April racing and injury

Here comes April. As far as normal life goes, we finally got our painting home. About 3 weeks ago we reached out to a local artists Dale Pittock, who's work we saw and really liked the style of at the gallery in Old Colorado City. We asked him if he paints per order, which he does - and there you have it, Pikes Peak in its glory is now in our living room! Literally, the next day after Larry picked up his work from the gallery, he went back and brought home an amazing oil painting of daisies - my favorite flower - by a different artist, Jerry Gwynn, just because I was feeling down. It proudly brightens my eyes now on the opposite wall of the Pikes Peak, and my mood definitely improved.

Just in time for a Saturday's 25 k race in Rattler Park near home, put on by Mad Moose events. They are a great company putting races around Colorado Springs and Moab (they split their time living between the two), and we figured, it's time to shake up the routine, support the local business, and maybe meet some people - or at least see some people. I pretty much described the trails in the previous post, they are basically a maze of single track, about third of which are smooth dirt, but the rest...all roots and piles of rocks, going randomly up and down (sometimes steep, even if short). With that, my main goal I said a prayer for was to NOT trip. I was still working on my hamstring, and doing anything to jeopardize it would set me back. With that, I was hoping to arbitrary break 3 hrs (I pick round numbers out of the blue, though while I do not calculate the pace, I sort of have a sense of general prediction, still), and maybe get top 10. Of course, I was seeded in first wave. Wat else is there, my old Ultrasignup results list send a wrong message.

The morning was super-cold as we waited in the car, but by 7:30 am, the 25k start, the sun began its work slowly. We shed the jackets and pants and lined up. Larry went in his (male) first wave, and a minute later the girls were out. As we crossed the grass field, I managed to take a wrong direction, and was yelled at by the ladies. Ah, me and my ever-taking-wrong turns. As soon as the first incline showed up (half a mile in), I was walking. First of, I never liked running uphill. Secondly, now I dislike it even more. And lastly, I have insane adrenaline rush at the start that I can never get rid of, no matter how many years and how much I don't give a hoot (especially now) about the results, I hate the feeling of racing heart up my throat - and I need to calm down. My tendency has been to force myself to walk and pretend I am just alone in the woods. It takes at least a mile, often two, to feel normal, again.

With that, the trail was winding up and down, rocks or smooth, and generally climbed to a high point. In a couple of miles I was in a territory I generally had familiarity with, and that continued on. Some parts of the trails I actually visited, some I was aware of location. I stared at my feet 99% of the time, walked the hills, ran the flats and downs, and felt by mile 4 or so some fluidity. I even passed 2 gals, and caught up a couple of runners from the 50k started 30 minutes ahead of us.

The second AS came (I carried all my own 2 bottles and gels), I rounded a corner and decided it was time to switch the bottles, the second being in my pack behind. As I swung a pack around the shoulder, walking a slight incline, I momentarily blocked the view in front of my feet, and hit my right (bummed) foot hard into a rock. It was done with such a force, the strength of that hit jerked my whole leg from bottom to the top, and before I knew it, while I did not fall, the pain seared and seized my calf, hamstring and glut. Locked me in, balled up and made me tear up. Great. Mile 7.2. Half way in. I can't walk. Of course, that didn't stop me. Luckily for me, that rocky trail was going up for the next half a mile, so I tried to calmly tell myself: I would have been hiking anyway. I tried to lift my right leg, and it was having none of the extension. Pain was so bad, I feared I had a tear in tendons attaching my leg and butt muscles to the sits bone. I hit the spots that felt like rock-ball with my fist, trying to release, as I was (carefully, but persistent) making my way up that hill. Running was practically out of question, though once the flat and downs came, I hobbled with my left leg, dragging right along for the ride. I also popped 2 Advil that I had with me, wisely. Somehow it worked, and the pain, while never gone, was getting manageable. Believe it or not, I passed 3 more people from 25 k (one girl) and a few from 50k. And then - I missed my turn at mile 10-ish. Totally my fault, and I recognized it a mere 2 minutes in - this race was marked immaculately, and that's how I knew, I didn't see ribbons. I re-traced my steps, saw the turn, and then saw a girl I passed 5 minutes earlier up ahead. Oh, damn. I have no energy or stride to catch her again...But, the ultrarunner in me kept telling just move forward. It's a short race, you can always walk it in. I did pass that girl on some boulders downhill (and another guy). In the last mile and half, that finally stopped being rocky, and had some downhill and flat sections, I felt like I could sort of run, and shortly saw the grass field and the finish line. Thank you Jesus. It is over. Dreama (a local ultrarunner we sort of knew a little) was cheering me on (she was working the finish line), and Larry took my picture. I hobbled in in 2:52, for 5th female. Where the hell are all the fast short distance chicks? It was over.

There wasn't much socializing at the finish line, of course. What were we hoping for? While individual persons were walking around, and there was a table with wrapped food choices, it's not the same. We grabbed a couple of packets of chips/cookies, and headed to the car. Larry had a solid run at his 2:30 goal and came under it quite some. Looking at the results, we are grateful, as 50+ year old, that we are fit and can hold our ground firmly, so far ahead of many others, young and not so much. We're very thankful, and it was, indeed, if anything, a good reminder.

Once home and showered, I was trying to access the damage to my leg and butt. The distance itself, and the effort (or lack of) didn't affect me one bit. The pain was bad, the range of motion (extension of leg forward, or, rather, flexion of the straight leg at the hip) was not even an inch. I rolled on a foam roll carefully, self-massaged, used The Stick and the golf ball, gently stretched (walked my talk for real). I could feel a bump in my lower glut maximus, as well as balled up hamstring, and the majority of the pain was coming from right above sits bone (ischial tuberosity).  I was seriously concerned for potential of small tears of hamstring tendon (lateral head of bicep femoris mostly), and for sure I had a muscle and tendon strain in hamstring, plus whatever was happening in my glut. The calf seemed to have calmed down after the race, possibly a chain reaction of tightening of the upper leg. I was worried that not only I set myself back, I caused some serious injury on such an unimportant event, screwing my goals ahead. To take my mind off, I fiddled with my new backpack. Always a calming effect!

On Sunday I put my 30 lbs backpack on, and hiked up 8 miles, including a big circle to the park where second installment of the same Rattler race was going on. The first 2 miles were excruciatingly painful. Eventually I got adjusted to a short stride with a limp, and kept at it. I cheered some 50k who just started as I rounded the corner, and chatted with a couple of girls who saw me start/finish the day before. One thing for sure, my city has amazing views, taking my mind off the pain.

Monday morning came, and I carefully stepped outside. Ah, damn. Right leg can't extend forward more than 2 inches, and it hurts as a mo-fo. I shuffled (I am streaking, so there, my explanation). As I threw my left leg in a "normal" stride, the compensation, almost hopping sort of thing, slamming with left, tilting pelvis - all that lead to aching left hip joint and sore left quad. But I made it through 5 miles. Another weird thing was that I needed to stop and catch my breath/HR a couple of times, even though I was averaging 11 min/mile. The effort it took me for that lopsided "run" made me exhausted. I called my PT and my chiro, but neither could squeeze me in at the times that I was available (a.k.a. not making other people feel better). So, I bid my time, took a deep breath, and focused on treating the injured spot myself. Lots of what I did on Saturday after the race continued whole week.

On Tuesday, I had a surprisingly ok Incline ascend, though shuffling down was another story. Still, seems that if I bend my leg at the knee, I can actually climb ok. That was encouraging. Wednesday and Thursday I had a couple more 5 mile road/street runs before work, and while I felt that my stride extended from 2 inches to maybe half of the usual, the fatigue plagued me continually, making me stop inside those measly jogs. I still didn't give up hope, or doing my rolling and stretching. Amazingly, I was finally using my own advice: work on injuries consistently yourself, don't wait for a professional to work their magic once in 2 weeks. It seemed to be giving results, slowly but surely. Friday was a big test - a long run on a rolling dirt hike and bike Santa Fe trail.

Of course, Thursday night we had a snowfall and temps went down. Nice. I dressed up, disposed of my 3rd water bottle as an extra weight (I can definitely do 20 miles on 25 oz in cold weather), and Larry dropped me off at the trailhead. From the get-go my goal was to power-walk every hill (and any flat my heart desired) and gently jog downhills. Nothing on this trail was extreme, no tripping should be happening, no big climbs or descends (20 miles gave me 750 ft of gain). Not much exciting to report from that outing, just head down and make it happen. I was patient and only wanted to complete this "run" in one piece. I did. Mission accomplished. And while I wasn't good, I wasn't worse for the wear. 

It was pretty in its own way, of course, white snow covering making everything look pristine and pure. However, I was ready for dirt, shorts, and no jacket.

That will have to wait another full week, at least. On Saturday Larry and I decided it was time to head back for the mountains, to our most often used trailhead at High Drive. It's been 5 weeks for me (and more for Larry) since we started here, and I was ready to test my leg on some hills, and get some elevation change in. We came just in time to catch a spectacular sunrise that I couldn't resist to take pictures of.

We got to the beginning of the climb, and Larry's like: WTH? Yeah, honey, I wasn't surprised one bit. If the downtown got snow, what do you think happened here? I was mentally ready for it. Larry, though, after a mile trying to run up in the snow ahead of me hiking, stopped, waited - and we decided to make it a couple's hike. I was happy to oblige. 😍 As soon as the dirt road climb (2.7 miles) topped off and we took a turn for the trail - it was obvious nobody had come here yesterday. So, with that, I was the one breaking the trail ankle deep. Seems to be my kind of thing this winter, ha?

It was so gorgeous though, even if cold. We were certainly underdressed (for hiking, having barely enough for a run), but I tried to keep our spirits up. Before we know it, the snow will melt (one would hope), and the summer heat will be here.

I was trying to capture the sparkles on the snow and in the air from the sun rays.

That wonderland outing was chased with Rudy's tacos, which we, too, haven't eaten in a couple of months. All was good after all. We spent the rest of the weekend lazily doing nothing (I finished a huge book I've been trying to work through, and we watched 2 movies together on Hulu, which is a record for me in one day). On Sunday morning I also walked with a backpack (now at 35 lbs) for 9 miles, my longest training of this sort, though still flat hike and bike dirt trail.

By Monday I knew I had no tear in my butt or any kind of long-term injury, and the strain was getting to the point where it was before I re-injured it at the race a week prior. I could get behind that! In excitement, I put down 7 road miles at a clip that I (in my now-life) call a tempo effort. I also didn't need to stop due to the dunk in energy reserves as I did last week, so I guess it's back to square one. At the gym (while previous week all the leg workouts were dropped a level in weights and reps) Monday and Wednesday brought me back to a full hour of push. On Tuesday morning I saw my PT Kalie, and she confirmed all of the above. Kalie is really awesome (I didn't click with Jacob). She is a collegiate runner, has done some trail races (shorter), is very knowledgeable, and what makes me very warm and fuzzy - shows that she cares. She remembers all the details about all the injuries (a big list) I gave her for my 30 years of adult life, all my life's events and big accomplishments in ultrarunning/FKT world, and expresses big interest in the future goals, truly (seemingly) wanting me to succeed. She worked on my leg and butt, using A.R.T. and this time dry cupping instead of Graston - which somehow felt even more painful and totally showed me all the fascia adhesions I have. Fingers crossed, plus I am keeping at my own routine of self-treating! 

We had freezing rain on Monday night, with temps plummeting to 14F (icy roads, anyone?), and Manitou/mountains got another dusting of snow on Monday and Tuesday, which made my Incline on Wednesday pretty yet careful.

I've been putting some miles as an add-on to my regular runs walking around with 35 my backpack any time I get a chance. If I have a cancellation at work - my pack is in the trunk of the car along with extra shoes, and I am off for an hour. Thursday morning (thanks to some odd one-off schedule change at work) I added a first real climb with it, up and over High Drive and back. That is a really solid hill training for just about anything: 2.7M/1300 ft up, 1M 450ft down, repeat backwards. So far this new pack feels good. I even jogged the downhill for about half of it. The real test will be sometime in June, when I take it out to Pike's peak and do 30 miles loaded fully.

Winter does not want to go away here quite yet, and while I long for less clothing and a little warmer starting temps for my runs, once I am in the mountains, I still feel like my breath is taken away by the sheer beauty. 2 years of living here, and by far the best place on this Earth for me (us). I pray I never lose this feeling of awe, majestic views at every corner, and peace it brings to me.

It was a good thing I was able to do that backpack climb/descend on Thursday instead of originally planned Friday, because next morning I woke up with gluts sore like there's no tomorrow! Wow, so much for squats and Incline training - apparently, it's not specific enough. Glad I was reminded of that early in my prep. I ran a quick fartlek and took a yoga class to loosen up my behind. We picked up our packets for Cheyenne Mountain park races on Friday night, and got ready for our second race of the year. Another home-put run, 20 min drive to a State park, a very local production benefiting athletes with disabilities. Good cause, great price, a solid option for a supported long run. I picked a 50k for myself, and Larry signed up for 25k. The courses (in our short experience) in Colorado Springs tend to run short, and this one was cut a bit more due to the rules of less head-on traffic. It is a moderately benign course on well groomed trails, some rocks of course, advertised with over 4,000 ft of climb for the longer version (2 loops, laid out as a balloon and a lollypop in figure-8, my watch showed 4,500 ft gain, 8-ish and 6-ish miles for each section).

My main goal, of course, was to not f*#& up my leg, or anything else in my body, for that matter. There's bigger fish to catch this summer, these races and runs are simply stepping stones, fun deviations of the routine. It was just above 35F at the start, with a promise to quickly warm up. All the runners went out together at 8 am. Kind of late for me to start running, but not like I have a say. We showed up with more than an hour to spare (20 min drive, and our regular 5 am natural wake up), and watched people to arrive from the car. The local female star Dreama Walton was being interviewed - and videotaped - seemingly non-stop for the full hour. She's in WS100 this year, and she's the one of the 2 people we sort of know here in ultrarunning community, the other being Brandon Stapanowich (he worked the main AS and said hi to me). Finally we got out of the car, and Dreama dragged me into the very first start wave alongside herself. Yeah, ok, whatever, not my first rodeo, fast guys have no affect on my pace. Off we went...

It was a sense of familiarity right away. First of all, even though we've only been to this state park 3 times - all on Black Friday (when CO state offers free entry to state parks for health instead of shopping), it felt like a home turf. Secondly, the notion that I am in a race that is an ultra. It's been 7 years since I finished an official ultramarathon (as short as this one is, still). I let Dreama and 3 guys from that first wave go, and then was passed by runners from waves behind me, both 25k and 50k, non-stop. As I was settling in, Larry came from behind and gave me a kiss. So sweet! Shortly after, I came on a guy who was totally "blast from the past" - Greg Loomis from our Montrail running team days! We chatted and run/hiked together for the next mile, when he went ahead. I followed 3 mantras I repeated excessively: watch your feet, walk the hills, stay in the moment.

As is normal with me, first 7 miles are when I feel pretty crappy. My breathing is erratic, I am not feeling my body quite well, but I still remember the main points of doing and ultra: patience and taking care of myself. As I hiked the hills, I stayed right behind every one of those 5-7 folks who were running it. For the life they could not shake me off. I thought of something I read recently in a book: more often than not we're told to work on our weaknesses to excel. For me that'd be flat running pace/turn over, and uphill running (that I pretty much rarely do at all). But in this book, the advice by a couple of the "greatest titans" was the opposite: work on your strengths. I will never be fast in running - wasn't much to begin with (relatively speaking, I was ok, but not fast by any race standards), but I can hike like a mad woman on the climbs and I can (could) run downhills. Funny, this year, even though for the first time in years I consider myself "training", I haven't done a single "prescribed" workout. No intervals, no hill repeats, nothing. If body feels good, I run a little faster. I let it decide. I simply put my miles and vertical down.

Photo by Dionne Randolph

Anyway, back to the race itself. I stayed around the same group through the first "balloon" to the start/finish AS, and then into the second lollypop. Which, by the way, while shorter, had a more continuous steep climb that was also technical (a.k.a. more rocks to catch toes). I was running with a pack and still using what I started with, and hiked powerful - here's where I began feeling super-strong. I guess I need about 10 miles to get in the grove. I passed a few guys, and at the top of that climb - another guy and a gal (who really didn't like me on her heels those miles and miles prior). And as the downhill, still full of rocks, appeared, I ripped it. Well, not the way I used to, mostly cautious, yet somehow much faster than most of runners in my group, dropping them behind. I was beginning to feel real joy in this race, rising from inside, and knowing, I am going to finish it.

Photo by Dionne Randolph

I came through the end of loop 1, where Larry was waiting for me with my drop bag. He finished his 25k in 2:19! I got in at 2:49, apparently in 5th (which he didn't tell me, thank you very much). It was such an awesome experience - like good ol' days - to see him catering to me at the AS, brought fuzzy memories. He is my super-star. Calm, quick, knowing my every eye movement. I tore my long sleeve shirt off, leaving only short sleeve (it was getting warm, 50's). He popped a can of V8 juice, filled my soft flask with water, put my prepared hand-held into the pack, and gave me 4 gels to go. All took a minute, and I was off, after giving him a kiss. It was a dry-run for our upcoming 100 miler, and it went without a hitch!

Gosh, I felt amazing. I couldn't believe it. My breathing and HR were much calmer than on the first loop, yet I felt stronger and positive and smiled non-stop. The steps and miles rolled so much faster on this second loop! As the first lollypop of loop 2 went on, after passing 2 more guys (I smacked one on the shoulder "Did ya miss me?" because we played catch all first loop, and then took off), I was lonely for good 2 miles or more. Then near the top/middle of it, I spotted a female ahead. Suddenly, the competitive blood came to surface. "Stay calm" I said to myself. I tagged behind for a couple of minutes, and one I knew the downhill is within another minute or so, I got around her so definitively, even I didn't know I could. I put ground on her so fast (in a process passing another gal), and that particular downhill was so smooth, I kept churning my feet and running almost all the way to the AS.

Photo by Tim Bergsten

Once there, I dropped my pack to the ground, shoved last 2 gels into shorts' pocket, filled my water bottle at the AS for the first time, and waved at Brandon: "My first ultra in 7 years!" - he yelled "Welcome back!". It was such a rush of emotions, yet to my utter surprise, I felt even stronger than miles before. Like I could push and push and push...and push I did, passing 2 more guys. That climb was just amazing, I kept looking at my watch, knowing exactly when the rocky downhill will start, and how much before it'll be over, almost wanting it to go on and finish at the same time. Last brief stop at the AS 1 mile from the finish - ladies were dancing for me, so I did the favor in return, and they just couldn't believe how much I smiled and was in a great mood. I chocked up a bit, that last mile, and briefly caught my left toe on a rock - what brought me back on Earth: it ain't over until it's over. Took a 30 sec walk break, and went for the final turn. 5:43:41. Golly, if those are not even splits, I don't know what are: 2:50 and 2:53. You try it! Larry was at the finish taking photos (he went home, showered, and bought us pizza, my knight in shining armor), and the RD Tim was waving for me. I am back, God damn it! For however long and however not fast anymore, I am back at the ability to manage myself through a longer race, my strongest suite!

Photo by Tim Bergsten

RD Tim Bergsten

Dreama Walton

Greg Loomis

I thanked every volunteer I could find - while at that, RD came by and it turned out, I was 3rd female! I kept saying thanks, and how happy I was, and how wonderful the course layout was, perfect marking (not too much, not too little), and how cheerful volunteers were. Hugged Greg, Tim the RD, then Dreama - who won (of course, by a full 35 min ahead, and was, yet again, being filmed and interviewed since her finish non-stop (how long can they talk, and what the hell about?). At home, I opened an envelope they gave me - $100 bill, sweet! And I wasn't even feeling broken down! The biggest feeling of success was how strong and happy I felt in the second half. Damn, I forgot that feeling. What a high.

Showered, and gulfing down pizza, we had one more thing on the day's agenda list: a free invite to the new Olympic Museum, organized by our realtor and his firm as a thanks to all the clients. 2 years ago it was the Zoo, last year was a nothing. I wasn't going to miss it. The newly built and opened just past September museum was huge, and most impressively for me, carried the displays of all the torches and medals - plus lots more other stuff.

We picked up some Thai food - well deserved, and supporting local business today in spades by our family standards - and finally crashed in front of TV. Because, as I said, this race, as the one before and the one ahead, is simply a stepping stone. Sunday it was back to training - as well as chilling in the backyard, soaking up 70F sunshine we were gifted. Welcome back, hun. Hold on to it with all your might and heart, because it is a sweet feeling I loved so much, one of being strong, capable, and part of the community I love and spent years together with.