did make forward progress. I was staring enviously at the trekking poles that several of the people passing is were using. Were they worth the effort? Were these people as tired as me? If not, why not?????? Ugh, I was sooooooooooo slow.  We attempted to run flat parts, but this segment did not have an excess of flat areas. I tried fast hiking, but that wasn't working well for me. I knew I just had to get to the top in time. Then it would be runnable. And my legs didn't hurt to run flat, just the lifting required for climbing hurt. When we finally made it into the flat portion that signalled we were close to the aid station we started running. Too little, too late. Unfortunately we were 12 minutes past the cut off for this aid station. I may have been more heart broken if we missed it by 1 minute, but getting cut was painful. Many of the people who had passed me climbing the mountain were still in the aid station, waiting for a ride to the start/finish. Part of me was so happy to no longer have to run, but most of me was so sad that I didn't make it and would no longer have the opportunity to run more. 

This guy said I could blame him and call him the jerk who wouldn't let me go on.  That was awful nice of him, because it wasn't him. I'm well aware of that. It was me. It all comes down on me and wasted time in certain areas and lack of aggression in others. And, inexperience. It was my first 100 attempt. I had really hoped to make it. I've never dealt with a DNF before.  It's now 4 days later, absolutely nothing hurts except my pride. I want to run that race right now. 

Will I try again, absolutely. My family gave the ok to try it again. 

Am I looking forward to the mega miles involved in training? No. 

Will I do them? Of course.

Will I run smarter? Absofrickin'lutely. 

What did I learn? I need to eat more. Plan for the unexpected. Eat more. Use sunscreen. Eat more. Use bug spray. Eat more....

What do I regret? I regret asking so much of my friends and family for this race. My friends and husband missed work so I could do this race. My crew took the day off. They drove an hour to come out and see me for maybe 5 minutes. Spent lots of time standing around and waiting, time better spent doing other things. I love that they love me enough to do it though. I have amazing friends and family. After my drop, I found out so many people had been following my progress online. 

I can't believe I have to wait a full year to try again. 

PCT 50 2016 race recap

Another year rolled around and another chance to run the PCT 50. Last year we had a freak snow storm in the mountains the day before the race, which made everything a little more interesting. This year I felt like it was the opposite. The weather report indicated that it would be dry, warm and windy.

In the mountains, windy can be dangerous. During one of our practice runs, it was so windy that we had to occasionally stop running during gusts to make sure we weren't blown off the edge. There are several sections of completely exposed areas that can make running in true high winds challenging. And winds really make the hardest part of getting ready for a race harder, what am I going to wear? (Yeah, I know, I'm such a girl sometimes.)  After much debating with my fellow sister runners, we decided tank tops and shorts with sleeves and gloves. Well, after the first 2 miles we didn't need the gloves or the sleeves.

But enough about the high fashion of ultra running, what actually happened? Were there any snakes? Did you fall down? Did you crash and burn horribly? I know you have sooooooo many questions!

Race morning started out early, as they all do. My friend M drove me to the start (same as last year) and my family would come and get me afterwards. I know, I'm pampered. I'm Asian and a woman, so apparently my day driving skills are already marginal at best, so my husband thought it best to drive me home. The last two years it was very much needed because I was a wreck, better safe than sorry.

Pre-race silliness.

As the race director started the race, and everyone was jockeying for position, I eased into an opening to make my way down the terribly uncerimonious start. The race starts you out in a ditch, literally. We slowly wound our way under the interstate and began our meandering climb. The first 13 miles of this race are a slow and sometimes arduous climb over occasionally rocky ground. It was an absolutely beautiful morning! I felt like Goldilocks, it wasn't too hot or too cold, my arm warmers were rolled down around mile 2 and I was so excited to M at 3.7 miles so I could hand off my very unnecessary gloves. The next 2 miles or so follow a ridge line that makes passing a little risky, so anyone unhappy with their position in the conga line of runners sprinted for a better position. But, really? It's 3.7 miles into a 50 mile race. There is sooooooooooo much more running to do.

Coming into the first aid station I was greeted by one of my favorite trail runners Jeff (the one who first started getting the ultra bug in M's head). I grabbed some snacks (orange slices and the world's driest pretzel), had a friendly volunteer tie my arm warmers to my pack in case I needed them later and I headed out of the aid station to start the real climb. This section will also be in SD100, so I'm making myself LOVE it, every single rock. This is the section where I noticed the most people start to fade. People who were previously snarky and not overly pleasant to run with were suddenly falling farther and farther behind. I tried to implement a fast walk over sections that were not very runnable and run any section I was able.

Before long the next aid station came along! My very fast friend, Ricky and M were there to cheer us and offer lots of words of encouragement. I noshed on more oranges, refilled my pack with water (added some citrus Vitalyte powder) and headed out.  This aid station is one of my favorite sights, because now the course levels out and the scenery changes. And after a hard 7 miles of climbing, it is finally nice to be able to run. It was fun to keep swapping spots with the same few people for this segment until the next aid station came into sight. I always worry I will miss this aid station because it is down the hill from the actual trail, and you need to check in and out of each aid station. It's always so well marked, and they usually have a volunteer telling you about the turn, but I still worry about it. This aid station, Todd's Cabin, is 17 miles into the race, so ONLY 8 more miles until the turn around! Whoohoo!

Leaving the aid station the course rolls a little more until you break free of the tree line and get exposed to the sun again. On the plus side, you start a gradual downhill run until the next aid station at Penny Pines. On the negative side, it's an out and back course, and what goes down must go back up. I finally saw some of the front runners around mile 20/21. It was so nice to see how strong they all looked! As I made my way down, and down, and down the mountainside, I took an aggressive turn and nearly ended up on my face when I planted my foot in a pile of loose sand as opposed to hard rock. I couldn't decide whether to laugh hysterically or just keep running. I decided to keep running. The course came upon another beautiful ridge line, this one overlooking the Anza Borrego Desert. So amazing, usually we stop and take a moment to admire the view, but not today! And boom, suddenly I was at Penny Pines and so many friendly faces came in view. Everyone was so happy and cheerful, and you know what? It was a great time to be cheerful! 22 miles in the bag and only 3 to the turn around.

My pacer, Neily, was waiting for me as well, she will get to run the final 22 miles with me to the finish. I gave away free sweaty hugs to all my friends, ate some salty watermelon chunks and potatoes, and left to go to the turn around. I love this segment because I get to see so many of my friends. And I got to see every single one of them, except Scooby,  who I saw earlier because he is crazy fast. I managed to get a picture of everyone smiling and happy. At the turn I was greeted by 2 amazing ultra runners, Ang and Scotty. It was so nice to see them. Partially because now I can turn around, but also because they are genuinely fun people and so happy to see how you are doing during the race. A little joking around and some shenanigans and off to run back to the start.

Beer with Scotty

Ang mugging for the camera with me.

Back to Penny Pines and pick up Neily for the final 22 miles. In addition to Neily, I added Dave to my posse. So we spent 22 lovely miles getting to know about one another. I've been trying to work out my nutrition lately, usually any runs longer than 45 miles I end up a nauseous mess. So I wanted salty, calorie dense food. I packed prosciutto in my drop bag, it was so delicious! Yes, I was eating prosciutto on the trail (we already verified I'm a little spoiled, right?). 

My 'posse': Neily, me and Dave. 

The return from Penny Pines to Todd's Cabin is a grind. The fun, easy, gradual downhill is now a slog back uphill. And it's exposed and pretty warm. This is also the where your stomach can start to go south. So, more fast walking and trying to eat and drink. My first PCT, this section killed me. My second I expected it and tried to not meander, I felt like this year I did better on it. It was so hot, and so very dry. My lips kept drying out and my cough was worse than normal. I really wanted an ice cold coke at Todd's Cabin, that is a thought that took root and settled in my mind. I finally caught my friend Spring at mile 28 and we spent a few miles toggling for the lead.


When we finally saw the turn to Todd's Cabin, I saw 2 little boys sitting just off the course with their grandfather, I starred hard and thought they looked an awful lot like Spring's boys, but I've never met them. I came awfully close to asking, but decided against it. As we got to the aid station, and had a cup of Shasta cola with a single ice cube (as close to a cold coke and I could get), Spring came into the aid station and asked if I saw her boys up top. Lol, it was them! I munched on some watermelon to go with my cola and headed out of the aid station with my little posse. 17 more miles to go. I can't recall too much of this portion, I just recall being warm, wanting something ice cold to drink, and to be done. But when the trees started to thin out and we came within view of Dale's, my spirits picked up.

Dale's means 13 miles left, overall downhill. Rocky, hard to find your footing downhill. The second leg (or in this direction, the next to last leg) is always so incredibly slow. I never feel like it's going to end and I will get to see the aid station in the helicopter landing area (I don't know if it really is a helicopter landing area, but that's what it looks like to me). We slogged on, nothing hurt like crazy, but I was just tired. As we made our way slowly to the end, we saw another runner ahead of us on the trail, and suddenly she came running back towards us. Yikes! Snake! We grabbed some rocks to try and scare it off the trail so we could run past, and after a few tense minutes, we finally saw him leave. We did not waste any time running past.  Well, that bit of excitement got us moving until the last aid station! I was so glad to see it, I had to pee pretty bad and after the whole snake debacle I was not prepared to venture off into the shrubs. I asked one of the volunteers which bush made the best coverage and he directed me behind a car, good enough for me.

I had more watermelon, some orange slices and got ice water dumped on me (surprise!). Then my posse and I headed out for the final 6 miles. Whoohoo! Last year I felt like the walking dead leaving the aid station, this year I was practically dancing to get done. I probably should have turned on some music, I really would have been dancing.  We made the slow trek to the start line, and about 4 miles out I could feel my stomach start to make a turn south. Instead of just ignoring it because it was only 4 more miles, I forced myself to eat a gel. After another mile I felt better. The last bit looks all the same, so it's hard to judge how far until the finish, so you kind of have a rollercoaster of emotion for being done. At the next to last gate you get giddy, almost done! Voices start filtering through from people waiting at the finish area and you are just so happy to be done.

This year I ran PCT in 11:48. I'll take that time! I approached this race as a training run for SD100 in 3 weeks, feel out the nutrition and don't overdo it, and save my legs for the big race.  It was so great to see so many friends out cheering, volunteering, pacing, snapping pictures and just plain being awesome!

My hubs. He had kids soccer, a birthday party that kept getting extended, carting around our brood and some other kids and making the drive out to get me! Such a rock star today, and my biggest supporter. 

Robert, me, Spring, Becca and Mark

The whole gang! Louka, Natalie, Robert, Ricky, Becca, Mark, Scooby, me, Sal, David,
(circling back to the front) Gloria, Neily and Steve. Awesome group of runners! 

What to do, what to do?

I can't decide if Facebook and Pinterest are making me a better person or just driving me insane. 

Thanks to Pinterest I have completed 6 scarves in the last 2.5 months and I'm now working on what will become the most expensive throw in my purchasing history. Seriously, I could have bought a designer one for what the yarn is going to end up costing.  And sleep is a distant memory. 

Facebook is great at reconnecting me with old friends and their lives and all, but when I see a post about the amazing (hard as hell) run my friends did that day, it kind of makes me feel inferior. You know what I mean? So now I have it fixated on my head I NEED to go run hills. How am I going to keep up with them in the mountains if I'm not putting in my time? If all my runs are flat and easy, my legs are going to cry when I drag them up a mountain. 

So I went scouting nearby places to run. I recall a route I have only run twice since moving here 6 years ago. It's a hill that is 1.5 miles long. Yuck. But, since the PCT 50 is basically 13 miles straight uphill, under better pull up my big girl underroos and get running. 

On my enjoyable way down the hill, I spot this cute little grassy hill and wonder if the city will get mad at me for doing repeats on it. Or maybe I can just roll down it, that would be fun. 

Do a little house shopping. I'd like to live here I think. 

And boom, now I'm at the bottom and have to run back up. Gulp...yeah, I know what you are thinking. It doesn't look intimidating does it? It doesn't feel that bad when I drive it either. 

At nearly the top I spy a 1/4 mile little hill. Repeats? Why yeah, sure! (Maybe next time I bring more water, gasp!). 

But the view was worth it. A little glimpse of Point Loma and the Pacific Ocean. 

And the next day? Still feeling inferior, find another hill!!!!  (Yeah, that's not a picture of a hill.)

There's the hill. 

And there...

And here.

And a stop to admire another great view (ok, to pant and gasp for air and swear at myself!).

Before starting that trek back. 

And just when I thought I was done. Damn it. One more hill. 

But, my mountain run Saturday was far less painful than I figured it to be. And for my first run back in the mountains since November, I think I did ok. I'll get you those pictures tomorrow. It was a great day out there! 

But I still don't know if I like or hate Pinterest and Facebook. 

What have I done?????

You know that 'holy crap' moment when you realize exactly what you have done? Sometimes it's because you  just spent an obscene amount of money at Costco (you know you've done it), maybe you just bought a ridiculous pair of shoes (guilty), or you just bumped your car into something (yikes!). Yeah, that moment. I've been living that moment since getting confirmation that I was accepted to run in the San Diego 100 Mile Endurance Run. What?????? The stuff just got real. Really, really, real.

Remember my last race? It's kinda hard for me to forget it. And I would love to! I liken it to paying to be tortured for over 6 hours. Hell on a mountain. A BAD day. With altitude. But.....in for a penny in for a pound I guess. Some people never learn. If you fall off the horse... blah. Blah. Blah. Blah.... So, on June 3, 2016, instead of celebrating the last day of school with my two boys, I will be swearing, cursing, moaning and occasionally running up a few mountains.

How have I been preparing you might ask?

I bought shoes of course! 3 pair of Altras should get me through training and the race, right? Shoes, check!

I'm tweaking my diet to eat a little less junk and better food to help my body run better. It's a work in progress.  Diet, check!

I'm working on overall strengthening. Every year I tell myself that I need to cross train more, this year I'm making it happen. I'm into my second week of overall strength training mixed with some shorter runs. My legs are zapped. Tomorrow I rest and Saturday I have my first decent length run in the mountains with a few dirt lovin' friends.

And so it begins.

Mount Laguna Marathon 11/8/15

Don't let people fool you, don't listen when they say 'ultra runners are the best, they are so nice and welcoming...'.     Ultra runners suck. They con you into all sorts of races. Sweet talkers, every single damn one.  Why? Why? Why did I sign up for this race????? Why?????

I really should have called it a day after Cuyamaca. Boom, first 100k done, it's now fall and 'racing season' is over.  Sleep in, gain weight, rest. Sounds good right?   'It's a great race, it's only 26 miles, you'll love it.'  No, I hated miles 4-26. Hated it. Bleh. Ok, I'm done whining, I just really needed to say it. 

Mount Laguna marathon was a very well put on race. Small and intimate with amazing volunteers. Volunteers are the heart and soul of a race, really. They see you at your most tired and challenged and find ways to help you, they push you out of the aid station, they take time out of their day to feed you, they go out early and mark the course, and then clean up after you run by taking down all the flags that kept you on course. 

Two of my road racing friends like to get a little dusty on occasion and joined me on the trails today. It was a nice and balmy 35 degrees when we arrived at the start, but quickly warmed up to perfect running weather. We really lucked out on the weather today! No rain and no wind. 

The race started out on softly undulating packed dirt roads before hopping in the Pacific Coast Trail. The route joins the PCT at one of my favorite segments of the trail; it's flat, soft ground with great tree coverage. The beginning of the race is a mixture of very runnable hills, with a couple of great drops around mile  6, and again at 17 before a steady climb  from18-20. 

Fall happens in SoCal, you just need to keep your eyes open and visit higher altitudes than the beach.  The views were amazing during the race. It almost made up for how beat down I felt.  I started that morning with an icky stomach, barely managing to eat a slice of bread and a banana.  I also had a whopper of a headache.  Water didn't sound like something I really wanted, so I waited until the first aid station to take some Advil with some Coke. I'll count not drinking anything until mile 5 as dumb move number one. 

I've been running races for about 13 years, primarily half and full marathons, and only recently moved on to the trails. And I've noticed that I need to eat  more when running trails. But my icky stomach kept me from eating. I felt my energy levels drop and my legs getting heavy. So....not eating = dumb move number 2. 

This old rusted out car is a fabulous marker for a popular aid station location up in the mountains. When I see this car, I always know that I'm within 1/4 mile of the aid station at Penny Pines, which really helped today. 

After Penny Pines, I plodded along. Walking, grumbling, occasionally running and just having a grand old pity party. I'm so glad I was not running with anyone for the rest of the race, because it was ugly. Whine, whine, whine. Grumble, grumble, grumble. Ugh. 

 A small 2 miles of climbing before a great downhill run at mile 17, unfortunately my nutrition and hydration had been so bad that by this time I was a wreck. I got to Noble Canyon Trail, but instead of heading downhill (glorious, glorious downhill) the route had us head back up the mountain. Really, it wasn't super steep, but I didn't like it. Not one bit. 

Coming in to the last aid station I told myself I would eat something. Anything! So far that day I had a piece of bread, a banana, 1/4 blueberry muffin, 1/2 a Coke,  3 slices of orange, and 3/4 a packet of very stale Probar chews. Probably not enough to push me through 20+ miles in the mountains. Food, I needed food. Browsing the food available, I saw they had a beautiful, scrumptious, mouthwatering Julian Apple Pie! Hmmmm, I had a half a slice of pie and had a volunteer help me retrieve my bag of roasted cashews from my pack.  I ate half a slice of pie and 6 cashews, it was amazing what some food will do. I felt slightly better. And with only 6 more miles it felt doable. Then they threw in this gem (log below). Ack, climbing that was no fun. I honestly stood back and contemplated first going around (but both ends were in brambles) or going under.  Really, going under. Finally sanity prevailed and I found a way to clamber over. It was ugly and it hurt, but I got over and went on my merry way (can you feel the sarcasm?). 

The portion of the race that shall be referred to as 'that damn log.'

Don't get me wrong, I was still pretty wrecked, and I stopped at every opportunity to take a pictures (photos below!). But, I was determined to not let anyone pass me. No one had done so for a few miles now, and that's really all I had left mentally. 'Don't let anyone pass you.' 

The Meadows aka The Biggest F'ing Field in the World.

A reminder that this is the great outdoors and predators are all around us.

Finally, an indicator to the finish! 

We were told that the last few miles would be gently rolling with a climb at the end. I enjoyed the gently rolling portion a lot. I didn't enjoy the sadistic climb at the end. 

A cruel cruel climb to the end. 

Whoop whoop, coming in with a smile.

Ah, sweet sweet finish.

So happy to be done. 

I can say, in all honesty, that I got my butt handed to me in this race. I didn't train adequately, I didn't hydrate, and I certainly didn't eat well the day of the race. What did I learn? Don't freaking take a marathon for granted. 26 miles is a long way to run, and you (I) really need to prepare, get your (my) head on right and eat something.  And that pie is good. If they have pie at an aid station, have some.  Pie is so very good during a race. 

Cuyamaca 100k Oct. 3, 2015

Races seem like a much better idea when you are in the comfort of your own home, cozy, sated, hydrated and NOT running. 

Last weekend I participated in the Cuyamaca 100k Endurance Run. My best description of this race would be: the slowest and hardest 50k I've ever run ... followed by another 50k.  You can read more, but that's the bare bones of the race. 

I registered for this race late and was waitlisted for over a month. In the meantime I ran a timed 24 hour race (Julian Station  Full Moon Ultra). After completing 64.8 miles, in 0.57 mile loops, I settled in my car to drive home. Imagine my surprise when I randomly checked the waitlist and saw that I was the pending applicant for the Cuyamaca 100k. 

After a one month taper/recovery from  Julian Station, the morning of the race arrived. The race starts at 630 sharp, and is located approximately an hour drive away. M actually volunteered to drive me to the start, and my family would pick me up. Having been told by the race director that parking could be challenging, we planned in arriving at 5am, giving us plenty of wiggle room the morning of the race.

We were fairly surprised that after several weeks of scorching weather, we exited our car to temps in the high 30's. We were unprepared for this little development. But thankfully the main hub to check in and gather was indoors, and so much more comfortable. I picked up my bib and race goodies and met up with friends. Now the wait....

Ready to run!

The race started off with gentle rolling hills and scrub allowing the pack spread out. I tried not to get sucked up to the front of the pack at the start, knowing my speed limitations. Primarily, I do not have much speed!  I'd love to say 'I felt great! Everything was going according to plan!' But frankly, my hamstrings hurt and my Achilles was annoying me. Attempting to settle into a nice easy run, I had a chance to chat with lots of other runners.

The race is broken up into 3 loops (32, 12 and 18 miles) and each loop is assigned a color. Each runner is given a bracelet at the start to designate what color markers you should be following and exchanged for a different color bracelet when each loop is completed. This really came in helpful later, when the paths intersect and you are very tired. 

The first aid station came around mile 8, and to tell the truth, I had no idea where the aid stations were located. You know that friend that never knows the route or how to get there? Today that was me. Some runners come with a plan, course/nutrition planned out, etc. I arrived with stuff I think I might need and stuff I hope I won't need and just ran. At the aid station I asked my helpful volunteers 'soooooo....... how many miles to the next aid station?' Or just look for the signs they had posted. 

Loop 1 is definitely the most challenging, not only is it the longest, but you have the biggest and longest vertical climb contained in it.  You are still trying to pass slower runners, and making way for faster runners.

I spent most of the first 50k playing leap frog with my friend G. She would have a good stretch, leave me behind, then I'd play catch up and vice versa. Where the first 8 miles were lovely and undulating, the next 14 were (what felt like) an unrelenting straight uphill march, in the sun. Perfectly beautiful and absolutely treacherous if you choose to simultaneously admire the view and attempt to make forward progress. Sticks, stones, and uneven paths made it difficult to look around. 

Mixed in with the climb, you also have the opportunity to run through tall grass and hope your foot isn't going to step on something slithery or a hole. Always exciting.

The volunteers at the Peak were amazing. They ran out to relieve you of your pack to get anything you might need or want started before you get there. I met my pacer (if i decided I wanted one) and the top and she showered me with attention. She also made me take 3 salt pills, something I had never taken before, but I'm fairly certain saved me during the run.

A short stop to admire the view that my hard work earned me before heading downhill to the campgrounds.  That's when the real fatigue started in. I was certain I started feeling tired just after mile 28. And I still hadn't completed the first loop, and still had more than half the race left. I was also SUPER hungry! Real food hungry. I didn't want my gels, or chomps, or water. I wanted a pizza. A whole pizza. 

I settled for a dry turkey sandwich after I made it back to the campground and started out on loop 2. I think by far, loop 2 was my favorite. It was beautiful and peaceful. And short. I couldn't help but take the time for a picture of the lovely tall grass. 

Some runners I was trying to catch in the distance. Little black specks.... see them?

Looking decent, if not feeling if not

awesome.  

About 2 miles before G got a good radio station and ditched me.

Gators, gators everywhere!!!

This aid station was a sight for sore eyes, and arms. I started feeling a hot spot on the backs of both arms about 1-2 miles out from this aid station. So I spent a good portion of that time running with my arms out to my sides. Backs of my arms, how completely random and weird. But the 'Gator Pond' had a hugetub of Vaseline to help, and some great spirits to boost my tired spirits. 

Never a good thing to be warned of, but always good to know! 

I finished loop 2 just as the sun was setting, so the final 18 miles would be in the dark. Thank goodness a friend told me that it would be windy at Sunrise highway, because I just wanted to be done, and may not have taken the time to change if she didn't mention it. I switched over to a longsleeve, downed some soup and grabbed my headlamp.

Back up the hill, this time following the yellow tape flags marking the course. I ran by myself, chasing G who left the campgrounds as I was came in. Running in the dark was surreal. I don't know if it was the excitement of this being the final loop, the cooling temperature or just having some food in my stomach, but I ran a fair portion of the flat grassy section. I kept an eye out for the mountain lions because I kept smelling what I thought was mountain lion urine (that, and I remembered that sign earlier). I was sure there was a pissed off feline hiding in the grass just waiting to pounce. It picked up my pace a bit.   No mountain lions sighted.

I finally caught up to some headlamps in the distance. I did a nice fast hikes up the hills, ran on the flats, and ran runnable portions of the downhill. The headlamps (and the fatigue) made finding my footing a little tricky on the rocky downhills. 

I was so menally drained, that at one point I kept thinking that the mist/fog patches that we kept going thru were the result the cold air condensing my breath. It wasn't until a fellow runner mentioned the fog that it even occurred to me that there was any! 

I finally caught up with G at Sunrise highway, mile 51. Only 11 more miles to go!!! I had been worrying about at what point in the race my stomach was going to turn on me, and so far it was cooperating. I left Sunrise in good spirits and excited about being SO close to the finish. Five miles to the next aid station. Five rocky miles. 

At the final aid station I was still feeling ok and planned to run as much of the remaining 6 miles as I could. I should have been prepared for the wheels to fall off...  The first 2 miles were great. Excitement for nearly finishing and non dead legs propelled me. Until my stomach said 'Ok, enough. I'm tired of bouncing. I want to be done.' Then every time I attempted to run nausea flooded through me. I could walk, and I could hike fast, but I could not run. And I didn't think it was bad enough to take the time to remove my pack and get my crystalized ginger to nibble on. But it was time. I did 2 more miles at a fast walk. Watching my estimated finishing time slip by, then the estimated finishing hour slip by. I was demoralized. This sucked. 

Time to stop being a baby and suck it up and go. I tried to run, made it 20 yards before my stomach really let me know it didn't appreciate my efforts. Tried again, made it 10 feet, same results. But, now I felt so much better! And it was downhill,  time to run. 

I was able to run more than I walked the remaining 2 miles and finally finish. 17:32. Not stellar, but given it was my first 100k on a true trail, I'll take it. 

I came into the race without the proper respect to the distance. It was only 12 miles more than a 50 miler, right? I forgot that 50 miles was damn tough, and I still needed to get there before getting to the additional 12. Live and learn. I'm so glad I had my family at the end to bring me home and my great running friends waiting to cheer me into the finish. I know that if I had never started running with the Trail Crashers, I would not have even signed up for, or finished this race. Thanks guys!