This old Rabbit still can run

As I DNF'ed from the CT attempt and coughed my lungs out laying on the couch back at the end of June/beginning of July, the depression descended, with no goals in sight. Why is that some of us just have to have something scary up on a horizon? Honestly, I was so discouraged and so disappointed, trying to accept this aging thing, and adjust the goals appropriately, that I did NOT want a BIG audacious goal, anymore. Ronda suggested a 50k in UT with her mid-August - I signed up for that - and then put my name on a waitlist for Run Rabbit Run 50 mile in September in my home state. I was aware that this waitlist is known to be moving well historically, but I would still have time to decide if I am ready for this, before it comes to my name (#93 down the list). Also, definitely not a 100 M adventure at that point. I crewed for Annie there, and the weather always sucks, the trails are techy, plus, you know, can I actually do this distance?!? That's how uncertain in myself I was.

Roll the times forward. July 5th I wet for an overnight on Collegiate West loop with a backpack, tackling 37 mile day without a push. That was lovely, to shake off the pressure of an FKT push, and still loving the long days in the mountain.

Then the running commenced, and the strength returned. In fact, I suddenly started hitting my best times on all the regular routes, including Incline, Pikes Peak, and other random trails, long and short. Go figure. I squeaked a trail marathon in Aspen, before going for that 50k in Utah, all in the midst of long training weeks with long training runs, and my mood perked up. Larry and I also had a 2-day trip to RMNP, and a Culebra 14-er for his birthday. Consider this post some catch-up with pretty mountain photos for fun, because - summer in Colorado, man! Best of the heavens on Earth!

It was when I was on my day 2 on the Rainbow trail FKT that Larry, who was checking in my email for the waitlist movement, the news came: I got the offer to accept the RRR 50 entry or not. It was hot, I was dehydrated, and I had to act quick, so I said - yes, press "ok" button. And the $343 entry fee was charged on the spot...

I came home with deep holes on the bottoms of my feet, and pretty damn tired. What will happen to Rabbit? But, I managed a couple of long runs, and a backpacking trip, and felt hopeful. The original plan was to possibly run around 11:15 (the race boasts 8,300 ft of gain and "runs" above 10,000 feet). Then, after Rainbow, I adjusted it to 11:30, just in case, you know. I hate feeling more disappointed with my life than I already am.

On Wednesday before the race I went to do the Incline. It's like Larry jokes: everyone does a 1M climb on the high stairs with 2k ft of gain before the race day, right? Well, I do. Before and after the race, just because it's my fitness test of sorts. I believe I set my latest PR there 4 weeks prior, on the Utah race week, so there's that. What happened this time, though, sent me down, deep and fast...I couldn't move. I mean, I had a tempo run on Monday after the backpacking adventure, and a very heavy leg lifting session, and then a deep tissue massage on Tuesday - either one of those leaves me sore, and the combination of both doubles the DOMS. I get it. I was sore. But, I also had a huge energy suck. Like, I, literally, couldn't lift my legs up those steps, and I couldn't breathe. I wanted to bail out by the first option at 400 steps in (out of 2765), and I should have - would cut my losses off, and kept my sanity. Yet, I kept crawling up - and I, quite literally, had to use my hands to pull myself up, not just in a couple of steeper sections, but over half the way. I didn't care what I looked like, what my time was, who saw me (nobody I knew), who passed me (a number of regulars)...and when I finally, finally, made it to the top, it was my second worst time ever - a few seconds behind the very first one 10 years ago, off the couch, from Austin, a day after Pikes Peak summit. I pretty much walked down Barr trail, as well, and the darkness descended upon: what the fuck am I going to do this weekend? Did I dig myself into a hole of overtraining, going non-stop since the previous December? What is this thing, really? I took the next day off, trying to decide if I am even driving to Steamboat Springs. But, alas, the race fee, as well as the hotel for 2 nights, were paid, and I hate flushing that much money down the toilet. All I could do is to start, right?

Larry and I drove in on Friday morning, I did a short 3 mile hike at the start (which gained shitton of elevation off the bat, but felt a little better than 2 days ago), and we hung out to watch the RRR 100 Hares start their race, plus saw a few old and new friends. (Below are the only 2 shots I took of the surroundings and the Fall - you're going to have to believe me that foliage had started full swing in Steamboat, the Aspen were glowing yellow and orange all around, and the low high alpine grasses turned deep red - but I didn't take a single photo during the race. Those days are over, I now watch my feet with my head down, and put full effort into actual moving, versus trying to take pictures).

We went to a pre-race meeting, and it started the downpour - the sky opened up, the wind grew, and it was dark, wet, and crazy to think aout all the 100 mile runners - as well as my own race tomorrow. It continued to rain all the way until 9 pm, making me even more edgy than I already was. I somberly told Larry, my best adjusted case scenario is to break 12 hrs, first of all because of how I felt this week, and secondly, depending on what happens to trails after the long rain bout.

We woke up to a solid thick fog down at the city level, but could see a few stars and the moon up above it, what meant that as we get up high, it'll be clear at least in the morning. Foggy and chilly was the start. As we drove in, Larry said: "We can sit in the car until you're ready to walk to the line", to which I replied: "Can I go back to the room?" - and I meant it. My man, without a second of a pause, said "Yep". I sighed. It'd be an expensive trip for nothing, and I got out...

I smiled for the photo, and we were off on the clock, at 6 am, into the fog. Then everybody and their grandmother seemed to have passed me - and I sort of jogged that uphill, mind you. Uphill shuffling has become my new strength, now that my downhill is completely destroyed, mostly due to sheer fear of twisting/falling/tripping/anything that might lead me t another surgery (and no time to come back anymore). I mean, I was putting 15 min/mile, and this climb on a dirt road up to a ski lift, 6.4 miles, was consistently gaining 500 feet per mile, every damn mile, without failing. So, I was totally content, switching from power walking to shuffling at will, and the final 2 miles being steeper, still got to the AS at exactly 1:45 on the clock, as I had hoped for the 11:30 pace.

Indeed, I never adjusted the sticky arm band with my predicted splits.  As a side note, I feel really bad to never reach for my phone to take any photos, because the inversion effect, as we made our way on the ski road up, was insanely beautiful! The low clouds hung over the city, and totally clear skies above. We ditched the headlamps by the second mile (along with the jacket for me), and watched the sun rise, the aspen trees get brighter, and the wetness on the sides of the hill get turned into little bit of snowy substance from the night's storms. 

I quickly filled one of my bottles with water, because there was no line to it, unlike the Tailwind (it was a mess at this first AS, as we came as a huge crowd, plus the 100 mile runners began to trickle back through this very same aid station), and began the single track journey, as I fiddled with my own packet of electrolyte powder to be poured into that bottle. The trail was quite technical on this section, and undulating going up and down, as I tried to get into the rhythm, but also watching my steps with intention, and not particulary caring about the time. There were also 2 logs to step over, and with my right hamstring being torn a (very, very) long time ago, now replaced with scar tissue, all shortened, and aged up, I can barely lift my leg to shin-level once I start moving, yet along mid-thigh, so that was painful to roll over. But, I simply kept my head down, taking gels, letting people pass (mostly on those little down portions), and according to Larry's tracking, lost 13 positions between AS#1 and AS#2 (from 73rd to 86th). Whatever, glad I didn't know that! 

Anyway, I didn't feel too bad, nor too good, I was just working on the miles. This is how it always goes between 5-15 miles, I don't have anything to say about it. No flow, no thoughts. Ahead of the race, I knew that this next AS was manned by the old school guard - and boy, was it fun to see them all! Lead by Karl Meltzer and his wife Cheryl, it also had Scott Jurek and Jenny, Roch Horton and Katherine. As I entered and yelled out "Hi!", there was a fun wave of each of them recognizing me and yelling out "Olga", "Olga", "Olga"...like an echo. I bet those around were dumbfounded by that. Oh, what great times behind for all of us, memories, awesome races, the "used to be" club! Well, Karl is still knocking the 100 milers out of the park like they are local 5k's, so he'll never be a "used to be". I guess I'm trying to hang on??? Anyway, I still filled only one bottle, grabbed a quesadilla from Jenny's plate, and ran off, finally feeling somewhat, like, happy? Something shifted in my brain. I got to this AS, by the way, at 3:11, full 11 minutes after, and figured it'll go like that, 5 min per 4 miles. But, at least I am past a half-marathon point, and the next aid stations are much closer together. Now, I thought, I need to click off one more AS, and then - Larry!

Next 5+ miles rolled some more (all above 10,000 ft), and I arrived 4:16 in, so, while still same 11 minutes behind the split, but at least I didn't lose any more time. With that, at just around mile 20, on the pretty nice flattish and not very techy stretch to Dumont lake, I began running, finally! Like, I need that long to feel ok? Or was it because I was about to see my man, and that meant, I need to be composed and all-in. Because, in our family, until it's over, at the finish line, there's no "How are you doing" going on. It's all business. And Larry knows how to handle that!

I ran into 22.3M at 5:02, which was still same time behind the splits - but still no more losses! Yeah, baby, we're back in the game! 

Larry handed me my V8 juice and my pouch of baby food, shoved 2 fresh bottles into the pack, and I was off. Now, this course is an out-n-back, and I already saw Meghan Roche and a couple of girls heading back, and as always, no matter what, my competitor's juices kicked in: lets count where I am. I roughly assumed I may have missed someone in the crowds of an AS (lots of people here!), and began my uphill trek to Rabbit Ears. #4,5...8,9...15, 16 (yikes, out of top 15), #22, 23? I think I might be inside 25, if lucky? But boy, was I strong here. On this stretch, I was passing, slowly but surely, a few runners. Last 0.5M pitch to Rabbit Ears proper was a brutal joke, while Larry and I did this part a few years back, I had no recollection of it. Straight up, you had to touch the rock, and get a card from a volunteer as a prove you got there (although I doubt anyone could cheat with a stream of folks going up and down, but rules are rules, card it is). I turned around, and began run down. I passed a handful more. According to Larry, between checking in at 22.3M and checking out at 27.7M, I moved up 20 spots. 

We repeated the process: baby food, V8, new 2 bottles, and a bag of 12 gels for my way back. I ran into an AS proper to give them my card, and dashed out, all under 90 sec, my longest stop this race.

And I was absolutely able to run! I mean, granted, it was a granny speed, but then again, I am a couple of weeks shy of 56, so I guess granny it is. But, despite 6 (!) stops to pee (total in a race), I kept clicking occasional runner I would pass. By the way, that return to Dumont AS was exactly on my prediction splits, 8:20, so I 11:30 finish was back in the view. Short stretch to the next aid, then another 5 miles to the Old Boys Club - I did my "Hi, I am back!", and got my "Olga!" wave of yelling. Refilled 1 bottle, grabbed from Karl's hot skillet freshly made something ("Oh, perogies" - "No, pizza pockets" - "Whatever!"), and was out if a flash. Hung with the same couple fo guys we ran together for the last couple of sections, told them "Those are my people from 25 years back!" - and left them in a dust. I felt great to keep pushing. I mean, I didn't feel "GREAT", but great in regards to be able t put my head down, and work hard. We passed a lot of 100M runners on this stretch, coming back from their own journey, and it was difficult to say if I was passing any 50 milers, but I tried to say encouraging wrds to every one of them. I made this 7.4M rolling (mostly up) single track 15 min faster than predicted by 11:30 splits - in fact, it was "only" 10 min slower than Meghan Roche (ha), and faster than half the women in front of me. Go figure. Apparently, two things stand: I'm better shuffling uphills these days, and still better later in the race. I hit the Werner AS at the top of the ski lift at 10:02, and yikes, with the 6.4 miles of dirt road down, I was in for 11:15 finish. Lets! 

Gah, this 500 ft of loss per mile was actually not that pleasant! In a mile it felt like uncontrollable fall down, gravity overcoming, and I tried with all my might to churn my legs under me just so I don't fall! Somehow I managed to stop with 4 miles to go, because I just HAD to "go" (#2), ducked to the side bushes, and emerged in less than a minute, continuing that "fall down". It became scary, I was afraid my legs won't catch up, and I smack full body down. While people I was passing, runners, pacers, spectators hiking up, were all cheering and yelling I was flying, I was deathly concerned I am going to die, wished I could slow down, and even stop - and I, quite literally, couldn't. Finally, with a mile to the finish, there was a small uphill for 0.2 mile, and it allowed me to walk (kind of like a heavy semi trucks have a rundown on highways), but then - it was back to the free fall. Looking at the watch, I could not comprehend that I wam actually breaking 11 hrs, and I don't even need to run those 8 min miles, but again, I couldn't slow down. My body bent forward (I guess this is instead of my side lean?), I was begging for it to end - and eventually saw Larry with his phone taking photos.

I straightened up for the camera, tried to smile, but my face had pain written all over it. Watch Mountain Outpost Live Feed at 1:24 time into it (when the top time shows 27:56) - this is when I am coming to view. I make an effort to stop before the stream crossing, completely bent, try to get myself over the rock, but my legs give out under me - there was a lot of pounding out there on hard surface! - and I slip, grab the rocks, walk into the water, still bent. I don't know if there was a photographer at the finish (Larry didn't catch me crossing the line), but I did make somewhat of a "run towards the line" attempt, then - thank goodness the RD Fred is an old school and hugs every finisher! - fell into his arms. Not because the hug was so good (well, it was) - but because I couldn't stand on my own two feet. My quads blown, rain now, finally, getting stronger, I see Larry, and grab him, transferring my limp body into his hug, now. He finds a chair, and I slowly awkwardly lower myself into it. But, it's wet - the rain held off, we had some hail around mile 40, then it started on my descend of the last stretch, but it really picked up in the last mile - and I am, of course, getting cold.

Larry moves me under the "cook tent", gets some hot food, as I am trying to feel my legs. There are none, they hurt, and have no strength. It's pouring (those poor folks still on the course!), and I have no idea how I'll make it to the parked car, freezing, yet not able to eat or walk.

But, of course, somehow, hanging on Larry's arm side, while he also had to carry my pack and a huge umbrella, we make the needed steps to the parking lot - a whole 0.3 mile! - and I get into the car, aching and moaning. Getting old sucks ass! OK, maybe it's always been like that, but still. I sit in a bathtub for a while, and eventually feel good enough to get out, dress up, and make our way to some food joint. I am starving, but have no energy to eat it all right away. However, it's over, the race - and I made it! 

That last stretch was 54:30 on the clock, nuts! Also faster than half of the ladies in front of me (although "some" did it in 35 min, WTF?!?). My official finishing time was 10:56. To say I blew my mind off the grid with this performance is a gross understatement. I have no idea - HOW?!? How in the world? Not only, because of the way I felt that week, but in general? And just to recap my summer, after 125 miles on CT with bronchitis at the end of June, beginning with first weekend of July, I had no break: 37 miles with a backpack on Collegiate West, 2 long runs (anything over 20 for clarification), 2 long runs, 2 long runs and Culebra, 1 long run and Aspen trail marathon race, 2 long runs (one was 26 - Pikes), 50k race in UT, 110 miles on Rainbow trail with 20k ft gain, 2 long runs, 42M backpacking trip - straight into this. Why am I doing it to myself? Because - summer in the mountains, people. You blink, it's over.

And just like that, my race was over, as well. In the end, I placed 45th OA out o 205 runners who started (and 177 who finished). I was 14th (!!!) Female overall out of 79 at the beginning (66 finished), and, you guessed it, first over 50 - Senior (ha, in this race, the category goes: open, master, senior - I am THAT old). I broke 11 hrs in a 50M race with 8,300 ft of gain, happening at 10,000 ft altitude. Last time I got under 11 was, like, 10 years ago? Blew my wildest expectations. This year's field was nuts, as last year 11 hrs would have gotten you inside top-10. Only two women in Masters category (40+) were in front of me. I'm still in disbelief - and still sore and weak and tired. But, I am also toying with the fact that I am an endurance runner - not really a Rabbit, but more of a Turtle, in it for the long haul, so there's an idea rolling in my head. I am not making any concrete plans, but I am not denying that my season may still have one goal. We shall see...