tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-355008312024-02-20T23:11:12.866-08:00Meghan's Race ReportsVerbose, detailed reports of my races - from 5k to 100 miles!Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-22701088425646704632011-03-21T15:12:00.000-07:002011-03-21T19:55:26.035-07:00Way Too Cool!This winter's training has been the most successful one I remember. I have been consistently working out with Sunsweet Team-sters Craig, Jeff, Lewis, and Dan, with good results - at least on the track. I had given Craig the satisfaction of beating me by nearly a minute in the 4- mile Truffle Shuffle in early February, but was betting that I would beat him by 6 minutes at this year's Way Too Cool 50k.<br />
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A little after 7:00 on race morning, Craig, Todd Braje, Lewis, John Ticer and I headed out for a warm-up and preview of a bit of the new course. It was promising to be a great day, weather wise, with blue skies and cool temperatures. Back at the start area, decisions on clothing (hat/no hat, gloves, sleeves) were made and I headed for the start. Craig and I ran some strides, and bumped into Jed Tukman, one of my pacers for Western States this June. Jed said to me "I'm going to stay behind you this year, because I hate it when you pass me!" I told him that was a good idea.<br />
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I lined up next to Joelle Vaught and Caitlin Smith, both previous winners of this race. I had mentally seeded myself 3rd to those 2, but never allowed myself to think that I couldn't win. Caren Spore was behind me, fit and ready to go as always.<br />
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After a greeting to the masses from RD Julie Fingar, the countdown began. Finally, we were off at a quick clip. I was with Joelle and Caitlin for about a half mile before they began to drift ahead. Jed was unable to contain himself as was Craig, and they both pulled away from me early. My first mile felt faster than the 6:40 I clocked and I wondered then and there if I was not going to have a good day after all.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqN5wDHtH3W1uP8GNPAlmc4ZpGLMEtD9FtpwubhbL8_gM_stJf-F5s-rnu7Auz2b6DCX3VzOvtm-s3G0Q-mrB05ah62O6Cq_7cPGKWI9JY3lrea1GFDqQbNEqXwOEwBVqEwXg/s1600/194448_1932212069094_1356040241_32210101_6722405_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqN5wDHtH3W1uP8GNPAlmc4ZpGLMEtD9FtpwubhbL8_gM_stJf-F5s-rnu7Auz2b6DCX3VzOvtm-s3G0Q-mrB05ah62O6Cq_7cPGKWI9JY3lrea1GFDqQbNEqXwOEwBVqEwXg/s320/194448_1932212069094_1356040241_32210101_6722405_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The race begins! Photo by Chuck Godtfredson</i></div><br />
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The only wildlife I would see all day was surprising - a gorilla jumping out of the bushes randomly scaring runners, as we hit the single track of the new part of the course. That was a first for me. The trail felt sweet beneath my feet. I was running right behind John, and could no longer see Craig, Jed, Joelle, or Caitlin. After the first stream crossing, the trail wound upwards, and my heart rate was getting out of control. Ugh - so early, and runners pulling away. A train caught up to me and hung on me heels for the next few miles as we wound through a beautiful oak savanna. The runner behind me asked if he was annoying me being so close. "Not at all". He hadn't run an ultra in some time and was not sure how hard to go, liked my pace, and decided to stick there.<br />
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Some bikers were out on the course, cheering us on, and one of them said "Good job, Caren!". Great. Caren is right behind me. I yelled back "Are you stalking me Caren?" I'm not sure she heard me, but shortly after she passed me at a water crossing, and I hung on her heels all the way to the end of the first loop. At that point she urged me to go ahead as we were hitting the long down hill section, which is my strength and her weakness.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc6wcjSNylYbpc2kT9tl6pD2IiyPOUZ5GTpOO-olUzHTqM5hKsR9YE9bZ9s4KMCQJXdLjm8jCd5ZsfDInJsE_pVjLjeGc_F8DWa5G6F3OphmJ0Bd2O4gSSOJr5bVkWa2tozfk/s1600/192001_1672557766970_1028165060_31371048_2644590_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc6wcjSNylYbpc2kT9tl6pD2IiyPOUZ5GTpOO-olUzHTqM5hKsR9YE9bZ9s4KMCQJXdLjm8jCd5ZsfDInJsE_pVjLjeGc_F8DWa5G6F3OphmJ0Bd2O4gSSOJr5bVkWa2tozfk/s320/192001_1672557766970_1028165060_31371048_2644590_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Caren leading me into the end of loop 1. Photo by Barbara Ashe</i></div><br />
Finally, things started to click in my body. I surged until reaching the next new part of the course - the Western States Trail down to the lower quarry road. What an absolute blast! The perfect downhill pitch for flying. When it finally ended and we crossed hwy 49, I was certain I would not see Caren again. I grabbed a couple of cups of water, downed them, and forged on.<br />
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I was experimenting using a gel flask rather than packets to see if I could improve on my calorie intake during a race. Historically, I would get behind on consumption due to inattentiveness to time and the nuisance of opening gel packs, the sticky mess, and lack of getting all the contents in my mouth. Today, I was taking periodic nips of gel, trying to stay topped off all the time. So far, so good!<br />
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Clipping along the lower quarry road, my Garmin was registering about 7:00 miles. It was a good effort, but I didn't want to go any harder. I realized the Caren can easily be running that pace, and as the road began including some climbs, she inched her way back to me. We ran together for awhile and I said "I think we would make either a really good Trans-Rockie team or a really bad Trans-Rockie team" - a race where team mates must start and finish each leg together - and we concluded we would probably be pretty good because we would always be containing each other - she would have to slow her climbs and I, my downhill. <br />
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She pulled away from me before Maine Bar aid station, and I stopped to get my bottle filled. John was still there and waited for me, and we ran out together. He said Craig was about a minute ahead and that he was tired of trying to catch up to him. We settled into working together, which we do very well, as we have run most of White River 50 Mile together, he paced me to a win at Where's Waldo 100k, and we have done numerous workouts on the track and long training runs together. Come to think of it, Craig should have been with us from the start. Maybe then....but I don't want to spoil the story.<br />
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As usual, Jady Palko caught up to me, and I chatted with him for a bit. Jady is known for his sporadic bursts of speed followed by tortuous slow downs, but he seems to enjoy himself. He apparently tired of my talking and flew ahead, only to be passed by John and me shortly after. We took turns leading, and I wondered when the heck I was going to see Caren, or was she feeling so good that she would catch the leading ladies? A couple of stream crossings were so deep I wondered if she had gotten swept away. John noticed my untied shoe and made me tie it. I told him to keep moving and make me catch up. As I started to reel him back in, he started to pick it up, and fairly soon, we were beginning to roll. We flew into ALT, I grabbed and S!Cap, drank two cups of coke, and was gone.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3v_0xpLw73PLzu0AwQh2xzjbJ9aTYUYNPSKF-iQAV-Qgb2Db5uFh0ix3eKOOkTDpHdEg1bjza8RLqwGwvQFGVU-8kaknCMrsru8fhT4bDh-v2cyxFv0_M_R0R5_uRubfTAY/s1600/jtandialt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3v_0xpLw73PLzu0AwQh2xzjbJ9aTYUYNPSKF-iQAV-Qgb2Db5uFh0ix3eKOOkTDpHdEg1bjza8RLqwGwvQFGVU-8kaknCMrsru8fhT4bDh-v2cyxFv0_M_R0R5_uRubfTAY/s320/jtandialt.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>John and I cruising into ALT aid station. Photo by Carole Connor</i></div><br />
John then had to run hard to catch me, and we kept the pace going. I was feeling great, and suddenly ahead of me I spied blue shorts, grey shirt, and red cap. Not remembering what color hat Craig had on, I yelled back to John "what color hat is Craig wearing?". I got no reply, so I asked louder (we are getting older, after all). A very reluctant "Red, yes, that is Craig". I did a little happy jump, and John reined me in with a "Just wait, be patient", but what I heard was "Pipe down for crying out loud!"<br />
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I did a little yoga breathing, and John and I silently caught up to Craig. I put my arm around his shoulder and he said "I wondered when you guys would catch me". In a very sympathetic voice I said "how's it going?" He said "oh, up and down". I took off, baiting him with an invitation to "work with me!" but he declined. John and I kept up our strong pace, passing a couple more runners before we hit the base of the big climb up Goat Hill. I spied Jed and yelled out to him. He was a sack-a-woe, cramping and beat. He tried to run with me, and I chided him for not sticking to his plan. I told him his job at Western States is to make me hate him, and he said he hated me already. "But you can't drop me at Western States" I said as I left him to struggle his way in.<br />
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Goat Hill is runnable if you are Caren Spore. I could run sections, and when I got to the top was told that Caren was about a minute ahead of me. I grabbed a couple of cups of liquid, one gel pack in case the flask went dry, and flew down the hill. John was no longer with me, and I was on a mission. I was focused on not going too crazy, as there are some uphills that I had forgotten about in previous races here. I caught a couple more men, and FINALLY saw the bright yellow jersey of Caren. She was cresting a hill, and I hope she hadn't seen me, but as I approached the top, realized it was part of a switchback, and she probably saw me and picked up the pace. I kept pushing, and saw her again. Gradually, I reeled her in, called her a stinker, and she returned the compliment. Finally I said I was going around and she stayed right on my heels. We caught a man ahead, and I abruptly told him "You're going to have to get out our way, there's a race going on" and I think he probably heard "OUT OF OUR WAY! TWO B____S COMING THROUGH". (To the man we passed - if you are reading this, I sincerely apologize!)<br />
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I managed to stay ahead of Caren by a few feet all the way about half way up the trail before the hwy 49 crossing. She is a superior climber, and she pulled away a good 10 yards by the time we crested. My long legs pulled her back and we crossed the hwy virtually together. She ran close to the aid station table and whether she was planning on stopping or not, I yelled at her "don't stop!" I wanted this race to play out with no excuses. She stayed in the lead as we climbed out of the aid station, and somehow I managed to stay right on her heels in the lower section. As soon as we hit the steeper, rocky section, she gapped me again. We had less than a mile to go, and I was about to explode I was breathing so hard. I only hoped she was breathing hard enough to not hear mine, as it is kind of embarrassing.<br />
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At the top of the rocky section she had 20 yards on me. My mind was no longer in the game, but my body completely took over. My legs unwound and ate up the ground beneath me. Caren was getting closer and closer, and at the very top of the climb, I caught her - with a quarter mile to go. "Let's go!" I shouted between gasps. "I'm done" she said. I clambered down the steep dip before me, fumbled my way up the other side, and ran as hard as I could. "She may think she's done, but I know better than to give an inch," I thought to myself.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQl7a1EJq2VA-ku-ch2PQ8TefCvUr7N5e60Uw46c4AtnHXsMMNZvDI6ea_JjEWkC7m7dG5yT49z0K6hCJ7f8SlW74t6HXTc7YJdlMw5QnrvWBmrl4Ftk9Mi5cgukhJjpqDPI/s1600/finishsprint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQl7a1EJq2VA-ku-ch2PQ8TefCvUr7N5e60Uw46c4AtnHXsMMNZvDI6ea_JjEWkC7m7dG5yT49z0K6hCJ7f8SlW74t6HXTc7YJdlMw5QnrvWBmrl4Ftk9Mi5cgukhJjpqDPI/s320/finishsprint.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Finish line in sight! Photo by Chuck Godtfredson</i></div><br />
I did try to look back, but couldn't see anything. I crossed the finish line, 4:11 flat, and Caren, a mere 11 seconds back. We embraced, and laughed at how much we hated each other.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLallkRgdHzvNZN5NgyWV1UzAPm0xb6pQ-pOzD45AgU-VJQEM4Wl0DAPupIg7CtbTQwNGkMtlOd6gg3NH31H5CPZNS1_dEQcE7P7vnhM92An3Sp1ebCOZzkZC2VaZNs_5284/s1600/173064_1932218829263_1356040241_32210136_6634492_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLallkRgdHzvNZN5NgyWV1UzAPm0xb6pQ-pOzD45AgU-VJQEM4Wl0DAPupIg7CtbTQwNGkMtlOd6gg3NH31H5CPZNS1_dEQcE7P7vnhM92An3Sp1ebCOZzkZC2VaZNs_5284/s320/173064_1932218829263_1356040241_32210136_6634492_o.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>So glad to be done - photo by Chuck Godtfredson</i></div><br />
Of course, in reality, I love her for what she brought out in me, and I think I did the same for her. Without our race, I would have easily been a minute slower. I found that my body could actually take over my mind, rather than the other way around. Joelle and Caitlin added their bit of drama to the finish with Joelle taking over the lead the same place I passed Caren.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMZ7gG9V_YOtarX6WFm1kU5iClUueFjV1ZcqzUChfk2tpIeULJuOQ8jPeclPhG4UFAex2r3h3vfpTapmvmZHnPJH7S5x2W1853MFkWrTyFyCA4yk5pfRLEXOnIQT8JuCyOrQ/s1600/finishlinegals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMZ7gG9V_YOtarX6WFm1kU5iClUueFjV1ZcqzUChfk2tpIeULJuOQ8jPeclPhG4UFAex2r3h3vfpTapmvmZHnPJH7S5x2W1853MFkWrTyFyCA4yk5pfRLEXOnIQT8JuCyOrQ/s320/finishlinegals.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>The top 4 women left to right - Me, Joelle (1st in 4:02) and Caitlin (2nd in 4:04), and Caren. They were reacting to me telling them I was turning 50 in 5 weeks. And, I'm really NOT that tall. RD Julie Fingar at far right. Photo by Chuck Godtfredson</i></div><br />
This was my fastest Cool ever, even though with a different course it is hard to compare. My energy levels were great for the entire race, so the gel flask is 'in'. John finished in 4:15, and the 6 minutes I had predicted I would beat Craig by turned into 9.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc2Wnu1ptbw7cJ1BI-FnQt12sd1UI26Q2C7qFtgmSwUF9gnq7gbQivrh3wgfiI7YINALSeXkOABBF9Bor3dvru8-pAGr4Uwk9Fd1cQw4nxcCmg8ERsM3ZVUdIRxWpMfpkBbic/s1600/craigfinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc2Wnu1ptbw7cJ1BI-FnQt12sd1UI26Q2C7qFtgmSwUF9gnq7gbQivrh3wgfiI7YINALSeXkOABBF9Bor3dvru8-pAGr4Uwk9Fd1cQw4nxcCmg8ERsM3ZVUdIRxWpMfpkBbic/s320/craigfinish.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Hmmm - 4:20:27 minus 4:11....that is MORE than 9 minutes. Photo by Chuck Godtfredson.</i></div><br />
He and Jed both say they are going to stay behind me at Lake Sonoma 50 Mile on April 2nd. Really? We'll see.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYbhQ3Xond6VbYRD5teLWL8hTgcrJzWFd5DyWe4s-E0n6QGWVdBBmOI2gsC4pzCL5-ueVWtNKXWTpUyhWR8azaBhCgATaZ8FN2zAgzI3zfewYlmPws8-nY0amSvEEb4U7UQo/s1600/193395_197047786983238_100000340533453_607326_5093599_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYbhQ3Xond6VbYRD5teLWL8hTgcrJzWFd5DyWe4s-E0n6QGWVdBBmOI2gsC4pzCL5-ueVWtNKXWTpUyhWR8azaBhCgATaZ8FN2zAgzI3zfewYlmPws8-nY0amSvEEb4U7UQo/s320/193395_197047786983238_100000340533453_607326_5093599_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-style: italic;">John Ticer, Chris and Craig (you can take the boys out of Cool, but you can't take the Cool out of the Thornley Boys) and me. Photo by Carole Connor.</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-60360220695828506562011-01-12T21:47:00.000-08:002011-01-12T21:47:51.059-08:00Bandera 100k - 2011As one of the long runs in the <a href="http://blog.montrail.com/category/ultracup/">Montrail Ultra Cup</a> series, I decided last summer to enter this winter event. I figured my best chances to repeat the win were to hit all the 100ks, and now I had an excuse to try another race. Later it was announced the race would also serve as the USATF National Championship race which could possibly add to the competitive field. <br />
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Up and coming <a href="http://theturtlepath.blogspot.com/">Pam Smith</a> from Salem had run this race last year, and was only minutes from the winners. She entered again this year, and she joined the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Team-Sunsweet/217071931240">Sunsweet</a> group of Laura and Jeff Riley, <a href="http://ix.cs.uoregon.edu/~thornley/conduct-the-juices/">Craig</a> and Laurie Thornley, <a href="http://danolmstead.blogspot.com/">Dan Olmstead</a>, and I on this trip to the Lone Star state. A wealth of information, she filled us in best she could on the terrain, course, weather, and the town of <a href="http://www.banderacowboycapital.com/index.cfm">Bandera</a>. We made it out to the course the day before the race for a sampling. It was all it was cracked up to be. Rocks, rocks, rocks, dirt, sotol cactus, climbs, rocks, descents, rocks. Rocks. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoP8sY9drtQToxQmuQFSqs6BBzQUBMG8SRMDqyjqpDEyVKgoW77vXqOCqv1pMZhpKf5MwGWpuQZueg8PTQWWSU5xaWuc8DYep92rOD5x_YeMMSPGHJaq7gKtuitTflVAhyphenhyphentY/s1600/sotol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoP8sY9drtQToxQmuQFSqs6BBzQUBMG8SRMDqyjqpDEyVKgoW77vXqOCqv1pMZhpKf5MwGWpuQZueg8PTQWWSU5xaWuc8DYep92rOD5x_YeMMSPGHJaq7gKtuitTflVAhyphenhyphentY/s320/sotol.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sotol Cactus - Note the nice teeth!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">Race morning arrived and the weather looked promising for the most part. Former Oregonian and good friend Olga Varlamova welcomed us, and was the aid station captain for the start/finish area. The start for the 100k was near the headquarters, and the 25/50k start was about a quarter mile away. All races started at the same time, and the courses were staggered to eliminate as much overlap of athletes as possible. Logistically this was a great plan, but it put a big question mark on how I was going to tell if I could beat Craig in my first lap of the 100k to his JV 50k.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The ever charming Olga Varlamova</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">My time goal was to break 10 hours, after conferring with Pam and Melanie Fryer (100k Team USA member, and very experienced on this course). Pam started with a goal of 4 minutes faster than last year (10:32?) and I immediately gave her a new goal of 10:15, based on her recent performance at JFK 50 Mile. The other main competitor was <a href="http://lizahoward.wordpress.com/2011/01/10/bandera-100k-report-2011/">Liza Howard</a>, who I barely met at The NorthFace 50 in SF last month, but had been impressed by her competitiveness and humble spirit. She lives in San Antonio and trains on this course, which I would learn is a pretty nice advantage and a great skill to learn.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6TwcLDMJuZoG5h93xhwhM0kY2ly0Q3PC-Miklv01emnJhiyK9Ftr-rJ-L0JZFys5nzXadKaQnAS1r_cSbHzqOD31JmnVtkxYRG9fQsiDCjdBlgD1Gv3ORApwsHfdA-kZwII/s1600/IMG_0021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6TwcLDMJuZoG5h93xhwhM0kY2ly0Q3PC-Miklv01emnJhiyK9Ftr-rJ-L0JZFys5nzXadKaQnAS1r_cSbHzqOD31JmnVtkxYRG9fQsiDCjdBlgD1Gv3ORApwsHfdA-kZwII/s320/IMG_0021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">The race started at 7:30, and the top men bolted quickly. I was running next to Liza for maybe a half mile, wondering why she was wearing tights. We chatted briefly, then she pulled away on the first climb, seemingly floating away effortlessly. In a matter of moments, the field had thinned and for the rest of the day I would run alone - maybe with someone tailing me for awhile, maybe passing, but the largest number of folks I saw were at each aid station. On the way down the first hill, I started brushing up against the sotol. Ouch. Tights good, Lululemon shorty-shorts - bad. At first I was weaving away from it but that got tiresome and didn't work anyway.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">As Pam said, just because we get a downhill, doesn't mean we can run it. No kidding! A few long strides, then a bunch of short ones, a few walking steps, then some longs ones, then running, then another climb/hike. It was like running in 5/4 time, always one extra beat per measure that one doesn't normally expect. I started to hear music from the first aid station, so glanced at my watch. It was in the 40+ minutes range. I predicted that if I could run between each aid station in under one hour that I could reach my time goal. The music was a tease, as it was quite loud and could be heard when still minutes away. When I finally arrived it was so loud that my request for a gel went unnoticed, so I went through without, and my time was 52 minutes. That seemed reasonable to me. I took one of my gels from a pocket and gulped it down. The sotol in this section was much less abundant, and the trail flattened out quite a bit. I came to an opening and road crossing where the RD Joe was hanging out. I asked him "how far is she?" and he said, uh, I think less than a minute. Comforted by that thought I relaxed a bit. The rest of the way to the next aid station was runnable and pretty straight forward. I arrived to a helpful crowd, include Laura Riley, who was worried that I didn't have a back tag indicating my age group (a USATF requirement in age championship races) pinned one on me. She said the leader was about 8 minutes ahead (!). Wow, that was more than a minute. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The next section was also mostly flat runnable trail. Eventually I made it to the aid station "cross roads in" which we hit twice. Laura was there again, ready to help make sure I had what I wanted. I grabbed gel, heed, and took off. Alone again, I was ambling along at a relaxed pace when I heard footsteps. When I finally turned I saw it was Pam! She said something very cute - about feeling like she was in some parallel universe where she was way ahead of where she thought she would be. I told her all I kept thinking was we had to do this loop again. Worried that maybe I had been too relaxed, I picked up the pace, and through the technical section, she dropped off. After more climbing, getting scratched up again, encountering 50k runners, the trail turned downhill, back into 'cross roads out'. I was hitting all aid stations in less than an hour. I asked the volunteers where Liza was, and they said about 10 minutes ahead. I forged on, into a section with a lot of climbing. Into the next aid station in 45 minutes, I asked again, and I was seemingly holding my own with Liza. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The next section had two big climbs - Cairns Climb and Boyle's Bump. I was pretty much reduced to grinding up and gingerly going down. When it flattened out, I reminded myself to save something for the next loop. Coming down from Boyle's I tripped, fell ALMOST to the ground, but stopped in a full plank. Gingerly getting up, I was relieved to be unhurt. I picked up speed gradually, hit another downhill stretch with a 90 degree turn at the bottom. I caught my toe and crashed HARD, calf cramping slightly. My first thought was "am I done?" but my body allowed me to walk a bit then jog, then run. Entering into the only out and back section before the turn around for the loop, I strained my eyes looking for Liza, but to know avail. At the turn-around I was ahead of my 4:45 projected time, in 4:37. Craig was there, and let me know that he had barely beat me in the JV race with a 4:32. Liza was reportedly 12 minutes ahead now. Olga took over getting me fueled up and focused, and I was on my way to 'race' the second half. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It was warming up, so I tossed my beanie, but given the protection from my gloves and arm warmers from the last crash, I kept them on. I got my wheels going, and just before the end of the out and back, Pam was on her way down. I was only about 4 minutes ahead of her here, and she looked in complete control.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now it was time to race, go harder and try not to have too huge a positive split. However, the hills felt a little steeper, and before long I could hear Pam's voice. I pushed harder, and when I had the opportunity and could hear the loud music of the aid station, I started to roll pretty fast. I kept checking my watch, thinking I should be well under an hour, but sounds can be deceiving. When I finally arrived, I was over an hour. It felt impossible to be that much slower, especially given how hard I was working. I ate a gel, had my drink filled, and found that Liza was now 13 minutes ahead. Dang, that girl was GOOD! I took off, still trying to maintain some speed. I caught and passed one man, but he stayed fairly close. I kept looking back, expecting Pam to come cruising by at any moment. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVipJH4rgYw6St4zJQz7cPYOZHhYV5rVJx_LIJCdn9L_v7lWWPNQkoAuplJAWHSrHyRz07FQKJpqTK35O4WVnqqpYVr6VoXZik_QjxmXHQ3cQiPHYxL_23yfgBq4b4ktuhMNU/s1600/170906_183704578315163_100000268667568_608200_300711_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVipJH4rgYw6St4zJQz7cPYOZHhYV5rVJx_LIJCdn9L_v7lWWPNQkoAuplJAWHSrHyRz07FQKJpqTK35O4WVnqqpYVr6VoXZik_QjxmXHQ3cQiPHYxL_23yfgBq4b4ktuhMNU/s320/170906_183704578315163_100000268667568_608200_300711_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I looked about how I felt. Bleah.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I made to the next aid station, and was greeted by Craig and Laura, who both crewed me through. I had actually cut into Liza's lead, down to 8 minutes, but as I told my crew, I was pretty tired. I jogged out, and really didn't pick up the pace much above that. I was going SLOW, which was too bad, since it was one of the most runnable sections, hardly a rock, hardly a hill. The man I had passed earlier passed me back, then another. I heard a water bottle full of ice coming behind me, and when I turned to look, saw Pam cruising along quite comfortable. "Alright Pam! You are looking GOOD!" She was gracious and encouraging, and ran by me like I was standing still. Seriously, I was amazed at how quickly she disappeared from sight.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">As I slogged along too tired to care about the race momentarily I felt I had entered that zone where people "DNF". I didn't want to quit, but I understood why folks do. I came to Bandera to run 62 miles, and I intended to get it done, provided I was not endangering my health. I wasn't bonking, hungry, or hurt, but I had shot my wad racing hard for 40 miles, and now it was time to pay. I felt like crying (like a baby who needs a nap), but focused on what I needed to do at the next aid station to fix myself up for the rest of the day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I ambled in, and Laura and Craig came to my aid again. I told them I just need to fix this and get going. I grazed on almonds, asked for some ramen noodles, drank some coke, and finally decided to go. I had stood so long my knees were a bit achy as I left. I got to see Dan come into this aid station at the end of the loop, before he headed into his fourth place finish. This loop is one of the shortest legs of the race, but as the RD had promised, every climb looked a little steeper, every rock a little bigger. I was no longer completely dead, but I didn't anticipate a huge bounce back. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I finally made it back to the end of the loop. Laura helped me again get plenty to eat and drink, assuring me that I looked much better than last time she saw me. I said I at least felt like I was running. I had 9.5 miles to go, something I had accomplished in 1:30 first time around. I thought I was going slow, but that maybe I could do the same distance in 1:45 and hit the goal of 10:15 I had set for Pam. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">There isn't much to say about the rest. At the last aid station, the volunteers asked me if I wanted to know where the leaders were. I said not really, it didn't matter anymore. I got through the last two climbs and descents without falling, and was happy that my feet weren't hurting given the rocky terrain. I had a decent kick at the end, and was swept up in a hug by Olga at the end, where I unwittingly used an expletive to describe the course in a very loud voice, much to the amusement of all those around, including RD Joe Prusaitis. My time was 10:19. Pam and Liza were both there, looking as if they had already showered and napped. Pam ran 9:46 (50 minutes faster than last year?) and Liza, 9:35. All three of us broke the previous course record.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSGs9U22Jyf03hInGq4jUEyxGcxaTU2LLLPbkbR2YQku0bq1xwbC_8V0SVQ81kS0tMr-Xj4R8t2yIRFSKdKOCLaBnSmxIRf3ErIpCnsS43rBNJCYMhDswVysV7JGDa6GxODM/s1600/IMG_0052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSGs9U22Jyf03hInGq4jUEyxGcxaTU2LLLPbkbR2YQku0bq1xwbC_8V0SVQ81kS0tMr-Xj4R8t2yIRFSKdKOCLaBnSmxIRf3ErIpCnsS43rBNJCYMhDswVysV7JGDa6GxODM/s320/IMG_0052.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>You ran HOW fast?</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Frequently when thinking of my goals for a race, I remember a key one is 'learn something new'. With this race I thought of that at the end, as I indeed learned that I can reach a point that may feel like there is no return, and by trying different things, I may come back. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-79421517615801866212010-12-08T16:11:00.000-08:002010-12-08T16:11:17.272-08:00The NorthFace 50 Mile ChallengeThis was to hopefully be the icing on my cake for 2010. My racing year had never been better, and after the harsh pavement of the World 100k Championships, I was anxious to hit some trails and recover my brain from the mental taxation of aforesaid event. I had no intention of digging myself into a hole of woe, instead celebrate what trail running brings to me and to my many ultra running friends. Joy!<br />
<br />
I was hosted by the wonderful Fitzpatricks of Larkspur, near the race start and finish area. Tim saved me a trip into the city and picked up my packet for me. Diana volunteered her day (starting at 3:00 a.m.) to take me to the race start and to crew me at all possible aid stations. She and Tim enlisted fellow ultra runner Jed Tukman to pace me from mile 28 to the finish. Everything was in order and I was relaxed and happy.<br />
<br />
The night before the race, I was in bed by 8:00. I started waking up at 1:00, excited to be ready to embark on trails. Finally at 3:00 I got up, had coffee and oatmeal, and by 3:45 Diana and I were on our way to the start. She brought me to a shuttle at Rodeo Beach, gave me a throw away tee to keep warm in, and then we parted, planning on seeing each other at the second aid station. <br />
<br />
At the start I milled about looking for familiar faces. Being out of the normal region and in the presence of athletes from around the country and world, I didn't see anyone I knew until I finally saw Kami warming up. We briefly caught up, and continued to warm up. Finally as the start time drew near, I saw Krissy Moehl, Joelle Vaught, Lizzie Hawker, Jenn Shelton, and Rory Boseo. The final countdown came and went, and off we flew.<br />
<br />
I ran with Joelle for a very brief period, then Rory for a bit. It was too dark to really see who was ahead, which was just what I wanted. I did not want to get caught up in the early race frenzie and end up suffering early and long. Then Jenn and I ran together for a bit. She asked me what I thought of the early pace, the runners ahead, was she going fast enough. I said "Honey, we've run 1 mile. We have 49 miles for them to slow down." She bought it to some extent, but pulled ahead effortlessly nonetheless. I next found myself running next to Krissy. We chatted briefly, and I knew she was coming back from an injury. We crested the first climb, still in the dark, and as I took advantage of the downhill, she slipped further back. I surmised her injury was bothering her. <br />
<br />
On and on into the darkness we ran. We finally hit aid station 1, but I blew through, not having drunk much in the cool temperature. Again we were faced with a long climb, and the headlamps ahead gave me an indication of how far up we had to go. I kept my heart rate below 170 on the climbs as much as possible, otherwise I was staying very relaxed. Still in the dark, I passed 2 women as we hit aid station 2, and Diana was there, very visible, handing me an open gel and a fresh bottle. It was a seamless exchange. <br />
<br />
On the downhill I cruised along, chatting with whomever was nearby. Gradually the day began to lighten, and I could see the runners ahead. There was a woman I was closing in on, but we hit another long climb and she kept her distance. We broke out into the coastal area - narrow single track, grassy, windy, and I was feeling pretty slow. I didn't fight the feeling or the wind, just kept plowing along. As usual, I got passed by the men on the climbs, and passed them back on the downs. Cruising along to the Muir Beach aid station I saw Devon who was cheering me on. I yelled out to her "Devon - where are you?" She assured me she was "Right here!" I was disappointed that she wasn't in the mix that day. At this point I caught the woman I had been tailing, Helen Cosposlich, we visited briefly, and I pulled ahead.<br />
<br />
The course went along the pavement for a spell, then entered single track again. I passed 2 women on my way, and really enjoyed the very, very long climb with short and not-to-steep switchbacks. I met a man from Juneau, who was there with 6 other Alaskans, feeling very proud of their Geoff Roes. The climb was relentless and deceptive. Every visible summit was false, until finally we reached the top. A little pavement, and onto single track in the woods, some technical downhill through a dense redwood forest, and I could hear the bells for the next aid station. As I climbed up to the road, Diana and Jed were there, ready with the gel, bottle and words of encouragement. I asked what place I was in. Diana replied "you're in 10th, right where you want to be. There are some dreamers up there." I ate a bit of banana as I was feeling peckish, drank some Mountain Dew, and listened to Jed describe the trail I was about to embark upon. I was on my way again, on some rolling, beautiful eucalyptus lined trail. I was clipping the heels of a runner before long, and asked him to choose a side for me to pass. He let me by and I opened up my stride. Feeling pretty good, I cruised along, until reaching a fork in the trail. The monitor there instructed me to the right, letting me know it was the beginning of a long out and back section. <br />
<br />
I started to struggle in the now open space. In a few minutes I was facing the front pack of about 5 men, recognizing only Jeff Roes who was in 2nd place. A few other men came next, and then Erik Skaggs. We encouraged each other, then next was Hal Koerner, followed by Uli Steidl. Around another turn, and I met Lizzie Hawker, leading the women's race. She was followed soon by Anna Frost. Another turn, and I saw Kami. We cheered each other on, and cresting a hill, I heard a familiar voice cheering me on. Looking up and seeing Krissy, sidelined, I was saddened that she had had to drop. Inspired by the 3 women ahead of me so far, I started to feel excited. I next met Joelle, then the 5th place woman, followed by Jenn, who looked fabulous. Seventh, eighth, and ninth were unknowns to me. I hit the turn around aid station, just as the skies started to open up. The volunteers were attentive, and as they filled my bottle and opened a gel, I asked someone to pin my number on, as it was barely hanging on by 2 pins. I was offered a poncho to run in, but politely declined. Finally ready to go, I cruised out and started to feel great - maybe from seeing the women ahead, or maybe because there was a tailwind. <br />
<br />
I finally made it back to the turn that would bring me to Stinson Beach where Jed would start pacing me. Avery long downhill with lots of switchbacks, and I could see some women ahead that were getting closer and closer. I passed one as the trail flattened off, and followed the other one through the town as we hit pavement. Jed appeared on the road and led me into the aid station, with the woman ahead of me greeted by her coach with "Allez! Allez! Allez!" Diana handed me my bottle and Jed and I were off onto the next climb.<br />
<br />
He was somewhat surprised that I wasn't completely dead to the world. Because he was from the area, he knew all of the trails, so was able to describe each section we came to. The most beautiful for me was the Steep Ravine. Huge redwoods, a stream flowing down the center, rock steps leading upward. Jed described every little climb, which were walkable, which were runnable. We came to a ladder in the trail, and Jed teased about my "glistening calves" to the race photographer documenting the race at this trademark point. While Jed knew each trail, he didn't know the course and continued to second guess the race course and aid station locations, consistently wrong but eventually right. I didn't care, as long as we were on course and he could describe the trails, I was glad of the expertise.<br />
<br />
Next aid station we saw Diana again, and she said the next two women were still just 3 or so minutes ahead. We scooted out and hit a very long, technical downhill. There were other races going on, and with marathon and 50k runners on the trail, it became somewhat congested. Jed started yelling ahead "50 mile racer coming on your left" which meant I had to run faster to get around. At last we hit a flat section that could have meant an accelerated pace, but with the rain and the multitude of runners, it was very slick, so I settled for gently tripping along from one side of the path to the other, occasionally skiing. <br />
<br />
The next two aid stations were a blur. In and out amongst all the races, we were faced with another very long climb up an exposed, muddy service road. Too slick to run, we hiked the best we could. Jed did a good job of pointing out sites along the way (the Pacific Ocean is pretty awesome) and keeping me going strong at the same time. At last we reached Diana for the last time at mile 45. Again, we were back 2-3 minutes from the two women in front. Looking at the looming hill ahead, I left my last bottle with Diana, sure I wouldn't need it for the last hour. Chugging along, Jed in front now, he said "if you run this entire hill, you will catch them, I guarantee it." True or not, I had to try. I ran, in the sense that I wasn't walking, the entire 20-30 minute climb. One more aid station, I drank some coke, and Jed asked if I wanted to carry a bottle. "I'm outa here" I said and started to fly down the hill ahead. It was without trees to block the view, and up ahead I spotted my first victim amongst the marathon and 50k racers. Jed was beside me and I suggested he not let anyone know we're coming at this point. He knew better, and as we approached her we quieted a bit and breezed by. She looked up briefly, and then did a double take when she the color of my number. "Wow! Great job!" I could barely muster a reply, but acknowledged her best I could. I later learned it was Liza Howard, winner of Hard Rock 100 last summer. <br />
<br />
I looked forward, and saw victim number 2. We continued to bomb the downhill and just as it flattened out, we caught her. Now Jed was giving me distance-to-go data. "One more mile! That's just 4 laps on the track!" I was starting to go into all kinds of debt, evidenced by my loud squawks with every breath I took. "Arms! Arms! arms!" and "Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!" Jed was yelling. "Three laps on the track", "Two and half laps". Ugh. I was starting to tie up. The road turned gradually uphill and I desperately wanted to see if either woman was coming back. The curve in the road hid the finish line until the last minute, and I bombed down the grassy field to complete the course. My time was not stellar, 8:47 (a mere HOUR behind winner Anna Frost), but I was pleased with my overall place of 6th. <br />
<br />
Diana and Jed did a fabulous job getting me through the day, and I ended my 2010 season on a very positive note, feeling motivated for 2011.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-82572062572650127212010-11-12T13:24:00.000-08:002010-11-12T13:24:10.324-08:00100k World Championships 2010<div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3P3C5vabRXvtjyzNxYA5iimEe6sp6c2yXozNybzgu-cCVKjdfrYldsX5dk0gtbNJkNPar7r4oLBwG8_Q06E02S9tGO1aKnjIP3-jR6-Nc20eY7ayvRFEgEuwuJb4KZmJz4lY/s1600/DSCN1497.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3P3C5vabRXvtjyzNxYA5iimEe6sp6c2yXozNybzgu-cCVKjdfrYldsX5dk0gtbNJkNPar7r4oLBwG8_Q06E02S9tGO1aKnjIP3-jR6-Nc20eY7ayvRFEgEuwuJb4KZmJz4lY/s320/DSCN1497.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The Rock of Gibraltar</i> </div> <br />
Gibraltar seemed and continues to seem a bit of an odd place to hold a 100k footrace. The longest stretch of road from the Spanish/Gibraltarian border to the tip of the main road in Gibraltar is about 3 miles, but the race officials managed to create a course that only used about half the distance, giving us an opportunity to become well acquainted with a 5k loop. Arriving 3 days before the race seemed ample time to review, and also allowed an entire country tour of the Rock with its charming "but do not feed" Barbary apes, crazy traffic, and a bajillion tourists, and 30,000 citizens (none of which had a clue that there was going to be a race, let alone a world championship).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCebuJSffQtLakm2YiY106xAg8DnacYbpzF4Z0Z9iRhNxiht2iyxVqJ6gCOAEQvMBSsrTgJoFqQf_qbnsFkWYu6WK4Hx4dJXn0gfpl9W5bKbhpARN6v7Pr2amHdsAxSD-b61c/s1600/babyape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCebuJSffQtLakm2YiY106xAg8DnacYbpzF4Z0Z9iRhNxiht2iyxVqJ6gCOAEQvMBSsrTgJoFqQf_qbnsFkWYu6WK4Hx4dJXn0gfpl9W5bKbhpARN6v7Pr2amHdsAxSD-b61c/s320/babyape.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><i>Gibraltar</i> Barbary Macaque</i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGSzTEdRYQJ4hdzmLRsaTgGEsfojRk-Wuz2LG3GFS9Tz9Xm7lD8P9CUeBv09wO_9eBe_w8wTcvz2L09FwPDqjsDqL2gdyQTTOTPuZRk2-Amm0BVUScohc6MseqGumqzf14lA/s1600/crowdedgibraltar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGSzTEdRYQJ4hdzmLRsaTgGEsfojRk-Wuz2LG3GFS9Tz9Xm7lD8P9CUeBv09wO_9eBe_w8wTcvz2L09FwPDqjsDqL2gdyQTTOTPuZRk2-Amm0BVUScohc6MseqGumqzf14lA/s320/crowdedgibraltar.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Normal pedestrian traffic on Main Street in Gibraltar</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3P3C5vabRXvtjyzNxYA5iimEe6sp6c2yXozNybzgu-cCVKjdfrYldsX5dk0gtbNJkNPar7r4oLBwG8_Q06E02S9tGO1aKnjIP3-jR6-Nc20eY7ayvRFEgEuwuJb4KZmJz4lY/s1600/DSCN1497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i> </i>It was great having the team all together, with a few new faces, and minus some regulars. We all got on famously, running, shopping, eating, and touring together. Saturday afternoon was the traditional Parade of Nations. This year, the local organizing committee (LOC) had arranged some opening ceremony entertainment with local dancers and a marching band.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenzwO8zVSC-xo60mjSk5T5S4eUZ79p3N4SNZ0v3tjFqTBg6pgXZWop24YRvZOi0niWG0yXsFNAbG3MkBPJurOhQZrhFRW4nJeGYrcPgMR1vFv7DtKDxZ9S0WI8AWeMDh5xFU/s1600/parade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenzwO8zVSC-xo60mjSk5T5S4eUZ79p3N4SNZ0v3tjFqTBg6pgXZWop24YRvZOi0niWG0yXsFNAbG3MkBPJurOhQZrhFRW4nJeGYrcPgMR1vFv7DtKDxZ9S0WI8AWeMDh5xFU/s320/parade.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Parade of Nations</i> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTtR4OL7F3wEfm99re8BmaAhBh2EI6awSgzfUU5QVClXnp9IFMP1bWWAygrpBgmCKABl_qNCkGaJnzE-YiOTL7nOJgVfxlpRSrazFKg8cxhFhMRgY1LW9Wqe6fplbwVfU3jTQ/s1600/alltheteams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTtR4OL7F3wEfm99re8BmaAhBh2EI6awSgzfUU5QVClXnp9IFMP1bWWAygrpBgmCKABl_qNCkGaJnzE-YiOTL7nOJgVfxlpRSrazFKg8cxhFhMRgY1LW9Wqe6fplbwVfU3jTQ/s320/alltheteams.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<i>Assembly of the teams</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Next morning, the team was up at 4:00, having breakfast and getting the supplies together for the aid station. At 5:00, we were delivered to the race start at the dock, where we chilled out on the cruise liner that served as housing for most of the teams. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I felt pretty good. I had gotten enough rest over the past few days, and my clock was reset to the time zone. My time goal was 7:45, but I felt that if I had a really great day I could pull of a 7:40, and if I had a tail wind for every loop all the way around, then maybe a 7:35! I had been feeling fairly comfortable at 7:25 pace during training, and was hoping that at my steady HR of 155, that I would actually be running 7:20 pace. I was all set to use my Suunto foot pod and HR monitor, when Lin broke the news to us that at the technical meeting it was announced that there would be no use of Garmins or Suuntos or any pace/distance measuring tools as they were afraid they might interfere with the chip timing mats. WHAT? WHAT???? It was no joke. I was planning on using the Suunto until I was asked to remove it (worth a yellow card), but while warming up I saw that NO ONE had a foot pod. I thought that rather than everyone abiding by the 'rule', the athletes would all use their normal stuff in protest, since we all knew that it wouldn't interfere. So rather than risk being asked to remove it later when my hands might not work, I took it off before the start. I still had my HR monitor, and I figured using the 10k markers during the race I would be able to figure out how I was doing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">At 6:30 sharp, the race was off. We had a bit of a contrived start that would land us on the approximately 5k loop after 4k of running. We headed straight down a road, came to a round about, went around and headed back on the other side of the road back towards the start. Before getting all the way back we went around another round about and headed back in the original direction. Seemed fairly straight forward and I was getting into a rhythm, when up ahead I saw the entire race had come to a dead stop. Unbelievable. Then the runners were directed to do the small loop one more time. Nice. Well, at least we were all doing the same wrong thing under the direction of race officials. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Finishing the extra loop, we eventually made our way onto the loop. My HR was between 155-160 and I felt good, but I didn't know how fast I was going. The lower part of the loop took us fairly straight until we came to the ship yards. Here we made a 90 degree right, went straight for about 100 meters, then left 90 degrees, then some lesser harsh turns until we made a 180 degree turn onto an up ramp. At the top of that, another 90 degree turn left, a bit of rolling terrain, and then another 90 degree turn left down a short steep hill. On this downhill was the first 10k post, but my watch said 43 minutes and I had no idea if the mark was 9k, 10k, 11k....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">At the bottom of the short steep hill was about a 100 degree turn that was hard to make without swinging wide. Then it was flat for about a kilometer, a 90 degree turn right, then left, then voila - we were at the aid station! Dad and Lin were both ready to hand me either Gu-brew or water - I grabbed the brew, and heard Lion yell out to me that the race organizers would figure out how to get rid of 1k during the race. I hit the timing mat in 45:xx, still not sure how far I had run. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span id="goog_523996259"></span><span id="goog_523996260"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNKDSz2-MYw3xV-WIe2HjUqUR7fXpnVS2BwgB1ecbDh4q_ucNh59EW2cJOl6AOchyTuIgnfuTmPdaJZN-SUdapBEGlPn2-1pIku6Q9svRI0QTRjl56fGfYZoFuHfbbnM3nlk/s1600/linaid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNKDSz2-MYw3xV-WIe2HjUqUR7fXpnVS2BwgB1ecbDh4q_ucNh59EW2cJOl6AOchyTuIgnfuTmPdaJZN-SUdapBEGlPn2-1pIku6Q9svRI0QTRjl56fGfYZoFuHfbbnM3nlk/s400/linaid.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>A perfect hand off! Photo by Matt's brother-in-law Darryl Schaffer</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And so began the laps of the 5k loop. We had some head wind that change to cross wind that would change to tail wind, but nothing significant with the amount of change in the course. I tried to stay relaxed, balancing too fast with slowing down to get my HR down, only to have it back up again. Lap 2 took 22:xx minutes - a bit quick, so I tried to slow down a bit, but lap 3 was about the same. This went on for a number of laps, until about 8 (I think) and I had to make a pit stop. A 23 minute lap, and I thought the next lap would come down, but it was the beginning of my slow down. I still didn't know where I was,distance wise, and went through the marathon in 3:09. That would have been acceptable, if it were right. I just wasn't sure. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">At the finish of each lap, just after I got my aid, a man with a clipboard and the ability to keep the race straight, was telling top runners there place. I started in 6th, 1 minute behind the leader, then 2 minutes behind the leader, then 3, and the lead continued to grow. The men's and women's races were unfolding before me. Lizzy Hawker of Great Britain was leading the women, with Elly Greenwood (also Great Britain by way of Vancouver, BC) in second, and Monica Carlin (Italy) in third. For the men, the US was running strong, with Michael Wardian, Chikara Omine, Matt Woods, and Chad Ricklefs holding very good positions. Carolyn Smith was not far behind me, shooting for her first sub-8:00 100k, and our third and final female Melanie Fryer was looking comfortable, but running on a not yet healed bruised metatarsal, her chances of finishing were very slim.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">I moved into 5th place, but the lead was getting bigger, until 50k it was 12 minutes. The lap man stopped telling me about the lead, but continued telling me where the next woman ahead was. I went through roughly 50k in 3:46, with 10 laps to go. Now if I could not do worse than 4 hours for the 2nd half, I would at least have a new PR. Finally, the race organizers set about to correct their mistake by altering the 12th lap - taking out the climb. After each race entrants had completed their 12th lap, they continued in the original pattern. Men with clipboards and 2-way radios kept it very efficient and accurate. And when I was finally aware of my time and distance I realized I probably went through the marathon in 3:05 or 3:06, and the half in 3:41 or 3:42. Oops. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">While I wasn't exactly tanked, I wasn't moving as easily now. It was becoming a battle of the wills. It was all I could do to not think about quitting. I counted my laps downward, and each time I started a new one I was counting how many more times I had to start a new lap before I had gone 20 feet. "Only 9 more starts!" </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The crewing by my Dad and Lin continued seamlessly. They would see me coming 100 meters away, holding up my options. I would yell "juice" or "water" or "juice and salt" or "water and salt" and without missing a beat I would be on the other side of them, the whole US support team cheering me on. It gave me such a boost that I would momentarily forget how bad I felt. With 70k under my belt, I was saddened to hear Todd Braje and Melanie Fryer both cheering me on, and I knew they had dropped. Only 6 more laps to go, which meant 5 more starts.....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYXiz_LGbtnolH3ec3WdF8uSsWsTIpeNDHpTC0_18GdgmDUqaHKuyDeHh85rYR83kGtxSniO-KhCE2F1b7KQ18ilXpnaEbq6mi6vcNk4NyT2vMN9EcV60g0JMiAMiVTNMXPA8/s1600/aid2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYXiz_LGbtnolH3ec3WdF8uSsWsTIpeNDHpTC0_18GdgmDUqaHKuyDeHh85rYR83kGtxSniO-KhCE2F1b7KQ18ilXpnaEbq6mi6vcNk4NyT2vMN9EcV60g0JMiAMiVTNMXPA8/s400/aid2.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Hand off by Dad - photo by Darryl Schaffer</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I kept drinking the Gu Brew, taking salt more frequently as my legs became more pained and crampy. My HR was still around 158-160, so I was able to run with some effort, but no extra. I had moved into 4th place due to some drops, but was then passed by a woman from Sweden who blew by like I was standing still. Wow. She looked fantastic. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">One more lap down, 4 more starts. My original plan, before I went out too fast, was to pick it up for the last 4 laps. I bargained my way down to 3. I didn't pick it up at all, but with 2 laps to go, I was starting to smell the barn. Fortunately, as I was about a third of the way into it, I got to see the top 3 women who were now separated by about 20 yards. Elly was now in the lead, then Lizzie, and Monica. It was a beautiful sight! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Finishing up the penultimate lap, the lap counter said "5th place - next woman is 2 and half minutes behind you!" Okay, I thought, no way are you going to let someone run this last 5k 2.5 minutes faster than you. I began to really put the pressure on, and as I was running on the main stretch away from the aid station, I heard him yell again "she is only 2 minutes down!" He had cut across the course and chased me down to let me know, and boy did I appreciate that. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Very focused, I ran hard, and when I finally hit the last flat stretch I let it rip. I crossed the finish line, hit my watch at 2:46:01, and stopped. Oh my god, did that hurt. I was given water and a space blanket, then grabbed by a volunteer to be told that I was chosen for a random drug test. I got to wait to see Carolyn finish, as I was pretty certain she would break 8, and she delivered. 7:58 and change!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">In hindsight, I have realized there is more than one way to take some risks in this race. I chose to risk going too fast, and the payback was a big slowdown and lost of suffering. Harder for me is to risk going too slow and run a fast and more inspiring second half. Patience. I must practice patience.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-35723675444410140582010-11-09T11:59:00.000-08:002010-11-09T11:59:24.295-08:00Las Navas de la Concepcion......also known as Francisco Martin's hometown. Francisco is the founder of Strands.com and has supported my travel for running for two years now. When I learned I was going to Gibraltar, I decided to add some travel in Spain. I asked the native Spaniard for advice and tips on traveling in his country. He not only gave me his list of favorite restaurants in the cities I plan on seeing, but also extended an invitation to visit his hometown of Las Navas de la Concepcion. He told me that if I decided to go he would let 'them' know and all would be taken care of.<br />
<br />
The drive from Madrid went well, traffic not too bad at all. The last 25 or so kilometers into the village let me know that it was probably not a place people come to and from with much frequency. The road was in excellent shape, but it was very twisty and hilly. Completely rural, agricultural, and quiet. We saw a multitude of oak and thought perhaps it was Pin Oak. However as we got close to Las Navas, we spotted a few trees that looked like they had red bark, like a madrone. But then we realized that it was stripped of its bark, and the trees were <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quercus_suber">cork oak</a>. It appeared to be quite a business in the area.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyf1HSEv7ami3AfsOXnF3bi1FvU5n_kzgS1unZJPG2x7gBcqtthvDzfEJw3Fi7ltxDTjAxwv6DqXaNlp0hfYHCwfrWhe1i1aMROIw0sq42-12bbqTA6Sp-orFkThLJc67M_U/s1600/DSCN1486.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyf1HSEv7ami3AfsOXnF3bi1FvU5n_kzgS1unZJPG2x7gBcqtthvDzfEJw3Fi7ltxDTjAxwv6DqXaNlp0hfYHCwfrWhe1i1aMROIw0sq42-12bbqTA6Sp-orFkThLJc67M_U/s320/DSCN1486.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Cork Oak that has been harvested recently</i><br />
</div><br />
We arrived<span style="font-size: small;"> to Las Navas about 6 hours after leaving Madrid, and found Plaza de la Constitucion, 2, with little difficulty. </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91c1-qvQJjC8EyS-1WcbmI5GF_clzXvOgF_EI0y_pHs_19jGP8qje-HU45rba5FMZwC2zUo9GlmOd-JLP5uZawgjm51NzEWBPGa3QHScQsBLnWvVyodJrARQqOnIUt4xHD98/s1600/DSCN1451.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91c1-qvQJjC8EyS-1WcbmI5GF_clzXvOgF_EI0y_pHs_19jGP8qje-HU45rba5FMZwC2zUo9GlmOd-JLP5uZawgjm51NzEWBPGa3QHScQsBLnWvVyodJrARQqOnIUt4xHD98/s320/DSCN1451.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"> <br />
</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Plaza de la Constitucion</span></i><span style="font-size: small;"> <br />
</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">As instructed, I introduced myself to the inhabitants (it was actually a super market) one of whom is Francisco's uncle, and one his cousin. With much hand gesturing and broken English and Spanish, it was all worked out who was who. His cousin Jose rounded up the manager of a small inn across the plaza, and we were soon given each a large room. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZplLboFABFz3zUFYBAX8PED6Y_vHHMmBwv9mRzOJlBg4AWk9rQptp4uTE4Z9DnBaiFxwxztMHLH5aYbLGTw-2Hc4jFEqDn4kI6_f5Vb47D96oasqqHVtFj8PIjkE_Sqa9zeA/s1600/gibraltar+196.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZplLboFABFz3zUFYBAX8PED6Y_vHHMmBwv9mRzOJlBg4AWk9rQptp4uTE4Z9DnBaiFxwxztMHLH5aYbLGTw-2Hc4jFEqDn4kI6_f5Vb47D96oasqqHVtFj8PIjkE_Sqa9zeA/s320/gibraltar+196.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Francisco's Tio</i> <br />
</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Then we took a small stroll about the village, enjoying the ability of the children to play unsupervised, dogs to be unleashed, and to amble down the middle of the narrow streets without having to dodge cars. <br />
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">At 8:00 the bar below our room was sounding lively, and we joined them there. I was quickly introduced to a number of regulars, most importantly, to Antonio, the mayor of the village. One young man, David, spoke enough English to make communication more possible. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaipUBsckFPnHWhrCMqQ6WR2uvcZ0E8QnBjG5RbFdSIc4KD1nN6lB4_YNpRmToUCpjPJ_5SWwJuzscdszaCsmEaNGeE8Lnj0sz8SZ5jbE16FNe5xHcIFsXgAHRz4vOqbfXOU/s1600/DSCN1469.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaipUBsckFPnHWhrCMqQ6WR2uvcZ0E8QnBjG5RbFdSIc4KD1nN6lB4_YNpRmToUCpjPJ_5SWwJuzscdszaCsmEaNGeE8Lnj0sz8SZ5jbE16FNe5xHcIFsXgAHRz4vOqbfXOU/s320/DSCN1469.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>I don't recall everyone's name, but the boy is Antonio Jr., my father Charles is next, and Antonio the mayor on my left, followed by Jose (Franciso's cousin) and another regular who wondered about my pace and times for races, so he had some running knowledge. </i><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">We took and posed for numerous pictures, then retired to the dining, where the Mayor Antonio presented my father and me with a bounty of gifts - beautiful walking cane made in Las Navas, a T-shirt with the town name, a pin with the town crest, two key chains, and 3 bottles of local wine. </span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51PDFPLUaoEf8wqefQZfWjGDUCHqM6AyO39uwtBe1hpi6zMvruKBJ5LQ6zPEXQMMwrBuU6Vn2hEdiwThzsZo3SSudkb6k1_5vaMK3xEpaR6m21CRAe6quUumkQQKe-kkxY5I/s1600/walkingstick.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51PDFPLUaoEf8wqefQZfWjGDUCHqM6AyO39uwtBe1hpi6zMvruKBJ5LQ6zPEXQMMwrBuU6Vn2hEdiwThzsZo3SSudkb6k1_5vaMK3xEpaR6m21CRAe6quUumkQQKe-kkxY5I/s320/walkingstick.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Walking stick</i></div><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Jose, Antonio, Antonio Jr., David, and I were then served plates of cheese, ham, salami, pork cutlets, rabbit, and a small ham sandwich by our hostess, Rosa. We enjoyed a very nice glass of wine and some beer as well. </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Excellent pork cutlets</i> </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Warm ham sandwich</i> </div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <i>Our hostess, Rosa</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-size: small;">We all tried to learn something about each other. Jose's father has owned a supermarket here for over 30 years, and his father before him as well. Antonio enjoys hunting. David is a musician, and attributes his ability to speak some English to his singing, as he has learned many English songs. Antonio Jr. plays futbol. Most of the kids go to University after primary school, some return, some don't. It is very close knit and most people are related to someone here. The main source of income is usually associated with agriculture of any kind. The two plazas in town were lined with orange trees, and the olive industry is very large, as is the cork industry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">When we were nearly finished eating, the local doctor and his nurse Lola came in and they too wanted to pose in a picture with me. The group then discussed and asked us if we would like to have breakfast and if so what time. They said they would have it for us at 9:30 a.m. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Next morning I went out for an easy run. It was so pleasant, so secluded and quiet but for the sounds of people walking to work, children going to school, roosters crowing. I meandered through the small town, and out a country road or two, passed some men laying bricks the traditional way, on a wall surrounding a cemetery. Ever since arriving in Spain I have been struck by the number of people who labor manually. There seems to be a lot less automation and a lot more sweat, which I find inspiring.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">On to Gibraltar!</span><pre wrap=""><span style="font-size: small;">
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-28798684705882391252010-11-03T11:57:00.000-07:002010-11-03T11:57:14.119-07:00Madrid!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8Nzwi525iBRSvX_uoOBtPuVJkn2DYONTwOeMpPKo4Diwcy06rfTsEJRAzZR05SDRk0dLaUNEn6s_b1hlIaH5v_WcCI6a6lApgkIiPQMbA_eZDwAJRpD2FLSLfD-oJbhvRN0/s1600/spain+and+maria+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8Nzwi525iBRSvX_uoOBtPuVJkn2DYONTwOeMpPKo4Diwcy06rfTsEJRAzZR05SDRk0dLaUNEn6s_b1hlIaH5v_WcCI6a6lApgkIiPQMbA_eZDwAJRpD2FLSLfD-oJbhvRN0/s320/spain+and+maria+035.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Dad and I made it to Spain, after nearly missing our flight from Newark (always always always check the departure gate on the boards, NOT your boarding pass). We rented a car, and I went for the GPS option. What a wonderful invention! I only got off course a couple of times, but the lady inside the GPS always got me back on track. After trying to nap, and failing, I got out for a jog/walk. Madrid is not terribly busy, not too hard to be around in. After that we walked to the Prado - there is an Renoir exhibit there right now, and it did not disappoint.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLpH91B-ebnFtz2ZQ2kbbm6spgcYVbPuslLJXnpOKeyfIMpFU6eUKVXQqMvmHfj8eb3cedMoleH1Ok0mrTHXVS1zXfIoVy7V0QQ35LrJ0OwX-tWJAAWD0yDJgWgimkPSqUUo/s1600/spain+and+maria+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLpH91B-ebnFtz2ZQ2kbbm6spgcYVbPuslLJXnpOKeyfIMpFU6eUKVXQqMvmHfj8eb3cedMoleH1Ok0mrTHXVS1zXfIoVy7V0QQ35LrJ0OwX-tWJAAWD0yDJgWgimkPSqUUo/s320/spain+and+maria+041.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> La museo de Prado</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">After the musuem we strolled to the Plaza Mayor - every city should have one!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">La Plaza Mayor </div><br />
We had dinner reservations at a restaurant suggested to me by my friend and Strands sponsor, Francisco, and the early seating was 9:00. Being completely out of touch with west coast time, it didn't really matter when we ate, as long we did sometime. The food was tasty, the setting very old, and the wait staff very proper and kind. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Those support timbers were huge! </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Very good bread and wine </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">A most excellent Spanish cheese </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Lamb chops served on french fries was a yummy dinner! </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Dad's Spanish tortilla - which is potatoes and eggs.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">That ended day 1. I was up until midnight, and practically passed out trying to blog, so left it until now. I slept for 9 hours.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-91610252363371955622010-11-01T16:26:00.000-07:002010-11-01T16:26:46.224-07:00Twin Cities MarathonThis was a day to remember. Good workouts, good rest, good health - and I had never run sub 2:46 here, but thought if I was ever going to, this was the day. I was up at 4:30 a.m., anxious to get ready for the race. I was excited and not at all nervous, but felt just a tiny bit of dread due to the pain I knew I was about to take on. <br />
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I caught the bus at 6:15, and sat with Susan Lokken. We chatted about fitness, readiness, goals, and expectations. We both wanted the Olympic Trials Qualifier, first and foremost. Anything else was icing on the cake. She had run in the low 2:40's here and was a multiple USATF Master's champion here.<br />
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The invited runners were dropped off at our holding ground - a church very close to the start line. I sat quietly with 100k Teammate Michael Wardian, and Strands friend, Mike Reneau. We stayed mellow, and at about 7:15, Wardian and I went out for a warm up. Everything felt great. Legs had energy and the temperature was cool, but not too cold. It was dry and calm. Eventually we all had to be out of the church, so I decided on my final attire - singlet with sleeves and gloves, but didn't need any other warm clothes. <br />
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I ran a number of strides, trying to keep the heart rate up for the start, and finally at 8:00, we were off! I knew what heart rate I could maintain for the duration (173) and hoped that the pace would fall in line with a sub-2:46. Many women went out ahead of me, but I stayed calm, my legs feeling a bit of a shock after standing at the start line for a couple of minutes. <br />
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Mile 1 came, and I hit my watch - 6:16. I thought that was okay, not exciting, but okay. A little downhill now, and then an up, and I looked at my watch - it still said 6:16. Oh good grief - I had hit the stop button instead of the lap button. Great. Now I wouldn't know my overall time. Should I start it at the next mile? Funny how the brain just stops working when running hard. I hit 'start' again, and relied on the overall pace on my beloved Garmin. From past experience (see my <a href="http://runningmegleg.blogspot.com/2010/03/napa-valley-marathon.html">Napa Marathon</a> report) I knew that to run 6:20 pace, I would have to average 6:16 on the Garmin. So, I continued to hit the lap button for my mile splits, and kept my eye on the overall pace. Miles 3 and 4 went by in 6:06 and 5:49, and mile 5 in 6:31. My heart rate was around 171, and I wanted to be a little careful not to get to 173 too soon. <br />
<br />
I was soon running with a very nice group of women, all with a sub-2:46 on their minds. It was a great dynamic. Ruth Perkins, a young gal from Washington, seemed to be in control, suggesting different runners take the lead. Conversation was limited, but at one point she asked if any of us had kids. No one answered for a bit, and I said "I have a 24 year old". The gal next to me - yeah, you guessed it - said "I'm 24!" <br />
<br />
We motored on, hitting the next miles in 6:07, 6:14, 6:16, 6:02. Heart rate hung in at about 170, 171. I was feeling great and having a blast. I was getting my bottles at the aid station, and making sure I got a good deal of the fluids down before I tossed it. <br />
<br />
We closed in on Susan Lokken and her running companion at about mile 11. Our now bigger pack worked on for another couple miles - 6:04, 6:14, 6:13 - and went through the half at 1:21. This is right where I knew I had to be to even have a chance, so I was stoked, as I was not dying yet. Mile 14 we encountered a gentle climb, and I let the pack get away. My next few miles, a bit more solitary, with the pack just out of reach, were 6:18, 6:14, 6:17. The best part, was that my average was still around 6:12. I just need to maintain that pace to mile 20, and then not let it get about 6:16 for the last 6.<br />
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Mile 17 was 6:06 - so hanging in there, but starting to feel a bit rough. I passed a woman who was reduced to a walk. She tried to run again, but didn't have it. Mile 18 was 6:37, and I missed 19, but for the next 2 miles I averaged 6:19. As I crossed the Mississippi River, I was feeling a bit like toast, but either I got a second wind of my own, or there was an actual tail wind and I felt my legs revive.<br />
<br />
The clock at mile 20 said "2:05" and some change. Aye aye aye. I knew I could but it would be close. I had to run a sub 41 minute 10k, after 20 miles at 6:12 pace, with the uphill challenges. Surprisingly, I had some wheels for the flat sections, and fairly clawed at the air on all the climbs. Ahead I could see Susan Lokken, and another woman, and thought that I may not catch them, but I might as well try. Miles 21 was 6:42 and miles 22 and 23 I averaged 6:32, mile 24 had a bit of flat and slight down, so I pulled out a 6:24. My pace had been slowly inching up, and at mile 24 was now 6:16. I could not afford to let it go up anymore. Mile 25 was 6:20, and my average held. Running pretty much blind by now, I flailed to the top of the last hill, and with an alarming sense of jarring, jolted my way down to the final stretch. I finally saw the finish line, and heard the announcer proclaiming Susan Lokken as USATF Masters Champion. When I was finally close enough to see the clock, it said 2:45:11. Depth perception on a good day is challenging, and I just didn't know how many seconds away I was from that clock, so I kicked in my 200 meter sprint mode and made it over the line in 2:45:46.<br />
<br />
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What a great feeling. I was so elated, and coach Bob was there at the finish to congratulate me. I was third Master, as Susan had passed the number 2 woman just at the end. <div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-37139758085257049842010-11-01T15:02:00.000-07:002010-11-01T15:02:39.053-07:00McKenzie River 50kThree short weeks after Where's Waldo, I found myself around a campfire near the start line for the McKenzie River Trail 50k. It was the night before the race and it was fun exchanging the normal jibes, but the fun story was the description of my latest bodily assault - the discovery of a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diphyllobothrium">fish tapeworm</a>. Details are rather unsavory, so I will withhold specifics unless asked about. It was indeed from eating raw or undercooked fish, most likely (in my mind) from salmon. Friend Tommy Atkins asked me if I had named it, to which I replied "no, but my mom thinks I should". After some moments of silence Dan "Tapeworm" Olmstead said "I think you should name it Dan-O". And thus, my tapeworm was christened Dan-O.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PyDNLRy7ZY0N3u8o3xM63cSc1irEWG7l5BPM1n53lCrx7ePv-6LcTfjJ3Po-WAVfMciUvFB4PfFZqut8bL0SmwiruAkP_F9yHvii891ee20wZTWSsvWCnAR8kz3lArd-I1o/s1600/danotheworm.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PyDNLRy7ZY0N3u8o3xM63cSc1irEWG7l5BPM1n53lCrx7ePv-6LcTfjJ3Po-WAVfMciUvFB4PfFZqut8bL0SmwiruAkP_F9yHvii891ee20wZTWSsvWCnAR8kz3lArd-I1o/s320/danotheworm.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Diphyllobothrium "Dan-O" latum</i></div><br />
<br />
I slept well enough and woke to a promising day of clear skies and mild temperatures. Holding the course record of 3:58, naturally I wanted to run at least that fast, but I didn't particularly rest up for a fast day, as I had a marathon coming up in 3 weeks that was a priority. However, I didn't want Craig to reach his goal - which was to beat me. He didn't feel as if he was in sub-4:00 shape, so it could turn out to be a good race.<br />
<br />
The start was moved this year, and an extra distance in the out and back section to make up for some course obstacles. After a good warm up we were lined up and set off on our merry way. The new start gave ample time to spread out before reaching the single track. Craig and I fell into a good pace together, and he fell in behind when we hit the trail. I was feeling pretty good and felt Craig slowly losing ground. By the time we reached Clear Lake I was fairly isolated. I could hear voices behind me and see no one ahead. I continued trying to put distance between me and the voices. Reaching the out and back section of the trail, I began seeing the early starters, and it was fun exchanging encouragements. At aid station one, I handed Tommy and gel and asked him to open it for me for when I came back through. I ran on into the extended out and back section which included a significant climb, finally seeing the lead men, including Dan-O the man, not the worm.<br />
<br />
Reaching the turn around I gratefully turned to barrel back down the hill. I soon saw Craig leading a train of runners up. He playfully bowed as did the rest of the gang, giving me a sense of "oh brother". I encountered a few women, including Denise Bourosa, and Linda Samet, all looking strong. Back at the aid station, Tommy was ready with my gel. I choked it down on my way across the bridge, encountering a great deal of runners on their way out. The next section of trail was quite sweet going in the slightly downhill direction, and I focused on a good cruising pace. After getting to the end of the out and back, I was no longer greeted by runners, and there were no footsteps from behind. I kept checking my pace on the Garmin, disappointed, as usual, at the pace it was recording. I knew the trees and turns in the trail made for poor reception and I should just forget about it. <br />
<br />
Through the cabins at Clear Lake and all the way to the west end of the lake, I ran alone, passing some cheerful early starters. Winding my way to the highway, I caught a glimpse of Win Goodbody's blue jersey, and focused on keeping ahead. I crossed the highway again, and made my way to the next aid station. The volunteers were awesome, helpful, and even opened my gel for me, as even if I am not in a frenzy I find them difficult to get into. And while I know they are so great at keeping energy levels up, I never feel like I won a prize by finally getting the contents in my mouth. <br />
<br />
I crossed the river, and hit the next technical section, feeling decent, and alone again. With the aid station locations changed a bit, as well as the start and finish, I didn't really know how close I was to a sub-4:00 hour pace. The average on the Garmin was indicating that I was far enough off even with it's stingy nature, I was pretty sure it wouldn't happen today. The race was feeling a little uneventful, until I finally reached the Trail Bridge aid station, just as William Swint was catching me. I was surprised to see April and Phil - I was pretty sure they had started the race - helping at the aid station. They both had suffered some injury early on, and turned their race into a volunteer opportunity. This was fortunate for me, as I found out later. I left the aid station with William right behind me, and found out later that Craig was less than a minute back. April told him I had been there 15 minutes ago to see if she could deflate him a bit. Not that he believed her, but it was fun, none-the-less.<br />
<br />
Mikio soon caught up to William and I, panting and exclaiming how hard he had to work to catch us. I offered the lead to William, but he declined, saying he just want to hang on as long as possible. I found myself running hard again, perhaps because I had someone pushing me, or maybe I was just having a good surge. At the next aid station, I fueled up and ran out, yelling to William and Mikio to hurry, but they did not respond. Alone again, I was getting anxious to get this over with. I was unsure but thought I had about 8 miles left. Finally at the last aid station, I caught one of the lead men, putting on a good death march. As soon as he saw me, he fell in behind. I asked him if he wanted to lead, and again, no, he just wanted to see if he could hang on. About that time, Mikio caught back up. I tried to run them both ragged, and we finally got to the last turn onto the gravel road close to the finish. I could see a climb ahead, and was pretty sure I could get out kicked by most male runners, so I knew I had to push as hard as I could from this point on. Mikio fell off pace, but my other companion answered by gradually pulling away ahead of me. Still wanting to keep ahead of Mikio, I did not let up. Cresting the small hill, I could see the finish and let my legs go as hard as they would. I crossed in 4:10 - not bad, not what I wanted time wise, but my times rarely are. It's one thing I enjoy in racing - setting the bar high. It is so rare to hit my target time, that it is super sweet when I do!<br />
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And, yes, I beat Craig - let's see what was his time? 4:19? And barely escaped being double chicked!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-80057643216782998442010-10-20T21:31:00.000-07:002010-10-20T21:31:36.625-07:00Where's Waldo 2010I wasn't planning on running Waldo this year, as I had committed to co-RDs Craig Thornley and Curt Ringstad that I would be learning the RD ropes, shadowing Curt and helping him mark the course, with the plan of me taking his place the following year. I had just finished White River 50 mile and was telling Craig what races I would enter that were in the Montrail Ultra Cup next year, when he asked if I would be interested in racing Waldo after all. I squealed on the inside, but calmly reminded him that I said I would be helping with the race, and I am a woman of my word. He pushed it a little more, and I said if he wanted me to, I would in a heart beat, and after he consulted with Curt, it was a done deal. Thus it was that I toed the line for my sixth and potentially final Where's Waldo.<br />
<br />
The evening before the race was rich with friends offering support, love, and condolences over the recent loss of my husband <a href="http://runningmegleg.blogspot.com/2010/10/brian-lance-arbogast.html">Brian</a>. I felt such gratitude, and there was no better place for me to be at that time. <br />
<br />
Race morning was clear and cool and dark. I felt pretty good, energetic, positive. I enjoyed the camaraderie and pre-race energy. Sunsweet teammates Jeff Riley, Dan Olmstead, and Lewis Taylor were all donning numbers as well. John Ticer, my pacer and crew for the day, was there for instruction. I have him my bag with bottles and gels. We got started at 5:00 am sharp, and I ran the entire first climb, for the first time ever. I was stoked to feel that good, and had Joelle's CR splits on my brain. I cruised along the Skyline trail to the Maiden Peak trail all the way down to Gold Lake aid station. I was relaxed, feeling fine, and at 1:08. That wasn't particularly grand, but the day had just begun. Maybe I was being a little too relaxed?<br />
<br />
I handed my lights to John, traded my empty bottle for a full one, and hit the trail for Fuji. I was again running sections I don't normally run, but not feeling like I was working too hard. Finally arriving at Fuji aid station up, I left my bottle with a volunteer to pick up on the way back down from summitting Fuji. My split here was also less than remarkable - 2:03 to Joelle's 1:57. But I was having fun! I got to the top, to the encouragement of Craig and Greyson, posed for a quick picture, then headed back down. Before I had gone 50 yards, here came Amy Sproston, looking very good. We encouraged each other in passing, and I focused on getting back to the Fuji aid station as quickly as possible. I met many other friends on my way down, which is one of my favorite things about this section of the race. I grabbed my waiting bottle, and hoped for a fast flight down to Mt Ray aid station. Behind me was Aaron - a friend of Amy's from the east coast, and we ran close to each other through the thick woods, steep down hills, through pothole meadow, until finally I had to take a bathroom break. I emerged from the bushes and surged the last bit to the aid station , just as Amy caught up to me. We got there at 3:22 - a far cry from Joelle's 3:12, and I realized I needed to let go of any CR obsessions and just stay focused and positive.<br />
<br />
John was there with my bottles and offering anything else I might want. As quickly as possible, Amy and I left the aid station together, and took a couple of miles to get to know each other a bit. After reaching the Bobby Lakes trail, Amy pulled away, running ups and downs equally impressively. I, however, felt a bit sucky. I starting analyzing, and yes, I had a full plate the past few months, but the real problem for me was altitude and not training on the course. I knew it was early still and to just keep my wits about me. Turning north onto the PCT, I continued ambling on, looking for the Twins aid station signs, usually WAY too soon before the actual aid station. Thankfully this year there were no signs and suddenly it appeared around a bend in the trail. The volunteers were all over me, filling bottles, handing me gels, and reporting that Amy left 3 minutes ago. That didn't sound insurmountable, but I had no idea how she was feeling. I forged on, passing more early starters (go Erin and Annie!) eyes straining for Charleton Lake. I was pushing pretty hard, thinking it must be around the next corner. I finally arrived to one of the most electrifying aid stations of all. Craig was there again, asking how I felt. "A little tired, but not too bad." I 'posed' for a quick picture, then met with John. He had my bottles ready to go. Word on the street was that Amy was only 30 seconds ahead.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGVhrAUDiQlPVisieA_MaHR9cqvi4p6qYTmvw_3Q-slKmvM-ROfHK27SYZB3tNARHYB8hN2FIzM4d6vjmWBvAMhsbIknetUEgDD6gIzM865v35rj7fcfcyWZFdnlwJ37omWY/s1600/arbogastcharlton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGVhrAUDiQlPVisieA_MaHR9cqvi4p6qYTmvw_3Q-slKmvM-ROfHK27SYZB3tNARHYB8hN2FIzM4d6vjmWBvAMhsbIknetUEgDD6gIzM865v35rj7fcfcyWZFdnlwJ37omWY/s320/arbogastcharlton.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Charleton Lake - photo by Craig Thornley</i> </div><br />
I told John I was a little tired, but somehow he got my wheels turning. Shortly after, he spotted Amy ahead. We didn't speed up, just kept the good clip going. We soon caught and passed her. "John, just so you know, I am pretty sure I have never run this section this hard." I guessed we were at a low enough altitude in this section that I wasn't suffering from lack of oxygen, so definitely took advantage. We pushed the pace all the way to the aid station at 4290 - at 8:39 pace - the fastest I had ever run this section. Having a pacer was proving to be a good move. We made it out of the aid station of couple of minutes ahead of Amy.<br />
<br />
John continued to remind me to take gels every 30 minutes, made sure I was drinking and taking salt. He would pull ahead and never let me relax. This is a long, seemingly unending section. Not so steep that it's all a hike, so many times John would break into a run, while I groaned inwardly but tried to follow suit. Occasionally I would look back, as would John, but there was no one in sight. Finally cresting to the Twin's saddle, we picked up downhill momentum all the way down to the aid station. Again, we were all business, filling bottles, bellies, and then flew out. The downhill felt good going south on the PCT, and soon I saw Victor Ballesteros ahead. He heard me coming and picked up a faster gear, dropping John and I for good. <br />
<br />
The Pacific Crest Trail was slightly uphill now until we reached the Maiden Peak aid station. Finally we were greeted by voluteers, one of which was KMTR's weather man Joseph Galbraith (fun seeing famous people!) who ran ahead with my bottles to fill them and get us ready to get out of the aid station and on our way on the final, long climb up to Maiden Peak.<br />
<br />
John led me out, and pulled me and pulled me all the way. It was quite a struggle, one of the slowest ascents I'd ever had. Still, I didn't hear anyone from behind. Finally getting near the summit, we were greeted by Hannah Shallice, who cheered and pointed us in the direction to the top. Nearly there, Aaron was on his way down. We exchanged encouraging words, and soon afterwords I heard him encourage another runner. Crap! It must be Amy gaining on me! I made it up to the top, checked in with Kelly Woodke, turned around and in about 1 minute ran into Amy on her way up! Yikes!<br />
<br />
I carefully danced my way down through the loose big gravel. We passed by Hannah and onto Leap of Faith trail. Incredibly focused, I made it through the technical sections onto the scree hill and went as fast as possible. I was barreling downhill like a woman possessed, and just above the Maiden Lake aid station was greeted by Ed and Julie, the blowing of the warning horn that we were coming. Barb Ringstad and other lovely ladies greeted us. I was so concerned about being caught by Amy that I wouldn't even let Barb hug me. I grabbed at gels, frappacinos and Gu Brew, and as we were leaving, heard the warning horn, letting me know that Amy was nearing.<br />
<br />
The slight uphill out of there about blew my wad. John said "My coach once asked me 'how bad do you want it?'" and my inside little voice said "not very bad" but as soon we hit the downhill section, my legs started to roll. I gained momentum and was able to push hard all the way to the PCT one more time. John continued to pull me along, only glancing back occasionally. I was afraid to look and asked John if he could see anyone, but he never did. Just like the 4290 section, I ran harder than I ever had in this section. I felt such relief when we reached the sign for the trail head, and turning toward the finish, cursed the head wind that always seem to be there at the end of this race. I crossed the finish line in 10:52, only 4 minutes slower than my fastest time, and a whole 29 minutes slower than Joelle's CR. <br />
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As I caught my breath and enjoyed being done, Amy finished just a few minutes behind. We had had quite a day and had given the spectators and volunteers a little excitement.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-57933119776766038882010-10-19T19:46:00.000-07:002010-10-19T19:46:21.462-07:00Brian Lance Arbogast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kFKPyZfFU4I9LMo7nKx_5ltDYGGwbTjGRGf9TNPn0omuQEv93WneR_PMreWccmw3MjQP_69ZXaWxwZ7F16CPAEjmzKMr8xMXM5rnknp2_VTexj9FiZOKdDNRoNFzVVkGfuM/s1600/brianarbogast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kFKPyZfFU4I9LMo7nKx_5ltDYGGwbTjGRGf9TNPn0omuQEv93WneR_PMreWccmw3MjQP_69ZXaWxwZ7F16CPAEjmzKMr8xMXM5rnknp2_VTexj9FiZOKdDNRoNFzVVkGfuM/s320/brianarbogast.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>April 10, 1945 — Aug. 9, 2010</strong></div>Brian Lance Arbogast died Monday, Aug. 9, after a four-year battle with brain tumors. He was 65. Brian was born on April 10, 1945, in Vancouver, Wash., to Levi Arbogast and Bonnie Smothers. He grew up in Northern California with his brother, Keith, and his sisters, Cynthia and Ronda. In 1965, he married Christine Elmendorf, with whom he had two sons, Ezra Jason and Zachary Orion. Brian and Christine later divorced.<br />
<br />
From 1965 to 1968, Brian served as a Russian translator in the U.S. Air Force. In 1974, he graduated cum laude from Southern Oregon College with a bachelor of arts degree in chemistry. Brian married Meghan Loree Canfield in 1985, with whom he had a daughter, Ruby Marie.<br />
<br />
Brian was in the field of mass spectrometry at Oregon State University for 36 years, and was a highly respected expert at the regional and national level. Brian had a true leadership position in the Agricultural Life Sciences Mass Spectrometry facility, and was the pillar of its operation. Never shy of developing analytical approaches, Brian pushed the technical boundaries, and put in extra time to tackle and solve challenges. He made significant contributions to the successes of many research programs and the careers of former students and postdoctoral researchers in the mass spectrometry facility. Brian’s dedication to providing exceptional services, in association with his outstanding knowledge of chemistry and analytical sciences, was invaluable to the facility, and resulted in many publications and millions of grant dollars awarded to the university. Taken together, Brian Arbogast demonstrated an exceptional level of competence and accomplishments in all three areas relevant to the mission of the mass spectrometry facility: research, service and education. In 2009, he was awarded the OSU Outstanding Faculty Research Assistant Award.<br />
<br />
Brian was an avid and talented trumpet player from a young age. He loved to “noodle” with jazz radio, and was the trumpet soloist for the Hilltop Big Band for many years. An enthusiastic mountain biker and runner, Brian completed several triathlons. At the age of 61, six months after his first brain surgery, he won his division in the Beaver Freezer Triathlon. He shared his interest in athletics with Meghan, and was her key support provider during her many ultramarathon races. Brian is survived by his mother and father, sisters and brother, nieces and nephews, wife and three children. He will be dearly missed by his family, colleagues and the musical and distance-running communities.<br />
<br />
Donations in his name can be made to the <a href="http://neurosurgery.ucsf.edu/index.php/support_brain_tumor_care.html">University of California San Francisco Brain Tumor Center</a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-35798435339020726932010-10-02T16:15:00.000-07:002010-10-02T16:15:44.309-07:00White River 50 MileTheresa was asking me about the upcoming 50 mile race - and after she realized it was not that crewable, and no pacers were allowed, asked "should I run it?" Thus began a very fun weekend for two girls on a bit of an adventure. I had run White River 50 Mile race twice, and had not been even a little satisfied with my performances. But this year would be different. I had been ultra running now long enough to feel like I was 'getting it', and had been running strong all year. My goals were to break 8 hours (my previous times had been in the 8:30s), feel strong throughout, and especially finish running hard. <br />
<br />
The evening was spent discussing various strategies for Theresa, who had last run 50k nearly a year ago, and whose longest run this calendar was the Boston Marathon in April. But she is strong, steady, and knows how to pace herself. For my strategy, I studied splits from the fastest times for women (hey, why not, right?) and inked them on my hand, hoping to be somewhere in the vicinity.<br />
<br />
Race morning we were up eating oatmeal and getting ourselves ready. It was crisp outside, but not too cold. At the start, it was the usual fun connecting with the ultra community, especially sometimes training partner and friend, John "Hot Newman" Ticer who's goal was to not get chicked my me. On the men's side, Tony Krupicka showed up to deflate a few other top male runners, and the women's side, Amy Sproston and Pam Smith were the folks I knew the most about. Finally shedding the warm-ups and standing at the start, RD Scott McCoubrey described the course. "The race is pretty simple. See that mountain over there (pointing high at the range to our left)? You're going to run up to the top of that and then come back. Then you'll run to the top of that mountain (pointing high at the range on our right)? Pretty straight forward." He then sent the chuckling runners off.<br />
<br />
I fell in behind Amy, not wanting to get too excited, keep in control. This first section is flat and twisty, and continued on through the beautiful thick woods to the first aid station. I grabbed a gel and a big drink of water, letting Amy and another woman, Ashley from Colorado, slip away. I was soon at the back of a train as we began the very long ascent. The train eventually became more and more condensed, and conversations flowed. I could see John in front of me, pulling ahead. I followed my urge to pass the train I was in, putting me in front for the women. I wasn't confident I would last, but I felt very good here, and felt myself gliding along, gapping one train and closing in on another and passing it as well. Pretty much alone for awhile, Ashley eventually caught me and we chatted and ran together for many more of the miles up. It was her second 50 miler, and I thought she might be in trouble when she asked if we were on the second climb yet and had not even finished the first.<br />
<br />
The lead men started to appear on their way back from the turn-around, with Tony in 2nd place. Thinking he was being followed closely, I started to say "Good job guys!" but upon seeing only Tony, stopped at "Good job Guy" at the same time he said "Good job Meghan". I was a bit embarrassed that he knew my name and I called him "Guy". I finally arrived at the turnaround, filled my bottle, grabbed a gel, and seeing John, started back down behind him. Amy was not far behind Ashley and I. I saw more and more folks I knew on the out and back, and was very excited to see that Theresa was looking good and having fun.<br />
<br />
We hit the water only aid station, I grabbed a gel and John and I scooted out. Ashley had fallen off the pace, so I was in the lead with no one challenging me at the moment. We hit the long switch back downhill section and I was enjoying the pace. I kept checking my time compared to Susannah Beck's record pace splits. I thought I must be getting close to the half way mark as I her split came and went, but it was not to be. It was an 'aha' moment for me. Fast is fast. Susannah Beck is fast. Very fast. Ah, genetics. I felt like I wouldn't even be in the same zip code if she were in the race by the time we reached the start/finish area for the beginning of the second part of the race.<br />
<br />
But it was a race, and I was keen on keeping my position, regardless of the time. The first climb after the flat section was a burner. "That was special" I yelled back to Ticer, to which he mumbled "uh-huh". I felt strong and steady, ran when it seemed faster than hiking, and made it to the next aid station with less effort than in the past. I grabbed a bit of food, filled my bottle, and got out quickly, Ticer right behind. We picked up one more in our train, Matt Simms, and continued strongly all the way to Suntop.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IxB5ED5auOwA9MmToG5I6T8DPYAd-uEPKVFdPeZoKrbl3X7CwfhiXXKQzdfwMnpV6X0my9czXLe9FNT-98U4VKbsh9W_Vx8ekiNkG59thxJYW1dFLlQB4T5LzfMSLrpeSYY/s1600/johnandme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IxB5ED5auOwA9MmToG5I6T8DPYAd-uEPKVFdPeZoKrbl3X7CwfhiXXKQzdfwMnpV6X0my9czXLe9FNT-98U4VKbsh9W_Vx8ekiNkG59thxJYW1dFLlQB4T5LzfMSLrpeSYY/s320/johnandme.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i>John Ticer and I near the summit of Suntop - photo by Glenn Tachiyama</i></div><br />
<br />
Excited to be at the final summit, I grabbed beverage and gel and hit the road. The long downhill ahead was beckoning, and I hoped to put some distance on John here. It was not to be. He caught me, and encouraged me to keep up. I was running fast, but soreness in my feet was starting to build. Not that it would have mattered as I watched John gently glide away. Dang - he was running well!<br />
<br />
My stomach was urging me to jump in the bushes but somehow I convinced it to stay together. I made it to the bottom of the 7 mile downhill, and John was no where in sight. I had glanced over my shoulder and didn't see anyone in pursuit. I filled bottles at the final aid station and set about to put my plan in place - run hard for the last 6.6 miles. I was already out for over 7 hours, so my sub 8 goal was looking bleak. But my legs did feel strong and I pushed hard. Twisting in and out, over roots, eyes stretching ahead, I tried not looking at my watch more than every 5 minutes. This proved to be more difficult that I thought, and the final miles seemed to go on FOREVER. I was pleasantly surprised to catch a glimpse of John just ahead and when I finally caught him, he was thinking the same thing - will this ever end? I went ahead of him and kept pushing with him on my heels. Each bridge we crossed seemed just like the last bridge we had crossed, like some cruel joke. At last we reached the road that would take us to the finish. "Go ahead John! Don't wait for me." But he would not leave, and continued to egg me on to the finish. As I finally picked it up, he muttered "now that's what I'm talkin' about". We crossed the finish line in 8:10. Pretty far off from my goal, but a good 20+ minutes ahead of my best time here.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYhnIIOXOyOKcQNfmVEewQfCmU1TFGKHsjnzzF20STTgWuUVGFkz34_Bqcq9KoKDAaTETFszfzv6CEKcXTsfMhIZN6fW4-SYY9OvxLezlTstDpmG9lx2z2lBFpN7bbE80MCs/s1600/johnanadmefinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYhnIIOXOyOKcQNfmVEewQfCmU1TFGKHsjnzzF20STTgWuUVGFkz34_Bqcq9KoKDAaTETFszfzv6CEKcXTsfMhIZN6fW4-SYY9OvxLezlTstDpmG9lx2z2lBFpN7bbE80MCs/s320/johnanadmefinish.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>John and I finishing - photo by John Wallace III</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Scott was there with warm congratulations, and I spent the next few whiles recovering and waiting for Theresa to finish. I thought she would be in under 10 hours, and at about 9:30 I heard John yell "It's Theresa!" We hooted and hollered her in, and I was pleased to see her Sunsweet Jersey covered in dirt and felt like I had handed her the torch for keeper of the dirty jersey. She had tumbled at least 6 times, but managed to be 7th woman and rake in $400. Pretty good for racing on a whim and somewhat "off of the couch". </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXk0YhhexuzUe2iD0sT530gdTRAmB_Fispk70Wg5ugwuFTVATzkteIddSYqQDDxZkaOpZoylec541xW-jq4UPKQraTOFm2Ez_mw3HlsLfJu-VPe7sTXA-mf7YLBAMkCW0k3I/s1600/theresafinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXk0YhhexuzUe2iD0sT530gdTRAmB_Fispk70Wg5ugwuFTVATzkteIddSYqQDDxZkaOpZoylec541xW-jq4UPKQraTOFm2Ez_mw3HlsLfJu-VPe7sTXA-mf7YLBAMkCW0k3I/s320/theresafinish.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Theresa Ridgway finishing 7th! Photo by John Wallace III</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was satisfied in many ways, but came away still wanting to break 8 hours on this course. Time to hit the gym.<i> </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-1263779430804344292010-07-04T22:46:00.000-07:002010-07-04T22:46:41.523-07:00Western States 2010Western States 2010 arrived and I was ready. Training had gone well, racing had been good, I was tapered and recovered from a cold just in time. <a href="http://ix.cs.uoregon.edu/%7Ethornley/conduct-the-juices/">Craig Thornley</a>, training partner and mentor, told me in May "just go win this thing!" I had several friends believing I could, and although no amount of anyone's wishing or predicting can make it happen, it was extremely flattering and boosted my confidence. I decided to take a risk early and try to stay with Craig from the start. His fast splits were for running 18:30, much faster than my best of 20:50, but I was ready to give it a go.<br />
<br />
Morning temps were just a bit nippy, but the forecast was for the 90's later. The sky was clear and filled with stars. I found Craig and the Jiz (<a href="http://ajwsblog.blogspot.com/2010/06/western-states-2010-race-report.html">Andy Jones-Wilkins</a>) near the start line. We greeted many of our running companions and competitors as the clock wound down, and crunched in close while Tim Twietmeyer and Gordy Ansleigh each said a few words before the horn sounded.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOXf-ls9z7GxVbmDDxILitDKykSgPFTDnAu657_SzzLuRyY0thM-pK2WEuFYDIR8KlpmnYprZ02DP9GcHhdWVFewl9L-F_ToQDFj1VoeZK-sVFZVZA-nXJOacJNZHqah25_8/s1600/craigmejiz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOXf-ls9z7GxVbmDDxILitDKykSgPFTDnAu657_SzzLuRyY0thM-pK2WEuFYDIR8KlpmnYprZ02DP9GcHhdWVFewl9L-F_ToQDFj1VoeZK-sVFZVZA-nXJOacJNZHqah25_8/s320/craigmejiz.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Craig, myself, AJW - photo by Monkey Boy</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The gun went off, and I stuck like glue to Craig. He was already running sections I would normally hike but I was committed to trying. The altitude was having it's usually affect on me, but it seemed that it wasn't so much for everyone around me. Joelle Vaught, Nikki Kimball, and Devon Crosby-Helms all glided by seemingly unaffected, while my lungs burned and legs protested. <i> </i>I hung on to Craig's pace for about 2 miles, then let him pull ahead. Reaching the final steep climb before the summit, I began to hear the haunting sound of Chris Thornley's gong, beckoning us up into the sun. He was offering a mallet to anyone who wanted a go, and I was happy to give it a go.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">At the top, I was relieved to find as my legs unfolded they weren't wrecked by my ridiculous early effort. It wasn't long before we were fumbling and sliding through the snow fields. I remained cautious, nevertheless, I took a few sliders, burning my skin in the process. The snow was very icy! As I continued pussy-footing through, Sunsweeter Alan Abbs came galloping by as if he were running on pavement. I scolded him for passing me so early. The snow and streams filling the trail continued on. Any attempts early to avoid wet feet were abandoned early, and I hoped I wouldn't end up up with blisters.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYoh0mYrUoDvOXlN2qx2VKn5XFLnOPCEIEnUb0Z49hB5mdlfXw3Nuc6ISPGtDUJjIo2sbe7kyvONp4S_KC0MJ3MrVo9AFa-RT_kmhV4rPtH_MYRNxmRuGeMQPyHnh8lzc_Ws/s1600/DSC06567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYoh0mYrUoDvOXlN2qx2VKn5XFLnOPCEIEnUb0Z49hB5mdlfXw3Nuc6ISPGtDUJjIo2sbe7kyvONp4S_KC0MJ3MrVo9AFa-RT_kmhV4rPtH_MYRNxmRuGeMQPyHnh8lzc_Ws/s320/DSC06567.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Just past the summit of Emigrant Gap - photo by Olga</i></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Reaching the beginning of the snow course, an altered route created due to the difficulty of access for the aid stations in the snow, we began running on a gravel road that was basically down hill for 3 miles. I caught and passed Alan, teasing him for going to fast. I was not in a lot of company, and there were no women around. I guessed there were 4 women ahead - Tracy Garneau, Joelle Vaught, Nikki Kimball, and Devon Crosby-Helms. At the aid station I ate a gu, took an S!Cap, and had my bottles filled with Gu Brew. No one told me my place or how far the women ahead were, so I guessed they were pretty far. We had more road now, and I could see Simon Mtuy ahead. The road went on for several miles, and even though we were lower than the original course, I still struggled, anxiously awaiting the heavier air of lower elevation. Simon maintained his distance, and we caught at least one runner before the final turn to the next aid station. I had been keeping up with Gu and S!Caps, so just refilled my bottles, and finally hit the Poppy Trail. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The trail was awesome. Relatively flat, twisty, soft, tree covered, and easy on the eyes. I was loving it. I slowly reeled in a runner or two, and was caught by a runner, who chose to stay behind and have me set the pace. Eventually we broke out of the trees into the sun, and I was surprised at how it was heating up. We headed up a long grind of chopped and chewed up trail, me leading with a train behind. I knew we were close to Duncan Canyon aid station when I saw Glenn Tachiyama taking photos. I yelled out "Hey Glenn! I'm still clean!" referring to the big mess I was last year after my face plant.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLR7Uca9hmywHTE14Vg_sELiFFnWnreqTCiOkL1FOFE3lCjmpnWTK7jccHVZabbiexGVY_OFNziY6ONFohooBLhtYBt8U7UJNSjPoAJHHEZB_G9HiD3zLuoVso6vYIAN87sM/s1600/cleansunsweet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLR7Uca9hmywHTE14Vg_sELiFFnWnreqTCiOkL1FOFE3lCjmpnWTK7jccHVZabbiexGVY_OFNziY6ONFohooBLhtYBt8U7UJNSjPoAJHHEZB_G9HiD3zLuoVso6vYIAN87sM/s320/cleansunsweet.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A Clean Me! Photo by Glenn Tachiyama</i></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Arriving at the Duncan Canyon aid station, I was happy to see Dan and Theresa. Theresa was there with the facts (I was behind Craig by about 4 minutes) and was indeed 5th woman, with Nikki and Devon not too far ahead. I shed gloves and arm warmers, filled my bottles, and headed out.<br />
<br />
Duncan Canyon can be hot, but the temperatures were still fairly mild. I wound my way along, finally hitting the downhill into the canyon. The creek at the bottom was deeper than I remember seeing it, and one runner was standing in it, unsure of how to cross. I plowed through, managing to stay upright. The cold water felt good, even if it did fill my shoes. Once on the other side, I had 2 runners behind me, content to let me set the pace. We caught another runner, and on the downhill I was patient for not very long, before I asked to go around. I floated down the rocky trail, and ran into Ian Torrence who was having difficulties. His cheerful demeanor remained, nonetheless. Another stream crossing then the long steep climb out. I introduced myself to the runner who had stayed with me since before Duncan Canyon aid station - Brad from Massachusetts. It was his first 100 miler, and he was a little worried about his knee holding up. We stayed together a bit longer, then I pulled away in a water filled trail, plowing through it without regard for the wetness. Ahead I spotted Devon, and felt as if I would be catching her soon. Finally hearing the festive sounds of Robinson Flat aid station, I ran over the snow mounds, getting off course slightly, then finding the flagging one more time, crossed the bridge into the welcoming crowds. Bev Anderson-Abbs, sidelined with a knee injury, gave me a shout out, commending me on my work thus far. I handed my bottles to the aid station folks, and had my first weigh in. 120 lbs - up 4 lbs from the day before. I attributed it to my water logged shoes and scale inconsistency, and I was feeling good enough, so they let me go. Laurie Thornley was eagerly offering to fill my bottles, and I assured her that was done. Crew member Ed Willson was ready with some chocolate milk and PB and J, plus the all important stats. He gave me all the women's splits, but I need to know where Craig was, as he was my theorhetical 'pacer'. He was 4 minutes ahead, so not gapping me further. Tracy was 22 minutes ahead, Joelle a few minutes back from her. Nikki was 4 minutes ahead, and Devon was in eyesight.<br />
<br />
I left the warmth of the supportive crowd onto the road, up several mounds of snow, trying not to waste energy pushing the pace on the soft surface. Winding up towards Little Bald Mountain, I finally caught up to Devon. She was having stomach issues, and while explaining them we followed the footsteps up a direction I didn't think made sense. But since there were footsteps, we kept going, until 3 men came running back, saying it was the wrong way. After contemplating the situation for a moment or two, we turned back and eventually found the correct way. I should have known better from the past. I started down, with a train of 4 runners behind. We ran the switch backs comfortably. At the bottom, Devon easily glided out of sight, while I tried to keep my breathing in control, still struggling with altitude. I found myself running along side Tim from Colorado, and we chatted all the way to Miller's Defeat aid station. I was updated there with only that I was breathing down Devon's neck, so assumed the other gal's had been through much earlier. The 2.7 miles into Dusty Corners eventually came to an end, into a welcoming aid station, with Dan and Theresa ready to meet my every need. I drank chocolate milk, nibbled a sandwich, and asked Theresa to fill my bandana with ice, as it was heating up. My bottles were filled with ice and Gu Brew, and I shuffled down the road.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5LoFNGhOW9OFsdZn77CoABE2Ftz712T8JEGTaudLAMR9de3AF8T-hS4t07aUJmR5KohYGeQytxXWw5fQUeSHp-CNCQy5px-toCtAiG5yR0bCY7Dkioy1lk_exoekSdCbaa0/s1600/DSC06596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5LoFNGhOW9OFsdZn77CoABE2Ftz712T8JEGTaudLAMR9de3AF8T-hS4t07aUJmR5KohYGeQytxXWw5fQUeSHp-CNCQy5px-toCtAiG5yR0bCY7Dkioy1lk_exoekSdCbaa0/s320/DSC06596.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Coming into Dusty Corners - Photo by Olga</i></div><br />
Turning onto Pucker Point Trail, I was coming into my struggle zone. I tried to relax and float, but I didn't feel very good. I took another S!Cap (I had been taking it at least once per hour) and pushed on. I was completely alone and wishing the trail would end. It was seemingly the longest section in the race. Eventually I caught and passed Chikara Omine, apparently feeling even worse than I. I heard another runner coming behind me, and hoped it wasn't a woman. It was Tim from Colorado again. He let me set the pace for quite awhile, then offered to pull for awhile. I hung on for awhile, then let him pull ahead. I was still feeling crummy, so took another S!Cap and more Gu. Eventually hitting the gravel road to Last Chance, I was able to cruise downhill into the aid station. Another weight check - 121 - high, but I told them that was my weight at Robinson Flat, that I was taking salt, and that I felt okay. Bottles and bandana filled with ice, I was once again on my way, looking forward to the next downhill section.<br />
<br />
I hit the "Precipitous" trail down to the swinging bridge at the bottom of Deadwood Canyon, not as lively as I had hoped, but no major complaints. My legs were holding up and I didn't have any major blisters or hot spots. It was heating up in the canyon, but not unbearably. There was no one within sight or hearing distance. I glanced at my watch when I reached the bridge, 12:48, and gave myself a generous 40 minutes to get up to the Devil's Thumb aid station - an incredibly long, slow, steep climb. About half way up, I heard a "Hello!", looked up, and saw Devon looking down on me. "Hey - what's up?" She was in some trouble with breathing difficulties and unable to eat or drink. When I caught up to her, I assured her the aid station folks were fix her up. She told me Nikki was just ahead, which surprised me. I hiked and jogged on up, and saw Nikki just before the top. I got there in 37 minutes, which I was content with. Once there, I weighed in - 120 - took another S!Cap and Gu, got my bottles filled, drank some coke, and ran out, encouraging Nikki to come along.<br />
<br />
Ahead of me, Simon was gently loping along with his long legs. Before the next long descent into El Dorado canyon, I moved ahead of him, and began to let myself fly with the gravity. I enjoyed it from a subjective standpoint, but I felt nauseous. I kept downing the fluids, and took more S!Caps. I felt pretty much alone, until I caught Matt Simms. We chatted briefly, and reached the bottom of the canyon about the same time. After refilling again, I began the long hike up to Michigan Bluff. Matt stayed with me about half way, and we caught and passed a few runners along the way. One runner passed me running, which was impressive in this section, but when he started vomiting while running, I wasn't as impressed. Next time I saw him was sitting in the only creek on the climb out, cooling his core. Afterward, he was back to his jogging, but seemed to have his stomach under control. I felt fairly decent now, and looked at my watch. It was nearly 3:00 now, and I had mentioned to my crew how cool it would be for me to get there by 3:00. I wasn't going to make it, but certainly the earliest I had ever been there. Finally seeing the landmark "U" tree (a tall evergreen that bifurcates from the main trunk into a "U" shape), I ran the rest of the way into Michigan Bluff. Olga was there, and asked me "what did you do to those girls?" to which I replied "they did it to themselves".<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMPar_La7uXZVNjRAFgrOBiwHotto7fiO2JPQMkHe4YeLrXgeKU9dK1wDGgsRvELJvfwbghRMsL8u2CthTX2GhKE-0IlTNR7nzbQJVsi4EqIKa6kcKFTmdlQsrnP6LNNu3gE/s1600/DSC06620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMPar_La7uXZVNjRAFgrOBiwHotto7fiO2JPQMkHe4YeLrXgeKU9dK1wDGgsRvELJvfwbghRMsL8u2CthTX2GhKE-0IlTNR7nzbQJVsi4EqIKa6kcKFTmdlQsrnP6LNNu3gE/s320/DSC06620.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Climbing out of El Dorado Canyon to Michigan Bluff - photo by Olga</i></div><br />
I weighed in again - 121. So I was maintaining a steady weight. My crew was all there now - Theresa worked on getting my bandana ready, Dan handed me the chocolate milk, I turned my nose at the sandwich and Ed wiped my legs off. I was in third place, and Craig was again, 4 minutes ahead, having stopped for a generous rest and downright pampering from his crew. Jeff Riley came out and he, Theresa, Ed, and Dan ran me up the street. The crowd was again SO enthusiastic, it carried me out.<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_419733186"></span><span id="goog_419733187"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOBaiSBgHYcpa3qMUcXGf9stkvEJToKjR_dB2vwlmOUxL4O5p-3gpTdYMwZG3j8RJ_nlQ0SDcjowdnYhDlzEBCWcPkQkMemg7GTmKZtpU-uuHuefGiTzRLouJTxy8LVD4-D4/s1600/craigthrone" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOBaiSBgHYcpa3qMUcXGf9stkvEJToKjR_dB2vwlmOUxL4O5p-3gpTdYMwZG3j8RJ_nlQ0SDcjowdnYhDlzEBCWcPkQkMemg7GTmKZtpU-uuHuefGiTzRLouJTxy8LVD4-D4/s320/craigthrone" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Craig "Lord Balls" Thornley and his Courtiers</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Once on Gorman Ranch Road, I kept running the flats and downhills, looking forward to hiking the climbs. I caught and met for the first time Justin Angle. We chatted for a bit, he not having such a great day, but he pulled ahead as we hit the trail, and vanished from sight once we hit the trail down into Volcano Canyon. Alone again I focused on soft landings, and keeping the nausea at bay best I could. Reaching Volcano Creek, I waded across the creek, foregoing my normal full submersion, as I was not unbearably hot and didn't want to take the time. <i> </i>I was soon at the bottom of Bath Road, where Ed and Theresa were waiting with good cheer and enthusiasm. Theresa stayed a few steps in front, pulling me along and not letting me get lazy. The plan for arriving at Forest Hill were to get some soup, coke, fill my bottles, get weighed in, and get going. As I arrived, I heard Nikki Kimball's name being called, and later realized that they had mistaken me for her. While I was getting my things, <a href="http://www.twitvid.com/JNF1Y">Rory Bosio</a> came running in - she was doing great in her first 100, and I was happy to see her. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">My crew was working hard on getting me focused and running again, and so we were finally running down to the California Street section. I saw many friends before we hit the trail, including Craig's crew, who encouraged me to catch him. It was so great finally having Theresa to run with. We ran pretty quick until the first uphill, and I felt like I got hit by a truck. UGH. I complained and apologized to Theresa for going so slow, and she would have none of it, telling me I was doing great. I could hear Rory behind us, and managed to hold her off, although we arrived at Cal 1 aid station at the same time. While looking over all of the food, I mentioned that I hadn't been eating much and nothing looked good, and one of the volunteers took it seriously enough to insist that I eat something. I grabbed a PB and J quarter, and nibbled. It was sticking in my mouth, and I didn't want more. And as if Brian were actually there, he said "One more bite! You have to eat if you are going to finish." I obliged, knowing he was right, and Theresa and I were on our way again. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Simon and his pacer were not far from us, and through the next 2 aid stations we exchanged leads back and forth, enjoying the camaraderie. Theresa knew I was struggling with nausea, so continued telling me stories and updating me on her life, while I silently worked on keeping my stomach together. I lamented to her that I was feeling slow, and thought I was going to have a 4 hour split to the river. When I finally did the math correctly, I realized I was off by an hour, and my demeanor immediately changed. Low three hours for me was faster than I have run this section. Close to the river, I could hear Ed yelling from the other side. We were both very excited to have made it to the river by 7:30 ish.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS0X-Dp-Bvuzeiqy5CCJqk93kcKXnGyBPNmeC9_fTiAKtojhbg30kJAJRUsx8E_NuicGI_WhL8rBJOIelFyXiO2F362DoTi1ofl0dFzcL4DTBMMhMP47zejLiRdgjaOkBR4dU/s320/IMG_1671.JPG" /><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Theresa and me at the River - photo by Gary Wang</i> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">After another weigh in, we made our way down to the boat, and Theresa and I got a ride over quickly. Again, my crew was doing their best to keep me focused and get going. I had a little potato soup, put my light on my head, put my vest on with S!Caps, a spare light and more Gu. My entourage and I headed for the Green Gate, with Simon not far ahead. Dan would break into a jog when the road wasn't so steep, and Theresa and I followed suit, but I would pull the plug when it felt too hard. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">At the Green Gate, I needed no aid, and just as Dan and I were ready to head down the trail, I spied Caren Spore right behind me. Stunned, I said "What are you doing here?" I had not seen her all day, and figured I was well ahead. Swallowing the humble pie, I looked at Dan and said "we have to go NOW!" Knowing that Caren's strength is running up every hill, and her weakness is not much momentum on the down, we hit the downhills with enthusiasm on Dan's part and fear on mine. The air was cooling and my stomach not as queasy, but not golden. Dan told me a few stories, and kept the pace honest. His natural speed and foot placement was keeping me focused. I put my feet where his just left. If he ever pulled too far ahead he eased up just a bit. He coached me on the uphills ("use your glutes!") and reminded me when it had been 30 minutes since my last Gu. I was still popping S!Caps, which would ease my nausea. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ahead I was surprised to see that in my attempts to outrun Caren, we had caught up to Joelle Vaught. I told Dan we didn't need to chase her down, but keep the steady effort. In a few minutes we caught her. She was in good spirits, but tired from the long day. We cruised by, and in short order, caught Rory. She too, was running out of gas, but we encouraged each other on. By the time I got to Auburn Lake Trails aid station I was in 2nd place, and feeling on fire. The weigh-in caused a hiccup, as I was now 123. I tried to assure the folks that yes, I had been taking S!Caps, yes, I had been peeing, and would you please let me go I just got in to 2nd place!?! The man most concerned asked if he could watch me actually take an S!Cap, he would let me go. Happy to oblige, I downed one and out we went. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now it was pretty dark, so when we caught the next runner/pacer, it wasn't clear who it was. I asked Dan "is that Craig?" and he didn't think so. We got right on their heels and when the pacer said "let us know when you want by." It was indeed Craig and pacer John Ticer. Craig was having a pretty bad patch, and I teased him when I went by with a "Let's go honey!" He cheered us on, and we kept pushing the pace, as I was still worried about Caren catching us. Brown's Bar aid station was loud, and we got out quickly, heading down the steep rocky trail to the quarry road next to the river. Once there I was surprised to find myself running the uphills and feeling pretty decent. We kept a steady effort even up the mile long rocky climb, and then the trail to highway 49. I was pretty stoked now, feeling like 2nd place was a real possibility. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">My crew and Craig's were all that I could hear and see when we came into the aid station, a mere 7 miles from the finish. Quickly in and out, Dan and I forged on. We ran fairly silently, me focused on his foot placement, and he sensing where I was and not letting the distance between us ever get too far. Approaching the descent to No Hands Bridge, Dan saw the lighted spectacle for the first time, surprised. At the aid station I was grabbing a Gu when I saw Ed and Theresa - what were they doing here? I anticipated seeing them no sooner than Robie Point. Ed said "Nikki was 5 minutes back at highway 49." Yikes! I gulped the Gu and water, and we headed across the bridge. Dan reined me in not wanting me to blow up in my attempt to put more space between us and Nikki. We had a good steady pace all the way to Robie Point, and for once it actually didn't feel that long. There were no headlights behind us, but I wasn't taking chances. We started running up the road until it got real steep, walked for a bit, then started running again, meeting Ed and Theresa who said Nikki was 4 minutes back at No Hands. </div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
I kept running and saying "I just need to get to the white bridge", and finally, there it was. I opened up my stride and cruised to the track. I hit the nice soft surface and turned on whatever after burners I had. Having no idea what my time was, I was tickled to see 19:15 as I rounded the track. The seconds were ticking, so I went hard to keep it at the 15.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4pn5zaPsSEPlry4YvuvxV7AetlHk1c-gvQjr_Pk3Za9XHL4HyAxZcx-rl3En9cnCJsGJWsw4jLM-d-gnJsPsddKa-zDOpwzA9RB94wk-Ov2I1QavG8diZhUgKF3MetA1c0A/s1600/IMGP1466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4pn5zaPsSEPlry4YvuvxV7AetlHk1c-gvQjr_Pk3Za9XHL4HyAxZcx-rl3En9cnCJsGJWsw4jLM-d-gnJsPsddKa-zDOpwzA9RB94wk-Ov2I1QavG8diZhUgKF3MetA1c0A/s320/IMGP1466.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">A rather maniacal finish - photo by Olga </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Tim Twietmeyer was working the finish line, and I'm pretty sure he had no idea what I was talking about when I told him that I like his model better than what I just ran. He was very successful racing/winning by biding his time early in the race, then picking off runners in the latter portions of the race. Even thought I did pick some off, I suffered through sections that I would rather cruise and enjoy. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVzMhA2tXVqIKivQbLg1iDUL0OKWHJFmCjp9-d-E8oOCnD778va5ers95KEnM79rgPZD8HO971y8wAc6arDZdLqD2R8idw-Ox3IRRWVAoAIMxi8Ysf6B5nFw2JkjolDBYnB08/s1600/IMGP1467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVzMhA2tXVqIKivQbLg1iDUL0OKWHJFmCjp9-d-E8oOCnD778va5ers95KEnM79rgPZD8HO971y8wAc6arDZdLqD2R8idw-Ox3IRRWVAoAIMxi8Ysf6B5nFw2JkjolDBYnB08/s320/IMGP1467.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Me telling Tim I need to run like him next time. Photo by Olga</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">As part of the hyponatremia study, my blood was sampled for sodium, and even though I had at least 25 S!Caps during the day, I was still low. I think if I had heat trained I may have not lost so much. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKCT4RzvavYUSQv5BjQQcC7qLp_Ibz0CAM7pemRGWgrckb7v0jGZDuwRYqsK4eaGuTECquQyXZQnxbRww3p_Ww2GLkWdE7pPnAbwwsmIMaceUqy1RmYzCfMqoXr-j9Gf29CM/s1600/2010-06-27_01.46.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKCT4RzvavYUSQv5BjQQcC7qLp_Ibz0CAM7pemRGWgrckb7v0jGZDuwRYqsK4eaGuTECquQyXZQnxbRww3p_Ww2GLkWdE7pPnAbwwsmIMaceUqy1RmYzCfMqoXr-j9Gf29CM/s320/2010-06-27_01.46.41.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Dan and I staying up waiting for Craig...photo by Dan's Mom!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">All in all, my best Western States ever. I feel like maybe I finally 'got it', but at 49 years old, time is running out. I will be back next year, still racing hard, and not acting my age.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-88731444331825753942010-06-15T02:00:00.000-07:002010-06-15T02:00:03.042-07:00"Dear Meghan....Take Five"This is the fifth in a series of synchroblog posts regarding the <a href="http://www.ws100.com/home.html">Western States Endurance Run (WSER)</a>.<br />
<br />
Dear Ask an Ultrarunner,<br />
<br />
I'm new to the sport and have been watching any relevant ultramarathon movie and reading every popular ultrarunning magazine article and blog that I come across. Rather than winning lots of high profile races every year, it has become clear to me that the quickest path to stardom and sponsorship is developing a top notch training gimmick. Heroic feats of endurance, competitive eating, barefoot running, and sexy, high mileage training logs are already taken. Can you recommend a gimmick for a budding young ultra star? I am confident that given an appropriate publicity stunt, I can easily handle the second requirement -- criticizing other gimmicks as such.<br />
<br />
Otto Indulgence<br />
<br />
Otto - I am confused - can you tell me why you want to be an ultra runner? For stardom and sponsorship? If you want to be a REAL star, get out there, train hard, and win some races. The media stars are stars to the uninformed masses who in reality have few aficionados in the ultra running community. Actions speak louder than words and gimmicks. <br />
<br />
Having said all that, you could wait until you're really old, like 49, and have some really good performances, then talk write a book called "Age Is Just A Number". Oh wait, maybe that is going to be MY gimmick.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75ML5sZb8KseE7WbVfvdIcGxF5AS08dFkhyphenhyphenDLICdlmFuLp-IrOPYFjcqGZ_kgrHWep1UYgyZd8g4MadkSBsNycblEnxv694NrjhaRVMOJKCps2Wrx38skK0wEL76sC9LJYWY/s1600/Old_Runner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75ML5sZb8KseE7WbVfvdIcGxF5AS08dFkhyphenhyphenDLICdlmFuLp-IrOPYFjcqGZ_kgrHWep1UYgyZd8g4MadkSBsNycblEnxv694NrjhaRVMOJKCps2Wrx38skK0wEL76sC9LJYWY/s320/Old_Runner.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Dear Ask an Ultrarunner,<br />
<br />
I recently read Douglas McChristopher's "Freedom to Run Free Like You Really Should Run." What an awesome book! In this Homeric tale, McChristopher recounts how he traveled to Chico to run in the footsteps of the Sierra Nevada Pale Feet, a reclusive group of runners descended from an ancient warrior tribe whose existence revolved around running. The Sierras don't just run, they ran backwards. They drink massive amounts of malted beverages, fuel themselves with pumpkin seeds and fashion their own "toe shoes" out of pumpkin vines. After reading McChristopher's operatic ode to running, I decided to follow the author's lead and adopt the Sierra's methods. Amazingly, ever since I started running backwards, I've been completely free of injuries. I've finished five ultras, running them all backwards and using pumpkin seeds and pumpkin pie as my only fuel. My times are slower than they used to be, but I feel better than ever! I'm wondering what you think of McChristopher's book. Have you read it? Have you tried running backwards? Any plans to attempt a backwards Western States? <br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
<br />
Ass Backwards<br />
<br />
AB,<br />
No, I haven't read it, and no I haven't tried running backwards, and no, no attempts to a backwards Western States. But your enthusiasm inspires me! So far, my age isn't slowing me down, so maybe I should take up backward running so I can finally take it down a notch. Or, better yet, maybe I'll take up <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parkour">Parkour</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Ask an Ultrarunner,<br />
<br />
I am so excited about the field this year. Seems like each year Western States has the best field ever and this year is no exception. You guys all being students of the race (and one of you the two-time defending champion) who are your top five picks for the men and women?<br />
<br />
Thanks.<br />
<br />
Jimmy The Greek<br />
<br />
Jimmy,<br />
<br />
I don't put any store into predictions, but it seems likely that the winner will come from one of the five following women and men.<br />
<br />
For women - <br />
<br />
Devon Crosby-Helms<br />
Tracy Garneau<br />
Nikki Kimball<br />
Joelle Vaught<br />
and Yours Truly <br />
<br />
For men -<br />
<br />
Hal Koerner<br />
Tsuyoshi Kaburaki<br />
Anton Krupicka<br />
Jeff Roes<br />
Jez Bragg<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://ix.cs.uoregon.edu/%7Ethornley/">Craig Thornley</a><br />
<a href="http://ajwsblog.blogspot.com/">Andy Jones-Wilkens</a> <br />
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://roguevalleyrunners.blogspot.com">Hal Koerner</a><br />
<br />
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-84949254570305533782010-05-18T02:00:00.000-07:002010-05-18T08:30:02.545-07:00"Dear Meghan..." Take FourThis is the fourth in a series of synchroblog posts regarding the <a href="http://www.ws100.com/home.html">Western States Endurance Run (WSER)</a>.<br />
<br />
Pooped Out asks: I'm a first 25% of the pack ultrarunner who prepares himself well for the one 100 miler I run each year. At least I think I prepare myself well. Everything goes well until the last 30 miles. At that time my perceived effort is huge, yet I'm barely moving. I can't run any uphills, and even on the flats I struggle. So, my question is how does one prepare for the last thirty of a hundred mile race.<br />
<br />
PO,<br />
<br />
I would need a lot more information in order to really help you, but I'll try a few different scenarios that might be leading to the problem or solution. You obviously train yourself well for the first 70 miles of the 100 miler, but what good is that? Do you do any training that remotely simulates running 30 miles on tired legs? I personally find that back to back long runs help me get ready for the last long pull of a 100 mile race. Do you continue to feed yourself appropriately from the start of the race? Getting behind in nutrition can set you up for an everlasting slog-fest late in the race. I have passed a few such victims just after No Hands Bridge. What kind of effort are you putting out early on? Have you run with a heart rate monitor? Better to start slow and stay steady. I have also been passed early in races, only to reel in the same eager beavers in the last 20-30 miles of the race. Maybe rather than focusing on the last 30 miles, you should focus on the last 100 miles.<br />
<br />
The Seed asks: I am a fairly solid 50M runner but can't seem to collect much more than yellow buckles (or, if not States, the particular race's equivalent) when I step up to the 100 mile starting line. I do have one token silver buckle but it is more of an anomaly, an outlier if you will, compared to my standard performances which, among others, include the following: 2 DNF's at AC in '98 & '99 (I mention those for The Jiz's benefit); a 28 hour at Western, wait, I mean, States in '02 where I spent 2 1/2 hours in a beach chair at Hwy 49 aid (mile 93) and it wasn't because the aid station folks were in pear-adorned monokinis serving margis either; and a 30 hour Wasatch in '08 in which I got to Brighton (mile 75) in 18 hours (you do the math on that one). Is there any hope for me to have a 100 mile performance on par with say, a 7 hour High Sierra 50M or should I stick with the "warm-up ultras," as Karl calls them, and maybe try and become a permanent member of The Jiz's crew to make sure he never DNFs (because only Sky daddy the knows the ripfest that would ensue after that).<br />
<br />
Well Seed, are you training for 100s or 50s? How many long runs at super slow pace are you getting in? Are you racing 100s by running the first 50 as hard as you run 50 milers? Rather than be part of Jiz's crew, why not be a Jiz-wannabe? Train the like Jiz, race like the Jiz. Seriously, you probably need to get a coach. Bryon Powell just assembled a very good <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2008/11/ultramarathon-coaches.html">list of coaches</a> and description of services.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4u0Ie7UUBITc51CMB_S6LE_QEztGunX9VrCFS6npFLtwHwBCucNE-lT1EmaMN2Dq_GJdB3oSlbpC3RF_7SJy6hFoIzOSdim7SgNi5luq2dNzXJ97iG2AAnELihykipGSR7j8/s1600/JonesWilkins_Andy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4u0Ie7UUBITc51CMB_S6LE_QEztGunX9VrCFS6npFLtwHwBCucNE-lT1EmaMN2Dq_GJdB3oSlbpC3RF_7SJy6hFoIzOSdim7SgNi5luq2dNzXJ97iG2AAnELihykipGSR7j8/s320/JonesWilkins_Andy.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Horatio Lovejoy asks: I win almost any race I enter. I'm young, a well established entrepreneur, drive a nice car and have a great fiancee. What else should I be doing? <br />
<br />
HL,<br />
You cannot be considered a success until you write a book. It could be titled something like "Double Cougar Endurance Man" or "Born to Stalk Cougars" or "I Don't Know About You, But I Run to Win". After that, it is time to make it into a movie. You're good looking enough to cast yourself as yourself, and the same for your fiancee. I think there are plenty of cast members in your town for a major motion picture. Finally, open up a national running store chain. With your fame you can carry your own shoe brand, have tracks named after you, and have oil portraits hanging in stranger's homes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjRgAZ4iETlpqZr6CBCmfJ5CV41remJs9CR9Jp54jPqZaWaLzTQ2ymrKyHc3n7zkWj7BuFhFUMXy7lajIE0rNAM-rR5TtGajZemvlCM85w09b69n3Kq-R2rZf_FB5pjGep3T4/s1600/selleck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjRgAZ4iETlpqZr6CBCmfJ5CV41remJs9CR9Jp54jPqZaWaLzTQ2ymrKyHc3n7zkWj7BuFhFUMXy7lajIE0rNAM-rR5TtGajZemvlCM85w09b69n3Kq-R2rZf_FB5pjGep3T4/s320/selleck.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://ix.cs.uoregon.edu/%7Ethornley/2010/05/18/ask-an-ultrarunner-4/">Craig Thornley</a><br />
<a href="http://ajwsblog.blogspot.com/2010/05/ask-ultrarunner-4.html">Andy Jones-Wilkens</a> <br />
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://roguevalleyrunners.blogspot.com/2010/05/ask-ultrarunner-4-synchroblog.html">Hal Koerner</a><br />
<br />
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-42423619811174292942010-04-20T02:00:00.000-07:002010-04-20T07:31:21.308-07:00"Dear Meghan..." Take ThreeThis is the third in a series of synchroblog posts regarding the <a href="http://www.ws100.com/home.html">Western States Endurance Run (WSER)</a>.<br />
<br />
Western States Widow asks: It’s Western States training season again. That means glimpses of my husband are becoming as rare as cougar sightings. Entire weekends are consumed with training runs. And when he isn’t running, he’s sleeping on the couch instead of pulling his weight around the house. When he’s awake, he pours over stats from previous years, reads countless running blogs, and talks incessantly about training and race strategies until my eyes go crossed. While I can appreciate his passion for the race, I have grown to resent how much it impacts our lives. What should I do?<br />
<br />
WSW,<br />
<br />
<br />
First of all, be sure to pursue your own passion. If you think you don't have time because your spouse takes all the spare time, figure out a fair way to make it happen. That will take prioritizing and dividing up responsibilities. What things around the house must be done and what can you live without? I personally gave up dusting years ago, vacuuming is not too frequent, and clean dishes are over rated. If you don't water the lawn, you don't have to mow. If there are children involved and the tag-team parenting isn't equitable, find a sitter so you can both do the things you love. Tell him that you will listen to him talk about his passion, provided you get to share yours with him. Learn to support each other. If you deny him his passion, then he will likely be resentful as well. I won't say it's about moderation, because there is nothing moderate about training and racing for 100 milers, but I will say it is about balance, respect, and fairness. <br />
<br />
<br />
Now I'll go beyond the idea of developing your own passion and ask you to entertain the idea of being part of his team. Not as a by stander, but as someone truly involved with his race and therefore his success. Learn how to be the <a href="http://ix.cs.uoregon.edu/%7Ethornley/2009/06/10/crewing-a-western-states-runner/">best crew ever</a>. When he goes on long weekend runs, try to spend at least part of the day crewing for him. It is a great way to get your kids outdoors exploring nature, getting fresh air and exercise, and learning about the environment. Remember, while as insane as the distance seems, it is fostering a healthy lifestyle.<br />
<br />
<br />
Finally, consider becoming an ultra runner yourself. Train your kids and parents to crew you. Family vacations will take on a new meaning entirely, and you might even up being faster than your spouse.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgci6tNSLafdkxHRncbpz1lr7GdFUbQQfqn6dT2gX_66JoZfVvAwu65tE2_bP0K-VoLpFHXJyj4SftB6Aip_TViI7K3nGVlkaz-auUicG4k56mqruNk82suit37iF_YwZCYKnA/s1600/bevandalan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgci6tNSLafdkxHRncbpz1lr7GdFUbQQfqn6dT2gX_66JoZfVvAwu65tE2_bP0K-VoLpFHXJyj4SftB6Aip_TViI7K3nGVlkaz-auUicG4k56mqruNk82suit37iF_YwZCYKnA/s320/bevandalan.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">The infamous Anderson-Abbs Family</span></i></div><br />
<br />
M@ asks: I’m a runner in my late thirties, returning to ultras after missing a year due to a torn calf and related injuries. I’m building up mileage for my 2nd hundred, this September, near a 2-bit Southern Oregon town known for cougar sightings and men in tights. My question has to do with core stability. Why does my "crew" have, at most, 2 or 3 pictures of me running, while our pc’s hard drive is full of photos of young, buff, shirtless, male ultra-runners with shaggy hair, dreamy eyes, and more ab muscles than I can count? Should I be doing some sit-ups or something?<br />
<br />
Matt,<br />
<br />
Recognize that your crew is busy doing their job when you come in. If they are taking pictures of you then they aren't giving you full attention and tending to your needs, which from the sounds of your so called success, you can use all the help you can get. Certainly you know the answer to your own question on core strength. The real question is how do you get started? Kelly Woodke, licensed massaje therapist extraordinaire, swears by <a href="http://www.beachbody.com/product/fitness_programs/p90x.do?code=BBHOME_CONTROL_P90X">P90X</a>, although with the rug he has on his front side, it's hard to say how effective it is at obtaining the desired 6-pack.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmA960jblnpuZ9ivgepnH-4qrtMMk4HqnwhcmutIqc5zj6ASMRODMFhyphenhyphendQQMQGv6TfsKnvU-2R3uszduEn-b2eG5UmZB0_bVZK_qkhS-O1iMnZZst2wvDLsztgelfJWjyu4Q/s1600/woodke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmA960jblnpuZ9ivgepnH-4qrtMMk4HqnwhcmutIqc5zj6ASMRODMFhyphenhyphendQQMQGv6TfsKnvU-2R3uszduEn-b2eG5UmZB0_bVZK_qkhS-O1iMnZZst2wvDLsztgelfJWjyu4Q/s320/woodke.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Kelly Roy Woodke</i></span></div><br />
<br />
Monkeyboy asks: What advice would you give for prospective parents who want to make signs to leave on the WS course such as "Dan O, the quads are evil and they must be punished. love, Mom and Dad" when doing exactly what mommy and daddy say could lead you to an extended stay in the Auburn Hospital?<br />
<br />
Monkeyboy,<br />
<br />
I would tell them they should be careful what they wish for. Besides the obvious danger, landing their son in the hospital can result in said son questioning the sanity of his parents, forbidding contact with grandchildren and from the Western States course. Perhaps more appropriate signs could be left, such as "Dan O - beware of the downhill trauma!", "Don't forget your hat!", "Are you getting your salt?", "Pace yourself!".<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uLtl9CKpV2nZK-EDoKJEf4AsbSkcxhm4IzHeCf5IiQZqigQBN3qkHH8XO7J09Rsw5ntyh-HqdGmQdOq1hAR9G5lq5jzaMVv9Oy7EVzsltkPeQVSmEjaU88anVYrnH9b_QJY/s1600/warningsign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uLtl9CKpV2nZK-EDoKJEf4AsbSkcxhm4IzHeCf5IiQZqigQBN3qkHH8XO7J09Rsw5ntyh-HqdGmQdOq1hAR9G5lq5jzaMVv9Oy7EVzsltkPeQVSmEjaU88anVYrnH9b_QJY/s320/warningsign.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
This is the third in a series of synchroblogs leading up to the 2010 WSER. Other posts include: <br />
<br />
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://ix.cs.uoregon.edu/%7Ethornley/2010/04/20/ask-an-ultrarunner-3/">Craig Thornley</a><br />
<a href="http://ajwsblog.blogspot.com/2010/04/ask-ultrarunner-3.html">Andy Jones-Wilkens</a> <br />
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://roguevalleyrunners.blogspot.com/2010/04/ask-ultrarunner-3-synchroblog.html">Hal Koerner</a><br />
<br />
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-90410960215321374172010-04-16T12:57:00.000-07:002010-04-16T13:04:26.343-07:00Mad City 100kA 100k road race is not the most appealing event for runners. The relentless pounding, the repetitive nature (most involve multiple loops) combined with an uptempo pace not usually invoked in trail running can result in a more physically painful and mentally stressful event than even a 100 mile trail race. I personally find this race to be the hardest for me to complete without having some serious off moments for miles on end. This of course begs the question - why even do it? I asked myself the same and came to the simple answer that I have yet to figure out how to race the entire distance, so I really want to analyze, adjust, and eventually have a perfect race.<br />
<br />
I am honored to be a member of <a href="http://www.usa100kteam.com/">Team USA for the World Cup 100k</a>. I had run only 3 100ks on the road to date, and have experienced some long periods of time where forward relentless motion felt particularly relentless and barely forward. Since there are 18 months between WC 2009 and WC 2010, I felt compelled to get a practice race in, and <a href="http://www.madcity100k.com/registration.php">Mad City 100k</a> fit the bill perfectly. Having it be the <a href="http://www.usatf.org/">USATF</a> National Championships added to the appeal, and I looked forward to toeing the line with top ultra runners Annette Bednosky, Krissy Moehl, and Jenny Capel among others. Race director Tim Yavacheck graciously arranged a homestay that I shared with Bev Anderson-Abbs, and we were placed in the home of one Suzie Neas, a former runner who lives vicarously through her running friends and is very involved with the race. She gave us run of her home for the weekend. We couldn't have asked for a nicer hostess.<br />
<br />
Friday afternoon, I made up 19 bottles with 8 oz of Heed, all labeled with my name and an orange ribbon for easy recognition. I labeled 9 gels in the order I wanted to consume them, alternating caffeinated with non. I filled 2 small pouches with S!Caps - one to carry and one to give to a crew member, if I could find one. My plan was to consume 2 bottles (only one the first lap), 1 gel, and 1-2 S!Caps per 10k (45-50 minutes). I found myself some help in Sam, Chad Ricklefs wife, who would have time to catch both Chad and me at the end of each loop. I had bottles for the far side aid station that would be placed on a table for me to grab as I ran by.<br />
<br />
Conditions on Saturday morning were quite good - mid 40s, clear skies, with the prediction of low 60s by midday. I warmed up a little, and was nearly ready to go to the start when Suzie Neas wanted to introduce me to her friend Suzy, who wanted to meet Bev and me. She wore a hat with ear flaps, hiding her hair, was very cute and fit, and SO exuberant to meet us. I thought 'who could be that excited to meet ultra runners?!' I made my way to the start line, and listened to Timo give out final instructions. Then he announced our starter of the 100k, <a href="http://www.suzyfavorhamilton.com/">Suzy Favor</a>. All I could think was 'good grief! I had been so looking forward to seeing her and she had just gushed over ME! I hadn't recognized her without seeing her blond locks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzxGAPT4D9DlK9h7s-8WTOF9ifo1_UngEsDeuNoxMYxhIidWItYakO65FkIrEWPeIiYsmZuOcFZ2c0AjKnIIeDobGfEYVkop4dkIlkewqpuxGRAP6Dn6epqMIN6SSqAEGYSw/s1600/suzy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzxGAPT4D9DlK9h7s-8WTOF9ifo1_UngEsDeuNoxMYxhIidWItYakO65FkIrEWPeIiYsmZuOcFZ2c0AjKnIIeDobGfEYVkop4dkIlkewqpuxGRAP6Dn6epqMIN6SSqAEGYSw/s320/suzy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Suzy Favor - Photo by <a href="http://www.joytripproject.com/">James Mills</a></span></i></div><br />
At 6:30, Suzy gave the 2 command start, and we were off. The course circled Lake Wingra and an arboretum (known as "The Arb"). To get around the entire course involved some neighborhood sidewalks, a road near a golf course, one short, gentle hill followed by a nice long downhill, a few more rollers, then a pancake flat section back to the start. Not tremendously hilly, but the hilliest road 100k I have run.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUU2Hym323yAp_6mIzB34wHII1F4Nt-QCnIIYXvCFtY7NOGuv-C_r_qKYTZbIi9pSlUb6c-y95ZbfxiJcTkE1N92wtSFs40iXv1TnD62C3kgPK-tEAEEaM_QvabDwAownfjk/s1600/DSCN1151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUU2Hym323yAp_6mIzB34wHII1F4Nt-QCnIIYXvCFtY7NOGuv-C_r_qKYTZbIi9pSlUb6c-y95ZbfxiJcTkE1N92wtSFs40iXv1TnD62C3kgPK-tEAEEaM_QvabDwAownfjk/s320/DSCN1151.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I wore my Garmin, and planned to monitor my heart rate, keeping it below 160. The pace would have to be whatever that HR produced, as I know to go above that for long is too much effort for 8 hours of running. As the lead men pulled ahead on the first couple of sharp turns, I just tried to relax and find my pace. After a couple of miles, I was in a good rhythm, HR mid 150s, pace 7:19. The hill came, and I kept everything in control, and then cruised into the Arb. Already the field was very spread out, and I was the leading female. I cruised through the rollers leading up to the far aid station, and was greeted by the volunteers who found my bottle and encouraged me through. Another roller, then the flat section to a bridge, to turn into the final section of the loop. A stiff headwind reminded me to stay calm and not get carried away by the anticipation of seeing the crowd at the start/finish area. Bev was ready for me with a gel, drink, and S!Cap for this first round, before she started her 50k race slated for 8:00. I made it through lap one in 45+ minutes, averaging 155 HR, and I felt comfortable.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYb8njrKRcmMEWGkJMDpGFdZsWGYhKxuydp0sLu2IeccFfhQuMXItz8Z3zl3H39KdZXmQ8Uh9GAW6GmSnNr9jaS3YRh-R1chdlfrXAPOdMw6RsX3FYzz6m4bNcThXGfGz3XA/s1600/downhill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYb8njrKRcmMEWGkJMDpGFdZsWGYhKxuydp0sLu2IeccFfhQuMXItz8Z3zl3H39KdZXmQ8Uh9GAW6GmSnNr9jaS3YRh-R1chdlfrXAPOdMw6RsX3FYzz6m4bNcThXGfGz3XA/s320/downhill.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Photo by <a href="http://www.joytripproject.com/">James Mills</a></i></span></div><br />
Heading out on loop two, I didn't fight the wind. I had my gel down pretty quick, tossed the package to one of the many wonderful volunteers, and focused on staying relaxed. Winding around through parks, homes, the golf course, up the hill and back down the Arb again, I took a brief moment in the bushes and hoped I wouldn't need to stop again. The far aid station was again ready to hand me my bottle, and I finally finished loop 2 in just under 46 minutes, HR average of 151. Sam was ready to help, handing me a caffeinated gel, S!Cap, and bottle.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Starting loop 3 I could see the 50k racers ahead of me, many of them donning the red caps that were part of our voluminous bag of race schwag. I eventually caught up to the mass, and had fun interacting with more racers. I was still feeling comfortable, and my overall pace for the race was 7:20. I felt fairly certain that eventually there would be some slowdown, but my HR was where I wanted it, so I didn't slow.<br />
<br />
Around at the far aid station again, I was still amongst a fairly large group of 50k runners. The aid station volunteers were a bit overwhelmed, yelling out to runners 'Water! Heed!' and I reached for my bottle still sitting on a table. As I grabbed it a volunteer shouted "No! Don't take that! That's not for you!" and I grinned and said "It's okay! It's mine!" He apologized profusely, I told him "no worries!" and glided on out. Soon I was rounding the corner to the bridge, and into the start/finish zone once more. This time Lin Gentling (team manager for the 100k) was there to run through with me. Still feeling good, I hit my split in 45 minutes. I downed the gel, and worked on the bottle. Cautiously I ran into the wind, still trying to keep in control. Same routine all the way around, and now I was starting to really feel the tail wind on the back side. The day was as beautiful as promised, and pedestrians and cyclists were out in big numbers. It was a festive atmosphere, folks high on the unseasonably good weather. I finished loop 4 in just over 46 minutes. <br />
<br />
Heading out for loop 5, I was disappointed to see Howard on the side lines in his sweats, jogging in the grass beside the course. "Hey good looking, what's going on?" I asked. In his usual modest ways, he only told me that I looked really strong, and to keep it up. <br />
<br />
I finished loop 5 in under 47 minutes, and had a 50k split of 3:49. The tiniest suggestion of struggle was starting to needle me, and I started doing math. If I was only 10 minutes slower for the 2nd half I would break my PR of 7:52. I could see my pace starting to slip, but kept a positive head on. I made loop 6 in barely under 48 and lap 7 in 49. Three loops to go, I asked Lin how far back the 2nd woman was. She wasn't able to tell me, so I just focused on keeping going and try not to fade more. My overall pace had slipped to 7:30 or so. The wind, while not stronger, was having more of an effect on me, as were the hills. But I could still stretch out on the downhills, even though my legs were losing their resiliency. My stomach was starting to reject the Heed and the gel, so I grabbed some water at a water only station (a drinking fountain at a private residence!) and felt some relief. On the back side of the loop, I ran into Lin and Howard, running toward me, and offering me encouragement. I finally finished lap 8 in 50 minutes and had logged 50 miles in 6:17.<br />
<br />
Sam told me that there were 2 women 8 to 9 minutes back. I felt a little vulnerable, but didn't want to blow up. I asked Sam to have water for me next time around, as it was starting to make me feel better. I took the gel but had little luck getting it down. My overall pace had slipped to 7:40, so I knew my PR was out of reach, but I still felt I might have the course record in hand if I could survive. At the top of the climb by the Arb, I saw Lin and Howard again, and Lin told me in no uncertain terms to stay mentally tough. For some reason, those words stayed with me as I pushed on to the finish of loop 9 in just under 52 minutes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-CRH9wBlBqG2yiWvp888_lVXmBzhvEGKqL95QYtF_BJMqNSXc1dqGCpfCGVteUeUe5sDudC81EtKiyKDQk09Fv-_szajARv8wCyKCjJWM5QS6nfynMjMU3-ED1C31EDadB3I/s1600/sam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-CRH9wBlBqG2yiWvp888_lVXmBzhvEGKqL95QYtF_BJMqNSXc1dqGCpfCGVteUeUe5sDudC81EtKiyKDQk09Fv-_szajARv8wCyKCjJWM5QS6nfynMjMU3-ED1C31EDadB3I/s320/sam.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Sam was ready with a gel and a bottle of water. She said that my closest competitor was 8 minutes back. I told her it didn't matter now, I was ready to go! She was pleased and off I went, celebrating with the volunteers all the way around shouting "it's my last lap!" My pace was far from picking up, but I wasn't slowing down. With about a mile to go, I was able to pick it up, stride out, and although my HR went up, it felt good to push the pace. I rounded the last corner and sprinted to the end, with a final loop in 51, slightly faster than loop 9. Overall time - 8:00:52 - a new course record and my first National Championship.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXbGJuHDd-DMJWms_nlfYUfMZ27ZZvOzONEg4rkgnx-3IMAlRfpfodQmuhvvELeguFnWXaIwfL6gkRysBvyJ5l2anjmL_-XMahz8zQpmI7XUrA22ZATCa2lvjbs2-R-LdbkTw/s1600/dork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXbGJuHDd-DMJWms_nlfYUfMZ27ZZvOzONEg4rkgnx-3IMAlRfpfodQmuhvvELeguFnWXaIwfL6gkRysBvyJ5l2anjmL_-XMahz8zQpmI7XUrA22ZATCa2lvjbs2-R-LdbkTw/s320/dork.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Photo by <a href="http://www.joytripproject.com/">James Mills</a></i></span></div><br />
And yes, it did hurt just a little. But I accomplished my main goal - and that was to micro manage my nutrition and respond to the symptoms of dehydration, lack of calories, lack of salt, and try to problem solve any other negative issues. I'm pretty sure I made my drink a little strong, and washing gel down with the Heed probably made too high a concentration of sugars. So, for next time, I'll plan on water with the gel. I am pleased with the overall effort for this early in the season as well. Here's to a good race in Gibraltar!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-55805044303034395942010-03-30T02:00:00.000-07:002010-03-30T12:27:47.826-07:00"Dear Meghan..." Take TwoThis is the second in a series of synchroblog posts regarding the <a href="http://www.ws100.com/home.html">Western States Endurance Run (WSER)</a>.<br />
<br />
BK asks: "How do you take care of your feet in a 100 mile race? Tape, powder, lube, socks, blister care or not, water crossings (sock/shoe changes or not). Toe paint?"<br />
<br />
BK,<br />
<br />
Some runners have their brothers tape their toes to kingdom come. Personally, I experiment with socks during training to find those that serve me well for the miles, and I suggest you do the same. Train in a couple models of shoes that work well for you. Then have at least one back up pair you can change into if you start getting a hot spot, or they get too wet for comfort. I like to change my shoes after crossing the river just for comfort. Stay on top of your sodium status, as hyponatremia can cause swelling in the feet, which will lead to increased friction in your shoes, thus the likelihood of blisters. My first WS experience included a long episode of hyponatremia, followed by heavily blistered feet, and resulted in walking most of the last 10 miles of the race. To diminish the amount of fine grit that gets in your shoes, invest in gaitors.<br />
<br />
I think the most important thing is to pay attention to the symptoms early on. If you feel a hot spot, attend to it ASAP. It isn't going to disappear by ignoring it. The aid stations are well equipped with volunteers to help you out if you don't have crew, expertise, or supplies. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdJIYDbTcanqoxGBSc0tjQPcwTflpSMsD-q6V4tBIn0-Aha_NAKQdLN3qXt-GGK_0wLgBYYmom2DPrGXFnB2NkfmXZ2aerp48H7VgRhyxyzLL42ZVLipjDjLjcF83XqrjvgI/s1600/DSCN1149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdJIYDbTcanqoxGBSc0tjQPcwTflpSMsD-q6V4tBIn0-Aha_NAKQdLN3qXt-GGK_0wLgBYYmom2DPrGXFnB2NkfmXZ2aerp48H7VgRhyxyzLL42ZVLipjDjLjcF83XqrjvgI/s320/DSCN1149.JPG" /></a></div><br />
I use toe paint to make these ugly dogs feel pretty for one day.<br />
<br />
<br />
Meghan<br />
<br />
Joe Lee asks: "I’m currently training for WS100 2010. I’m kind of weird about the whole pacers and crew thing because I prefer to run alone and I don’t have much use for a crew. I kind of want WS to be virgin territory for my first attempt at it so I’m not planing on training there. I guess my question is: How much time am I going to sacrifice by taking this meathead approach? Is it easy to get lost on this course?"<br />
<br />
<br />
Joe,<br />
<br />
You may not lose any time if you can refuel and rehydrate throughout the event with what is available at the aid stations, so at least try to have a grasp on what they provide, and know what works for you. Plan ahead for scenarios that require problem solving (blisters, hyponatremia, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, dehydration, fatigue and lack of motivation). Be prepared for running in the dark with your own back up lights. Runners have gotten off course, even if they have experienced the course before, either in training or racing, so I suggest you don't go in so blind as to not study the map. Having to be searched and rescued would be a pretty big price to pay. <br />
<blockquote><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuftE5BlzUwxNmwc9iAXBsUf_A12wtH5s3LNtE6bb84VB7dmMTVXXErixKOHW6rMtUxV52c9JwFir6HVFFfhQUrsGtMqIIasqKbJvBXMNFp1ZjZeDzJfMx8RFU6t2aWg0sb9s/s1600/thiswaylewis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuftE5BlzUwxNmwc9iAXBsUf_A12wtH5s3LNtE6bb84VB7dmMTVXXErixKOHW6rMtUxV52c9JwFir6HVFFfhQUrsGtMqIIasqKbJvBXMNFp1ZjZeDzJfMx8RFU6t2aWg0sb9s/s320/thiswaylewis.jpg" /></a></div></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;">Follow the Western States Trail</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Good luck,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Meghan</div><br />
GG to PHS Runner asks: "Do you think that riding a bicycle, in addition to downhill/heat training would be beneficial? I was thinking about doing a 100mi mountain bike race a few weeks after WS, and that the dual training might be beneficial. Of course, I don't want to break my ribs or a pinky or something like that, where it might hinder my running. But then again, I can a bike without falling down repeatedly- I mean, who can't ride a bike without falling, know what I mean? Any suggestions you have, would be appreciated."<br />
<br />
Green Gate,<br />
<br />
<br />
Get your priorities straight. Cross training is for sissies and for runners who need an excuse for poor race results mid-season. The excuses I have heard make my eyes roll ("my legs are trashed from my 30 mile bike ride", "my pinky is crooked", "it hurts to breath"). Run Western States, then train 2 weeks for the bicycle race. A 100 mile mountain bike race should be a Cream Puff if you are as talented as you say. <br />
<br />
Meghan <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPad_hyphenhyphenPe5c7CgBmKkCW9RIekPaM60a7brqF3gsyOerrxfUtvDo6kkKHeGn93KgqEU6S63EKBSytVV1giIyxMUEvd5KJ21CVsNKRqJ63USspAQLZyn4pTbnakCMb88oqvqsyQ/s1600/desoto_model_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPad_hyphenhyphenPe5c7CgBmKkCW9RIekPaM60a7brqF3gsyOerrxfUtvDo6kkKHeGn93KgqEU6S63EKBSytVV1giIyxMUEvd5KJ21CVsNKRqJ63USspAQLZyn4pTbnakCMb88oqvqsyQ/s320/desoto_model_c.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">This is the second in a series of synchroblogs leading up to the 2010 WSER. Other posts include: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://ix.cs.uoregon.edu/%7Ethornley/2010/03/30/ask-an-ultrarunner-2/">Craig Thornley</a><br />
<a href="http://ajwsblog.blogspot.com/2010/03/ws-synchroblog-ask-ultrarunner-2.html">Andy Jones-Wilkens</a> <br />
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://roguevalleyrunners.blogspot.com/2010/03/western-states-synchroblog-2.html">Hal Koerner</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-40165749638777373612010-03-27T22:11:00.000-07:002010-03-27T22:11:19.357-07:00Chuckanut 50kIn January, I had a few rare days where I was running better than <a href="http://www.teamsunsweet.com/team-biographies">Sunsweet teammate Craig Thornley</a>. At some point he claimed I would beat him at <a href="http://web.me.com/krissymoehl/Chuckanut_50k/Welcome.html">Chuckanut</a>. I begged to differ, but then embraced the idea as I found myself dropping him on more than one occasion. Granted, he did beat me in a 4 mile race in February, but I was not phased, even when he boasted a sub 4:00 50k at <a href="http://pembertontrail50k.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2010-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&updated-max=2011-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=2">Pemberton</a> one week later. He was, however, a bit shaken by my 2:46 marathon. <br />
<br />
So when Chuckanut race day arrived, we had been trash talkin' for a good amount of time. My race goals were to run faster than the current course record (4:34), run the last 6.5 miles as a hard tempo, and in the process, beat Craig. <br />
<br />
I had the good fortune of bringing my running partner and friend Erica Pohl to crew for me. She diligently wrote out each aid station time frame of arrival, figured out where to drive, where to hike, what I would need, and was really on top of things for me. <br />
<br />
The day dawned clear, calm, and chilly. When I warmed up, I ran into Susannah Beck. Claiming to be not too fit, and wondering if I had recovered from Napa, I was sure she would be up in the front. Her talent carries her far regardless of her mileage. I determined who the course record holder, Ellie Greenwood was. When the race was about to start, I gave Craig a hug, trying to bruise his already bruised ribs (biking accident), and wished him luck. <br />
<br />
The race started, and I tried to stay contained. I could see Susannah in her kilt, and Ellie, pulling ahead, and another female runner unknown to me. As we cruised onto the lightly graveled Interurban Trail. My heart rate was freakishly high. I was running with Craig at this point, telling him "that is one caffeinated heart rate". It was above my so called max, but breathing was easy. It finally came down to a reasonable level. I was trying to get to aid station 1 in 45 minutes or so, given the course description (flat) but as is often the case, flat can mean 'flat with some hills thrown in for good measure'. I kept seeing Ellie ahead, and gradually pulled away from Craig. Just before the first aid station, I met Hal Koerner and Joe Grant racing side by side at the only out and back section of the course. As I cruised in, Erica was there with a fresh bottle for me, and a gel. She said I was fifth woman. My split was 45 and change, so I felt satisfied. I went back out, and met many a runner on their way in. Then a sharp turn off the Interurban to a long, gradual, but runnable climb. <br />
<br />
Climbing is not my forte, and I also didn't want to use up my legs early on. I stayed in control, getting passed by a few guys. The trail switchbacked a number of times, and I could see Craig below. Finally he yelled up to me "How is the marathon treating your legs?" I told him "Great!". He didn't quite catch me by the time I got to the top, so I was safe for awhile. The single track was nice and runnable. I didn't do a good job remembering aid station distances, and after awhile was afraid we had missed one. I waited for Craig, mentioning my concern, but he was sure there wasn't anywhere we could have turned. We cruised into aid station 2, Erica there waiting with more gel (would you like the Mountain Huckleberry?), and we ran out together on a long slow climb. Only I was going slower. I asked Craig how my marathon was treating his legs, and he said "they're tired!" as he pulled ahead. Oh well, I thought. I may not see him again until the end.<br />
<br />
Keeping myself contained, I pulled into aid station 3 - very minimal and difficult for crew to get to. Erica said she wouldn't make it to that one. I grabbed a gel, choked it down (yummy) and continued on. Craig had a pretty good lead on me, and I couldn't see any women. Finally I reached the best part of the course - the Chuckanut Mountain Ridge trail. It was very technical - roots, sharp turns, quick ups and downs. There were views to be had, but my eyes were glued to the trail. I was in runner heaven. I focused on the trail and flew. Eventually, I could see Craig, coming closer and closer. That was new - catching him on a technical section. Oh yes, I was pleased. Finally I was on his heels. We ran together for awhile, and finally I said, "Okay Craig, let me by", to which he replied "show off!". Shortly after we popped out onto a straight trail. As I continued to pull ahead (yes, on an uphill) he asked me if the Garmin could tell me how far to the next aid station. I thought it was at mile 17 (wrong) so said "about one mile". Ahead I saw a female runner, and eventually caught and passed her. This section was all relativly smooth going. Not technical, a little muddy, a gentle climb. Then came a good bit of downhill, all the way into aid station 4. Erica was there again, and offered me a warmed up gel (is she great, or what?), a fresh bottle, and said the girls were a fair bit ahead. <br />
<br />
The next challenge was a climb called "Little Chinscraper". It was much like climbing the north face of Spencer Butte in Eugene. Very slow, ridiculously steep. Every now and then it would flatten for about 10 feet, and I jogged every flat bit to shake my legs out. I reached the top without any signs of Craig, hit a gravel road, and started the long sweet downhill. Still feeling pretty decent, knees a little sore, I was at first surprised to be passed by a woman, until I recognized Nicola Gildersleeve. She has blown past me on downhills before, and I asked her what took her so long to catch me today. She glided away, and I followed her as she turned onto a much softer trail. My knees relaxed, and I picked up the pace, thinking I could catch Nicola. The downhill was long and relentless. I hooked up with Brian Morrison for awhile, chatted briefly until he pulled ahead, and finally, made it to aid station 5. <br />
<br />
I handed Erica my water bottle, ate a gel, and prepared to meet goal number 2 - run tempo to the end. I was quite pleased to have legs left for the last 6.5 miles. The flat sections I was getting under 7 minute pace, but the fatigue was definitely noticeable on every tiny climb. Ahead I saw 3 runners, the middle one with a long pony tail. Cool - maybe I'll move up another spot! As I approached I realized pony tail was not only the wrong gender, but not even in the race. Never mind, it gave me a reason to keep going hard. With about 2 miles to go, I could see Nicola at the top end of a switch back. I pushed hard, and caught a male racer, walking. I told him "come on! run! only 2 more miles!" He replied "okay, but if I puke it's your fault!" I said that was okay, but don't expect me to stop. <br />
<br />
I could see Nicola coming closer and closer, but I was running out of real estate. I was definitely working hard, but didn't want to get in the frenzy I had experienced at Napa just to be 10 seconds faster. Nicola looked back one time just before she entered into the finishing area, beating me by 30 seconds. My time was 4:36 - pretty close to time goal, I had run hard the last 6.5, and oh yes, I beat Craig by 11 minutes. Not that it mattered. Susannah, Ellie, and relatively newbie Lia Slemons all broke the course record, Nicola and I getting close. <br />
<br />
I highly recommend this race for its beauty and organization. RD Krissy Moehl did a great job, and the post race food was awesome!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-55707054459374030592010-03-25T22:29:00.000-07:002010-03-25T22:29:05.285-07:00Napa Valley MarathonMy first attempt at qualifying for the Olympic Trials this year was Napa Valley Marathon. I chose it based on proximity to home, time of year, and speediness of course. My workouts in the previous 8 weeks had led me to believe I was close enough to ready to give it a go.<br />
<br />
The day before the race, I spoke with Mary Coordt about her plans for the race. She was training for a goal marathon some time out, and wanted to run in Napa for training. Whether or not she finished was going to be decided as she went. The following morning we warmed up a bit together and talked pace. She was thinking 6:20 to 6:25, and told me that I was going to have just 'go for it'. Her assessment of Napa compared to California International Marathon was that Cal could be easier because of the camber to the road in Napa, sharp turns and steeper climbs. <br />
<br />
Dawn broke to a beautiful, sunny, calm morning. At 7:00 am, the gun went off, and the answer to my readiness was to be slowly revealed. I wore my Garmin, set up to show me overall pace for the entire race, plus current pace, overall time, and heart rate. I stayed relaxed for the first mile, and Mary clicked right in with me. First mile - 6:32, with a heart rate a bit out of control - 189. Nerves. We picked it up a bit for a 6:17 uphill mile 2, heart rate still a little excited at 192. Finally, at mile 3 in 6:22, it settled down to 173. Physiology tests early revealed that 171-173 was pretty optimum for me for a marathon. Mile 4, a little downhill in 6:07. Mary reassured me that it all evens out over the course. I grabbed my fluids bottle at the next aid station, took in some replenishment and tossed it aside. One more small downhill in mile 5 for 6:11, then a gradual, canted, hard to run the tangent, twisty uphill for mile 6 in 6:26. I was not paying a lot of attention to each mile split, but watching the overall average pace, which about 6:18. I needed to average 6:20 to make the qualifying mark of 2:46:00. I was also aware that I was likely to run over 26.2 due to the unlikelihood of me running the tangents for the entire course, which would mean a slightly faster pace would be necessary.<br />
<br />
Mile 7 I saw Brian who had made it out on the course. It was good to see his encouraging smile. We hit that mile in 6:17, then mile 8 in 6:16. Mile 9 was 6:43. Mary commented to that with surprise, but mile 10 was 6:04, so obviously the markers were off. Running with Mary was incredibly helpful, as the field was fairly dispersed. Her companionship, support, and course knowledge were priceless. She had run and won this course many times, and she was a rock star at every aid station. We were running number 1 and 2, and had 2 bicycle escorts.<br />
<br />
Miles 11 and 12 were 6:22 and 6:23, and slightly downhill. I was still in the 6:17 - 6:18 average pace range. Mile 13 was 6:13, and I realized that the half was 1:23. I didn't give this near enough thought, like the fact that I would have to negative split to get my desired time, and that the Garmin was giving me overall pace for a bit longer due to not running exactly on the tangents. Mile 14 was 6:24, so we picked it up to a 6:13 mile.<br />
Miles 16 and 17 were slightly uphill, and in 6:25, 6:28. Mary told me that mile 19 was coming up, followed by a very long, gradual uphill. Mile 18 set us up with a 6:07, and mile 19 in 6:13. I was feeling great, in that my overall pace was still 6:18. We hit the base of the mile and started to climb. For unexplainable reasons, I felt great. We continued working together and crested the hill, hitting mile 20 in 6:22, for a total time of 2:07. I was a minute or 2 slower than I wished, and ready to test the wheels for a hard 10k. We cruised downhill into an open valley. Mary said we had 2 more miles of straight road. A red barn was far off in the distance, and it appeared to never get closer. Sometimes I struggled to keep up, and sometimes I felt Mary struggle. We managed mile 22 in 6:21. The road was quite flat, and I was breathing hard.<br />
<br />
Mile 23 came as we finally turned off the straight road. It was then that my legs said "wow - I am TIRED". Our split was 6:25, and as the road twisted with a very slight uphill, Mary began to drift away. "Come on Meghan!" she yelled. All I could do was grunt. One cyclist went with her, the other stayed with me. My pace average still said 6:19. I just needed to hold on, but the overall math wasn't looking good. My escort on wheels said the next aid station had sorbet. I was a bit taken aback. I didn't want to appear ungrateful, but my immediate inner response was "as if!". I was starting to really grunt with each stride, trying hard to hold on to pace. At the end of that mile (24) I hit a 6:33. The aid station there was very animated, shouting "Twenty four - just two more!". I was clawing at the air, squawking and squeeking. Ahead I saw Sean Meissner coming closer to me. Bummer. He was not having the day he wanted.<br />
<br />
I so badly wanted to slow down. It seemed it would be impossible to hit my time, so why try? But I knew myself well enough. If I gave up and missed the mark by a few seconds, I would be very disappointed in myself. So I kept on gasping and struggling. As I passed Sean I shouted at him to come with me, but got no response. Mile 25 was 6:33. Overall time was 2:39 and I don't know how many seconds. I would have to run 1.2 miles in less than 7 minutes. I could still see Mary at times, as the course wound through town. I didn't give up the fight, and pushed myself to the very end. As I came near the finish, I could see the clock. At first I thought it said 2:45 and some seconds. I pushed very hard and about 10 yards out I saw that it was actually 2:46. I let up slightly, and cruised in at 2:46:41.<br />
<br />
True to my nature, I was not disappointed. I ran the best I could that day, and came close enough to know that I can get the time. Everything went pretty well. I drank my drink when I could, used the course gatorade at other times. I obviously relied to heavily on the Garmin average pace rather than the actual course splits, since I averaged 6:19 for 26.35 miles. It was great have Mary to run with. <br />
<br />
I will be trying again this fall at Twin Cities Marathon. In the meantime I have 6 ultras to get through!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-60620369149978078242010-03-02T02:00:00.001-08:002010-03-02T14:19:41.052-08:00"Dear Meghan...."Below are my answers to FAQs from ultrarunners, as suggested by Craig Thornley, as the first in a series of synchroblog posts regarding the <a href="http://www.ws100.com/home.html">Western States Endurance Run (WSER)</a>. <br />
<br />
Mr CPK asks: "I know a friend who is a very good marathon runner but ended up in the hospital after his first WS due to rhabdomyolsis. I'm running my first WS this year and wondering what I need to do to keep this from happening to me?"<br />
<br />
Hey Mr. CPK,<br />
<br />
<br />
For now, I will spare you the <a href="http://ccn.aacnjournals.org/cgi/content/full/23/6/14">nitty gritty of rhabdomyolysis</a>, but will try to give you some direction on how to prepare for and deal with contributing factors that can occur when participating in a 100 mile race. For the WSER, you will be up against heat, electrolyte imbalances, and 22,970 feet of downhill to challenge the strongest of quads. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqKrxMcKXgrmzYRiMDcDwYFEI1KoE81tC_ulSB4alNqEM51xj4knlOqavUFzvIQQPRb1vRt3I2fhzCih8jEN6Dac07GppOPvIpKKknAB1saeELAwj262w_aNmQPizZA46Wsg/s1600-h/heatgear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>Heat - It can get into the low 100's in the canyons at WSER. One of the most detailed approaches that I have seen is <a href="http://www.badwater.com/training/webbonheat.html">Arthur Webb's article</a> on heat training for <a href="http://www.badwater.com/">AdventureCORPS Badwater Ultramarathon</a>. My personal approach is to train in the heat of the day, although in Oregon it isn't likely to reach more than 70 or 80 by June, so I have a plan for dealing with the 100's on race day. I wear a hat with a neck protector,and a bandanna with the a pocket to hold ice.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Once the oven comes on, I have my hand held bottles filled with ice as well as beverage to keep my hands cool, and have ice put into my bandanna at every aid station through the heat of the day. I get wet at every opportunity, particularly in the creek just past the Swinging Bridge, and I submerse completely in Volcano Creek.<br />
<br />
Electrolytes - Be sure to practice with the drink that is provided at the race. Additional salt supplementation is likely to be required to replace the salt lost in sweat. Whatever one you decide to use, practice with it in long training runs leading up to the race. Symptoms that may indicate you are low on salt are muscle cramps, nausea, and a sloshy stomach. Look for these symptoms in training, take your supplemental salt, and see if your symptoms subside. This one took me longer to get a handle on, but it was my first <a href="http://blog.mlive.com/flintjournal/runners/2007/07/a_grand_canyon_adventure_10_ho.html">R2R2R</a> I ran with Craig Thornley and Mike Scannell that helped me nail it down.<br />
<br />
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<br />
I was at mile 45, it was over 100 degrees, and I felt sick. I had been consuming lots of fluids and <a href="http://www.succeedscaps.com/main_scaps.html">S!Caps</a> every so often, although I had not experienced cramping. I proceeded to follow Craig out onto Plateau Point, but was still feeling miserable. I took another S!Cap in quick succession and within a few minutes, I felt like a new girl. The hottest, most miserable time of the day, and I had a turn around. I knew then that my first symptom is nausea, and have followed the cue since, quite successfully. Now, I have made it a habit to stay ahead of the game, beginning the S!Caps early in the run at about one per hour, and increase to one per 30 minutes, while still looking for symptoms that I may need more.<br />
<br />
Downhill running - If you are fortunate enough to have some long descents, practice starting early in the season. Build up to be being able to run 3 or 4 miles of continuous downhill, more than once in a workout. One of my most compact training runs is in <a href="http://www.cof.orst.edu/cf/">McDonald Research Forest</a> and covers a few skills that are WSER worthy - hiking, nighttime light management, downhill pounding, and technical trail running. Starting at dusk, I hike hard 4 miles up to McCulloch Peak (2000+), then turn around and run hard down. The last 1+ mile is on a very technical trail, and I run as fast as I can, practicing footing, pounding, and nighttime proprioception.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsS6R1e86uQmo8ocByidBlfm5wNgaPllALLdHRTh5MSmJzekCz3PPUJOXwehDxXKPSpY2kz_y2I9vdlR0n1ixIWVPGQKuyGKMMz2ARM46vfd8t5mqUdY8vfYIxuFdMFAjXfy4/s1600-h/jeffquad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsS6R1e86uQmo8ocByidBlfm5wNgaPllALLdHRTh5MSmJzekCz3PPUJOXwehDxXKPSpY2kz_y2I9vdlR0n1ixIWVPGQKuyGKMMz2ARM46vfd8t5mqUdY8vfYIxuFdMFAjXfy4/s320/jeffquad.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
If you are without hills, be creative - find a tall building, take the elevator to the top, and run down the stairs. Repeat. If you have no hills or tall buildings, jumping from a bench to traumatize the quads would be something. Look for some training opportunities, perhaps a 50k race with some elevation, and later a 50 miler. Partake in the <a href="http://ws100.com/training.htm">WSER Training Runs</a> if possible. On race day, stay within yourself on the downhills. Enjoy the free ride offered by the gravity, but remember that if you pound too hard early on, gravity can become your 'frenemy' and lead to a slow painful ending, perhaps before you get to the Auburn High School track.<br />
<br />
<br />
With good training, you won't need good luck! I wish you well.<br />
<br />
Meghan <br />
<br />
<br />
Chubster asks: "I run a bunch of ultras, 100 milers are my favorite. I am usually in the top five, top ten if it is super competitive. Even with all the training, I have elevated love handles. I don't mean a little elevated, I'm talking waaay higher. What can I do?"<br />
<br />
Dear Chubster,<br />
<br />
Because you are having body image issues, I assume you are female. From one female runner to another, I would ask that you reflect upon why you want to diminish further the full figure that so many female ultra runners (present company included) simply do not have. You probably actually are acknowledged as a woman, something that I rarely experience. While chafe and bounce may be your enemies, at least you are getting looks. My advise to you is to embrace your feminine body, get the best looking jog bra possible (I have a Team USA bra that is too big if you want it), and work on those abs. Besides, the extra weight on the chest may help with your down hill momentum. Am I right in assuming you are indeed a fast down hill runner?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyX2Y7lvjZgQgreox445c7tDeL9oeNi6lZkoorKSVyavTuBEFBd15VfURP7jo7Uh7SlES7-7Gsh4_o2C0O0o8OKozdFOTY_MWZl-5qnWGSWJ_xlDB0W1vLttD6Xgl_gvn6vKI/s1600-h/tannmitts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyX2Y7lvjZgQgreox445c7tDeL9oeNi6lZkoorKSVyavTuBEFBd15VfURP7jo7Uh7SlES7-7Gsh4_o2C0O0o8OKozdFOTY_MWZl-5qnWGSWJ_xlDB0W1vLttD6Xgl_gvn6vKI/s320/tannmitts.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Do you have one of these?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">If you've got it, flaunt it!</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
Meghan</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">This is the first in a series of synchroblogs leading up to the 2010 WSER. Other posts include: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://ix.cs.uoregon.edu/%7Ethornley/2010/03/02/ask-an-ultrarunner-1/">Craig Thornley</a> Ask An Ultrarunner #1<br />
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://ajwsblog.blogspot.com/2010/03/ask-ultrarunner-1.html">Andy Jones-Wilkens</a> Ask An Ultrarunner -- #1<br />
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://roguevalleyrunners.blogspot.com/2010/03/western-states-100-synchroblog.html">Hal Koerner</a> Western States 100 Synchroblog <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.strands.com/megleg" target="_blank" title="I am on Strands.com – Follow my training"><img alt="I am on Strands.com – Follow my training" border="0" src="http://www.strands.com/images/badges/us_strands_badge_04.png" title="I am on
Strands.com – Follow my training" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-65928820722070656682009-11-27T16:23:00.000-08:002009-11-27T16:23:07.783-08:00JFK 50 Mile<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>This was an exciting event for me. I have been intrigued with it for some time, and since RD Mike Spinnler is a team manager for the 100k team, I looked forward to running in his event. Having Devon there and the Ashland boys added to the excitement and helped me feel comfortable in a regionally different ultra running community.<br />
<br />
I was really rested up for this race. The easy run with Devon the day before the race gave me confidence in my 'rest'. I laid low the remainder of the day, ending with a nice dinner with Monica Ochs and Devon. I slept very little, got up at 4:00, drank coffee, ate brown rice cereal, banana, and a bottle of EFS. At 5:50 I picked up Devon for the drive from Hagerstown to the town of Boonsboro. Upon arrival I realized the impact of such a large race (1000 participants) in such a small town, as we drove in circles around the schools looking for parking. I was feeling nervous, which made me feel comfortable about the race. In the gym, I found Howard Nippert and Mike, and got to visit a bit. <br />
<br />
At 6:40 the hoards walked the half mile to the start. It was finally light, and it promised to be a beautiful day - cool, clear and calm. The race starter lined us up with about 5 minutes to go - shouting at the top of his lungs every minute "FIVE MINUTES", "FOUR MINUTES", etc. until with 1 minute left, he rang out the seconds. Finally we were off amid hoops and hollers of an excited hoard of ultra maniacs. <br />
<br />
The first part of the course is paved road, leading up a fairly long significant climb. I kept my breathing and heart rate in control, listening to the banter going on around me. Devon and I ran together, passing Annette Bednosky and Jill Perry to be the leading "fillies", and at 2.5 miles or so we hit the infamous Appalachian Trail (AT). Happy to be on dirt, I scampered along, very mindful in the mostly rocky terrain, but not mindful enough. I took a nice tumble, throwing my gel flask yonder and smacked my quad on a big rock. The man I just passed asked if I was okay, and I assured him I was between swearing, got up and got going. The course dipped and rolled and curved, and the leafless decidous forest was beautiful. We passed through the second aid station, me behind Devon. I had my bottle filled with water and added my EFS, and caught up to Devon as she was coming out of the port-a-potty. We ran out together, this time on a long stretch of paved trail. It began to climb seriously, and rather than trying to keep up, I kept myself in control, waiting for the relentless climb to end. Finally, back on trail, I started cruising, only to have one more dirt nap. The rest of the time on the trail I felt like a spaz, trying to run with some speed, trying to plan every foot plant over the technical terrain. <br />
<br />
There were several early starters at this point, and they were encouraging an inspirational, as many of them appeared to be quite senior. Devon had pulled ahead by a good measure, and only now and then could I catch a glimpse of her red hat. The last technical bit involved about a half mile of short switchbacks which were filled with cooperative, cheering early starters. Finally at the bottom, I was followed by 3 runners into the next aid station. I had a report that Devon was about 30 seconds ahead, but I wasn't in a hurry. <br />
<br />
I had my bottle filled, and finally hit the oft-described "boring" towpath. It was so pretty that I thought we must be on a wide trail leading to path, but then it became obvious that this was it. I worked on getting into a good rhythm, keeping the HR around 160, hoping to be in the 7 minute pace range. There were still plenty of early starters ahead, and I got a report that "she's just 2 minutes ahead" to "She's seven minutes ahead". I hadn't set my Garmin the way I intended, so the 'real time' pace was jumping all over the place. I wasn't taking splits, but doing math occasionally. I hoped to run 6:28, breaking the course record, so at mile 25 in 3:35 I saw that I needed to run 25 miles in under 3 hours - that was not a good sign, but I felt that I was on pace to run a good time nevertheless. At this point I started running with a local, Mark, and he and I ran together for quite awhile, pushing each other until he finally pulled away. He would never get to far from sight the remainder of the day.<br />
<br />
Nutritionally, I thought I was keeping up. I consumed one gel flask in the first half of the race, plus filling my bottle at every aid station with my EFS powder plus water. Once my gel flask was empty I started taking the Hammer gels from each aid station. Occasionally I would drink a coke or some gatorade, just to get a few more calories in. I started taking S!Caps when I felt some cramping in the hamstrings, and continued taking them every 30 minutes or so. Each aid station was manned by capable, enthusiastic volunteers. I was in and out quickly each time, but noticed that I was not given any updates on Devon's whereabouts, so figured she was having a great day. <br />
<br />
My energy and pace ebbed and flowed, but after mile 30, my HR started to drop a bit. Sometimes I would feel myself dragging, and then moments later I was rolling. Before the end of the towpath, I saw myself get closer to Mark and another runner, and before long the three of us were working together, coming out to the road at the same time. The hill ahead was 400 meters and I eased myself over it, letting Mark and the other runner get away. When I finally crested, Mark was about 100 meters ahead, and waved for me to catch up. I would have liked that, but was getting no response from my body. With 8 miles to go and 5:43 into the race, I wanted to finish in less than an hour, but my tank was running on low. The climbs were surreal, and the downhills felt like a free fall. The aid stations were plentiful, so I grabbed water and gels with 6 miles to go, and trudged onward to the next one. Before the next aid station, I felt absolutely tanked, but refused to walk. With four miles to go, I did something at the aid station I hadn't done in a race before - grabbed a handful of M and Ms and downed them followed by a sandwich cookie and some gatorade. I was starving. One young man at the aid station said "Cool! You're the second lady!" At this point I was concerned that anyone of the gals back could be starting to reel me in. I headed out, cookie crumbs and all, and very determinedly pushed on. <br />
<br />
With just over a mile to go, I turned down aid from the final aid station. I was still moving, just not fast. Ahead I could see the final turn of the race, and the volunteers said I would be able to see the finish at the end of the street. Up ahead, I could see Mark finish, and I found some reserve, pumped my arms and picked up the pace to the announcement of "Is that a young lady about to finish?" Crossing the line, I was immediately embraced by a very long time friend from my home town of Yoncalla, Oregon, whom I had not seen in 20 or so years, but made the drive from Virginia Beach to see me finish. Her daughter, my childhood friend Pam, was with her, and they were introduced to the strange world of ultra running first hand.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1xFd2Nbz2n2NZQ-qzW9m_MBCDntAeXLgWOId0hzFAzjtAlaQmzmjg7u3YZ_4svlN3K6NnMsRysCH18WOq7F9hd7okYAn41xt3ni9uZMd9pPvvReHFK9pA3cG_Tu3fsePvjk/s1600/DSCN0953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1xFd2Nbz2n2NZQ-qzW9m_MBCDntAeXLgWOId0hzFAzjtAlaQmzmjg7u3YZ_4svlN3K6NnMsRysCH18WOq7F9hd7okYAn41xt3ni9uZMd9pPvvReHFK9pA3cG_Tu3fsePvjk/s320/DSCN0953.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Me and my HS friend Pam<br />
</div><br />
I was happy to learn of Devon's new course record, and simply amazed at how fresh she was afterward.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvxIr4mGhRhzfV17oh_62gdQ5UO4zB3oN3Rz1hvPAuVq4olAMGM-a8G9l_OqSMbWecWD6dgx9w-UizWNHpUeoAP00u6yq5Lcirj1h4MD7O1yn2zi0UWm0MhGkpW8V66Jc2x4/s1600/DSCN0961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvxIr4mGhRhzfV17oh_62gdQ5UO4zB3oN3Rz1hvPAuVq4olAMGM-a8G9l_OqSMbWecWD6dgx9w-UizWNHpUeoAP00u6yq5Lcirj1h4MD7O1yn2zi0UWm0MhGkpW8V66Jc2x4/s320/DSCN0961.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Seven of the top ten ladies - including Monica Ochs (4th) and Annette Bednosky (3rd), me and Devon.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I realize that I did bonk a bit severely, but even so I am starting to pay attention to the looking glass. I am, after all, 48 years old. I don't like to think that I am slowing down, but maybe I am. I will not just roll over, but continue to hang on for dear life. And come back to JFK again and finish strong!<br />
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-80069313581617861482009-11-18T19:58:00.001-08:002009-11-18T19:58:40.147-08:00Twin Cities Marathon – 2009<style type="text/css">
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the 6<sup>th</sup> time, I returned to Minnesota for the USATF Masters Marathon Championships, which coincided this year with the Open Championships for women as well. As such, it was the only opportunity in 2009 for women to run a qualifying time for the 2009 Olympic Trials, and that meant that the field was loaded. My primary goal was to run anything 2:46 flat of better, and try to make to one more trials before my body really starts to betray me.<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I arrived on Thursday to cool, cloudy weather. I settled in, put on my running clothes and ran 9 miles on the tail end of the course. It felt good to move after being cooped up all day, and my legs felt fine. Afterwards Coach Bob and I had dinner, then I settled into my routine of sleeping and eating for the next 2 days. Kami arrived Friday night and Saturday morning she and I took our last run before the big dance.<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Up at 5:00 Sunday morning, we both had oatmeal and coffee, and dressed for cool weather. We were bussed to a church near the start of the race, and I reconnected with Mike Wardian and Susan Empy, amongst others. At 7:00, Kami and I went out to warm up. It was chilly and damp, but by race start I was warm enough to don the Strands singlet with arm warmers, gloves, and hat. I was also carrying a flask with EFS Gel that I could easily nip at without having to try and open any packets on the fly.<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Running in the masters field were Kami, Susan (last year's winner), Colleen DeRueck, Susannah Beck, and Wendy Terris. These were only the ones I knew about. The open field was quite deep. Again, I was going for time, not place, and hoped there would be a group about my fitness I could run with.<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">After the final strides, we lined up under the start banner, and with much fanfare, we were off. It's usually crazy the first mile, trying to see where your peeps are and not get carried away. I had my Garmin on and had set it up to show me my overall pace, current pace, lap time, and heart rate. Even in the first mile I checked on my pace to keep myself reined in. I could see Kami about 20 yards ahead of me, with Susan and Wendy. My first mile was 6:16, and HR was about 169. I needed to keep the HR between 169-172 to stay in control, so I was on track. I expected the group ahead of me to pull ahead, but they remained the same distance. Around a turn and up an on ramp, mile 2 came in 6:12. I was please with this, as I felt strong. Cresting a small hill, and greeted by a number of fans along the, I glided down hill past the famous tuba player as he serenaded us. A small uphill before mile 3, and I went through in 6:29. My HR was settling into the 170-172 range, and having my overall average still below 6:15 was reassuring. Mile 4 was quicker with 6:09, and as we rounded one of the many lakes, I hit mile 5 in 5:59. At this point I had my first bottle to pick up from an aid station. I grabbed it, lugged it along for awhile, chasing down the Gel I had taken. <br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I could still see the group ahead, and I was running with a couple of other women trying to qualify. It was all rather dynamic, especially with the men slowing down, speeding up, passing, drafting, and encouraging. I tossed my bottle, and hit mile 6 in 6:35. The next two miles clipped along in 6:12, and 6:18. My HR was still 169-172 range, and I was feeling pretty excited that I felt strong and like it was going to happen today. Kami and her group were still about the same distance ahead. Mile 9 came, I grabbed another bottle and did a poor job of getting much in before deciding it was too heavy to carry. It was cool, I reasoned, so I shouldn't need that much fluid. My average pace was still around 6:15, and I felt that if I could hold that to mile 20, I could manage to average 6:20 overall with the uphill sections over the last 6 miles.<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Mile 10 (6:13) had a gradual climb, and I found myself running with man trying to help me out. He led me by a half-length, and drafted up the hill. We had a 90 degree turn at the top, and I hung on through mile 11 (6:15), and then realized it was starting to feel a bit tough. This was not a good place or time to start that already. I hung on as long as I felt I could without getting into trouble, and finally, giving up on me, he pulled away. I hit mile 12 in 6:24, and it wasn't too long before we turned out of the wind and made a gentle climb to mile 13 (6:20). <br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">My average was getting slower, and at the half marathon my time was 1:22. I was pretty sure I wouldn't run 1:23 for the second half, but that never gave me cause to lessen up. I had another companion who ran beside me for another mile (6:31) before he faded. I was struggling more, and a bit perplexed, but could still see the same group in front of me. Miles 15 (6:24), 16 (6:29), 17 (6:29) were a blur, and I began looking forward to mile 18, where an old acquaintance of mine, Ross, had said he would be. About that time, I saw Susan Empy pull out of the race, with an injury. She saw me and encouraged me to “catch 'em”. Soon afterwards, Wendy started to fade from that pack, and I passed her at about mile 18 (6:37). My eyes were straining for Ross, and I never did see him (it turns out I was too fast for him!), but the thought of having someone there had kept me going that long.<br />
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<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Mile 19 (6:36) ends on an on ramp to a bridge that crosses the Mississippi River. I was feeling pretty spent, and my pace average was now at 6:19. I hoped I would still run a 2:48 – that would not seem too bad to me. Cresting the bridge and turning east, I tried to pick up the pace, and that is where I really ran into problems. My HR dropped then jumped to over 200. It seemed like pushing it was not such a good idea after all. I tried consuming the rest of the Gel, and washed it down with water from the next aid station. It didn't really help. At this point, Kami got to feeling good, and she sped out of sight. I took it all one step at a time. Mile 20 (6:33) came and my average was now 6:20. At 2:07, I thought I would still run 2:48 or so. I trudged on, and my HR continued to stay high (187-192). My last VO2 Max test maxed me at 187, but the physiologist had warned me that if it ever goes above that then it is probably due to dehydration. I wasn't making the connection at the time, but in retrospect, I can think of no other explanation. I felt like crap. My next miles were 6:41, 7:13, 7:02. About this time, Wendy caught back up, and I encouraged her on. I was working with another woman, back and forth we led each other, before she too dropped me. Mile 24 (6:50) was probably the worst. I so wanted to be done, and did not feel good. The oddest thing was that although my HR was in the 190s, I could not put effort in, and so I was not even breathing hard, making my trademark grunts I normally do. Finally, mile 25 (7:04) and I knew it was almost done. I could see the Cathedral on the left, and just kept my mind on the finish. The last 1.2 miles were in 8:20l, and when I crossed the finish line I felt absolutely flat and bummed. My time was 2:50:50, which is about 6:30 average. I can't really complain about it, but I apparently am not too old to learn lessons in this game.<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">One of the most remarkable things about this day was that it was one of my faster performances here (I have run 2:46 and 2:49) and by far the lowest I have placed. I was 10<sup>th</sup> Master and 50-something female. I find it very exciting for our sport to have so many fast women showing up. There were 24 qualifiers, with 11 of them reaching the A standard of sub-2:39. And how about that Colleen DeRueck? She was second overall in 2:32 at the age of 45. We are in the same age group, so I don't know what my problem is!<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I am definitely going to be diligent from now on in every race about staying hydrated, regardless of the weather. <br />
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-76917074033481732512009-08-27T22:10:00.000-07:002009-08-29T21:32:07.754-07:00Where's Waldo 2009As the race approached, I was feeling strong and looking forward to seeing my ultra running friends and family. My best guess was the Joelle Vaught and Bev Anderson-Abbs would be my main competitors, but some lesser known names were certainly in the mix. The pre-race meeting was carried off in the usual jocular fashion, with Craig and Alan throwing jabs at each other, Curt letting us know that pink is the only color we need to know, Richard Bolt reviewing the USATF championship, and Jessie Malman announcing the inclusion of Where's Waldo in the Montrail Ultra Cup Race Series. With all instructions and thanks to sponsors, everyone made their way to a night of pre-race fitful sleep.<br /><br />Awaking at 3:00, I mentally acknowledged the early starters, wondering if they got any sleep at all. I ate rice porridge, coffee, energy drink, and at 4:00 am, Brian and I were on the way to the start. Bright stars revealed a clear sky. At the lodge, I alternated trips to the bathroom with warm up jogging and drills in the dark, hoping I wouldn't fall before the race even started. Finally at 5:00 am, with headlamps and hand held lights, we were off.<br /><br />My goal was to keep myself from burning out too quickly. I had splits that I would like to hit, but was only going to go by heart rate, splits be what they may. The dusty climb from the start was mostly happily shared with team mate and good friend Jeff Riley. We kept a reasonable pace and good conversation much of the way. Finally cresting and getting onto single track, I let my legs carry me quickly along the trail, passing folks that I knew I would see again - Sean, Lewis, William. Daylight arrived, I turned off the lights, and worked my way to the Gold Lake aid station. Arriving in 1:07, I was ahead of my split, and told that Bev was one minute ahead. I picked up an another bottle, left my lights with Brian, ate one gel, and headed to the road. Alone on the trail, I kept my pace according to my heart rate, and was passed by Lewis, then Sean, and finally Victor. On the South Waldo trail I met early starters running in the opposite direction, and finally reaching Fuji aid station, I was pleased to be right on pace, yet staying under control. Spotting volunteer Gary Stott, I handed him both bottles, asked him if he would fill them while I summited Fuji. He gladly obliged, and I set off for the short climb to the top. Very soon I met Erik Skaggs cruising lightly down, followed not too closely by men who appeared to be working much harder than he. Near the top, Joelle was coming down, and about a minute later, Bev. It felt good to be able to run most of this climb, and the welcoming committee of Craig, Greyson and Scott, at the top was not to be surpassed. One or two photos later, I was on my way down.<br /><br />Reaching Fuji aid station again, Gary pointed out my bottles and encouraged me to catch those girls. I scooted out, feeling strong, and staying in control. The downhills I allowed the gravity to pull me quickly, the uphills I kept my heart rate in control. The trail was in excellent condition, and I arrived at the next aid station, again in good time. Brian was there, handed me a Vespa with some good encouraging words, Cindy filled my bottles, and I gave one to Brian. In the cool weather I was not needing so much fluid, and knew that one bottle would get me to the Twins aid station quite adequately. I was soon on my way, happy that my legs hadn't died early, as they had last year. I worked my way steadily up the Gold Lake trail, to Bobby Lakes trail, and finally to the PCT. Julie was monitoring this intersection, and she said Bev was 13 minutes ahead. I teased that Bev would be sorry later, and continued uphill. I felt like I wasn't going as well as 2 years ago, but not too badly. Looking at my watch, I realized I was falling off pace. Eventually I reached the "1/4 mile to the next aid station" sign, and as usual, found it to be the longest 1/4 mile ever.<br /><br />Once there, I was greeted with great fanfare from Melissa, Keah, Dennis, and others. They quickly got my needs met, and got me out of there. I was about 4 minutes slow, but still felt strong enough. I had a little trouble getting comfortable running, but stayed patient, acknowledging that I had not been above sea-level but once since Western States. I finally came up and passed Chris about where he predicted I would see him, and his presence lifted my spirits. Eventually I was running in a good groove, and arrived in Charleton to a very animated aid station. Again, Brian was there, providing sanity and grounding and good sense - making sure I took two water bottles for the longer stretches ahead. I ate a little from the aid station, and was on my way, Gaby running beside me telling me that Bev was 17 minutes ahead.<br /><br />Moving along in the next section was a bit of a struggle. Again, the elevation was probably a factor, along with running now longer than I had since Western States, but I wasn't concerned. I soon caught Victor and we chatted a bit, and I confirmed to him that we indeed were running at 5 or 6000 feet. Arriving at 4290, I made sure I ate a gel, filled both bottles, and tried to find something else that appealed. Some melon and an S!Cap, my bottles, and I was on my way. Victor had passed me again, so my eyes kept looking ahead for him. With the turns coming quickly, I was virtually alone. Finally on the long grind to the Twins summit, I heard someone behind me, and soon Sander powered by with his trademark power hike. He invited me to keep up - and I would have loved to - but before long he was out of sight. I took my trademark stumble/tumble in the dirt, and tried to brush off the evidence. In this remote section, it was quite comforting to look up and see two horse and riders volunteering for the race. They checked that I had enough water, and asked if I was okay. I replied that I was - not that I wouldn't appreciate a ride - to which they replied they could do that. I resisted the temptation, and slogged on. Near the Twins saddle, I finally caught Victor again. We cruised quickly down to the Twins aid station for the second time.<br /><br />Dennis grabbed my bottles. I downed an S!Cap, a gel, some soda and melon. I asked where Bev was, and found out she was only 7 minutes ahead! Melissa told me to stay in my game, and I said it was the only game I know, and with great support and full bottles, I lit off down the trail. Not too far ahead I could see Sander, but never closed the gap. After a long downhill stretch, the PCT flattened, then began to rise to bring me to the Maiden Peak Trail aid station, where Brian and Bob had hiked in to offer support. Brian gave me another Vespa, and told me Bev was about 3 minutes ahead. I had my filled bottles, a gel, ate more melon and soda, and started the last long climb of the day. I was 12 minutes behind my splits, but was more concerned with whether or not I could catch Bev. My eyes strainging ahead, I was able to hike and jog much of the climb, but no Bev. I wasn't feeling all that great, but not dead either. Breaking out to the open near the top, the volunteer told me "10 minutes to the top". I left my bottles, and started the grind up. Gary was on his way down and said I was reeling them in - I knew he meant Bev, but didn't know who else. Joelle had not been mentioned to me for hours, so I knew she was way out of the picture. Very near the top, I finally met Bev coming down. "I'm on your tail girl!" I said. She mumbled something in reply, and I finally summited a mere 2 minutes behind her. Tommy was recording runners at the top and provided encouragement to go after her. I wasted little time getting back to my bottles, and onto the Leap of Faith trail, looking for Bev. Faster and faster I flew to the Maiden Lake aid station. The kindly women of this aid station got me in and out as quickly as possible. Bev had left only a minute or 2 ago.<br /><br />Leaving the aid station, my legs were a bit fried for the climbs, but eventually they started to roll. Every turn in the trail I hoped to see Bev. I would not let up, even passing the urge to pee lest I end up losing to her by 30 seconds. Up and down, around turns, I finally reached the PCT again. I let it rip the best I could. Bev HAD to be there somewhere. The down hills were going well, but every flat spot was like running in sand. The Rosary Lakes in their cool beauty beckoned me to come in, but I resisted. I spotted Odell Lake, and knew I had 20 minutes to the finish. Still, I could not see Bev - I must have really scared her! Not giving up, I even imagined catching her on the final 400 meter stretch, throwing my bottles on the ground and tossing my waist pack to the side, and sprinting by her. Alas, it was not to be. As I reached the final stretch, Alan was there, did a little "Go Meghan, Go Meghan" dance and radioed in that I was on my way.<br /><br />The last stretch is about the most open section of the entire race, and usually involves running on sandy ground into the wind, but with the crowd at the finish cheering my on, I did my best to "run pretty". I crossed in 11:07 - 19 minutes slower than my best, but much better than last year. Bev had turned on her after burners and beat me by 6 minutes, for which I gave her a deserved hard time about. Joelle had completely smoked us both, breaking my record by 25 minutes, running a stellar 10:23.<br /><br />As usual, this race was supremely well run - Thank you Craig, Laurie, Curt, all the aid station captains and volunteers, and thanks to Brian and Bob for crewing.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-73305187119084171402009-07-05T17:31:00.000-07:002009-07-05T20:41:28.211-07:00Western States 100 2009"You're crazy!" I heard it time and again, and I always agreed. Running in THE Western States 100 mile race 8 days after World Cup 100k was beyond crazy. Stupid is probably more accurate. But, born with a stubborn streak and a 'can-do' attitude, I felt compelled to show up at the start line, knowing that if I didn't, I would regret that more than whatever pain I was about to take on. My soreness gone, my mechanics seemingly working as well as they do, I was hoping to retain a coveted top-10 position so I would be guaranteed a returning spot next year. I also promised my coach that if I started to feel injured at any point I was going to drop, so I really felt no pressure or expectation of a grand performance.<br /><br />And so it began at 5:00 a.m. While not feeling fresh, I wasn't sore or injured and had test hiked my legs for the flag-raising ceremony 2 days before. I jogged, hiked, jogged out of Squaw, chatting with gal-TeamUSA-mate Connie Gardner for awhile, then Scott Dunlap, and finally Jady Palco, who was uncharacteristically calm and focused. He was particularly pleased to be running States as his mother, Barbara Ashe, was also running, and at the time they were thought to be the first mother-son combo in the history of the race. He was determined to be conservative and get to the finish line in one piece, preferably before Mom.<br /><br />Finally cresting the top, I was anxious to start running downhill. The line in front of me was daunting, but eventually I made it around a few runners. My usual pattern is swallow lots of ground on the downhill, and struggle on the ups. Eventually I found a good niche amongst the racers near me, and settled into a good effort to Lyon Ridge. I had already been taking S!Caps - my plan was one at every aid station, and anytime I felt nauseous - and I was feeling alright, but my legs were not fresh. The next section to Red Star Ridge I struggled with soreness and the rocky trail. I couldn't for the life of me recall this section being so rocky, but in hindsight I'm sure it was just harder to dance on marbles with tired, sore legs than when I am rested and tapered.<br /><br />Scotty Mills, RD for SD100 became one of my companions during the early hours. I had met Scotty last winter in San Diego, and he learned of my foolish attempt, so each time he would pass me he would comment "I can't believe you're doing this! You're such a stud!" And I would pass him later, and back and forth it went. Caryn Spore was also trading with me every up and down (she is such an animal on the uphills) and calling me her hero. I think it would have been more appropriate to comment on my insanity and lack of setting a good example for the children. Nonetheless, I enjoyed their company.<br /><br />Just before Red Star Ridge aid station I met Susan Brozic from New Mexico. We ended up running together fair amount throughout the morning. She was nursing a broken toe and torn calf, and wasn't sure how far she would make it, but she moved very well. From Red Star to Duncan Canyon, I was not feeling great. I gave the altitude and tired legs credit for that, and hoped I wasn't too far off my splits from '07. Jed Tuckman, another Cali runner I had trained a couple of times, was just ahead of my on the newly machined dust trail leading into the aid station, when I hit my foot on something and smacked the ground hard, hitting my face on a rock. Always the first thought - "Is my race over???". Jed turned back, picked up my bottle, and assured me the face wound was superficial, and it didn't hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would. I made a feeble attempt to brush the dirt off, got my wheels going again, and gave our infamous Glenn Tachiyama a thumbs up as he clicked my picture going by.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9B5d_iuURwNtX6FB_V4Y9tK9RkYqTZHUAGzE0PemqdKWaTixkWmKcXenL005srnO0sjwBYOYTF4CTpq1NykHnnZJQxkWXqV9OKlvvxWUxx_fe8BvIhMcjnbJoL7Bywbby5f0/s1600-h/6051_1133151564080_1086004380_30479400_2237294_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9B5d_iuURwNtX6FB_V4Y9tK9RkYqTZHUAGzE0PemqdKWaTixkWmKcXenL005srnO0sjwBYOYTF4CTpq1NykHnnZJQxkWXqV9OKlvvxWUxx_fe8BvIhMcjnbJoL7Bywbby5f0/s320/6051_1133151564080_1086004380_30479400_2237294_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355139289358546370" border="0" /></a><br />Oh yeah, lookin' good!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I cruised into Duncan Canyon. Brian was ready with chocolate milk, Vespa, and a sense of humor. The kind aid station volunteers did their best to wipe my face and sponge me off. I asked Brian and Theresa to have a clean shirt for me at Dusty Corners. I iced up and was soon on the trail following Scotty again. When we finally reached the creek, it was heating up quite a bit. Scotty tip-toed across the rocks as I plunged in and sat down. "Sit down Scotty!" and he said "Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking" as he too doused himself well. Climbing out ahead of me he turned to let me know that Jenn Shelton was in sight. When I finally caught up to her, she said her legs were trashed. I encouraged her to keep going and be sure to cool off in the streams, and that she could recover.<br /><br />Finally to Robinson Flat, I was weighed and then I asked for blister help for a hot spot on the back of my heel. Quickly patched up, Ed ran me down to Laura and Alec, and the three of them plus assorted Oregon crews had me fed, ice in my bandana, and gave me a hearty send off. Someone shouted "1 mile of uphill then 15 miles of down!" I liked the sound of that. When I finally started the downhill, I was pretty uncomfortable. My legs were sore, and didn't want to roll. Patiently I took switchback after switchback, hoping for some turnaround until I admitted to myself that I didn't have to finish this race. I had nothing to prove, a perfect excuse to quit, no one would be surprised. I continued this negative self talk all the way to Miller's Defeat, but the aid station volunteers cheered me up and sent me on my way. I knew I could run the next three miles into Dusty Corners, and didn't want to let my crew down - especially Theresa who had flown all the way from Boston to run me in from the river. The decreased altitude was also starting to play in my favor, and by the time I arrived, I was in much better spirits. I ate, iced up and scooted out again, running much of Pucker Point trail with Susan. It was really hot now, but I had been slamming the salt and keeping cool with the ice and feeling better in this section than any previous race here. At Deadwood, I actually felt like eating pbj, soup, and soda. My weight was reasonable, the volunteers sponged me down, and I was on my way.<br /><br />I caught an overheated Scotty Mills one more time. "Hey Scotty! I got cleaned up!" He grinned and said "Yes, you did! But you know what? Now you're just pissing me off! What you're doing out here today? It's just wrong!" We both laughed, and I resisted the temptation to say "eat my dust!" Once more I caught Caryn before heading down the trail to the swinging bridge. I gingerly made my way down, happy for the gravity assist, but not happy with the leg jello. At the swinging brigde, I gu'd, salted, and began the long hike up to the Devil's Thumb. For the first time since running in Western States, I felt fine - even good - in this section, jogging the very few flat bits. Caryn and I arrived about the same time, and efficiently got in and out. As we approached the descent into El Dorado, she again let me go ahead. It seemed to take forever to get to the bottom, and the exposed sections made me want to gasp it was so hot. Again, the volunteers took great care of me, and I was on soon on my way to Michigan Bluff.<br /><br />My hike was still decent, and I could even jog a few places, and just near the end, I passed a struggling Sean Meissner. He declined any help, but seemed to still have some determination. Arriving to the cheering MB is always a boost. Brian and Theresa took good care of me, quickly, as I said I wanted to try to stay ahead of Caryn. As Theresa ran up the street with me, she said Caryn just arrived. I expected her catch me on the long, hot, uphill road on the way to Volcano Canyon, but I got to the downhill and she wasn't in sight. With tentative legs, I made my way down, down, down, wondering if these switchbacks would ever end. Finally at Volcano Creek, I gave myself the promised laydown into the cold water, completely dousing. I had hot spots on the balls of my feet that I knew needed attention, and when I met Ed at Bath Road, I asked him to go ahead to Foresthill and see if the aid station folks would fix them. When I arrived they were ready, and after a very long, meticulous treatment during which Caryn came and went, I was ready to roll. Brian, Theresa, Ed, and now Prudence got me fed and filled up with ice while I was sitting, and finally I was going to run my favorite section with Prudence to keep me going.<br /><br />It was 6:00 p.m. and the road from the school to California Street felt like an oven. It was the most intense heat I had experienced all day, and finally we made it to the dirt. We fairly cruised along, stopping briefly at Cal 1 for Gu, soda, gel, and salt. We kept a good pace on the flats and downhills, but the climbs were getting pretty tough. Prudence did a great job reminding me to breath deeply, by doing so herself (sort of like being in a yoga class). At Cal 2 I was happy and disappointed simultaneously to see Jeff Riley and his pacer Tom Atkins. I wanted him to have a good race, but obviously it wasn't his day. We encouraged each other, but I was in and out before he was ready to go. The downhill section from Cal 2 was feeling pretty good, and I was thinking we might still make it to the river before dark. Between Cal2 and Cal3, I saw a runner ahead to focus on, and I saw that he was listing rather severely. I felt sorry for the poor guy, and even more so when I realized it was Rob Cain with his pacer Erin. "Rob! What's going on? Why are you listing?" He smiled and said he didn't really know why, but he was suffering. I wished him well, and knew he was in good hands. After a surprisingly nice Cal 3 aid station, I could finally hear the sounds of the river crossing activity, and although Prudence pulled out her light, I ran in before it turned pitch black. I was very excited to have made it in about 3 hours from the school.<br /><br />After weighing in, John Ticer approached me with a message for Scott Wolfe's crew that Scott was in medical on this side of the river. Prudence and I ran down to the river, and began the most fun event of the day. The water felt great, albeit a bit sting-y on some chaffed areas. I could hear Theresa and Ed whooping it up as we made our way over.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUZMjbuoha0uWWsSU0TbYBxeMxQN23o-LRyahwJbNdFz3bO2zhU2r11Jr4iHZvfEp-59GhHIpf3gAcJ2H6INIY7f9t1Y-fM5T81zk70P-DLsrlkrtUWH_60GSwCKYMe7cyEo/s1600-h/meghansmallcrop.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUZMjbuoha0uWWsSU0TbYBxeMxQN23o-LRyahwJbNdFz3bO2zhU2r11Jr4iHZvfEp-59GhHIpf3gAcJ2H6INIY7f9t1Y-fM5T81zk70P-DLsrlkrtUWH_60GSwCKYMe7cyEo/s320/meghansmallcrop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355172489547801266" border="0" /></a><br />Once on dry land, I ate potato soup, grabbed my headlamp, changed waist packs, said hello to Linda and Bruce, while Brian and Ed made sure I had what I needed. Scott's crew was no where in sight. Prudence gave Theresa the pacing duties, and we high tailed it out of there. Near the top we met Scott's SO Siri, and gave her the news. Up at Green Gate, we passed on anymore aid, and headed into the darkness. Theresa seemed to be struggling with the trail a bit, so I reminded her to relax and pretend she was running in her local park, and to trust her proprioception. She laughed, claiming I was pacing her - but she soon got in a groove and we cruised along the flats, hiked the hills, and methodically picked off runners one at time. I had no idea what kind of pace or splits we were running but I felt that I would at least get a sub-24 buckle if nothing dramatic happened. ALT was uneventful, and we kept cruising. Ahead of me, I saw some lights again, and as we got closer, I saw that it was Caryn! Theresa asked if I wanted to pick it up, and I said "No, she's coming back to us, let's be patient."On a small switchback, Caryn could see and hear me, and put the pedal down. I thought she would still come back to us, but that was the last I saw her until the finish. Obviously she had more in the tank than I. I took another tumble, landing hard on my hand, hyper-extending my thumb and finger. No matter how many tumbles, I have yet to do anything that would label me as "Ticer Tough". No bones sticking out of the skin, no shredded ankle ligaments - just dirt and scrapes. Moments later, Theresa took a spill, which she claimed was out of sympathy. <br /><br />Into Brown's Bar, I had more potato soup. Theresa announced what I needed every time we came in to an aid station, and I had everything in moments notice. She also asked the volunteers - "Doesn't she look great???" to which they would all agree. It was, after all, fairly late, dark, and possibly somewhat boring. She added a nice entertainment factor for them, I'm sure. Leaving Brown's Bar I warned Theresa that it was long, down, and technical. I tried gingerly running but it proved to be just as fast for me to walk down. Again, I had forgotten how long it took to get to the Quarry Road, but finally, we were there. Surprisingly, I found myself running some of the uphills, getting pretty excited as we approached Highway 49. We the spotter announced us coming, Ed let out his usual whoop, and we arrived to the cheers of Brian, Ed, Laura and Alec. Laura said Jeff was picking it up, and that he might catch me. That cheered me up - I would have loved nothing better. While I was getting ready, Scott Wolfe and John Ticer fairly flew through the aid station - another great surprise! I was so glad Scott had been able to turn around his misfortunes from early in the day.<br /><br />Before I left, Brian said "Meghan, would you please say something to Dan before you leave? He is really having a hard time." Until then I hadn't seen him sitting in a chair, blanket in lap, with his pacer Matt gently massaging his legs, and his wife Courtney at his side being supportive of whatever needed to be done. I rubbed Dan-O's head - "Hey Dan - there's still time to feel better. Don't give up yet." Had I known what <a href="http://danolmstead.blogspot.com/">he had already gone through</a>, I might have said "get to the hospital and better luck next time" or something to that effect. It was very sad to see him like that, but he was in very good hands.<br /><br />Theresa and I headed out and could see Scott and John for one last time before they put a lot of distance on us. Quite alone, we made our way to No Hands Bridge. A good luck hug from Shannon Weil, and we were crossing the bridge. Before we made it to the climb to Robie Point, I saw the familiar gait of Alan Abbs. When I finally reached him I said "Alan, it took me FOREVER to catch you today!" He had left his stomach back at ALT and had nothing left to push hard to the finish. At last, the climb to Robie, and I could hear Ed. Theresa and I both hollered, he replied, and we were on our way to the school. We walked and ran the climbs, then crossed the white bridge, and ran what felt fast down to the school and onto the track. Ed and Theresa escorted me around the track, to my finish time of 21:33. I had achieved my main objective of placing in the top 10 and run a time only 45 minutes slower than 2007.<br /><br />Quite relieved to be done, I went through the "Vet Check" - my blood pressure was a little high (I was excited!) so I had to sit quietly for a spell. I was also part of a blood sodium level study, and had my blood drawn for that. Surprisingly, it was slightly below normal, even though I had taken at least 3x the amount of salt I had in the past. My second BP pressure was normal, so I was released. The rest of the wee small hours were spent napping, eating, drinking, waiting and cheering for the last runners. At 11:00, most of Team Sunsweet and crew went to see Dan in the hospital. He was in pretty good spirits, and seems he'll be among the running again in the future.<br /><br />I want to especially thank Brian, Theresa, Ed and Prudence for their stellar performances all day long! You guys are the best!<br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35500831.post-17989273677766665802009-06-25T09:10:00.000-07:002009-07-01T20:37:35.820-07:00Race Day!Friday morning began with a technical meeting with our managers and crews. Lin had been to the technical meeting for all the team managers the night before, and she and Lion explained the lay of the aid stations. The loops were not 20k each as I had previously thought, but an initial 23k loop, and four 19k or so loops. All 5 loops contained the 19k loop, but adding the 4k to the initial loop made the first 2 loops equal the distance of a marathon – for the few thousand participants running 'only' 26.2 miles. Then due to the nature of the roads, houses, turns, and towns, the aid stations were placed according to what was the most convenient for getting crews and volunteers to the aid stations, rather than being placed 5k apart. There were a total of 5 aid stations per loop, and we had crew at 3 of them, and since the other 2 were close enough, I only placed bottles at those with our crew. <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-xJpxE_NpWBGiP2wgeIzPgGFnjVj86BQ1tifZMz_AoWp7F-BFJ1bb8mEsR60gyjiIjfVPW-NJcqNJ42OLMJqSs2OKoCM9_bEDZlhEZBSmrH6Pcc8R7vErajCYs4O2Zcx6whc/s1600-h/torhout+map.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-xJpxE_NpWBGiP2wgeIzPgGFnjVj86BQ1tifZMz_AoWp7F-BFJ1bb8mEsR60gyjiIjfVPW-NJcqNJ42OLMJqSs2OKoCM9_bEDZlhEZBSmrH6Pcc8R7vErajCYs4O2Zcx6whc/s320/torhout+map.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351301598558680242" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p> Each runner was assigned crew members – I was given Lin – who would travel by foot between aid stations D and E that were close together 'as the crow flies' and Maria Spinnler at aid station C.<br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The rest of the day was spent preparing bottles, napping, focusing on hydrating, eating sensibly but amply enough to sustain us for our 8:00 p.m. start. We decided to gather at 2:00, and with the hotel management's generous approval, Lion and Susan used the kitchen to prepare pasta and sauce, salad and bread. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfbntbZaGzlKrh0qNmIc6L-rErRkAO-SQRPBONLjeiCiWRahQxdR2Ny7B6Ipc7VAJzyDifxG6Q1CQIAxvwl-K3zt02JZdWNl3SOlCqLdI2TCU-R2oE9cYr0e9y7Y7KIDZp7s/s1600-h/DSCN0532.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfbntbZaGzlKrh0qNmIc6L-rErRkAO-SQRPBONLjeiCiWRahQxdR2Ny7B6Ipc7VAJzyDifxG6Q1CQIAxvwl-K3zt02JZdWNl3SOlCqLdI2TCU-R2oE9cYr0e9y7Y7KIDZp7s/s320/DSCN0532.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353328250799525314" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kami and I had cooked rice the day before and added that plus some eggs to the menu. I ate a bowl of rice and 2 fried eggs, then went back to my room for some rest. I dozed lightly, and at 4:00 delivered my prepared flasks of EFS with Pre-Race added, and my flasks of EFS gel. I rested again until 5:00, had a cup of coffee, and at 6:00 got dressed for team photos. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80q3lLFssfy7_zo7PN83kykPQ6v1trUmmsOEsOyQBreWGDI52_zhii_jCDtyqfR0Na-7U9JVPO74nbJ0oEgXX5RgzegywRwMxOvQpHeX5WtxWZfc_Wx_d5gAaX2efvHcCD9c/s1600-h/DSCN0520.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80q3lLFssfy7_zo7PN83kykPQ6v1trUmmsOEsOyQBreWGDI52_zhii_jCDtyqfR0Na-7U9JVPO74nbJ0oEgXX5RgzegywRwMxOvQpHeX5WtxWZfc_Wx_d5gAaX2efvHcCD9c/s320/DSCN0520.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353222087938311938" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At 6:30, Kami, Tyson and I drove to the Torhout sports center, and joined the team relaxing outside near the track. The masses were arriving – we were told there would be a total of 7000 participants in the 100k run, 100k walk, 10k run, and marathon. Of those 7000, there were 130 men and 70 women in the World Championship representing several countries. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kami and I started warming up on the track at 7:20. It did not feel like evening at all. The sun was still fairly high, the temperature warm, but mild. After a few laps and strides, we made our way to the race start. Those competing in the World Cup had been promised a separate corral from the marathoners and open 100k racers, but it was not to be. We wedged our way in, trying to locate team members. We were fairly smashed in when the race management began waving that we had to back up. We became more and more squeezed, getting hotter and a bit irritated until we were sardines and the management was satisfied. At last, there was a countdown, and the race began.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>The mass surged forward, and through the narrow streets, somewhat chaotically. I managed to stay in contact with Kami heels as the crowd slightly strung out. My plan was to keep my heart rate under 167, something coach Bob and I had recently learned from a physiology test was top end of my aerobic zone. My pace was to be dictated by heart rate, and I was hoping that pace would be in the low 7s. For the first couple of miles, it was around 164 and the pace was low 7, but the effort felt a little to rich, so I watched Kami gradually drift away. At 161, I felt very relaxed and comfortable, and came to the first 5k in just under 22 minutes. It was the first aid station, and Lion had barely gotten there in time. He was holding 3 bottles for 3 runners, I pointed to mine, and he smoothly got it to me.<br /><br />The first loop of the course was in the daylight, and it was very pleasant. Many families and friends were having outdoor parties in their front yards, toasting and cheering us on as we passed. I continued monitering the HR - whenever it got above 162, it felt too much for 8 hours of running, but bringing it down was easy. I was focusing when I heard a voice behind me say "Hey Meghan, hows it going?". It was Kami, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "What are you doing back here?" I asked. Her orthotic was giving her problems so she had stopped to adjust it. We ran together for awhile, then she made a pit stop, so I ran on, prepared not to be so freaked out next time she caught up. Eventually she did, we ran together awhile, but finally she drifted away again.<br /><br />The next 5k was 22:25, and 15k, 20k, and 25k, were all under 23. During the last 5k my stomach had begun cramping a bit, but I attributed it to the afternoon meal, and after a quick portapotty stop was sure I was good to go. Mike Spinnler had told me after 15k that I was in 3rd place, and to take it easy, just relax. I was surprised at the placing, but felt really relaxed and in control. I had been taking S!Caps at every 6-7k, drinking my E.F.S. and nipping on a gel flask to keep my energy up. With the stop in the 26-30k section, my time was over 23. I felt that the next 5k would be back under 23, but apparently my stomach wasn't done, and I found myself in the bushes. Well, maybe this time I was done! But alas, it became the story of my race. I stopped eating the gel, afraid it was the problem, and continued with the E.F.S. and S!Caps. The next time I saw Lin, I asked for water with my drink, and she had a carton for me. The water went down well, and I sipped the E.F.S. My stomach continued to rebel, and as darkness took over, my pace continued to drop with my HR. If I pushed the pace, the stomach cramped and nausea set in. 35k, 40k, 45k were all between 7:45-8:00 pace, which included 4 more pit stops, and I finally made it to 50k in 3:50. Feeling as raw as I did, it seemed highly unlikely I would run under my PR of 7:52.<br /><br />Mike had done a good job throughout of relaying my place. I had been passed by a Norwegian woman and a Russian woman, so I was in 5th. I begged myself to not slow further, just keep trying to keep some fluids going in. It was quite dark now, but the street lights were fairly ample even in the countryside. As we passed through each of the two villages the course ran through, we were greeted and cheered by hearty revelers, imbibing in good Belgium beer. If it wasn't "U S A! U S A!" it was "We can DO it!" being shouted. The cheers were good for motivating me, but the stomach wouldn't allow me to continue hard.<br /><br />Out in the lonlier countryside, I heard a familiar voice. Devon was catching up and Carolyn was with her. While not being excited about being caught, I was so glad to have teammate company I let it go. Devon grilled me on my issues, and helped me tremendously by suggesting I try some Vespa at the next aid station where Lion had her stash. We three ran together for quite awhile, getting more cheers than ever, running in 4th, 5th, and 6th place. Wondering what had bumped us up a place, Devon and Carolyn explained to me that the Russian woman had been DQ'd for having a bicycle pacer that had to be removed more that once by the local police.<br /><br />Devon was feeling great, and she pulled away from Carolyn and I, promising to tell Lion to have a Vespa ready for me. Moments after she pulled on, I had to visit bushes again, letting Carolyn pull ahead. When I pulled into the aid station, Lin was ready with my drink, but I slowed to a walk and said "we need to problem solve. My stomach is cramping, I am dehydrated, and I am losing water with all of my pit stops. Lion is supposed to have a Vespa for me." We jogged to Lion who met us, ready with the Vespa and the race drink "Aquarius" which he instructed me to just sip at. I downed the Vespa, took the drink and jogged out. I was at 60-70k now, and hoping for some turn around.<br /><br />Carolyn was still in sight, and I worked on catching up to her. Just when I did, I had one more pit stop, but then it was over. My stomach calmed, and I was back to Lin and Lion, with 20k to go. I was feeling better, and once more, I pulled back up to Carolyn. We worked together, and she told me I could go ahead if I wanted. She was on PR pace big time, and I wanted to work with her. When we got to 15k to go, I said the preposterous thing ever. We were at 6:47 with 9.3 miles to go, and I said "think we can run 9 miles in one hour?" I didn't think more, and said - "I think I'll go ahead and try to get my record" (7:52) and pulled ahead. She graciously encouraged me on. In about one minute, I did the math. Really? I think I can run 7 minute pace for 9 miles when I haven't run that fast all day? I had no idea how fast I was going, given the darkness and inability to read my watch, but I felt I was lucky to be going under 8 minute pace. However, I did feel like pushing it.<br /><br />Out in the countryside, I could see the cathedral that would be the end of the run, lights glowing within. I got excited, until I realized I was going away from it for awhile. The road zigged and zagged and the cathedral seemed to move as well. My mind was willing to surge, but the body would only respond for awhile. I pushed and flagged until finally reached the town, turned a few more turns, and finally crossed the finish line in 8:04, good for 5th place. Relieved to be done, I turned around and was stunned to see an Irish woman cross the line a mere 20s behind me. Now I was glad I had surged (such as it was). Carolyn finished in 8:07, a nine minute PR. Devon had broken 8 hours by a minute, and Kami had won -rocking the course in 7:33. Connie finished in a respectable 8:42. After studying my splits and HR, it appears that I never really picked it up again, but I did prevent a total slowdown at the end, averaging 7:45 pace for the race.<br /><br />We hung around the finish for a bit, and as we walked to our van, the morning light arrived. Back at our hotel, we showered, and rested up until the awards ceremony. Outside the sports center was a usual site of a french fry vendor, and we were happy to oblige.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH9XTIR3ba_OXniu9MwaafNpSXyVRHuk5v9J0LaX8xZbmi90unmrO2Ts6cQqjD78uaT8S81YdA4CBbC_dLpg1WP2qmeznRX4olrVOioP-L-7fc_yPrjl-cIBdbWIf7L3WKvC8/s1600-h/DSCN0545.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH9XTIR3ba_OXniu9MwaafNpSXyVRHuk5v9J0LaX8xZbmi90unmrO2Ts6cQqjD78uaT8S81YdA4CBbC_dLpg1WP2qmeznRX4olrVOioP-L-7fc_yPrjl-cIBdbWIf7L3WKvC8/s320/DSCN0545.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353696732817638002" border="0" /></a><br />The award ceremony was emotional for me when Kami was announced as the winner of the Gold Medal, and although I have never felt teary during the national anthem before, something about my teammate on the podium did it for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_v0XL0Ezod5J4man1E48_URZAyrWvyc0M_FSgB3wkSLAZgtPPYb9eERX98AESd55oXj1qCLujxbrfuQlSUWAW0KyNxC_rTq2jGioGwRphFzAJgJEny9dWnY2hN2in5MZH6jY/s1600-h/kamigold.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_v0XL0Ezod5J4man1E48_URZAyrWvyc0M_FSgB3wkSLAZgtPPYb9eERX98AESd55oXj1qCLujxbrfuQlSUWAW0KyNxC_rTq2jGioGwRphFzAJgJEny9dWnY2hN2in5MZH6jY/s320/kamigold.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353697405463701746" border="0" /></a>Then it was time for team presentations.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLUaUBuVRBDJ8weJ6vLFVcUl7qfMEm-FUxSJwRnRcpDYH84_jNeD024Zl81VRYKh6sWyRNfyAhmbXNqLPDL0U6UBZOMrTQ2KvFHu22CvoAm-00kWRbCN_7PnRKc-eW-mabOA/s1600-h/teamusa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 182px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLUaUBuVRBDJ8weJ6vLFVcUl7qfMEm-FUxSJwRnRcpDYH84_jNeD024Zl81VRYKh6sWyRNfyAhmbXNqLPDL0U6UBZOMrTQ2KvFHu22CvoAm-00kWRbCN_7PnRKc-eW-mabOA/s320/teamusa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353699874433248514" border="0" /></a><br />We later learned that the Russian woman had NOT been disqualified, but the Norwegian runner had dropped. Next year, we will be in Gibraltar, in November. If you want to have a great adventure and come crew Team USA, start saving your pennies!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p id="blogfeeds"><$BlogFeedsVertical$></p>
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</div></div>Meghanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09069117640650301254noreply@blogger.com2