At the beginning of the previous century, gathering the funds for the first expedition to Everest, George Mallory said: "If you can not understand that there's something in man which responds to the challenge of the mountain and goes out to meet it, the struggle as the life itself, upward and forever forward, then you won't see why we go."
Such a true statement. To enjoy life for some of us is to drive forward, towards challenges, playing on the edges. As one of my best, longest, and inspiring friends, Ronda, put it: "I love that we still try hard. I'm not buying into this old/washed up stuff. Got to be careful of the stories we tell ourselves." To my advantage, or detriment, I possess the desire and drive to keep pushing my own limits. 2 years ago over Christmas, a ski accident left me with a torn ACL, MCL and meniscus. I never doubted a comeback, and after having one (and then another) knee surgery, I was running strong and unfazed, again.
2025 was my 26th official year of racing. Holy moly, how time flies. And I'm still extremely anxious before each and every time I pin a number on my shorts...which I did 13 times this year, from a short local series to a 100 miler, and anything in-between. I'm torn about writing a detailed description of how the year went, because - who really cares? But first, the year wouldn't have started, if I didn't jump in feet forward with a December 2024 challenge - the time that was supposed to be my R&R.
And then, there was time to begin the training cycle. How could I top December off? Nah, I wasn't trying, I was simply doing my thing. Winter running in Colorado. Cold, snow, sunrises, icy trails, and somehow plenty of sunshine-y afternoons to keep the stoke going. Friends, coffee dates, falls on trails, hard workouts (mostly on the Dreadmill), and long runs on tap. Four short local races with surprised performances that lit the fire of hope for the year ahead. Not giving up on my dreams quite yet. We went cross-country skiing 4 times this season, and even returned to downhill skiing! Apparently, it's like riding a bike (which I wouldn't know, because I don't bike) - I felt fine despite 2 years and 2 months of a break, and my PTSD was over with on the first ride down. Though, of course, I don't have any plans on skiing recklessly - or a lot - or too steep and bumpy, for that matter - in any near future. I still have running to do, and don't have time to get anymore surgeries.
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Canyons 100k was a definition of what an ultrarunning addiction (allure) is. That rare case, when you overcome, solve, adapt, stay strong and driven enough to not only persevere, but shock yourself with the result beyond your expectations. So you keep chasing this elusive feeling: one day, maybe, everything will fall just perfect, and you find out what your true potential is. The race weekend in CA had a cold start, wet snow/sleet through the first 15M at higher elevations, then driving rain for the next 15M, with slippery trails and lots of water equaling wet feet and non-functioning hands. The memories of Oregon life kicked in. The drink on the race course proved to be disastrous - my gut shut down. At 22M I started working on flushing it out. Experience matters. In a way, it was living my WS100 experience from 2005, on the same course (with the same body problem). My time goal was 15:30. By 28M I was 20 min faster, considering sub -15. The whole Cal street section was a complete shitshow (literally - pardon the pun). 47M - I am 40 min ahead, and feeling better. I just had to "stay in the game" for the next 8 miles, then do "nothing stupid" for 6 more, and a final push. The "flushing salt out" process turned into "stop to pee every mile" from there on, but what the hell, might as well. Half a mile before the finish, my muscle memory turned my legs left off the White Bridge, and led all the way to the track finish of the WS100. But this was a different race. I had to retrace my steps uphill, and get the correct last half a mile in a sprint, to get 14:30. An hour under prediction. Thus the draw of this crazy sport. It happens once in a blue moon - you feel justified for all the time and effort you put into training. I lost most of my downhill skill since my knee surgery (PTSD is real), but I can still climb, focus, problem solve, and spend no time at the aid stations. Especially grateful for Larry's presence there - so neat to run for the finish line where someone you love is patiently waiting - and fall into their arms.
By the end of next month, the hay is in the barn. It was the final block for my A-goal of the season, and I'm grateful for my body held up. After Canyons weeks were full, hard, and had a solid 50k race thrown in. Back in December, when I was choosing my races, San Diego 100 was more of a last minute choice (the one I was looking at was cancelled). 12 years ago, I went to this very race hoping for my sub-24, and I got it marvelously done. It was time to go back. Word was getting out that this course is harder than the old, and it proved correct. In my 5th visit to SD100 (4 finishes/1 pacing), this version was true to the RD's pre-race words "It's beyond technical, it's just rocks!" Rocks in all kinds of form, shape, size, and placing! If only I knew that when I signed, training my ass for one more chance at sub-24. I went for the Solo division (again), to see if I still got it - no crew, no pacer, just my experience, and my will. Simplicity rules in ultrarunning - eat, drink, keep moving forward. Things will happen, it's how you react and mitigate that matters. I got off course for a mile; cramped for 5 M while walking like a Frankenstein; tripped on top of the ridge at dawn (got caught by a thick bush before falling off the cliff). The ol' torso side lean was back in the last 10 miles, again (better than facing a cougar at mile 93?). Overall, a textbook. 50 gels, Tailwind, 4 drop bags, few random foods from the AS's at night, ice sponges during the day, 1 sock change midway, 2 lights for the night, old pair of shoes I tossed at the finish (they had 560 miles). At mile 40 I learned I'm 3rd F (?!), and competitive juices kicked in. I kept pushing, cursing the slow rocky downhills, barely stopping to get a bottle filled. While the time goal went out the window, the gap from the chasing ladies grew from the initial 13 min to a full hour by the end. Me, myself, and I - we got that last podium spot in 26:18. I showered at the camp, drove myself to the airport, and flew that evening home.
With that, I was pretty much free to roam. I turned 56 in October, and Larry and I went to tag a 13-er, Hoosier ridge. I also did some fun in Sawatch by myself, before the snow came - a big loop with Jones mountain and a section of CDT (and a questionable descent to connect those two), a loop for the 14-er Mt. Yale, another Pikes Peak, and a lot of chasing fall colors while it still lasted. And, what do you know, I did jump into a local 35 km race - after I volunteered in the morning and was offered a free entry. How could I turn it down? It wasn't a stellar performance, but it closed off the door shut on my year with a smile.
For the next 2 months, I actually do intend to take it down a notch. No more Vertmas or sudden races, I took a break from Strava so that I don't feel inner pressure to impress the handful of folks who occasionally look at my runs. With age, my tolerance to cold has gone down pretty hard (I started to understand SnowBirds), and I've been circling the local streets, keeping my mileage around 60 a week (a maintenance number for me) with one quality (to remember how to churn my legs), and one long'ish (double digits, evcen 10 counts) runs. I also need to figure out some things for myself going forward.
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Next year I plan to race - about half of what this year was - all locally, including (hopefully) a culmination with a 100M race I am interested in, a new-ish and not far away. I'll build up slowly and won't start registering until April, when I know I can get things done and keep rolling. Thankfully, because it's all Aravaipa Colorado, they still don't fill up, and I have a luxury to linger on paying the money until the very last week before each race. In this day and age, it's unheard of, when races are sold out within a week of opening registrations, and oftentimes have lotteries on top of it. After participating in 2 of the UTMB events - read: huge crowds, no personality, elbowing on trails - I don't see myself doing it again, although I was signed up for Kodiak 100k this past October - which is UTMB - and I rolled the entry into the next year (sadly, they don't offer refunds, of course). So, there will be one trip out of state, one big hoopla of a race, to close my season in 2026. Otherwise - nope. In fact, I also decided that I never ever want to race in Europe, partly after the experiences with crowds I had here (and those 800 starters were about 1/2 or 1/3 what Euro races would bring, with standing in line to enter the single track for miles), and partly because Larry left his job, and we're even more mindful with spending on such frivolous thing as racing. Nobody's going to die of starvation here, but flying to Europe, 2 airfares, spending 3 days prior the race fidgeting and nervous and being not fun on my part (and thus ruining Larry's time), then spending a day or two partaking in a race (where I won't be able to truly run my potential), then taking 2 days to recover...what's left, for that money spent? When is the sightseeing and hiking the gorgeous mountains? We don't like traveling for more than a week max, and this is such a selfish idea, that I clearly wasn't thinking while signing up for a race in the Alps held past September (fortunately, this one did refund fully, but that was because I was smart enough to buy insurance protection). So, would we like to go visit the Alps? Yeah, some day, no race attached. Still lots to explore here.
Besides the race calendar for next year, I am going to spend some effort dropping (less than last year, but still) some extra cushion around my midsection, which has slowly creeped on since the summer, somehow. This whole aging is not for sissies! You're doing absolutely the same thing, and yet the results are never the same - and not in a good way! So, this is a priority for the next 2 months. Would love to figure out my insomnia problem that plaques me for the last 10 years. Also, some issues I tend to have in races ever since I entered full menopause and returned to the scene after my OTS break. There are three-fold: #1 - I cramp like there is no tomorrow, it's never a matter of "if", it's only a matter of "when" and "how badly", and "will I be able to mitigate it, hopefully quickly". This sort of, I believe, drags into issue #2 - a lean. It only happened 4 times, but it's 4 times too many, and 2 of those were really bad, and cost me race time and race place. While the science is inconclusive at best (non-existent more like), it's something to do with electrolyte imbalance in the brain, and in my case follows especially prolonged cramping episodes (like, hours). And lastly, #3 - bloating when taking an electrolyte drink from the aid station. The AS's at every race, regardless what brand they use, mix it far more concentrated than I do in training runs. Too much salt causes water retention, therefore bloating (which leads to being super uncomfortable, carrying a 6-month pregnant belly, hurt, and not processing gels I take in well). I am sort of aware of this, always promise myself to dilute the drink (and forget in a rush), and work on it right away (well, at the next AS) flashing with pure water - what means passing gas or worse (pardon details, but maybe somebody will find it useful), yet eventually getting to normal size and feel.
All 3 issues, technically speaking, are interwoven. I ran all my thoughts by my best running buddy, a very awesome friend who's been racing even longer than I have, and is always deeply aware of what/when/how/why. Of course, I am talking about Ronda. I also dug into some research - science papers, running magazines. And it sums up things somewhere here.
After the menopause, with lower estrogen content in women's blood stream, we're more susceptible to electrolyte deficiencies. I (and Ronda) used to run hot 100M races on 5 salt pills total. Now I consume 300 mg of NaCl in Tailwind, plus every 3rd gel I take has some, plus I do carry salt pills, which I pop in the midst of an especially hot stretch of the day. In general, in my regular life, I avoid salting my food much if at all (of course there's some), and I only drink electrolyte mixes if I either do a hard workout, or a long run. Plus, I also don't drink nearly as much as suggested to even normal humans, yet along with athletes. I just didn't grow up carrying a water bottle (never owned one, besides, back in Russia, we don't have access to public bathrooms, so why drink and subject yourself to problems?). I have nearly an absence of the sense of thirst (not to say the same about hunger, I'm like, constantly, non-stop, 5-minute-after-any-size-meal feeling starved, and that's the real problem, unlike all the talk about Eating Disorders). Anyhow, my body doesn't have enough water and is borderline on electrolyte load daily, add to it training, and I am entering the race depleted from the get-go. I got around it while younger, but estrogen down regulation added a negative effect. As far as bloating - again, my stomach is not used to the high numbers of Sodium absorption, is not trained at anything above 300 mg/hour, and definitely not under high input power (a.k.s. HR/race effort). There's another part of this equation. Ronda was the first to point it out to me. I pretty much don't taper. I never was a fab. Even 1 week sends me fidgeting, I don't (didn't) believe in necessity of it, I would do a 50 mile race 2 weeks before a 100, or a 20 mile run a week before a 50k - and that's the norm I thrive on. Well... I was younger and stronger. Nowadays, even a deep tissue massage makes me weak-ish and not able to run strong the next day. I did manage 2 races this season without any cramping - Canyons and Rabbit. Both were cold, and rainy, the whole way. The reason I survive better in colder temps is because heat DOES magnify the whole thing of muscle exertion, coupled with dehydration - which of course in higher temps and at altitude is faster. Alongside with that, menopausal women are more prone to cramping during intense exercise due to lower estrogen levels, which can impair muscle function and increase muscle pain and weakness. Estrogen helps protect muscles from damage and inflammation, so when levels drop, muscles may become more susceptible to injury and soreness after strenuous activity. Plus, in hot weather, there's less blood flow available to "non-important body parts", a.k.a. not the brain or muscles that are involved in running (cue dehydration), and the stomach absorption, digestion and emptying slows down tremendously. Cramps in general have been proven less dependent on electrolyte imbalance alone, but more of a neuro-muscular connection that is not firing up correctly (otherwise known in short as "outrunning your training"). See link here. It actually has been known for quite a few years, and while I would never think of myself as "running harder than I am ready for" (which is why in colder climates I do just fine, my HR never goes high, and in those 25 years I know my body so well, I've always being able to self-regulate the effort/pace from the beginning), all the parts above, which are introduced due to that wonderful stretch of life we as female enter sometime after 40'ish (give or take) make it fit.
Whew, that was a long paragraph, and if you survived it, kudos to you! I'm mostly typing it to myself to remember. Because if I know thyself, come next year, I'll make the same mistakes! And I don't have many years to try and right the wrong things! So - I'm experimenting with 1 bottle of electrolyte drink a day as an extra (even if I used some for the exercise already), focusing on at least one more cup of water, and promising (to myself) to taper better - on more coherently accepted terms. I also had an interview with a Functional Medicine Practitioner, an owner of the gym I go to, who had taken up on my case pro-bono - because to her, I'm a fascinating case of an old-ish endurance athlete who's still doing pretty well-ish. I mean, I am damn proud of my body to keep cracking the race and not cracking under the pressure! Even if I totally screw up a lot of things while doing it.
I guess I shall end here, it's already a long post, though I have no idea when I will come back to the blog again. This urge was more likely benefiting from my lack of Strava and IG activity, and a lot of time to mule over things. I had a very successful year, no doubt - for a 55 year old, or anyone in general who's been in the sport for 26 seasons. Despite anxiety, I love this shit - the curiosity what I can do, the problems I'll face and have to solve, and the places that my training takes me. I hope I hang around for some unidentified longer stretch, but I'll take it one year at a time. Bring on 2026.
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