Oh, crap...

I just got in to MMT100...was #1 on wait list as of this morning, after yesterday's last day when they refunded entry fees to those who cancelled, and thought that was it, no chance...and somebody dropped. I started as #62 on the wait list. You've gotta believe and be patient?

Shit, shit, shit...what do I do now?

For one, I will give Larry a run for his money and have him work, as he will have to move his tush to stay ahead. Will provide some motivation - nothing like a little family-friendly competition, right? Nah, just kidding...but it will provide me with motivation to try and catch him!

And - I am going to Portland this weekend! I've got business to deal with, but I will run the Gorge both mornings, and this couldn't have been more timely as last training runs!

I am psyched and scared, because I was calmly focusing on trying to wrap my mind around breaking 24 at SD100. Now things changed. So did goals. I will have to think about them:)

It feels so good to be back...

It feels so freakin’ good to be back…back to traveling to races, back to lovely California, back to see so many friends I haven’t seen in a long time, back seriously lining up the starting line, back to pushing it – and back to getting a result in return…It was an absolutely awesome weekend.
Friday was crazy sweet. I got picked up by my wonderful friend Georgie and met with a new RD of freshly returning Rio del Lago 100M Molly (yes, this race is BACK too!). We had a hoot going for a bib/packet pick up and socializing, first at the start location, then later at a Thai place – and something I had been missing felt good to have back as well – chatting up a storm about 100 mile adventures, puking, hallucinating, sleeping on the side of a trail in the wee hours, getting dirty, and most of all – loving it all. Stories were flying, and we laughed our butts off.




Next morning we got ready after a full 7 hrs of sleep, and bumped into more friends at the start line. The flashlights weren’t necessary for this SoCA 6 am start, nor my fear of being cold materialized. I had my predicted splits taped to my bottle along with race elevation profile, when Nick Lewis told me the course is different. Now, I knew that – but he said it was harder. That news made me nervous. What about my goal? And how do I mentally figure out what’s next?


This proved to be my only challenge for the day. This, and the wackiest fastest time I put for the first 8.3M to the first AS, which I made in 1:14 – and 2/3 of it was uphill! It threw me off big time – is the mileage wrong? (it wasn’t) did my watch stop? (nope) did I just screw up my day? (biggest fear) and who is this person anyway, because I don’t keep this pace on a flat road! So, next section I was worried and trying to calm down. Next section was also where I realized I can’t rely on my splits or the profile because nothing matched – what was supposed to go up went down, and what I planned to tear down – went up. The only numbers stayed correct were the miles for the aid stations.

So I went with them. I’d predict 3 scenarios: if those next however many miles will be up (longest time), down (shortest) or rolling, and just run, controlled, with popping gels every 20 minutes, scheduling my water intake (one bottle to carry), 2 S! cap per hour, and enjoying the beautiful rolling mountains, on the ridges of which the narrow single-track PCT lead us on and on…
I never felt bad. I had a sugar-low usual wall at 20 miles, which at first spook me (did I die? Was it a 50M race 2 weeks before? Is it my opening fast split?), but then I told myself that I always have a big bonk between 20 and 25 miles, and I recovered – just as I knew I would. I felt strong. I felt beautiful. I loved it.
Somewhere around here the lead men began to return – Jeez, it’s crazy – and then Michelle Barton, the running nymph with long red flying hair, glided by with a smile. I was yet to get to a turn-around at 29.5M.
To get there we were to bomb about 2.5M of a downhill on a fire road, and bomb I did. Saw Meredith and Kelly coming back together, flew into AS with Scottie Mills (RD for SD100 and long time friend) asking – where is your other bottle? Yeah, I know. It’s hot, in fact, very hot. Next section is the longest, and 2.5M of it is all uphill on this very same open fire road. I was lazy. I didn’t bring second bottle for the sake of one section – and he gave me his. Long live my friend Scott! He must have saved my day. I don’t think I would have died, but I could have bonked badly and lost some time to recovery. I didn’t need that. I was to have an awesome day…
I hike up, even shuffling some small inclines, right behind a girl who keeps turning around and calling me by name to encourage to come together. I settle 30 feet behind, and can’t close the gap. I feel I am supposed to know her, but it doesn’t click. Nevertheless, this girl can power-walk, and I should know, because my walk is BACK as well! At the turn from dirt road onto PCT I throw that extra bottle (which is empty now) to Georgie and Molly (who volunteer there for the directions). The girl pulls away…


I settle in. It’s mile 33-34 or so, and I feel pretty good, smiling to the thought: only 3.5 hrs to go. Make myself laugh. We, ultrarunners, are a crazy bunch indeed. Time flies. I make it to the AS and get ice in my bottle, as the Girl runs in – where were you? She pulled to the side for a pit-stop as I passed. This was to be our pattern for the next 8 miles – I pee, she goes by, she stops – I run ahead. We are never more than 20 yards apart, but not together. I get overwhelmed with feeling of gratitude, as we smile to each other and yell out encouragements. I am so thankful she is around me. Not that she planned it. But she makes me give it my honest effort. I work. I work not to “beat” her, and not to “not lose her”. I work because it is an honest thing to do. And because somehow she believes I can.
I still don’t remember whether next section should be up or down, but it is a 3.5M downhill on a single track, indeed, and I let it rip. I fly. I almost get chocked on tears – I haven’t lost it one bit. I really, truly fly, barely touching the ground, almost afraid to fly off the ridge, yelling at people to step away – and I loose her, my Girl…I really want her to be around, but boy, did it feel good, just like old times.
Sue Jonston just before next AS, and Walter Edwards, a friend from Seattle I haven’t seen in years, si there as well. I gulp a cup of coke, and now I know – we have 3.5M uphill. I kind of like this idea, it’s time for a hike, a good hard hike – as I announce that I don’t like running all this much anyway.
And I hike. It’s hot. The heat radiates from the ground, you can feel it surround you, around, fire-like, inside the fire pit, dry, high-temperature heat. The sweat pours down, the one that was evaporating during the running portions, and my armpits burning from chafing before as I try to flop the arms far aside. I hike as hard as I can, and make myself run small flattish sections. Running is something that’s not getting a good welcome from my body, but I make it nevertheless. I pass some more folks, and I bargain – the final time is still not a given, I still have to work for my goal. So I work. I just need to get to this last AS, and it’s 3.9M, all downhill…
Exhausted, I motion to a lady at the AS my bottle and whisper “smiling takes too much energy”. She waves arms as if trying to say something. I have 50 minutes to make it down and break 9:30, so I don’t focus on her, but as I turn around to go – the meaning of her gestures hits me: there is a hill in front of me.
Everything sinks, and my heart drops. I got nothing, suddenly, and swear quietly. How come? Wasn’t it all downhill here? How long is this thing? I walk, I shuffle occasionally, and it takes me a full 12 minutes before I can see the road go down. And even then it is not consistently down, and I want to stop, crawl to the side and close my eyes.
But I don’t. I am calculating feverishly and trying to remember any landmark, as absolutely out of nowhere, I see a drop to the parking lot – my watch doesn’t make any sense – and I cross the finish line in 9:14.
Holly cow, was it hard, this last section! Mentally, it knocked me out of my feet, almost killed me. That was all I could think about at the finish, as I bowled my eyes for a few moments. Yeah, I know, I am a cry baby…

I am thrilled, absolutely thrilled and happy with how it all went. I have no regrets, not a single one. I wouldn’t have changed anything at all in this race. I had ran one of my most perfect performances, on a perfect single track, at a 50M race with some 9,000 feet of gain, on a hot day, 2 weeks after another pretty good 50 miler, with a great plan that I followed, I never felt that I want to give up working on my goal, and I am so proud of everything. Even my last section – it’s like I’ve calculated my race for 46 miles, not 50, but still, I made those last 4 count. I feel good about my run – my time – my fitness – my ability – my everything. And I love how it feels…
And the Girl – Tracy Bahr. The girl I ran with many moons ago. The girl who helped me so much this day and whom I hugged for the longest time at the finish – and then talked to for even longer about life.

…As well as with Walter. And Memphis Billy (man, what a surprise it was to see you there!), Sue, Chris, Catra and Andy, Kelly and Mer, Keira the RD, John Medinger and his lovely wife Lisa, Earl “The Rocket”, Georgie and Molly, and so many others. And this is what it’s all about to me.

I am excited about a year to come. I am excited next year to try and focus on 50 milers. I am excited about upcoming San Diego 100 – my next goal. Goals…they are not that bad after all! :))

New lessons at Hells Hills.

When had I become a runner? I mean, if you come here often, you had heard numerous times how I claim to NOT be a runner. I power-hike ups and float downs, and pick the courses to suit my strengths. I usually say I don't like running all that much - what always raises a few brows. OK, maybe I am overestimating it, but you know what I mean. Once at a race, I hate flats, inclines, slow descends and short rolls with all my might...

Hells Hills is a local race, just an hour east of Austin. This was to be my last "training race". While Rasmus pointed to me that I sandbag every race as a training run, I don't. But local ones for sure are. Less pressure when no travel or big buck thrown in involved. Just a good long tempo run:) I knew nothing about the place it is held at besides that I should expect trails similar to Bastrop park - soft pine needle covered dirt, not much rock, lots of twists, rollers to flat and some roots. Both Larry and Meredith pointed it is a "runner's course", what first of all, didn't get me excited at all, and secondly kept me wondering why in the world the times are so slow. Not to mention, apparently, Ultrarunning magazine sited it as 4/4 on their scale of difficulty. WTH? What should I shoot for? Now, if you know me, I always put a time goal, training run or race no matter. I like to know what to expect, and I am pretty realistic and end up very close to what I run. At first as Tracy and I emailed after looking at the photos, we thought "hmm, 9hrs?". But nothing made sense at this race, and I moved the goal to 9:30 - after running Nueces in sub-10 (otherwise I would have gone for 10 hrs flat). Larry said it's the heat that makes finishing times so long. Boy, was he right...

Besides all the local gang, I had 2 friends coming over: Tracy and Rasmus. We've known each other for what, over 3 years? Through the blogging world:) Ain't it wonderful? I am still against Facebooking, where, it seems, everyone moved on - you might meet that many more people, but you rarely know what's inside them, in their heart. And that's what matters to me. Reading Rasmus' musings as he was going through difficult periods in his life, then happy times, then having Tracy joining the blogosphere...so much more "up close and personal" then stating you had a nice run or bad day at work. Of course, not everyone is "personal" in their blog either, but this is how you choose who to follow:) After all, this is how I "met" Larry as well...

So, back to this couple, who now live in Denmark. They came to visit their family in Wisconsin, and signed up for Hells Hills (as they do every visit), in part to meet too. That was sweet. These two, may I add, are fast - and highly competitive. Rasmus came to put a hammer down on 50k runners and win, and Tracey had Juliet Morgan and yours truly in mind. We all expected Liza Howard to win this thing, but Liza decided to spend time with the family, and opened up a competition.

Now, unlike Tracy, I race the clock, not the people. Although I can predict very much correct the finishing order in about any race 50M and over anywhere around the country (think Karl Meltzer and his prediction charts). My knowledge put Juliet, Tracy and myself in this order, I chilled and forgot about it. This is where dark start helps - who knows where anybody is?

Speaking of dark. As we talked on Friday, I mentioned to the guys not to forget the lights - "what lights?". OMG, they didn't even think about it! 5 am start, people!!! Tracey got herself a headlamp - and Rasmus still showed up at the start hoping his 6 am 50k would be light enough. I had to set him up with Joe's extra hand-held, or it would have been very interesting...

As I drove to the race location at 4 am, the fog was so thick, you could cut it with the knife. The highway speed got down to 20 mph, and I couldn't see beyond 10 feet in front of the car. It could only mean one thing - we are in for a hot day, a very hot and muggy day. First heat wave of the season.

And we were off. I guess this is where the first paragraph comes to play - I ran. I ran, from the start, and I loved it! And it felt easy! Running! Not downhill! And I was breathing like a normal person! And my legs were moving! It felt fun, and it felt different. I had no recollection of how it supposed to be, effortlessly, wonderful. I had my headphones plugged in, and with trails twisting every 20 yards, you can see a train of flashlights ahead and behind for a long time. It was awesome!

Soon I had to pull to the side-bush, and, funny thing, I gave Tracy an advice to not eat spicy food, only to do so myself - and paid the price. That first stop was the beginning of a dreading slew of squattings every 20 minutes for the rest of the race (and the rest of the day, well into the next day). After 5th stop I stopped counting and stopped being annoyed. It is ultrarunning, you take a day as it is, with all it brings to you. Not the first time, likely, not the last one either.

The course was 3x16.7M loops, 2 manned AS's and 2 water stops. I don't read into details, but it was something like 2.5M, 4M, 2M and 3M for water - and I had my gels plan. I ran with one water bottle and 10 gels per loop.

All was going well, and I was totally shocked to come to start/finish area after loop 1 at 2:55. Rasmus passed me about 0.5M from the end of the loop, as I thought he would, and as I re-supplied my gels and was leaving, Tracy called me out. I was stunned to hear/see her so much that it didn't even register it was her. She was supposed to be a good 10 minutes ahead! She would have, but she went off course for some 10-plus minutes. Oh, trail running...as much as I preach that nobody gets lost on Joe's marking, I, myself, shamefully admit that I went off on the first loop! Mine wasn't that long, may be 3 minutes, thanks to a couple of guys yelling to me from behind (and with my new-found running and music in my ears, it took me awhile to realize, stop, stare, go yet to a different place, then come back and find that I STEPPED OVER the flagging, idiot).

Anyhow, second loop went like a clock, same running, same pooping, same happy face - with heat and himidity rising and warning for what lay ahead. I finished 2nd loop in 3:05, packed my gels, Rasmus, who, of course, did win the 50k, snapped a bunch of photos, and left for the last loop. And - I forgot my second bottle!!! I did plan to take it for the last loop, I am not a complete dummy, I knew it was to be 85F with some 80% humidity, and I was already struggling on the second loop short on water - and I had that bottle even filled up in my drop bag! And I didn't take it...I'll blame Rasmus who was being a paparazzi in my face with distruction:) That was a very costly mistake.

I felt the furnace rising as soon as I left, I set down to get some rocks out of my shoes, and cramped severely - I haven't cramped at races in many many years, and I was actually taking salt this day. I got up, and the energy just zapped out of me. In a matter of seconds. It was weird, ridiculous and unexpected to have this effect so sudden. You'd think you'd be slowly fading. It was like - bam, and I am a zombie. Hardly moving. Where did all that running go? I can't run. I mean, my legs feel really good, relatively speaking, of course, they did just run 33 miles, but good - yet my body was having none of it, just sapping. I was bargaining. I was saying - common, body, if you run this small descend and shuffle this flat, I promise you'll walk this hill, however tiny it is. And shuffle it was. And the walk was ridiculous - another news, apparently, once you learn to run, you lose your famous power-walk. Why wouldn't I if I wasn't practicing it anymore? So, I moved, one step at a time, leap-frogging with a guy from Seattle Chris, who, too, struggled, getting dehydrated and close to be delirious. I started bending over each and every swampy creek (which were many of, dirty, shallow, small) and washing my face in those, and honestly, I was so close to drink from them, I had to snap out of it each time, reminding it ain't Oregon nor Colorado. The bottle was empty, the throat was dry, I was heaving and waiting for first AS with Naresh. Of course dude said I look awesome - and got scolded by me for that lie. I am not a newbie to be soothed! I know exactly how I look! He dumped some water on my head, and it felt good, but next was the longest section with no aid, 5 miles, and my bottle lasted for about 25 minutes of it. I lost motivation to run a certain time, or 10 hrs, to place anywhere, I just wanted to somehow get done. I do believe everyone of us had same thoughts, so I am not trying to ask for any pity. I know this is what we all feel at mile 40 in a 50 miler, no matter the condition:) This is (actually, a few miles before) where the girl went flying by me, and besides being spooked and surprised, I had no other feelings. Apparently, it was Juliet, who is not a technical runner, and she took her sweet time to be slow and fall a few times on the first 2 loops, until powering at neck-breaking speed last loop.

Anyhow, I reached that last AS, downed 5 cups of water, told the girls I was dreaming about them yet happy to not ever see them again, and went "home". I finished the bottle in 2 miles, by the time the unmanned water stop rolled, and finally felt revived. Got more water - and finally started running. Turned out, I could move, and turned out, 9:30 was not a lost case. So I ran...

And that's the end of my story. I crossed the finish line in 9:29:XX, and as it usually is, with my watch some minutes ahead, I never know what my time would be till I see the clock. Makes it that much more entertaining. I fell in Joe's arms and said everything I think about him - what he always loves to hear. But the truth is, I loved the course, absolutely did. The trails were the closest to PNW trails with their soft dirt and pine needles, the pine trees, not nearly as big as we have in OR, still better than shrubs, and the wild flowers in those 2 meadows we crossed were magnificently breathtaking, just like wild flowers in San Juan mountains during Hardrock race. It was the prettiest place in Central Texas I had ever seen.

Juliet finished some 10 minutes ahead of me, and Tracy - some 10 minutes behind, each of the girls displaying bloody knees with war scars. I fell only once, and on a soft part, so besides a soft dirt bump I had nothing, what just proves that to be better at technical trails you got to train on it. I know I am getting very accustomed to them. I am extremely proud of Tracy, this girl is super-tough, and has great future – and present as well. We had nice chat afterwards, Larry and the boys came to see me finish - and I am so grateful I got to share my awesome day with Larry, who, being injured for over a month now, is really struggling with running banned, but still finds it in himself to be happy for me. Life is about compromises a lot. I wore my new "out of the box" La Sportiva shoes - Crosslites. They are light as feather, and super-flexible, and treated my well, with only 7M training run on them. I risked, and they didn't disappoint. Who needs "foot-gloves" (a.k.a. Vibram) when Crosslites are so awesome? Drymax socks held my feet the happiest campers - in 2 years I had not a single blister or a hot spot and any uncomfort in my feet. I wore Moeben hamp sleeves the whole time to keep my arms from getting slimy wet in the heat and humidity of TX and it worked great. The new "goat skin" (a.k.a. Wasatch Mountain Goat Team shirt from Green Layer) was super-light and moister-wicked. But my bra chafed me in every place to the bloody stains through the shirt, and please, Drymax, lets do something about it! This is the last piece of my gear that desperately needs a change!!!

On the a final note - this is a photo of 3 top ladies. As you can see, I am quite a "bodylicious" one (as in: have some more extra weight). I bet it is more aerodynamically difficult to carry it through the race:) But as much as running is important to me, it is not my only life, and I am pretty happy with where I am the way I am.

I'll add a few more photos once I get those.

Next up - Leona Divide 50M. My first 50M goal race since American River in 2006. I got such a lazy bum with doing all 50's as training for 100's, I am somewhat scared to set it as an official goal race, but I am getting out of the comfort zone and announcing it right here. The time goal? My original was sub-10, but after talking to Juliet who ran it before she claims I should shoot for 9:30. Ronda and Stacey finsihed in sub-9. 9:30 sounds a bit daunting, but it just means I have to work hard - and hope to come close. See ya in a couple of weeks!