Ain't nothin wrong with that

Old Gabes 50k

2009-07-20T17:43:00.019-06:00

Results are here

Pictures are here and here

I was writing my Hardrock race report but Tom Hayes, RD of Old Gabes sent out the pictures from Old Gabes 50k in Bozeman and I felt a compulsion to remember. This was a race I ran two weeks before Hardrock and it brought back good memories so I will do a short (yeah right) report. I did this race two years ago after I had dropped from Big Horn 50 for being (what I thought) was undertrained. Nowadays I will run anything because you figure out that you can finish just about any race no matter how trained or untrained you are. But 2 years ago, I was into self punishment so I signed up for Old Gabes with all the climbing and fell in love. My goal was as always, not to poop myself (ongoing) and to beat my time from 2007.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love Bozeman. I am a member of their co-op and have so many friends that I met through races there, so it's great to get back up there. Chris was doing the 25k and his feet were holding together nicely lately, literally. There was no pre-race meeting so we could take our time getting to Bozeman and planned on camping at the start. I love Tom and Liz's races; they are sparsely if ever marked, aid is where you need it, not where you want it and the scenery and folks are spectacular and of course, they don't break the bank which works for this unemployed fool.

Our friend Todd Cedarholm was going to be running the 50k as well so we had a little Jackson representation. We picked up our bags at 5:30am and there was a sweet shirt in there, one of those silky lightwear numbers that I love, score. Threw our crap in the car, pinned on our number and listened to Tom's last minute instructions. It was fairly cold at the start, but Chris was acting like it's a lot colder, must be the leftovers from the frostbite. He's in the green.

We took off, me like a tortoise. I have figured out my m.o. on races. I start every race feeling like I just finished a hard 50 miler. My legs feel dead, I can't catch my breath and I am usually pretty close to last. I love how people hang behind me even though I know they want to go faster and say no to my request for them to go around. Then after the race, they thank me for making them start out really slow. Yeah, no problem...Todd. He was there, hanging behind me but keeping me company because he could just chat away, plenty of air for him.

Old Gabes has about 12000 feet of climbing in this little darling 50k and is a series of two out and backs with big climbs and some steep descents. I mean you got to fit that 12000 feet in somewhere. Upon closer inspection of the profile which is here, I noticed that the number that says GAIN shows 13012 feet which equals a lot of climbing, more than Speedgoat. Tom gleefully told me that Old Gabes was almost exactly 1/3 of Hardrock which was a huge downer because I remembered not being able to walk that well after finishing in 2007 and surely thinking there was no way I could do that two more times, even if simultaneously, the bogeyman was chasing me and there was a Little Debbie Nutty Bar dangling in front of me. Maybe if there was a bigfoot sighting I might go on, but I was doubting that.

Tom and Liz also said that there would be a fun glissade into the Bostwicks, which is a wicked descent off the first climb. Sweet, less downhill to run, I thought. I remembered the first climb to be a good uphill slog but really beautiful. Todd and I are chatting (really I am just nodding my head) and I am heading up a train of people "wanting to go out slow". Liz is usually at the top of the first climb and she can cheer and ring a cow bell like nobodys business. She's a great runner is her own right and we were both mistaken for being over 60 in this years Ultrarunner great performances so we got a laugh out of that. So I get to the top and she warns us not to glissade because the snow is bullet proof. I guess the first few people got to the top, threw themselves over to glissage only to leave some much needed skin on the snow. One more reason to not be in front.

So a bunch of us clam walk down except Todd. Seems that Todd has some hidden talent so while the rest of us were clinging to branches and doing the Leonard Butt Slide (more on that in the Hardrock story), Todd suddenly has the ability to run downhill, very fast on ice. Didn't see him again until the turnaround. So we get past the hairy part and start a nice descent. I commented to another girl that I thought we went straight instead of heading off to the right and up another nasty climb. Thankfully no one listened to me because that was the wrong way that about 4 of the front runners took and ended up with 68k finish.

I had seen an old friend Frank Fumich from the GT races and he and I flip flopped until the turnaround of the first climb. I knew what was waiting at the turnaround, pickles. Tom got me started on pickles and I have to admit, I only eat them in Bozeman at Old Gabes, every other place, they are disgusting. But something about it being hot outside and pickles being so salty just suits me. I even had some pickle juice and was back on my way. Frank passed me some ways up the mellow uphill before the scamble. He was looking strong, training for UTMB.

I knew what awaited me, a down on all fours climb back up to the Bostwicks and it was all it promised to be. I passed a few people on the way up and together we made our way. Thankfully we were able to skirt the snow on the way back up and Liz had that cow bell ringing and Juniper, their dog was barking for someone to throw the stick at the top. I got to the top and refilled my bladder and was off again. I have been fighting ITBS since I started running again this Spring and the downhill was proving to be a challenge. I took it pretty easy and worked on putting my torso forward over my feet and that seems to help.

It was heating up as I made my way down to the start/finish area but I knew that I would head immediately out again. I saw Chris, who did great in the 25k and he helped me refill and get some food in me. He would be crewing at Hardrock so it was good to get some system going. Mainly me telling him what I needed without a lot of please and thank yous in between each request, short and sweet, euro style. He got me on my way and I headed for what was considered the easier half.

In 2007, I had one heck of a black period on this section and it lasted for exactly one hour. I felt okay this year and was alone except for one guy who passed me looking way too fast to be behind me. I found out later that he was one of the leaders who ran an extra 10 miles or so in the Bostwicks. He went by me and then some girl going the wrong way in some sweet bright knee socks showed up and I pointed her to the finish of the 25k. Climbed through an avalanche path that looks sketchier than it is. Those are our friends Ann and Kurt. Then I was alone to climb, one of my favorite things. It's fairly mellow climb (for the course) and it was in the shade, granted hot shade but nevertheless.

So I got my time alone and enjoyed the people coming back my way. The lead guy, looking remarkably fresh (don't they always) came at me pretty quickly into my climb. I also saw Clem who was also doing Hardrock so said a quick hi to him. I was finally done with the climb and enjoyed the long downhill into the canyon. The trail seems popular so I passed a lot of people with their dogs out for a walk the closer I got to the turn around, love the poochers out there. Finally got to the turnaround and made fast work of some coke and pringles and of course, a big fat pickle. I got out of the aid station before some brothers who were mixing their drink concoction but figured they would re-pass me and I might have some company for a while.

Started back up with my hands full of food. I have always been lucky to not have stomach problems on runs and I try to get my money's worth at races too. I finally got the food down and was back at my powerhike. The climb back up didn't seem too bad and I was trying to calculate the mileage once I got to the top but it was fuzzy math. I saw someone ahead with about 4 miles to go and I was hoping I didn't have to pass her. I am not a big fan of passing people at the end of a race. I followed behind her for a while appreciative of the walking breaks but finally caught up to her and asked her if she wanted to finish together saying that we might be able to break 9 hours. She was having knee problems and said to go ahead and she would try to hang with me.

I knew once I got to the avalanche path again, I had about 2 miles to go and when I got to the turn, I had 1.5. I caught up to a guy running at a good pace and we doing the "you go" "no you go". So we decided to go together seeing neither one of use gave a crap about where we finished. His name was Steve and he was RD for the Elkhorn 50 in Helena which has always sounded fun and low keyed, just like Steve. It was nice to have the company and we both increased our pace to get to the finish.

We crossed the bridge and were done. I soaked in the creek for 10 minutes which impressed people but the key is to keep your shoes on. It's your feet that usually make you get out early and you always clean your shoes in the process.

Sat around for a little while cheering in other finishers and drinking beer out of my new silver mug with the caribener. Then it was on to the pizza party. I had run into my friend, Fran and she said we could shower at her house but we ended up at Tom and Liz's place showering (thanks guys!) and then because we were all so hungry, we sat at their table and ate all the snack food we had. Then onto pizza and good schwag. I won some detergent for stinkyware and Chris got a headlamp. I also won my brand new age group, 40-49 so I had the choice of a mug or a trophy and being the guttonous fool I am, I went for the trophy, see below.Granted there were only like 4 girls in the 50k and they were all younger than me, but a win's a win.

We ate about 3 pizzas and had a great time talking with everyone but it was time for bed. We headed over to Fran's purple house on Lamme Street and I got to meet her husband, Kevin who I immediately liked. Fran has a dog walking business and she doesn't use leashes, dogwhisper style. We sat around the kitchen table catching up on things and petting her dog, Bok Choi who has run almost the entire Cascade Crest with her.. We slept in the truck with Miss Sophie who did great on her first ultra race car trip.

So I improved my time from 2007 by 45 minutes so that was good. I felt better the next day and that's good. So now it was 2 weeks to taper for Hardrock and there ain't nothing wrong with that.

2009 Hardrock 100

2009-07-13T16:23:00.036-06:00

You know magic when you are in the midst of it.

You just sit still and know that things are going to happen, very good things. You know that are should open your eyes very wide and take in everything that you can. I never stopped to re-live anything I saw or did because I knew everything was going in the very deep recesses of my brain, to be replayed when needed them. When despair hits, I will pull out these memories and they will calm me.Even writing this now, weeks later, I ache to be back there. This place felt familiar in a other worldly way. It was a small mountain town with nice folks and I felt right at home. I camped in my truck in Memorial Park in Silverton and made meals with Allan Holtz the first few nights.

The weather was great and the scenery was unbelievable. We marked course during the day, finding out where to meet and where we were going by cruising down to Charlie Thorn's house on Reese Street. My strides was slow as I walked over there as I tend to slow way down in the week before my races. I met up with my good old friend, Olga, who is so strong and brave. It was great to see her and spend some time catching up on things. You can live through the electronic world for only so long before you have to hike a trail and listen to what's going on in your friends lives. And this was a good time to do it. This was easy living. On Monday, a big group headed up Virginius for a hike/glissade and picture party. It was a great group and we were lucky to get a ride with Jim up to where the aid station would be, 2 miles from the top. Olga, Beat and myself made our way up the steep road towards the pass. This was a snow section that I wanted to see before the race, three pitches with a fixed rope (on race day) on the last pitch.

We were first to arrive and wandered around looking for the right path up.
We waited for the rest of the group (Joe and Joyce Prusaitis, the Coury boys, Charlie Thorn, Larry Hall and Beth Simpson Hall) to point the way and we headed up. I am afraid of most things related to heights and exposure so this was a lesson in butt clenching fear with a smile for me. We headed up and the snow was thankfully soft. I just leaned over on all fours and stayed within about 5 inches of Beat's shoes. I figured if I was that close, there was no way that I could fall backwards to my death. The second pitch wasn't so bad and we made our way to the last pitch. Olga was bravely kicking steps for us and had the three of us go first so we wouldn't get spooked being in a big group. It was obvious that not everyone was afraid of heights as I looked over at the Coury boys and they had sticks, onion skin shoes and were heading straight up on a new line and looked just like Spidermen. Amazing to watch but I had to quickly put my head down or would fall over.

Finally made it to the top which is Kroger's Canteen aid station and literally about a 10 foot flat section that drops precipitously down on both sides. Olga and I scouted the first 100 yards down on the other side because it was straight down and full of loose scree. We did okay scooting on our butt and thought we had a good feel for this section.
Then we head back over and again, Olga leads the way down first so we aren't behind everyone.

I start my glissade without really thinking and it's scary and exciting at the same time to slide down a hellishly steep pitch. We could stop ourselves on the first and second pitch but the last one had me gripped. I was stuck a little ways down. I had to maneuver around a rock outcropping and really had no control. My saviour came in the form of Rob Hacker who was headed up, saw my distress and handed me a pole. My other saviour was Larry Hall who then slide down to me and gave me some pointers and went the rest of the way down with me. Sometimes, being brave means saying you are scared and I was rewarded with these wonderful people helping me and more important, not judging me. That was an eye opener for me and the essence of Hardrock, just nice people wanting everyone to do well. Beth Simpson Hall was at the bottom saying encouraging things and everyone was so supportive in my vulnerable moment. I almost started crying when I got to the bottom and was elated to do the run down.

4th of July was a good day. There was no trail marking and a group of us sat on the back porch of the Avon Hotel, owned by the fabulously mercurial Tommy Burrell and drank beer and watched the fireworks.

Race day got closer and my friends, Julie and Kris got to town. Julie had just finished the Bighorn 100 in great fashion and she would be crewing and Kris would take me from Grouse to Telluride, about 30 miles. My boyfriend, another Chris, would be arriving Wednesday and would pace from Telluride to the finish. I have never had pacers or crew but if there was a time, Hardrock was it.

As I marked the course during that week, I tried to figure out the genius logic to Charlie Thorn's marking. He would hold the metal marker, turn around one way, then the other and finally place one on the trail. Always on the left and I appreciated that rigid commitment to structure because so many times on the trail (or lack thereof) I said, be on the left side of the marker and it helped me find my way. There are no confidence markers at Hardrock. If you are on a road, there's no markers. There might be one where you are going to turn off a perfectly good road onto a cross country portion of the road but that's it. >At first,

I felt this approach to course marking indicated a lack of care for the runners. We were going to be out there for 48 hours and with fatigue, darkness and overall stupidity and I felt that there should be more markers. But upon completion (and not getting lost), I felt that there were just enough. Yes, having pacers helped and being with others who had completed past years helped but knowing there weren't many markers out there kept me focused. Olga let me crash in her room and use the shower, a generous luxury I didn't say no to. We marked other parts of the course over the next few days and I was feeling a bit better about knowing the major turns. Olga, Billy Simpson, Howdy Bob and I run in the last 10 miles and had a great time out there on Monday. Olga and I walked the in and out at Ouray and I felt pretty comfortable with that. Once Larry, Olga's man, got to town, we hit the Ouray hotsprings for some soaking time and then had some mexican.

I didn't study much of the first part of the course as I was hoping that I would be with people during the first 25 or so miles. Kris and Julie got to town on Monday and we tried to go up Handies but got rained out with some lightning and thunder. We ended up eating burritos beside the creek instead. I really didn't need any more mileage on my legs but it's just so hard to pass up these amazing trails. Chris got into town Wednesday and promptly fell asleep after driving two days straight. By Wednesday, I had moved to the Silverton Hostel, run by the gregarious Banjo/Pancho/Francisco, one man, many names. It was nice to bring my stuff inside and be able to spread out to pack my drop bags. Packing these drop bags was no less of an effort than reciting pi in my head to the 48th decimal because you had to try to calculate when you would be at certain aid stations and know what you would need at them, like warm clothes, headlamps and extra batteries.

Knowing that I would be out there two nites, I had to bring most of my warm clothes so I had a stash for Friday nite and one for Saturday nite. I finished packing the drop bags and went to check in for the race. They did a medical check and I picked up a sweet schwag bag with sleeves, performance shirt in girl sizes, socks, gel and other accoutrements. I had this bad lucid dream that I would forget to check in for the race and they would give away my space to one of the frothing at the mouth, hungry waitlisters. These people are a little scary because without even the Promise that they would get to run, they have trained, traveled, packed drop bags and been ready to do on the slim chance that they might get to run. I just don't have that much dedication to anything but I admire and fear them a bit. I was glad to check in and could pooh pooh that bad dream at last.

After checking in and dropping off at least three quarters of the gear I own, we went to eat. I developed two bad habits in Silverton. One being the burritos that some angel makes there and the other was Mother Cluckers. The burritos are works of art, beef brisket with cabbage and chipotle aoli and sausage, green chilis and eggs burritos. If you saw me anytime in Silverton that week, I was either eating those burritos or talking about how I needed to get my hands on more burritos. I went to the grocery store about three times a day to see if they had gotten their delivery. It was bad and when I wasn't consumed with burritos, I was at Mother Cluckers or trying to talk someone into going with me. I went 4 times in 8 days and am still not sick of chicken fingers. So good.

Oh yeah, one more bad habit I picked up. I am back on coffee. I had gone off of coffee last year in an effort similiar to a Gary Busey detox. There was shaking, irritability and intense headaches for about 3 weeks. Then there was merely a very thin existence where, if I talked about coffee or even smell chocolate, I would be hit with more headaches and blurred vision. Finally, I felt like I was past it and tea, while not exciting, was hot. I watched Chris light up his first crackpipe, I mean french press and just smelled it, thinking "that's enough, just the aroma of coffee is satisfying" but oh how we lie to ourselves. The day we ran the last 10 miles of the course, we were all hit with a nasty dehydration/altitude whamer of a headache that only caffeine or a sedative could fix and all the sudden, I'm riding that horse again. Could be worse, I could have a blackberry habit.

Race day is fast approaching, like tomorrow and I feel like I want to start that day, right now, not because I want to get it done but just because of the beauty that awaits us. We had our standard pre-race dinner of grill cheese and tomato soup, always good, can't make you sick. I took a sleeping pill to get to sleep but I usually sleep pretty well before a race. We got up at 4:45, got the all important poop, ate my first of many old lady shakes (generic Ensure) and walked over to start. I didn't have to wait too long in the gym, that place of love and comfort. It's just of gym but there is nothing but support in there; people that want you to do well.

I sat with my friend Todd in the gym and I said, "what I am thinking?" but I pretty much knew what I was thinking. He was pacing AJW and I think it was really the question that Todd was asking himself. He did really well pacing him but Andy dropped him on Virginius but Todd is quick to point out that he came in only about 5 minutes after Andy at Telluride.

So we head outside and Dale Garland, one hell of a sweet RD is standing on the rock and he says that he wants to see all of us back here and has a special message for Leonard, who he definitely wants to see back at the rock. Leonard is a good man, tried 5 times to finish Hardrock and had come up short each time. Mike Dobies is convinced that it's because he carries too much stuff. I'll let you decide. Leonard carries something of a canvas mail sack that he wear across his chest and has what can only be described as a painful looking knot on the shoulder that has to cut into him. Then he has maybe a pack and a fanny pack but maybe just the fanny pack. Then, the best part, he tucks his shirt in then fills his shirt with all kinds of crap - bottles, food, camera, short wave radio, tv/vcr combo, you name it. He runs like I do, not quite convinced that there will actually be aid stations, that it might be a cruel joke. Mike convinced him that he didn't need his cell phone or video recorder which I can only imagine might have looked like this

Leonard was going light and fast for the 09 Hardrock and I think everyone was pulling for him. He's a minor celebrity as the Barkley's Leonard Butt Slide is named after him. I was no stranger from shaking some rocks loose from the nether regions so I was impressed there was a butt slide named after him. Perhaps I could get my name on the Oscar's descent, the Grant Swamp descent or really any Hardrock descent because most of the time, I was not on my feet.

Cunningham Gulch (9.2 miles) 3840 up, 2770 down So we head out, I was behind John DeWalt who I wished a good morning to. I was slow from the beginning, feeling slow and dead legged which is how I always feel at the start of a race. Like I just finished one already. So I hit the first creek crossing and was happy to say hello to a friend that would be with me for the next 45hours and that was wetness. I had trained with my feet wet (thanks Jared and Ty for the advice). Most training runs and races before Hardrock, I would look for a creek and get in it before I started and my feet were better because of it.

We cross Arrastra Creek and saw friend, Nick Coury, who scorched the course last year to became the youngest finisher in 5th place on the other side cheering everyone on. There was a climb and a jeep road but that's all I really remember of the first 7 miles. Really you could say that about the entire course (big climb, jeep road) but I think I was still asleep during the first section. I did remember the first downhill which was about 2 miles of straight downhill switchbacks that I took really easy. I was feeling my typical dead legs and trouble breathing but I knew that it would pass. I got down to Cunningham in about 3:10 which was a little slow but I am not a split person. I quickly got my pack on and ate a little something from my crew and was on my way.

Maggie Gulch (15.3 miles)3160 up, 1700 down The next section also involved, you got it, a big climb. I had hooked up with some guys, Tom from Dillon, CO and Morris from Texas. I love running with guys sometimes because they don't let you complain or maybe I know I am not going to get the same response as I would allaying my pains to women. But we just chatted as we hiked what we had to and ran what we could. Tom was interviewed by a Denver channel at Cunningham aid station and I lamented another opportunity missed for fame. Here's the link to the spot, it's pretty good. So on we went to Maggie Gulch enjoying the amazing scenery. I was climbing well, the legs were feeling better and breathing was clearer.

Pole Creek (19.6 miles) 960 up, 1340 down (covered) Maggie to Pole Creek is a beautiful section and really for me, the only runnable section in the race. It was a cross between Sound of Music without the creepy Nazi vibe and Zippity Do Da without the need to take acid. It was just beautiful. We passed field of Wild Irises, hot pink Indian Paintbrush and tons of Columbine and did I say that I was able to run some? It felt pretty good to trot along in the last of the morning coolness with other runners, Tom and Morris. Alas, the amazing section didn't last, it was only 4.3 miles and we came into Pole Creek aid station. Lots of nice folks in this out of the way aid station so we ate and talked and left.

Sherman (28.7 miles) (1390 up, 3210 down)(covered) Sherman was another drop bag station and I heard it had some good food so I was excited to get there. The up wasn't so bad, beautiful flower filled single track beside the creek. The climbs are my friend. The downhill is that bitch that lives down the street and talks bad about me. She is not my friend, but I act like she is so she won't be meaner. I used to be able to run downhills so free and fast like a gazelle. Now, I am relegated to a fearful lumbering pace similiar in style to Snuffaluffagus running downhill. It's not pretty and it's usually filled with some profanity laced descriptions as well, not for the kids.

We ran down into Sherman, I was with Morris at the time. He looks like Tommy Lee Jones and talks like him too. Needless to say, I asked a lot of open ended questions. Tom had fell back fixing something and I knew he would be back. We get into Sherman and it's starting to heat up as it's around 3:30-4. Morris and I decide we will spend about 5-10 minutes at the station and then head out together if we can. Big section next - 13.4 miles up and over Handies, the high point on the course at 14000+.

I wasn't that hungry even though for the past 1/4 mile before the aid station, there were signs on the trail telling us what food the station offered like a moving menu. As soon as I got into Sherman, I was accosted by the nicest aid station couple that completely and immediately overwhelmed me with their questions. I really do this stuff solo and having help was no help. I asked for some silence as the mind was moving slowly. They filled my bladder and I told them what stuff I wanted to take for the next section, powders, flashlight, pants, etc. They stuffed my pack with my gear, filled up my bladder and sent me on my way with my poles, which I also picked up there. The poles were a question mark.

My friend Mike Ehredt, a veteran runner told me to pick up poles around 25 and use them the rest of the way. They would save my legs at the end. So I dutifully tried to train with them but really felt like I didn't need them. Mike said that he never uses them, except at Hardrock and friend and Hardrock extraordinaire, Kirk Apt uses them too.

I took the poles and met up with Morris and we headed out. About 10 minutes out of the aid station, Morris smacks his head and realizes he forgot his rain jacket and returns to get it. I kept going and enjoyed the time alone. Its funny that as soon as I am alone, I start to doubt my way. There was a guy behind me and I kept making sure he was going the same way. Morris was able to catch up and we made the left hand turn towards Handies. I didn't fill up my bladder at the water stash under the bridge, thinking I had plenty.

We started climbing on the single track that meandered through the woods. We saw Matt Mahoney with his racing flats (sans socks) ahead. Matt had no drop bags, no crew and no pacer, pretty amazing. I passed him with few words and we went on. Somewhere along the way, Tom caught up with us and I was leading the small group of us. We finally break out of the woods and it was a beautiful open high meadow. We could see Handies ahead and I knew that sometimes the approach to a high peak is harder for me than the actual climb, so I took my time. Morris was falling behind at this point and I waited for him a few times. He told me to go on without him but I am always hesitant to do that seeing we all have dark periods and can come back strong.

At the creek crossing, I filled my bladder and Morris's water bottles and Tom and I left him sitting on a rock resting. I didn't see him again. Tom and I started to tackle Handies with our poles clicking along and I realized that I was incredibly glad to have the poles at this point. With a fright I realized my rookie mistake at Sherman - I forgot my head lamp. I had remembered that I had the nice couple put in my flashlight but then the bladder flooded a lot of what was in my bag so I hoped that the flashlight would work. I had miscalculated when I would be down from Handies and into Grouse Gulch aid station. My splits said 7:45pm but it would be more like 10, yikes.

The sun was going down on Handies as we reached the top of Handies and reveled once again in the high thin air, I love being high.It turned out not to be a problem at all; the flashlight worked and was all I needed. Thankfully I had hiked up to American Basin and knew where I was once down from Handies. Olga passed me at this section, running with her amazing downhill abilities. We took this pictureand she ran on. I continued to make my way down, keeping Tom in sight to Grouse.

Grouse Gulch (42.1) 5258 up, 4188 down (covered)
The other thing I had to look forward to was picking up my pacer, Kris Quandt. It would be good to have company and not have to do all the route finding. Kris is a great ultrarunner and I decided I would do exactly what he told me (very unusual behaviour for me). I knew I was probaly down on water and food. I reached the aid station behind on time but wasn't too worried. I wanted to be quick in the aid station and we got out pretty quickly with Julie and Chris's help. I got my headlamp and good flashlight but kept my poles and we were off.

I got caught up on how everyone else was doing and feeling. Olga had left about an hour before and it was good to hear that everyone else was feeling good. Myself, I was doing okay, tired and sore but nothing that was really dogging me. We had a long road up Engineer Pass Road to Oh Point and then a cross county descent that would eventually take us to Bear Creek down into Ouray. I knew this section from Oh Point down from trail marking so I felt that I could put my head down and just hike. It's also nice to have good memories associated with a trail so I was looking forward to being on this section.

We were about a mile (felt like 4) in when we ran into Clem from Bozeman and his wife on the side of the road. Clem and I had done Old Gabes together and a few other races. He's a great runner and I thought it was odd that I was catching up with him. He was experiencing severe dizziness and could barely stay up so we had him sit on the side. His wife asked that we let the next aid station know that he was having troubles. We also said if it didn't get better, maybe turning around would be a good idea. We found out later that Clem made it safely to Ouray where he made the right decision to drop.

We made our way up the 4 miles to Oh Point. One thing you learn at Hardrock is that a mile can feel like many more than one. I thought for sure we should have been to the top so much sooner as I felt like we were moving well. Kris patiently told me each time how much time we had to the top but sometimes you just know that your pacer is lying to you. We fell into a good rhythm and comfortable silence that the night sometimes brings. I do enjoy the night time and even more so with the comfort of my pacer. Finally we made it to the top and I knew exactly where we plunge off the main road to the cross country section to the aid station.
Engineer 48.6 2310 up, 1220 down (covered)
The aid station seemed very remote in the night and the volunteers were very kind and they had a dog. I love dogs and it was such a wonderful feeling to pet this little sweet dog. I had some soup and we moved on. I knew the trail but wasn't moving very fast downhill. I also knew that the toughest section of Bear Creek was still to come. Bear Creek is a trail cut out of the rock suspended above the creek and was really high up. Kris wanted to have a serious talk when my watch hit 20 hours because we were off pace quite a bit. He just wanted to make sure that I was okay not making the time goal and I was. I wanted to continue to feel good and didn't want to push myself for the sake of time. He was good with that answer and we moved on. I took a caffeinated gel at Yellow Jacket Mine and we made it through the scary section of the trail easily but slowly.
The descent to the highway tunnel was on dinner plate scree and went slowly. I knew once we hit the highway, we had about 2 miles to Ouray. I also knew that my sister might be at the aid station so that was something to look forward to but it was also 3:00am so she might be normal and sleeping. We came into Ouray and I knew where to go so we walked towards the park. My sister, Susie was on the side of the road so kindly waiting for me and gave me a hug as I went by. It's amazing what a hug from your sister can do for you.
Ouray 56.5 455 up, 4575 down (covered)
We made it into the aid station and Julie and Chris took great care of me. I wanted to get out fast but I knew what lay ahead for me, Virginius. A group of us had done this section earlier in the week and I got gripped on the descent and had barely held it together on the ascent. Thankfully the sun was starting to come up as we made our way up Old Bird Mine Road and I knew that would melt the snow and make it softer. We started up the road and I was glad that we were covering this road at this time (about 5am) as it can get crowded with jeeps making their way up the road towards either Imogene Pass or toward Virginius. I passed Robert Andrulis and his pacer on the way up and we exchanged "how are yous". There were a few other runners on this section and I welcomed the company.

We finally made it to the aid station and we stayed only to eat something. There were a few other runners that were camped out in front of the fire, which I avoided like the plague. I don't want to get too comfortable at the aid station. We left and headed up towards Virginius. The climb was steep but on a jeep road so we could be two across walking and talking. I saw Bob Combs up ahead taking a break on the side of the road. He looked tired but nothing too bad. He said he would be on his way in a minute so we left him there.

I kept looking for the snow covered Virginius and Kris knew how scared I was and would be. I felt bad for the job Kris faced getting me up there with a minimum of tears. He was great the whole way up. He told me to plant a pole, plant the other pole and then step. So the whole way up, I was Rainman saying over and over,
"Pole"
"Pole"
"Step"
It worked and I made it up the first pitch in spite of the fact that there was a stream running under the snow that made me suck in a breath. The sencond section was easy, a walk up. The third section gave you a choice, you could use the fixed rope on the left, which was steeper but roped. Or you could go up the right side which had steps but was still sketchy. The folks on top of Krogers Canteen were yelling at us to use the fixed rope so that's what we did. It's funny how fear can make something that seems safe still feel like the scariest thing. I held the rope with a white knuckled grip and it felt wet and icy. But we made it to top and to the aid station.

Kroger/Virginius (67.7 miles) 2320 up, 0 down (covered)
I drank some coke at Krogers Canteen aid station which is essentially a ten foot area with sheer drop offs on both sides.I knew the other side down was super steep and would take us into Telluride. I also knew my butt would meet scree on the way down so I threw my pride to the wind, sat down and slid. I thought I would get to a runnable portion but I never could get up a consistent pace down, partly fatigue and just fear. It was, again, slow going down and finally, we reached a place that was switchbacks and there I was able to run and make up some time. Kris was very proud of me for running and I swelled with pride that my pacer was proud of me.

Telluride (72.7 miles) 40 up, 4340 down (covered)
It was hot coming into Telluride and right away I didn't like the energy of the town. I felt stared at, like a dirty hobo coming into town, just felt out of place. We made it to the aid station and they were surprised to see me so soon. I got to pee in a regular toilet and also got a hug from a clean and beautiful Beth Simpson Hall who was picking up Larry for pacing duties. The food was horrible there. I asked for a breakfast burrito as I changed socks and it was so bland, I almost gagged. The mac and cheese was also dismal so I ate what I could and Chris cleaned up my leftovers.

Kris was finished with his pacing duties and him and Julie were leaving directly from Telluride to drive home and get back to work. I thanked them profusely and Chris and I headed out. I needed to get out of Telluride, felt like the town from Poltergiest, weird. Chris is my boyfriend and I was hesitant for him to pace me. It's an odd relationship, the pacer/runner relationship. You don't want someone who is going to let me complain and sympathize with my aches and pains. I need someone who is going to ignore those comments and get me back on track. Chris is the sweetest person I know and I worried that this would be too tough of a job for him.

Chris was so jazzed up to pace that I had to tell him more than once that we were going too fast. I know how hard it is to wait around to pace and then start out slow. He quickly fell into my pace and we hiked. We went around the closed trail sign and started the climb. I remembered Robert telling as we hiked up Old Bird Mine Camp road that the climbs got smaller from that point on so I was looking forward to a shorter climb. Chris assured me that it was a smaller climb...only 4500 foot climb. For some reason, that pissed me off. And like mileage, you think are done climbing way before you actually are. We made it to the first false summit and I thought how good I was doing, then realized we had more climbing to do. I thought the same thing as we reached the second false summit.

We ran into Michelle and her boyfriend who informed us that we weren't even close to the top and I immediately disliked him. We passed them and went on. Up ahead, I could see Olga and Larry and knew that they would leave us on the downhills but it would be nice to visit for a minute. We finally caught up to them right near the talk and Larry was pissed off too because of the long climb. I think he felt betrayed by the climb, decipitively long and tough and we all felt that way.

We now had a long and brutal descent into the aid station. Olga and Larry went on and Chris and I struggled down the pea sized scree on a sever grade. I just couldn't run on it and it was frustrating. It was so slow at times that I sat down on a ground and cried. At the same time I was crying, I was hoping that I would just slide down from there. The descent took forever and fried my quads in the meantime.

At that time, I only had one overwhelming feeling and that was I wanted to be back in Silverton. It had felt like home for the last week, the mother's arms that would comfort me and I wanted to be back there really bad. Finally we came into Chapman Gulch and found Olga not happy as well. It was a good section to cry over and I told her of my tears on the descent, hopefully that made her feel better.

Chapman Gulch (82.0 miles) 4500 up, 3090 down (covered)
There were a few other folks in the aid station and we exchanged hellos. Don Platt and I had been together for a while and I told him how glad I was to be done with Viriginius because of my fear of exposure. He said the most uncomforting thing and that was "if you think Virginius is bad, wait until you see Grant Swamp". I put him on my mental list of people I intensely disliked. We ate some delicious mac and cheese and beef brisket, totally hit the spot for lunch.

I had not done the Grant Swamp section.I just waved my hand when it was mentioned saying it was close to the finish I would get through it. But as I made my way to the pass, I kept looking and looking at it trying to figure out where we were going over and how scared I should be. When it was pointed out to me, everyone was always pointing to this section that had multi tiers of waterfalls and I thought, what the hell? Are we going to have to climb up the waterfall?

After the last 82 miles, it was possible.

Chris and I covered ourselves with sunscreen and bug spray and took off. Despite the fear that I was becoming familiar with, the hike around to Grant Swamp was beautiful. Not terribly uphill and we ran into a nice family. They had a toddler and an infant in a carrier. This soothed me tremendously because if someone had taken their kids up here, than it couldn't be that bad, right?
Wrong. I finally pointed out where I thought we were going to Chris and he corrected me to a place around the corner from the waterfalls. It wasn't much better. We got there as an approaching storm was coming in.

As we waited first in line to head up what can only be described as loose scree on a conveyor belt. We watched the people about halfway up make it to the top. Lightning and thunder banged around us and I just stared up trying to figure out how the hell we were going to get up there. There was a couple that had done this section many, many times so we asked if they would lead. They kindly did.

Olga and Larry were behind us and the three pairs of us started up. I was trying to stay close to Chris but it was hard because each step seemed to let loose a stream of scree that rained down on the person below you. I worried that I would send a big rock down so we spaced out safely. There were some faint switchbacks on the climb but it didn't really help much. It was one step up and two steps down. I knew I wasn't exaggerating my fears when I called for Chris to help me and he answered back with fear in his voice. It made me feel better that I wasn't the only one thinking this was a bad idea. Larry behind me was doing great, totally comfortable on this type of stuff and that was also comforting. Olga just had her head down and was getting it done.

I finally scrambled up to the top and caught my breath. Chris and I hugged like we were final survivors of a Friday the 13th movie. I was very relieved and happy to be done. We waited for Olga and Larry to finish up and we headed down to KT aid station. I had been shown the Kamm Traverse which was a trail that Ulli Kamm discovered from looking at old mining maps and linked the areas. I was looking forward to this trail because it looked like a beautiful slight downhill to the aid station. It went on forever and we relished it as the sun was going down.

KT (89.0 miles) 2920 up, 2450 down (covered)
We reached the aid station and I wanted to be in and out because I smelled the barn and knew the next section like the back of my hand even though I had done it only once. We ate some noodles and broth and grabbed more gels and took off. I told Chris that he couldn't avoid getting his feet wet in the beginningand in spite of his frostbitten feet, he still wanted to do this section. We went down the road about a 1/4 mile and then took a left turn to the trail. We had to cross a creek and then hack our way through some willows in shin deep cold water. I hoped Chris's feet would be okay for the rest of the section but really I was focused on finishing, only 10 miles to go.

I told him that there was three big climbs in this section but couldn't remember what the second one was like. It was starting to get dark and you always want to get as far as you can before total darkness fell. We caught up to Rickie Redlands and she was having some stomach problems so I shared my ginger with her telling her to just stick it on the side of her mouth if she couldn't keep it down. She is incredibly tough so I knew we would see her again as I was having to take rest breaks a lot. We went back and forth for a while on the first climb but then I didn't see her and her husband again.

The first climb was over and we had a nice section of trail before the second climb. I realized that I shut out the second climb because it was a bitch. We made it up and we were getting above treeline (for the 13th time in the race). I wish it was light out because the scenery was so beautiful but I just tried to describe it to Chris instead. We were entrenched in darkness now and I was looking forward to the climb up to Catarach Ridge because I knew it was the last climb. We looked up to see the moon shining down on us.

The wind was starting to pick up and we looked around wondering what the weather was really like. Seeing the moon was deceptive because we were actually in the midst of colliding storms. The wind started to howl and we knew we were probably going to get rained on. We had made it to the top of the ridge and we knew that there was about 10other runners within about 3-4 miles. The first lightning strike was close and it was the strike that hit my friend, Bob.

He was without a pacer and not close to other runners. He knows the strike knocked him off his feet and he probably went unconscious. When he got up, his left side was numb but he kept moving because the storm was still all around us. Rain turned to hail and the temperature dropped about 20 degrees in a matter of minutes. Chris and I were running for our lives with the lightning and thunder hitting at the same time all around us.

The runner behind us was announcing how far away it was, 1 mile, 1/2 miles, 1/3 of a mile. I think I finally told him to shut up. We were headed downhill but were still above treeline so we were the tallest thing out there. I worried about all the people behind us that were still on the ridgeline. Larry told me later that lightning hit close to them and struck a metal marker bending the metal into a tootsie roll. Throughout it all, I wasn't scared. I knew I should be but it was almost perversely exciting to me. I have never been afraid of lightning even though I should be. We knew that the aid station was close and finally we saw the light. It was a great beacon of comfort in the cold, rainy dark night.

Putnam (94.6 miles) 2425 up, 1455 down (covered)
Our friends, Marcy and John. were working the aid station and they were ready for us. Before we knew it, warm drinks were in our hands and they did everything they could to help us. The hail was slowing down and it was turning back to rain. It was still incredibly cold and I had my raincoat zipped to the top with the hood on but I wasn't generating any body heat. We had to keep moving. We had 5.9 miles to go. I wanted to finish and knew there was nothing that could keep me from doing that. I also knew that the next section was a tough downhill with huge rocks jutting out from any angle. Not exactly the best footing at 1:30am.

I had also taken a spill on this trail on this section during our training run and wanted to get past that bad ju-ju section. We made our way down slowly and I was starting to feel jubilant. I saw the race before my eyes being replayed and it was wonderful, even the scary parts. I was proud of myself for working through those sections, with the help of my friends and fellow runners. It's a wonderful place to be, 5 miles from the finish of a 100 miler knowing you are almost done.

I was waiting for the rocks to change to soft dirt and at that point, I knew we were close to Mineral Creek and the rope crossing. That rope crossing symbolized the finish to me even though there were two more miles to go. I reached the rope and made it across and we hit the road. We ran into another runner who was unsure of where the trail was. We showed him the way and our place behind them was set. I wanted to run it in only because I was dying to get off my feet but the guy in front of us was walking, so we walked.

Even though I was anxious to finish, I relished the last two miles. I couldn't wait to kiss the rock and get a hug from Dale Garland. I waved to the Shrine to the Miners up on the hill as we got into Silverton. Chris peeled off when we hit street and I ran through Silverton in the middle of night knowing that people were warm in their beds and I would soon be too. I took the last turn at the high school and saw the flags of all the states and countries represented this year. I heard a few people cheer, it was the middle of the night. I reached the rock and kissed it.

I hugged Dale and he put the medal on. It was anti-climatic but not in the least bit disappointing. I had done this for the journey and the destination was just frosting. It was great to finish but I loved how I got there. I walked into the bright gym and got a hug from Larry Hall. Beth almost made me cry when she said how proud of me she was. All these people that I respected were proud of me and that was so rewarding. Andrea made me a hamburger with a fried egg on top and I shared it with Chris. I went outside to watch Bob finish and he shared his story of lightning on the mountain with all of us. I got to see Olga finish too, she arrived right after Bob. Chris's feet were not doing well so he took an oxycotin and fell asleep in the gym. He had to leave in a few hours and needed some sleep. I slept in the back of my truck and he woke up and slept in his car for a few hours.

We woke up to news of other finishers (including Leonard). We headed into the breakfast awards and they fed us bacon and sausage and some other food I can't remember. The awards party was fun and that was mostly because of Dale Garland. He is equal parts funny and sweet and you can't help but love him as our great leader.

There was a meaningful dedication to Kirk Apt for his 15th finish of Hardrock. Upon first meeting, Kirk comes across as a sweet, generous and kind human. He is the Dalai Lama of Hardrock and I was able to thank him for the advice from him that had been handed down to me. I got my picture from Dale and enjoyed hearing the stories of other runners. Dale told us that an eagle had flown over Grouse Gulch aid station wih a still alive fawn in its talens. I learned that eagles sometime drop their prey to kill it and this eagle dropped the fawn near the aid station and it pretty much exploded everywhere. While the story was incredibly sad, it reminded us of the unflinchingness of the race and surrounding area.

It was great that people like John DeWalt, 73 year old finisher get the same standing ovation as the winners. I was so happy to see that Leonard finished after 5 tries. His smile was huge. The biggest news of the race was the amazing performance of Diana Finkel, who shattered the record and was third overall. It was a great representation of what women can do. I looked around, saw all my new friends and got to share in their successes.

Even people that didn't finish still had a sense of accomplishment in being out there and fighting. I talked to Clem and his wife and was so happy to see him doing well. It was all incredibly touching and wiped tears away more than once. My sister and her family met me after the awards. Chris had to leave and I worried about him driving home after staying up for two days. I knew his feet were bad but we said our goodbyes. We grabbed a bite to eat, Mother Cluckers, surprised? I ate and it tasted just okay, not yet having my appetite back.

My sister wanted to head back and I was along for the ride. My brother in law drove my car back and I rode with my sister and her kids, who I love. I spent the next few days at my sister's in Denver recovering. My biggest ailment were mud irritations on the inside of each calf that was incredibly painful. The mud makes litle cuts in your legs over and over as your feet hit your calf and rub together. But it was gone within a week. My legs were sore but nothing too bad. I took two weeks off from running but did walk a lot.

The overwhelming feeling I have when I think of Hardrock is life changing. I was able to leave my worries and responsibilities behind for days and just live life for the trail. I met so many amazing people, each with their own story of successes and struggles. And that week, there was plenty of time to sit down and hear those stories and share your own. It's too busy of a world these days and Hardrock lets you slow down. The race is run so seemlessly and with true joy, it is shared by everyone involved. During the awards, great attention was spent recognizing the great work of the volunteers. As a runner, it was grea to be able to recognize the altruistic deeds of these people. Of I forgot, my time was 45:18 and that was way off my goal time but I wasn't disappointed in the least. I finished the race and that was my ultimate goal.

Hardrock 100

2009-02-02T08:24:00.005-07:00

Oh crap, they picked me.

I am psyched to have new focus and something to motivate me behides ass fat. My motivation to run has been low in the last 6 months, nursing nagging injuries and making excuses to not get out. But not anymore, I have 5 months to get in shape for the big climbs, 2 1/2 of those months I will be working ungodly hours so will find time where I can.

Congrats to others picked and still others high on the waiting list. I am bummed that some didn't get in because I would have loved to see them out there. Got to redo my race schedule too to incorporate some good climbing.

Now, whose run this damn thing that can give me some advice? Anything will help!

Behind the Scenes

2008-09-09T15:27:00.003-06:00

He blew away the competition. More to come....

Speedgoat 50k

2008-07-28T13:49:00.022-06:00

Amazing photos are here.
Results and maps are here.

So after my dnf at Devils Backbone a couple weeks ago, my next race was Speedgoat 50k at Snowbird up Little Cottonwood Canyon in Salt Lake. My friend, Cole, who I am pacing and crewing at Wasatch was out for a week before Speedgoat for some training. He lives in Ohio (que the tears) so there was some work to be done (or so I thought). He came out Sunday before last and by Thursday, he had logged 70 some miles and 20,000 feet of climbing and systematically kicked my ass. Here are some pictures of our fun:

We took Friday off as a rest day and travelled to Salt Lake after a late start out of Jackson complete with breakfast burritos and ice cream shakes. The ride was uneventful but hot seeing I have never owned a vehicle with air conditioning. We checked into the Lodge or the Inn I forget but it was nice, right at the start with a pool. My only goal for the day was the pool and that got done around 7 that nite. We ate dinner with our friend, Eric Johnson from Logan who was racing too and went to bed.

Not too early of a start 6:30 and we just had to check in and get our bags. Sweet goat shirts, mine's black and looks incredibly menancing. I can't wait to wear it on an overcast day. I think with the sun hitting that thing could kill me within minutes but cloudy, I'm busting it out.

The actual course or vertical weren't really decided on until the last minute and you know I like it like that. Keeps it interesting. I decided not to study the map even though my friend Todd had printed us out a nice big color coded map. I just daydreamed when they were going over it because one look at that thing and I knew it wouldn't help me much, more confusing. I heard words like "intestinal loops" so I knew I was relying on the flagging job of fellow runners who were volunteering.

We figure out drop bag, one for both of us. I put in extra gels, trying to roctane (and loving them), extra socks, shirt and my inhaler. In light of my recent hamburger feet, Cole kindly suggested I try another pair of socks and as a true gear whore (I mean horder), he had an extra pair. So I wore his Wright socks underneath my smartwool and low and behold, not that many blisters at all.

We headed to the start and were off in no time. I should explain where I was in the morning, let's just say I was dragging ass. Too many great days and nites of running followed by palty 5-6 hours of sleep were catching up to me. I had my black period pretty much right off the bat. I woke up in a mood funk (not funky) and in a lot of pain. I had worked on my achilles and calves (constant annoyance) in the car on the way to SLC and proceeded to fire those things badly. You know when you are saying things like "come on, baby, you can do this" in the first 15 minutes, it's not good. I tried to get Cole to go on as he was strong and felt good but wouldn't. We were way back and Cole said he got worried when he looked back and our only competition was the guy picking up the flags, oh god.

But as we all know, these periods do not last forever. Mine usually last exactly one hour, so at 7:30, the monkey slid off my back and I climbed. And oh how we climbed... 4000 feet in the first 8 miles but it's Karl Meltzer race so there were little downhills in the middle of the climbs and towards the end of the race, you didn't want to do the downhills because you knew what came after the downhills. Got to the first aid station at 4 miles, peed, watered and had a little downhill feeling better. We climbed up to 11,000 at the top of the tram and hit the aid station and drop bag there. Saw some folks I know, Becky and Jarrod and said hi. Filled up, grabbed some chips and a peanut butter/jelly sandwich and knew there was some downhill coming.

Downhill wouldn't really describe what was next (see above topo), more like a glissade but with rock and dirt. Dumbass (me) still had the sandwich and chips in my hand and thought I was foot-worthy enough to tackle this without hands. And you are not going to take food out of my hands, but I wised up and shoved everything into my mouth and attached my handheld to my pack and went for it. The first pitch wasn't too bad but the next one was something you wanted to give your full attention to. There was Black Diamond kids patroling the area and they were all wearing helmets. There was a section that was roped and me, having no pride at all, clunged to that rope like my mother would. We pretty much laughed throughout the day about the absurity of the course and how great it was to be doing it. We were then treated to a ridge run that reminded me of the Devils Backbone and totally runnable for at least 15 feet at a time before some climb brought you back to a walk.

After that was a plunge down into Mineral Basin, pretty much 4000 feet down in about 4 miles to that tall drink of water, Roch Horton's aid station. Now, I don't know Roch personally but we both agreed when we grow up, we want to be Roch. First, the name, it's got it all and says it all. And he's supernice, knows what you want and need and always has kind words. I got a popsicle, ice and water for my bandana and they had cold wet towels. This was a runners aid station and it had it all. Finally Cole pulls me out of my swoon and we head up.

Next up was a 2000 foot climb and it was here that we started to make some progress with steady, strong climbing. We passed about 11 guys on this climb, some just looking hot and tired from the big descent (that we had taken fairly easy) and some looking not so great. I commented to Cole that the reason we were making such great progress is that we were working as a team but he totally poo-poo'ed that idea, whatever. We get to the top of the climb thankfully and were still doing okay. We were good to remind each other to eat, drink and take S caps regularly.

We were climbing up something (the climbs gets muddled after a while and I might have things out of order) and we saw Eric up ahead. He was with my friend Todd from here so it was good to see familiar faces. We climbed together for a while and it was a beautiful section with flowers and beautiful views from up high. Sometimes, we would leave a full functioning and lovely singletrack to take a hard left or right on what can only be described as an old abandoned goat path, possibly some stamped down grass but that was about it. We passed some volunteers and the woman said I was running in the top 10 for woman which was surprising in light of my demise at the start but it was just what Cole needed to hear and he said he would keep me there. My goal was just not to dnf.

We then got into the tunnel which was dark and pretty cool. It felt great to be out of the unrelenting sun for a minute or two. From the tunnel, we went down a good ways on a service road and it was a little confusing. I thought we might be off course because there was some construction flagging and it was hard to differentiate between that and the race flagging. And I didn't want to go down if I was wrong and have to head back up. But we found our way and I ran into a woman I ran with at Devils Backbone two years ago. We passed her but I knew what an efficient runner she was and that she would be back.

We had another great climb through some shaded switchbacks on narrow singletrack and then came the (I swear everyone called it this) demoralizing ridge climb. It lasted forever, was unrelentless, hot, steeper than hell, actually it felt like hell would feel and it made me yell at Cole (sorry buddy). He was saying something nice and he stopped and there was no stopping on that hill (besides the "let's just make it to that bush" stops). So he stops to say something and I lose it, "don't stop keep going", there might have been more words than that. I was in survival mode and there aren't that many niceties there. I told him I would apologize later but I could only just make it up that damn ridge first. I have discovered that I am not a multi tasker and being nice and climbing that ridge were mutually exclusive.

So we climbed up to the top of Hidden Peak again and there were two people standing at the top. They were smiling so I knew they were not doing the race. I thought, great, we will hit the aid station, my drop bag and head down to the finish because I thought I had the mileage in my head that there was about 4+ miles.

Imagine my surprise (in my jaunty mood to boot) when the smiling volunteers pointed us not to the aid station but down some more and then back up before we get to the aid station. I asked the dreaded question, how much further? The guy said once we got back to the top (again), it was about 5 miles and he said this all while smiling. I think he had the toughest job of the day because people really broke down on that ridge. So I was about 3 grueling miles off. Demoralized and abused but asking for it, we pressed on. We were still on the homestretch (even if it did involve some wretched climbs), we ran the downhills and there was some great scenery and were able to put some snow in our hats, bandanas and bottles so that cheered me up.

I was definitely looking forward to the downhill because my quads felt really solid and the downhill didn't hurt my ankles. Finally, we get to the top, re-supply, have some coke and food and head off for the downhill to the finish. I swear we were flying downhill and I was barely keeping Cole in sight. It was heating up and you feel it as you descend especially a 1000 feet a mile. We passed a few people on the way down and in all, probably passed about 40 people all day and were only passed twice or three times. Helps to start in way back for that to happen.

So we run and run downhill and start to see signs of civilization. I see the big white tent and look across the canyon to see how low we are. I know we are close and it is heaven to come around the corner and see the finish line. We finish together and come in at 8:47. I was shooting for sub 10 so I am thrilled. I was the 8th woman and third in my age group (when you throw out the top 5 women overall). Those Utah girls are fast and tough and the top woman, Anita Ortiz, is from Colorado and was third overall. There were some amazing runs done by those top people, running the stuff I couldn't even imagine powerwalking.

So we hang out for a while, drink some recovery stuff and then head to the creek. I enjoy a good soak and clean off pretty well in the creek but we head to the pool for some real relaxing. We ask someone in the parking lot for the temperature from their car, 102, that's why it felt so hot. We head to the awards ceremony and I get a cool goat picture and pick up a pair of Native sunglasses. Todd was also third in his age group so I pick up his picture and we meet for dinner with him and my friend Marty. Beef is consumed in large quantities and throughly enjoyed.

Sleep comes quickly that night and the next morning is another early one. I take Cole to the airport and then head home. I pick up tubby dumbo at the kennel and spend a good portion of the day on the couch. My legs feel pretty good, tired but not injured. In the meantime, a little time on the bike and I think an open water lake swim might be in my future. I feel my appetite raging so I see some 5 meals days coming up too.

So if you like the idea of a hot poker to you know where, definitely sign up for Speedgoat. It's a masochist's course put on by a couple of sadists (and we all know who we are). But, I think the confidence and strength you get from finishing a race like this goes far to other races. So I think Cole is ready for Wasatch and I have El Vacquero Loco up next in Afton in three weeks (so excited because I thought it was just two weeks but three is great). Check out the website for more info, it's another great one with lots of climb and great views. Website is here.

Devils Backbone

2008-07-14T17:31:00.029-06:00

Jackson is a hard place to beat for good living. I can't think of one other place I would rather live than Jackson, except Bozeman. Bozeman offers a bit more city life without taking the small town feel away. Throw in a sweet new library and a college and it runs a close second to Jackson.

I look forward to heading to Bozeman each summer to see old friends and hit their trails. Tom and Liz Hayes-McGoff are the race directors for two great races up there, Old Gabes 50k, an asskicker with 12,000 feet of climbing that I missed due to BH and Devils Backbone, a 50 miler of such shear beauty (and asskicking) you almost...almost (but not quite) ask for more.
I had some company coming to join me in Bozeman this weekend. My friend Roman from Houston was flying in to visit and run the race. Yes, I have flatlander friends. Roman lived out here and we worked together for a short time many years ago. We were the Spartan Cheerleaders for Halloween and I say this without a doubt; Roman has the best herkie and split jump I have seen. The vert he gets almost baffles the mind and coupled with the fact that he's about 6'2", 220 linebacker type, it's amazing. That's why he's my friend. That and we can talk about anything which we did most of the weekend.

So he flies in, we have too many beers at the brew pub on the way home and I drive to Bozeman with a big fat OB-1 headache the next morning. The drive was beautiful, through Yellowstone and the Gallatin Canyon. We get there in time to check into a hotel (high style for ultrarunning) and take some funny pictures of a big bush before heading to Tom and Liz's house for pre-race dinner and meeting.
The course hadn't really been decided on before the dinner. There was a lot of snow up high and getting to the first peak, Hyalite was iffy. Iffy became impossible when it took Tom, multiple Hardrock finisher 10 hours to do 25 miles, which was past the cutoff time. So it was decided we would start from the other way, up Portal Creek to Windy Pass and do 12.5 out and back, 10 mile loop in the opposite direction and then 7.5 on the first out and back. Tom claims this was going to be easier than the original course - yeah, right. Ate tons of food, a little hair of the dog and won a container of Mild Melon Heed. I was hoping this flavor was going to be better than the current flavor I have which can only be described as belly button lint, rolled in fish guts set in the sun then sprinkled with orange cream powder. Let you know how it is.

So we have to get up pretty darn early to get to the start line by 6, like middle of the nite early as the start was about 1 1/2 hour away. Roman, still on Central time, had us up at 2:50 instead of 3:50 so we laid there not sleeping until the real alarm went off. We got there with about 15 minutes to spare. There was some confusion at the road forks and somehow I was making navigational decisions which is a really bad idea. My confidence highly overshadows my complete inability to tell direction but we all got there.

The Devils Backbone touts itself as unmarked, unaided, and unequaled. If you know me, you know these are my races. It leaves the whiners, sissies and people that regularly shower at home. It's not that I like getting lost or running out of food and water but I know it's probably going to happen to me on any course, so I might as well sign up for a race that promotes right there in the brochure. People who stress over the hand drawn maps or no maps at all, ask the millionth question and then look around worried trying to find that person they are going to attach themselves to, those people don't have fun at these kind of races. I avoid eye contact with those people. I like the people that listen, shrug their shoulders and go back to their lasagna.

I did run with an interesting person who rocked old school. This guy was a lawyer by trade but was building a house in Livingston. He showed up to prerace meeting in Wranglers and cowboy boots (beat up, not new). His hydration and nutrition for the race went something like this. A Pure Simple Organic Limeade bottle (gallon) filled with I think limeade (really wanted some) and a small baggie with what looked like a sandwich in it. He was doing the longest distance he'd ever done (25 miles) and finished really well.

I got to see my friend Herbert, who pulled my sorry ass from Crybaby Land at the Big Horn with his sage words and understanding. And my friend Fran, who did GT100 with me and never fails to amaze me with her laid back attitude or sunscreen application. For those of you who don't know, zinc oxide is not dead and I wish I had some on that day. And her dog, Bok Choy had a great time on the trail and ran about 125 miles.

I knew it would be a long day but was surprised by how much the elevation and constant exposure to the sun drained me and quickly. I started out with my normal speed, snails pace, and then slowed a little bit from there. Our first 2 miles climbed about 1300 feet, then there was a bit more climbing before getting out on the ridge. Once out there, you could see for miles to other runners out ahead on the trail so you had a good idea of where to head and really, even I can't get lost on a ridgeline. There was a lot of snow on the course and that took a toll on everyone especially as the day wore on and the snow softened.

I reached the turnaround (12.5 miles) in 3 1/2 hours and was able to hook up with my great friend, Kim Taft for a little while. Her good cheer and constant smile brightened me up and I am lovin the hair. She was doing the relay with her husband and they had a true exchange in the form of their 17 month old son, Theo. Devils Backbone allows the relay people to start whenever so technically this year relay partners could run together. In years past, you and your relay partner started at different ends and met somewhere in the middle.
On the way back from 12.5 out, I was feeling pretty good although a little tired. I ran into Roman who was cold (Texan) and said he was thinking of doing 35, then driving back to town for some more clothes. I told him he would probably warm up as the sun got higher and hoped that I wouldn't be left. I ran back mostly alone but had far away company in sandwich/limeade guy. I had to backclimb a small cliff band where I had lost the trail and gone too high, you get your money's worth at the Devils Backbone.

Hit the 25 mile mark and felt fairly close to shit - tired, snow blind and sunburned but couldn't think of anywhere else I would like to be. I hit the pickles hard, and the pringles harder with some to go. I cleaned the sticks, pine straw and other grass cousins out of my handheld from all the snow I had stuffed in there. Someone filled my bladder and with everything stuffed in it, I looked like I had a papoose back but it worked. However, I headed out without the two things that would indicated I was going to finish this thing, my handheld and my headlamp. Consciously (headlamp) or unconsciously (handheld), I left them both behind. I did manage to clean out the scree field that was my shoes, put on some more sunscreen and get some calories on board. I also asked a few guys around me when they were headed out so I could hook up some company for the 10 mile loop.

One guy took off pretty quickly which wasn't a gear available to me. I ran the flat fairly well all the while trying to digest Tom's verbal directions. I had him give it to me like you would talk to a 3 year old. Don't tell me what I shouldn't do because "don't go left at the tree" sounds like "go left at the tree" when you are out there. So I just had him to tell me what I should do and I took it from there. So the directions went something like this,

Go back a ways, take the trail that heads South (great, I don't know direction but I just nod my head), then look for a weather station and head for it. He said it was only a 700 foot climb but I am thinking that he must have been referring to "the other" weather station out there because this one seemed a lot higher than 700 feet of a climb. You have to touch the weather station (thankfully the weather was clear, no lightning in the area) and then run to the second rocky knoll (rocky knoll?) and at the second rocky knoll there will be some ribbon, turn around and go back to the weather station and touch it again, then run away. There's not much of a trail so head for the station and then when you come back, don't go to the turnaround but head back out on the ridge. You will probably lose the trail but just keep high. Crystal Clear, I love these races.

There was a lot of snow out there, just big mounds of snow to go up and over. My Achilles were hating life but still answering my call. I hooked up with a guy named Scott, pretty much I just started talking to him until he put his ipod away. Cool guy from Helena doing his first 50 miler, he was a biologist who geeked out on maps, so jealous. The good thing about that big hill was there was the most beautiful rocks and I loved that a lot of the girls picked some up. I didn't see any boys saying "look at this pretty rock" but the girls all stopped to show off our rocks. This is why I like running long distances, more breaks for chatting. Alas, another reason I am not gonna win these things, too busy walking and showing off pretty rocks.

There was a definite glissade down from the weather station. Scott had given me some pointers on good techniques when he first spotted the humongous snow field on the mountain and even went first so I could see if he was going to crash. We watched Herbert pull off some great tele-turns in running shoes. I worried the whole way to the rocky knoll and had my sharp stick ready to self arrest when I started down. All my nervousness was for naught because it was like being on a big slide with snow butt wash chaser, none of which I didn't enjoy. So we get off the weather station mountain and head back to the aid station because our day is done.

On the way back to finish the 10 mile loop (that took 3 1/2 hours) I had pretty much made up my mind that the thought of a good nite's sleep won over finishing in the dark. I was shocked at how easy it was to make that decision and how psyched I was to not have to hit the ridge again. My first DNF was Devils Backbone, never thought it would be but it was okay. I equate it with seeing your long lost love and then leaving immediately to run off for a flight to Tahiti that serves all you can eat bacon, both are pretty good options.

So we ran back to the turnaround just to make sure Tom wasn't there but he had already started to sweep the course and actually shepherded a great guy from Texas, Ali on his first 50 finish, way to go dude. That was a big smile out there all day and he was the big winner of the day. Ali definitely deserves the hoodie. So then we walked down the steep 1.3 to the finish. We debated whether we should run it in but decided seeing we were dropping that we shouldn't. I asked Scott if he would kick me real hard so I had an excuse for dropping but he wouldn't so we strolled in as the winners of the loser 35 mile category. We got tee-shirts instead of hoodies and sat around, compared blisters (I won) and talked to some relayers about their day. Then went and soaked in the creek for a while and Roman and I headed back to the hotel.

We had big plans of going out on the town but ended up eating chicken in our respective beds while watching reality tv, also a good option. Brunch is at Looie downstairs the next day and it was great food and good race stories. We checked the Hardrock results and saw how well everyone had done. Kyle's new record and an amazing job done by my new friend Bushwacker, beautifully paced by Olga.

We drove home after brunch and went through Yellowstone which still takes my breath away with it's beauty in spite of the large crowds of people. Enjoy the photos.

So I am kinda glad that I got my first dnf under my belt. I was wondering when it would happen. I think my mental strength tank was on empty from Bighorn but both were still worth it. I think next year I will do BH100 and then DB relay. Next up is Speedgoat for a little punishment, lots of climbing in not very many miles. Then El Vacquero Loco, that my friend Ty Draney puts on down in Afton, Wyoming. This week should be a good week of running with Cole coming for some elevation training. Lots of trails, lots of friends to run with and finally the Teton summer is here and all 12 days of it will be appreciated.

Recovery has been good, took three days off mostly just being busy but I believe in rest (really just lazy). Wednesday, I ran my favorite run to Phillips divide and reflected on the last time I had been there. I hadn't yet done a 100 and now I have done 2. There was only one other person on the trail I saw that nite, an old friend. He said that he turned around at the snow and told me where it was, seemingly impassable to him. Funny, when I got there, I just went right through it thinking how nice it is to do distances and not let things like snow stop you. I probably would have stopped before but now you just keep going. Things are very good in life and I am grateful for it. Summer is fleeting so get out there and don't take it for granted. Here's a picture of Phillips, enjoy.

Ain't Nothin Wrong with the Bighorn, Part Deux

2008-06-23T12:55:00.014-06:00

All the pictures can be found here.

The french is for the French Ultrarunning team that I leap frogged with all race. And to be honest, I don't think they really liked being passed by a woman, but I busted out my best french and finally figured out how to not have them consider me a dirty american (not that way). But eventually they passed me for good along with a good number of other folks that day, especially on the last 5 miles of dirt road at the end.

I love the Bighorn, it's all Wyoming, all the time. It was my first ultra in 2006 and my favorite wild and scenic trail outside of the Tetons. The race director, Melanie Powers, is not a runner herself but shares the enthusiasm and did a phenomenal job of re-routing our snowy course and getting all of us up to date. Her and her crew, along with Sports Stop Store in Sheriday were amazing.

I took an extra day off and left Jackson Wednesday caravaning with my friends, Kris and Julie, who I had married a couple of weeks ago. Julie was doing her first 100 and Kris, his first 50 miler. We stopped in Cody at Sierra Trading Post, the Wyoming Saks. Coffee at the Beta and then went through beautiful Shell Canyon and up and over Burgess Junction to come down into Dayton.

Of course, we were staying with Lea and Marshall at the Foothills Campground right in Dayton and thankfully, right at the finish line. We set up camp, mine being a new tent someone has graciously given me and chilled. We were next to Dan and Pat Spurlock of Pocatello, who came with their son, Aaron to run. We caught up on things and enjoyed a nice quiet nite at the campground.

Thursday found us packing drop bags and wondering what we would need. The new course with it's extra loops and one out and back afforded us the chance to see Footbridge and Dry Fork Aid stations three times each so we only had to pack two bags. And the size of the bag was not brought up by race officials.

We checked in at the Sports Stop in Sheridan and met Kris's dad and stepmom for a meal. Being the health conscious runners we are, I opted for the chicken finger platter, Kris got about 2 lbs of nachos and Julie went with the hamburger. Got back to the campground and it had about tripled in size thanks to a troop of boy scouts from Colorado. Imagine the scene - 20 or so 13 year old kids and their dads (seemingly enjoying the trip more), no less than 7 vehicles all pulling trailers, canoes and other assorted crap. We stood there agape while Lea promised us that she threatened them with death if they were loud. And they were so quiet, helped by the delouge of rain and hail for the second nite. The worry was that the next night, if the skies decided to hail again, we would be in it, possibly on a ridgeline.

This being Julie's first 100, we had discussed reasons for a dnf. Last year, I read the running manual for the Cascade Crest and it made me want to run the race, just from the manual. But one thing struck me in my reading. It was a section for first time runners written by a woman named Melissa Berman, a 5 time CCC finisher and she writes

"Figure out ahead of time what would have to happen to make you quit and do not quit unless that thing happens. For some people it might be that they are not making some time/distance goal. For me it is I will keep going unless I injure something so badly that I am physically unable to proceed. And I finished with some very nasty blisters and I have spent 1.5 hours at an aid station (Kachess Lake) where my crew thought I was a goner, but I came back from the dead and finished. To finish CCC (and maybe any other 100 or any ultra for that matter) one must be determined to finish because inevitably something will happen out there and you will have to get past it or give up."

I don't know this woman but I think she pretty much hits it on the head. So with that quote, which I had taped to my drop bag on my first 100, we came up with a suitable list of things that be the reasons for Julie to drop. Please note that while Julie was allowed to negotiate some of these, the panel gave her no slack. Here they are:
1. Big Horn has rattlesnakes in the canyon, so Julie could drop if she was bitten by a rattlers BUT ONLY if she presented the rattler still attached to her jugular.
2. Lightning - In light of the recent weather, Julie could stop if she took a direct hit BUT ONLY if smoke was coming out of the bottom of her feet.
3. Hail - couldn't be ignore and Julie could stop BUT ONLY if she took a direct hit from a baseball size hail or larger and she had to present the hail. When the hail was Whopper candy size the nite before the race, we made her go out and see how it felt just have to gauge, she said it hurt.
3. Animal Attacks - Moose attack BUT ONLY if she presented a large hoof print on her cheek. Bear - no grizzlies at the Bighorn, so keep going.
4. Loss of Limb - BUT ONLY a leg and it had to be above the knee. From the elbow down, she had to continue even if it meant holding the severed appendage (with the handheld still attached) as she ran.

A lot of people were involved with that list (read it wasn't only me) and while some people might think it inappropriate, it cut the mood.

The race started at 11am Friday so we didn't have to get to bed too early and had plenty of time in the morning. The prerace meeting was standard, door prizes, excellent outfits and familiar faces. We didn't have to get dressed too early seeing we were right there and just had to make it to the starting line 2 miles up the canyon by 11, easy. The one good thing about a late start is I was able to get in about 1000 calories that morning, which is fairly easy for a piggy like me.

Kris drove us up to the start with another friend Katherine Dowson doing her first 100 (finished 2nd woman). I found a nice size leak in my Nathan bladder and Kris did some quick duct tape work on it before the start. Saw my friend Aaron from GT100 and caught up a little bit. We missed the prerace prayer that my friends wanted me to lead seeing as I was recently ordained but enjoyed the national anthem. Then we lined up in the back and started the race.

Julie and I were with some other ladies and we chatted and figured out where we knew each other from. Saw Olga from Oregon for the first and last time as she busted out a 3rd place finish. The first part of the race is a big climb up the canyon and it can be hot. I was lucky enough to run into Wendell, who I believe is the creator of the Bighron and he shared some great history on the area. It passed the time on the climb nicely. It's hard to imagine when you first start a 100 that you will be back in this very place in somewhere between 20-34 hours, definitely a different person. What person you are coming back as is the real mystery.

We climbed about 8.25 miles to the first aid station, Upper Sheep Creek. Julie felt slow but was doing well and the sun was in and out of the clouds. And we had just missed seeing a bear with her cubs by minutes I guess. Only a black bear, so no out for Julie. Our next section was beautiful from Freeze Out Point to Dryfork, one of our first main aid stations. Kris and his parents were there and crewed us beautifully. We hooked up some good energy named Debbie from Virginia. We hoped she would stay with us but she had a pacer coming in sometime. I don't do pacers; prefer to make my way with fellow runners. I will pace others, but have never had one myself.

We felt pretty well at Dryfork which is at mile 15.3 and headed out for a loop up Riley's Ridge via which was one of the course changes and something that usually only the 50k people do. But before we headed up Riley's we visited my favorite aid station, Cow Camp for some bacon. Anyone who knows me, knows my obsession with bacon. If you saw someone with a grey skirt and pink shirt with bacon shooting out of the front pockets of a Nathan pack, that was me. And it was high quality bacon, not that thin crap that falls apart, this was Wyoming bacon. I was a strict vegetarian for 14 years and when I drop off the vegetable truck back to meat, the first and only thing I wanted was bacon. It's still the thing I want everyday. I.love.bacon. and they had bacon for me.

The climb up Rileys is good climb - 2000 feet in about 3 miles and then goes along the ridgeline until it drops again into Dryfork. First time up was great, I love these climbs and was doing well with my eating and drinking. Julie caught up on the ridgeline and I was glad to see her. She's the descender and I am a climber so we usually meet in the middle. Down to Dryfork again and no crew this time, Kris was signing in for 50 miler the next day. We grabbed lights, dinner and weighed in for the first time. I had dropped 4 lbs and needed to drink more. Then we headed out for some nite running. With the later start than usual races, we had to put our headlamps at mile 29.6.

We headed back to Cow Camp (more bacon) and then headed to the remote Bear Camp where supplies come in on horseback. From Bear Camp, we headed into the Little Bighorn Canyon which is beautiful during the day but we would miss it in the nite. It was around 9:30 and at that difficult dusk time. I had avoided candy and cookies all day as well as caffeine until the nite, but two hard falls on slippery rocks and logs around that time that wrenched my back and hips reminded me that I should get something in me that would sharpen my focus. I took some just in time for the big descent down the Haul (or the Wall, I get them confused). I followed an agile runner down this section and made it quicker than I thought.

It was dark by the time we reached our second big aid station, Footbridge. The river was raging and sounded angry in the dark. When I think back to this section, I realized it was where things went a little south and probably the part of the race I would choose to forget. My feet were wet and had been most of the day. I could feel hot spots that aspired to be blisters and there were a lot of people going up and down the mountain because it was the turnaround. Before climbing, we had to do this out and back on a rugged jeep road and I felt like I was going to get mugged here, just creepy. After that 3 mile out and back we changed shoes and headed up to the turnaround.

I was a little confused at this point *surprise* and thought it was only 4 miles to the turnaround. I saw these really fast people coming down and I thought, wow, we are in good shape. But then realized it was 4 miles to the next aid station and then another 4 miles (which really turned out to be a demoralizing 5.3 miles) to the turnaround. I saw Katherine on the way up coming down and running with Bushwhacker, she looked good. Saw Aaron looking stellar and Tom H. from Bozeman. Good to see friends and share a few words of encouragement.

At this point, I was with Linda from California who achieved mini-fame in our mind when we found out she could pee standing up and another couple of folks that came in and out of the pack. We got to the Narrows aid station and they were fun, fueled by a good story from me that I had promised I would tell Julie at 3:00am (good motivator). Then we did the climb up to Leaky Mountain and the turnaround. And believe you me, that f-ing mountain leaked, all over my shoes and the blisters started to form. It was a slog up, during the nite probably when you want to do slogs but so tough. Made up to the turnaround, had some soup, espresso gel and headed down with my sore feet. Ran partways down and again found the difference between me and people who finish 10 hours before me, a lot of walking.

Made it back to Footbridge and past the halfway point mile 63.9 and another medical check. Due to my bacon afflication, I was now up 3 lbs over my official weight, nothing like gaining weight during an ultra. It's always nice to be past the halfway point and on the slide down but really, you feel like shit and can't imagine how you are going to get home. Thoughts aside, it was time to climb back out of Dry Fork Drainage back to Bear Camp. Up to this point, Julie had encouraged me to go and I had refused but suddenly thought of a good goal that she would appreciate so I took off. The sun was up and I passed a good many people on the climb.

The 50 milers started to bomb down as I was finishing the climb and I took a bit of energy from each of them. Matt Hart came down first, then two guys I didn't know, then Damian Stoy, then friends Eric Taft, Kris Quandt and some others. They all smelled shower fresh and looked really clean. They gave me energy to keep going to Bear Camp where I was still leapfrogging with the Frenchies. I passed them and continued back to Cow Camp and my last brush with bacon. I also took a look at my feet which I tried to fix at Footbridge but they were not looking good. Big blisters on both forefoots and spreading. A nice ER doctor or nurse try to deal with them with derma something and some mole skin but the skin is so saturated, it didn't stick. So I loaded up and headed for the big climb up Rileys for the last time. It was heating up but other than my feet, I felt pretty good.

I saw Laurie Andrews on the ridgeline as I was headed up. I threw on the ipod for the climb for motivation. I only use an ipod when there is no one around to talk to and this was a good situation for it. I got to Laurie and her pacer and found her really sick. Intense cramping, nausea and lack of food and water since the nite had taken it's toll on her. I unloaded my pack and gave them ginger, gel and my rain poncho for a sunshade and took their handheld to call back to their crew from the top. I pushed on and hiked with a relaxing man named Gort who helped me with the instructions I was given for what to tell the people on the other end of the handheld. I don't really get sleepy during ultras, just really ditsy. Finally got someone on the two way and figured that all out and made it to the top.

From there, my recollection of the trail and the actual trail were vastly different. I felt like I walked forever on that ridgeline waiting for the downhill to take me back to Dry Fork. It was approximately mile 79 at the top and my feet were in bad shape. At this point, I thought I would be off the ridge by 25 hours, but 26 hours creeped up and past and I didn't get down until 26:30. I had some 30 minute miles on that ridgeline and I knew if my feet got worse, I could miss the cutoff or worse yet, get pulled at the finish. One of the big blisters popped on the descent and I was kicking the other one trying to get it to go but I wasn't sure what the best thing to do.

Finally got back down to Dry Fork and Kris's parents were a soothing presence. At the aid station, I had an old lady shake (generic ensure, no fiber) and then saw the beer. I had half a cup of beer along with the old lady shake and the combo made me throw up a little bit in my mouth. I was hurrying worried about the 34 hours cutoff. My feet were hamburger and I decided we weren't looking at them anymore. 18 miles to the finish, that was what was ahead of me on feet that really didn't want to work anymore. My heels had been in acute pain for at least 50 miles but it was the blisters that almost brought me to my knees. I thought of Julie behind with her blisters and kept going. Also, the frenchies were ahead of me as they had passed me on the ridgeline during my crybaby period.

This is where you realize that a 100 is at least three times as hard as a 50. I used every distraction trick I could think of, I thought of my family and friends and their love, I thought of the good energy of Sweatpants and Steve and my friend Cole, I sang and there was some more crying. And then I ran into a guy from Bozeman I remembered named Herbert. I met him at Targhee couple of years ago when he was running the 100 and me the 50. He said three things to me and I repeated those three things for at least 10 miles like a mantra:

I know you are hurting
The hard part is over
Now enjoy it.

I think acknowledging my pain was the greatest thing he could have done for me. It freed the brain lock that was only focusing on the pain and discomfort in every step. And while it didn't take it away, it helped. The frenchies passed me for the last time on a climb and this is where we made our euro/us connection and all I had to do was defer to them which is fine when your feeling kinda crappy and defeated. We discussed Mount Blanc (dream race), "very difficult" they kept saying and I asked them if they liked this course and they just shrugged (euro for not really). Then they went on. About 8 miles from the end, I ran into a guy that had some ankle issues so we limped and bitched to the Tongue River Trailhead. We didn't bother with names, we didn't really care. We shared few words but the company was better than our own minds. I got to the road and knew it was 5 miles to the finish. They sprayed us down, put ice in our bottles and pushed us out. This section sucked, I knew it did, it always does and I was living for the last aid station, which has popsicles, lots of love and sometimes wine. The nice lady there gave me a grape popsicle, some coke and then she filled my handheld with ice and coke.

At this point, I was moving at about 25 minute miles and people were passing me a lot. I couldn't even acknowledge them and that's a rarity for me on the trail. The road went on and on, I kept looking for the bridge signaling the end of the road section. I couldn't walk because that rubbed the blisters more, I couldn't run because that just wasn't an option so I had that bad old lady ultrashuffle that really feels like you are going backwards. I tried to practice a smile but they weren't coming. I wanted the end real bad. Finally, finally I see the nice traffic girls who held traffic for me as I sorely crossed, then short sidewalk to the park and a gravel track. I heard the bagpipes, heard my friend Jenn who did the 50k cheering for me and ran to the finish banner. I will attach pictures that Kris took at the finish because I think it speaks volumes.

I tried to soak in the river but couldn't stand up. Kris and Julie were there and laid me down, took off my shoes and immediately took pictures of my gross feet like any good friend would do. I laid on the riverbank and convulsed for a bit under a blanket. I couldn't really talk or form real sentences for a while. This behaviour worried Julie, who stopped at mile 75 with her blisters but Kris had scene worst carnage than me. I wondered how I was going to get back to my tent because the 200 yard walk seemed impossible. I ate two bites of hamburger and managed to get down some recoverite and shook for a while.

Became human again and talked to Ty Draney who pulled out a phenomenal sub 20 performance for third overall. All my 50 mile friends did so well. Scott Griffith from Afton was 7th in 9:18, Eric Taft was 8th in 9:24 and Kris, in his first 50 was 13th in 9:49, Kim Taft in 10:50 as the 7th woman. And my friend Jenn Staph, who trained so hard for this and cried probably as much as I did on the trail finished proudly in 14:46 and is probably still wearing her finishers shirt. Results are here

I did make it back to the campground aided by my friends. I drank a beer and ate little. Remembered to call my worried parents and sister to let them know I was okay. I didn't sleep well or at all that nite, mostly just twitched. My feet were bad but not as bad as I thought but walking was defintely an issue, the blisters about the size of half a credit card. I peed outside the tent that nite and maybe a little inside too.

We woke and broke down camp and headed into Sheridan for the pancake breakfast, yum. I asked for extra pork products and we sat with the Oregon folks. I went to check the times and heard my name called. I was third in my age group and got this kickass rock with the race info burned in it. My time was no third place time but lucky me, I am still in the 30-39 age group and have one more year before I am throw in with the lions of 40-49. These women are truly mortifying to me. They have absolutely no limit on their threshold for pain. They have had multiple children and probably tied off the umbilical cords with their teeth. terrifying. But I was pysched to have an award, the buckles were sick - skateboarder style with wood and of course, the finishing jers. I have to say the Bighorn is up there for swag, top 5 at least.

So I filled my belly and we headed for some coffee. Ran into Marie and Kevin some folks we had run with during the nite and they had both finished. Kris and Julie were headed for some more camping but I had to get home. I wasn't going to make the kennel hours to pick up Scoobie but I had to work Monday. I got to the top of Burgess Junction and was hit with exhaustion so extreme I almost drove off the road. So I pulled off on a beautiful camping road and took an hour nap with the bird quietly chirping. Felt much better after and drove on. I only got tired again in Yellowstone but was only an hour and a half from home so I toughed it out. I saw a beautiful grizzly male on the side of the road digging for grub, so gorgeous and also got within three feet of a buffalo who wanted to go down the yellow line and more power to him. I love buffalo with their leg warmer fur around their ankles and their enormous heads.

Finally back through the Tetons and I went the inner park road to enjoy the view. It was that perfect time of the evening when the light is right and it feels like both the animals and the humans are settling down for the nite. Got home around 8:30 and dragged everything inside where it still sits. Made some mac and cheese with tuna for dinner and went to bed.

My feet are healing, I walked with my friend today with the dogs and my legs feel great. I iced the stovepipes in the creek twice and that felt good but the swelling up again and I need to put them up. I think recovery will be easier than my last 100 which was almost 4 hours faster because my legs feel relatively fresh. And that's good because I have Devils Backbone in 3 weeks in Bozeman. This race is so amazing, run by Tom and Liz McGoff-Hayes and there are still spots open in the relay of 25 miles each. Here's the website.

Good luck to my friends running Western States this week, not jealous of you at all. Keep cool in the canyons and run the last part (that's just what I hear). Steve, I will be thinking of you hammering it out with Olga, do what she tells you.

Shafer Butte

2008-06-08T20:33:00.012-06:00

My life this second is narrowed to Steve's shoes, they were brand new this morning, Asics - white with red stripes, maybe Gel Eagles, maybe something else, but now are looking dusty and old. I know he will be pleased with that, no one wants their shoes to look new. My hat is pulled down low to block the sun as my sunglasses sit on Steve and Marni's bookcase where I forgot them this morning. Having blindingly white skin, blue eyes and freckles, sunglasses are a necessity but they aren't here so I forget about them. My whole focus is staring at Steve's ankles. And I am close to his ankles because we are all bent over climbing this hill, like ants. I notice he's wearing Smartwool socks, olive green with a hole on the left inside ankle bone and I wonder if that happened in the wash or whether he painfully hits his ankles together sometimes like I do and it wore a hole in it. I guess he could have caught them on something too. I think he shaves his legs too.

We crest a break in the hill, more to come but we all stand straight for a few steps. Ben, possibly the youngest person there this morning proudly claims that we have 48 miles to go having only gone 4. I want to throttle him and it's only 6am. We are on the side loop that we are going to do on the way out only. RD Frank said, "just take trail 4 to lower side of trail 6, it's real easy". Real easy consists of a couple of unmarked turns and this heinous hill. Debbie asks Steve if this is the worst the climbing will be, which I think is a really bad question, especially 4 miles into a race. But he allays my fears by saying yes, besides getting back up Mores Mountain and Shafer Butte, this is the hardest climb. Sweet side trail.

When Steve and I ran into each other at Desert Rats in Fruita in April, he told me about this race, Shafer Butte in Boise. Laid back race put on by an old school ultrarunner, Frank Hanson whose knees were shot but could still put out some pain for others. 52 (give or take) miles, 10,000 feet climbing with minimal aid,no medical help, no course markings, no entry fee, self timed, no published results, no photos, no proof, sounded perfect to me. For a second, I thought doing a 52 miler with that much climbing less than 2 weeks before a 100 that I was minimally trained for could signal trouble. But then I remembered that I don't live and train for any one race, my eggs are spread out in so many baskets, I'm kinda a bunny slut. I'll have a good time this weekend, meet some Boise runners and do a funner run than I would here in Jackson, so I accepted his invitation to stay with him and his family. And Sweatpants would be there too.

Sweatpants is an icon, in my opinion. He ran the entire Bear 100 in grey Hanes sweatpants and held (no handhelds) two gatorade bottles that he probably bought at the Preston gas station on his way over. When he got hot, he pulled one leg (just one) of the sweatpants up. Hand helds and shorts are for ninnies, Sweatpants rocks it old school. He's also a damn good runner, eternally positive with lots of good stories and commentary for the trail. Steve and Sweatpants do a lot of races together. Simpatico in their running style, I felt like I was being let into the inner sanctum of great duos, like the Lenny and Squiggy of the running world.

So I get there Friday in time to drive over with the guys to the pre-race meeting. This meeting mostly consisted of dropping off your goods to the race director, namely beer and water. I like a race where the runners provide the water, make sense to me. Frank said about 10 times how easy the course was to follow but I later learned that the only time Steve had gotten lost during the race was when he was with Frank. I knew that I needed to stay with Steve and Sweatpants tomorrow because I have crappy orienteering skills. There was no prerace crap talk about who had done what, how fast and when. I couldn't tell last years winners from this years newbies, very low on the ego meter, another good sign for a good day. Marni, Steve's wonderful wife, made us a great prerace dinner of spaghetti and meat sauce and we went to bed.

Got up around 3:45am for the 5am start, had coffee, cereal (Apple Jacks, love people who have kids), some power bar and hit it to pick up Sweatpants. We dropped off more water and our drop bags at the start. Frank said that the drop bags to be put at the top of Bogus wouldn't be watched the whole time so if you had a "family heirloom drop bag", this would not be the time to use it. We all had the same white garbage bag and the bags were fairly communal during the day. I pretty much rifled through the bags looking for better snacks than mine.

We started the race and it seemed like a record turnout this year, about 17. I was running with a woman named Debbie that I had spoken to the night before. This was one of her longest races and she was nervous but excited. She didn't know the course and I remembered what Frank had said, to stick with someone who does so I told her I had no idea of where I was going. I had a map and some bad directions but I was pretty sure, if left to my own devices, I was going to get lost. Steve and Sweatpants were up ahead but within sight. There were about 4-5 women in the race, all nice and unassuming, which meant fast.

So we are all kind of bunch together and Debbie asked me what my hobbies were and I thought, do people still have hobbies? I stammered for a bit and then said "I read a lot", which isn't a lie, I just didn't say that it was sometimes Star Magazine. What was I supposed to say? I love to watch tv, read ultrarunning magazine and eat more food than my stomach allows sometimes. They were going to find out I was a geek at sometime, but let's make it later. I quickly changed the subject.

Steve and I had started together around mile 4 and he was giving me lay of the land on the way up, which was pretty much a good, mellow climb up to Bogus Basin, the local ski hill. The paved road goes 16 miles up but there are trails the whole way up as well. I was so impressed with Boise trail system; the greenbelt has 125 miles of trails (Jackson, wake up!!). We were on mostly single track, some jeep trail and a few gravel roads. We wound our way to the first aid station mile 9 and Jack, the man with friendiest face you have ever seen greeted us. I was eating and drinking fine, thinking I was going a little faster than I would if i was alone but felt good. The scenery was beautiful, terraced green hills filled with balsam root and lupine in bloom. We wouldn't see him for another 35 miles so we said goodbye.

From there, we were on a dirt road that went by some summer cabins, quaint and sketchy at the same time. We also ran into Leon, the local running nerd. He's mostly a road runner, evidenced by the dink shorts and ever present breathe right strip. But he comes out for these things and has been around for a while posting some fast marathon times and loving the ultracentric races now. Ben, his mini protege, talked about these races, mile loops done over and over. Sounded like torture to me. I did enjoyed listening to the stories Steve and Leon told of old Shafer Butte races going back years. Leon had cut the extra 4/6 loop and was going to turn around once he hit snow (road runner) but he helped pass the time.

So the four of us made our way to the second aid station and drop bag site at the top of the ski hill and mile 19. It was a steady climb up but still felt good and was eating and drinking well. We did have the added benefit of a very cool Boise day. Steve was hoping for some Western States heat training and he wasn't getting it. I was bummed that I didn't have gloves because it was cold and windy when we got to the top. We changed out some things and filled up our bottles and bladders. Frank told us that they couldn't get to the turnaround because of snow so we were on our own for 14 miles until we got back here. We left the aid station and headed towards some downhill, straight downhill because the snow was blocking the road so it would be a straight shot down the bowl. We ran into Sweatpants going the other way, he and Teresa had thought they were going the wrong way and turned around. They were going the right way but Teresa was done for the day, a recent injury flaring up. She headed back down and we traded Leon for Sweatpants and headed for the turnaround.

We were now 5, Ben, Sweatpants, myself, Lynnete and Steve. We headed straight down the snow filled backside of Shafer and I got conservative real fast which means I wasn't sliding but walking and sidestepping. Steve was gone, sliding his way down, Sweatpants on his heels. They waited for us at the bottom and we had a 2 mile interpretative trail loop to do both on the out and the back. It was a nice trail, fairly good climb and beautiful views now that we were up high and on the backside of Shafer.

We went up Mores Mountain, down the back and hit the turnaround, 6 1/2 hours with most of the climbing done. We started back up and noted that we hadn't seen Lynnette at the turnaround. On the way over to Mores, we saw the leaders and a couple of other runner. I saw Trevor from Victor and we shared a quick hi. But no Lynette, Sweatpants called her name in case she went the 07 route which included an additional mile on the road because of some other shortcut. We started back up and saw Debbie and Dane who were together and looking good. On the way back up Mores, Sweatpants told us a good story about his second HURT where he took some "magic powder" recommended by a weightlifter co-worker of his. He said he came to somewhere on the second lap covered in his own vomit being slapped by someone but did manage to finish the 100k that year. It made me laugh and we shared some corn nuts.

We had to now climb up the snow bowl back to the top of the ski hill and we all took our own routes and time. Sweatpants had shoes with baloney slices on the bottom because he was slipping and sliding all day like Scoobie on a soapy floor. I chose to stay far right of him in case he came down so he wouldn't take me with him. He did manage to break through the snow to the water running underneath, bummer but no complaints from him. We made it back to the top, grabbed some food, got some race reports from Frank, who's in first (Craig Thornley) and who dropped.

We start to head down running and the first 4 miles goes quickly. There's a climb in the middle of this section and I am glad because my achilles is started to ache from the hand over hand climb out of the bowl, bad sign. I try not to mental discuss this with myself because it won't be a good conversation. At this time, I am with Ben only, who I have dubbed Napolean Dynamite because when I close my eyes and he talks, it's like I am in the movie. And he says the same kinda stuff as Napolean would, num chuk, things falling out of the sky that you just have to ignore. He tells me he's in the Marines, which surprises me, but Steve later explains that he's the Marine band which makes much more sense. So Ben is no help with my Achilles but some downhill, then uphill, then stretching while peeing seems to be a help and we continue on.

We are now all together and make it back to Jack and his smiling face. Cliff's dad offers to take what we don't want to carry for the last 8 1/2 miles down and we gladly give him everything but our handhelds. We were moving well before, always glad for the walking break but running all the downhills and flats but now we take off knowing we are in the homestretch. We run the last 8+ miles, walking the few hills in 90 minutes. We are on the spine of the ridge leading us out of the foothills and down to town and it is beautiful. We pass kind and polite mountain bikers and I am loving Boise running. It's the three of us now, Ben has gone ahead after phoning his parents to come pick him up at the finish. He said he would get our picture at the end which pissed the guys off. We were running (end of race) fast having found that rhythm of running with others when the conversations are done, the friendships are set and its just about finishing up.

We see the road that will take us to less than a mile. I notice houses I didn't see in the dark on the way out and lots of flowers that went unnoticed this morning. I am hurting at this point but who cares, almost done. We hit the road and Steve and Sweatpants are ahead and I am running in between them. They are blocking the wind for me and I am getting pulled along by them and I couldn't like them anymore for it. I am dying now but still running and we are all ready for it to be over. We see some people ahead and say that it's Sweatpants fan club and sure enough, they cheer for him as we make the final turn to the tree. You have to touch the tree (Ben humped it) to finish. Frank is there so he has the official time which is charitable by 3 minutes, 11:28 fastest 50 I have ever done. It was slow in comparison to prior Shafer Buttes for Steve and Sweatpants but still a great day in the mountains.

I have my regular post race recovery drink, beer and we chat with others who had finished before us (almost everyone). Marni is there to meet us with Jed, Steve's 21 month old twin. We say goodbye to everyone, hit the Boise River for an ice bath and drop Sweatpants off at home and head to Steve's. I take a shower, we eat pizza and then brownies with ice cream and go to bed at 8:30, a perfect day.

Sunday morning, wake up, have some coffee and I need to hit the road for the 6 hour drive back to Jackson. I have to pick up the canine from the kennel before 5 so I say goodbye to the Boyengers and head home. It's a beautiful day and I enjoy the drive. My legs are a bit tired and my feet ache, but not terribly so. I will now put the recovery phase into play which will include some trips to the accupuncturist and maybe a massage, lots of protein, minimal running and lots of down time. Some runners hate the taper, not me, I'm lazy by nature and it's more time for tv.

The Strength of a Weiner Dog (Memorial Day Weekend)

2008-05-25T20:19:00.009-06:00

Every once in a while, life presents you with a series of days that renew your faith in fun. It shows you the ease of friendship and surprises you with the strength of your feelings for people. This was one of those weekends. See, lately I have been in a funk. I know the exact nature and cause of said funk and won't bore you with the details. I just know it will pass soon enough but it makes my legs dead and my motivation nonexistent. But in the meantime, I got a diversion from myself in the form of visitors.

I was planning on heading down to Salt Lake to meet my friend Cole who was flying in from Ohio. The weather was crap here and in Salt Lake so Cole decided to drive up to Jackson instead with another friend. Seeing I live in the Brady bunch house, they were both staying with me. I was beyond excited, one to have guests and two, they were boys. Hey, a girl can dream. And honestly, I am just lazy so people coming to me was so much more appealing.

I am Cole's pacer and crew for Wasatch, a job I am taking way too seriously and one which I begged to have. Currently, I am negotiating my duties with him and am hoping for complete artistic freedom to assist him in getting it done in under 30 hours. There's a lot of convincing on my part and head shaking (back and forth, not up and down) on his but thankfully, he's one of the most easy going people I know so I think I will get my way. I will study maps and elevations, learn his middle name so I can scold him like his mother would in the middle of the night. I will dispense meds, lies, encouragement and without physicially assisting him, drag his ass through the mountains if need be. The only fear being he has to drag my sorry ass instead but I will train for my pacer duties hard.

All weekend, the rain was relentless but it didn't seem to deter our fun. There was a wine tasting complete with Jackson's best decked out in bedazzled cowboy hats and sequined jeans, late nite sushi, new friends, girly drinks drank by men and cookie candles that smelled faintly of urine. Life always hopes for good stories (all true), good food and sometimes too much alcohol and it delivered. We did runs, there were climbs in the mountains and every season was experienced. My soul was fed with late night talks on wine loosened tongues. The truth comes out when the sun goes down. Anyone who has run through the night with another knows that.

So after a hearty 2nd night of 4 hours sleep, they left early Sunday morning to drive back to Salt Lake. I was left with a too quiet house and beds showing the indentations of bodies and heads of hard sleep. Often times, I find it easier to hang out with guys. There is less emotion and thought involved in the basic art of hanging out. I can say the wrong thing and get away with it easier. While I have grown in my appreciation for time spent with my gender, its fun to be one of the boys when they let you. You feel cool.

On another note, the wedding is coming up. I am feeling my sermon juices flowing again and hoping to channel one of those Southern preachers that shout Hallejah and have their perishners swaying with their heads down, eyes closed, palms facing up. But it might be a bit more serene than that.

I have changed around my race schedule too. I was talking to a friend last nite and she was mentioning Leadville, a race we were going to do together. For some reason, I have not signed up even though the entry form is sitting on my desk at work and I look at it every day. Sometimes my inaction speaks louder to me than what I actually do and what it's telling me is that I don't think I want to do it. It's too much travel, cash and nites in the back of my truck. Once I thought that out loud, it made me happy so there you go. It also frees up two races that I have wanted to do - El Vacquero Loco, a really cool low keyed ultra just down the road from me put on by Ty Draney and Speedgoat 50k in Utah. My only bitch on Speedgoat is the claim that it's the toughest 50k in the US. That's a steep claim but 10,000 feet of climbing is a good amount, there are other races with more. I just think that superlatives are being thrown around too freely these days.

I'm back...and really white

2008-04-30T18:44:00.010-06:00

This is not a picture of me, but it felt like me. I learned really just how white I am a couple of weekends ago when I donned my running skirt for the first time since last year. I am like blue-white, so white you can see veins and so happy to let the skin breathe. You get used to 4 layers of clothes everyday that you feel jubilantly naked when you get to wear just one layer.

Tax season ended, anticlimactic as always. Glad to be done and have life back, but there's always a few days of wandering around lost with so much free time on my hands, but one adjusts. And I had made a last minute decision to do a race inFruita, Colorado on the 19th of April especially with all the training (not) that I had done this winter. So I signed up for the 50 miler, really begged my way in after registration had close.

I was running around the day I was going to leave and ran into my friend Kathleen that I did the BMT with. It took me about 15 seconds to talk her into coming with me. We decided that things like a last minute trip that you can say yes to makes being single without kids really sweet. We hit the road around 4, hoping to get to Vernal, Utah, a singular scary place to go but still about halfway there. We made it at dark after dodging deer on the descent into Vernal only to find most of the hotels booked because of their recent oil and gas boom. Finally found a room available,got in one hour of Blades of Glory and slept.

Lazily woke up the next morning and got on the road after a ginormous breakfast at Betty's Cafe (highly recommend it) complete with sides of biscuits and gravy and two kinds of breakfast meats. We made it to Fruita around noon and met our friends Kris and Julie who were also doing the race and letting us poach their campspot. They had gone for a run near the starting area, but I didn't want to ruin my streak of nonrunning days leading up to the end of tax season which was at about 8.
Fruita is unbelievably beautiful with red rocks, slick rock, amazing trails and the Colorado river flowing through. I guess it's becoming the mecca for mountain biking but I think it's a great trail running destination as well. The temp was perfect, 60-70s with a strong wind. Kris cooked us dinner of grilled cheese and soup and we hit the sack.

Race started at 6:30 and we got there at 5:30 and hung out in the car. We saw Ryan Burch who had done a couple of the same races, didn't know him just knew who he was. He put on an amazing display of sunscreen application; had to have lasted a good 35 minutes, every nook and cranny. I saw him after the race and not a bit of sunburn and I can't say the same thing. My friends Greg and Dana from Colorado were up randonly to mountain bike the same time so they greeted me at the start with a hug. I helped paced and crewed Greg at Leadville last year where he was 24th in his first 100. It was great to see them.

Race got started and Kris, Julie and I ran together for a while and then Kris had to go faster because he can and he was doing the 25 miler. We all started together but the 25 milers were doing 1 lap (which was a series of loops within the lap) and the 50 milers would do 2 laps, the second being run in the opposite direction which for someone like me (whose not always paying attention) is like running a completely different trail. I was thrilled to be outside after the long winter, stomping some dirt and also realized I was feeling damn good.

Julie and I ran the first 20 miles together and a great woman joined us, never her got her name though. I was amazed when she told us this was the longest she had run and she had MS. MS, along with Parkinson, are my feared diseases; the ones I don't want (not that you want any). I was interested in the disease and how she dealt with it and especially how she ran with it. She was so open to my questions and shared a lot of information on diet, stress and sleep that is probably good for all of us to strive for. Needless to say, that section passed quickly and she went on ahead to finish her first 25 miler in fine fashion.

I was moving well, running the flats, walking the small hills. My Achilles was quiet, the calves behaving and the stomach was bomber, of course supplemented with the required crystallized ginger that I am never without. If you have ever been offered ginger during a race, it might have been me. I am a big fan. So we get to the last aid station before the end of the 25 miles and it's a hot heinous climb out. The tough part was coming up, running back to the start, seeing your friends, your car, your flip flops, cold beer and eschewing all that saying "thank you, may I have another?".

The last 1.3 miles are on a dirt road and you can see the people heading back out. I counted up the girls ahead and thought was somewhere 6th or 7th, not that I cared just counting. I also saw my pal, Steve Boyenger from Boise, Idaho. Steve has volunteered at the top of Fred's Mountain for the Targhee races that I have done three times so it was great to see him out. I knew he was at least 2 miles ahead of me so I wouldn't be able to catch up and chat.

Dana crewed me like a champ, I hit the head hoping for glory, but no luck, it would have to happen out on the trail. She filled my bladder, scolded me for not bringing it in empty, Kris gave me gels and I headed back out, no thoughts of stopping. I did feel bad for my friends that they would have to wait 6+ hours for me, but not that bad. First lap, an even 5:30. The race has about 4000 feet of climbing per lap, I like a little bit more because I suck on flats.

Lap 2 - it's heating up and I knew I was going to get into my head sooner or later and that's not a good place to be when it's hot, you're alone, fatigued and had a ways to go, but I still felt pretty good. And get this, I run into that .01% ofultrarunners that are a-holes. I see this guy ahead thinking maybe I can run with him so I catch up with him and here's how the conversation goes:

Me: "Hey, how's it going?"
Him (ahole): "Slow"
Me: "I think you're doing pretty good"
Him: "No, slow"
Me: "Well, if you are calling yourself slow and i am running with you, then you're calling me slow too" (totally joking)
Him: "Well if shoe fits"
Me: "Well, you are gonna have to be slow alone today with your bad juju" and went by him.

So I kept going and keeping in mind I always have the arsenal to call on, which consists of little prizes or things that keep me going. My arsenal consisted of my ipod (only for truly desperate times), green apple powder for my water (I decided I could have that with 10 miles to go), and some food items that I love. I set my sights on two girls ahead of me, just keeping them in sight for far away company. Get back to the aid station I had left 12 miles ago and there's Steve there. I chatted with him and he said he was going drop. I didn't see anything wrong with him and told him that. The car was there to take him back to the start but I talked him out of it.

So we headed out walking and the 2 girls I passed right before the aid station passed us back but I didn't care, I had some company. And good company at that, Steve's the perfect race companion, equal parts funny and positive. We spent the next hour nonstop talking and walking. He caught me up on his Western States training, a few races he had done this year and his friend Sweatpants, who cracks me up. We just made it from aid station to aid station, the talking trickled but not the companionship, it makes all the difference in the world. I love being the middle/back of packer because you get to talk and meet people. I asked Kris, who had a great, fast run, if he met anyone that day and he said no one was talking, what a shame.
It was a great day and I was glad to be outside for 12 hours of it. 12:12 to be exact, we ran it in and got a few finish photos. My loyal friends were waiting for me to finish. Steve had to head home to make it back to work by 11 the next morning, so we said quick goodbyes. And me, with my keen sense of smell for the beer cooler found it, but it was stocked with NA beer, whatever, had one anyways. Julie was there and she had gallantly headed back out for lap 2 with a painful IT band and pulled at the aid station I met up with Steve, 31 miles of great running.
So here's the crackpot of it all. My longest week of running this winter was about 25 miles, longest run 18. and I felt better in this race than I ever had in an ultra. The runs I did this winter were short in length but I was pushing myself more because I had less time (think frantic running). Then, I went to aslideshow last week that Eric Orton, a local trainer, was giving about his time with the Tarahumara
Indians in Copper Canyon Mexico href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/23/fashion/thursdaystyles/23Barefoot.html">
with ScottJurek , Jenn Shelton and some writer a few years back. He thought about what made them great runners and said that they did less, more often (think bursts of speed in their ball game), no junk miles and more speed and hill work. Without knowing it, I think I had done that more out of need than intelligent choice. Now, I just need to continue to do that.

And on another completely different topic, you are know looking at newly ordained Reverend Lori Bantekas. I was ordained (online for free at http://www.themonastery.org/) with the Church of Life and for perpetuity, I can perform the following services:

Weddings,Funerals, Baptisms, Last Rites and my favorite, Exorcisms. I cannot perform circumcisions though. The website gives instructions and suggestions for each of the services along with links to purchase all the accoutrements I would need. I am considering getting the parking placard because I hear you can park anywhere with those things. The only two tenets that church asks
that I follow are: promote freedom of all religions (check) and to do that which is right (struggle everyday). I will be marrying some very good friends soon, an honor for me. And that I become a reverend in the process is cake.

Running outfit? Optional

2008-03-30T20:01:00.004-06:00

I am getting creative in my running ways or possibly creeping ever so slightly out of touch with what's proper. Coupled with less time and an increasing freak out intensity over a race in about 80 days, I have come up with a plan to run anytime my feet hit the street. Need to walk the dog? We're running and Sophie's not happy, she's peeing like Olga, not stopping, point it to the side. No 2's are reserved for the backyard, no time.

The other day, I had to head over to the hospital for a check on my skin cancer removal site (boring crap) and I put on my shoes and ran over there, wasn't that far. I saw one of my clients in the same office and he said "were you just running down the street?", I said "yeah" and he looked me up and down at my outfit (not a running outfit). I have also been seen running in myUggs and pajama bottoms, jeans, chinos, etc. Uggs are really not that bad to run in, cozy and warm, socks optional. I can go a good couple of miles in them comfortably.

Yesterday,I found myself running (twice) in my pajamas, undergarments be damned.
They were the same pajamas that I wore to work (it was Saturday). All you need is shoes and (in Wyoming) a down coat. This winter I have forgone a jog bra. Anyone who knows me realizes that it's optional for me to wear one so that went out the window. I am gonna save a bundle not having to buy those torture devices anymore. It's incredibly freeing, quicker to get dressed but you can't be Pamela Anderson, then
its not fun.

And when I run in these spurts of time I have, it's like a bat out of hell. I am running, not jogging, not ultrashuffling. I am getting my money's worth and I come back to the office sweaty and out of breath, snot running. And it's the running that takes me back to being a kid, you never jogged when you were kid, at least I didn't.
Energy wasn't this finite thing like it is now. I was possibly being chased, possibly by things you didn't see or that didn't exist except in your 7 year old mind. Remember scaring the hell out of yourself walking home from a friend's house and by the time you reached the front step at mach 4, you were convinced that you just barely outran thebogeyman (which in my head at that time was Wolfman Jack, that dude scared me).

Shower you ask? No thanks. I have regressed a bit in my showering habits as well. In reality, I have never really liked showers, requires effort to stand up. I'd rather lay down so I am a bath person. After long runs, everyone wants to shower, be clean whatever. I would rather eat first.

I have just realized that I have morphed into a 12 year old boy.

I guess care a lot less about certain things than I used to and care a lot more about certain intangibles. Not going to name them, this isn't a motivational piece and everyone has their own. But I think winter can strip us down or at least remind us to stay vigilant. It can remind us of what we need to thrive or sometimes just survive by the sheer lack of it (and it's not ajog bra or a shower). When winter lasts a good six months and the sky has been dirty white for 2 weeks straight, it really comes down to surviving or resisting crazy within the isolation of it. I have always said that I wished I could have been a cave woman; I think I would have excelled at gathering.

I think that's why I like running, esp ultras. They come down to those basics - breathing, eating and moving. Not competition or expectations but merely
surviving. And I look forward to surviving all summer and fall.

I touch poo

2008-03-18T20:07:00.004-06:00

As the title implies, my life is glamorous. As in previous rants, most people know that I work a lot this time of year. It's after 8 and I am still at work here and got here around 7-something this morning. It's not recommended, it makes you fat and unhappy and my back hurts. But I got up at 5:15 this morning and did my 4 miler, happily.

So my story, first, my preface - I have never promised anyone that my blog would be anything serious or dedicated to one topic, like running. It's not really going to detail my training program because it's nothing that someone wants to duplicate. It would go something like this - no run, drink beer, no run, eat brownies, 4 milers, 18 miler, real sore. The reality of my blog is I don't have Word at home so the Internet saves my stories for me.

Anyways, I had to run home last week to let the dog out for some runaround fun. Sophie has a new fun habit (fun for her only) in that she likes to climb the fence now that the snow line has moved her within a couple of feet of getting over it. She goes into the neighbors yard and eats deer poo over there (not the poo I am talking about). She gets in big trouble for doing this and I am sure the neighbors are thrilled with my screaming at her and her dramatic interpretation of the coat hanger scene in Mommy Dearest. She starts to howl before I get to her, all, my mom beats me.

So after I get her back over the fence, I decide that seeing the snow is starting to melt, that I should herd some turds. I am all about multi-tasking when i need to. And really it was a total landmine out there and for weeks, I would be happy with it snowed and covered the last layer of Sophie's outings. But now, we were at ground level for part of the yard and it was undeniable. So, out there in my professional garb, I scooped and shoveled, part snow, part poo. The bag filled and I started flicking them towards the compost pile, not making most of them over to it.

So with a full bag, I start to head in. I should explain my stair system during the winter. With the melting and dripping of late winter, coupled with my not being an obsessive shoveler (like my neighbor) my perfectly good 4 stairs from the outside to the house turns into a luge halfpipe, gleaming with water. Sophie literally steps out and slides down, but seeing she is 1/4 Scoobie, it's in her blood to do that.

I was headed up the stairs, in my work shoes (think banana peels), holding the bag of poo. First step, good, second still solid, third, it all goes to hell, I start going backwards, there's some windmilling of the arms and I reach out to put my hand on the ground but the bag. My hand goes solidly on the ground but only by way of poo (grocery bag, not ziploc size).

I still have to throw the bag away, what to do - wash my hands or throw the bag away. I am down on the ground thinking about this and clearly, to Sophie, this looks like an invitation to play. She gets the bag away from me and starts pulling around the yard. Mommy Dearest visits again and I get the bag away from her and throw it away before washing up.

I head back to work and have a couple of meetings carefully eyeing my clients to see if they are sniffing and then wrinkling up their nose but trying to be polite in doing it. I didn't see it, but then again, I would just blamed the dog.

4 Miles of Fun

2008-02-21T18:20:00.002-07:00

I am a CPA, so that means long hours this time of the year. I work every day from February 1st on, that means Sundays too about 70+ hours a week. I work with my eye on the prize, April 15th and the melting of the snow. They usually come around the same time.

I often have pangs of jealousy reading about other's long runs or race reports because I am relegated to the 4 milers. And the scary things is I am going to run 100 miler in June, based on a series of 4 milers, that's right, that's the training plan. Jealous?

4 milers are done in frantic fashion starting with changing clothes here at the office and pretty much putting on whatever I can find. Might be smelly, might not be mine but I am wearing it. Then I drive like a madman to the trailhead (god forbid I run on the roads). We hit the parking lot and darnit! people I know are there. They have a whole hour maybe more for lunch. And really, is there any polite way to say "I would love to talk to you but my 4 miler is more important than you talking to me", no I guess not.

I definitely find that my pace is quicker and I end up sputtering up the first hill realizing that I am not in shape. But who cares? It's sunny and blue skies and the snow is hard packed with a skiff of powder for traction. Sophie is playing with every dog we pass and there was about 22 dogs today. It's a good day and for 40 minutes, I am not thinking about like kind exchanges, partnership returns or how I am going to get it all done.

I was reading Trailrunner last nite and came across the article about meditation during exercise. They talked to Darcy Africa (possibly the best ultrarunning name) and she meditates before races and uses meditation during races. It was a good read and I tried some of the techniques of focusing on breathing and your foot strikes as opposed to what you would really like to say to your boss. It worked, off and on, when I remembered to focus. Meditation has been an ongoing challenge of mine for years. I read Eat, Pray, Live recently and while I thought the book overall was sanctimonious crap, I did think she took some interesting ideas from others. So it's was all a continuation of a theme.

I also was lucky enough to encounter a chatterbox on the trail, someone that any other time of the year, I would chat with. I had run into this fellow before, on Valentines day of all days and he went on about the virtues of his unneutered lab. Sophie thought this dog was better than reese's peanut butter cups so I wasn't getting away anytime soon. And who knew how much there was to know about unneutered male dogs? So I run into him again today but I am on my 4 miler so it was head down, quick hi and pointing to my ears where I realized there were no headphones in (busted). But on the way back, I was treated to something extra special because he had taken his shirt off. We live in Wyoming, no one takes their shirt off until August at the earliest, he must not have gotten the memo.

I even got in a fartlek at the end, felt like I was flying. My feet were digging in and then floating, my arms were pure propulsion and it felt good. That is until the coughing fit hit me like some bad smoker or someone getting over that bronchial crap that's going around.

Got back to the office with an attitude adjustment and things seemed a little better, thanks to the 4 miler.

Boulder Mountain Tour

2008-02-05T18:29:00.000-07:00

Dancing helps work out the lactic acid buildup. I learn that tasty little fact as we danced the night away at Whiskey Jacques post race in Sun Valley. Granted we are all white women and my clapping and moving is more of an "at my convenience" as opposed to something regulated by the drumbeat. But with that said, no one had a better time than us that nite.

But the race, first the drive. Wake up Friday morning and every road in and out of Jackson, all the way to Sun Valley is closed. That's just life in the mountainous west, can't do anything about it but have another cup of coffee and in my case, vacuum my house (rare event). Finally Teton Pass opened, so we loaded, got the requisite bagel, more coffee and hit it. We got about an hour and a half into our drive and got held up again, this time in Swan Valley, Idaho. People were trying to go every direction - North to Bozeman, West to Sun Valley. We waited about 30-40 minutes before that road opened. It was greasy but drivable with some white out section that are almost vertigo inducing. We found this to be the scenario for the entire drive. Someone said a road was closed, you called Idaho DOT and they say it's opened, the flashing sign says closed but if you ignore the sign, you could make it. I guess in Idaho barriers mean road closed.

After a 7 1/2 hour drive that usually takes 4, we got there with 30 minutes to spare for packet pick up. Nordic skiing has no drop bags, unless you are elite then you have a team. We got our duffle and found no hat, what?! $90 registration and i get a crappy duffle, I have 4 already. Trying not to be bitter, we exchanged scary road stories with others and headed to Amy's family's house just a bit outside of town. On the way out from check in, I see "no poles" but this time, he's gonna using poles and I'm real scared. Mark said the only other time he did this race, he did it in 3 hours, sweet, I think, I have never gone over 2:05. But that was 2002 and he seemed way faster than that, so I told him to pass me kindly. I also started to think he was kinda hot.

In my vacuuming excitement at home, I had failed to empty the fridge of everything I needed for the trip and left the 65 meatballs I had made for Friday's dinner at home, so we did chicken instead and if anyone wants meatballs, let me know. I had my prerequisite beer before race day just to keep it real. Everyone stretched but I kinda "faked stretched" because my hip was killing me from not stretching enough. Wake up wasn't too early although it felt early because I only had 4 hours sleep from the nite before (reference 1:30am tirade on active.com post before this one). We grabbed one of the earlier buses because one of our girls was in the elite wave, which is almost like having a friend that's famous.

The bus takes you up to Galena Lodge where the race starts about a 40 minute bus ride. They say it's a downhill race but anyone who has heard that expression and then done the course knows that there is really no course that's all downhill, same with this one. It's got some hills especially in the first 10k and it's also got some scary, screaming downhills with sweet turns at the end of those scary, screaming downhills. And if you know me, you know my alpine turns don't exist. Everyone talks about the uphills and how they don't like them, not me. I love uphills compared to the downhills. The worst downhill is supersteep followed by a dog leg right and then if that's not enough, you come flying out of that turn (usually windmilling on one ski) and there's a road crossing where about 50 people can watch you go down in a blaze of glory.

It was cold during the warm up, the sun hadn't come out and we were wondering if we would see it. We were hoping we would seeing our skis were waxed warmer than the current weather, evidenced by the fact that they were having a hard time gliding. We watched the elite go off. I took a picture of the skis that the racers put in the track as the elite have set places to start.So funny to think that their outcomes can be influenced by a couple of feet in their starting position. There were 9 waves all together and I was in wave 6. I had been clawing my way up to this wave for years and felt it was perfect for my speed. These were my people, wave 6 people. No poles was wave 9, so I started with 6 minutes on him.

Kathleen and I were in the same wave and it was really nice to see her right before we started because that would be the last time I saw Kathleen.She went out fast and stayed fast and was third in our wave, first lady. Way to represent. I started out in the middle of the pack, big mistake heading into the hills. People are either good climbers or they just lose it on the hill and you never know who you are behind. There are usually two lines for the climbs and you kinda put your blinker on and try to go around the people flaying. I am happy to report that I did not go down once during the 2008 BMT and that, my friends, is a first. With that said, when I looked down at my watch with 12k to go and it said 1:29, I knew it was going to be a slow race.

The humiliation came at the aid station with about 10k to go when I had stopped for some gross warm heed because my camelbak froze up in the first 5 minutes of the race and now all I was doing was carrying luggage. So I am drinking my heed, trying not to poke out my eyes with ski poles and what do I hear behind me but "Hi, Lori". It sounded fast like when a train goes past you and the sound makes you whip your head around. No poles had not only caught me with at least 10k to go but he was possessed with speed. "Go get him" the girls shouted from the aid station and I took off! The energy was short lived and I lost him even though was wearing his "seen from space" tights.

The last 10k was in the flats which can be incredibly pleasant on a sunny windless day or like this year's plagued with a wind that blows in your face from both directions and needle snow. Wouldn't have it any other way. I had been skiing with a very efficient woman for about 30k, we never spoke during the race but worked well together back and forth. I love forging partnerships like that during a race. I thought I had lost her about halfway but she had tucked in behind me, which made me feel better as I felt as though I was drafting off her in the first part of the race. I spoke to her after the race and she felt the same way. We looked forward to seeing each other next year.

We both tried to pass a remarkably strong but inefficient skater but this woman wasn't having it. You know these people, hate to be passed and you can see it in their eyes when you say "great job" as you go past them. They are sticking pins in your voodoo doll and they would rather die than not pass you back, and that's fine. What's not fine is to pass and then take up the whole course, which is what pink shirt did. She was so in the middle and so I did something I never do. I just tucked in behind her and in the last 100 meters where the course opens up, I just went out and around her. I had to. I also remembered to check for frosty chin whiskers before the finish.

Anyways, finished up and my friends were ready to catch the bus back. I needed some hot soup first. I looked around for no poles to give him a line up of tonite's plans in case he wanted to join us. I already had the skinny he likes to dance, a rarity. Couldn't find him so we boarded. The drive back doesn't take nearly as long as the ride there because we had skied 20 miles of the distance down. We got back and showered and did the obligatory Sun Valley shopping, ie just looking. We got back to the house around 6 and hung out until our sushi reservations at 8.

We ate sushi and hit the bars. First to the Cellar, a little downstair club that wasn't really happening but we did our best. I talked to capeman
, who is a zz top type guy who wears a silkweight 1970s race suit with a handmade cape. I asked him about the ice dam that was his beard during the race but his biggest problem was that the zipper to his suit froze to his skin, whaaaa. We then went to Whiskey Jacques where there was a good band playing and we danced the rest of the nite.

The drive back was just as white knuckling at the ride there. But we all got home safe and sound. I then was lucky enough to come down with one of the nastiest viruses to hit me in a number of years. So I am out of commission and therefore, don't have to do the local skate race this weekend. That's a relief, there's only so much nordic dorking I can do. It's almost time for running season again.

Sorry: Online registration is not yet open for this event. Online registration will be available on Friday, February 1, 2008 12:59 AM Pacific Time.

2008-02-01T01:01:00.000-07:00

All I have to say is Active.com sucks. I never depend on them to get it right. Either they open up registration early or late, not really on time much. I can just picture a woman sitting behind an old wooden desk watching a fuzzy old tv with rabbit ears and tinfoil. She might also be talking on the phone and all the sudden she interrupts her converstaion, "hold on, Madge, I gotta do something" and hits a button, looks at the time, shrugs and goes back to her conversation. Meanwhile, a bunch of running geeks all across the country are sitting at their computers playing endless games of solitaire while hitting refresh on their active.com website waiting to be let in. We look at the time and mentally push the alarm back as late as we can.

Surely there is some computer person that loves running that wants to work their magic on the internet for a better system. One that doesn't crash and finds the race you are looking for (no luck searching for bighorn). One that welcomes Mozilla. There is money to be made here, how much have you given? I am not feeling the love back, that's for sure.

NOTE: I wrote the above at 1:30 in the morning (obviously a little frustrated) waiting for registration to open. What I didn't do was calculate the time zones correctly. I stupidly assumed that registration would open at 12 midnite MST (where the race is) but it said it would open at 12:59am PST which, for all you math wizards out there, is 1:59am MST.

Sunny Skies

2008-01-26T18:03:00.001-07:00

Okay, well they aren't really so much sunny as it is warmer. It's 55 degrees warmer than it was Thursday morning, so that's all good. It's amazing when it warms up, people start smiling and talking again as opposed to the militant way we get around in the subzero weather when stopping to chat can mean suffering. But enough of the cold.

The rest of my week went well, trainer (bike not human) Friday morning, dinner with my friend, Penny that nite. I did my first ultra with Penny and she has this zen-like calm that I try to channel in stressful times. While I was waiting for Penny, I started to wax my skis for the the Spud Chase the next day. I was undecided on wax and really kinda apathetic about it too, practically a sin in nordic world. I put some cold weather wax on one and went to dinner.

Too bad I waxed the other one with some warmer wax Saturday morning and really, I wish I knew which one was the velcro ski because one was working but the other one was clearly not. I rode over Teton Pass to the race start with my BMT crew which is next weekend. We registered, got the same t-shirt from two years ago and warmed up. Skis sucked but we had already determined that. I saw "no poles" and felt the rematch was on. Mark is really a great guy, from the UK, struggling to get citizenship (don't even get me started) and a heck of a skier with or without poles. I figured I would try to keep him in my sights.

During the warm-up, we figured out that anywhere but the middle of the track was going to be disaster, seriously soft snow made passing a haze and pole plants really deep. Powder snow is not a nordic skier's friend. I started the race in the back (normal) with Mark and the old Sheriff in town, who was a funny guy. I got stuck behind some kid, 11 years old and not afraid to block the pass. Finally got by him and a few others with polite "Could I pass on the left?". Passing the last person to catch up to Mark when I went down in some powder, damn and hard to get up! All those people I had passed went right on by and I had to pass all those people again, "scuse me, sorry, on your left". Energy level = low. Margaritas from last nite rearing their ugly head.

First lap was slow for me but the course was beautiful. Teton Springs is just on the other side of the Pass and is set on a golf course with the obligatory rolling hills and some warm springs towards the back of the property (not the "soak in them" kind, more like the "did someone just fart?" kind). We did two 10k loops and it really has a great mix of terrain. My friend, Dick was sponsoring the race through his store, Peaked Sports. Dick has been incredibly "retail kind" to me and gotten me bikes, skis and other goodies on pro deal. Proceeds of the race went to TVTAP, the Teton Valley Pathways, a great organization that promotes pathway use and grooms the trail for everyone at no cost.

First lap came in at 39 minutes and my goal for the day was to negative split (here's to you, Lisa), so I set out with a better pace on the second lap and also knew that I had time to spare without having people to pass and falls not to take. I felt pretty darn good on the second lap and even though Mark had gotten about 3 minutes (about 1/2 mile) ahead of me, I was chasing him down. Mark, for some euro reason, wears orange tights to races and now has the nickname of "tangerine dream". So he's easy spot even from far away (like space). Even though it was back of pack, people were not letting me get by so I was hanging back and waiting for a spot.

Finally I got by three people and there was 1000 meters (1k) to go and Mark was right there about 200 meters ahead. He's pantomiming using poles but I have real poles and they were going fast and hard. I don't know why it was vital that I catch him, but it was. I almost lost it before the end, using too much energy too fast (and having an odd fantasy about drinking a beer, love mini hallucinations). We all agreed that the last 1000 meters was not really measured out and felt more like 1500 meters. I caught him with 100 meters to go and told him to pick it up. I have a rule that I don't pass people at the very end of a race if they have been ahead of me the whole time. Ever since I saw that Hawaii Ironman where the woman who pooped her pants was crawling to the finish line and the other woman ran by her, I just don't think the karmic world smiles on that. I vowed not to do it. Maybe if the person had poked me with a pole or clotheslined me on the course, but otherwise, they can finish before me.

Big surprise, Erich Wilbrecht, olympian won overall and Barb Lingquist former world champ triathlon won by a boot over another girl (definitely not me). Both ladies have two kids and look like they could model bikinis. I won a euro styled front fanny pack that is available for stylish nordic outings or traipsing around Austria. Oh, second lap = 38 minutes. Negative split.

Tomorrow might find me on a run with my friend Julie and Kris. They are training for Moab's Red Hot 50k (they are doing the 33k) and want to run the entire distance so I might join them for some of the run but don't feel obligated to run all 18 miles. It will take a while because of all the snow here. Thank goodness, I never feel like I have to run the
distance I am training for. Before my 100, the longest run I did was 36 miles and the extra 4 was only because I got lost during a 50k.

Ain't No Way I am Going out in That

2008-01-22T08:37:00.000-07:00

Tuesday,Current Temperature in Jackson: -13 F, High today +12 but we know that it will never get that warm today, maybe 4. Tonite will be another chilly one down to -14, -11 the next nite. All this is telling me that I am better off inside. I love to be outside but as I get older I get smarter (or lazier, you choose) and don't feel the need to hit it hard when my lungs say no thanks.

It's funny that when you watch the national weather reports and there is a cold snap in east, the big talk is about temperature with wind chill, wind chill. In the west, we might mention the wind chill but the real temperature is low enough for us. In spite of the painful temperatures, there are some gifts with the cold weather. Usually it's a blue bird sunny day and it sometimes seems that you are in a snowglobe with the sparkling ice crystals in the air and if you get up early and go outside, most of the lights on shoot straight up into the air (for reasons beyond my comprehension) and it looks like we are communicating with aliens.

After the long ski on Saturday, I worked late so I didn't have to come in Sunday. Took the whole day off and it was wonderful. I went for a snowshoe with my pregnant friend Whitney and her two dogs, Opie and Mia and of course, Scoobie got to come. She was show stopper out there in the snow. We took it easy and went just about an hour up Phillips Pass, one of my favorite places. There were search dogs out practicing and Sophie had bust in and see what they were doing, nosy rosy. It was a nice day and prior to our cold snap.

Monday was just 40 minutes on the treadmill, mellow. Today I did 65 minutes on a 10k hilly option that almost had me turning down the speed. Treadmills are great for learning what a speed feels like and you can't just slow down or you get bucked off.

Wednesday - temp = -11, getting warmer. I think it's one more cold nite and then we are back to the positive. Just makes you appreciate 10 degrees all the more. I am excited to get outside for some playtime. I ran 45 minutes on the treadmill (broken record) this morning. I was going to do some weights with my friend Julia last nite but she was tired as was I so a glass of wine and a nice dinner was a better substitute we though. Julia is healing from a complete knee blowout.

When I first moved to Wyoming, I was shocked by the number of people that blew their knee out here. I almost thought it was like a contagious disease, something that you knew was eventually going to get around to you. I had never known anyone who had knee surgery in Atlanta (where I grew up). But anyways, Julia blew her knee out up Whimpy's which I think involved a 4000 foot climb in the backcountry. She injured herself at the beginning of the run and made it back down on her own 3500 feet down on one leg (turns were tough she said), amazing. She did want to have to call out Search and Rescue (her boyfriend is a member) and have them come out, so she self rescued.

She is recovering well and has the most amazing attitude about her injury and recovery. She says that it has given her many gifts and realizations and she has been able to see the love and support that friends can give in this place where all (or most) of us are very far away from family. We tend to be each others family out here and it can be most comforting.

Thursday, January 24th - Butt Cold - The temperature in town at 5:00am was -24, this is getting very old. My shoulders now live up near my ears, huddling against the cold. Another morning on the treadmill with Today in Wyoming on the tv. I did the 10k options with hills, breathing hard with a steady cramp on my right side for the entire time, sweet. Good news, one the newspeople, Deepak Siami is coming to Jackson to cover the Stage Stop Sled Dog race on Friday. I am soo getting a picture with him for the website. I have volunteered to walk dogs before the race's ceremonial start Friday nite. The real race starts Saturday morning and lucky for them, the cold snap should be over by then.

Still sad about Heath Ledger's death. He was a real hottie and great actor. I was lucky to see Brokeback Mountain (twice), the first time at the premiere which was in Jackson with Ang Lee in attendance. He is a true genius and incredibly humble. The short story by Annie Proulx grabbed me by the throat when I read it. I remember I had holed myself up in a tiny cabin in Montana after tax season with good Pinot, organic food and about 8 books.

Also, congrats to Paul Hopwood and Suzanna Bon, winners at what looked like a tough HURT 100. Lots of people went for the 100k distance, not sure how I feel about that option. Suzanna Bon also won AC100 and she might do Bighorn.

Heard from the folks at the Foothills Campground in Dayton. Marshall and Lea, who own the campground are just about the nicest people you could know. Get this, I wrote saying I was doing the 100, so I would need a campsite for Thursday through Sunday morning. They wrote back saying they could try to fill the site on Saturday while I running so I didn't have to pay for that nite, so kind.

Here's to hoping for warmer weather. I think it's coming.

The option of the Revival

2008-01-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

I think everytime I go out to exercise, I want to feel good and if I don't feel good, whatever the reason, I hope there's something I can do to make it go away. Today had me feeling in tune with what was wrong and how to fix it.

I woke up 6:30 and of course, checked the temp. 18 degrees to the good is running weather. Threw on a couple layers and Sophie and I hit the roads. It was snowing and blowing but both were manageable. I told myself if I did 30 minutes, that would be great because I had plans for a long ski with friends, Kathleen and Amy later that morning. We are all going to Sun Valley together to do the Boulder Mountain Tour, so perfect people to ski with. We wanted to head to the park where the road was hopefully groomed this weekend.

Felt good outside, running well just 10:00/miles on nice packed snow. I went up Upper Cache Drive that climbs the side hills up Cache Creek and ended up going 40 minutes. I had a nice smoothie and the obligatory coffee and headed into work. At work, I had a Fage yogurt with a staggering 83% of my RDA of fat in it. I love these Greek yogurts that my cousin turned me onto when I visited her in Athens. For a while, you couldn't get them in the US because they were unpasturized, not sure why you can now but I am pysched. As always, I had the yogurt with about a cup of honey on it.

So we head up to the park, catching up on the way there. We get there and it's pretty much a repeat of last weekend, 5 inches of powder on the road and it's dumping up there.We decide to come up with another place to ski and decide on Cache Creek. Its a steady uphill for about 5 miles up and then you fly down, tough but recently groomed. We decided to tack on another 3 miles by doing a side track that climbs as well called Tiny Hagen, but ain't nothing tiny about those hills. So the total ski would be about 12-13 miles.

We start out with me second behind Amy, a great athlete. I quickly started to tire so I let Kathleen go ahead of me so I could regroup a bit. Kathleen is one of those people that does everything well and can be away from a sport for a while and come back to it and be amazing. I have heard a theory of a "fitness base", where somewhere in your youth, you were so athletic that you really never lose it. Nikki Kimball comes to mind and my friend Kathleen. Coincidentally, they grew up near each other, maybe it's just something in the water.

I am avoiding the rest of this story as you can tell. All I can say is that my legs felt like the bones were hollow and my arms were of the ragdoll consistency. This is 2 minutes into it but it felt like 2 hours. What the? I was a bit nauseous, dizzy and bonked. I took lots of breaks on the 1.5 miles up, the kind where you don't care if someone sees you folded over like a dog. Kind and considerate, the girls waited for me at the turnaround, but I told them that I would be on my own today and might do a couple of miles up the main trail but to leave the keys for me.

I said I thought I was down on food but that seemed odd seeing the yogurt had about 800 calories and I had a smoothie with all kinds of fruit and more yogurt in it. I felt better on the downhill but you should have seen me windmilling, one ski in the air and sheer panic/thrill on my face. Remember my lone alpine experience came from a ski lesson in 1991 where the instructor pretty much said I was unteachable for downhill.

Got back to the car and regrouped. I ate everything in my pack which included three old clif bloks, some nut mix and lots of water. I struck out up Cache on my own taking it easier. I started to feel better and ran into a couple friends and stopped to talk (read rest). Dan, new to skating and his dog, Doc. I met Dan on the trails and I love friendships like that, pure and random, not influenced by anything. We made plans to get out together and off I went.

I told myself I could go 2 miles up and turn around. I made it 2 and felt okay, 3 miles okay and still going. I got to 4 and thought for sure, I would see my friends coming down, but I didn't see them until almost the top. Now granted they stopped and tried out someone's snowbike for about 20 minutes with it's 4 inch wide tires.

I felt great that I had worked through the problem and skied for about 12 miles total. Here's what I think happened. I did well getting fat and protein this morning but neglected my complex carbs and I am a total carb whore, will do anything for it. I usually have whole wheat toast with butter and peanut butter or a fried egg sandwich in the morning and it stays with me. I had some hint of hunger when I started and I am sure I burned my breakfast with the run and should have refueled before leaving for the ski. The nut mix at the car saved my ass. I think I coasted on the fact that I can do my morning runs without eating, but a 40 minute run is vastly different than a 2 hour skate ski. That's what I am thinking happened. Any thoughts or advice would help temendously.

Channeling Richard Simmons

2008-01-15T08:13:00.000-07:00

You want to hate the guy, but you can't. With his too tight, too shiny and way too short dolphin shorts and his spangled singlet, the guy's kinda got it going on. It's coming back around to that fashion (maybe not for men), but still. And his enthusiasm is not so much contagious as it's drop jaw stare inducing, like a train wreck. I saw our little friend on tv the other day, the fro's fading from it's glory, you can see through it but RS is still out there doing 20 minutes at a time and that's kinda what my week has been like. Hope yours has been as good. Here's a rundown.

Monday, January 14th - After the 15k skate race on Sunday, I wanted to do a mellow run with Sophie included up Cache Creek, the local in town trail. Weather was good and headed out at lunch. Ran into my hot, I mean nice, no really, I mean hot friend Derek just after climbing the ladder (small, steep hill) and we chatted for about 10 minutes (he chatted, I wondered if I was displaying my good side). After that, well, I had a spring in my step and pretty much ran flat out for about 45 minutes total.

Tuesday, January 15th - When I went to bed Monday, the temperature was 2F, so I thought I was def. hitting the treadmill in the morning. But at 6am, the temperature was 28 degrees so excitedly, I got dressed for some outside fun with Sophie (2 birds). I headed out and then realized why it was 28 degrees as the 35 mph wind hit square in the face, so not sweet! I headed towards a butte that switchbacks up to fancy schmancy houses and is all Private, No trespassing, stay away you. But with the snow blowing in my face, I must have missed those 8 signs. There were moments of serene calm on the climb up, when the wind was at my back and I stayed out there for about 50 minutes and really enjoyed myself. Sophie's got some husky in her, so she was in her element and we both got back to the house with heavily iced eyelashes and the front side of me plastered with snow. Saw another road runner out there in the blizzard but got no love from him, not even a hi, no comment.

Wednesday January 16th - My training plan is resembling more of a "New Years Resolution fitness plan" (see Richard Simmons reference above) with my 50 minute runs. If I threw in some deep knee bends and had one of those big rubber band jobs from the 50s that you threw around your midsection and it jiggled you (where are those now?), I could round it out. But my job is amping up and I don't leave here most nites until 7 (cue tears and sniffles). So you get it when you can.

Today, same thing on the menu - 35 minute run on the treadmill following by 18 minutes (random time, note: no real training plan) on the bike. One thing I have found is if you like to read when you exercise, check out the Large Print section at the library. The words are about as big as your thumbnail which makes them easier to see. Now I can't read when I am running hard on the treadmill with all the jostling and bobbing, I lose my place. But biking is perfect for reading especially seeing I didn't set up the torture device known as my road bike on the trainer. Instead, I set up my comfy cruiser bike with it's hemorrhoid padded seat, bell (in case anyone gets my way) and baskets (more than one). Now, the one problem with getting the large print books is your gonna get used to the size 32 font and it's a slippery slope after that...

Local morning new show - they all got the trivia question wrong and I think one of them even had the correct answer. Morning temperature -8, help me.

Thursday - January 17th - Got up 20 minutes early and can only note that mornings and evenings are time sucks, where does the time go and why can't work go that fast? So today did an hour on the treadmill, about 6 miles and 600 calories (thanks to the incline). That allowed me extra butter and peanut butter on my english muffin. Will try for some weights and floor work (not gymnastics) in the evening.

Morning tv - this slayed me. The topic was Ben Franklin and one of the kids asked, what did he invent? The answer from the other " the light bulb", no comment. Other topics were MLK day coming up and how Wyomingites were going to celebrate. There was a representative from the NAACP on tv and get this, she was white?? Who knew? One thing that Wyoming is lacking is diversity.

On the flip side, it's a good hair day, according to me. That can usually set you up for greatness. Temperature -2, warming up.

Friday, January 18th - 30 minute run on treadmill, 10 minute bike on trainer, pushups on Bosu and situps over Bosu, followed by coffee, a delicious smoothie and some quiet reading (favorite time to read). I don't know what's come over me but my diet has taken an amazing about face. I don't know how it happened but I suddenly love vegetables now and that has never been the case. I am having Leave It to Beaver meals most nites and I am the person who thinks cooking is a bit of a waste of time. I can live happily on mac and cheese with tuna or just chicken, no sides. I don't eat crap or processed foods but suddenly I have having the RDA of vegetables and I gotta say, I feel great.

Today show Wyoming style - One of the kids left their shoes on top of their car and was only able to recover one - that was their lead story. All got the the trivia wrong again and it's going to be cold next week. Got to get off the treadmill.

No plans for the weekend, some work and hopefully out for a couple of good hours either running or skiing. There's skate race over at Grand Targhee, but it's an hour drive each way for a 10k race, that's doesn't meet the race time more than travel time rule, so it's probably out.

Nordork

2008-01-13T08:41:00.000-07:00

Sundays are a great time to blog. There's no hurry and I am not attempting the difficult stealthy blog during work. And it's a good time to reflect on the week and see what got done. I haven't written much about my workouts and to be honest those are mostly a mystery, even to me. You see, I don't have a log or a plan. I love to read about Olga and her annual log and even more impressive is Anton Krupicka and his 5000 mile 2007 (what?). I read his blog for shear shame's sake because everyone of his training runs is faster than I could ever complete in competition. And don't discount shame as a good motivator to get out there and train. I use the entire arsenal of emotions to motivate.

But I digress. Monday was an early morning run on the treadmill while watching our local (not Jackson) Today show. I have grown to love those early morning kids and their stories about the mall walking, getting your blood pressure checked and the local can-a-thon. So I probably put in 45 minutes at 10-8 minute per mile pace. Tuesday, I did a skate up Cache (more on that later). Three lung busting miles up followed by three gleeful miles down with my new adopted stray, Sophie whose nickname is Scoobie's sister in pursuit. She's a lumbering thing but does her best to keep up. Wednesday saw an after work run on the treadmill with some mile repeats on the hill option (bout an hour) watching a fascinating medical show on lymphoedema (love medical mysteries) and I followed by alternating push ups and crunches on the Bosu until I couldn't roll over anymore. Thursday was nite skating at the only flat place in Jackson, the high school track. Great option for getting some exercise, getting your dog out and having some social time with others. The weather was less than desirable with needle-like snow to the eyeballs but everyone out was in great spirits. Friday was rest day.

Saturday I had great intentions of a long skate (20 miles maybe) in the park (GTNP)which is about 30 minutes from my house. I saw a friend at the start of the supposed groomed section of the road but she said they didn't groom which is disaster for skating. So I slogged through 5 inches of powder for a little over 2 miles and then turned around. I got Scoobie's sister out on the skijoring leash and she had some fun. She tires easily and that's what I like about her.

Today is a 10k skate race at the Jackson Hole Nordic Center. The race starts at 11, love late starts. Now, if you have never nordic skied, I will fill you in on a few of the finer points of it (IMO). First, it's hard, really, really hard. The technique is hard, like chess, seems that you never really get it, there's always fine tuning and adjustments to do. When you think you got it, they change it. The potential to fall is high (esp. me), one pole in between your skis and you're down. When you see someone good do it, it's beautiful. When you see someone new to the sport do it, you want turn away. The second hard part about it is you reach your lactic threshold in about the first 14 seconds of starting and you stay there (okay, I stay there). It's the mouth opened, snot hanging, chin whiskers frosty (ladies be aware of this coming into the finish line photo or else you will look like your Greek grandmother in snowstorm) exhaustion that allows none of your body parts to rest at any point. I equated the fatigue to swimming, you can't not use your arms or legs. They say to "rest on the downhills" and so okay I pose this to you. When you are trying to find a resting position, is it ever a squat?

I love reading about people saying how graceful and simpatico it is when you are out there skating and I think "Am I doing it all wrong?". Me, I am making deals with the devil out there. I am thinking that if I go a little further, I can have one more beer at dinner. Not to mention that the perfect wax job on skate ski is only accomplished by the brightest scientist-type people dedicated to the glide. Get your wax wrong and you, my friend, are on velcro for the day. BUT with that said, it has to be one of the perfect counter-sport to running. It keeps up the aerobic level and let's your poor legs rest from the pounding running gives us (minus the shins). AND there are times when I have met with nirvana during skates. It usually happens in the spring with an amazing phenomenon called crust cruising. In the Spring, the snow melts during the day and freezes at nite, so if you head out in the morning, you can ski on top of the snow and it's great. You can get going about 15 miles an hour and feel like you are flying. That's effortless and in tuned.

So....back from the race. It wasn't a 10k, but a 15k. You could do an optional 7.5k but what's the point? I have a rule that my race time has to be longer than the travel time, so I opted for the 15k, two loops. As always with any Jackson race, there was at least one olympian there, this time Erich Wilbrecht, a wicked nice guy who was in the 92 Olympics in biathalon. I looked over the girls there and seeing they were all in racing suits and I was wearing my normal loose fitting, mismatched, entirely overdressed uniform, I knew exactly where I was going to fall in the mix. I hung back with Heinz Walter, a 70 year old guy who regularly kicks my ass in nordic.

The first lap was good but I felt fatigued. The track was in good shape. I hit the moraines (hills) and did fairly well getting up them, counting my strides and trying to ignore the lactic acid build-up in both my legs and my arms. No sign of Heinz sneaking up on me like he does, he's got a hell of finishing kick for someone collecting Social Security. I have never been an alpine skier (such a good secret living in Jackson) so my downhill ability is probably at the level of a 4 year old with strap-on clown skis. I bleed all my speed trying not to fall possibly taking some guy with me. The guy behind me was skiing without poles (extra credit) and I could only get some distance from him on the uphill but he passed me starting the second lap and I never saw him again. I tried to not make that the crushing ego blow that it could have been. It's kinda like getting passed by the 8 year old in the local 10k. First lap - 31:10.

I was a bit worried about the second lap seeing the first one drained me. I started out trying to smooth things out and just take my time. After "no-poles" passed me, I was alone (and possibly in last place, another point to ignore). So I just worked on form and got through the moraines in better shape. The stride counting became a bit louder to overwhelm the sound of blood flood in my head, tasting pennies. But I came up and over the last hill, Little Thunder and was done. No idea of the second lap time but i would be pleased with something around 36 mintes.

The BMTis February 2nd in Sun Valley. Last year, I improved my time so I think I will move up a wave. That race is 32k and that's a bit daunting seeing today's race was 15k and whipped me, but isn't that always the case? You get humbled one day and do better than you think the next. Glad I did the local race, it is a beautiful blue bird day, warm in the sun and everyone is smiling.

Now it's time to walk Scoobie's sister (real name Sophie) and then there might be some quality couch time in my future, something I live for.

Ain't nothing wrong with the Bighorn

2007-12-08T07:45:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I checked along with seemingly thousands of others to see who got into the WS100. Really, I only checked twice but felt that was enough. I was sad for some and selfishly happy for others that didn't make it in. I won't go into the politics of raffles and amazing runners who didn't get in because that's already been discussed on many other (more informed and intelligent) blogs. I, myself, was not in the raffle, didn't even consider it because I want to run Bighorn.

Bighorn was my first ultra, I signed up for the 50 miler in 2006. Really I signed up for the 50 miler in 05 and dropped due to injury, dropped in 07 due to training weeniness but nevertheless 06 was the year. And I love Dayton Wyoming. It is the quintensetial Wyoming town, unassuming, friendly and proudly without a bit worldliness. And what can you say about the Foothills Campground? That place (minus the sketchy shower situation with spiders) is awesome. I think it's a whopping $17 a nite and the folks there are so kind and accomodating. Finally, an ultra that doesn't break the bank. One year that I didn't attend, a miracle happened as I got a call that I got a room at the b&b in town. What? A bed? shut up, but wasn't to be, as that was one of my no-show year. I should have gone, just for the bed.

The drive over from Jackson is nothing short of beautiful. Through Yellowstone, out the East Entrance to Cody and beyond. Forget how long it takes and it really doesn't matter. When you live in Wyoming, the one thing you are used to is long drives. We drive 90 miles to go to Sams Club and the mall and it's not even that good of a mall (Idaho Fall - pay attention here!).

The prerace film is a masterpiece; a little hokey and terrifying all at once. I am fine with the hyponatremia talk and all the other issues that can come up running distance. What I am not cool with is the rattlesnakes. One of the reasons I moved to Wyoming and Jackson in general is that there are no poisonous snakes here. But our neighbor the east cannot say the same thing. So rattlesnakes lazily nap across the trail, gross. The only saving grace I have is that without any trackspeed (or slow twitch) muscles, I have ample time to assess the upcoming trail and if there is ever a race I don't zone out on, it's rattlesnake alley. The other thing I learned (maybe from the film or maybe from me frantically typing in seach values like "rattlesnake bites & Bighorn trail race" is that rattlesnakes usually don't tag the first person, that person just pisses it off. It gets the second person. So, if you never like the go first when you are running with someone, this is the time to jump up there.

So that's about the only thing bad about the Bighorn. Everything else is sublime. Let's start with the race director, a wonderful woman whose name escapes me. I read a hilarious letter to the rd of the Bridger Ridge Run about how to judge the quality of a race by the race director. It's here. The essense of the letter is that if you have one of those skinny, tall, crew cut guys that would be just a comfortable in the back jungles of borneo with a knife in his teeth race directors, the race is gonna be hard and the snacks are probably going to blow. But, if you have an normal american woman, there's probably going to be plenty of bacon and possibly fresh baked cookies (that's right hot cookies).

Also, the Bighorn starts Friday at 11, who knew? That way, we all have to run through the nite (that means you Karl M). I have grown to love nite running, but it took a while to shake the hibbey jeebies out me (and rattlesnakes sleep in holes at nite, right?). So you finish sometime Saturday (nite for me) and still have Sunday to limp home. I love this race! And, unlike the Bear, which starts on Friday for religious reasons, this just starts on Friday.

So, WS100 folks who didn't get, quit whining and sign up for the race with no paparazzi but plenty of pork products. I will be there running my favorite trail (who am I kidding, I will be walking). It's a beautiful thing to coming running down the Tongue River Canyon in a sweet 90 degrees (Chicago take note), dodging rattlers and running to cookies. PS there's a nice bbq in the park at the finish and sometimes the guy at the last aid station has wine, what could be better?

See you there. Sign up is February 1st.

White as snow

2007-11-16T13:18:00.000-07:00

Now that summer is over, I decided to start a blog. Really, summer in the Tetons is over on July 5th but I had things to do. In my blog, I will offer nothing important or earth shattering so tune out now if you are looking for enlightenment because the best you will get here is a good fart joke. But whenever I run, I have good thoughts, some maybe even good enough to write down.

You see, every morning, I check other people's blogs. They are people I have met at races and their friends. All about running, mostly aboutultrarunning but also about their lives. Blogs are the unnaughty voyeurism of our time and I think that's cool.

So now, a few things about me. I'm a runner. I get to add ultrarunner as I just did my first 100, GT100 right in my own backyard . I am a stickler about monikers but only for myself, call yourself whatever you want. I had done 50 milers and 50ks for about the last year but it wasn't until I did a 100 that I let myself order Ultrarunning Magazine (until then I was relegated to Trailrunner) (another side note: I am looking for some past UR 07 issues if anyone has them). I run all year, mix in some skate skiing, swimming and road biking (but not really on the road riding, I really should clarify-I have a rode bike). I do most of my running solo and I try to make it to the most amazing places along the way, which my area has an inexhaustible supply of. Along the way, I usually get myself into some sort of scrape or two, hence the blog.

Also, I am incredibly honest, in that cringey embarrassing sort of way. I am forever re-thinking a conversation to see the errors of my way. No way to take it back (I do a good bit of apologizing because I am woman and should know better) but it was probably true anyways. Wish I had another ounce of editing power though.

So you got it - I am an honest farty runner. Oh, I forgot to talk about what I do. I am a CPA, dork in every way and proud of it. I don't dwell a lot on work in conversation or writing. I am not sure I believe those people that say "I would rather be working" and better yet, "I love coming to work everyday". I bet the boss is always within earshot when that crap flies out of their mouth along with the flying monkeys. That's not to say I don't enjoy the challenge of my job, but I am lazy by nature, the hours during tax season are daunting and really when you think about it, work takes away from me playing outside. I would rather live like the euros who stress a steady supply of food, fun, friends, family and 8 weeks vacation.

So I wanted to start my blog off with some amazing experience; something worthy of a first post. Alas, I have nothing. You see, adventures take energy and enthusiasm, both of which are lacking in my arsenal during these down months. And I let that be. I try to find no harsh judgement in my 8 hours of Project Runway repeats on Sunday afternoon, curtains closed, phone on silence, prone on the couch. I go to work on Monday and nod my head in agreement when the others talk about doing absolutely nothing over the weekend.

That being said, that was Sunday we were talking about. On Saturday, I went for a hike in GTNP (Grand Teton Natl Park) with my friend, Keith. The hike was over 18 miles and we wondered if we would make it to the lake before our self induced turnaround time. We had to drive to the park (15 minutes from Keith's house on the Elk Refuge), park where the road is closed for the season, then bike about 3 miles to the Jenny Lake and finally start our hike. All in reverse on the way back before the 5:30p darkness. We got to the park around 8:30a which we figured would be the earliest you want to start the bike in November.
Conversation was flowing; Keith is a renaissance man, forever learning and finding new interests (too much work for me). And it seems that he has a bit of a twisted side and I found kinship in that. We were in deep snow towards the end, 12-18 inches, as we climbed. Our plan (okay this is starting to sound like an adventure) was to dip in Lake Solitude with we got there. So for the last mile, I had been mulling over the prospect of getting naked in front of Keith.

A sidebar here: I always make a joke to people that stay at my house that eventually, through no intention on my part, they will see me naked. I have lived alone most of the last 20 years or so and I sometimes forget to close doors or to go in another room to change. But this was different, it wasn't the cloaked in slinky darkness with some nice back lighting as I slip into a hot tub like for the latest Ludacris video. It was stark white snow (matching my overall anti-tan contrasted only by the dark stubble on my unshaven legs) and it was a bright sunny day. The only thing I could hope is for Keith to develop snow blindness.

Also, there's no good way to get out of a jog bra, unless you're Olga. There's some twisting, a little turning, the wretched bend over and finally when you have it up around your throat and the oxygen level is so low you are seeing spots, it might come off. I won't even touch the pants/shoe combo because I am always that yahoo who thinks that I can take my pants off without taking my shoes off. Do you know these people? I'm one of them, forever hopping around, bound at the ankles, before taking a sudden gasp inducing fall.

And it's not that I have personal feelings for Keith, he's a friend with a wonderful girlfriend that lets him go on outings with someone like me. It's just he's a guy; a member of the opposite team and he could tell others what he saw.

But it was a Festivus miracle!! We got to the lake (3 minutes before turnaround time) and found it frozen over. I faked disappointment and took credit for wanting to go in "totally didn't think it would be frozen". So we took pictures and started back. The return trip was quicker but more monotonous. I thought how much faster it would be if we were running (isn't that what all runners think on hikes?), but Keith has bum knees, so we walked.

We got to Jenny Lake where we had left our bikes and suddenly we were challenging each other in that 7 year old way to go swimming in Jenny. It goes like this:
"love to get in there"
"Yeah, I don't need much encouragement"
"Don't make me do it"
"I'll do it if you do it"
"Let's do it"

What??
Idiot!
You just
escaped the prospect of full frontal nudity above treeline in broad daylight only to agree to it again. Unbelievable. But at least we had some stumps to sit instead of an open snowfield. Everything came off, I eased into a comfy 58 degree water which sucked the oxygen from my lungs and set me on a nice course to hyperventilation. Keith took the direct route and dove in but I didn't want to get too far from my stump. We got out, highfived and got our bikes. It was cold and dark with freezing rain on the way back to the car, but all worth it. Bonus, the toenail that I had been nursing since the race popped off in the cold water. I saved it for some voodoo earrings I want make when the other nail comes off. Twisted, I know.