The ultra that would never ends - by Mike Burke.
As the title implies Wasatch would just not go away for me and Olga. At least Olga had trained. All I had done was sign up and whine about my knee. I am here to tell ya that was a bad start. At one time we were pretty good runners but Wasatch was not to be our greatest hour. It wasn't until the Friday before race day that we decided to pace each other. It turned out to be the only smart thing we did to get us to the finish line. Olga's shot at the Grand Slam was already in the toilet at Leadville three weeks before. Altitude induced breathing problems proved to be too much for our little Russian Wild Flower.
Race day started off cool and misty, just perfect for a NW runner. It never really got warm until late the next day. The climbs were just moderate with really nice trail. Even the famous Chin scrapper was no big climb. There are lots of lightly slopping meadows to traverse with Aid Stations every 5 to 7 miles. Don't me wrong Wasatch is one endless hill after the other with some really rocky sections. As Curt Ringstad reminded me, it's the hardest 50 miler you will even do and still have 50 miles to go.
Our real problems began after the 20 mile mark when Olga's breathing problems came into play. From then on all the uphill were very slow. I was OK with this development as I was there for a finish with the least amount of damage. We made it into Lamb's Canyon (mile 53) in 14 hours, way too fast. I couldn't get my feet comfortable. The blisters were popping up like voles in a NW wheat field. We had both stashed some nite running clothing here but not enough. The long climb out to Big Water (63 miles) was probably one of the coldest I will ever do. When we finally made it and I was handed my drop bag it had frost on it, bring on the soup and cocoa. There were nice fires at all the Aid Stations after that. We were both looking forward to the Brighten Aid Station. Heated building with real toilets and someplace to lay down, a very dangerous place to aspiring finishers. When we hit the paved road, 2 ½ miles to Brighten, Olga started to get hypothermic. Too little food and too many miles had taken their toll. Brighten shined like a starry beacon below us so on we went. Maybe a quick 15 minute nap would get us back on the trail. It was a very long couple of miles and I was getting worried. It took us 40 minutes to get back out of brighten but to Olga's credit we left with renewed energy on up the toughest climb on the course at mile 75.
This was the only place on the course where we had trouble following the course marking. It was nite time what did I expect. We never actually lost the trail so it was OK. Shortly after coming across Catherine Pass the sun came up and so did our spirits.
The further we went the more we questioned our sanity. The quote of the Day was "We have to finish so we never have to come back again."
After that the trails and Aid Stations just started to run together. Between the last two Aid Stations there was an endless section thru aspen groves which would have been beautiful under any other conditions but not with these feet. From the last Aid Station on we slowed and the crowd speed up. We must have been passed by 50 runners in those last 5 miles. I developed the mother of all heel blisters and had to crush the back of my shoe down and wear it like a sandal for 4 miles. As one guy observed "Hey dude, you got a flat."
Olga observed that the finish was slightly lessened by the almost fact that we were finished 20 miles back but we did finish together in 34:04. We walked in backwards and of course I lost my shoe before the line. The question was raised by one offensive James Varner, do you get an official finish if you cross without both shoes.
In summary, I would only do this Ultra with lots of training and well stocked drop bags. The Aid Stations are well manned and stocked. There were pancakes, cheese sandwiches, soups, French toast, potatoes and plenty more but it is very tough and doesn't let up until the end. Whatever you do don't do like Olga and I did. Remember "Pain is inevitable but Suffering is optional"
Mike Burke
My view on how things went.
Perfect name, I couldn't have come up with myself:)
Just an addition to a great description of suffering:
-14 hrs to Lambs was perfectly on plan, but not on this particular day. Should have slowed down when realized we have problems and not fit for sub-30 run. It did take a toll later.
-We started to get hypothermic on the way to Big Water, and personally I never recovered, just got worse due to stopped eating (duh, very smart). If Mike hasn't dragged me to the Morgue, I would have frozen on the side trail as I really wanted to lay down and sleep. Or at least in that warm covered restroom at the trailhead:)
-Second day was hot and long, and never done anything so long in my life before, I lost all the excitement of doing a trail ultra. So it really dragged. Not that much because of being tired, but mostly because I didn't care anymore. You want to finish, but you don't want to move any faster - that how it went for the last 15 miles for me. Lesson - either enter events trained enough to finish in less than 34 hrs, or learn to enjoy all of those hours. Aha, I'll take the first option!
-Aid stations were wonderful, couldn't better them. But to do a long event, I'd prefer to have a crew for the future. It just takes forever to get drop back, get the stuff out, explain to wonderful people what in the world I want when I myself have no idea about...No pacer is OK, no crew is not.
-Thank you, Mike, for committing to see us through to the finish. I think, I'll take a couple of years at least to rethink if I dare to come back.
All this said, I was asked yesterday on a run of what my lesson learned were from my unsuccessful attempt at Grand Slam. Now that it's over, that I've told the story of my failure to many and made peace with it, here what I came up with - take it with lots of caution, as I am very new, doing ultras for 2.5 years and running in general for a bit over 4, so I am a toddler at best.
1.You have to treat every 100 as an individual 100 and not as a part of a Slam. I went into it thinking I could ride a wave of WS fitness into all 4 of them. Physically, you may be capable doing it. But every one of them has its own beast. I wasn't ready for humidity at VT, altitude at LT and altitude, cold and relentless climbs at WF, and I paid every time. My legs were never shuttered, so I was in shape. But I didn't take elements into account.
2. You have to really be smart in-between the 100s, what NOT to do is only a part of it (and I did this part as wrong as it gets, being oblivious to reasoning and having way too much fun), you also need to know what you actually DO have to do, like tempo/intervals/hills? Long runs or not? Hikes or flats? Fast or slow?Just because Krissy and Scott are blessed with speed, doesn't mean we can't learn from them, just need to adapt. I would talk not to just other regular slammer (bless their hearts), but those who did well. You want to feel like you're alive, not sloshing through.
3. It surely helps to have a good crew. Knowledge of 100 and you personally important.
4. Emotional stability - not something you can count for at any given point.
OK, just my take-home message. I wasn't ready for it, and I won't be next year. Every person decides for him/her self. I need more work put into this, more knowledge, more suffering vs good runs etc. And I need to feel I do it because I love it, not for delusional target. If I struggle too much, I stop enjoying it, and I found out for me it shuts down body response.
Olga
A Mountain Soul
If you're lucky enough to be in the mountains, you are lucky enough.
When something bad happens, you have three choices: let it define you, let it destroy you, or let it strengthen you.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
LT replies
No more slam.
Probably ever (?)
In one word - altitude.
More detailed .
The story of how I had become statistic at Leadville 100 50% DNF rate and another "wanna-be" slammer.
Let me begin by stating that despite many predictions (or worries) before hand I didn't want to quit (or drop) in a race ever. I knew it would be very hard. I knew that the biggest problem I will encounter will be altitude. I knew I will slow down tremendously and had no obnoxious expectations of time finish - all I planned was to keep ahead of cut offs. Due to family and job obligations I wasn't able to fly there ahead of time and acclimate (I am just happy to be able to go for races at all). On top of it my family had run into some turmoil (our older son was held back in Russia after his vacation there instead of coming home last week due to favorite bureaucracy) and my head was filled with this instead of preparation. But I went to Leadville with a clear job to be done - come to the finish line. Honest;y, I wasn't excited much about this run even before problem arose - just not my kind of terrain anyway. But it was a mission. I wasn't going to quit. And I can say from the bottom of my heart that I didn't.
My husband Oleg and I flew to Denver Thursday night and by 10 pm were at Leadville. Next day after meeting some folks (Andy, thanks for your help) and checking in we went to scoot around the course for Oleg's crewing prep. Again, (sorry, Gail), not my kind of course. But nothing to be killed by. 3 big climbs done twice, lots of roads/nasty dirt roads with big rocks and some trails. I tried to "run) for 100 feet and went out of breath. As expected. Fine.
Race morning. Start at 4 am. Good weather. Stomach problems - not a biggest concern, but very annoying. Still, just swear. Surprisingly, I ran first 2.5 miles without any problem. Reached Boat ramp fine, saw Oleg and Sid (Gail's husband), then on to a Mayqueen. Didn't care about time, guess just over 2.5 hrs. First climb to Sugarloaf - dirt road to 11200 feet, on dirt road, but very gentle grade. Still - walk hard, not problems (besides stomach and stepping aside, but it's not something to cry out loud about). Fish Hatchery ( 23.5M) - 1 hr ahead of cut off. Perfect. Road to tree line. Pretty flat, but not inspiring to run. Stomach bounces, breathing difficult, walk hard, feel fine. Next aid at 30.5M, Halfmoon. Finally, stomach subsides (I knew it and it was a relief), and a second climb in two pitches toward Twin Lakes. Here is more steep, had to stop a few times to catch a breath, still OK otherwise. Ran out of water 1 hr before aid station, bonked, but came to Twin lake 1.5 hrs ahead of cut off. Very happy, just want to keep an hour cushion and think that once I am over the Pass twice will pick it up. Tony and Annie came down here to see me from Pike's Peak marathon - it was fun to see them. Change shoes and clothes, restock and determined go onto the Monster - Hope Pass at 12600 feet. After about 1.5M winding flat wet meadow we hit the climb. It is nasty steep. I begin to stop every so often, still mentally strong. By half point (and after I met Matt Carpenter going down) it started. The breathing began getting shorter, the stops more often. I do what I can, lots of people passing, but I don't get discouraged and just do what I can. 10 steps, stop, catch a breath, go. I thought nothing serious of it, just too much tar in lungs makes it worse than for others. As I got to Hopeless (12000 feet AS), I ask for oxygen, but it's not delivered yet. OK, lets get it over with. Climb last pitch. Can't breath. Think, everyone is in it the same. Start getting down on the other side. Despite not climbing anymore, breathing is still erratic, but at least I am moving faster. Come down to the trail head, see Oleg and can't talk - inhalations are short and not refreshing and the glands are swollen. Go for turn-around at Winfield for another 2.5 miles, but walk fast. See Gail, she says - don't drop. I am not planning to. I want to get over Pass second time. Come to 50M - oh, boy, I lost 45 min on my cushion! That;s how slowly I was up. Oh, well. Restock, go back. Pick up Oleg. He looks at me, sees something I don't and asks if I am sure I want to go on. I am. I said - 2 hrs of suffering, and it will be over. Everybody passes me. Everybody. All the people who made the cut offs at 50, passes me. It gets worse and worse. I don't go 10 steps anymore, I go 5, and don't just stop, I sit, lay, cough, can't catch a single breath, gurgle somewhere in my chest. But I am determined to get to the top. 2 hrs. Only 2 hrs. Hopeless on the other side - I get oxygen for 2 minutes. Did it help? Who knows. But the guy says I have 1 hr 35 min to get down. What means I lost another 40 min on cut off and pushing it. I get up and charge down. Oleg gets headlamps out. We pass at least 10 people on the way down. I try hard. I just pray if I get there with 20-30 min to spare (it seemed I was running pretty fast to gain time) and will be lower at elevation I'll resurrect. Twin lakes we made with 10 min under. Too little. Way to little time. Who cares, I am not giving up, no more Hope Pass, night is here, I'll make it. We change, and get out right on cut off at 9:45 pm. We have 3 hrs to make 10 miles in two pitches up and one down. Neither one of us is very optimistic (it took me 2 hrs 25 min on the way in), but we go on. They have to pull me out, I say. Dirt road climbs, and as soon as I step on, I bend over without breath. It's lower elevation now, but the damage is done. I can only go a few steps weezing before I half to either hug a tree or sit on a rock. No air in my lungs. But I am making it forward motion. For 50 min. 2 miles. Then Oleg, who had seen enough HAPE on the mountains, gets scared. It is in the middle of nowhere, and I am obviously developing pulmonary edema. I still want to make it to the next aid station and have them pull me out. It is no question I can't go 8 miles in 2 hrs at a rate like that, even flat and slight downhills I am walking slow and out of breath. We stop, discussing turning around and getting help. I see a couple of flashlights coming onto us, a runner and a pacer. They are trying to make it in to Halfmoon. May be I should give it a shot. I turn around and move forward. Out of breath after next 10 steps. Turn back again. See another light coming forward. Turn again and want to give it a shot. Bend over. Repeat another 3 times. No matter how sure I am I am not making it due to medical condition, I want them to tell me that (the officials). I am not ready to give up. Oleg is really scared. I am too. But I don't want to say I dropped. Next set of lights was the sweep. That was over. They were moving faster than I was, and getting to Halfmoon in the middle of mountains an hour after cut off would mean there will be no help there. We turn and slowly make it back to Twin lake. I am almost hanging on Oleg's hand, unable to walk even down. The aid station is demounted, the last person is ready to leave. We ask for a ride. It's over. The wrist band is cut. I practically don't care, trying to inhale enough air. On the way to Leadville, cramped in a volunteer's car with lots of stuff, I can't open my chest. I think on top of lung problems I began a panic attack. I thought we will never reach help and I will dye here, in a car, on the road. I am hyperventilating and panting, scaring a girl and Oleg. We finally made it to the medical tent. I get on oxygen for 30 min with strong suggestion to get to a lower elevation. After abotu 20 min, if I lay still, I can take a full breath. When I run, it comes back again - tight, short and weezing. Cough. Spit some crap from my lungs. That continues whole night, but by 6 am gets better. If I am slow, I can walk.
I am not hard on myself. There was nothing I could do. If I had time, despite all the symptoms, I would have gone on. I missed the cut off. That simple. The hardest part was to see quite a few of those who left Twin lakes with us, finishing the race. On the wire, but finishing. I question myself again if I could. I remember how it felt in the car. How it felt in a medical tent. How I missed the cut off. What's the point of replaying? It's over. Being there is painful, and we leave after we see the last guy squeezing it at 30 hrs flat.
Does it hurt (in my head)? Hell, yes! I did make peace with my first DNF. It's just a race. As Nick says, it's an experience and a lesson. I needed it, I guess. It sucks about the slam. Not that I will dye over it. But I grew to love all the guys and girls who's trying. Liz Walker rocks, she has asthma and pulmonary edema for 3rd year in a row there, yet she finishes! Gail, you came back from the dead, my heartfelt congratulations! Andy, I am so happy you made it! Me - I'll get over it. And after some thoughts I decided to go for Wasatch. It's OK I am not a slammer. I still love to run long. And, as Oleg said on that trail, it is more important to save this love (and life, I guess), than a single race.
Thanks to everyone who thought of me past weekend. I wish I didn't disappoint you. But such is life.
I'll see you all on trails.
Olga
Oleg is right, better to save your love and life and race another day than finish one race which will be there next year. You are an amazing runner with a long and happy career or running ahead of you. Learn from this, that it takes a strong person to know their limits, evaluate a situation and make a hard decision.......know you will be stronger in the future and that everything makes us who we are...it just depends on how you choose to learn from your life lessons. This was not a failure...this was you growing to become a better runner......you have many many many years of running ahead of you, this is only one paragraph in one chapter......you are an inspiration to me and I am glad we are friends. Do not relive this race as a failure...your body would not let you do what your mind wanted it to...usually the mind gives up first...the body is easy to strengthen, the mind is more difficult to train...but you have already made your mind and spirit incredibly tough.......you (anyone) can always make the body tougher, but a strong mind is something that is harder to train.....know that you have more than what it takes to be a lovely human and caring partner and tough competitor......
jason
Olga,
I feel like I known you for years because of all your race reports. I guess bad things come in batches. My company just laid off 50% of its employees, and I survived yet another round during my years here. Still, I didn't care about it as much as I care about your race. I've been checking the reports from the aid stations, and searching for your name furiously. I couldn't find your name after one of them, and I thought that the data was incomplete. I did not want to go the DNF route because you're a tough runner. I'm a little disappointed that you didn't finish, not because of the fact that you didn't finish, but because I know how determined you were to achieve the goal. Did that make any sense? Regardless, I am happy to know that you are safe. Maybe you're a little bruised, but you live to run another day. There is no glory in dying on the course. You'll get nothing more than a footnote in history of the race.
I have no doubt that you'll do this again. It's your life. You're born to run! In my book, you are still amazing!
eric :)
Dearest Olga,
I do not know what should I say... because I do not know you very well, but
coming from a fellow runner and a strong one as you are, I will say:
I'm very proud of you, you rock the mounts girl. Glad to know you're listen
to your body, because the ego is our enemy. You are here and heath.The
mounts are permanent. I'm sure you'll try next year and you'll be there much
more strong with all the lessons you've learned this year. And more, to
accepte our limitations is a sine of courage. I'm sure you know many
runners that are not capable to achieve what you did, recognize their
limitation, and you do not see their names on the races any longer and for
other they are no longer in this level of life.
Life is too short for us to learn evything by ourselves, and you showed that
you did learned from your fellows runners... never forget, you're the one
who are going home with your body... you did the right thing.
Hope you're feeling in your 100%, and wishing all the best in your next
challenges
Keep in touch, and thank you for get back to me.
Keep up with your wonderful work.
Love and serenity...
Lucimar
Olga,
I am so sorry about your slam, and that your race didn't go as planned. I know you never gave up fighting, and you did the best you could. My heart was with you on Sat. and I thought about you several times.
You are tough and I admire you so much.
How is your son? That is a heavy weight on your mind I'm sure. Is he back with you yet, or do you know when he will be?
Let me know if I can do anything for you.
Do you feel better now?
Theresa
Olga,
I am sorry to hear about your experience at Leadville. Altitude can be a bitch especially with little or no acclimation. Its a wild card and you just never know how your body is going to react to it. It sounds like you were really experiencing some pretty knarly symptoms and I am glad that you were able to get back to an aid station and ultimately to a place where you could be medically assisted. Its good to know that you are okay and that you will live to run another day.
So do not be too hard on yourself, I know its a let down but it happens to everyone and this time you had virtually no control over your bodies reaction to the altitude.
Take care of yourself and have fun at Wasatch!
-Walter
My dear Olga,
I am so sorry that the damn altitude waved it's wand.
I am SO very proud of you. Thank you for choosing life. Yours is far more precious than the slam. Slam shlam.....
You really are a hero, my hero.
Love,
Annechka
Olga--It is just a race, you did your best and that"s all that counts.I"m glad your going to do Wasatch. As we have plained I will meet you on Thursday Sept 8. All you whant to do is finish Wasatch, I have finish the race 7 times you and I( will !!!) finish. Talk to you about final plains before the race, nick
I was genuinely saddened to read about your problems at Leadville. I know you have done all the self analysis of how to get pass this problem and I have no doubt that you will in grand fashion. I hope we get time to run together at Wasatch. We all have things to learn from each other.
Admiring Mike with Love
olga you did not dissapoint any of us!!!
you gave it your very best shot and that's much more admirable than what most folks did.
no more tears
james
Olga--You did not fail. You did your best, gave it your best and thats all that counts. Now I have DNF in some 100 milers I don"t think of myself as failed. Things will not always go the way we would like, take the good with the bad, and move on to the next day.Now rest and take care of yourself. e-mail me in a few days and let me know how you are. No one! thinks any less of you because you did not finish. Listen to me, I have been there and know what it is all about, nick
Hey Olga,
I just want to say that you are still a champion in my mind and you didn’t disappoint me (or anyone else) for your superior effort you put forth. I’m glad you are still positive about your running and that you did all you could to try and finish. As indicated many times in your report, it just wasn’t your day. I am still very proud of you Olga for all what you have already accomplished this year (including Leadville) and what is yet to come! Your one of my inspirations that drives me to get me back to running again!
Thanks for all your encouragement and good luck to you at Wasatch and future runs.
Sorry I couldn’t be there to help you, but my knee might have backfired on me too.
We’ll talk to you soon.
John
Olga,
Thank you for sharing your story. I'm very sorry for what happened to you, and I'm positive you didn't disappoint anybody you sent this to. I'm excited that you're still going to run and finish Wasatch. Have a blast!
Sean
Probably ever (?)
In one word - altitude.
More detailed .
The story of how I had become statistic at Leadville 100 50% DNF rate and another "wanna-be" slammer.
Let me begin by stating that despite many predictions (or worries) before hand I didn't want to quit (or drop) in a race ever. I knew it would be very hard. I knew that the biggest problem I will encounter will be altitude. I knew I will slow down tremendously and had no obnoxious expectations of time finish - all I planned was to keep ahead of cut offs. Due to family and job obligations I wasn't able to fly there ahead of time and acclimate (I am just happy to be able to go for races at all). On top of it my family had run into some turmoil (our older son was held back in Russia after his vacation there instead of coming home last week due to favorite bureaucracy) and my head was filled with this instead of preparation. But I went to Leadville with a clear job to be done - come to the finish line. Honest;y, I wasn't excited much about this run even before problem arose - just not my kind of terrain anyway. But it was a mission. I wasn't going to quit. And I can say from the bottom of my heart that I didn't.
My husband Oleg and I flew to Denver Thursday night and by 10 pm were at Leadville. Next day after meeting some folks (Andy, thanks for your help) and checking in we went to scoot around the course for Oleg's crewing prep. Again, (sorry, Gail), not my kind of course. But nothing to be killed by. 3 big climbs done twice, lots of roads/nasty dirt roads with big rocks and some trails. I tried to "run) for 100 feet and went out of breath. As expected. Fine.
Race morning. Start at 4 am. Good weather. Stomach problems - not a biggest concern, but very annoying. Still, just swear. Surprisingly, I ran first 2.5 miles without any problem. Reached Boat ramp fine, saw Oleg and Sid (Gail's husband), then on to a Mayqueen. Didn't care about time, guess just over 2.5 hrs. First climb to Sugarloaf - dirt road to 11200 feet, on dirt road, but very gentle grade. Still - walk hard, not problems (besides stomach and stepping aside, but it's not something to cry out loud about). Fish Hatchery ( 23.5M) - 1 hr ahead of cut off. Perfect. Road to tree line. Pretty flat, but not inspiring to run. Stomach bounces, breathing difficult, walk hard, feel fine. Next aid at 30.5M, Halfmoon. Finally, stomach subsides (I knew it and it was a relief), and a second climb in two pitches toward Twin Lakes. Here is more steep, had to stop a few times to catch a breath, still OK otherwise. Ran out of water 1 hr before aid station, bonked, but came to Twin lake 1.5 hrs ahead of cut off. Very happy, just want to keep an hour cushion and think that once I am over the Pass twice will pick it up. Tony and Annie came down here to see me from Pike's Peak marathon - it was fun to see them. Change shoes and clothes, restock and determined go onto the Monster - Hope Pass at 12600 feet. After about 1.5M winding flat wet meadow we hit the climb. It is nasty steep. I begin to stop every so often, still mentally strong. By half point (and after I met Matt Carpenter going down) it started. The breathing began getting shorter, the stops more often. I do what I can, lots of people passing, but I don't get discouraged and just do what I can. 10 steps, stop, catch a breath, go. I thought nothing serious of it, just too much tar in lungs makes it worse than for others. As I got to Hopeless (12000 feet AS), I ask for oxygen, but it's not delivered yet. OK, lets get it over with. Climb last pitch. Can't breath. Think, everyone is in it the same. Start getting down on the other side. Despite not climbing anymore, breathing is still erratic, but at least I am moving faster. Come down to the trail head, see Oleg and can't talk - inhalations are short and not refreshing and the glands are swollen. Go for turn-around at Winfield for another 2.5 miles, but walk fast. See Gail, she says - don't drop. I am not planning to. I want to get over Pass second time. Come to 50M - oh, boy, I lost 45 min on my cushion! That;s how slowly I was up. Oh, well. Restock, go back. Pick up Oleg. He looks at me, sees something I don't and asks if I am sure I want to go on. I am. I said - 2 hrs of suffering, and it will be over. Everybody passes me. Everybody. All the people who made the cut offs at 50, passes me. It gets worse and worse. I don't go 10 steps anymore, I go 5, and don't just stop, I sit, lay, cough, can't catch a single breath, gurgle somewhere in my chest. But I am determined to get to the top. 2 hrs. Only 2 hrs. Hopeless on the other side - I get oxygen for 2 minutes. Did it help? Who knows. But the guy says I have 1 hr 35 min to get down. What means I lost another 40 min on cut off and pushing it. I get up and charge down. Oleg gets headlamps out. We pass at least 10 people on the way down. I try hard. I just pray if I get there with 20-30 min to spare (it seemed I was running pretty fast to gain time) and will be lower at elevation I'll resurrect. Twin lakes we made with 10 min under. Too little. Way to little time. Who cares, I am not giving up, no more Hope Pass, night is here, I'll make it. We change, and get out right on cut off at 9:45 pm. We have 3 hrs to make 10 miles in two pitches up and one down. Neither one of us is very optimistic (it took me 2 hrs 25 min on the way in), but we go on. They have to pull me out, I say. Dirt road climbs, and as soon as I step on, I bend over without breath. It's lower elevation now, but the damage is done. I can only go a few steps weezing before I half to either hug a tree or sit on a rock. No air in my lungs. But I am making it forward motion. For 50 min. 2 miles. Then Oleg, who had seen enough HAPE on the mountains, gets scared. It is in the middle of nowhere, and I am obviously developing pulmonary edema. I still want to make it to the next aid station and have them pull me out. It is no question I can't go 8 miles in 2 hrs at a rate like that, even flat and slight downhills I am walking slow and out of breath. We stop, discussing turning around and getting help. I see a couple of flashlights coming onto us, a runner and a pacer. They are trying to make it in to Halfmoon. May be I should give it a shot. I turn around and move forward. Out of breath after next 10 steps. Turn back again. See another light coming forward. Turn again and want to give it a shot. Bend over. Repeat another 3 times. No matter how sure I am I am not making it due to medical condition, I want them to tell me that (the officials). I am not ready to give up. Oleg is really scared. I am too. But I don't want to say I dropped. Next set of lights was the sweep. That was over. They were moving faster than I was, and getting to Halfmoon in the middle of mountains an hour after cut off would mean there will be no help there. We turn and slowly make it back to Twin lake. I am almost hanging on Oleg's hand, unable to walk even down. The aid station is demounted, the last person is ready to leave. We ask for a ride. It's over. The wrist band is cut. I practically don't care, trying to inhale enough air. On the way to Leadville, cramped in a volunteer's car with lots of stuff, I can't open my chest. I think on top of lung problems I began a panic attack. I thought we will never reach help and I will dye here, in a car, on the road. I am hyperventilating and panting, scaring a girl and Oleg. We finally made it to the medical tent. I get on oxygen for 30 min with strong suggestion to get to a lower elevation. After abotu 20 min, if I lay still, I can take a full breath. When I run, it comes back again - tight, short and weezing. Cough. Spit some crap from my lungs. That continues whole night, but by 6 am gets better. If I am slow, I can walk.
I am not hard on myself. There was nothing I could do. If I had time, despite all the symptoms, I would have gone on. I missed the cut off. That simple. The hardest part was to see quite a few of those who left Twin lakes with us, finishing the race. On the wire, but finishing. I question myself again if I could. I remember how it felt in the car. How it felt in a medical tent. How I missed the cut off. What's the point of replaying? It's over. Being there is painful, and we leave after we see the last guy squeezing it at 30 hrs flat.
Does it hurt (in my head)? Hell, yes! I did make peace with my first DNF. It's just a race. As Nick says, it's an experience and a lesson. I needed it, I guess. It sucks about the slam. Not that I will dye over it. But I grew to love all the guys and girls who's trying. Liz Walker rocks, she has asthma and pulmonary edema for 3rd year in a row there, yet she finishes! Gail, you came back from the dead, my heartfelt congratulations! Andy, I am so happy you made it! Me - I'll get over it. And after some thoughts I decided to go for Wasatch. It's OK I am not a slammer. I still love to run long. And, as Oleg said on that trail, it is more important to save this love (and life, I guess), than a single race.
Thanks to everyone who thought of me past weekend. I wish I didn't disappoint you. But such is life.
I'll see you all on trails.
Olga
Oleg is right, better to save your love and life and race another day than finish one race which will be there next year. You are an amazing runner with a long and happy career or running ahead of you. Learn from this, that it takes a strong person to know their limits, evaluate a situation and make a hard decision.......know you will be stronger in the future and that everything makes us who we are...it just depends on how you choose to learn from your life lessons. This was not a failure...this was you growing to become a better runner......you have many many many years of running ahead of you, this is only one paragraph in one chapter......you are an inspiration to me and I am glad we are friends. Do not relive this race as a failure...your body would not let you do what your mind wanted it to...usually the mind gives up first...the body is easy to strengthen, the mind is more difficult to train...but you have already made your mind and spirit incredibly tough.......you (anyone) can always make the body tougher, but a strong mind is something that is harder to train.....know that you have more than what it takes to be a lovely human and caring partner and tough competitor......
jason
Olga,
I feel like I known you for years because of all your race reports. I guess bad things come in batches. My company just laid off 50% of its employees, and I survived yet another round during my years here. Still, I didn't care about it as much as I care about your race. I've been checking the reports from the aid stations, and searching for your name furiously. I couldn't find your name after one of them, and I thought that the data was incomplete. I did not want to go the DNF route because you're a tough runner. I'm a little disappointed that you didn't finish, not because of the fact that you didn't finish, but because I know how determined you were to achieve the goal. Did that make any sense? Regardless, I am happy to know that you are safe. Maybe you're a little bruised, but you live to run another day. There is no glory in dying on the course. You'll get nothing more than a footnote in history of the race.
I have no doubt that you'll do this again. It's your life. You're born to run! In my book, you are still amazing!
eric :)
Dearest Olga,
I do not know what should I say... because I do not know you very well, but
coming from a fellow runner and a strong one as you are, I will say:
I'm very proud of you, you rock the mounts girl. Glad to know you're listen
to your body, because the ego is our enemy. You are here and heath.The
mounts are permanent. I'm sure you'll try next year and you'll be there much
more strong with all the lessons you've learned this year. And more, to
accepte our limitations is a sine of courage. I'm sure you know many
runners that are not capable to achieve what you did, recognize their
limitation, and you do not see their names on the races any longer and for
other they are no longer in this level of life.
Life is too short for us to learn evything by ourselves, and you showed that
you did learned from your fellows runners... never forget, you're the one
who are going home with your body... you did the right thing.
Hope you're feeling in your 100%, and wishing all the best in your next
challenges
Keep in touch, and thank you for get back to me.
Keep up with your wonderful work.
Love and serenity...
Lucimar
Olga,
I am so sorry about your slam, and that your race didn't go as planned. I know you never gave up fighting, and you did the best you could. My heart was with you on Sat. and I thought about you several times.
You are tough and I admire you so much.
How is your son? That is a heavy weight on your mind I'm sure. Is he back with you yet, or do you know when he will be?
Let me know if I can do anything for you.
Do you feel better now?
Theresa
Olga,
I am sorry to hear about your experience at Leadville. Altitude can be a bitch especially with little or no acclimation. Its a wild card and you just never know how your body is going to react to it. It sounds like you were really experiencing some pretty knarly symptoms and I am glad that you were able to get back to an aid station and ultimately to a place where you could be medically assisted. Its good to know that you are okay and that you will live to run another day.
So do not be too hard on yourself, I know its a let down but it happens to everyone and this time you had virtually no control over your bodies reaction to the altitude.
Take care of yourself and have fun at Wasatch!
-Walter
My dear Olga,
I am so sorry that the damn altitude waved it's wand.
I am SO very proud of you. Thank you for choosing life. Yours is far more precious than the slam. Slam shlam.....
You really are a hero, my hero.
Love,
Annechka
Olga--It is just a race, you did your best and that"s all that counts.I"m glad your going to do Wasatch. As we have plained I will meet you on Thursday Sept 8. All you whant to do is finish Wasatch, I have finish the race 7 times you and I( will !!!) finish. Talk to you about final plains before the race, nick
I was genuinely saddened to read about your problems at Leadville. I know you have done all the self analysis of how to get pass this problem and I have no doubt that you will in grand fashion. I hope we get time to run together at Wasatch. We all have things to learn from each other.
Admiring Mike with Love
olga you did not dissapoint any of us!!!
you gave it your very best shot and that's much more admirable than what most folks did.
no more tears
james
Olga--You did not fail. You did your best, gave it your best and thats all that counts. Now I have DNF in some 100 milers I don"t think of myself as failed. Things will not always go the way we would like, take the good with the bad, and move on to the next day.Now rest and take care of yourself. e-mail me in a few days and let me know how you are. No one! thinks any less of you because you did not finish. Listen to me, I have been there and know what it is all about, nick
Hey Olga,
I just want to say that you are still a champion in my mind and you didn’t disappoint me (or anyone else) for your superior effort you put forth. I’m glad you are still positive about your running and that you did all you could to try and finish. As indicated many times in your report, it just wasn’t your day. I am still very proud of you Olga for all what you have already accomplished this year (including Leadville) and what is yet to come! Your one of my inspirations that drives me to get me back to running again!
Thanks for all your encouragement and good luck to you at Wasatch and future runs.
Sorry I couldn’t be there to help you, but my knee might have backfired on me too.
We’ll talk to you soon.
John
Olga,
Thank you for sharing your story. I'm very sorry for what happened to you, and I'm positive you didn't disappoint anybody you sent this to. I'm excited that you're still going to run and finish Wasatch. Have a blast!
Sean
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
VT replies
Olga,
Just read your story, you are a great ultra runner and I admire you for what you have accomplished. You really do run with your hart there is no other way you could have done it.
When I read your articles I can actually feel you pain and glory, not an easy thing to put into words but you always fine a way. Thanks for making me cry in front of all my coworkers
They think I'm crazy anyway.
I only hope you recover soon and are able to achieve your slam goal. Please keep sending these stories you are as good at writing as you are at running.
Gary Spalter
Olga! Congratulations on persevering and finishing Vermont! You are one
tough, strong, humble, amazing woman! Your report did a great job of
highlighting the contributions of all the wonderful people who helped you
along the way, but all the help in the world won't get you across the
finish line if you don't have enough mental and emotional strength to get
there. And you did/do!! Wow. I hope your recovery goes smoothly
(especially your poor feet) and wish you the best on the next one. Thank
you for continuing to be such an inspiration!!!!
Caroline Klug
Olga:
You are amazing! You have inspired me to do those 15 milers in the summer heat and humidity. You tell the story so well, I was there with you while I was reading it. Your tolerance for pain and punishment is unequalled. I will think of you when I feel tired, or when it starts to hurt.
Good luck with the Grand Slam..
Dennis Burns
Dear Olga: I have little to add to all the things that others from
VCTC have said about you--but want to highlight your strength,
determination, endurance, inner fortitude--and wish I had had the
chance to get to know you better (as a runner and as a person--but I
think of you whenever I go to Rockefeller and will always remember
how you introduced me to running the trails in such a wonderful
place) before you moved west. But I know that running is something
that binds people together across the country, and I have the feeling
we will run into each other in more places than New York.
Bette Clark
Jason A wrote:
Amazing story!!!! What will power you have..with or without everyone around you. You said you ran for other people, but it came from within. You are very strong and that strength radiates in everything you do! Congratulations on a great race! two down and two to go...you can do it. I am so proud of you.........
Great report Olga!
And...you're beautiful as is...you don't need to lose weight! Just my opinion...
Joan Messick
I read a lot of race reports, and I've written quite a few over the years. This is one race report that was truly written from the heart, and one that could have been penned only by a true warrior who has seen the face of battle and lived to tell about the experience.
You are a warrior. Not a fighter in the traditional sense, but a modern day trooper of the trail; a crusader of ultrarunning.
You are the Bear. In Lakota (a Native American tribe of the upper plains states) legend, the Bear is a powerful animal, representing the direction of the west, the color black, and the realities & possibilities of change. The Bear represents strength, conviction of heart, and determination. The west also is the direction of the unknown, but the Bear leads us into that unknown with strength. It can be a dark place where we face our greatest fears with power.
In this Grand Slam journey, you still face plenty of unknown. But right now, you can stand tall knowing that you have conquered two of your four races.
I believe that your journey is not yet half finished, however. At the Leadville 50 mile point or the finish line, you will probably be "half way home." Wasatch presents a challenge that will take you to your absolute limit of mind, body, and spirit.
You have dug very deep into an energy reserve, but your bucket soon must be lowered even deeper into the well. The rope by which the bucket hangs must be stretched to its capacity...and even further. You might have to throw the bucket down into the well, or even be helped into the well yourself, suspended by your ankles that are held by your friends (your family, your pacers, your supporters).
You might have to jump into the well yourself when the situation looks most bleak. It could be dark and very, very scary. Self doubts, like the ones you experienced in Vermont, will only grow larger and scarier. It's at these times when your inner strength will be most tested.
At these times, the power of the Bear will lead you to the healing winds of the red north and the light of the yellow east. You have shown yourself and all of us that you have this power within you.
You are the Bear.
Greg pressler
Just read your story, you are a great ultra runner and I admire you for what you have accomplished. You really do run with your hart there is no other way you could have done it.
When I read your articles I can actually feel you pain and glory, not an easy thing to put into words but you always fine a way. Thanks for making me cry in front of all my coworkers
They think I'm crazy anyway.
I only hope you recover soon and are able to achieve your slam goal. Please keep sending these stories you are as good at writing as you are at running.
Gary Spalter
Olga! Congratulations on persevering and finishing Vermont! You are one
tough, strong, humble, amazing woman! Your report did a great job of
highlighting the contributions of all the wonderful people who helped you
along the way, but all the help in the world won't get you across the
finish line if you don't have enough mental and emotional strength to get
there. And you did/do!! Wow. I hope your recovery goes smoothly
(especially your poor feet) and wish you the best on the next one. Thank
you for continuing to be such an inspiration!!!!
Caroline Klug
Olga:
You are amazing! You have inspired me to do those 15 milers in the summer heat and humidity. You tell the story so well, I was there with you while I was reading it. Your tolerance for pain and punishment is unequalled. I will think of you when I feel tired, or when it starts to hurt.
Good luck with the Grand Slam..
Dennis Burns
Dear Olga: I have little to add to all the things that others from
VCTC have said about you--but want to highlight your strength,
determination, endurance, inner fortitude--and wish I had had the
chance to get to know you better (as a runner and as a person--but I
think of you whenever I go to Rockefeller and will always remember
how you introduced me to running the trails in such a wonderful
place) before you moved west. But I know that running is something
that binds people together across the country, and I have the feeling
we will run into each other in more places than New York.
Bette Clark
Jason A
Amazing story!!!! What will power you have..with or without everyone around you. You said you ran for other people, but it came from within. You are very strong and that strength radiates in everything you do! Congratulations on a great race! two down and two to go...you can do it. I am so proud of you.........
Great report Olga!
And...you're beautiful as is...you don't need to lose weight! Just my opinion...
Joan Messick
I read a lot of race reports, and I've written quite a few over the years. This is one race report that was truly written from the heart, and one that could have been penned only by a true warrior who has seen the face of battle and lived to tell about the experience.
You are a warrior. Not a fighter in the traditional sense, but a modern day trooper of the trail; a crusader of ultrarunning.
You are the Bear. In Lakota (a Native American tribe of the upper plains states) legend, the Bear is a powerful animal, representing the direction of the west, the color black, and the realities & possibilities of change. The Bear represents strength, conviction of heart, and determination. The west also is the direction of the unknown, but the Bear leads us into that unknown with strength. It can be a dark place where we face our greatest fears with power.
In this Grand Slam journey, you still face plenty of unknown. But right now, you can stand tall knowing that you have conquered two of your four races.
I believe that your journey is not yet half finished, however. At the Leadville 50 mile point or the finish line, you will probably be "half way home." Wasatch presents a challenge that will take you to your absolute limit of mind, body, and spirit.
You have dug very deep into an energy reserve, but your bucket soon must be lowered even deeper into the well. The rope by which the bucket hangs must be stretched to its capacity...and even further. You might have to throw the bucket down into the well, or even be helped into the well yourself, suspended by your ankles that are held by your friends (your family, your pacers, your supporters).
You might have to jump into the well yourself when the situation looks most bleak. It could be dark and very, very scary. Self doubts, like the ones you experienced in Vermont, will only grow larger and scarier. It's at these times when your inner strength will be most tested.
At these times, the power of the Bear will lead you to the healing winds of the red north and the light of the yellow east. You have shown yourself and all of us that you have this power within you.
You are the Bear.
Greg pressler
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