Sawatch 50 k++. I am a queen of cramps and diggers.

I guess it's been a huge year for me, well, 18 months, ever since that virus shit hit - thanks, pandemic. The sudden return to training was amazing, even if without specificity, yet with pretty high miles and some fun adventures, plus, I was back to races in 2021. Yes, indeed, it's been amazing, but - after a long hiatus - my body, apparently, could only handle it all for that long. The full week after our return from Maroon Bells backpacking trip, as benign as it felt to me, I was tired. I slept in every damn morning - until 5:30 or even 6 am on couple occasions - and barely slogged 3 miles before work. I was ok with that, I didn't push, I figured, it'll be my official taper - something I rarely did in my previous life, or even this year. After all, I had a crazy thing coming up, Sawatch 50k, which was technically 33 miles with 7,000 feet of ascend (and topping at 13,200, give or take). And I admit, I wasn't looking forward to it...

I had to drive myself on Sunday morning. It was an 8 am start, with 7 am check-in, so I got there and sat in the car watching the sunrise. At the bib table, I met my friend Kristin's sister I have heard a lot about - Heather, and this made me a little warmer. It was 40F, after all. But as sun slowly rose over the mountains, and as I finished my knitting project right in time for the start - it got warmer, and I walked to the start line, Mt. Princeton looming over.

When I signed up and printed the profile, I quickly assessed the course as an 8 and half hour thing. I made my aid station predictions, and put it aside. As the day neared, it felt like such a long time for an advertised 50k! I got anxious, and somehow managed to decide it should be 8 hrs. What was I thinking? I mean, I make 26 miles up and down Pikes Peak in 8 hrs (but not always, since half of my trips were in the snow), why was I suddenly planning on a 7 mile longer race with the same vert in this time, all while feeling like crap? I don't know, but it might have played some role. Might have not.

The start is on a grassy field, and soon we turned to the road downhill. I, obviously, know the next 9 miles very well, it being part of CT and done a handful of times, both directions. I entered the road in, like, 2nd-to-last position, not in a hurry at all. A guy next to me asked: how many people take off too fast? - as we saw dozens of runners, the whole field, spread in front of us. I said, a lot, over half? But maybe they are all that good and know themselves? I hope they don't run up the climb on CT though.

Once the road started inclining, I alternated some walking and some jogging, keeping in sight that guy and a gal in pink shirt. I called her "Pink girl", and she will be in my race the whole day.

The feared climb started in earnest around 4 miles, give or take, and I powered up, smiling.

Memories flooded. I managed to pass a (different) gal and 2 guys, and then the guy from the beginning of the race passed me just as we nearly topped off. I told him to look left at the Chalk Cliffs for the Alien. Yes, indeed, I know this trail as a back of my hand. I was right on his heels when the view opened up, and I yelled - Right there! - and we both took a photo. That rock never seizes to amaze me. 

 

The Colorado Trail meanders for the next 2.5 miles, gently rolling up and down, rarely too bad, but I was tired, for sure, and kept my power hike/jog going, never too far from the Pink girl. Half a mile before the first AS, mile 7.3, a Mile90 photographer took a shot (will post once they upload), and I smiled. 

Things weren't the best, but they were relatively good, and I got to an AS at 1:32 in, pretty much on time. I only drained one water bottle out of two, quickly refilled it - and was out in a minute, having passed a couple runners still lingering. We had another couple of miles on CT, and then the REAL climbing would begin. While still having some nice sections, I took a photo of the Fall colors, literally, burning the hills around. Yellow, and some orange up higher, was brining fire to the forest!

The race promised to show-case the fall colors, and it did it in spades. Once we turned to Brown creek trail, the trail got steeper, rockier, and harder. I still kept a Pink girl in a view, until, suddenly, after looking down for a while, I didn't. I took a turn, and came by a Waterfall (I actually always wanted to take the trail here off CT during my venturing, but never had the time). A male and a female runner stood there, telling me they don't think we're on a trail.

I asked if the Pink girl went by - nope. Ouch. All 3 of us retrieved our steps (luckily, maybe 5 minutes total), and found a ribbon we all missed to turn. I somehow passed both of them, and put my head down. I wasn't mad, just worked on a climb, hoping the Brown creek would come close enough - better yet cross the path - so I can fill up one of the bottles I already sucked on by then. The water kept making sound, so close, yet I was not interested dropping through some brush to get to it. Lazy, and it cost me, for sure. 2 bottles at high altitude and a very warm sunny day is definitely not enough for 3+ hr section...I was getting more tired, sort of in my whole body. At some point, surprisingly, I saw a Pink girl. OMG, I managed to get back to her! It was actually quite exciting, and we evened out our steps for a bit, as the climb opened up on a "bench" near the lake. She ran some flats, though, and I didn't, so she pulled ahead, again, but I kept her bright shirt in sight.

Shortly after some downhill (during which I was swearing, knowing we'll have to re-gain this back), staying on some rocky ATV type of road, the last, horrendous, climb was about to start. At first, it was turning and going up steeply without any views, and I had to take a couple of stops to just hang my head. I, finally, crossed a creek, and filled my water bottle - gosh, I was so empty! Soon, the view opened, again, and Jesus Christ, do we have to climb THAT? Indeed, I could see runners as ants on the path across that ridge. A mile and half to the AS, no way I am there at 5 hrs in (my new weird goal). I put my head down, yet again, and slowly began the ascend, passing a couple girls and a guy in a process (absolutely not sure how).

I began cramping at mile 16 (the AS being at 18.1), in my gluts and hamstrings, and walking uphill was panful to say the least. Yes, I did bring salt tabs, yet I was dehydrated for sure. Even as we gained the ridge, and "almost" leveled for a quarter of mile, and devils played their game and sent us on the last steep climb right before an AS. A woman was right beneath, saying "almost there" as she took our number to radio, and a photographer snapped the shots - can't wait to see that misery! I was gasped, I am not going to lie, and smiling would be a chore.

Technically speaking, I made it up there pretty well on time, if I were to use my original chart - or a mere 16 minutes behind for the new plan. Math wasn't my strongest at the moment, though, I felt defeated. I entered the AS, and two men jumped to help me. One said he knows me from Mace 100 ("I never was close, you were in the lead"), and another said he's lived in COS recognizing me (how? I am a nobody) and that Tina and Daniel just went up Antero ( local super star I like a lot). I wasn't in a position to ask their names, or even have much energy to talk, but it did make me feel like, wow, 8 years after I was a somebody, I still once in a blue moon get someone who knows my name. It felt very personable, and combining with the hope we got downhill ahead, I squeezed a smile out of me, got my both bottles refilled with water, grabbed a gel - now that I was some time behind, I wasn't sure if I had enough on me, and that was smart - and started to walk out. A guy who told me about Tina, and who was the one marking the course ahead - walked out with me for a few steps, explaining how I had to follow the ribbons across the tundra for a quarter mile, before reconnecting with the trail. Thanks, man. I looked back and took a photo of the AS. Good people.

The Pink girl was so closely in front, as we began descending, I started jogging, despite cramping non-stop. I soon gained on her, and passed right as we turned to that tundra. Following the flags, and not looking back, I connected with the Little Brown Creek trail, and drooped into a canyon. 

That was one steep and rocky descend! And I was cramping the whole time, but I tried to run, or jog, or do whatever, just happy we're no longer climbing. I passed a man (shot knees, he said), and one skinny dude passed me. The Pink girl disappeared completely behind, and I pressed on. At times, I was almost swearing, but for the most part, despite being pained with the cramps in my legs and butt, I kept pretty chipper, trying to figure out how to make it down in one piece. We were deep in the woods now, and I was praying for a junction with CT, please, and more of a leveled trail. Yet once we did merge into the Colorado Trail, it hit me like a truck - I have nothing left, and I am still a queen of cramps! It hurt, and I was out of energy, out of water, out of salt pills. I chocked on another gel, and texted Larry: "8.5 to go, walking in".

In a mile, the AS came in sight, and Heather was there. As I gave my water bottles to nice ladies volunteering, she asked - "How are you?" I replied - "Like fucking shit". I guess it caused a pause in people's faces (I didn't see, I was bent over trying to drink coke), and I heard her breaking the silence: "Give it to Olga to be honest". Thanks, girl. For that, and for offering me an ice-water dose-over! Gasp!

I took off from there, but stopped, turned around, and yelled - Need a photo with you! Couldn't just walk away, not fare.

The trail took us up for about half a mile, and as I topped off, I heard cheers, looked back - and the Pink girl entered the AS. Damn! Damn, damn, one thing I hate the most, regardless how I feel, is being passed in the last section. Not happening! However, the Cramp Game came to the height of its battle. I was clutching my inner thighs as I passed a young guy (from TX, who said he had an early start) and tried to jog whatever I could. It is here, as I pushed the effort while every muscle was doing the deadly dance, I tripped and smacked the ground. Whoa! The first half a second after that, I thought, ok, nothing's broken, but shit! The second half a second? My whole lower body seized in a dance of severe cramp, and I started screaming at the top of my lungs. Fuck! I can't turn, I am almost blocking out, watching my legs like giving birth to the aliens, muscles bulging in tight ropes and hurting, hurting! That lasted a good couple of minutes, I couldn't get up, because I couldn't flex anything. Then, in a corner of my eye, I saw that TX kid turning on the trail behind, and I thought: shit, this is embarrassing. I rolled over on my stomach, pulled myself on a grassy side with my arms, keeping legs in full straight position, and somehow stood up. I yelled to him "sorry" and began zombie-walking, holding both of my inner thighs squeezed with my hands. What a sight, grabbing my crotch and moaning. I can only imagine...My upper thigh bleeding, both of my knees, both elbows, and a right forearm. Nice. 6 miles to go, god damn it.

The TX guy actually passed me in a bit, asking if he could help. Nope, I am just going to suck it up, I thought angrily. The bulging inner thigh was screaming, and the weird thing, in a few minutes I sort of walked most of this shit, but the thighs - and the extreme pain alternated, from right inside, to the left. So, I kept squeezing my right groin, then left, and in-between run a few steps. Such a bazaar experience. As the steep downhill came to view, I passed the kid - AND the guy who passed me on this uphill, one with the Alien chat! He seemed ok, I showed him my wounds, frowned in pain, and took down at whatever cramping muscles allowed pace. And he was left behind?! Well, now I have to hold him off, thanks. As we dropped to the dirt road, gentle very slight decline/flat, I did my 20 steps running - 20 steps walking, and picked up one more guy. Whoa, dudes, WTF? The way I felt? I kept at it, the only thing on my side is knowledge - knowledge I have less than 3 miles, knowledge of upcoming road uphill, of ultrarunning, or my body. It was pure survival, and yet I was grateful for all the years I suffered before - because I knew I can suffer, again.

The turn eventually came, the grassy field, the cheers, and I sort of ran through the finish line. Holy shit, please show me these photos!

8:52:54, a good nearly hour of my golden goal - but only a 22 min behind the realistic one. I gained some places, but by far it was my worst finish in an ultra as position is concerned.

The RD Caleb gave me a hug - and a little bottle of whiskey (which my neighbors appreciated), and offered a nice chair. The photographer took a bunch of pictures, because I definitely looked like I was dragged by a truck behind through some serious dirt and rock. Heather, bless her heart, was there - and brought me a burger, a cup of water, and even a cup of beer. And I don't even drink! I consumed it all and got my sorry ass into the car, for the 2 hr drive home. Luckily, the traffic was light, as the cramps kept going - and once home, getting out of the car caused me a near-fall and a scream, yet again. I couldn't sleep all night, in pain both from bruises and cramping. For the next 2 days, my calves were hard as a rock and oh, so hurting. So were my swollen elbows and left hand - my work tools. Yes, the job was, um, interesting, to put it mildly. I don't have paid sick leave, or shit like this, so I was using one hand and half of the right elbow in an awkward angle, getting tired and pained on those. The running stalled, as I barely walked 2 miles each morning. 

Tuesday night was another sleepless night, overwhelmed by thoughts. My October looks quite terrifying right now, with all the weekend plans. Yes, I know, I should back off. As we say, at night all cats are black. Meaning, the problems are so huge and seemingly not solvable. But, as I got out for my Wednesday walk, I calmed down just a bit. The body is amazing. I have had quite a year. I am so grateful for all that I was able to do, so much, so different, lots of it like good ol' times. Yes, of course, I am not going to run it down, again. I am going to do everything in my power to adapt those weekends, and rest from too heavy of workouts (whatever it means for me these days) during the weeks. But I also feel it is so important to my mental health to keep after my goals. My emotions are on a roller-coaster as they are, with other things besides my athletic pursuits (some shit resurfaced), I don't feel it's in my best interests to just abandon things. I have to trust that I can re-assess each week, and make the best decision without heist and angst. 

November can't come soon enough...As for cramps, that seem to follow me ever since I moved here and re-entered the racing scene, I figured out. I used to get away with less drinking, even in hotter races, but lower altitude. Plus, I used to consume Power gels, which had more than double of salt content than Cliff gels I eat now (apparently, since my break from races, Power-gels seized to exists). Dang, I was able to do a 100 miler on 5 pills before, and now I eat 6 of them in a 50k, and suffer like it's not even there! Getting older, less trained overall for the efforts I try to bring to the race, and at high altitude, must be all causing this. It is possible to fix, and so I will adjust that part.

For now, I am going to take one day at a time. I believe in my body. I also believe I know it well enough to back off as needed - or let it do the work. I am not asking anyone for help or advice - even Larry - as I am the only one who will know what I need at that moment. So help me God.