tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435878590532828842024-02-18T18:41:41.634-08:00While WinterA photographer's view of the journey as an ultra/trail/minimalist runner,triathlete & brazilian jiu-jitsu enthusiast.RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-9388571056180742332017-03-18T21:20:00.000-07:002017-03-18T22:41:11.488-07:00Arrowhead135 2017 | An Unsupported Journey<div class="MsoNormal">
I must have weighed the pros and cons a thousand times
before deciding how to take on the Arrowhead135 this year. Early season
training runs and tire drags had me feeling efficient, strong and fast. The
temptation to go for a PR was high. Even plausible. Then, at the peak of summer
Jeremiah & I launched a business…a grand adventure neither of us saw
coming. In the whirlwind of months that followed it became an easy decision.
Unsupported. I craved the quiet of the
north woods. Solitude over speed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The morning before the race I make the drive to Fortune Bay
(the finish line) where I will leave my truck for the duration of the event. Locking
it feels so final…I hope I have everything.
I book a room for the day I plan to finish, further incentive to get
myself here, then hop on the cab back to IFalls with other racers doing the
same. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Ed Thomas, a brother in the foot-division, is on the shuttle
with me. Catching up with him brings some much needed levity to the day even as
my thoughts wander mid-conversation going over the many checklists dominating
my mind. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Less than 30minutes into the trip back the shuttle breaks down…
awesome. We’re all increasingly anxious to get to town and finalize race-prep,
but I couldn’t have picked a better group of guys to be stuck with waiting for
the replacement cab to arrive. Imagine
the stories, the rumors of Sasquatch on the trail & the laughter. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">“Be still, and know that I am God:” Psalm 46:10a </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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What is left of the afternoon is spent checking boxes on the
lists. Loading and then reloading the bloated pulk. I finally reach the point
where I have winnowed away everything I can safely go without before heading to
the trail for a quick shake-out run with Ed. All of the added food and fuel is heavy, but I’m
confident with my setup and it drags well.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Going unsupported carries new mental burdens and I wrestle
with them going into the pre-race meeting. I’m afraid of forgetting something
stupid that will have a profound effect on my race. I do my best to talk with
everyone I haven’t seen in a year, but my mind has already begun blurring
everything else out in order to focus on the task ahead. This is going to be tough…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">“Have I not
commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do
not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
Joshua 1:9<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: orange;">Day 1</span></u></b></div>
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Race morning I wake up rested before the alarm goes off. I go about checking off the final boxes on the
lists when Jeremiah calls. I savor every word. This is the last time I will
hear my Beloved’s voice until my race is over, wherever that may be. I pin the
green ribbon that indicates a racer as unsupported to my race bib, then duct
tape it in place as a secondary measure securing my commitment to this
approach. We pray, say our I love yous and out the door I go. <o:p></o:p></div>
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If I’ve forgotten
anything, there’s nothing I can do about it.<span style="color: orange;"> <b>I’m all in</b>.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpImsbs4qXrA05jmM55jalE8sgA9B6htR2PrIqlACAE8zt9s3ZiAhfvMNoHYIbv1mjGYmZfE26FlJYGXaiH5V5EcXEiDZkl4f8Nk8iAb9g1QTypZaWpDEzVbS_Xi5M1AdLTTSUuFJB5jA/s1600/racestartE2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpImsbs4qXrA05jmM55jalE8sgA9B6htR2PrIqlACAE8zt9s3ZiAhfvMNoHYIbv1mjGYmZfE26FlJYGXaiH5V5EcXEiDZkl4f8Nk8iAb9g1QTypZaWpDEzVbS_Xi5M1AdLTTSUuFJB5jA/s320/racestartE2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Game face. (Photo Credit: Jason Johnson)</td></tr>
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Fireworks send us off into the dark morning. Months of preparation
finally put into motion. The glide of fresh snow is a blessing to my beast of a
sled, but all day I struggle to settle into a sustainable pace. I find myself
hustling between groups of friends attempting to soak in what I can of their
sweet company and encouragement. Knowing it’s their voices I’ll want in my head
when the going gets dark and I’m all alone. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUe-LyZsyO8tWihQuGBg7kTwnJLGOg2ZTF51lx4CmDM3YpMZI6gvIgWaf-DZs8fmYZG_PIJPy91Csy4BY6mYde7wKy3eW_9y-T90ZEj3GzFzQko5-fUZhoZPes3mtVspg9U9hGU76s4Y/s1600/JRahu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUe-LyZsyO8tWihQuGBg7kTwnJLGOg2ZTF51lx4CmDM3YpMZI6gvIgWaf-DZs8fmYZG_PIJPy91Csy4BY6mYde7wKy3eW_9y-T90ZEj3GzFzQko5-fUZhoZPes3mtVspg9U9hGU76s4Y/s400/JRahu.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Maranda Lorraine</td></tr>
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Sunlight begins to dwindle as I reach the last shelter outside
of Gateway Store (Checkpoint 1). It is
here that I have planned to stop to boil snow into water, get off my feet and make
some hot food. Racer after racer passes
me as I gather snow and stick to the plan. I can see the doubt (or perhaps its
pity) on some of their faces, but I’m happy here. The hustle of the day now
hushed as I dig into my camp meal and soak in the silent beauty of snowflakes
continuing to fall. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Michael appears outside the shelter just as I start on my
final snow melt. He’s unsupported too
and has done a better job patiently pacing himself through day one. I pack up and we travel the remaining miles
to Gateway together. It’s like old times again. I’m so thankful.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s completely dark when we get to the first checkpoint, mile
35. Mike has some work to do so he stays behind getting set up for night. I’ve
done everything I can do to avoid the temptation of going inside to warm up, rejoin
my friends and eat that tasty cheese burger.
I am successful and quickly pass though. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Night one is never ending as I make my way toward
Melgeorge’s. My legs and body feel adequate
for the task but I am surprised by how tired I feel so early in the race. It’s
only night one and I’m starting to fall asleep on my feet. I’m forced to shiver bivy several times. Each
time I unpack the down jacket I use as a blanket from my sled I’m greeted by
the letter my husband sent with me the first time I attempted Arrowhead and
failed. I never open it, seeing it is enough. The outside of it reads “when: the
darkest hour before the dawn”. I pass
out and then press on as if I could somehow pull the sun over the horizon
instead of my pulk over these hills.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The tug-of-war with fatigue is constant, so is the hunger. Despite devouring countless 800 calorie bags
of food, I can hear my stomach growling every time I stop. Every.Single.Time. I’m reduced to a zombie
walking food-shoveling Neanderthal when Lisa and I meet up on the trail. Grateful
to not be alone I follow her as she gracefully picks her way down the trail to
checkpoint 2. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies
never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your
faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:22-23</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: orange;">Day 2</span></u></b><br />
Day breaks and we trek across Elephant Lake to Melgeorge’s,
mile 75. A kind volunteer meets me outside the cabin so that I don’t have to go
in to check in/out. I’m better off not knowing what I’m missing inside. Lisa goes in to sleep and resupply, I head up
the trail another 3 miles to a shelter. In the time-warp to the second checkpoint I’ve
found myself looking forward to these 3 miles. My first time on the Arrowhead Trail
was here, when the thought of running the race was this mammoth dream. I fell
in love with it then and here on my fourth year racing it, that hasn’t changed. </div>
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I am mentally in a good space when Kari catches up to me on
the trail. She’s fresh off of Tuscobia and there’s a certain degree of
understanding in the words we exchange. This is work, but that doesn’t keep it from
being wonderful.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Reaching the shelter I pull off to the side and stick to the
plan. This is the second spot I have plotted out to melt more snow and make
warm food, but my need for sleep comes first. I don’t want to mess with fire
when I’m this tired so I crawl into the oasis of my bivy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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All of the pain and soreness fatigue had drowned out getting
through the night now has me paralyzed in a sea of down. My left knee is swollen and the front of my
right hip feels like a gnarly marble has taken up residence in it. Lying flat I
can barely straighten out my legs…Don’t freak out, work the problem. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I roll onto one side and grab out the compression shorts I
have stashed in my bag. Maybe they can help…
maybe I’ll get some sleep. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I sound like a grizzly bear getting frisky with a plastic
bag trying to navigate my legs into these tiny spandex shorts inside my bivy.
The thought of waking Helen sleeping 20feet away mortifies me as I fight to get
them on. I set an alarm and nod off in a literal hurt bag. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfO_Eb3sATNUFL2QIQRbO7UW91wgOET-MMjI-aWlWSnu6cJJbkNU3wxr1hbygFCwSBvqluPNyS06GEMKzv4DR4MVnjOGDo0mTAdlv5-jiLn3Q1DDQAbwNWlPhWpRLyMWgyRShQDlOczUs/s1600/IMG_7865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfO_Eb3sATNUFL2QIQRbO7UW91wgOET-MMjI-aWlWSnu6cJJbkNU3wxr1hbygFCwSBvqluPNyS06GEMKzv4DR4MVnjOGDo0mTAdlv5-jiLn3Q1DDQAbwNWlPhWpRLyMWgyRShQDlOczUs/s400/IMG_7865.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp at the shelter outside of Melgeorge's</td></tr>
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Helen (unsupported on skis) is busy making food and melting
snow by the time I wake up. I hobble my
way around filling bag after bag full of fine snow to melt down before making
breakfast. The compression shorts help
hold me upright, but my movement is incredibly slow & painful. <o:p></o:p></div>
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How can I do this...should I do this? I do a lot of math waiting for the pots of snow
to melt and question whether or not turning back to Melgeorge’s is the wise
move. There is no sag-wagon along with me this year if I’m forced to drop and Surly
checkpoint is a long ways away. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The thought of going forward at the pace I’m moving just
doesn’t compute… then I hear Helen whimper. A giant blister has unintentionally
burst as she was taking care of her feet.
She looks over at me & matter-of-factly says “well, I guess that was
going to happen eventually anyway.” before pulling a sock and ski boot back over
her battered foot.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Some of the most courageous and accomplished people I know pass
by as I’m mulling over my options at the shelter<b>. <span style="color: orange;">How can I not continue when I’m surrounded by badasses?</span> …</b> I pack
up my kit and hobble back on the trail following in their footsteps. My legs
may betray me further, but mentally I’m still all in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Daylight is swiftly fading as I’ve eaten up a good portion of it setting up for the next portion of the race. I made the call to start taking ibuprofen at the shelter knowing I’d need every bit of my legs for the constant climbing this section. These hills are written on my soul, in all their toil, in some insane way, I adore them. Thank God by the time I reach them some pain has subsided and I’m ready to conquer.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: orange;"><b>…Into another night I go. </b></span><br />
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Darkness falls and with it comes more snow. The flakes flicker in the light of my headlamp and it feels like I’m pacing my way through the heavens. Man I love winter. I close my eyes and just listen to it, this is what I came here for…then I hear the growl again & it’s time to go. Back to this wonderful work. Neanderthal Zombie: Phase 2<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">“I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” Psalm 121: 1-2</span><br />
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I’ve fallen asleep leaned over my trekking poles waiting for my heart-rate to recover climbing up yet another hill when Lisa appears. I manage not to hallucinate as we continue down the trail together a second night, but my mind repeatedly doubts whether her presence is real or just some fatigued flash-back to the previous night. Either way, I’m thankful she’s there.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lisa (Photo Credit: Jason Johnson)</td></tr>
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<br />
<b><span style="color: orange;">Keep your wits. </span></b>If I drink this much water between this shelter & this shelter it will leave me enough to boil snow with at Surly…I reached this shelter at this time so that puts me at this pace, meaning if I eat this much food here I can safely take more ibuprofen now and again there. ..Fuck my legs, fuck this fatigue.<br />
I do so much math attempting to plunder the fatigue and stay on track throughout the night. I’ve never been so tired on so many levels.<br />
<br />
If you’ve ever been on a long road trip with your car window rolled down slapping your own face just to stay awake all while growing more and more frustrated trying to hold your eyelids open and focus on anything you know where I’m at.<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">“ I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.” Psalm 130: 5 & 6</span><br />
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A cold snap nestles in like an icy hand over my shoulder as the wind picks up and we’re in whiteout conditions approaching the last shelter before Surly checkpoint. Reaching it, it’s packed. I’m so desperate to get out of the wind and get some sleep that I go in anyway. Lisa moves some gear out of the way on a shelf that’s mounted to the shelter wall to sleep on and I grab a spot underneath the shelving in the corner. Sitting down I know why this spot is the only one left. One butt cheek is propped up on a volleyball sized rock and the other is planted on a half dozen empty beer cans left behind by some snowmobilers. It sounds like an infirmary in here; everyone is coughing because of the cold and distance settling into their lungs. I want to send an SOS out to my family for prayer support knowing that this is the darkest before the dawn for me, but I set my phone alarm instead, pull my hood over my face and pass out sitting upright. <br />
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20 minutes later the alarm goes off just as one of the fat bikers lets out a colossal fart waking everyone in the shelter. The brutality of the state we’re in is broken as we all start laughing. I love this moment… these people. One by one they crawl out of their bivies and get back on the trail.<br />
<br />
I hit the trail more alive than I’ve been the entire race. My unspoken SOS heard. The wind is still unrelenting, the slog to sunrise long and I have to lift my betraying legs with both arms onto the pulk every time I sled a downhill but, somehow, I’m happy.<br />
<br />
A few miles later I catch up with my friend Jay going for the a`trois. Everything in his body posture reads pain, but he assesses the problem, ties a bandanna around his bum leg and continues down the trail.<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">How can I not be badass when I'm surrounded by badasses?</span><br />
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More miles and math in I’m finally at Surly, mile 108. Too pissed by the mocking signs leading up to the checkpoint to stay long I check in/out and stick to the plan heading down the trail to set up camp. Bivy before boiling.<br />
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I open my eyes and in an instant any doubt I had that this unsupported approach was worth it, is gone. The morning sun glitters over the new snow and through the pine forest all around me. It’s cold, but that brings a perfect stillness, the stillness I craved when I signed up for this adventure. I’m soaking it all in when a volunteer on snowmobile stops to check on me. I give him a run-down of my plan to get caught up on hydration and get a meal in before departing. I can tell he’s concerned that I won’t make the finish line before the cutoff and I know it’s tight but I’m confident. This section has been strong the last two years and for the first time in 3 days I can tell my body is finally healing. I just have to top off all the tanks before I can move on.<br />
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Beauty and brutality often travel side by side on the Arrowhead. That reality came crushing in when I grabbed the stove out of my bag to start on the snow melt. Sometime in the night my fuel tank had started to leak and the canister was now sitting in a pool of white gas….Don’t freak out, work the problem. <br />
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With my gloves off in the freezing cold I started wiping down and re-pressurizing the tank. It worked, but there wasn’t a lot of fuel left. The ups and downs were harsh as I kept at it setting up for the final leg. One moment I was enjoying the first cup of coffee I’d had in 30days watching the sunrise and the snow melt in the pot. The next I was scrambling to save any clean water left when that pot of snow slid off the stove drowning out the flame and soaking my gloves. With fuel & time quickly vanishing I rushed to get back on track and on the trail.<br />
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Leaving camp I immediately start running. Fumbling with my stove has cost me most of the dexterity in my ring finger and I can’t let it (or the others) get any colder. Be the furnace. My once betraying legs are on now on board and I find myself at the base of Wake’m Up before I know it. A snowmobile volunteer comes by again, he asks how I’m doing, nods & turns back toward Surly checkpoint. Its then I know… I’m the last one out here. This news is both heavy and an honor. I press on.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: orange;">“God, the Lord, is my strength; He makes my feet like the deer’s; He makes me tread on my high places.” Habakkuk 3:19</span><br />
<br />
I see the foot prints of Ed’s mukluks in the snow as I make my way further down the trail. I think of the countless badasses ahead of me and how thankful I am to race among then. Then I’m reminded of the conversation Ed and I had on the shuttle. We talked a lot about finishing before sunset. I want that more than I want to be done, so I keep running, racing the sun.<br />
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The distance and effort catch up with me in the early afternoon. Exhausted and progressively more nauseous I keep plunking away when I meet Ashley, a Florida native and Arrowhead rookie. She looks the way I feel. We make tired conversation, but we aren’t in our own heads. How can we be so numb and so focused at the same time? Frustrated with my current condition I become paranoid that I’m radiating negativity and I don’t want to be “that guy” so I pull ahead creating some distance.<br />
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I’m comforted by the familiar landmarks I pass as I get closer and closer to the finish line. Then my foot slips off of the hard-packed edge of the trail and my Achilles is on fire. Fuck! 10 miles to go and I’m crawling deep into my pain cave. “Finish before sunset” I tell myself over and over as I bite my neck warmer, my wooden spoon for the pain and keep moving.<br />
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By the time I’ve started toying with the idea of duct taping a stick to my ankle for support Tod passes by on his snowmobile and shouts out “Enjoy your finish”. Finish. I’m overwhelmed and so excited at the same time…Just keep moving.<br />
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The sun is nearly set when I reach Fortune Bay, mile 135. A crowd of people stand in the cold cheering me across the finish line and it’s actually over. The math I couldn’t compute at Melgeorge’s finally solved.<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">“The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but the victory belongs to the Lord.” Proverbs 21:31</span><br />
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RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-88843087928131273622016-02-28T17:53:00.002-08:002016-02-29T19:56:05.170-08:00Arrowhead135 | My 2016 Journey on Foot<br />
<span style="color: orange;">“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken;” Isaiah 54:10a</span><br />
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span>
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As I sit here trying to piece together what I experienced traveling the Arrowhead this year I cannot help but feel that words fail. Like much of my trail family out there, I was broken down & rebuilt over the course of 135 miles. Fifty-four hours and fifteen minutes of forward momentum later, I know, sometimes heaven & hell aren’t that far apart.<br />
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<h3>
<b><span style="color: orange;">Day 1 | Kerry Park to Gateway Checkpoint</span></b></h3>
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<b><span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></b></div>
My sled hits the ground early as I make the short solo-trek from the motel room to the starting line. An annual tradition to calm my nerves. It’s dark and the mist filled air blankets the morning in the kind of stillness only winter can manifest. I love this.<br />
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Arriving at the start the energy is an interesting mix of anticipation and heightened apprehension. With Minnesota experiencing another low snow year, we didn’t know what to expect of the trail conditions. Reports of the ungroomed route, pulks rolling onto their sides due to the uneven terrain and an “impossible” year for skiers daunted us in the weeks leading up to the event. The pre-race meeting did nothing to assuage this. Only caution that the trail is rough. What that meant, we’d find out as the day(s) went on.<br />
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My heart is full as I greet so many familiar faces race morning. Faces illuminated by the shifting glow of hundreds of red blinking lights. I hug as many of them as possible before finding my place with Michael at the starting line. <br />
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Cheers and whistling break the morning stillness. <br />
The hounds are released. The journey begins.<br />
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The trail is eerily well packed for the first ten miles thanks to snowmobile traffic from nearby towns. Is it all like this? Were the reports wrong? In 2013 I kicked myself for not running hard the first 35miles when the trail was still good. When it wasn’t covered in 10” of thick powder. I wondered if I’d be doing that again, but managed to stick with the plan and go out slow. <br />
<span style="color: orange;"><br />“But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” Romans 8:25</span><br />
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The constant struggle of patience and pace is hushed by the beauty of the pine flanked trail. The mist now glistening in jeweled ice coating everything around us. I glance over, Mike’s smile says what my words don't. I have been craving this peacefulness since last year. It has been worth the wait, for all of us.<br />
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The farther we get from IFalls the looser the trail becomes. Warm conditions and human powered traffic are slowly churning the trail into mashed potatoes. It’s subtle. But the increased thirst & hunger are telltale signs of the building difficulty. <br />
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Groups of racers space out as the hours pass, but I somehow keep yo-yoing back & forth on the trail with Bonnie Busch. Each time we meet she shouts out an encouraging “that’a girl”. Kind words that would lift me long after they were spoken. <br />
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We round a corner to the smell of sap and pine needles so striking that I’m forced to stop, allowing it fill my lungs in what can only be described as the freshest of air. Amazing yet conflicting. My invigorated breaths are the result of vast logging clear-cut that I can see as I peer deeper into the woods. <br />
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People ask what I think about when I run these types of events. I often tell them “everything & nothing” but at this moment on the trail I’m stuck on the impact of industry, man vs. nature. It’s heavy.<br />
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Mike and I arrive at Gateway (mile 35) hours behind schedule. Getting here has been work & I’m “hangry” but thankfully we aren’t spent heading into night 1. As we go about preparing for the dark miles ahead, other racers around us are already making tough decisions...To fight onward or return to fight another year. I hurt for them.<br />
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Earlier in the day we passed a wolf kill that had happened right on the trail. Snow sprinkled red with blood, tufts of fur and aggressive paw prints left as a testimony to the brutal takedown. In a race that can eat it’s young, sometimes the atmosphere at a checkpoint can feel like the wolf kill looked. That was Gateway when we arrived.<br />
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I will not be taken down, my hope will not be swallowed. <br />
<span style="color: orange;"><br />“For it is you who light my lamp; the Lord my God lightens my darkness. For by you I can run against a troop, and by my God I can leap over a wall.” Psalm 18:28 & 29</span><br />
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After catching up with loved ones, some warm food and the usual shoe/gear changes, our fight continues. Into the night we go.<br />
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<h3>
<b><span style="color: orange;">Gateway-Melgeorge's</span></b></h3>
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<b><span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></b></div>
As the darkness settles in, the senses dull and give way to efficient routine. A metronome of one more foot fall & trekking pole planted in the snow covered trail. <br />
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Conversations dwindle as Mike and I make our way through the wee hours. Each of us slowly making peace with the fact that the trail conditions aren’t going to improve. The going will be slow, but for those brief moments we’re flying downhill sledding on the pulks, it won’t matter.<br />
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I haven’t bothered to look at my watch much, but my internal jukebox has “Africa” by Toto on repeat for the last three hours as the snow is coming down. Perhaps it’s my brain’s tired attempt at staying warm in the damp cold. <br />
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Eventually a group of us end up clustered together as we make our way past sheep ranch road. Tosh’s jukebox is stuck on “Papa loves Mambo”. His voice echos in the dark as he belts it out. Songs are traded in a short partying caravan in the woods. <br />
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Tunnel vision is deep in the hours before first-light breaks. I wake walking in my sleep several times. The promise of rest and a warm camp meal in my drop-bag at Melgeorge’s keeps me going into the morning. <br />
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Morning comes and Mike & I have a moment. Last year we were crossing Elephant lake as day was breaking, this year we were well into morning without even seeing it. I know the math of pace per hour isn’t good. <br />
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The stunning views of still rivers & trees dusted with fresh snow can’t silence the ringing reality as we finally reach the lake. The wind has kicked up and I’m quickly getting cold from the fatigue & added exposure. I purposely put my head down & trek hard across the open expanse, distancing myself from Mike. I have been traveling in horrible footing for 27hrs with no sleep. All I want is sleep. Rest.<br />
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Tears stream down my face as I cross the water praying/pleading for hope. All of the hours I planned for rest & to reboot were spent just getting here. <br />
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<h3>
<b><span style="color: orange;">Melgeorge's</span></b></h3>
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<b><span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></b></div>
I check in then head to the cabin where my Jeremiah is waiting. Our eyes meet and the words escape him “oh my gosh, you’re so tired”. We hug. Every minute has to be intentional, but I’m in a daze. Just trying to get my camp meal down is a huge effort. Mike arrives at the cabin and I do my best to hide how broken I am, but I’m pretty sure I just come across pissed. As he gets things sorted I lie down for the shortest nap of all time. <br />
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The cabin is so cozy. If I quit my race right here I could get the rest I desperately need and have a really enjoyable weekend with my husband and friends in the northwoods. My alarm goes off & I just lie there yelling at myself to get out of the bed. COME ON! Then my internal jukebox flips on again, this time to a favored poem.<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">Get up.<br />The ground is your reward<br />It will hold you when you are done.<br />Cancel all forks you are not done.<br />Put a silencing finger to the lips of all singing fat ladies.<br />This is not over.<br />Reel in all finish lines,<br />Steal the sound of the metal ringing hanging in the air and put it back in the bell.<br />One more round we go,<br />Get up.<br /><br />A Letter To Remind Myself Who I Am (excerpt) | By Shane Koyczan </span><br />
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We’re out of time as the cut-off for leaving the checkpoint comes crashing in. Despite the almost insurmountable struggle Mike & I manage to get out of there. 12 minutes to spare...12minutes. In a 60hr race.<br />
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<h3>
<b><span style="color: orange;">The Journey to Ski-Pulk</span></b></h3>
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<b><span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></b></div>
The terrain only gets tougher from here as the climbs build as much as the fatigue does. My memory from this point on goes from blurred to crystal clear, then back again, but here is what I remember.<br />
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Michael and I stay paced together for a few hours after Melgeorges, but as day two goes on I can tell he’s working harder than he should this early in the race. It’s time to race separately and so it goes. <br />
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As sunset approaches I get to share some of the sweetest miles with Kari, an Arrowhead rookie whose countenance radiates joy no matter how sore or tired she may be. Somewhere in those miles I realize that my fatigue has turned to fervor. Another dark and lonely night is coming, but I’m ready for it.<br />
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Darkness falls and I can tell I’m making up time. Precious time that could allow for a nap at Ski-pulk, if I push hard enough. I cover my headlamp with my mitten and gaze ahead & then behind me hoping to see the light of another racer somewhere. But there is nothing. Absolute solitude for hours.<br />
<span style="color: orange;"><br />“And behold,I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:20b</span> <br />
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A few more hours pass and I start noticing that there are fresh fatbike tracks ahead of me. Signs of life.Then there’s the blinking red light. It’s Wilson! A veteran on foot racing on bike this year. This was not a good year for bikers, yet Jim was still laughing & making jokes nearly 100 miles into it. I count myself blessed for the short miles we shared together. <br />
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My spirits are lifted as I make it closer and closer to ski-pulk. Helen Scotch materializes out of nowhere behind me and after a quick greeting, just as quickly vanishes over an uphill. <br />
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Then the flux starts. I go from beastmode, to barely awake, to wanting to throw up. I need sleep & it can’t wait. Less than 40min at Melgeorge’s wasn’t going to cut it. With my head on the cooler in my pulk and most of my body trailing off of it, I shut my eyes. 15 minutes later I’m recovered enough to keep eating and moving again. <br />
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Every now & then I hear three children playing in the woods. Not wanting to use any music until after ski-pulk I do my best to logically talk myself out of their presence, but I’ve reached my limit. They are freaking me out.<br />
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Music is my company as I cover the final miles into ski-pulk checkpoint -mile 110.<br />
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<h3>
<b><span style="color: orange;">Ski-pulk to the Finish</span></b></h3>
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<b><span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></b></div>
Ski-pulk is so tucked into the woods that it’s approach is deceptive, you just happen upon it. It is an oasis to my tired body. I’ve made up 4 hours since leaving Melgeorge's buying myself some time to sleep. <br />
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A short nap, some caffeine and a brief chat with my Sweetie later I leave ski-pulk revived. Into date three I go.<br />
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Another morning breaks, but this one is different. The sky is bright pink and it only gets better as time goes on. I’ve spent the last two days trekking in the gutter of the trail dragging my pulk over knee high sticks because that’s the only place where the snow was even remotely packed. Finally the temps and traffic have dropped enough to firm up the trail. It seems impossible, but I am somehow running. 115 miles into the race, dragging a loaded sled. <br />
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Todd passes me on snowmobile just as the weather begins to turn (red sky at morning) and lets me know Helen is just ahead. I got the update from the guys at ski-pulk that I was 3rd place for women. Meaning that if I could catch up to and pass Helen I can take 2nd. <br />
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I don’t want to be the best, I just want to beat my best. Since there would be no beating my time from last year with these trail conditions, the best I could hope for was a better placement than last year, so I kept pushing. <br />
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It’s taken awhile, but I pass Helen and immediately begin planning in my tired head what to say that will encourage her when she passes me again. <br />
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There is nothing sexy about the trail at the end of Arrowhead. It’s flat, mostly straight and mix of scrub pine in marshy areas or areas of tall pine forests. The effort and monotony really take their toll. <br />
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It is in one of these pine forests that the snow really starts coming down and “All the Heavens” by Third Day begins playing on my shuffle. Snowflakes fall as the lyrics talk about how the heavens cannot hold you Lord. I can feel the presence of my God so tangibly in that moment. My arms raise in praise, my pace quickens.<br />
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Then the wheels fall off. I reach a marshy exposed area and the wind begins pelting my face with snow. The exhaustion is mounting and eating has gotten tougher & tougher. I’m ready for it to be over. </div>
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Then somewhere in the final struggle to the finish I’m reminded of the day my grandmother died. It was our first snow of this season and it pelted me in the face just like this as I ran into work that morning. Last year when her health was failing I named my pulk with her middle name because it’s white, just like her hair was and a silent strength, just like she was. <br />
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I looked behind me on the trail and the only thing that wasn’t fighting me was the tension of the sled,125 miles in, it now felt weightless. Like her, another blessing. <br />
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I did my best to suffer gracefully those last miles to the finish, but it wasn’t pretty. Reaching the finish line I collapsed, my yearly humbling complete.<br />
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I thought I was exhausted when I finished last year, this year ratcheted that up another level. I can’t wait to go back. :)</div>
RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-44333346233976074582012-09-25T00:53:00.004-07:002012-09-25T12:10:16.344-07:00Superior 100 Race Report | 2012Over the course of two sunrises & sunsets my life was changed. I am humbled. Jubilant. And still 2 weeks later...somewhat dazed. There are numerous sections of the race that I can't for the life of me remember and others whose details I will never forget.<br />
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Here is what I can/wish to recount of the amazing journey...<br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><b>37hours: 30minutes: 12seconds | 41,000ft of Elevation Change | 103.3 Miles</b></span><br />
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Standing at the pre-race meeting race director John Storkamp jokingly plunks away at a piano. The dreary single key tune drones out in what can only be described as a death march. This, he tells us, is what the race may become to some of you, that is, if you're "one of the lucky ones". He goes on to explain/encourage/warn us...In the past we have had between a 50% and 60% finishers rate... Reflective XXXs mark cliffs, be careful.... We'll do everything we can to help you be successful, but don't be stupid or hate the reeper should he have to end your race early...Good luck! All healthy doses of reality met with laughter and a general understanding of what we're facing come morning.<br />
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At dinner my awesome crew (hubby & his parents),pacer (ultra buddy Rick) and I talk race strategy. Stay as little time as possible at the aid stations, beware of the chair, put one foot in front of the other until they cross the finish line, hopefully within the time constraints.<br />
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I toss, I turn, I try to think about everything else but starting a 100miler in the morning. At some point I fall asleep and wake 15minutes before my alarm goes off. My pre-race nerves now at the surface are met with a God-sent calm. I give my Beloved a kiss before boarding the bus to the starting line...I won't see him or any of my crew until I'm 20miles in.<br />
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On the bus I manage to eat all of my breakfast without much trouble, I trade words with Ray the well accomplished ultrarunner seated beside me. I confess to him that this is my first 100. He reminds me to start slow & slow down, something Rick had already urged. I take note. As the sun begins to rise over Lake Superior, my eyes close and I somehow snag some Z's before arriving at Gooseberry State Park.<br />
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Rick graciously meets me at the starting line. We go over a few more race logistics. His words, encouragement & pacing advice help me to focus. I am at peace. I am ready.<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but victory rests with the Lord. -Proverbs 21:31</span><br />
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We're off... and from that moment on I no longer think of the 103.3 miles ahead of me. Just one aid station at a time until there are no more left or I have nothing left.<br />
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The morning sunlight sets the hills & changing leaves aglow. I settle into what I feel is a smart pace near the back of the pack being mindful to keep my heart rate as low as possible. The terrain is like candy to me, but if I eat it too soon or too quickly it will only bring trouble.<br />
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Mile 9.7 - Split Rock aid station comes & goes. I decide then that even though my hydration pack can typically last me 20miles I will refill it at every AS. Part of my early race strategy is to keep my pace in check by hydrating when I want to be hauling and snapping pictures. Eye candy.<br />
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Being conversational is a solid method to keep tabs on your exertion
level and I am blessed to be paced with a handful of well humored & talkative ultra
loving crazies. Over the course of the race these wonderful crazies
would become my comrades.<br />
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After scanning the woods for a few miles I find a lady approved place to wee, I leave the pack and trek off into the sticks. My shorts hit my ankles then I hear shouts of "hey, you're going the wrong way!". As I glance back thru the woods expecting to see other racers I see a several people carrying flags and it dawns on me, I am dead last. These are race volunteers clearing the route. Start slow & slow down...Check?<br />
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A little concerned & not about to be last after the first aid station I allow myself to run in order to catch up with everyone else. I inform them of my DFL status and the flag bearers swiftly behind us, they are as shocked as I am, but we quickly get over it and onto the ruggedness...</div>
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We make our way toward the Beaver Bay aid station and the superior hiking trail starts to display some of her jagged ways. Every toe stubbing root or rock, every hill climb, erased by beauty.<br />
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Reaching Beaver Bay I am met by the smiling faces of my loved ones. It's invigorating. We stumble thru trying to refill my pack with water and fuel efficiently, but by next aid station that is already fixed. This is the joy of having a crew full of analytical thinkers, fixers.<br />
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Leaving BB Tony is leading the pack. He is more full of life at 65 than most people I know half his age. As the terrain becomes more technical he shares with me what he loves about ultra running. The sounds. Up until this point I had been running music-free, but not really listening. After his comment the symphony of the trail comes alive and so do I.<br />
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The roots underfoot lift up the soil making a hollow and as our feet fall upon it, it sounds like orchestrated taps on a bongo drum. The slivers of rock that have broken off of cliff walls, while horrid footing (especially for a minimalist) enchant us. They sound like seashell or bamboo chimes blowing in the wind. The breeze fills the trees and the forest has breath. With each note I know my Creator lives and I can feel Him there.<br />
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A few aid stations tick by, my crew finds a rhythm and each time the pack is refilled (added weight) I focus on keeping good form. So far so good. All of my training to get here is the perfect fit and smiling comes easy. I continue to eat before I'm hungry, drink before I'm thirsty & while this has me feeling somewhat full, I'm on track.<br />
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Between miles 24-30 the wind begins to build, the air temp starts to drop and I hear thunder off in the distance. It's tough to get a feel for the wind direction in the woods. I am reminded<span style="color: orange;"> <span class="text 1Thess-5-18" id="en-ESV-29623">"give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." -1 Thessalonians 5:18</span></span> The rain may come, I have no control over it, but the only thing that matters right now is making it to the next aid station. I keep charging on.<br />
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The torrent wind makes tornadoes out of the dusty soil on the bluffs. It's obnoxious. Then I catch up with Shelly just as the skies open pelting us with cold rain. She is a graceful runner, easy to follow and the time passes quickly. We're both able to laugh off the North Shore's unpredictable weather before the skies clear again.<br />
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Next up the Tettagouche aid station. Steve Q. had mentioned to me that he'd be volunteering there and that I'd see him right after The Drainpipe. I didn't know what he meant by drainpipe, but I knew where Tettagouche was. <br />
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Now I know...<br />
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Fiercely pitched, worn dirt patches now slicked by rain with the sporadic gnarly boulder or log protruding thru the surface in feeble hopes of keeping you from toppling over on your way down. It, along with many other areas along the SHT was ridiculous. Logic tells you this shouldn't be a trail, but the markers assure you it is. This kind of terrain really gets me going. I love being the plinko chip and I can't really explain why. <br />
<br />
Coming into the Tettagouche AS (Mile 35) I was stoked and nearing cloud 9.<br />
<br />
Exiting it the sun was starting to set, I mentally tried to prepare for the coming darkness and battle with fatigue. The symphony quieted by the falling dusk is accentuated by the fact I am primarily alone now. But it was here that I would summit cloud 9.<br />
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<br />
<span style="color: orange;"><span class="userContent">I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where
does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and
earth. Psalm121:1-2</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">Technical terrain doesn't lend itself to a lot of looking up. When I did my eyes were delighted with the familiar. I was in the middle of nowhere but knew exactly where I was. Growing up my parents had taken me to this state park and section of trail many times. I was comforted by the sights and overjoyed by the flashbacks of memories. </span><br />
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Rick had warned me that the highest highs are often followed by some of the lowest lows and it is a challenge to meter them in order to keep things level. He was right. I knew I had let my high moment peak too high when it happened.<br />
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Thankfully when I approached the corresponding low was also when we were allowed to pick up a pacer. Rick was such a blessing here as I struggled thru feeling overwhelmed. I remembered Maggie hitting this point when I crewed her thru her 100. At some point the rest of the race is going to feel vast, like more than you're ready to take on & that just drags you down. Physically I felt great for being 45ish miles in, sure things ached off and on, that's just part of it, but mentally it was time to go to war. With myself.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: orange;">"but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31</span><br />
<br />
I pulled thru that just as we pulled into the Finland aid station. The night darkness now blanketing everything turned cold. So I went steazy. I'd officially reached the point of not caring what I looked like. Comfort reigned supreme & this is what it looked like. <br />
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Remember the candy? It was time. I had been holding off on my treats knowing that I'd need the boost later in the race. 50miles in...time for music & a little running. Past the low and somewhat still good humored sandwich in hand I headed into the darkness. Alone. I would do my best to cover ground well in the next 13 miles before picking up Rick again. Jeremy had selected Promontory as the track for my first steps back on the trail and from there it was on and my brain was off.<br />
<br />
This is where the blur begins and my timeline starts to get fuzzy. From here I mostly just remember shorter & shorter snip-its. <br />
<br />
Like arriving at Sonju aid station with what was left of the aforementioned sandwich tucked between my ta-tas. I like running with free hands & that was the only available pocket. I laughed at myself before the aid station worker laughed at me and kindly refilled my pack.<br />
<br />
I also remember the reflective XXX's. It's a little unnerving to cast your headlamp out into the distance only to have it met with pure blackness. Cliffs. The risk kept me vigilant and that helped keep me awake the first night. An unexpected blessing.<br />
<br />
For eons I could hear the cheers from the Crosby Manitou AS. The feeling of being so close, yet so far away. The switchback down to it took forever, but reaching it was sweet.<br />
<br />
Rick took the lead as we departed Crosby and it didn't take long before we came upon this... <br />
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<br />
This is the start of a very long boardwalk that would take us thru an open water marsh area. When we reached it we both stopped. Half of it was completely broken and to add insult to injury the remaining board was wet. It looked to be waist deep below the plank and all we could see beyond that was our breath mingling with the fog hovering over the mirky water & the occasional fringe of swamp grass. Rick looked back at me and I could tell he was unsure or less than thrilled. Perhaps both. I offered to go first, but he was a good pacer & tactically trudged on.<br />
<br />
Night one was beautiful in its simplicity. Follow the halo of your headlamp, stay warm, stay fed, stay hydrated. Stay awake. I did.<br />
<br />
Though I questioned myself once when I thought I saw a runner less than a hundred yards away before he disappeared right before me, for 1/2mile I was freaked out & convinced I'd had my first hallucination. I eventually caught up with him and thanked him for being real, we had a good laugh about that.<br />
<br />
And I questioned myself again when Rick & I found ourselves on a pine choked trail. I hadn't seen any trail markers indicating a turn, either had he and the SHT is obnoxious so even though this section had me wanting a machete I didn't think we were off track. In fact I was just happy the pine trees made me smell better. Rick decided to go back and see if we had missed any flags, we had & back on the proper route again we went.<br />
<br />
<u><span style="color: orange;"><b>Day Two </b></span></u><br />
<br />
There is something special about seeing two sunrises during the same race. I had been looking forward to & waiting for this moment for a long time. It brought with it new hope, some energy & more rain.<br />
<br />
I remember standing under an aid station tent, grabbing a cup of soup, burning the heck out of my tongue. Soaked & burnt I must have looked rough because one of the aid station workers came over to inform me that the next section is a little more technical with some good climbing & I needed to decide if I could continue or not. She seemed shocked when I immediately laughed at that & said I'm going. She had just described the Superior Hiking Trail. It's all like that and the thought of dropping was never an option to me.<br />
<br />
The grey skies continued.<br />
<br />
I could feel the blisters, but they didn't seem like something that needed to be taken care of yet and I didn't want to lose any time in the aid stations so I ignored them for a long while as I splashed thru unavoidable puddles in the pouring rain on my way to Temperance River aid station. Here I would get a sock change, a view of the damage & the best foot rub I've ever had from my mother in law.<br />
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After removing my soggy shoes and socks I was surprised at the condition of my feet. They had gone from the been in the bathtub too long pruney stage & right ahead to trench foot. The crease lines were deep, the blisters barely visible thru the pale white skin, yet very much there. Sitting in the chair felt amazing, fresh socks felt amazing, getting out of the chair & back on the trail again, not so amazing. Beware of the chair.<br />
<br />
The sun broke way and we were on the climb up Carlton Peak. This side was...difficult. Between the exertion of scaling the countless boulders on the way up and no sleep I was starting to see sparkles. Getting past the peak I refocused working on fueling/hydration to help with the glitter, it helped some, but then I became distracted by my feet. They had begun to feel every little thing and wouldn't stop for the next 20miles.<br />
<br />
At the next aid station I grabbed a set of trekking poles, something I had never trained with, but I was desperate to distribute some of the pressure on my soles to anywhere else. This worked for a while and I was able to keep a more consistent however slow pace.<br />
<br />
Sooner or later it didn't matter what I did, it just hurt. With each footstep the deep creases in my soles pulled away at the blistered beneath them. Then came the death march. My battle song. In second Corinthians it says that my King's power is made perfect in weakness...as I planted trekking pole after pole literally lifting my body off the ground over countless roots & rocks, I was weak, but His strength was sufficient for me. <br />
<br />
I am still humbled by how Rick took care of me while pacing those miles. It takes a special person to keep a suffering one company. To listen to their grunts, groans & f-bombs of discomfort. And to not be offended when you suddenly stop talking and put the headphones on in an attempt to try to numb out. He is that person and everything I had hoped for in a pacer.<br />
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<br />
Night 2 fell on familiar territory, 15miles of trail I had covered in a 50k two years prior. This was a double edged sword. Comforting to know where I was. Discouraging to know what climbs & switchbacks were yet to come. Looking at my watch time & time again I was convinced I wouldn't make the cutoff. The thought of not getting the belt buckle or finishers sweatshirt was so frustrating. I knew I'd finish, but that didn't keep me from doubting/believing I'd make it in time.<br />
<br />
My brain now deteriorated to that of a 4yr old repeatedly asking "why?", I asked Rick again and again if we'd make it on time. He estimated we'd be there at 9:30. How the man can do that kind of math given the varied terrain & pace is beyond me, but he was right. <br />
<br />
My ipod died just as we caught up to a string of other runners, by then I had discovered that I could stay quieter by biting my neck warmer, my wooden spoon for pain. Their determined pace kept me going. I waited for the boardwalks on a downhill, I knew that meant I was in the last mile. It took forever but we finally hit them.<br />
<br />
Everything in me wanted to sprint all the way to the finish when we got into Lutsen, but that was too far for this tired body. When I got to the corner of Caribou Highlands (the finishing "chute") I said aloud "okay my God & King let's do this" and forced my battered feet to run before jumping up & down on the timing pads at the finish line. Something I'm still not sure how I managed to do, but I did it and my race was done. Bliss.<br />
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<br />
To my Beloved, Family and Friends who came out to support me I am grateful beyond words. You have seen me as a sheep shorn and still supported me the whole way thru, this blows me away.Thank you!<br />
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Finishing something like this opens up the doors of what I had limited on being possible and that encourages me to dream big. So I am.<br />
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Next up... Arrowhead? I hope!RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-40285053715151480372012-05-01T11:25:00.000-07:002012-05-01T11:27:10.517-07:00Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's spring. The trees blossom, fresh blades of grass make their way thru the leaf covered forest floor & as the weekly mileage amplifies in preparation for summer running so does the calling of the trail. If you are a lover of single-track you understand.<br />
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Somewhere between the first blizzard and the final thaw I became innately familiar with the city again. This happens every year. I leave my front door and know how to route 6,10 or 20 miles in pretty much every direction. </div>
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There is a certain degree of comfort that comes with that. Comfort in knowing what pace it takes to avoid a string of red lights, which gas stations sell the best granola bars & chilled water by the gallon or the steepest cloverleaf to pound out some hill repeats in.</div>
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The sound of traffic, the chirp of street lights & the constant whirr of wind the symphony for my feet. I love the city I live & run in. I love that each spring the streets come alive with people training for the marathon. But eventually those very conveniences, those symphonies, begin to wear making me feel trapped and crowded. </div>
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I long for silence where the only man-made sound I hear is my footsteps in the leaves. To smell the green prairie grasses instead of gas or fast-food greases. The chance to actually get lost, to discover something new. To go on an adventure in any direction, then find that familiar trail that leads you back to where you started.</div>
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Last week I went back to where it all started. Well, back to where all of my trail-running started. After four hours of mostly single-track, some strategic fell-running around flooded areas and stopping to take pictures instead of for a stoplight, I was free.</div>
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<span class="text Song-2-12" id="en-NIV-17567">"Flowers appear on the earth;</span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Song-2-12">the season of singing has come,</span></span><span class="text Song-2-12"> the cooing of doves</span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Song-2-12">is heard in our land.</span></span><span class="text Song-2-13" id="en-NIV-17568"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>The fig tree forms its early fruit; </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"></span><span class="text Song-2-13">the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.</span></span><span class="text Song-2-13"> Arise, come, my darling; </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"></span><span class="text Song-2-13">my beautiful one, come with me.” Song of Songs 2:12 & 13</span></span></div>
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</div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-66373597939008965292012-03-27T08:43:00.020-07:002012-03-27T13:56:14.784-07:00The birthday run that was...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pHjEilpMoAnQM6U6WPEfPSlEzmwXDQwXyphBt5s1l4nt_d1X0-XS4LSBmp5zRa9yKsD6g_nbUGGwEqRX83ybiITLAtYV8qqEl71XfUSilewrDy_4IIVBjLJGB5bWhK8nRzYUFUUKoYU/s1600/EDSCN5531.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pHjEilpMoAnQM6U6WPEfPSlEzmwXDQwXyphBt5s1l4nt_d1X0-XS4LSBmp5zRa9yKsD6g_nbUGGwEqRX83ybiITLAtYV8qqEl71XfUSilewrDy_4IIVBjLJGB5bWhK8nRzYUFUUKoYU/s400/EDSCN5531.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724614962108335746" border="0" /></a><br />A year ago I woke before sunrise. Got in my car & drove to Maggie's. Greeted my running buddies while attempting (as best as you can at 5am.) to get them jazzed about the miles to be covered that day. Then I got in my car and drove home...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This post is for you injured.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">After sending my friends off on what was to be a joint "years in miles" birthday run for Jon & I, I drove home with a heavy heart. Still dealing w/ tendinitis and treating a stress fracture meant I was unable to join them. It sucked. Hard core.<br /><br />Hearing the accounts of triumph as everyone ushered Jon thru his first ultra and how epic the day was, while a joyous thing, didn't bring me any. It felt more like torture.<br /><br />They say that grief has five stages: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression & Acceptance. Being injured I went thru every single one of these.<br /><br />Fast forward a year and things are very different. There is joy. Instead of being the injured one, I watched as my friends either had to bow out or taper way back on their mileage during our Birthday Run because of it. A certain part of my heart suffers with them because I know the struggle, the battle for hope, the day when everything feels right again and you can fly with unhindered wings.<br /><br />Perspective is a beast when you're in the battle. So take it from someone who is past it & someone who will experience it again... there is a light at the end of the tunnel for you.<span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11 </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">"Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm37:4<br /></span><br />1 year of tendinitis & 3 months of stress fracture later...grace carried me 31 miles on Saturday. It was a long time coming, but <span style="font-weight: bold;">the joy is so much greater having overcome. </span>The once heavy heart sang and I had the blessing of great friends to share the song with.<br /><br /></div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAIionZ3HYzxDiyv9IbsyMUB2MnsH4wzyJsZkfiF78rca4eEz7-EIWifIp4zz8pvwPZ9YI2l1l316_Yrz-L601FU8zb-H1W-QRA6rQ2ArCJG60ggLeVEkor5WcI9jEp6t_996daP42y30/s1600/EDSCN5537.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAIionZ3HYzxDiyv9IbsyMUB2MnsH4wzyJsZkfiF78rca4eEz7-EIWifIp4zz8pvwPZ9YI2l1l316_Yrz-L601FU8zb-H1W-QRA6rQ2ArCJG60ggLeVEkor5WcI9jEp6t_996daP42y30/s320/EDSCN5537.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724614626257308002" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguvEXP7Z-2btoe4fWpWONyv2Mg-dWIyxO_wvGfsA0pahXH1l-_XWyPsi7LTawzcPeZHcSCEQkc6sqI7uJw_fnZ_k6kU5_JX1l8nx9yeQl7F24IURZD-wI00BQ8jA7XRXON2JbS8At0UZU/s1600/EDSCN5546.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguvEXP7Z-2btoe4fWpWONyv2Mg-dWIyxO_wvGfsA0pahXH1l-_XWyPsi7LTawzcPeZHcSCEQkc6sqI7uJw_fnZ_k6kU5_JX1l8nx9yeQl7F24IURZD-wI00BQ8jA7XRXON2JbS8At0UZU/s320/EDSCN5546.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724614232122695026" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />We started out in the cool morning air, hills blanketed in thick fog, it was beautiful. As the sun rose melting away the mist, so did our miles, giving way to blue skies.<br /><br />Miles disappear when the mind is occupied and the sights are stunning. This run was a perfect expression of that.<br /><br />Before I knew it Jon, Erin, Penny, Erik & Lou had finished their marathon training miles and it was time to partake in what I hope will become a birthday tradition: post-run BACON & "better than sex" cake.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_VmIluznNFCXPFxBuSvvv4q_trenQiNBjLgj1FPuTn3dvH7ltM1XijZALVzYMy40X_QY6N07L7JuDqmdOtDZHbPoRtUdgQFtrBtBMOJti-aa3-O0JIoo30GJAD_ODmUYw-YEwHlzC2M/s1600/EDSCN5528.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_VmIluznNFCXPFxBuSvvv4q_trenQiNBjLgj1FPuTn3dvH7ltM1XijZALVzYMy40X_QY6N07L7JuDqmdOtDZHbPoRtUdgQFtrBtBMOJti-aa3-O0JIoo30GJAD_ODmUYw-YEwHlzC2M/s320/EDSCN5528.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724613840073246146" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jxPATpB43HCevLyBCe76XGMLBT4uCtsw0Cixq_YqCzKwmMnbwEy2PtUdwnrTrdQ6swafhyaH-NUeZMWwxtsPZkRVQSJF5jWbsJzRt6f-OyeKwqVCFL4k1n3zpVTqa0SDe0j5CUQelhI/s1600/EDSCN5536.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jxPATpB43HCevLyBCe76XGMLBT4uCtsw0Cixq_YqCzKwmMnbwEy2PtUdwnrTrdQ6swafhyaH-NUeZMWwxtsPZkRVQSJF5jWbsJzRt6f-OyeKwqVCFL4k1n3zpVTqa0SDe0j5CUQelhI/s320/EDSCN5536.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724613595817047490" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RdkniugMFeVDSMgG3mzjZoV9PPcxhllGBAs3swYo8QsD7INnRr6qd133Xpnb3_Px5GGHpPZlvKaZJZNwNhrOU4l5BtQ1vjXj3a8JVpwF1W01bmLfuNNXqp9yvvpgVjUhZm2kbHluksw/s1600/E2012-03-24_09-07-07_714.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RdkniugMFeVDSMgG3mzjZoV9PPcxhllGBAs3swYo8QsD7INnRr6qd133Xpnb3_Px5GGHpPZlvKaZJZNwNhrOU4l5BtQ1vjXj3a8JVpwF1W01bmLfuNNXqp9yvvpgVjUhZm2kbHluksw/s320/E2012-03-24_09-07-07_714.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724612771133545522" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rtgkULklAwYhyphenhyphenbOH3eK21IrKoBpb5I0fXV5BDnWtGVkRPUD_16KXRC9hgnILF5S236jpkkepcYh9UVjiXuwqSRZks6BkeYw3r8LX6bqY8rcsivDj7dmzkelyltzC_SiHHR_4R7oHNwo/s1600/EDSCN5560.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rtgkULklAwYhyphenhyphenbOH3eK21IrKoBpb5I0fXV5BDnWtGVkRPUD_16KXRC9hgnILF5S236jpkkepcYh9UVjiXuwqSRZks6BkeYw3r8LX6bqY8rcsivDj7dmzkelyltzC_SiHHR_4R7oHNwo/s320/EDSCN5560.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724612471780239458" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSm37fE3MYWen9jc008uM8m5JJmY9HP4gxKo2GrwcP_LmXEU2HMOsSzcHT0thgLWoQe7pXHcdLIBTQ_zYxf53-8r5h_WvSzRa5whJnw5OZPq653flEqWopCNAgJXz6c3pbctehAX7w5sM/s1600/ERachMag.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSm37fE3MYWen9jc008uM8m5JJmY9HP4gxKo2GrwcP_LmXEU2HMOsSzcHT0thgLWoQe7pXHcdLIBTQ_zYxf53-8r5h_WvSzRa5whJnw5OZPq653flEqWopCNAgJXz6c3pbctehAX7w5sM/s320/ERachMag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724612125683681730" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Then it was time for Maggie & I to run. Maggie, who is currently 5 months pregnant, was kind enough to crew us the first 18miles before joining me for the final 13. Thanks again!<br /><br />Despite warm temps near 70 in March, that's not salt on our faces. It's frosting.<br /><br />*Insert inside joke here about warpaint*<br /><br />Ready for battle, we set off in the sunshine.<br /><br />Turns out the afore mentioned bacon & BTS cake don't help an already iffy system. Shocking I know, but I wanted the calories and figured what better run than my birthday run to try earning the "stoop in the woods" ultra merit badge. TMI? Get over it.<br /><br />Getting over that enough to maintain a decent pace was slow, but thankfully Maggie & Peanut weren't in a hurry. Yet.<br /><br />When the temps dropped over 20 degrees in five minutes & the winds went from 10mph to gusts of 35mph jet cooled by the freshly thawed lakes, she got the faster miles she'd patiently been waiting for.<br /><br />I've run in -60f windchills and blizzards, the kind of cold that gives you an icecream headache & attempts to make your eyelashes freeze your eyes shut, but this climate shift was one of the harshest I've faced. A lot of that had to do with the fact that I had no extra layers on me. A light tank & shorts is insufficient in low 40's and 30mph winds, FYI.<br /><br />Several times our eyes met as Maggie looked back to make sure I was still following and our expressions were the same "this is insane, where did this come from?". She'd slow and we'd trade words & chuckles on how nutty it was. Running faster miles than the previous 26 just to keep more than my arms from going completely numb, was rough, but as rough as it was it wouldn't have been the day I'd been waiting for without it. It was the perfect day.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHRO7vpV_i2BLbM5rNCzzTQ0Ju83WXQT-CVSkIfhWnJyxkjZi06xMuMQLoPam96kjwYLE7KPUubIa_fxvrqFdthodxGCCbmmTDtjAyNugmv_wCqMEeke4Jff1G6iwyntKnu8yxH-5arH0/s1600/EDSCN5566-blog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHRO7vpV_i2BLbM5rNCzzTQ0Ju83WXQT-CVSkIfhWnJyxkjZi06xMuMQLoPam96kjwYLE7KPUubIa_fxvrqFdthodxGCCbmmTDtjAyNugmv_wCqMEeke4Jff1G6iwyntKnu8yxH-5arH0/s320/EDSCN5566-blog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724612061263229650" border="0" /></a><br />Your day is coming, persevere and don't lose hope as you wait for it. It's worth it.RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-26835653398614805612012-03-07T07:27:00.021-08:002012-03-07T12:36:39.480-08:00Hunting Down the Unicorn...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7U9p-qoxiiNbE5jIzM5SNrCP2gk18o5_BsUUaOo5KoJDfWeOvP4OUYI-xMVhmetoiQr5V55azfOB3n68hEZ6lkaNtmaJVGhSODv52za_cGefCLHcXO3p4fi79V-b0CUJzheaVjRdMvcc/s1600/The_Last_Unicorn_by_zamzami.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7U9p-qoxiiNbE5jIzM5SNrCP2gk18o5_BsUUaOo5KoJDfWeOvP4OUYI-xMVhmetoiQr5V55azfOB3n68hEZ6lkaNtmaJVGhSODv52za_cGefCLHcXO3p4fi79V-b0CUJzheaVjRdMvcc/s320/The_Last_Unicorn_by_zamzami.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717198047001024130" border="0" /></a><br />What does is mean to hunt down a unicorn? That illusive creature somewhere out in nature, beyond sight, beyond logic. And when, if, you find it... what then?<br /><br />Once again I'm in the pursuit of finding out. Unlike the ethereal white horse with rainbows & glitter trailing from it's tookus, the unicorn I seek is mean. 100miles...then 135miles fierce, domineering in stature, adorned with a single horn that threatens to pierce me to the very ground should I actually come upon it.<br /><br />This quest has translated into training for two races. And two races only.<br /><br />The <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://fall.superiortrailrace.com/">Superior Sawtooth 100</a><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>September 7th. Multiple events on the SHT solidified the Sawtooth's calling. It's a beast with 20,000 ft of ascent and 21,000 ft of decent & the fitting final straw (more like a mammoth redwood) between me and the <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.arrowheadultra.com/index.php">Arrowhead135</a>. Which, pending app. acceptance/qualification will be my second event.<br /><br />The final months of 2011 were the waking from the sleep and the beginning of 2012 the setting fire to the flame. Here is how I'm keeping it stoked...<br /><br />It's been an unusually light snow year, with melting temperatures often following any measurable snowfall. I was still able to run barefoot on grass in December, run some trail in January & February, I also got a handful of stray double digit sub-zero runs in between that, but overall we've been holding at 20-25F on average all winter. This has made getting the opportunity to train while dragging a sled hit or miss, so the tire I began dragging in October I'm still dragging into March. Not as a complaint, just an adaptation.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZF-JLG8O9fS5XjSvE5SOUsC3G5NPADs92Ueq2N5X7J7s5fzHvB5vknbKXqzi7GylLdH8ZHqyMHjJ3KBCiSQ_UlmBbuIIuutRwSlXYTBgUlv33KBWhBHyBj4e5IkpGkN1Gj9Gy4RmqbI/s1600/smallrachtire.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZF-JLG8O9fS5XjSvE5SOUsC3G5NPADs92Ueq2N5X7J7s5fzHvB5vknbKXqzi7GylLdH8ZHqyMHjJ3KBCiSQ_UlmBbuIIuutRwSlXYTBgUlv33KBWhBHyBj4e5IkpGkN1Gj9Gy4RmqbI/s400/smallrachtire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717197908704578242" border="0" /></a> (Thor & Me out on a run in November.)<br /><br />All of the gear I'll need for Arrowhead will mean pulling close to 1/3 of my body weight behind me in a sled for 135 miles. My hope is to have the feeling of that much drag become familiar, almost second nature, and to maintain good form while doing it. I've also got 20k to climb in September just to get there. Dragging the tire (especially on the flats in town) feels like going up hill, <span style="font-weight: bold;">THE ENTIRE TIME</span>. It's perfect. So I've gradually been upping my mileage with the tire on my strength focused weeks and will eventually start weighting it.<br /><br />Last week was one of those strength training weeks. Two days after hashing out 105 pull-ups and 75 split-jerks of increasing weight, I set out with a group of friends on the gravel hills with Thor trailing behind me & a distance PR in my sights.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBRhdeqYEKrh8t5ZrT6LmyJT6q7vaOnBzfLKfOxy-X4HPiEe-BwTLr3pSjCFGMmcs3cLZU-OxqiPRxNuOlcDDSXosx8v0kWHbotD2BGsft9GKYyJ-HiuWeu6qTewwjA9uILJagUaRGIqU/s1600/RHills.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBRhdeqYEKrh8t5ZrT6LmyJT6q7vaOnBzfLKfOxy-X4HPiEe-BwTLr3pSjCFGMmcs3cLZU-OxqiPRxNuOlcDDSXosx8v0kWHbotD2BGsft9GKYyJ-HiuWeu6qTewwjA9uILJagUaRGIqU/s400/RHills.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717197758420127538" border="0" /></a> (Older pic, but same hills.)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhcaNE0k1-fUUjxO4gj0PE6bwaVNCCwWgABvj7UMQSI3LKfC0rWchyVK_U0alVeGMdVob_qBUA3OrqJHxLKhMSPBbOFBYyF_RaHTSKjMhWBmRzgYr7ydA79T8UXZY9Dc1jg9vKa5YFQI/s1600/drifts.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhcaNE0k1-fUUjxO4gj0PE6bwaVNCCwWgABvj7UMQSI3LKfC0rWchyVK_U0alVeGMdVob_qBUA3OrqJHxLKhMSPBbOFBYyF_RaHTSKjMhWBmRzgYr7ydA79T8UXZY9Dc1jg9vKa5YFQI/s200/drifts.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717197652889601858" border="0" /></a>When Maggie and I scouted the planned miles a few days in advance the roads were mostly clear, the footing, deliciously soft & soggy gravel.<br /><br />Then the wind came...blowing the scattering of snow we had gotten overnight into pillow drifts along route waiting for me the next morning. Minimalist me loves conditions like these, Thor dragging me knew it would add to the difficulty and was less than thrilled.<br /><br />We started out facing into a stiff headwind. Added resistance. Every time I hit a drifted section on the road the tire would fill with snow, doubling it's weight. Each time distancing me further and further from my friends. My encouragers & distraction from the drag. The pull on already fatigued muscles threatened defeat. I wished I had a sled. If I'd only known the conditions in the country would've finally been suited for it ahead of time, but it was barren of snow 48hrs ago. I was reminded of Bill Bradley's motto "Show up & Suffer", this described my predicament well.<br /><br />In the miles that followed I was faced with two choices. HTFU or Unclip. Allowing myself to even view one of those as an option is like the crack in an egg, all it takes is a little tap after that and everything comes spilling out. Yes, it was just a training run, but the reality is is that building the mental fortitude to hunt & face down a unicorn doesn't happen at the starting line, it starts now.<br /><br />Saturday I chose to HTFU, welcoming my Savior & Strength Giver into the miles, pushing me, as I pulled, reaching my mileage goal. Bliss.<br /><br />Is it worth it? All so that I can get here...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOIpXorHRnGyuvjeXz1W-7GG1Pm48vOLoQLHkn6-aBC2tZwsZZzERbAsj-AaBMLOJuf38QYN-4rAaHGyn7q7kDTBWR8z3C_L5EmSa5bMcyh2gyqhwUzGXYqN8QK8oPduCABKrOTxIPsCQ/s1600/AHUsignweb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOIpXorHRnGyuvjeXz1W-7GG1Pm48vOLoQLHkn6-aBC2tZwsZZzERbAsj-AaBMLOJuf38QYN-4rAaHGyn7q7kDTBWR8z3C_L5EmSa5bMcyh2gyqhwUzGXYqN8QK8oPduCABKrOTxIPsCQ/s400/AHUsignweb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717197577293055298" border="0" /></a><br />Yes. Even if I don't qualify or get in this year? Yes.<br /><br />Why? Because deep down I know it's what I'm meant to do and my God continues to bless the journey there. I can't explain the desire or the drive. I just know.<br /><br /><sup style="font-weight: bold;" class="versenum" id="en-NIV-28567">"</sup><span style="font-weight: bold;">Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. " 1 Corinthians 9:26</span><br /><br />His timing, His spirit, My Heart, My Legs.RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-73493395033121078302011-11-14T14:13:00.001-08:002011-11-14T14:46:45.700-08:00Keeping it Interesting...<div>When we had new motorcycle tires put on the Kawi this summer I asked to keep the worn out rear, I had other plans for it:</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzX9FE9cm3BrMbnc2eHYx5rET7brxrYM70ewgftr24KQi4jbwDQDRzqc7jlPSRjIh2RfPUTDa-WI1Dze5vh5MNV8quBEW8e6eBSJQAccDW0RRVNa5URtE2sDlFw7kg7r45li3ycNA-9U/s1600/Tire.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzX9FE9cm3BrMbnc2eHYx5rET7brxrYM70ewgftr24KQi4jbwDQDRzqc7jlPSRjIh2RfPUTDa-WI1Dze5vh5MNV8quBEW8e6eBSJQAccDW0RRVNa5URtE2sDlFw7kg7r45li3ycNA-9U/s400/Tire.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674978352439254882" /></a><br /><div>As winter nears so does the "off" season, but I'm keeping it interesting. Yesterday I ran five miles with 10 cloverleaf hill repeats thrown in dragging that & it was awesome! Difficult, well yeah. Confuse many a motorist, without a doubt. But the mile at the end when I unclipped the harness to run free I absolutely flew.<div><div><div><br /></div><div>Someday this body will cover <a href="http://fall.superiortrailrace.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/STR_Elevation_Reduced_8-22-111.jpg">40k of elevation change</a> in 35-ish hours. Someday it will drag a loaded sled <a href="http://www.arrowheadultra.com/index.php">135miles</a> thru the snow in sub-zero temps. When that someday comes I'll be ready.</div></div></div></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-382668107388616412011-11-03T08:26:00.000-07:002011-11-03T08:41:43.947-07:00Icicle Toes & Atmosphere...Getting back into the running rhythm has been slow following Wild Duluth. Between work, family & some big life changes I've had the desire but lacked the free-time to get out for some miles.<div><br /></div><div>This week I promised myself a run, today was that day. Exiting the front door the air was crisp, the grass frosted, the sun sparkling off of glitter dusted leaves. My heart-rate was high, my breathing labored, my toes cold. I felt disappointed that it wasn't the easy fast run I hoped for, then <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ffffff;">Became</span> by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atmosphere_(music_group)">Atmosphere</a> came thru my headphones and I lost myself in the miles. <div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; ">It's no surprise I overslept.<br />Put my boots on and climbed out my tent<br />I didn't see you<br />Assumed you were sleeping<br />immediately start a fire 'cause it's freezing<br /><br />I cant believe we went camping in the cold<br />I'm in the wilderness standing in some snow<br />a late start but we can still catch up<br />you need to wake up<br />we should eat and then pack up<br /><br />that's when I noticed your footprints<br />the snow's fresh and those have been put since<br />what you already up making the rounds?<br />so where you at now? you laid back down<br /><br />the breeze came and it stalled out the flame<br />while I went to your tent and called out your name<br />you didn't answer so i opened up the flap<br />it's just an empty sleeping bag and your backpack<br /><br />I'm looking at your tracks and you<br />took a couple laps round the campground and hoofed down the path<br />I figure you'll return no concern<br />I'ma hold put and try to make this cold wood burn<br /><br />The wind is blowing strong<br />minutes rolling on<br />It's going on at least a half an hour you've been gone<br />it ain't right, start the paranoia<br />I left the campsite to go and search for ya<br /><br />I read the trail your feet made<br />each step was deliberately placed<br />it looks like you know where it leads<br />but i see nothing but leaflets, frozen trees.<br /><br />About a 1/4 mile into the course<br />and another set of tracks appeared next to yours<br />from the North it came outta the thick woods<br />and those footprints belonged to a big wolf.<br /><br />Trying to find service on my cellphone<br />I felt aight with my knife on my belt though<br />I hope the wolf is intimidated by you<br />I wondered if you even knew it was behind you<br /><br />Stalking ya, maybe watching ya<br />waiting for the opportunity to hop on top of ya<br />salivating wanna take you to the stomach<br />in the cartoons you woulda turned into a drumstick<br /><br /><br />And it gets about as bad as it goes<br />'cause I noticed there's a new set of tracks in the snow<br />I understood<br />it doesn't look good<br />your fan club doubled now you've got another wolf<br /><br />And the odds are in favour of the home team<br />why'd you walk off all alone? where you going?<br />it ain't the right time to complain but<br />it feels like I'm trying to find your remains<br /><br />Your footprints grew further apart<br />I knew what that meant and it was hurting my heart<br />It means you started to run so i did the same<br />now my breath's looking like a steam engine train<br /><br />and suddenly your tracks dip off of the path<br />and so did theirs<br />so my knife I grabbed<br />In to the forest expect the worst<br />adrenaline burst disturbed the nerves<br /><br />50 yards into the woods and brush<br />It got so thick that it looked like dusk<br />The air stood serene, sober<br />seemed like a good 15 degrees colder<br /><br /><br />and I'll admit hell yeah I felt fear<br />the sound of my heartbeat was all I could hear<br />looking at the snow it was plain and clear<br />there was a third set of wolf prints where yours disappeared<br /><br />I cant process I don't follow<br />It'd be easier to believe that you were swallowed<br />but no sign of death, no sign of struggle<br />no signs of blood no signs of trouble<br /><br />and the wolves never stopped<br />the tracks kept going and I took off<br />so I don't know how your story ends<br />but I know I'll never go into those woods again<br /><br />It's not that tragic its not a shame<br />You're not the hunted you're not the aim<br />You're just another dog with hunger pains<br />I was so afraid that you'd become the game<br /><br />I forgot to worry about what you became<br />You're not hunted you're not the aim<br />You're just another dog with hunger pains<br />I was so afraid that you'd become the game<br /><br />It's not that tragic it's not a shame<br />You're not the hunted you're not the aim<br />You're just another dog with hunger pains<br />I was so afraid that you'd become the game<br /><br />I forgot to worry about what you became</span><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-82204483757895583152011-10-18T10:32:00.000-07:002011-10-20T07:26:02.395-07:00Wild Duluth 100k | Race Report 2011<div>It's been several days now and I'm still not even sure where to begin. </div><div><br /></div><div>63 rugged miles | over 10,000 feet of climb | 16hrs, 57min, 59sec.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zachpierce/6256204874/" title="P1160542.jpg by zach.pierce, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6032/6256204874_ef1929cd77.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="P1160542.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>"are you tired?" or "are you sore?" Yes. But what most don't understand is that while this race has left me exhausted in ways, I feel more alive in <b>so</b> many others. And with that comes this overriding realization that it is an absolute privilege to be able do what I do. </div><div><br /></div><div>Every mile is a gift from God. Some miles are blissful, some miles are brutal. This is the story of mine...</div><div><br /></div><div>Race morning came early, but I woke calm & ready. It wasn't long before runners were ushered to the starting line, it was invigorating to finally be one of them. There the pre-race meeting went off without a hitch. Many words of caution to mind the leaves on the trail as they're apt to hide roots & rocks. (Something I experienced first hand, but I'll get to that...) then came the reminders to keep an eye out for blue blazes on the trees as well as the extra course markers to be sure you're staying on route. (Something I would find very important later, but I'll get to that...)</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I was on my way, with about 60 other endurance junkies. The energy was palpable, yet focused on the task at hand. After a short jaunt thru town we were on the Superior Hiking Trail (SHT) and the climbing began. </div><div><br /></div><div>Miles 1-6 were an interesting mix of trying to stay close enough to the group ahead of me to avoid getting lost in the dark on unfamiliar trail and to remain upbeat when notable twinges in my calves were making a premature appearance during the uphills. I counted the paved roads the trail crossed during this section in hopes that it would give me a better grasp of where I was on the return trip, this served me well & helped me to refocus. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first few aid stations I was not the best version of myself as I struggled to find my rhythm. Thankfully my stellar crew (Hubby, Maggie & Cory) were still generous enough to put up with my shortness & get me in/out of the stations quickly.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually I let go. Let the pace be whatever it was going to be. Waited for the sun to rise. I had been picturing this sunrise in my mind since I set sights on this race. The view, the stillness of the morning and the cool air on my face erased all of the impatience I had in the climb getting there. </div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTitQT7jQPC_oODq-_uZQ8uA-v7pkRtSMCUEVGFqlJw7y_L4CgKWPLy4xNaweLf857-ZnsLXCu8zfXjMqOi_YIZHl0UfVkj5iNPtsAUA2Bzll1a0Kmh65siRC3mfsVzQKT4Od5WrRsMuY/s400/WDSunriseblog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664896110601493906" />The miles following the sunrise everything come together as I prayed it would earlier. A switch was flipped and my ability was now at harmony with the terrain. Miles 13-20 were some of my bliss where you know that all of the hard training you faced leading up to the event was exactly what you needed. I was doing well.</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJGzZNYUJ54AN8a7Hc0TyFPMx5lmI_Bks7Xf4rTqHOhgC_3YAS5TMKV4GZpjKF3ssW-O8REdXV28SAoulNclPXfKbzuPUygTx-BJx-Cylq_Q4j-c2h7onZX_ZY2ZG3vEq4VqptPlyPh0/s1600/WDleavesblog.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJGzZNYUJ54AN8a7Hc0TyFPMx5lmI_Bks7Xf4rTqHOhgC_3YAS5TMKV4GZpjKF3ssW-O8REdXV28SAoulNclPXfKbzuPUygTx-BJx-Cylq_Q4j-c2h7onZX_ZY2ZG3vEq4VqptPlyPh0/s400/WDleavesblog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664896022322319810" /></a><div>After I took this photo, I didn't take another. The woods in this area were heavily endowed with leaves and despite my best efforts I caught one of the afore mentioned hidden rocks or roots. In a split second I was down. Knees harshly planted first, bruising both, hands second. I've never been so thankful to be wearing full tights & gloves. More startled then hurt, I stood back up & continued on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next up, Ely's Peak... (Header & following images courtesy: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zachpierce/">Zach Pierce</a>)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zachpierce/6255920121/" title="P1170034.jpg by zach.pierce, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6169/6255920121_0986d165af.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="P1170034.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zachpierce/6255659363/" title="P1160514.jpg by zach.pierce, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6050/6255659363_d890b8d27b.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt="P1160514.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zachpierce/6256209432/" title="P1160566.jpg by zach.pierce, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6236/6256209432_c583c05cc4.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt="P1160566.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On the trip out the 100kers came head-to-head w/ the 50kers here, the perfect boost for this difficult section. I began gaining & passing other racers and then an oncoming 50ker let me know I was currently 3rd for women. So regardless of feeling another issue making itself known and not certain of my placement but excited at the potential, I dominated this peak. One of the more arduous climbs in the race was my strongest/most enjoyable. Wasn't smiling at the top, but I sure was at the base on the other side! </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zachpierce/6255802099/" title="P1160736.jpg by zach.pierce, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6094/6255802099_125487a54e.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt="P1160736.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Then the bliss turned to brutal. Leading up to the race I had mentally prepared for my tendinitis to act up again, my quads to fatigue, calves to turn to rocks & hip flexors to wimp out as the miles & elevation added up. Pre-race phantom pains even supported this. But, as with many races the things you expect to be a problem. Aren't. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I made my way toward the marathon distance a cluster of hemorrhoids had me in an increasing amount of pain and unlike the other problematic spots listed above, there is little your body can do to adapt to relieve pain here. For the next <b>40 miles</b> I would battle the cowboy boot that was stiff kicking me in the arse <b>every</b> step. </div><div><br /></div><div>My support crew was invaluable during this time as I struggled to keep going. At this point running the remaining miles seemed overwhelming & at times impossible. Between gravity, bouncing steps, increased heart rate on uphills and jarring downhills I was in a lot of hurt. I also tripped and fell face flat two more times and took a wrong turn losing a mile before reaching the 50k turn-around which only added insult to injury. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I said before, every mile is a gift. Even the uncomfortable ones. So I began praying not for comfort, but for the strength to continue whether that came in body or mind.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>"but those who hope in the Lord will renew their Strength. </b></div><div><b>They will soar on wings like eagles; </b></div><div><b>they will run and not grow weary,</b></div><div><b>the will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Somewhere in the miles that proceeded I found my fight again & it was like a fire. I could feel I was being prayed for and I could feel my loving Savior answering. Such amazing sights filled my eyes, the perfect company I shared, the right music at the right time. All giving me the hope & assurance that I could do this. Another section of bliss.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zachpierce/6256174852/" title="P1160484.jpg by zach.pierce, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6220/6256174852_d14d3c973f.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="P1160484.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>As darkness began to fall so did my energy. Due to cold meds that give me dry mouth & so much climbing my hydration through out was solid, but after many hours of racing food became less & less desirable so I started grabbing what I could get down easily instead of what sounded good. My crew was exceptionally helpful in keeping me fueled along the way. </div><div><br /></div><div>Any concerns I had about night running on such rugged terrain were put to rest when I noticed that the leaf covered trail was easier to define in the dark & any hidden roots/rocks would cast a slight shadow from the headlamplight. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now in the dark, for the most part completely alone aside from the headlamps in the distance zig-zagging their way up the switchbacks, I ran with my soul. Thinking about everything it took to bring me to this moment and how long I'd been dreaming of that finish line. How even though the cowboy boot was giving me such hell, nothing else hurt. </div><div><br /></div><div>The last 10 miles were the longest, I remember having to tell myself aloud to run several times when the general fatigue wanted to take hold. But I wasn't done fighting yet. I could see the flicker of headlamps behind me and the ones ahead of me, so I pushed hoping to catch the light ahead and not be caught myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the last aid station I caught Chris, we traded a few encouraging words, he was so much stronger on the uphills that it didn't take him long to the take lead again. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I neared Duluth I began to count the paved roads I crossed, just as I had on the way out, I was getting close. Once in the city my body ran like it meant everything, the best it could, the fastest it could and then I heard the cheering, the cowbells & the sprint was on. They say if you can sprint at the end of a race you didn't run hard enough during, I say hand me a cowboy boot & then we'll talk. </div><div><br /></div><div>The day didn't go entirely as planned, but I was blessed with the moments I had been dreaming of and finished with a smile on my face. That's all that matters. :)</div><div><br /></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-29426946390711571292011-04-04T08:47:00.000-07:002011-04-04T12:14:15.188-07:00The pilfery of pavement...<div>It took some time, but eventually I got over the jet-lag I had carried back with me from Japan. I adjusted to the cold again. And for the first time in the many months of tendinitis I was starting to see paces in the low 8's on my short-to-mid distance runs and comfortable long runs in the 20+ mile range. Signs of spring began to show themselves and I daydreamed of ultra season. Setting sights solidly on several. Another epic birthday run was in the works, then the snow began to melt and the pavement quickly had it's pilfery. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harsh pain in my left shin shattered the silence of my sleep before the sun had even risen 18 days ago. While a certain degree of soreness is a common companion, a byproduct of my endeavors, I knew instantly that this was different. As tears rolled down my cheek and onto the pillow case I tried to choke down the disappointment. The light at the end of the tendinitis tunnel had turned dark & cast it's injurious light onto the opposite leg.</div><div><br /></div><div>Waiting out the potential of a stress fracture, unable to run again until the pain is gone, is a mental feat more than a physical one. Discouragement and disappointment is harder to treat. The desire to be accepting of another bum leg must outweigh that of self pity, knowing that pity starves hope and clouds faith. </div><div><br /></div><div>Skies cleared on Saturday when Maggie joined me for a speed hike thru the woods and hills of our home terrain. Snow had deterred us from from the trails all winter, but to my reprieve it was hike-able throughout and that made for a beautiful day. Every hill was ours for the taking, whether the trail traversed over it or not, we did.</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjNzwVRP_RdnrGjM_hh5R5PhwaMRjpFONmlchrk7ctPkRc3jTbghRF_VrZfWvbIV-UDVne8zO5pX3PZx-OKDy6jIziBsNvLC4WpAJlbCENmWqB6HVYrJ6M0npGYNSX3nvUdRJ1Qv3EBI/s1600/Mpl1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjNzwVRP_RdnrGjM_hh5R5PhwaMRjpFONmlchrk7ctPkRc3jTbghRF_VrZfWvbIV-UDVne8zO5pX3PZx-OKDy6jIziBsNvLC4WpAJlbCENmWqB6HVYrJ6M0npGYNSX3nvUdRJ1Qv3EBI/s400/Mpl1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591775861051270930" /></a><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdkIxuywJeLPy8IxFAdPr5jolrCW1bfJ6dBsFAl3GlYvjUKUZ2yi_SkmAsyilrozy9KErtIRz8gj0_4A2WJO-r8STdNtzxbYVHP3E54pHSuzHBwgkTGUSAMY9aSbjvmE0lwLFzk91Gnw/s400/ES882.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591775620022417250" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNsu_7-GNT-kln0OYVtq1e8JYHJNNT0CKBEI_79A5WKEeoR6YHaCoWFUNZGvWfpReP5wXWdon0xBn5mJHEZwnkjU57fP_-ElDX5UI7JuZWgtv-pVG6nLKQ2_mx-7IoziEFqhPLDeSzM4/s1600/mpl2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNsu_7-GNT-kln0OYVtq1e8JYHJNNT0CKBEI_79A5WKEeoR6YHaCoWFUNZGvWfpReP5wXWdon0xBn5mJHEZwnkjU57fP_-ElDX5UI7JuZWgtv-pVG6nLKQ2_mx-7IoziEFqhPLDeSzM4/s400/mpl2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591775776538926610" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHD1yevxERArH7IwS8xpr2SeFqXzPk9-wu8xt1F8JprIV2qMDdIadjTqZzRl-OV__hFH1vM96epjhRN3NDdSC38YcdF0_qcxaFtfYf4ei4oiyDieVn1d-ydUbGrEIW6-naA2JCSKOxCN8/s1600/ES429.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHD1yevxERArH7IwS8xpr2SeFqXzPk9-wu8xt1F8JprIV2qMDdIadjTqZzRl-OV__hFH1vM96epjhRN3NDdSC38YcdF0_qcxaFtfYf4ei4oiyDieVn1d-ydUbGrEIW6-naA2JCSKOxCN8/s400/ES429.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591775458558908514" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlT0cmaN-TCCr_FRRRa9vsPHGR747cqRPSRwYKYAEfS7sjwcVyZaH9dne9w2gxFu_rWHgBZN99cv3BRh-6fQo1nCVspkEl4Ucof16BodxZQ407JTedPpNajC809fxucFgB2n4FcxnG7aA/s1600/ES476.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlT0cmaN-TCCr_FRRRa9vsPHGR747cqRPSRwYKYAEfS7sjwcVyZaH9dne9w2gxFu_rWHgBZN99cv3BRh-6fQo1nCVspkEl4Ucof16BodxZQ407JTedPpNajC809fxucFgB2n4FcxnG7aA/s400/ES476.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591775345664294978" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4rHZY4Lr1CQbSu3BuKoJ9swoJNjmO4gFoi24vojxpZrlT8vUFemxLm6jhoM241lgHaqdHR8AILUVimN-Utjlo5dOV6jv4IfCm_AqHCB0ufwkrOL7BgB9bZ2TQXom7OaT-OoltQGJ2O3E/s1600/E114.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4rHZY4Lr1CQbSu3BuKoJ9swoJNjmO4gFoi24vojxpZrlT8vUFemxLm6jhoM241lgHaqdHR8AILUVimN-Utjlo5dOV6jv4IfCm_AqHCB0ufwkrOL7BgB9bZ2TQXom7OaT-OoltQGJ2O3E/s400/E114.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591775076160588978" /></a>Last May a strain in my quad threatened my early spring season & I struggled with the same doubts I have now. Instead of focusing on the doubt or failure, I will put my hope in the Lord not wanting to forget His healing work and the stellar <a href="http://shootruntrisubmit.blogspot.com/2010/05/superior-trail-50k-ultra-race-report.html">race</a> that followed that painful period. It's all just part of it and in the end all worth it for those moments when everything comes together. Often times the fight to the finish starts before even reaching the starting line. That's where I'm at.RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-32952055022595753562011-04-04T07:20:00.000-07:002011-04-04T08:34:02.030-07:00One week later...<div>A week to the day after my husband & I returned home from our travels in Japan, the Tsunami & Earthquake hit. </div><div><br /></div><div>I still see the faces of the Japanese businessmen, fathers, mothers & children on the train as we made our first leg back to the States and I can't help but wonder how they have faired. My heart has struggled with sorrow. It is such a beautiful country/culture that has suffered so much loss. Seeing image upon image of the devastation is different when you recognize what has collapsed or been swept away. Much is broken down, but all is not lost, so here are a few shots from my time there as an alternative to the frames of destruction... </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_WTZl52A-xSM_2R0jR6fZBYJDySZabQGgsja6UqJOh1jiMU674i6pTlkSzSeFtJGzUN9cysp_p9f2wwHIqJGm56lYUbIM2uMQ7TCXsGQC9TdmPCungxFY19lDYPkY_kJ49fkmhqedVM/s1600/blogbaby.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_WTZl52A-xSM_2R0jR6fZBYJDySZabQGgsja6UqJOh1jiMU674i6pTlkSzSeFtJGzUN9cysp_p9f2wwHIqJGm56lYUbIM2uMQ7TCXsGQC9TdmPCungxFY19lDYPkY_kJ49fkmhqedVM/s400/blogbaby.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591734891795892706" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My hubby w/ our new-born nephew, Ricky.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmYLGB39SnIBdbTwJbEYoGzAsmFgOBj5sqnw9nZyWhe5Ef38ceJVeQnUHCrblEPtHKe-Fe5kiSHQN7tlG3yAxIn3h32uPVJDndFKGzveU4RzgTqul6Qnn-mn4UoEBo2nfEhhUEGly8Npc/s1600/BlogJap1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmYLGB39SnIBdbTwJbEYoGzAsmFgOBj5sqnw9nZyWhe5Ef38ceJVeQnUHCrblEPtHKe-Fe5kiSHQN7tlG3yAxIn3h32uPVJDndFKGzveU4RzgTqul6Qnn-mn4UoEBo2nfEhhUEGly8Npc/s400/BlogJap1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591734762531111618" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Temples, trees & tarmac during one of my runs.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuTYi9IZHNDYlnoqyPv333HfCq9VyL4jSDrQbO4zNCsj3WyWtTzP-S-6tPzbpG-15PsVo20FLHVv3c36gCM3p-stdQ5MLDMZ2FQZA1cUdy92DlUaImVgMYqOawJbyRGqn8jLHOpk9leU/s1600/blogjap3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 177px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuTYi9IZHNDYlnoqyPv333HfCq9VyL4jSDrQbO4zNCsj3WyWtTzP-S-6tPzbpG-15PsVo20FLHVv3c36gCM3p-stdQ5MLDMZ2FQZA1cUdy92DlUaImVgMYqOawJbyRGqn8jLHOpk9leU/s400/blogjap3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591734674806651714" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Naqua Shirakami. Snowboarding on the side of a Volcano.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBV3neyFXjdkVebQAgS178SUJkIPnzTj0oSR8LsKLvL7RqsoGZvSyu9-PfnfXH0ueTHBOnNMlcZpxxxg0WgHxapYHQcwm7yrsW0naj_ohaq9CSe3L-bvkr3NG8lXUDsmfDRDz_IaMYFU/s1600/blogjap2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 383px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBV3neyFXjdkVebQAgS178SUJkIPnzTj0oSR8LsKLvL7RqsoGZvSyu9-PfnfXH0ueTHBOnNMlcZpxxxg0WgHxapYHQcwm7yrsW0naj_ohaq9CSe3L-bvkr3NG8lXUDsmfDRDz_IaMYFU/s400/blogjap2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591734556080610562" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Brilliant blue skies over rice fields ready for planting on the edge of town.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You may not know that most of my husband's family lives in northern Japan. While they were still hit with the quake, the town in which they live was only nominally effected. However towns just 15-30miles away were not so fortunate, experiencing extensive damage.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When my in-laws were called to Japan over a handful of years ago it was with the heart's desire to serve the Japanese people in body & spirit. On the wings of this recent disaster the need for this ministry has greatly increased. Our parents are literally out there in the mire helping in the clean-up efforts and their doors remain open to those in need. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">For information on what they are doing & how you can help: <a href="http://www.misawahospitalityhouse.com/">http://www.misawahospitalityhouse.com/</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Please continue to pray for the people of Japan & those still hurting in Haiti. </div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-10889841477240940492011-02-04T09:27:00.000-08:002011-02-13T14:10:09.473-08:00Arrowhead135 | A Prospector's Perspective<div>In the wise words of GI Joe "Knowing is half the battle". After crewing at Lean Horse 100 earlier this year it really sunk in that if I were ever going to run the <a href="http://www.arrowheadultra.com/index.php">Arrowhead135</a> that it would be wise to get a look at what I'd be getting myself into before attempting it. It's one thing to read that the temperatures during the race (without added windchill) can get down to -40F or colder & another thing entirely to experience it firsthand. Racer's food,water,toes,fingers & yes even eyeballs can freeze over the course of 135 miles in those conditions. </div><div><br /></div><div>Since I knew three of the ultra runners at the race this year <a href="http://rickwagar.blogspot.com/">Rick Wagar</a>, <a href="http://www.billbradley.org/">Bill Bradley</a> & Ben Clark I decided this was the year to volunteer and finally get a view of what really goes on & what it takes to complete an event such as this.</div><div><br /></div><div>On Sunday afternoon I met up with Rick who would be giving Arrowhead a third attempt. Despite all of his own pre-race preparations he was kind enough to point out and acquaint me with a section of trail I could run prior to my first graveyard shift at Crescent Bar the next day. Then we headed into Int'l Falls for the volunteer & pre-race meetings...</div><div><br /></div><div>Following a quick run-down of what was required of me at my checkpoint, who I'd be working with & when our relief could be expected I was handed a swag bag. Inside was a race shirt and hat. Undoubtedly a very nice gesture, but more than a little conflicting for someone who is accustomed to earning said gear by participating in and completing an event. The question "Would I have really earned this when it's all over?" lingered. After all I was just there to volunteer. I now know the answer to that. Yes. </div><div><br /></div><div>The pre-race meeting was a mix of heavy hitters in the ultra/cycling world & the average athlete with a strong mind to match their legs. Not much to add about what happened there, other than to say that the community at endurance races like these is truly phenomenal and the general vibe from those involved with putting on the event was "if you're here we assume you know what the hell you are doing & if you don't then you'd better be prepared to wait a while before help via snowmobile arrives."</div><div><br /></div><div>The start of the race came bright & early the following morning. I cheered Rick on as he set off on the epic journey to the finish. A cowbell or two rang in the distance, but as I anticipated it was a fairly quiet send-off for the racers given the cold & the type of event that it is.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually I started making my way down to my post stopping for a while at Melgeorge's for a run, dinner & a short chit-chat with the photographer and reporter from the Star Tribune who were covering the race. </div><div><br /></div><div>The pictures below are a few frames from the trail outside of <a href="http://www.melgeorges.com/">Melgeorge's</a>. I ended up covering a conservative 6-8 miles. Just enough to hunger for more & little enough to not wear myself out before pulling an all-nighter volunteering. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifI7FCjNO-ZeIiFsFFqayWCJY7YrQ0Uh9cZSs9r6LvCWhoZQrilqBGhKhB3HDFGLGjiW1leZihvD2CMA66L8XJwJWOJgyrOifQ86u9eIkw0GrOK9gfMfmMgWAwYW8tjCUbcy_iMHGnHsU/s1600/EDSC00135-blog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifI7FCjNO-ZeIiFsFFqayWCJY7YrQ0Uh9cZSs9r6LvCWhoZQrilqBGhKhB3HDFGLGjiW1leZihvD2CMA66L8XJwJWOJgyrOifQ86u9eIkw0GrOK9gfMfmMgWAwYW8tjCUbcy_iMHGnHsU/s400/EDSC00135-blog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569888215916534898" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEq_lvhguJiELzh-eRWs-52rdI8YRdTdfuB0JyjH6mI-CNfKBadoPzXJ6W8iAj-KrPVIiKgTX6byQuevZWgzqw7dtmljDzK_5kmntGnw6yI8ih-nbi3_gjJ2mByUj4K90987B4shHlSBs/s1600/AH1-Blog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 364px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEq_lvhguJiELzh-eRWs-52rdI8YRdTdfuB0JyjH6mI-CNfKBadoPzXJ6W8iAj-KrPVIiKgTX6byQuevZWgzqw7dtmljDzK_5kmntGnw6yI8ih-nbi3_gjJ2mByUj4K90987B4shHlSBs/s400/AH1-Blog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569888122133677970" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8aUvWZGb42L0rRoQG4ZH7UKahsgSWNgxTvP29jySQc_Lr4E2Dv3dV1HK1Yhx6E6Wr5MpfFpmEW7qigI1SmwregBfV4FBOkcWCM5_Ql7CqPEodhlDr3z_Fr6r-QEWzl5QjdVQsAbL3ABc/s1600/AH2-Blog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 342px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8aUvWZGb42L0rRoQG4ZH7UKahsgSWNgxTvP29jySQc_Lr4E2Dv3dV1HK1Yhx6E6Wr5MpfFpmEW7qigI1SmwregBfV4FBOkcWCM5_Ql7CqPEodhlDr3z_Fr6r-QEWzl5QjdVQsAbL3ABc/s400/AH2-Blog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569888027130812178" /></a>The trail was absolutely beautiful! Winding turns, rolling hills, flanked by pine & birch. It reminded me of the numerous catwalks up at Lutsen. I'm not sure what I expected out of a snowmobile/multi-use trail in the winter, but this definitely wasn't it. Much much nicer. <div><div><br /></div><div>I had heard there were shelters for the racers to set up their bivy sacks in for sleeping between the limited checkpoints and I came across one. The 2+ feet of snow atop the roof & 3ft drift at it's opening made it rather uninviting. Note to self: This will look like the Hilton when it's -29F and you've only slept 3hrs in the last 35-40.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had also heard that snowmobiles can almost silently come up behind you quickly and round the corners without much care for what is on the other side of them. My experience with trails has been horse, mountain bike & hiking where people would feel more concerned for your mental health wearing a florescent vest out in the middle of nowhere than for your safety. So when it came time to pack for the trip I neglected to pack my vest, but thankfully I was able to jimmy rig a pair of blaze orange suspenders (sexy!) that I picked up at Menard's into something adequate. At times I felt a nerdish pride for my craftiness and others like a complete dork wearing blaze orange on a desolate trail in the sticks. That was until four snowmobiles swept past without warning. Note to self: There is no such thing as "too bright" when selecting gear for this one, think My Little Pony. </div><div><br /></div><div>Crescent Bar (mile 112ish) would be where I would spend the majority of my time volunteering the rest of the trip. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first night we only saw cyclists come thru. Thick ice adorned eye-lashes, face masks & beards were a common sight. Many of them tried to shed the ice by flaking it off before it melted and soaked into their gear. Moisture is a killer. When outside anything even partially wet that isn't close enough to the skin to be heated will freeze pretty quickly and only make a person colder especially when you're on a bike where wind can penetrate the layers. </div><div><br /></div><div>Perhaps it was spending most of a day with little sign of another human being out there, the cold or the fatigue, but I was surprised to see that a lot of the racers (cycling and on foot) had some sort of culture shock after entering the bar. Unlike most aid stations where volunteers rush in to help oncoming racers, that wasn't the best idea here and had we done that I'm fairly certain we would have overwhelmed them. In a negative way. So I did my best to maintain distance and only inform them of what was available if they needed it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then came the really crummy part of volunteering at a check-point that isn't a designated a sleeping area. Waking exhausted people up after a short nap. It's like taking the plate away from a starving person. You know they want/need more but you can't let them have it. Eventually I got it down to a system though and not a single racer complained which helped a ton.</div><div><br /></div><div>4 Cokes, 1 Redbull & numerous cyclists later our relief showed up just after dawn. It wasn't until the drive back the hotel that I realized that the head cold my husband had been battling all week was finally starting to attack me. Bad timing. I exchanged a few words with other volunteers before putting myself into a dramamine induced coma to get as much quality sleep as possible before my next graveyard shift. </div><div><br /></div><div>On to shift #2 I was starting to get excited. The last cyclist was thru and we were going to start seeing the people on foot. Unfortunately the update came thru that Bill & Ben had dropped at Melgeorge's, but pings from Rick's GPS unit kept tracking him closer and closer to Crescent. I just kept praying that he would be able to keep going as the outside temperatures turned even colder to -40F that night.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some of the runners came in looking pretty rough and we had to keep a close eye on who may have indicators for hypothermia. A lot of them wisely opted to try drying their gear by the fireplace and downing some drink/food before heading out. It was a rare runner that didn't order pizza out of the kitchen during the time I was there. Dean would be proud. :) </div><div><br /></div><div>The most surprising thing I noticed was that despite the exhaustion, hunger and cold the majority of the people on foot were in better walking shape than a lot of the racers I've seen at shorter ultras out there and they had already covered 112miles by the time they reached us. </div><div><br /></div><div>Blisters & dehydration were the most common issues I saw. A lot of blisters on the heels. I'm guessing from the many uphills they had to climb prior to the checkpoint. Judging by the amount of people who complained about said hills, they must be brutal.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the lulls between racers coming in I chatted with the man who I ended up volunteering with that shift, an endurance XC Skiier, prospecting the race as well. He was such a valuable asset to the runners that night, I can't even begin to explain. It was such a relief as the head cold started taking over me. I went thru a ridiculous amount of kleenex in those 13hrs and as much as I wanted to help the racers, the last thing I wanted to do was get them sick too. So I handled the technical side of keeping the snowmobile crews, family & fellow racers informed of where everyone was. </div><div><br /></div><div>This turned out to be convenient for me as I could keep a close eye on Rick's progress at the same time. In the early dawn hours he reached us. Looking strong. A lot can happen in the last 22 miles or so after Crescent, but I was really confident that he'd make it to the finish. 54hrs & 25minutes after the start he did just that! 3rd time really was the charm. </div><div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI_de_ptvuwGd-Mku3a0FG2C7MfGnduRU_0yM2BK5WBrklxvvz1Jxi_REPFVd0Pgv3flXt8o4IxZVN9EMKGG9SaAMRUaGuWowJb_Ac-2-Lprt3PTZ99L_ZXXbquJ13MZW5DR8glV6DHg/s1600/EDSC00152-Blog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI_de_ptvuwGd-Mku3a0FG2C7MfGnduRU_0yM2BK5WBrklxvvz1Jxi_REPFVd0Pgv3flXt8o4IxZVN9EMKGG9SaAMRUaGuWowJb_Ac-2-Lprt3PTZ99L_ZXXbquJ13MZW5DR8glV6DHg/s400/EDSC00152-Blog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569887962741616690" /></a>I thought I would leave the race feeling like someone who had just seen a child being born, needing some time to forget before even thinking of having a child of their own, but I didn't. I now want to do the race more than ever! The difficulty in the journey, my love for winter running & the beauty of the terrain calls to me like Sirens. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, with that calling comes a lot of questions. When? Is probably the biggest one right now. Tendinitis is one problem, acquiring all of the gear needed is another. There are also essentials I need to learn like how to run fast enough to stay warm, but not so fast that I sweat and end up with damp gear. How to camp out in a bivy sack. How to pee w/o getting too cold, sinking into the 3+ feet of snow at the side of the trail, or accidently hitting my gear. </div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>What I do know is that it will happen when my God wants it to and I'm hopeful that it will be as good of an experience from the trail as it was volunteering. It was a lot of work & wore me out, but I really enjoyed it! :) </div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-71415826459174355612011-01-17T09:08:00.000-08:002011-01-17T10:56:32.690-08:00Greedy little me...<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How do you prepare for what you cannot see fully? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;">"Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase." -Martin Luther King, Jr. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">All I can see of my 2011 race season are the first few steps, but every step I take reveals more of that staircase so I'll keep on in faith that my God has something grand for me at the top. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;">As the mileage continues to creep up I am reminded of His faithfulness in healing, but I would be remiss not to admit that it has come with it's own set of challenges.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I am greedy. Greedy for miles. Greedy for speed. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There was a time this fall when I would have been happy just to be able to run 6-7 miles again without aggravating the tendinitis & spending the following week in steady pain until it calmed down again. As I approached mile 15 of the 18 mile run I completed thi</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">s we</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">ekend I found myself getting frustrated with the amount fatigue I felt & how slow I was.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDo1FgJAAo1ncFs7GUPq8-P_sOIlDm5ze41UMdHqE79069pn6GcyzE-gdsULu-sLJ4cJwwsa5I7jZfP3l13pc9L7waa2Z1x02IyO1bLJnxR-x5411o5iDtCzaZFV8nlq9Ct4_eeRWBKc/s1600/DSC00105-FB.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDo1FgJAAo1ncFs7GUPq8-P_sOIlDm5ze41UMdHqE79069pn6GcyzE-gdsULu-sLJ4cJwwsa5I7jZfP3l13pc9L7waa2Z1x02IyO1bLJnxR-x5411o5iDtCzaZFV8nlq9Ct4_eeRWBKc/s400/DSC00105-FB.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563204738207923506" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaB5Izd5QZb2f2iq1du3rfPKNV6aUv9ZlNMh9rAr3u8LQEQBjl-FC9WFtigBlujAMXf-VF-5ndhefpV4VOtKyRXP7Vo3cGpmXEQlixWEUrqVM4KaV1W2XSx0yR0N9feRKZ5LTqBlJNlw/s1600/EDSC00096-FB.jpg"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaB5Izd5QZb2f2iq1du3rfPKNV6aUv9ZlNMh9rAr3u8LQEQBjl-FC9WFtigBlujAMXf-VF-5ndhefpV4VOtKyRXP7Vo3cGpmXEQlixWEUrqVM4KaV1W2XSx0yR0N9feRKZ5LTqBlJNlw/s1600/EDSC00096-FB.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaB5Izd5QZb2f2iq1du3rfPKNV6aUv9ZlNMh9rAr3u8LQEQBjl-FC9WFtigBlujAMXf-VF-5ndhefpV4VOtKyRXP7Vo3cGpmXEQlixWEUrqVM4KaV1W2XSx0yR0N9feRKZ5LTqBlJNlw/s400/EDSC00096-FB.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563204574725008850" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I didn't get enough sleep. The sun wasn't even fully risen when I started. Not only was I tired, I was met with a -20F windchill the entire time & the layers of tights + jackets gets heavy. 2 to 3 inches of snow blanketed my footing & that became increasingly difficult to push thru when my feet didn't want to lift very far off the ground. I am still running thru tendinitis and this prevents me from zoning out during the difficult parts of a long run. I have to think about every single step so my form doesn't get sloppy & I end up hurting myself. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Given all of those things </span></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">OF COURSE</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> I'm going to be tired & consequently, slow. But the Greed still tried to sink my spirit. I refuse to resign myself to that. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">With better focus, this is how it really looks. "It was hard to get up, but I got to wake up with the sunrise over my first few miles. The soft morning light made the snow sparkle, it was beautiful. The air was cold but I was perfectly geared & hardly felt it. 2 to 3 inches of snow cushioned my footsteps which is so helpful as I adjust to these long minimalist runs. My tendons are tired, but they do not hurt & this is the highest mileage week I've had in SEVEN months! "</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Sometimes the line between a blessing & a curse is merely the glasses thru which you choose to view it. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Because of the tendinitis it may be harder, I may experience more fatigue, I may be slower, but I choose to be thankful. Every mile is a gift & I show my thankfulness by savoring every step up that staircase. God is Good! :)</span></span></span></span></div></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-40338030334533241742011-01-03T11:19:00.000-08:002011-01-03T12:45:18.715-08:0070mi Later | Soft Star RunAmoc<div>As of last night it's been 70 miles since I first "laced up" the RunAmocs & thought it was about time I post a few of my thoughts or observations of them now that I have more grounds to so.<div><br /></div><div>First of all I was expecting the transition from Vibram Five Fingers to these to take some time, but it took surprisingly little. I started with 3 miles at a time & was quickly able to progress up to 16. A few minor annoyances in the transition were: </div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;">How noisy my footfall was! </span>It's far more noticeable when your feet are slapping the ground in them which honestly is a good thing so that you know to correct your form to land more gently. </li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;">Finding the right amount of tension for the laces</span>. The forefoot of the shoe "seals" to the heel via an elastic and shoe lace system that cups your ankle. I have tendinitis around my achilles & inside of the heel so I was worried this area would be aggravated by that, it wasn't once I found the proper tightness which for me happens to be different for each foot.</li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;">They don't hug my feet.</span> I've got wide feet so I'm used to structured running shoes hugging my feet & all of my minimalist running up until these has been in the Bikilas which fit literally like a glove. This made the RunAmoc feel like a weird leather bag around my foot. Given that they are basically a running moccasin that's how it's going to feel, but it was hard to get used to at first. </li></ul></div></div><div>Blistering was an issue in the beginning. What I found is that since the sole-style is so much different than that of the VFFs or a structured running shoe that my toes wanted to try to grip the ground for traction instead of using my whole foot. I thought that Injinji socks would give me the free toes feeling I had enjoyed in the VFFs while still being protected from the elements in the RunAmocs, but they actually accentuated the problem. Switching to Teko or Smartwool socks has helped, the soles have broken in & my toes have learned not to dig for traction.</div><div><br /></div><div>Is traction an issue? It's winter so I don't have a well rounded opinion here yet as I'm limited to running only on various forms of snow. That said it's not any better or worse in the RunAmocs than other shoes I've tried. Because it is a minimalist shoe you will feel the ground more (ie; feel when it's getting slick earlier) & from there can adjust your pace/gait accordingly. </div><div><br /></div><div>My primary reasons for purchasing the Soft Star RunAmocs was to keep my feet dryer and warmer. They have done a beautiful job of that. I've run in slush & thru thick drifts of snow and been pleased with their performance in both. However, when running through deep snow there were periods when a fair amount of snow did enter the shoe(s). If it's cold enough the snow will heat up from your foot temp and then freeze solid again around your toes <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;">IF</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"> </span></b>you leave the snow inside the shoe. If it's warm enough out this just means warm soggy feet. Either way not ideal, but these shoes are so incredibly easy to pop off & on again that there is no reason not to take a quick stop to empty the snow out. That said, in 70miles in air temps of 30F to -8F my feet have <b>never</b> been cold in them yet. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now for how they are holding up in the North Country. They were doing admirably until this past Friday when I ran in a blizzard. Roads were horrendous & unplowed with styrofoam textured Volkswagon sized drifts strewn across them. I was force to take a short cut thru a park that had ice glazed snow drifts, they looked friendly like the drifts on the road, but they were not. A few yards in it got difficult. I would take a few steps then abruptly break thru the ice-shelf and down 6" into the fluffy snow below it. </div><div><br /></div><div>As you can see the jagged ice crystals around the opening where my foot broke thru the ice over & over again really roughed up the toes of the RunAmocs. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKiPEBVdHb2lHJPj5KvHn47TjwRBJNGRq3EIPr5HDj55a0whbD6V4_H96Jz0VBp9OKuy8T5FbL4oCl49_Lm4JOFkWq615HKLFVOp1KGQqzRdNab9ZF0oaAr7Ti4nzSOclC6qZtI5ezGgw/s1600/RunAmoc70.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKiPEBVdHb2lHJPj5KvHn47TjwRBJNGRq3EIPr5HDj55a0whbD6V4_H96Jz0VBp9OKuy8T5FbL4oCl49_Lm4JOFkWq615HKLFVOp1KGQqzRdNab9ZF0oaAr7Ti4nzSOclC6qZtI5ezGgw/s400/RunAmoc70.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558047769501577410" /></a><div><div>The soles show very little wear which was my biggest concern when buying these. The heels show some wear, could be from the ice, but I'm guessing most of it is from the leather slouching a bit and scuffing the ground when I run. All in all, none of these areas of wear have diminished </div><div>the shoes performance & at this point I have no doubts that I'll be able to get a lot more miles in them. </div></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-89488575854560253202010-12-21T09:53:00.000-08:002010-12-21T10:34:37.972-08:00A case of cankles...<div>A little over a week & a half ago I got tattoos in celebration of my journeys on foot or two wheels. Running and triathlon has changed my life and given me such freedom that I felt it was only right to mark that. So while some may say that I might regret my wings many years from now when I'm 80, I'm just excited to explain why I got them to my grandbabies. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqpgF9j5UnuKleQT3FSxyY1XRlh4-xS-WCCzLnHPCzEbpsRrGyhrSmPsBFbZt-VUmoL6SQUzri2a8kYZQkNnTOJ_JNVprbTiI8qynGnyujcw3ECiOI5fR1M656d8sPQch40pQWpYdvlJc/s1600/wingsDM.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqpgF9j5UnuKleQT3FSxyY1XRlh4-xS-WCCzLnHPCzEbpsRrGyhrSmPsBFbZt-VUmoL6SQUzri2a8kYZQkNnTOJ_JNVprbTiI8qynGnyujcw3ECiOI5fR1M656d8sPQch40pQWpYdvlJc/s400/wingsDM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553195379075950546" /></a>My ankles swelled into cankles from the new ink so I had to take some time off, but last week I finally hit the 1,700 mile mark for the year. A combined total between swim,bike,run & row. It's a few hundred short of my goal, but with 6months of wicked tendonitis I'll take it! <div><br /></div><div>The new year is coming and the 2011 race schedule is starting to weigh heavily on my mind. The desire is to go ultra, though I feel pretty stunted not knowing what this foot will allow me to do. For the first time in three years I don't really have a plan. That said, I'm still enjoying running and cycling for absolutely no other reason than that I love to. Hopefully in 90 days I'll be able to cover my years in miles for the bday run, what happens after that.... I have no idea.</div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-13395181985280632362010-12-09T09:37:00.000-08:002010-12-09T11:21:52.796-08:00Soft Star RunAmoc Review | First Impressions<div>As the temps & snow continue to fall the need to keep my toes warm on those crisp long runs has become paramount. Up until these beauties arrived I had been running in a different minimalist type shoe, the Bikila by: Vibram Five Fingers paired with Injinji toe socks. The Bikilas are a great shoe, but if you have to stop in the snow at any point during a run your feet will melt the snow between your toes & around them making your feet <b>wet</b>. Not exactly something you want in sub-freezing or even sub-zero temps. </div><div><br /></div><div>My hunt for a cozy alternative to the VFFs lead me to <a href="http://www.softstarshoes.com/">Soft Star's Shoes</a>. After speaking with the Elves (Their customer service is fantastic.) at Soft Star, I decided to order the Smooth version of the RunAmocs with the trail sole. In spite of ordering the shoes in custom color, width & over a holiday they still managed to show up on my doorstep within a week. </div><div><br /></div><div>Upon opening the package I quickly realize that the RunAmoc is well named as this shoe is essentially a moccasin for running. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiii6TnG2taKVi4xxsm0SGvvVHQR7qx2nVNCnCP4x5LFASPeI7yo-hFxMn9zjRd46NQqyMu1DFXYBYC5XYM4i_UEVGSPhyphenhyphent8n1VoXdAIluz4gtVNnA1653tzh0krFNlO60oytspemIdU4o/s1600/E7539.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiii6TnG2taKVi4xxsm0SGvvVHQR7qx2nVNCnCP4x5LFASPeI7yo-hFxMn9zjRd46NQqyMu1DFXYBYC5XYM4i_UEVGSPhyphenhyphent8n1VoXdAIluz4gtVNnA1653tzh0krFNlO60oytspemIdU4o/s400/E7539.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548742493811986834" /></a><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9yA3hZ6AXTI_UICW4dZYEcPlEyljF9K5Fkc-tcK5jBLVx42nmBsPrOihQmQ-gpjgsiwqSfQb0Gso3db0R_th-miAx1gLcJqmcWwhE_hGwdFf37u5iPv6Oc5eKCzq12Pg3HnZ8ThdzFt0/s1600/SSRA.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9yA3hZ6AXTI_UICW4dZYEcPlEyljF9K5Fkc-tcK5jBLVx42nmBsPrOihQmQ-gpjgsiwqSfQb0Gso3db0R_th-miAx1gLcJqmcWwhE_hGwdFf37u5iPv6Oc5eKCzq12Pg3HnZ8ThdzFt0/s400/SSRA.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548742414315817682" /></a>Eager to try them out I slipped them on & went about the rest of my day running errands. At first the leather upper over my toes made them feel a bit trapped, but as you'll read in other reviews this is something that breaks in over time. Even with my limited usage of them so far I am already beginning to feel them loosen up. They are after all leather. That said, the way the overall fit in the toe box <b>is</b> appropriate given that you don't want to be sliding around which could cause instability and blistering.</div><div><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDL-ByR4vIBgWqzXG-ZBH-AtsAbioTc5RVfKiW9epnNyLoJhtJCWToXLH9XAaljdPCCetK12ZdpplLN1a7Bc5KBcpKWO475D1E6CFkAjzclEyBzKgZ-JEGRFLLXw3ljuY61fTRHAqz6U/s1600/SoleRA.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 197px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDL-ByR4vIBgWqzXG-ZBH-AtsAbioTc5RVfKiW9epnNyLoJhtJCWToXLH9XAaljdPCCetK12ZdpplLN1a7Bc5KBcpKWO475D1E6CFkAjzclEyBzKgZ-JEGRFLLXw3ljuY61fTRHAqz6U/s400/SoleRA.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548742317787848498" /></a>As I mentioned earlier, I chose to go with the trail sole. Gravel, rocks, ice and ice chunks are common obstacles during my runs so this seemed to be the wisest choice. If you are used to a KSO or Bikila sole the 5mm Vibram sole on these will feel pretty substantial to start, but as soon as you go down a flight of stairs, climb over a snow bank or clip an eight minute mile on slick packed snow you'll see where these soles really shine. So far I would rank these on par if not markedly better for traction on snow than the VFF models I have. I also find that I spend less time looking at the ground for debris that could bruise the bottom of my foot knowing that the thickness of this sole, even with it's flexibility, has enough protection. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXGXIQehApWgk_6oaRZPXDuJWhGg7qxN6JNS-7rfJY2JB7Lnx8LX7wzoRDcegOo8jBgxDsEKC4YFN2mtVXDYPkefggwf-IUcNLuvj30GAG-aFynupuF1hyMaRBXLFQ0KmMm0dWDJAXSM/s1600/TwoPieceRA.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXGXIQehApWgk_6oaRZPXDuJWhGg7qxN6JNS-7rfJY2JB7Lnx8LX7wzoRDcegOo8jBgxDsEKC4YFN2mtVXDYPkefggwf-IUcNLuvj30GAG-aFynupuF1hyMaRBXLFQ0KmMm0dWDJAXSM/s400/TwoPieceRA.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548742199830767058" /></a></div></div><div>Of course since I live in North Dakota my first opportunity to actually run in them landed on an evening of -1F temps and a fresh inch of fluffy snow. Much to my relief my feet stayed warm & dry during the entire run. Now, running thru drifts or sidewalks covered in over 5inches of snow isn't an uncommon occurrence for me so I am curious to see how well the midfoot-to-forefoot seal (pictured above) will function in those conditions, but I haven't had the chance to test that yet.</div><div><br /></div><div>I plan on keeping an ongoing review of the Smooth RunAmoc so that the rest of you can get a feel for how quickly they'll wear and what terrain or conditions they are the most functional in. This is just the start. It's looking promising so far. :)</div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-8202197188310029872010-12-06T12:04:00.001-08:002010-12-06T13:47:01.038-08:00Moving On<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To say I've had writer's block...that I've been too busy to post...that I've been shamefully avoiding explaining why has been at my fingertips often but never typed out in the past six months.</div><div><br /></div><div>So here it is; I have been all of those things and now it's time to move on & let the beautiful journey continue. Before I do here is somewhat of an update or explanation (if you will) of what's gone on, I don't want to forget. </div><div><br /></div><div>When training for a 100 mile ultra or any endurance event you learn well how to accept a certain degree of pain or discomfort, nudge it to the back of your mind & push onward. July 8th was one of the most enjoyable long-runs I'd ever had, but at miles 6, 8 and 22 something was starting to go wrong in my right foot/ankle. The next week I dropped over 8lbs. with a stomach flu, tried to focus on being thankful for the time in bed to allow my foot to recover without worrying about the missed work & training. The week after I thought I was back to normal...I wasn't. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="440" height="345"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/P1rXLBj6vCA?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/P1rXLBj6vCA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="440" height="345"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>When you have to take off your shoe 15 miles into a trail run to stretch the tendons over a rock to relieve the pain, you know without question that something has definitely gone awry. While I came away from that run with a lot of great memories, during it I really hurt & felt generally unwell. I wouldn't run on trail again for another 80 days.</div><div><br /></div><div>Weeks passed instead of miles. Injury & illness persisted. Race plans were forced to change. I handled it gracefully, I handled it horribly. Every emotion possible was felt with the longest lingering being guilt & shame over the fact that I was <b>injured</b>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Work in the following months was a blessing and a curse. It kept me distracted from the fact that I was unable to run, but also became a good excuse to avoid those I had spent countless hours training with. Thanks again to my Beloved & crew for sticking by me. I have no disillusions of how difficult I must have been to tolerate in this time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>Eventually I started to accept things & began setting other goals. Instead of running Lean Horse, I crewed three of my close friends there.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXN8VaG0Cbd3XOh-ff8cxrls01ArlsoJhnqqImKU6xu4FwISifBVKUBBR5IR8mwH69tD8tajQxcNpi9_9meWY_fZJ_ftnfh878gc8L0q8L79ky050Elt4W8xLRX5v8ABYyrcAwkQwt2q4/s400/DSC00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547675454810177762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 330px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">After 30+ sleepless hours crewing I joined Maggie as a pacer on the bittersweet Argyle road. The pain tried to swallow her whole those final 12 miles, but she fought hard and made it to the finish. This wasn't the experience I had spent months dreaming about, yet it was equally as valuable. I discovered that I'm actually very skilled at crewing & my militant side makes me a talented pacer. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I came away from that event with renewed courage to fight to get back to running and I haven't stopped since. In the process of keeping my activity & cardio levels up </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I fell head-over-heels with Brazilian jiu-jitsu & cycling all over again. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPBktrgZipjTdE7tFfWbzMNu-ZDCwyo-5zuynCeTpZMuj0Qr8wYk27s2I3ImFZ8D23iy7yOA7YF1YHZv3CSLYpcmibgdY0u3DdxGlmvADmQx2m4CaRU9Xhan7ShOAcqxfKfUSm2MTYh4/s400/BJJ.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547672392935945170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 189px; " /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I plan on competing in my first Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu/Submission Grappling tournament in April.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIfKrivkIWoWJ2UDqvYJilDNPv54twyIB8-7r2f28lcLxxOgExiwZoMImqJfS-RYAszPCP1K5K7WQHFgo2s2mDQPC4mIGlQ92W3nB1mgiy0esr7bi7rVba6X_d_TFeHK84xYGknrTpRoQ/s400/filth5k2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547682469596064578" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 346px; " /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">A few months ago I tromped thru the mud with a few friends at one of the dirtiest trail "races" around. Who says you can only wear your wedding dress once? Since then running has ever so slowly started to come back to me again. Praise God! What the Docs have labeled tendonitis still causes me discomfort on a weekly (sometimes daily) basis,but I am now able to run without notable pain as long as I am in minimalist footwear. So I am also making the transition to that style of running, so far so good! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">What's in store for my 2011 race season is really a blank slate. I have a few ideas & hopes, but my motto for this season remains the same for the next, "In His Time". It's all an adventure!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;">"Give thanks in all things;" 1 Thessalonians 5:18</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span></div></span></span></div><div> </div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-37229160688585105262010-06-25T14:08:00.000-07:002010-12-06T10:59:55.038-08:00From Dusk-To-Dawn<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-family:georgia;">"God, The Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places." Habakkuk 3:19</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Only two weeks after competing in a Half IronMan I set out on another epic physical journey. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>The goal:</b> Run from Sunset to Sunrise. Solo.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The distance:</b> As far as the Lord would allow my legs to carry me. Hopefully farther than I had ever run before.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The Terrain:</b> Primarily gravel roads with plentiful hills & a few paved sections. </div><div><br /></div><div>The journey began at 10pm with the sun almost entirely set leaving only enough illumination to make out the sillouhettes of tree lines that surrounded the area farmsteads & tall grass lining the roadside. The entire landscape was cloaked in a rich shade of blue, the air was humid & the wind still. It was serene. </div><div><br /></div><div>I ran without light until I could no longer make out the terrain, then flipped on both headlamps. One around my waist aimed where my footfall would be & the other strapped to my hat casting light straight ahead. </div><div><br /></div><div>It didn't take long for fear to start tapping me on the shoulder. Running in the dark is not new to me, but this was on remote country roads & I was solo. Every dark shrub off in the distance was startling. It took 5miles before I was finally able to lock into logic. </div><div><br /></div><div>What was I afraid of? Why? This area isn't really known for animal attacks or strange people lurking in the woods in hopes of a lone ultra-runner passing by. The taps of fear on my shoulder followed by adrenaline spikes became more of an irritant, but a steady reminder to pray. While I may have been running lone the miles between meeting up with my crew for aid, I was never truly alone. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">"You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance." Selah. Psalm 32:7 </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>This verse was heavy on my mind, especially as I had earnestly desired to complete the first section of the route roughly 13miles without the distraction of music. I succeeded. </div><div><br /></div><div>There were many large rollers along this part of the route, but when you can only see as far as the headlamp will cast there is no way to fully grasp just how large the climbs are until your 1/2 way up them. I did my best to remind myself to walk the uphills in hopes of giving my body longevity for the miles ahead. This seemed to work well, but often as I stopped to walk I was tapped on the shoulder & all I wanted was to push past whatever it whatever it was that spooked me so I ended up running a lot of them.</div><div><br /></div><div>When meeting up with my crew to top off the water in my pack & grab additional fuel I was informed that thunderstorms were forming and heading our way. There was talk of me being pulled early if the weather got bad. I didn't want this. My heart was set on epic. </div><div><br /></div><div>I continued down the road picking up the pace in hopes of getting myself as far ahead of the storm as possible. Music while it can be a great encouragement during a run can also breed weakness & this training run was all about limiting any emotional or physical crutches so I limited my use of the Ipod to 3miles at a time. If I wanted music I would have to earn it and wait the 6-8miles between doses.</div><div><br /></div><div>Miles 13-18 passed quickly and the residual muscle fatigue from the 70.3 was getting beat out with every step. Flashes of lightning & the slight rumble of thunder began to make their presence known off to the west. When I turned my head to eye the storm cell moving in I was met with 10 sets of green eyes reflecting back at me. The lightning provided just enough light to make out large black creatures & I instinctively said aloud "Dear Lord, let those be cows." I have never longed to hear mooing in my life. They never did, but I was eventually able to cast light on to the only white cow amongst the solid black ones. </div><div><br /></div><div>At mile 22 I stopped to picked up more water, perpetuem, orange slices & my rain gear. Jeremy debriefed me on the severe thunderstorms forming around us and we modified our game plan adding in another aid station in case the weather became to poor to continue. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just as I hit the road again the rain began to fall and I was thoroughly soaked within a mile. I've done plenty of running in rain so this was not about to deter me. Instead of breathing the 85-90% humidity as I had for the last 20+ miles I was now being invigorated by the showers. So far I had only needed music for a total of 4mi the entire run, running deaf in a storm didn't seem wise so I packed the ipod away & used the bag from it to protect my headlamp from the rain.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I hit the marathon mark I sent a cheer out into the silence that surrounded me & then started climbing the next hill as my quads began to growl reminding me to pop another dose of endurolytes to stave off any cramping. Periods of muscle fatigue would come & go, but I mentally powered through. Thankfully the fatigue of no sleep wasn't causing any issues, yet. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I looked down at my watch and read 27.5 miles I started looking around for the next turn on my route, I thought I was close. My crew was waiting for me there. The next road sign I saw was 20 streets from where I needed to turn, but my directions card indicated that due to the mileage I should be nearing my turn. 20 streets away is not "near". I must be lost. I stopped to call my husband, no answer. Sent a text, no answer. Signal was close to dead here. With the rain still falling & fuel/water getting low I made the decision to turn around. Within a .8 of a mile I saw a car approaching from behind. My crew. I was not lost, I had just changed counties and this effected the street numbers. So I turned around for the second time. </div><div><br /></div><div>Having to retrace my steps was discouraging so I pulled out the ipod for a little reprieve. It was now past 4am. & I was beginning to get tired. Jeremy waited for me at the turn I feared I had missed and once I reached it we made the decision that I would have to cut the run short when I reached my parent's farm which was supposed to be my final aid station. Severe weather warnings were now being issued, the skies were beginning to turn that eerie shade of green & the wind was picking up. Thankfully the sun was beginning to rise away from the storm-clouds and the rain stopped, renewing some energy. </div><div><br /></div><div>With the shorter distance now in mind I picked up the pace. If I wasn't going to make it to the 35-40miles I had set as my hypothetical goal, I was going to haul. My legs were feeling pretty hashed by then, but they still managed to run swift. Finally I was onto familiar terrain again & knew I would at least make my goal, running farther than I had ever run before.</div><div><br /></div><div>I reached my family's property-line at 33.45 miles & proceeded to run around the house to round the mileage out at 33.5. </div><div><br /></div><div>It may not have been as epic as I hoped, but it was still epic. I overcame irrational fears, rain & fatigue. Another great night, another blessed run.</div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-55417192292614991692010-06-20T16:56:00.000-07:002010-06-20T20:28:10.658-07:00Liberty 70.3 | One Breath at a Time<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>It's another Saturday morning, but this morning starts off far different than most. The alarm goes off promptly at 5am. I instantly jolt awake without a wisp of lingering fatigue. I have slept well. As I eye over my tech gear & mix together bottles of fuel in the hotel bathroom I look up into the mirror to see the numbers 294 on my right bicep then tell myself "Today you <b>will</b> travel 70.3 miles." The concept now mentally stated, doesn't sink in. <div><br /></div><div>The bike gets loaded into the car then my husband & I head to the race start. As we near the Baker Reserve I am reminded of the hills. This would happen many times today, except I would be on two wheels instead of four. I decide to quiet my apprehension by turning my focus to forcing myself to eat breakfast, a bagel w/ cream cheese & a strawberry Odwalla drink.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Entering the park cyclists are everywhere and the transition area is quickly filling. It's a "first come, first serve" method of picking your spot, so I choose the best spot available as close to the bike exit as possible. I don't want to run in my bike shoes any farther than necessary, it's slow & inefficient. Having practiced T1 & T2 in my living room earlier in the week makes setting up my area easy.</div><div><br /></div><div>I spot Maggie & Cory who have been on the road since 3am. They have come to cheer me on. At this point I am still struggling to get my game face on, but Maggie's contagious energy helps get me focused. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8b78a_xrSzu92YPxMPf-XwLumGrV8yPQKw6GkIZ96avNxYFAsWyeBYZ1eLxr2rg4-M6MVHXl3SYLFGq42WXdWYn0_GwZJoNWtT7S4d9yPd9inI5s_mOQVoBhmdgym3vp8O6V8VP_AOc/s400/DSCN2728.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485015159181828050" /><div>After retrieving my swim-cap from the car and making my way to the lake to get suited up, I notice that I am a bit behind. Almost everyone is already gathered for the pre-race meeting and separating into their waves.</div><div><br /></div><div>I quickly get lubed up & into my wetsuit, pray with my hubby and then wade out into the water to test my cap/goggle positioning and fill the suit for buoyancy. Everything seems good, the water is calm & warm. A few waves are released then I navigate my way towards others in white swim caps noting that none of them are near my age. I am in the final wave of the half iron distance and it's an odd mix of whatever age groups were left over. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">Swim 1.2 Miles| Time 42:38 </span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><b>- :11 from '09 race</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Finally it is our turn. 5...4...3...2...1... We are a lively bunch, cheering wildly as we charge into the water.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>The first 100 yards are smooth, then the boxing match begins. My feet are stroked, my torso bumped. Any rhythm I had going is disappointingly thrown off. As I pop up to sight making sure I am not the one zig-zagging and bumping into people I notice that the buoy to indicate our turn-around is beyond my sight. Doubt begins to grip me like the weeds uprooted by other swimmers now gathering around my neck. If I don't find my calm again, this is going to be a long 1.2 miles. If the swim takes too long I wont finish the bike in time and they wont let me continue onto the run, all I want is to make it to the run. Prayers/Scripture start swirling in my mind & I eventually hand my doubt over.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>When I alternate to breathe on the left side I see a yellow buoy, while a little bummed it is for the olympic distance turn-around, this means I am getting close to ours. I zig-zag a bit but manage to line up perfectly for the turn-around, rounding the buoy. The wind kicks up a bit and I am unable to breathe to the left from this point onward, the smell of gas burning off of the boat motors is horrendous.</div><div><br /></div><div>Knowing I only have a 1/2mile left I tell myself "chin down, like in jiu-jitsu." and like that my rhythm is back. I start gaining on other swimmers in my wave and other weaker swimmers from the previous wave. Then the olympic distance swimmers & half iron course merge, the olys are fast and even though I am passed this pushes me to go faster. In the last 300 yards I cycle through my mental check-list of what I need to do in T1 over & over.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">T1 | Time 2:41</span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><b>-0:01 from '09 race</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>At last I reach the shore. I have been laying face down for 40+ minutes making standing, then running out of the water & up the stairs to the transition area pretty disorienting. It feels like my body is buried in a thick fog, legs are heavy, but I manage to keep my head and easily spot the pirate flag where my bike is. My cheering crew encourages me as I transition. The air is cool & refreshing. I feel good. </div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">Bike 56 Miles | Time 3:17:45 | 17mph Avg.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">-00:05:08 from '09 race</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">Fuel| 2 Perpetuem Bottles, 1 HEED bottle & 1 Pkg. of Sport Beans</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>Glancing down at my Garmin I see the time and know I was close to goal time on my swim keeping me on track to make it back in time for the run. Miles begin to pass & my bottle of Perpetuem has never tasted so good. Dry-mouth was an issue during the swim. It is an odd sensation being thirsty and engulfed by water at the same time.</div><div><br /></div><div>My mind is focused on fueling & recovering from the swim making the first 15-20miles go by without much thought. A lot of cyclists pass me in the first 20miles. I am not a strong cyclist so this doesn't bother me, but is rather expected. Words of encouragement are exchanged as they quickly move out of drafting distance and I continue on. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Having spent literally 1/2 the time on the bike training in comparison to last year, I knew 56 miles would be rough, but I had tested my self several weeks ago on a 54 mile ride just to make sure I could still do it & I could. It was hard, but I did it. Today I had the energy & adrenaline to push me along and I would ride that roller coaster hill after hill after hill. </div><div><br /></div><div>Memory had been kind in letting me forget a lot of the hills along the course, but one still stood out in my mind from last year. My heart rate redlined & it took a ton of effort to climb, making me utterly exhausted at the top. The looped course meant climbing this twice. 26ish miles into the bike, I was face to face with it. This time it was different, all of the hills leading up to this one only helped cement my technique and my quads dominated. I actually passed a few people on uphills. When I reached "Everest" it was still difficult, but I was able to charge up it and my heart-rate quickly recovered at the top.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>At mile 32 things started to get tough. The groups of cyclists had now thinned out rolling along at their various paces. I could hear no one behind me and barely see the next person ahead. Energy was starting to lull and the hills were starting to take their toll. My average pace started to tick down from 17.2 to 17.1 to 17.0, I wasn't about to let go of a 17mph so I started fighting & fighting hard. My brain & body separated and the internal juke-box started to take over looping thru choruses of the BEPs, "Eye of the Tiger" (Think Sam & Dean, not Rocky) & Sandstorm. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Around mile 40 a familiar car pulled along side me & I looked over to see Jeremy, Maggie & Cory. Energy was starting to peak back up again, seeing them only added to this. I shouted out my stats and told them that I was doing great with only 12 miles left to go, not knowing then that I had misread one of the mile markers. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I split on to the final leg of the bike course, I am greeted with a headwind. Still battling with everything I had to keep up the pace, I tell myself to ignore it and try to hang on. I would make up the time when I met the turn-around and would then have a tail-wind. <b>Then the skies opened</b>. My tires began kicking up spray all over my backside & my sunglasses started to blur.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I remembered just how long the last 10 miles of the bike felt last year, again memory had been too kind. There was no avoiding this. When it felt like I had biked 5miles the mile markers would tell me I had only biked two. The wind would blast, rain would whip & my energy was depleting. It's times like these that running 5 miles feels faster than biking them, but the run would come soon enough.</div><div><br /></div><div>Those last 10miles were some of the hardest & most inspiring bike miles of my life. I called out to my God for strength & knew without question He heard me. If energy would not come, that was okay, I will give thanks to God in all things. My doubt already handed over, I asked for strength just to race & race well and to glorify Him in some way as the miles passed.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">T2 |Time 3:30 </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">+1:48 from '09 race </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Entering T2 I was thoroughly soaked for the sec</span></span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">ond time. Rain continued to fall steady as I stripped out of my riding gear into my running gear. My toes were tensed up & balled together making it a struggle to pocket them into the toes of my VFFs. I was exhausted & knew it was best to be patient with myself instead of rush & not do it right so I took more time than planned. Temps were in the low 60s, but I opted to go without my running tank as it would only be added weight when drenched & I didn't want to fuss with it. Then I was off on the run...</span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; "><br /></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">Run 13.1 Miles | Time 2:10:23 | Pace 9:57</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">-00:21:20 from '09 race</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;">Fuel| 4 Hammer Gels & 1 pkg. Sport Beans</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; "><br /></span></span></b></div><div>Making my way onto the run course I exchanged a few words of encouragement with another runner. She too had been waiting for the run, it was her prime sport, easily evident as she quickly distanced from me. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the spring I had focused a lot of training on transitioning from the bike to the run. I knew the shin splints & gnarled calf muscles would subside, but it didn't make those first 3miles any easier. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>To add insult to injury my bladder decided it couldn't wait another 10 miles, so I found myself for the first time <b>ever</b> using a porta-john during an event. Being able to sit those few moments was a nice reprieve, but I had to get back out there & I did.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fueling was going well, but carrying the gel flask became an issue. I am used to running with a pack, but had decided to go light with a hand bottle & put the flask into the tiny pocket of my tri-shorts. It started to bounce & I started to get annoyed, so it got shoved into the universal pocket between the ta-tas. This caused a lot of strange looks & laughs from oncoming runners already on their way back from the turn-around, but I could've cared less. You do what you have to do.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>The shin-splints & calves finally loosened roughly 5miles in. The 1-2 ft swath of grass beside the running path made for beautiful footing as I pushed to run smooth. If any time was going to be cut I knew it had to be during the run. My pace hadn't been bad in the last five miles, but I wanted to do better. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>At the turn-around all I wanted was some music, but there would be none. With only a little over a 10k left, I told myself that this race would be exactly what I wanted it to be & with the words in one of Dean Karnases' books "It's supposed to hurt like hell." fresh on my mind I started to pick up the pace. My body cried out to walk, not because of pain, but because the exhaustion was so high. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Then I started to get annoyed by the kind aid-station workers offering me fuel. This has never happened to me before. Four people in a line all asking me if I wanted to same thing & I having to answer them was more energy than I had to extend. So I began yelling out a stern "no" as I entered a station and trying to make up for it by saying things like "thanks for being here. I appreciate it". Seeing people was nice, but I just wanted to get to the finish. </div><div><br /></div><div>At mile 8 I was done with the flask & had started to chafe where it rubbed against my chest so I threw it away. Anything that wasn't vital to me finishing wasn't going to be carried.</div><div><br /></div><div>My body while still calling out to walk would only be allowed when I had to pee. And pee I did, at least 6 times in the final 5 miles. Bathrooms were hard to come by & the rain was still pouring down so I learned something I never thought I'd do, pee on the go. This stung the sores on my feet that were beginning to form from areas where the VFFs were rubbing, but I pushed that behind me knowing that I could hurt when I was done, but not now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Miles 9-11 I spent with my eyes closed roughly 40% of the time. It was the only way I could zone out & still run swift. Thankfully the VFFs made it easy to tell if I was swerving off course. The internal juke-box switched on again looping thru everything from Techno to Enya, sometimes both at once. My mind was an interesting place to be.</div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; "><br /></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Reaching the campground with only a mile to go I started to lay the hammer down. The smell of the smoke from burnig campfires wasn't going to deter me. I was going to finish strong.</span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; "><br /></span></span></b></div><div>I made my way down the final slope of the course & saw a man in red. From that point on all I wanted to do was beat the man in red. I waited until I was within a long sprinting distance of the finish and began hauling. One stride at a time, one breath at a time, counting to ten & then starting again. </div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><br /></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 145px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopeEsU4SW0TU8J1QvHdxca-XTPYvX-Uxoymx5JLhk2lyJGUzUwBiTmOlRqwWnEyehbqguKooB8A1uDepshstOCXqQpk6BkdEb4AU3aBtvUkBUjYBNsOkfzWlsAuZet47IDDqedr3Uoak/s400/Trio.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485050297077271858" /></div><div><br /></div><div>He didn't see what was coming, I passed quickly and gained quite the lead. There would be no catching up. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Then I saw the gate & sprinted out everything I had left </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC33;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">to cross the</span></span> FINISH in 6:16:53 resulting in a -00:25:06 PR!!!</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh56_QT6bB4FFgXTSvnrl8Gg_MebnsBWtXLIjdAu6xdjgcY01Y2VgB5TjiEVk8R8zkJbHgkeusIb98Y8tV5Zu3pJHr4B0OVvJXCty5UQco_p1Q1ns26emM6cffEp3CKbT2494g40F2S7I/s400/liberty.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485050765448714098" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /></div><div><br /></div><div>I left the race that day 100% spent, 100% joyful & 100% ready to take on the next endeavor. T-minus 68 days until Lean Horse. </div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-50430457002350550402010-05-17T10:53:00.001-07:002010-05-25T08:46:15.958-07:00Superior Trail 50k Ultra | Race Report<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgra_yjERyupPBtzUeM4DeK4i3Q9M3d35Co_WsX5K4ByJ6ez8uxXbYeSGvQYxfFOyct_dpTOC-_8f01HQ2ggoPx0aE-w9JrcQlo5xnu9s0jVYMwp6DCviZOhoIn30Xe20i12qB1EheW_Vc/s1600/Stfinish.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgra_yjERyupPBtzUeM4DeK4i3Q9M3d35Co_WsX5K4ByJ6ez8uxXbYeSGvQYxfFOyct_dpTOC-_8f01HQ2ggoPx0aE-w9JrcQlo5xnu9s0jVYMwp6DCviZOhoIn30Xe20i12qB1EheW_Vc/s400/Stfinish.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475234384162431698" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">This race will forever stand out in my memory as the 50k that almost wasn't & how God can turn things around.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last week I was an angsty & emotional pain riddled puddle in the days following a stellar <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGai8USb6z8">16mi trail run</a> with the ultra crew. Our final long-run before Saturday's race. </div><div><br /></div><div>My mystery injury started to creep back into my left leg and both hip joints felt like pins. I made several trips to the chiropractor with some, yet limited relief. On Wednesday I woke up feeling the worst I had felt all week, it hurt to stand straight. The inside of my thigh, quad & hips wouldn't let me forget they were there. I cried, I pouted, I resigned myself to the fact that I was somehow "Injured" and would have to let go of the idea of racing this weekend & may have to rethink my long-term goals if I couldn't get this mystery injury under control. It was a rough. (Thanks again to my Husband & Ultra-crew for putting up with me in this time.) </div><div><br /></div><div>As a last ditch effort I started taking the prescriptions the Dr. had prescribed earlier for this injury. They didn't work well the first time around, but I was still hoping deep down below the resignation for a miracle. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thursday morning I woke up feeling markedly better, but not "fixed". I had to decide by noon whether to even attempt to race, so I went out on a test & what turned out to be a prayer run. The run went okay, so I took a deep breath swallowed and decided that I would rather DNF than DNS. My goal was to at least make it to the 50k turn around & drop out there.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC00;">This is what happened...</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I continued to improve over the next day, despite being stuck in a car for the 7hrs of travel from Fargo to Lutsen. The whole ride up I went over my game-plan. No real race day expectations, but to get to the start and how I wanted to cope if it all hit the fan. After arriving at the resort/race location and talking with Maggie over fueling/gear choices I finally headed to bed. Slept well, woke up relaxed & was actually able to eat my entire breakfast before heading to the start-line.</div><div><br /></div><div>As Maggie & I walked to the starting line there were muscles, gaiters & hydration packs everywhere. Of course they were attached to runners a few of which we introduced ourselves to. This would happen many times in the next 31miles. I met so many wonderful people!</div><div><br /></div><div>Like my previous 50k, someone counted down from 10 & then we were off.</div><div><br /></div><div>The race starts out with a switchback climb up two of the "mountains" at Lutsen. Adrenaline was high so while I felt the toll of the climbs, it was bearable. I made sure to put myself near the back of the pack as I was unsure of how my body would respond to racing and with so much of the terrain being single-track I didn't want to get in the way.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyNTvexlDRKTNbjyt95cy89TPP3Yj0D56boez3ak18sN3WqmumFiqI9EUFO7vhOSo3eYfy_eIWcLQR0XWwckdnkcFjSkiNlT6LbAS5a1pcXXpH0BnurL_0zl3tVxBXLPJMpb_TPw5rbc/s400/dnc-6876q65b.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472317828409384962" /></div><div><br /></div><div>By mile 4 I was ready to start moving up the line, so was Maggie. All of the speed-walk training we have done really shined on the uphills, we gained a lot of ground here. As single track trails are, often there is only enough room for one or two people to pass at a time. Maggie & I got separated several times before the first aid station and I had wait for my opening then push to get caught up with her and the other runners at our pace. We both carried enough fuel/water for 15miles of running so we handed off the extra layers of clothing to our crew at the aid station and quickly passed thru it without taking anything. </div><div><br /></div><div>Around mile 9 Maggie stopped to adjust her gear, I slowed a little, but kept running assuming that she would catch back up again just as I had when we got separated earlier. Every now and then I would catch a glimpse of her pink bandana in the woods. Then my body said "today is your day, go for it". Eventually the woods got thicker & we got spaced further apart.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ultramarathons are absolutely phenomenal when it comes to the conversations & encouragement you experience during the event. I felt so blessed by the similarly paced runners I was grouped with during this section. Blue leopard gaiters lady, Dual hand-bottles guy, Defined muddy calf dude...sorry I can't remember your names, but it was a pleasure to run with you!</div><div><br /></div><div>We reached the next aid station about two miles from the 50k turn around. I heard my husband's distinctive whistle, shouted out that I was feeling great and gained more ground while others stopped to refuel. My plan was to refill my hydration pack & grab out additional fuel from the back pocket when I hit the A.S. on my way back. The 2 miles up to the turn around started out through a super soggy/muddy area and then it was climb time. Again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Towards the top it was more like bouldering, the rocks were that big. Whatever goes up, must come down & downhill was sweet. I exchanged cheers with the runners I met on their way up. I love out & back courses for this reason, it is so uplifting! </div><div><br /></div><div>By the time I reached the aid station again I was feeling a few hotspots/blister areas and really wanted fresh socks. Jeremy quickly pulled them out of my bag & before I could even ask him for the vaseline one of the A.S. volunteers handed some to me then proceeded to take my hydration pack & refill the bladder (by this time it was completely dry & I was thirsty). Thank you Sawbill aid station volunteer!</div><div><br /></div><div>I knew the miles between the Sawbill A.S. & the next A.S. were "flatter" so I fueled up and started hauling. I tried hard to avoid walking as I knew miles of switchbacks were coming and I would be doing plenty of it then. These miles still seem surreal to me. Every stride & every breath was completely in tune with the terrain. I was alone in the woods, just me, my God & the trail. It felt as though I had wings! </div><div><br /></div><div>Then I hit a few "shorter" climbs on my way to the final aid station and my guts started to tremor. The tremors started to turn into quakes and I found myself to scanning the woods for a discrete spot to drop trou if I needed to or if nothing else toss cookies where someone wouldn't run thru it. I prayed and then prayed some more, I really didn't want to lose any of my fuel that way. Fueling & hydration up until this point was spot on. Thankfully the threat of dropping trou lessened, but the nausea kept washing over me in waves. I would catch up with & then fall behind the same two guys again and again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Between praying, losing all of the color in my face, lips tingling & taking myself down from tossing cookies I told my mind it was time to take over. I was not about to fall off of my fueling/hydration rhythm. Let me just say that eating when you are feeling like this is extremely difficult, but I did it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I finally reached the last aid station along the course about 8miles from the finish. My husband met me there and helped me as I struggled to grab a few orange slices to put in my pack, gulp down a glass of cola and transfer what I had left for fuel in my pack into the front pockets for easy access. </div><div><br /></div><div>A volunteer was asking each runner how they felt before getting on the trail in hopes of catching those really struggling from getting stuck in the woods feeling crummy with a limited chance of meeting the cut-off time. She told me I looked good. I told her how nauseated I was, but that I was going to continue and would get over it eventually. </div><div><br /></div><div>The nausea & dizziness started to fade as the pop,oranges & sport beans kicked in. A few miles later I again found myself paced with one of the guys I had caught up with & fell behind earlier. Todd kept me company and graciously paced me until about mile 24 when I became strong enough to move ahead. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then it was "catch up with the lady in the pink shirt". Her form was steadfast and beautiful. I started to make my way up to her pace while dominating the speed-walk on switch-backs and at last we were running together. She was such a blessing/inspiration when that last stretch seemed to go on & on & on. We reached the top of the final climb & I could see the finish from the top of the "mountain" several miles away. I glanced down at my watch and saw that if I picked up the pace I had a chance of finishing under 7hrs. This was all it took to spark a flame under my feet. </div><div><br /></div><div>Those final miles were hard, passing those I knew were struggling/had been way ahead of me was hard, but I continued on. Exiting the trail onto the gravel road leading to the finish a bystander/epic cheerer told me there was only a 1/2mi left. I zoned out, running as hard as I could, dropping my pace below an 8:30min/mi. Then I heard the cheering, my husband whistling and glanced up at the clock to see I had blown my sub 7hr goal out of the water to <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCC00;">finish in 6:32.</span></b> </div><div><br /></div><div>I was overwhelmed & I am overwhelmed! To come back from such a crummy week leading up to the race, to rise from the ashes and run the best race of my life is unbelievable. God is so good!</div><div><br /></div><div>Video of my journey...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><object width="420" height="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/H-M1atCACmA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/H-M1atCACmA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="420" height="325"></embed></object></span></div><div><br /></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-69253634636785682202010-04-27T13:41:00.000-07:002010-04-27T21:01:30.852-07:00The case of the mystery injury...Since my last post a lot has happened. 128 miles. Some amazing things, some scary. <div><br /></div><div>I now know that I can bike hills in 30+ mph winds even if I have to literally lean off to one side of my road-bike to keep from being blown over . </div><div><br /></div><div>I also know that in the same week I can run 11miles with numerous hill repeats like this one...</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:12px;"><object width="430" height="335"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/O-zApKav4As&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/O-zApKav4As&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="430" height="335"></embed></object></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Only to get back into town 45 minutes later & realize I've got enough left in me/want to run the 11 miles home at close to race pace. Such a great day!</div><div><br /></div><div>What I don't know is what caused the injury that had me caged for a solid week following a perfect training one. At no point during training did I feel myself tip-toeing injury, so when I woke up Monday feeling kind of sore I assumed it was the normal post long-run muscle fatigue and continued on with my usual light brick. </div><div><br /></div><div>Overall, the brick went well despite noticing some tenderness in my left leg towards the end. By Tuesday morning I was in bad shape, unable to stand completely upright without sharp pain on the inside of my thigh wrapping up towards my hip. </div><div><br /></div><div>After that morning I neglected the ambitious side of my brain & listened to reasoning side. This ultimately meant not training at all for 7 days. It was a long seven days. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually my body started to recover, it was slow to start but relatively quick to finish. A visit to the Dr.'s office on day 8 gave me the peace of mind that nothing was structurally wrong and I was given the okay to begin running at my normal speed this week. Which I am doing, smiling all the while. </div><div><br /></div><div>I still question what brought on this Mystery Injury and how it will effect my race season, but I do know that it was a God given chance to refocus. It's easy to get locked into training, race prep, tri & run talk, etc. And while none of those things are inherently wrong, when it becomes the primary focus, that's a problem. I've had two mottos that have really stood out to me this season. They will both be in permanent marker (sorry hippies, but I'll use it as it doesn't sweat off as easily) on my forearm race day. "Even trashed legs will follow a positive mind." & "In <b>His</b> Time". </div><div><br /></div><div>Truthfully, I have really struggled emotionally, physically & mentally with being injured. This is a new trial for me as injury is something I try very hard to avoid. It has been a tactical 2 weeks trying to work my way back to speed and distance. I still have to be careful. I am now training pain free, but there is some remaining tension in my left hip that I can't quite explain. I am confident and at peace knowing that it will come back to me,<b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">In His Time.</span></b></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-66528217048674027812010-04-05T19:47:00.000-07:002010-04-05T20:13:41.684-07:00The Feet & The Force<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtLNHn-cHyGfIWOW6aCXdYQZbA8TmXzEzzKFfxmhtWQbpK3-8GtFKRSL55dBVnLfFE0SjUEAYI1Ucfoc94ZdvQIv1sRSHR7QL1GO66dRJVp6J6WwEspPYk7iYjP_h1QNj05hX2SCpx0hw/s1600/82230503.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtLNHn-cHyGfIWOW6aCXdYQZbA8TmXzEzzKFfxmhtWQbpK3-8GtFKRSL55dBVnLfFE0SjUEAYI1Ucfoc94ZdvQIv1sRSHR7QL1GO66dRJVp6J6WwEspPYk7iYjP_h1QNj05hX2SCpx0hw/s400/82230503.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456851998225403266" /></a>I'm still convinced I have borrowed someone else's legs and am every bit as convinced that I'd like to hang on to them <b>forever</b>. Deciding what was a reasonable recovery coming off of 2 x 26.2 was interesting, why? Well for one that was an epic amount of mileage for me & two my body was pretty much ready to roll the next day. How is this possible? I have no idea, but I'll take it!<div><br /></div><div>With a recovery run, LSD run, a few short bricks & a rest day down for the week I opted for a shorter run in town this weekend. The ultra crew tried talking me into a night trail run of 20+ miles, but I just wasn't feeling it. Familiar level terrain, mileage I felt up to & the chance to wear my VFFs again (something I had been waiting to do all week as my blisters were healing) took precedence. It was the right choice. </div><div><br /></div><div>The plan was to run 13.1 and I held to that. However, at mile 6 I looked down to see not only Darth Vador but that I was clocking paces between sub-to-mid 8s and I felt fantastic doing it. Weird, this can't be right. Can it? It took about a 1/4 of a mile for me to make the decision to haul my way into a new PR. This was the right choice. Despite several stop lights, plowing into a headwind a good majority of those last 7 miles & wanting to shoot myself the last mile I somehow managed to knock 6 minutes off of my previous 13.1 time which brings my current 13.1 record to 1:56. Heck Yeah! It's been three days, but I'm still jazzed about it. That is all. </div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-62693851855355280692010-03-29T09:13:00.000-07:002010-03-29T09:16:45.271-07:00Round #2 of the Double Marathon Weekend...To say that yesterday, day two of that back-to-back marathon weekend, went surprisingly well is an understatement. Many times during the run I questioned who's body I was borrowing for the day because I was shocked to be feeling so spry & strong. An epic run to finish an epic weekend!<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="430" height="335"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IBHPyHchTMA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IBHPyHchTMA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="430" height="335"></embed></object></span></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-16010117412170199032010-03-27T18:35:00.000-07:002010-03-27T18:50:43.689-07:00Round #1 of the Double 26.2 WeekendSimply put: today was a very blessed day. <div><br /></div><div>With back-to-back 26.2s this is an epic weekend in ultra training for <a href="http://www.leanhorsehundred.com/">Lean Horse</a>. After weeks of deliberation I decided on fairly scenic trail for the first marathon (when we would hopefully feel the strongest/spry) and leave the country gravel roads for the second (when we would be on tired/sore legs.) </div><div><br /></div><div>What I didn't expect was such a good turn out of fellow runners to help pace sections of the trail with Maggie & I, or such comfortable weather, or a body that was agile to the very end. Did I get tired at portions, of course. Did I finish feeling stiff & sorta sore, sure. But can I run a full 26.2 tomorrow, Absolutely. Let's do this!</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's praying that the Lord will allow me to wake up feeling as jolly good as I do right now. :) One can hope.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: -webkit-xxx-large; white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; "><object width="420" height="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/j_NWH_ccdpM&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/j_NWH_ccdpM&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="420" height="325"></embed></object></span><object width="440" height="345"></object></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1843587859053282884.post-13693317424775449952010-03-21T13:57:00.000-07:002010-03-21T14:05:34.669-07:00Time for Trail...The last two months I have been battling on again off again sinus issues which has been as much fun as sand in a speedo. Thankfully it seems I am making my way past the sick all week but healthy enough for the weekend long run followed by a solid training week followed by a full week totally under the weather & stuck in bed cycle. <div><br /></div><div>Despite the illness I have had some great training sessions one of which included 18miles of hills with the ultra crew starting at 4am going off of a few hours of sleep to practice running with a headlamp and fatigue. Believe it or not filming in the dark is as black on camera as it is in person so I didn't bother posting that, but let it be known it was done and actually quite enjoyable. :)<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;">Now for this weekend's fun...</span></div><div><br /></div><div>With Fargo spring flooding and gravel roads in the country getting a bit dull Maggie (a.k.a. the best running buddy a girl could ask for!) & I decided to hit the trail a bit earlier than planned this season. Much to our surprise & delight over 95% of the snow out at Maplewood had already melted making for a stellar 11 miler! </div><div><br /></div><div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 14.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial;font-size:10.0pt;"><object width="430" height="335"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jpglFnp5-zk&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jpglFnp5-zk&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="430" height="335"></embed></object></span><span style="font-size:8.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial;font-size:48.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div></div>RLUhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07718842837402797690noreply@blogger.com3