Way 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.

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.

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.

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.

The race begins!  Photo by Chuck Godtfredson

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.

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.

 Caren leading me into the end of loop 1.  Photo by Barbara Ashe

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

 John and I cruising into ALT aid station.  Photo by Carole Connor

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!"

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.

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!)

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.

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.

 Finish line in sight!  Photo by Chuck Godtfredson

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.

 So glad to be done - photo by Chuck Godtfredson

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.

 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

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.

 Hmmm - 4:20:27 minus 4:11....that is MORE than 9 minutes.  Photo by Chuck Godtfredson.

He and Jed both say they are going to stay behind me at Lake Sonoma 50 Mile on April 2nd.  Really?  We'll see.

 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.

Bandera 100k - 2011

As one of the long runs in the Montrail Ultra Cup 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.

Up and coming Pam Smith from Salem had run this race last year, and was only minutes from the winners. She entered again this year, and she joined the Sunsweet group of Laura and Jeff Riley, Craig and Laurie Thornley, Dan Olmstead, 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 Bandera.  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.

Sotol Cactus - Note the nice teeth!

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.

The ever charming Olga Varlamova

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 Liza Howard, 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.

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.

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.  

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.  

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.  

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.

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.  

I looked about how I felt.  Bleah.

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.

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.

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.  

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.  

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.

You ran HOW fast?

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.  

The NorthFace 50 Mile Challenge

This 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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

100k World Championships 2010

 

The Rock of Gibraltar

 
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).

Gibraltar Barbary Macaque

 Normal pedestrian traffic on Main Street in Gibraltar

 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.

Parade of Nations

Assembly of the teams

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.  

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.

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. 

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....

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.  

A perfect hand off! Photo by Matt's brother-in-law Darryl Schaffer

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.  

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.

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.  

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!"  

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.....

Hand off by Dad - photo by Darryl Schaffer

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.  

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!  

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. 

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!

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.

Las 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.

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 cork oak.  It appeared to be quite a business in the area.

Cork Oak that has been harvested recently

We arrived to Las Navas about 6 hours after leaving Madrid, and found  Plaza de la Constitucion, 2, with little difficulty. 

Plaza de la Constitucion

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.  

Francisco's Tio

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.


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.  

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. 

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. 

 Walking stick

Some local vino

Home made sausages

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.  

Excellent pork cutlets

Warm ham sandwich

 

 Our hostess, Rosa

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.

Antonio, the town doctor and nurse

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.  


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.


On to Gibraltar!

Madrid!

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.

 La museo de Prado

After the musuem we strolled to the Plaza Mayor - every city should have one!

La Plaza Mayor

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.

Those support timbers were huge!

Very good bread and wine

A most excellent Spanish cheese

Lamb chops served on french fries was a yummy dinner!

Dad's Spanish tortilla - which is potatoes and eggs.

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.

Twin Cities Marathon

This 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. 

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.

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.

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. 

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 Napa Marathon 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. 

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!" 

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.   

McKenzie River 50k

Three 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 fish tapeworm.  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.

 Diphyllobothrium "Dan-O" latum

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.

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.

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. 

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. 

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.

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!

And, yes, I beat Craig - let's see what was his time?  4:19?  And barely escaped being double chicked!