Final Push

All I had to do is to survive a little longer. Training and anticipation were building up, and frankly, I am not sure what to write about anymore. After keeping this blog for 17 years, it gets redundant. I run. I love mountains. I like to set up challenges and see if I can get them done, and how close I can come to my own predictions, if they do, indeed, get fulfilled.

3 days after Ram Party 54, I set out for my first Pikes Peak of the year, exactly 5 months to date since my last, which was my Winter Ascend FKT a day before Christmas. You can say that due to the cramps and essentially walking the race distance on Saturday, my recovery, once the muscle seizing and tightening subsided, was quick. Really, I pushed to the finish, but didn't push the body. With a winter storm coming to the region on the following weekend after the race, I had to make a dash up the Pikes on Wednesday, before work. It'd be boring to describe in details, but it went rather well and uneventful, I made it to the top in 4:30, which is my sort of average time (neither fastest nor slowest, just normal, when I just hike), the mountain was bare, the weather - spectacular, and I was happy to be back.

I ran into Allie on the way back, around Barr camp, and then, in the last mile, where the number of frolicking folks increases and the attention to pass them takes over the attention to what's under my feet - bam, full body slam down the trail, with my ribs hitting the ground hard (I thought I broke something, but luckily, not, only the usual, knees, thighs, elbows, hands...). God dang it, so tired of falling... 

This set me back for weight training and yoga, as well as made me doing my job more difficult, but, of course, didn't deter me from running and backpack hiking. The training went on. The first week after the Ram Party I put in 76 miles. 

The storm did come, covering not only Pikes Peak with 2 feet of fresh wet snow (we need the moisture!), but also the streets of the town, and the trees, which couldn't handle the weight of the snow. The downtown and all around where the old trees are, looked like and Armageddon on Saturday, with branches scattered and still cracking and breaking and falling, as I tried to run in the middle of the widest streets to avoid being hit. After this event, the trails were socked in and out of use for me for another few days, so there was a lot of road and local hike-n-bike trail running and hiking.

A week later I participated in some weird "ribbon cutting" ceremony of a local bike path as part of an Aravaipa group, and Larry and I had a date - we found Torchy's Taco uptown, the only good memory from my Austin years. That second training week went even better than first, all with 87 miles. Despite coming with some out-of-the-blue middle left side back strain, that left me nearly paralyzed where twisting, turning, or any other motions are concerned. BUT, I could totally be straight and do my thing! I did a bigger vert/longer backpack hike with 16 miles Friday, big vert 15 mile run Saturday, and another 14 mile backpack hike with some hills. However, the sleep for two of those nights was null, I couldn't turn or lay flat, and the worst part was getting in and out of the chair (or the car, my God, getting in and out of the car!). 

I got me a new lighter tent, repacked my food, weighed my pack, and the anxiety began rising.

 

By Monday night it was bearable enough to not only do morning trail exploration, but join Aravaipa fun and jog almost 6 miles in Red Rocks. The week that transitioned May into June, I checked out the new-ish (a year old) section of Muscoco Mountain loop (which is to be a part of the race course I signed up for), and squeezed my May climb on Incline, on the very last day of the month. Whew, almost missed it! It was a better one of this year.

Believe it or not, I actually tapered. Wednesday-Friday I ran local streets, doing 7-4-3 miles. Boring! But, I'll be honest, the legs are tired, and while the race - Tava Canyon 25 miler - is just a bump on the road of training for the more important thing, as I always say: you pin a bib number, you haul ass.

Saturday's weather was predicted nice. This race is put by a new company Revenant Running, which was another reason to sign up - trying to support new business in the area of the variety that I like. It's local, I've been (now) on every step of the course, even though I am not sure if it's a good thing for the race, or not, and with 5,000 ft of climb, it was going to be a doozy. As always, my main objective - to not fall. My second goal - come close to my prediction, which was 5:30, give or take. Not to cramp would have been swell, also:)

It's a brand new race, so the numbers who started were small. Still, we were there, and the race was real. 

Brian from Aravaipa Colorado joined, and we made our bets. I knew our finishing times should be close, and I also knew that I am like a freight train, slowest starter ever. Everyone, and I mean it, dashed by me, as I began walking my very first hill behind the very first curve after the start. Not kidding.

In a mile, I pulled ahead of 2 guys, and settled in. At the same time, my music stopped working - as it turned out, my headphone line died of age. I tried not to freak out - it was probably some 17 years as I raced (and pretty much ran) with music, and listening to my extremely heavy breathing didn't seem like a great idea. Alas, it was all I had. I skipped the first AS at the exit of Bear Creek park (mile 3), and faced the High Drive, a climb I knew like a back of my hand. I got around another man, and settled in behind a younger guy, slowly 

pulling up on  him just before topping off. We turned to Cap Jack trail, and I looked at the watch: I just PR'ed on the climb. OK, I said, calm down, no need to push and do stupid things, you got 25 min for this section. The guy passed me mid-way here, but at the AS I was right on his heels, again. I refilled my bottle, and patiently turned to the next section. Golly, how many times have I run this...twist, turn, switchback, connection to a steep downhill on Columbine. Take it nice, let him go, turn right to the new trail for a bit. Cross the road, hello, Muscoco trailhead. Good thing I checked it out on Monday, a reminder of what I was facing! The climb, however short (1.7 miles) was brutal, legs felt tired, but the trail was fresh in my mind. Last bit, and here's a new Sweetwater trail! About 4.5 miles of winding nice single track rolling up and down gently.

At mile 13 I come up on a woman, and pass her. Another half a mile later - that young guy standing on the trail with his arms raised. Bear! A juvenile bear just 10 feet to the left! Without breaking stride, I yelled: Hi Bear, and got around the guy. The bear stood on his hind legs, I made a growl, and the bear decided to turn and go into the woods. I smiled, as I slightly turned my head back to the guy: My trail name is Cat Magnet, wild animals just flock to me, not that I want it, but I am not surprised! I motored forward, and as he said later, my power walk was no match to catch. Good, I thought, even in this short distance, with this few people, I managed to pass. We drop down for another mile and half, cross the road again, and climb for a mile and half to Cheyenne parking lot. I get to an AS, fill my water bottles, as I see Brian: you caught me as promised! I am not the most talkative person at this point into the race, to say the least - I want it done, so I nod to acknowledge, and take off the last big climb, a mile on backside of High Drive. Besides now wanting to keep Brian behind, I am also coming up on yet another guy, whom I overtake just before the top. Thank you, sweet Jesus, 3 miles downhill on a wide dirt road. I put some burners on, and make 7:40's. It's actually tires me out just before that last AS, at which I don't stop, but notice a male and female sitting. I know, it's 0.5 mile uphill, and 2.5 mile rolling, but mostly gently downhill. I also know, I suddenly have a new goal - I am breaking 5 hrs. Holy shit! Actually, I firmly know I am doing it even if I walk it all, so I take it a bit slower than if I was chased - because I know I am not, and see no reason to pull something dumb. A finish line comes in sight, and I am done! 4:52! Brian comes about 7 minutes later, and I joke: masterclass in pacing, my friend:)

The food after-race is spectacular, all-you-can-eat tacos! First class!

We hang out for a bit, see those 2 ladies finish, and a couple more guys (I turned out to be 3rd female in this small field), and go home, shower - and eat more burgers! Don't worry, I barely made it through fries, my eyes were hungrier than stomach.

Next day my legs felt great, like nothing happened. But, my back strain was back overnight! It didn't deter me from planned backpack training hike, up Barr and down Bobs/Longs Ranch, 14 miles and 3350 ft of gain. You gotta do what needs to be done, it was a beautiful morning, even if the remainder of the day I wasn't moving much and couldn't even cough or sneeze. Damn, I need to figure it out! This concluded a little shorter mileage week for me, all of 78 miles, but with nearly 13k vert gain.

The following week was crunch time, do or die. By Monday morning my back pain was vindictive. I somehow put a pretty good flat road run in the morning, but my work did me in, and by Aravaipa evening I was barely walking, couldn't stand or sit or talk, even though managed to win 2 raffle tickets (a t-shirt and a case of non-alcoholic beer). Tuesday I crawled through a 3 mile walk before work, and finally begged my boss/chiropractor Lynn to put some electric stim on me. "It's just muscle spasm" I tried to explain. I'll be honest, I am not a huge believer into all this which craft (being an official MD in my former life). She ran her hands over my back, told me to take a big breath, and then - BANG - cracked the connection of the left side ribs and the middle of my spine, as I screamed and the tears burst out of my eyes. It hurt! I laid there on the table for another 10 min, quietly sobbing, until I was able to side-ways get off it. Well, here's a kicker - I have 2 dislocated ribs in my left back side of the ribcage, in the lower thoracic spine. Duh! 2 weeks ago, when I Superman coming off Pikes Peak, and mentioned I hurt my ribs as I slammed them, once I got up, my wounds and bruises took my concerned attention. The pain in the back came 24 hrs later, and slowly gotten worse, so I didn't tie those two events together. I should have known better.

The evening after that my back was sore, but much more manageable, and I woke up on Wednesday at 3:40 am, feeling quite okey and ready for my second Pikes Peak this year. It was a gorgeous day! Like clockwork, I clicked my usual times spots: camp, A-frame, top under 4:30. Took down some cuts due to last 2 miles being kind of frozen snow, and going down felt more dicey than scooting the gulley. Hurried up to get to work (I do second shift on Wednesdays). I didn't fall! I felt ok!

But, work and all my "elbow into tight backs" did its thing: my hurting pain returned, and by the time Larry and I did some sort of a date at the gold course, I couldn't even sit straight.

As I came home, and sobbed from pain and frustration, I gingerly lowered myself on the floor, and put a tennis ball under the spot. I heard "crack, pop" twice, and the pain somewhat subsided. Whoa! I texted my best friend Ronda, who had this condition a few years prior (and also never stopped training), and she said that it took her a month of popping those ribs in and out before it stabilized. The good thing, I seem to have figured out how to do it on my own, and might just have to hike with a tennis ball the whole trail;)

As I said, this week was a crunch time, whatever it takes. Thursday office was closed for some odd reason, what gave me free morning to do a backpack hike in Palmer Park with 16 miles and 1,200 ft of gain. Legs felt great, back held on, and in the evening I had to crack-pop it, twice, again. Friday is when my weekend starts, so I took my Gorilla up Rampart road, from Balanced Rocks.

The goal was 20 miles, so 10 miles up. I walked into an Aravaipa guy who was marking the course for the weekend's 100 miler (at which we signed up to volunteer), then into an AS that was set up already, and as I passed 7 miles, I turned a corner and ouch, walked into a guy facing the road (and me) next to his car, with his pants down and hands on his junk.

Jesus Christ! I got my phone out, he jumped into the car and drove downhill. I took a deep breath and continued up the hill, holding a phone in one hand, and a pepper spray in another. The only reason I even had a spray (and a knife in a pocket) was because I had a fully loaded for my through hike backpack! I never run with any protection!

 Half a mile later, I heard the car behind, and it was him. I quickly dialed Larry. He turned around his car, opened a window, and started yelling something, as I loudly yelled into the phone (and Larry's ear): "I am calling 911!" - and pointing mace at him. He yelled some more, I recited his license plate, and he drove off, down, again. I had to turned around and go down, rattled. This dirt road is one and only, with cliffs on each sides, no way to get out. I kept Larry on the phone for about 2 miles, but as time wore off, and I was getting back closer to "civilization", other (more normal) cars began driving up the road, cyclists, and even a runner and a hiker. I sort of knew this road is "fishy" in the early hours, with sort of peeps sleeping in their cars on the side, but I also knew it's a popular training spot. I guess if I want it as my route, I better not be alone, or start later (eh, hot and dusty!).

Since I shortened my climb and descend for the distance, I took a loop around Garden of the Gods park, which I haven't visited in many months. What a zoo with tourists! Crazy shit, cars, full parking lots, shoulder to shoulder. Pretty destination, indeed, but I just put my head down, until I heard my name - our realtor who got us this hoes 4 years ago was walking with his family:) I ended up with 20 miles, a solid day, hot one, and a bit frazzle, but solid.

After shower and food (and coffee), Larry was off for whatever golf-related stuff, and I decided to drive up to America the Beautiful park, where Aravaipa has their pre-race (Ring the Spring 100 and 50 milers) packet pick up and other activities.

Saturday was when Larry and I signed up for an aid station shift, but since it didn't start until 12:30 pm, and the location was conveniently at the trailhead I frequent (chosen exactly for this reason), I had 6 hrs to do more backpack stuff. Which I did - a Mt. Rosa loop (without tapping the Rosa itself), for 14 miles. Then, it was 5 hrs of aid station volunteering. My Lord, I forgot how steep and burly that side of Rosa climb is! 3 of those 5 miles were at 30 min/mile pace with a backpack and no poles, on tired legs. Perfect training. 

Sunday was winding down my pack training. I had just 10 miles to reach a 100 mile week, so I chose to walk flats and go to downtown area to see the first official 100 mile finisher of the inaugural Rind the Spring, who was a young girl! Way to chick everyone! The course is brutal, trust me, very deceiving, plus this was our unexpectedly hot weekend - 94F both days, and the AS were spaced pretty far apart (mostly due to volunteer limit this first year). She put down a great time for this course, 25.5 hrs! And the finish/start line is one of the best you'd ever want to be at. Really, America the Beautiful park with Pikes Peak in the background, which is what inspired this very song by the same name.

With that, it was time to taper - and to get anxiously scared and apprehensive. Wow, I am about to start on the biggest athletic goal in my life thus far! And I know exactly what entails to get through it! Plus, probably for the first time in a decade, so many people know about it...At first, I wasn't sure how I feel about this, I try to "sneak out" for my hard goals, I don't do pressure well. But, between hanging out with Annie's friends, and being their "old grizzly inspiration", and around Aravaipa, a first ultra-trail community since many moons ago, and Larry boasting with pride for me, there was almost no way around not being exposed. And so I stopped hiding. And felt unbelievable support. I am still extremely hesitant - what if I fail? It won't be crying in the pillow, it'd be a failure of huge proportions! I am working on taking it in stride, this vulnerability and exposure, and seeing the positive. So many people want me to succeed! As someone who's immediate family never ever supported my endeavors of any kind, it is weird and scary. And nice.  

For this week, I have planned an Incline, a final shake-down with my Gorilla (a name that is technically a pack's name from Gossamer gear, and which I lovingly call mine) on Wednesday, and Pikes Peak on Friday. The dislocated ribs are getting more stable with each day, and I have to adjust it fewer times a day. I strained my bummed right hamstring that was quiet for 3 months (!) on Monday at Aravaipa jog, but it, too, is calming down. The Incline went best this year than any other climb. Red Rock hike was a pure bliss - it felt so easy. 2 days of rest, and a little slower pace I could enjoy (before taking on an adventure) - and it was simply a walk on the beautiful trails in a place I live and love. 

Friday's agenda was to be deliberately slow and careful - biggest goal right now is to not fuck shit up! I actually started downtown, and made it a tad longer than last few Pikes ascends. It was gorgeous, as always. I love My Mountain...Which is why I was especially pissed by tourists season that day. I mean, I get it, destination, all the once-in-a-lifetime folks dragging their unfit bodies up the mountain, some better than others, some with better attitude than others.

I passed at least a dozen on the way to A-frame (10 miles from downtown, 3 miles to the top) - some replied to my "Good morning", some young guys looking unhappy that some female (over twice their age, mind you!) walking past them easily. I saw nobody past that point (well, one guy doing down-and-up for training from the top). Once I turned around, all those folks - and some more - were coming up, sitting on rocks, looking rugged. What really was appalling is that somehow on a 2 mile stretch, between A-frame and Barr camp going down for me, there was SO MUCH LITTER! I mean, smack in the middle of the trail, wrappers, empty water bottle, and even a energy drink can neatly placed in the center, I am not kidding! I picked it up - don't shit on MY MOUNTAIN! I was livid. I did draw a line at tissues/toilet paper/masks, and sadly saw a few of those more below, including the final 3 miles as other groups of said tourists come down Incline. Jeez! Disgusting...The day was hot, and I got my final acclimation and heat training in one.

Besides this big day, I am slotted for a little 10 mile trail outing on Saturday, and a flat trail backpack walk on Sunday. From there on - I could use some rest for the legs, even if not for the rest of me. I also enjoy watching Larry's return to his first passion in life, GOLF. He started playing when he was 13, and was a state champion in high school. He played through his younger years, until golf was replaced with mountaineering, and that was squeezed out by running. When we picked our neighborhood here, in Springs, the proximity to the gold course was a must. Just 2 blocks away from the 3rd oldest gold club/course west of Mississippi, Patty Jewett is a gem we both love. And Larry's finally getting his practices back to regular. Me - as someone who can't even seem to make a contact of the golf club with the ball, I simply sit on the side and chill. Rare thing for me, so I better use it!

And just like that, taper madness overwhelmed me. My mind is racing, and I can't sleep. This is it. It's almost time to go...

The pack's weight is a good 8 lbs lighter than what I started with last summer, due to splurging on lighter gear. It still has 20 lbs of food, a girl's gotta eat to move in the mountains...Gorilla fits me very well, and I am stocked to test it out in real life, for 16-17 hrs a day, many days in a row. I have goals, of course, but having DNF'ed last year, I don't want to freak myself out too harsh. I just want to make it through, first and foremost. In theory, since I am the first one to do it this direction, this style, as was with my first through on CT in 2018, it doesn't matter what I do. What does matter though is my integrity. I want to do it right. For the trail, for myself, for the future ladies going to crash it. So, here's I go. T - 1 week to start.

"The paces that you really grow are the ones that hit you in the teeth." - Jim Walmsey

Those who know me can attest, Colorado Trail does mean all that to me. The first time I through-hiked it in 2018, I was off the plane from Austin, TX, and stopped for the night at 4-5 pm for the first week. As the time drew into the second half, I realized I am actually capable of hiking it in an amount of time that could be acceptable for establishing female self-supported FKT. Then, the Collegiate Peaks Loop (a part of CT) had become an obsession. It took me 4 tries to get my unsupported FKT, one I can feel represented the respect for the trail and for the future ladies to break it. Last year, I set out from the other end...and I failed, again. I swore "never again". But this trail absolutely absorbed my soul, my heart, my mind, my body. A day after I got off the trail, I was dreaming of coming back. So, here I am. The training is over. I've been battling a couple of dislocated ribs for a month after a fall, and a bummed hamstring, but I have a very stubborn mind I am banking on. Colorado Trail, Durango to Denver, Collegiate West, Unsupported. Help me grow as you kick me in the teeth, and fingers crossed, I don't get kicked down. My biggest fear is to fail, again. Yet I have to follow my dream. And may the rainbow follow me, but not the lightening!