Capitol Peak 50 mile

11:25 and change. Better than 11:50 two years ago but the course was different. It was a perfect day for running with moderate temperatures all day and no rain. There had been plenty the week before so there was also plenty of mud to contend with at the beginning (and end). I took the early start and set a steady pace through the first half. We climbed up to Capitol Peak the first time along a steep and bolder strewn climb that I was glad not to have to descend later. There were some flatter dirt road sections but also plenty of quad working long downhills in the second half that suited me well for training myself to endure some of the same at Western Sates in June.

I practiced with some new fueling options (Hostess fruit pies) which worked really well but didn't get in enough calories in the last 10 miles so it slowed me up way too much. Not as strong a finish as I had hoped but a finish none the less. Karen Wiggins asked afterward if I was felling ready for WS. Do you ever feel ready for WS? I doubt it.

After the race Rodney and I walked almost all the way back to the RV before I remembered I forgot my drop bags so we turned around and walked back to retrieve them. Then back to the RV again. Then back and forth to the showers before we packed up and drove off for the rest of our vacation week. It must have been helpful because I felt recovered within 24 hours and was back to running normally in 48. I really like these fast recovery times.

Hundred in the Hood - September 25-26 2009

I've procrastinated a while on getting this down in part because I'm finding it hard to sum up the experience of running another 100 miler. It's not surprising I suppose, since more than half of the race I was in the dark and a good portion of that I was in a stupor. I once read that people better remember things they did while they were drunk if they are drunk again than when they are sober. Being out on the trail is likely to conjure up details I've already forgotten but it will be a while before I get out on the PCT again, now that winter is looming.

The race seemed, in my mind, to be a fairly doable accomplishment when I signed up for it. This is an area I've run a number of times. The PCT 50 is partly on the same course and was my first ultra marathon. I've run it several times since then, including just this last July. I felt like the course was reasonable and familiarity with the route would make it seem to go fast.

I planned to do it mostly alone this time, to see what that was like. Frankly, the logistics of trying to figure out how to get a pacer to the right spot and then get them back to their car, etc. was just too much for me to manage so I decided to just manage without. Then I was lucky enough to have my friend Wayne volunteer to run in with me from the 85 mile aid station where he would be volunteering. So, in the end I did get to travel with someone for the last portion. Thanks Wayne!

Glen and me on the way to the race



Ultra Trunk


My husband Rodney came with me this time and my running buddy Glen carpooled up with us as well. We got into Government Camp in the afternoon, checked into the hotel and then drove to the packet pick up. Then we scouted out the crew check points for Rodney to hit the first 28 miles of the race. He did great and was a real big help getting me in and out of the aid stations quickly.






Starting at 5:00 am meant darkness, of course. It was a little chilly but not bad. The first 3 miles or so of trail are notoriously dusty and big clouds of it were kicked up as we headed off into the forest, headlamps not much of a help. Glen and Russ and I stayed close together for much of the morning, leap frogging back and forth and taking turns running point. Occasionally I'd lose sight of Glen and we would "Marco!" "Polo!" signal to each other our relative positions. This was better than looking around and risk tripping and falling.

After it got light the bees came out and just about everyone (except me!) got stung. We seemed to be pushing moderately hard up and over the elevation changes but chatting with each other helped pass the time. However, by the time we got to about the 22 mile aid station I was starting to feel quite a bit more tired than I should have. I decided to ratchet back the pace and began a more conservative strategy with more walking. Glen stayed with me but Russ pulled ahead for the rest of the race, as I expected he would.


At the 28 mile mark and the last aid station I would see Rodney I got together all the things I would need and was required to take (headlamp at 11:30 am?). Off Glen and I went towards the southern 35 mile stretch, the last 20 miles of which would be new to us. It was warming up but it never got very hot and the ice bandanna was enough to keep me cool.


Coming into Horse Camp Aid Station mile 28 where someone brought an Ultra-Puppy that I wanted to take home with me.



Fall was definitely in evidence as we ran under the trees just near the edge of clear cuts and they were filled with tall shrubs turned golden, orange and red in the sun light. It was very beautiful. As I suspected the run up to this point seemed to pass fairly quickly. After we passed the aid station at Warm Springs Meadows (great pumpkin bread - thanks guys!) the trail was new territory. We climbed and climbed quite a bit before hitting the Pinheads aid station where Wayne was helping out. They made me a great burrito and I refueled at an increasingly leisurely pace, a time wasting trend throughout the rest of my run.

The following section of trail was a 10 mile stretch before the next aid and the promised water drop at the mid point didn't materialize, but we anticipated this after leaving Pinheads. Someone did traipse down the trail about a mile or so and dropped off some water bottles and I topped off a little. This stretch seemed to really take a lot out of Glen's generally upbeat mood. The lack of aid and the constant climbing did not settle well. Well, let's face it, 55 miles into a race of 100 is pretty much a no man's land. You're barely into the meat of the race and so far from it's end that every step seems pretty meager in it's impact towards drawing you closer to the end. About a mile from the aid station someone had traipsed up with water again and we replenished a little bit, being careful to save some of the limited supply for those who would be coming later.

Finally we came to the turnoff to the Olallie camp ground aid station which was accessible to crew and buzzing with activity. We passed Russ who was leaving just as we were heading in. I had a volunteer to find me my drop box and Glen picked up Jerry, his pacer for the next stretch to the turn around and back.

I focused on getting myself ready for the upcoming darkness. This was the only aspect of running the race without a pacer that had me a bit spooked - running alone in the wilderness in the dark. I had a secret weapon to keep me going alone in the dark. My sister had given me a safety vest for Christmas in anticipation of just this need. This was no ordinary reflective vest. It was super reflective and...it had red flashing LED lights all over it! I looked like a moving runway! Or a Christmas tree, as I was frequently told.

It wasn't quite dark when I left the aid station but I was outfitted and ready to go. Glen left ahead of me with Jerry. The next section was rocky and less runnable and the main regret I had was that as it got dark I missed out on what must have been some really great views. Right at dusk, not 30 minutes out of the aid station I passed Jerry who was standing in the trail waiting for Glen who was off in the bushes. Apparently he hit a low point and he was having some problems. Luckily he was in good hands and so I pressed on.

Once it got dark I turned on the flashing vest and my head lamp. I had also recently bought a hand help Fenix flashlight that was compact but bright enough to signal outer space. Wow! Never underestimate the advantage of adequate light on your ability to run in the dark. Seriously; get the best and brightest lighting you can afford and you won't be sorry. I was able to really keep moving at a decent (for me) pace despite the rocks and hills because I could see them really well, even when it was pitch dark. I had to change the batteries once in the night but that was a small price to pay for really, really great lighting.

There were some boulder fields that we passed through. The best I could make out in the dark was that we were crossing a steep slope on a thin sliver of trail through a swath of rocks. Up over my head on the left they were stacked one on top of the other, some the size of refrigerators which were stacked on top of VW sized ones. Hoping not 1) to be in the boulder field during an earthquake that would send them all down upon my head and 2) to trip and fall off to my right were the boulders seemed to resemble more of a cliff leading to an abyss, I ran/walked gingerly but as quickly as possible. Luckily I had my FLASHING safety vest. If I did fall over the edge, someone was likely to see me flashing down below making body recover more likely.

A lot of people were heading towards me on their return from the turnaround and I had quite a few comments about my flashing lights. "Wow! Great Vest - looks like Christmas." "Safety First!" was my usual reply.

The final stretch to the turnaround aid station included lots of climbing and more rocks and some meadow crossings. There was one tricky trail intersection that I navigated correctly and eventually people (after they commented on my vest) started to tell me I wasn't far from the aid station. With a few minutes to go I bumped into Russ on his way back out. He was still running with his friend Gary and they seemed to be upbeat.

I found a chair at the aid station and sat down, waited on by volunteers who brought me food and drink while I changed socks and patched a hot spot on my right heel. I had some tights in my drop box but it wasn't really that cold so I left them there. I was glad that we seemed to have hit the end of summer weather rather than touched the beginning of fall considering the timing of the race so late in September. Getting snow or rain this time of year wouldn't be unheard of.

Replenished and satisfied, all I had to do was turn around and go back the way I came and I'd be back at the finish line in no time! Ha! Well, it was a pleasant thought that kept me going for the time being. My flashing vest and I headed back out onto the trail, probably scaring all the little critters in the woods. Almost as soon as I got back out onto the trail it seemed to get colder. A lot colder. I had on my long sleeved shirt over my short sleeved shirt, my hat, my vest and my wool socks but I was still not generating enough heat to stay comfortable all the time. I passed through little micro climates of chill and warmth but the chilly spots began to predominate. It motivated me to keep moving faster but the rocky terrain slowed me to a walk far too often.

While I was making my way back through rocks, hills, meadows, and tricky trail intersections I'd occasionally look over my shoulder at a headlamp coming up behind me, up on the ridge above. It took me a while to realize it was the moon peaking over the ridge and not someone with a headlamp. Eventually I made it to the potato soup aid station and it was nice and warm. I stayed too long but tried to eat and warm up a bit before heading out again.

The trip to the Olallie camp ground aid station was even more chilling. The rocks were harder still to navigate safely despite my adequate lighting. By the time I got there I was shivering and wondering how I would stay warm for the rest of the run. Once again, Russ was leaving just as I was heading in. As I entered the lights and activity of the aid station I saw Kevin, Glen's next pacer, wrapped up in a sleeping bag looking very warm and cozy. Like a tractor beam I was drawn to his warmth and he stood up and then kindly opened up his arms and wrapped the sleeping bag around me and let me suck all the heat out of him. That's what women really want from men, you know. Body heat. Kevin sacrificed his own comfort and handed the sleeping bag over to me to use while I sat and refueled and considered my resources for getting through the cold night. The temps were reported to be at freezing. And I had left my tights at the turn around. I never run at freezing temps in shorts, and there's a reason why. It's too cold! BRRRRRR!

Hot soup helped. Pumpkin pie helped. I had spare wool socks so they became mittens and then my best idea mimicked what I saw happening around me with some other runners who were wrapped in garbage bags with duct tape. I had a cheap rain poncho (in case it rained) and I put that over my clothes and under my vest and the hood pulled up over my head and my beanie pulled over that. This combination really worked pretty well and it saved my race from a potential DNF due to hypothermia. Reluctantly I left behind the sleeping bag and headed out onto the trail again and the next 10 mile section. Alone. Into the cold, dark woods. Glen and Kevin caught up to me and I tried to keep up as they passed but they were moving too fast and pulled on ahead. I never saw them again on the trail. Go Glen!

I'll admit that the flashing lights kept me company at first but eventually as I got more tired and sleepy they became unpleasantly mesmerizing. I started to notice the flashing on the rims of my glasses. It was startling to get annoying so I turned them off for a while. Then I'd think about how I was alone out there and who would find me if I got lost so I'd turn them back on again. Then off. Then on. I must have resembled some sort of deranged fire fly.

Although I had anticipated being pacer-less would be kind of scary in the dark, what I hadn't counted on was the factor of sleepiness. I haven't ever had much problem staying up all night if I'm busy. I don't really remember getting sleepy at my last 100 miler and I now realize that was in large part due to having Russ there to keep me company. We were busy gabbing so I don't remember getting sleepy. But alone in the dark, flashing vest or not, I was getting mighty drowsy. And I started to feel sorry for myself. Poor me. Cold. Tired. Alone. In the dark. Boo Hoo. Eventually it seemed ridiculous to me to get so worked up over something I volunteered to do. For fun. After some internal eye-rolling I turned my vest back on and told my brain to "shut up" and I just kept moving.

At some point in this stretch of no-man's-land I noticed some lights in a clearing off to my left. There was a guy sitting in a chair over there where an aid station was suppose to be (but was canceled due to extreme access problems). "Are you the sweep?" he asked me. Huh? What? "No..." Apparently he was a ham operator who had packed it out there to keep an eye on people passing through. He must have thought my flashing vest was an official sign of something. He must have been cold and tired too and hoped the ordeal was almost over. Sorry to disappoint. I'm just a fire fly passing through.

Next I saw a fellow runner sitting slumped on a stump by the side of the trail with his head in his hands. Concerned, I put my arm around him and asked if he was OK only to have him startle awake. "I was just sleeping!" Oops. Sorry to wake you and I was off "in a flash." Poor guy. I found out later that he dropped at the next aid station because he was sleep running - not a safe mode of transportation. I wish it had occurred to me to have him come along and we could keep each other awake. Sorry Anil!

Finally I got to the Pinheads aid station and my pacer who would save me from sleep running and self pity. I sat and ate and eventually was kicked back onto the trail by Wayne. I knew there were just two more aid stations before the end and it seemed not impossible to actually get there.

Funny how things seemed to just get slower and farther the longer I was out there. And fuzzy. I have very limited recollection of the last 15 miles, especially those in the dark. I remember we did finally make it to the next to the last aid station and it was still dark. And Russ was there and I couldn't believe him when he said he was dropping out! But why? "Dead quads." Don't you just want to try making it to one more aid station before you decide? He was sure he was done and I didn't want to keep badgering him but I felt bad. I don't think I've ever known anyone who was more ready to tackle a 100 miler. It just wasn't right, but he seemed at peace with his decision and in the end that's all that matters.

Reluctantly but gratefully I let Wayne get me back on my feet and we headed out to a long downhill section which I new was followed by a creek crossing on a little bridge then a moderate uphill (I ran most of it during the 50 miler so how hard could it be?) and then the last aid station before a sweet 6 mile downhill section to the finish. Piece of cake, right? And the coming of dawn will re-spark me and make the final push even more speedy. Right?

Wrong. Sure the trail went down, then the bridge then the steep uphill for...just...a...short...while...but maybe just a bit longer than I remember...quite a bit longer. I don't remember it being so steep for so long. Crap. Now I'm walking. More walking. No running, more up, more up, more up, more up, more up, more walking. There's the dawn! I don't feel ANY burst of energy. I'm dejected that I had been able to run this section before but now it's all different and much harder. Drat. My triumphant finish will be taking a bit longer than I had hoped.

The final aid station was very low key. Everyone looked very tired: runners, volunteers, trees, dirt, air. Digressing into a fatigue shrouded babble, I ditched my rain poncho and I reluctantly swallowed a raspberry gel as we headed out. Before long I was actually running on a sweet section of gentle downhill. But this didn't last for long and too soon I was walking that which was perfectly runnable. What a waste of great trail.

We tried to do the math about my progress. It looked like I wouldn't be able to come in faster than my last 100 miler. I was going to be over an hour slower than last time. Realizing the hopelessness of pushing hard just to come in not quite as slow, I gave up trying. I walked. I saw electrical transformer boxes on the side of the trail. I saw people waiting on the side of the trail around every corner. As I got closer to these objects they transformed into the trees and bushes they really were. I was not actually having hallucinations (seeing something that's not really there), but illusions (misinterpreting something that actually is there).

Then I began to sense someone was running behind us...now I was motivated not to get passed in the last few miles so I started running again, slowly, but at least I was moving faster than a walk! It got really quiet behind me so I turned around to see if Wayne was still there and there he was, walking and able to keep up very easily with my snail's pace run. Sheesh, if I can walk as fast as I can "run" why waste my energy "running?" There wasn't really anyone behind us anyway.

I won't bore the reader here with the true perception I had of time nearly standing still and the never ending trail and the growing fatigue I was experiencing. But just imagine it for about another hour or so and you'll have some idea of how it felt in person.

Finally, the last stretch, and I have to pretend I can still run up onto the road and up the driveway to the finish line. Rodney's there waiting, as are Glen and Jerry and Kevin. I get my finishers prize and some extra swag and then find a chair by the fire to check out my feet and to rest. I was happy to be done and happy to have a second 100 miler under my belt.

Wayne disappeared and I didn't hear from him again until later that afternoon by email. After a short nap he was able to recalculate my finishing time and, as it turns out, I was an hour faster than we had thought. I did beat my previous time by 22 minutes on a course that was 2.1 miles longer (103 miles). It must have been because of the flashing safety vest, right?

Once again, it goes without saying that I couldn't have done this without the generous help of the volunteers who put on this race. No one gets paid for their trouble and I appreciate the sacrifices they made so that I could have the opportunity to run 100 (+) miles on the PCT.

Vacation Running

Hawaii June 2009

My sister, Karen, and I went to Hawaii in June. We were hosted by a friend of hers who graciously allowed me to crash in along with a whole slew of other friends and family to celebrate his daughter's graduation from high school. Karen and I used the opportunity to do some great trail running on Oahu.

Here's the start of the trail on the wet side of the island.


We headed out on an 11 mile out and back section, not sure how far we would go. It was fairly dry and the views were great so we stopped a lot to take pictures.













Eventually we found a detour to a waterfall and decided to go check it out.








On the return trip to the car Karen takes a spill off the trail. I heard a crash and then a "help!" and when I ran back I found Karen dangling off the edge of a steep bank clinging to the bushes to keep from falling off into oblivion. After I pulled her back onto the trail she displays here wounds:
Good times! We finished off the morning by stopping for breakfast at a great local place where I had macadamia nut pancakes.

Ketchican, Alaska August 2009

To celebrate the 50th wedding anniversary of my parents we went on a cruise to Alaska. While in Ketchikan, Karen and I went trail running. We headed north by taxi then hit the trails on foot. A park ranger helped us pick out some nice places to explore. It rained buckets the whole time. We passed streams just packed with salmon heading for their spawning grounds.












We ran into some locals walking on the trail and they were very friendly and interested that two cruise ship passengers would make up their own land excursion this way.

We went around a lake and saw some guys from Alabama fishing for salmon. They were helped out by a park ranger.






One of the "trails" was board walk for several miles since the ground was unsuitable for trail making otherwise. It was steep and rooty and beautiful. We kept up a constant chatter to avoid scaring up any bears.









The trail ended up at a lake:





On the route home we ran on the highway that we had previously bypassed by taking the taxi. It was still pouring and the traffic whizzing by made it not much fun. Eventually up ahead I saw a car pulled over, just sitting there like the driver was waiting for us. She was! It was one of the locals we had talked to on the trail. She saw us on the road headed back to the ship and wondered if we might not like a lift back into town to avoid the last 3 miles of highway running! Cold and tired and soaking wet, we accepted! The locals are very friendly! Thanks Wendy!

It was a great day.

Where's Waldo? 100K

August 22, 2009

This race is my Nemesis. Two years ago this race almost killed me just three miles from the end. It left me broken and in need of rescue. Literally. (Rodney has commented more than once that they should rename the race from "Where's Waldo" to "Where's Kate?") This year, as I trained for my second attempt at the 100 mile distance (Hundred in the Hood, September 26th-27th), Waldo 100K figured prominently in my training plan. I'll admit that it's been psychologically a bigger focus. I was determined to finish this year and not be a shivering heap at the end. OK, I'll take just finishing. Since you only get a finishers hat if you finish by the 18 hour mark, all day long the mantra was "must get hat...must get hat." That's worth nearly collapsing for, isn't it? Well, I thought so.

At the pre-race briefing on Friday night I got called out by the RD to explain to the crowd what the proper procedure should be if one must leave the trail (my previous mistake) so as not to get missed by the sweeps. I deserved that. Embarrassing me in front of my friends. "Always leave something on the trail at the point you left the trail. A water bottle, a pack a flashing head lamp...something. That way the sweeps will know not to pass you by." Maybe we can let this rest now.

The day of the race started out at night. 3AM is the early start time, 2 hours before the regular starters. So there we were, about 50 of us, huddled waiting for the start. I didn't mean to, but no one else was stepping up to the line. Every one of us early starters must be so used to being at the back of the pack, that's where we all lined up...even though there wasn't anyone up front to line up behind. So I jumped to the front and a few brave souls toed the line with me and for a few brief yards I lead the race. After the first minute of warm up we hit the first big hill and up we started walking.

It was still dark as we traversed the trail sections I had helped clear and grade during my weekend of trail work the month before. Just before the first aid station we ran onto a gravel road and the stars were bright enough (and the road smooth enough) that I turned off my head lamp so I could enjoy the overhead show for a while. It was beautiful. The regular starters don't get to enjoy this.

After the first aid station we eventually came into the dawn and before the Fuji aid station the headlamps went off. I climbed up the slope, as I had last time, and it didn't seem really bad (knowing that later it gets much worse). There were some bee hives near by and we heard some really load buzzing off trail. Mental note: "Not a good place to try a pit stop."

The top of Fuji this year showed a non-fog shrouded view. Beautiful in the early sunrise.





Down we ran to the Fuji aid station and off to Mt. Ray. The ups become more down and it's a fun stretch so before you know it, another aid station is down. Now it's off to The Twins. It's getting hotter already but it never gets really bad this day. My friend and car pool buddy, Glen, is nearby and we run together for most of the rest of this race. The ground is dry the trees are tall the air is thin. It's the Oregon Cascades at their best. Soon enough there's the Head-Banger Rock -n-roll aid station which is The Twins. After fueling up with pancakes and various junk food we take off for the next aid station at Charlton Lake. My splits sheet tells me I'm ahead of my pace from two years ago. "Must get hat...must get hat."

Sure enough it's getting hotter but it's not too bad with my ice bandanna around my neck. Nothing eventful happens and we keep up a decent pace to the Lake aid station for more chow and a short rest at the half way point. I decide that a nice cool dip in the lake is warranted especially since I remember that then next section is more exposed and it's getting to be the hot part of the day. I took off my pack and laid down in the cold water. Refreshing! Too soon we leave the lake side scenery and head into a section with new tree growth but I can see they are already a lot bigger than they were two years ago. At the next aid station we have some more great volunteers who get us prepped for the following section of trail back to The Twins which is long and steep and tiring (unlike the rest of the course, right?).

Sure enough, eventually we're trudging. But we're still moving. Eventually we pass through a nice meadow section and some riders on horseback are standing there asking us how we're doing. We're fine, even if we look tired. "Are you sure you're ok? Do you need some water?" I guess we looked haggard. Our other car pool buddy Jerry passed us here, he being part of the regular starters. Relieved when we get to the final downhill before the aid station we let it fly and had a fine run down into the hands of the Head-Bangers. This time they offered us frozen Popsicles! And mind you, they had to carry in everything for the aid station...for 1.5 miles. UPHILL. The ice cold refreshment was spectacular. Glen urged me to get moving, rather than to get comfortable, and so we spanked the monkey and headed out.



After the Twins climb we shuffled a bit more on the downs and trudged a bit more on the ups and I knew the most challenging climb up Maiden Peak still loomed ahead. I was still ahead of my splits from last time and didn't feel like I was falling apart so I just tried to keep up with Glen. Eventually we saw a big tree that went down a few years ago and had a large rock embedded in it's roots.


There must be some analogy here. Am I the tree or am I the rock? Such a line of thinking began to hurt my brain so I shut my brain off and just keep my legs moving. When we got the the aid station at the foot of Maiden Peak, there again we were greeted by volunteers with frozen pops! And this time they had carried all of the supplies in UPHILL for 3 MILES! Forever Grateful is too small of a phrase.

I tried to fuel up for the next climb of just 2.5 miles. How long should that take? Apparently it's about a 1 hour 32 minute endeavor. Holy cow that's a slow climb. Apparently a lack of oxygen affects me this way. Luckily this time I expected it so I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and didn't falter, even as Glen faded off into the distance. More power to him! Eventually I saw him on his way down when I was just a few minutes from the top. He took off towards the finish, never looking back and running strong to come in 20 minutes ahead of me. And finally I made it to the top too. Whew! I made it and I wasn't in tears!

Next I went down, down , down off the peak, through the pumice, careful on the tricky parts...no falling but good quad destroying steepness. Back to runnable downhill and into the last and fateful aid station that was the beginning of my end the last time around. I calmly sat and ate while another wonderful volunteer massaged my shoulders. I tried to avoid doing anything close to what I had done last time. NO BROTH!!



So, off I head down that last 7 mile stretch. I don't feel great but I don't feel horrible. I don't have much of a stomach and even though I feel pretty thirsty I get nauseated when I drink. I'm so afraid of doing something wrong that I try not to do much of anything. Wrong strategy. I throw away all but a small swallow of the contents of my water bottle. Wrong strategy. I really wanted to try that drinking thing again later but didn't have the option.

So I'm finally reduced from a shuffle to a trudge shuffle - walking flats and much of the downhills. I started to feel really bad and just hoped that I could hold it together enough to finish this time. I passed the point of my last demise and didn't linger. Three more miles should be over in a flash! Those miles seemed like 8. Honestly, it never seemed to end, even though I had hiked this section of trail during the trail work weekend and it didn't seem that bad then. At this point it seemed nearly insurmountable. But nearly isn't actually and thank god for that. I passed by the sweeps who were sitting trail-side waiting for us stragglers to pass before they started their work. I knew two of them and they knew my previous history of late race crash devilment. I put on a good show of strength to prove to them, and myself, that I was fine and I'd be finishing this time.

Run/shuffle a few steps, walk a few, think how weak and lame I am for walking that which is runnable so I start shuffling again. Again reduced to walking. Pathetic. Must get hat. Must get hat. Must get hat. My mouth id so dry but I have nothing to drink. I got rid of it so I wouldn't have to carry it. Stupid brain. Low on fuel and fluids I finally make that last turn onto the home stretch and see the finish line area off in the distance. By this time I've recalculated my finishing time and made adjustments half a dozen times and with half a mile to go I think I can get in under the 17 hour mark. I do. Just barely, in 16:58:55 and I'm the last female finisher of the race.

I've never been so exhausted in my whole life. The elevation of this race really kicked my butt. Even my 100 miler didn't feel this hard. I was done. Literally and figuratively. RDs Craig and Curt welcomed me in and I GET MY HAT. I'm sure they were more relieved than I was that I finished.

The aftermath of the race isn't pretty. I'm sick. I feel hauntingly similar to how I felt not finishing Waldo last time. There was nausea, vomiting, dizziness and a bad gut ache that lasted all night. I stumbled into the truck and Glen let me barf out the window as we drove back to the hotel and then Glen and Jerry got me back into my hotel room where I was able to shower and fall into bed for a fitful night's sleep. Luckily by the next morning the nausea and vomiting was replaced by crippled legs. This is progress. The gut ache took a few days to resolve.

Although I told myself dozens of times during the race that if I finished it this time, I wouldn't ever have to prove to myself again that I could...maybe I will run it again next year. How crazy is that?

Up next, expect my Hundred in the Hood race report.

Mt. Hood PCT 50

July 25th 2009... Somewhere along the Pacific Crest Trail

I have done this race several times in the past 4 years and this race was my very first Ultra back in 2005. But, the course was different this year due to the new Wilderness act keeping organized events off a short portion of the PCT which prevented us from going all the way up to Timberline Lodge. The new course went 14 miles out and back on the usual section, then did an 11 mile section on the Southern direction of the PCT from Timothy Lake. It was a fairly warm day and I took the early start to help avoid some early heat and to avoid always being at the back of the pack. My goal was to finish under 11 hours. My PR on the previous course is 10:48 so I felt this was doable.

I have worked out a new (genius) contrivance in my running/walking plan to substitute for fixed times of walk breaks. This also eliminates a great deal of plain hiking I typically do on steep uphill sections. Most of these up hills aren't really so steep you can't run them, but they are sufficiently steep and long that running them in their entirety over a 50 mile race (at elevation) is just too hard for me. So here's what I did: when it got steep, I would run for the count of 20 steps on my right foot, then walk 20 steps and alternate 20 run/20 walk all the way up the hill. I found all the uphill sections very doable this way and there was rarely a grade so sleep I couldn't manage it. I could hardly believe how wonderful this felt and how much time it saved me. Why didn't I think to try this before? It worked spectacularly!

My fueling, electrolyte and drinking schedule was dialed in and off I went. When it got hot I put on my ice bandanna and that helped me immensely in the heat. I did fall in the rocks once and got a huge bruise on my right hip from a pointy rock as well as my usual skinned knee, but nothing that affected my running.

I finished the first 28 mile out and back in 6 hours. The second out and back was new territory. There was a lot more climbing than the first section and being after 12 noon it was hotter and with less shade. There was a nice cold water creek I laid down in once and that cooled me off really well. I just kept plugging along with my 20 steps routine and was able to run nicely all the flats and down hills. I believe I kept up a pretty steady even pace all day.

At the last aid station the final mileage to the finish was posted as 4.5 miles (it was 4.1 miles in the pre-race information). I was 10:15 into the race and I figured, with the mostly downhill nature of the last section, I could easily come in under 11 hours! So off I ran. I ran hard and did not let up. I got passed by a couple at one point but later they couldn't sustain that pace and I passed them again. Later we estimated we were going about 8:30 min miles. Of course this is downhill so that helps with the speed, but I was really pushing hard to get in under my time limit. 45 minutes later I knew I was still over a mile from the finish. How could that be? Well, obviously, as we all agreed later, that section of the course was really several miles longer than advertised. In the end I knew I wouldn't get in under 11 hours but I wanted to push it as hard as I could anyway so I did and finished in 11:05.

So....it was a harder course this year and probably 4 miles longer than the 50 miles it was suppose to be (so the price per mile was a real bargain!). I feel like I had an excellent result. I finished ahead of my usual competitors and came in 4th out of 13 in my age group! After the race was over I felt so good that I was able to eat a big Garden Burger. On the way home I stopped for a big ice cream cone, too. Usually I feel unable to eat for several hours. By the next day I had trouble remembering I had just run that 50 (+) miler because my legs felt so good. I recovered in record time! I believe the recent elevation work was helpful, and the run/walk cycle worked very well for me. I am very excited to tackle Waldo next month and kick it's ass!

Photos: http://www.backprint.com/view_user_event.asp?PID=bp%1ExNv&EVENTID=55884&BIB=80&S=230&PWD=

Results: http://www.pctultra.com/index50.htm

Memorial Day Weekend "Running Camp"

Two years ago I participated in the Western States Memorial Day Weekend running camp that covered 70 miles of the Western States trail over 3 day of running. I did this for personal training purposes but also because I planned to pace a friend at the race and I wanted familiarity with the trail. It was a grueling event and the longest back to back runs I had ever done to that point. After the first 30 mile day in the canyons I wasn't sure how I'd manage to run 20 miles down to the river on day two, never mind the 20 mile section from Green Gate to Auburn the next day! But, lo and behold, I actually managed to put one foot in front of the other on day two and then again was able to get and stay moving on day three. It was a great accomplishment.

This year I wanted to do the same thing but decided to save myself the LONG drive down to that part of California and instead headed to Humboldt County where my sister,Karen, lives. We would together build our own running camp on trails through the redwood forests. It was a grand success.

On day number one I did close to 30 miles on day #1 and about 7K climbing. It was a beautiful mountain bike trail in the King Range on which I ran two loops. Karen's friend and coach Bill and her dog ran with me the first time around and Karen ran with me the second.

We had some great views of the ocean from top of the ridges. There was a fair amount of shade and lots of wild flowers. Most of the climbing was gradual enough that it was runnable and the downhill sections were a lot of fun. We ran into a collection of mountain bikers and played leap frog with them along the trail. At one point they stopped to photograph each other going over some jumps in the trail and graciously let us run through. We took the jumps too and got our photos taken as well!

I have a new ultra food I'm fond of now: Turkey and cheese sandwich with avocado. Yum, yum. It was fairly warm (mid 70s by the end of the day) and sunny but most of the trail was shaded by oak and fir trees. We crossed the Bear Creek twice (shin deep) and actually laid down in it on the last crossing of the second trip for cooling purposes. The trail ran along ridges, down to the creek, back up to the ridge then back down to the creek then back up to the ridge. It wasn't usually too steep and most of the uphill was runnable. On the second loop I found my ice bandanna very refreshing. It was a great day!

Day #2 we did in the Redwood State Park on the Lost Man Creek Trail. This is essentially a 10 mile out then back on an old logging road that started at about 200 feet and climbed (relentlessly) up to about 2300 feet, when we turned around and went back.


The return trip was a lot more fun! It was beautiful, that's for sure, but cooler and mostly foggy, just like the pictures.

Karen and Bill both ran with me that day but we split up for some of it. Karen turned back a few miles short and Bill ran ahead to catch up with her and I caught up with them a mile from the end. It was fun, retrospectively, but the climbing for the first half was not so much fun as it entailed lots of walking/hiking. I found that frustrating. We were also on a bit of a time crunch to get back for a memorial service for Karen's friend who died last year, but we made it in plenty of time.

On day #3 Karen and I set out together to run the Skunk Cabbage Trail, Coastal Trail and eventually part of the Ossagon trail for another 10 mile out then back in the redwood state park (can't find a good link). We ended up doing about 5 miles on the beach (4 miles on the outward journey and 1 on the return after we found the paralleling dirt road). The Skunk Cabbage part is like my local Fort to the Sea trail at Fort Clatsop National Park, but with more roots from the Sitka Spruce.




















It ends at the beach then connects to the Coastal trail and Ossagon which, after the beach, is on flat prairie areas next to bluffs near the beach.























It was very pretty and the weather was perfect - started overcast then got sunny but never too warm. We finished the whole thing together except the last few miles and Karen was less than 5 minutes behind me.

I was really proud of her for doing her 15/17.5/20 combo! She's never done back-to-backs that lengthy.

At this point I feel just fine and don't feel tired and my legs don't hurt. It's amazing the amount of endurance I've developed. I felt good every day and never got worn out. The spectacular scenery really helped, I'm sure. And the company, no doubt.