Mountain Masochist 2013 Race Report

Mountain Masochist 50 Miler

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Montebello, Virginia

The last few days of last week my legs hurt. I kept trying to brush it off as taper madness, but it felt like the veins in my calves and behind my knees were swollen, my legs felt like lead. Then last Thursday morning I awoke predawn in the middle of a nocturnal night cramp in my bad right calf. A nuisance I've grown accustomed to through pregnancy, this particular one caught me off guard. I walked it off and soaked in an Epsom bath, but it was tight all day on Thursday. I started to get a little nervous about it's potential effect on my performance at Masochist. There's a running joke that I am somewhat of a headcase when it comes to running races, especially ultras.  I prefer to think of myself as more of a work in progress. But on Friday morning when the calf was still tender and quite painful when rolled or touched directly, I started to get really sad.

Since officially turning my focus to Masochist I have been quite open about the fact that this race was important to me. Being my current goal race I spent what time I had left, about six weeks, training with it in mind. I wanted to better my time from last year's snowy course but at the same time I knew I'd had just about as good a day as one can expect when running 50 miles when I ran it last year. I'd had people suggest my time should be easy to beat after last year's snow, but I wasn't convinced. If I didn't have my doubts about besting my time before Friday, I was even more nervous walking around on tight and aching legs that I felt should have felt fresh and ready to run. Not like they'd already run 50 miles.

I did have one thing on my side, the fact that I'm not really in fact all that much of a headcase. I have my doubts, my worries and insecurities but unlike what Todd and Blake may joke of me, I can be pretty driven and fairly tough when I set my mind to something, when I have a goal. So I went forward with my goal of sub 9:30 for Masochist knowing that my head and my heart were in for Saturday's race. I figured that if the stomach got on board we would all just hang on hope that the legs would show up too.

Friday evening we celebrated Brodie's second birthday here at our house with pasta and cake and when Todd's mom took the children home with her afterwards, we headed over to the Liberty Conference Center for the race briefing. As much as I like a grueling fifty miles of running through the mountains, it's the gathering of trail runners that I love the most. I love seeing faces I have only met once, I love seeing our fellow Lynchburg trail runners, I love meeting new people. I know we all needed to get on with our evenings, gathering gear and pretending like we were going to sleep a wink, but I could have hung out there all night.

Not surprisingly, I tossed and turned for a good four or so hours before finally climbing out of bed for the day. I ate four slices of cinnamon sugar toast and a cup or so of coffee and made my lunch, a PB&J, to eat at Long Mountain. I stuffed my Mountain Hardwear vest with my food and pharmacy for the day; raisins, fig newtons, granola bars, m&ms, toilet paper, Tums, GU, Pepto, S Caps and Ibuprofen. Fairly weighted down we headed over to the Wingate to meet Kevin Correll, Kathie Colling and Blake Edmondson (who was crewing Todd, Kevin and I).

The time between arriving to carpool and starting the race flew by. I know Sam Dangc told me I didn't need those arm sleeves so I took them off and stuffed them too in the vest but other than avoiding those benches I couldn't think of anything other than just getting started.

I started off alongside Kathie, Todd, and Kevin but Kevin disappeared out of sight immediately. Not long after Brenton and Todd ran off down Pera Road and out of sight. I was starting easy, my legs needed the warm-up.

The first few miles were so crowded with hellos that the running was effortless. But once the crowd thinned out I realized how tight and unhappy my legs were already. To top it off my headlamp was dimming and I was having stomach pains. I took a moment to walk and being forty or so minutes into the race I took out my baggie of raisins to snack on. I opened up my Tums and ate a few of those as well. I thought about my legs, and that if they would just warm-up we could have a good day. Knowing fifty miles is a long day I decided to take it easy and see what happened. In the Peavine Mountain loop I lost sight of Kathie completely and nearly tripped myself several times, commenting to those around me that I was just waiting for my legs to show up for the run.

These words I really meant.

At the first aid station I caught back up with Kathie and Donna Utakis for a few minutes. We ran and hiked up Cashew Creek Road. However, on the way to Dancing Creek I saw the Iron Mountain Trail Runners, Rick, Kevin, Beth, and Laura up ahead and had my first good running section of the day trying to keep pace with them. I stopped only at Dancing Creek aid station long enough to swap bottles with Blake.

From Dancing Creek to the Parkway gate I started to feel a little better. My legs were no longer so tight but my stomach was still knotted with light cramps. I talked with Doug and then Tim through here. Those conversations were nice as they took my mind off of my stomach. Near the parkway gate I noticed I was running near and around Sophie and Megan and this made me feel even better, made me more hopeful that whatever funk I'd found myself in those first few miles was wearing off.

I swapped bottles again with Blake at the parkway gate aid station but otherwise ran through trying to keep Sophie in sight on that downhill to the creek crossing.  Coming out on the forest road that takes you (uphill) to Robinson Gap I saw Mike Donahue. Mike said Todd was just up ahead of me, still wearing his colorful shirt but suffering with stomach issues. On Friday evening Todd walked into a double dare that he had to wear that shirt all day at Masochist. I told him that should I come across him during the race I expected him to be wearing it. Knowing Todd may only be a little ways ahead and reaching my favorite hill of the entire day I ran on in hopes of catching a glimpse of Todd's bright shirt. I ran and walked the hill until I reached Bethany Weber. She was suffering from an allergic reaction on her hands but otherwise said she felt ok, she said Todd and Brenton were just ahead. I kept on running. Then I saw Peter Jetton, he too said Todd was just ahead. I ran on but when I came to a long uphill stretch and still didn't see Todd I started to think it was a ploy to get me to run the whole hill. Finally, I was walking a patch when from out on the steep side of the trail Todd comes climbing, bright Hawaiian shirt and all, back from a recent bathroom break.

We ran on to the aid station and Todd told me he'd been having stomach troubles for a few miles and had already visited the woods a number of times. He said other than the pit stops he was feeling pretty good. He asked if I had anything for stomach trouble and I gave him two Pepto Bismol capsules. We passed Mike Mitchell as we neared the aid station which was a pleasant surprise, he cheered us on, saying the aid station was just up ahead, as was Brenton. At the aid station I ran through without stopping at all. Todd stopped for something, maybe water, but I knew his powerful legs would catch me on the descent. I ran the downhill comfortably, probably too comfortably but I was just starting to feel good and didn't want to risk it. Not long after Todd caught and passed me like I was standing still. I lost sight of him on the downhill but I was glad he was having a better day.

The next section was flat and boring and I was in a rhythm but not really enjoying myself. There were two guys just ahead that I used to pace my walking breaks off of but other than that it was just long, somewhat rolling, somewhat hilly service road running. At Irish Creek aid station I saw Todd's bright shirt but he was gone from the aid station before I got there. I saw James Decker who should have been far ahead of me but was smiling and enjoying the aid station, seemingly in no hurry to leave. It reminded me of Todd. I stopped and grabbed watermelon and grapes and had my bottle filled as Decker and I talked about how I only had two iPods, what with Masochist being a 50 and all, three were not so necessary.

Leaving the aid station I saw Kristen Chang and felt that my day must be getting at least a little better to be up where she was running. I ate the watermelon but could only stomach one grape. On the next section of climbing I started to gain on Todd once more. It was more climbing and I tried to just keep his shirt in sight. I had almost caught up with him by the time we got to the aid station there at the Reservoir but we left together after swapping bottles with Blake. I had eaten two granola bars by this point and a few m&m's but I was starting to have trouble eating. I tried to talk to Todd as I ate a third granola bar. He chatted for a minute or so but he was pulling away with his hike. I didn't think about it or really realize it, so I asked him if Blake had mentioned where Kevin was when he yelled at me, "This is a race, I'm not going to slow down to talk to you." I immediately pulled further back. I felt bad, I would have run to catch up with him, I wasn't intending for him to slow down for me. But I was also hurt. I fell back several paces and turned my iPod back on. He looked back once to see if I was still there but continued to pull ahead.

At about this time I decided I would like to run a little bit. When I passed Todd I did so without comment, but he reminded me to take it easy, not race anybody. The next little bit I came upon a lot of different people, I would run a little ways and then hike until they pulled away to a certain tree or some other insignificant point and then run again. Or I would count. I was on the way to the hallway point, Long Mountain. I wasn't really feeling much like running so I was trying to make it a game. I saw Mike Mitchell again on the way by the pastures which happened to be a wonderful sight, both the friend spotting and the colors of the mountains all around.

I got to Long Mountain in 4:32, about 7 minutes slower than last year. I saw Blake, Opal and Madi. I exchanged water bottles with Blake and got my PB&J. My plan had been to get a gatorade as well but I forgot. Blake said Kevin was 8 minutes ahead, Brenton was a minute ahead and I was seventh female. Just after leaving the aid station I saw Phil Layman, Brenton and Jamie Swyers up ahead on the trail. I ate my sandwich and hiked behind them. By the time I had finished my lunch I only had to jog a quick jaunt to catch up with the Swyers. Brenton was a little sluggish at the moment but we talked about others we had seen and Jamie said that Alyssa Wildeboar was just ahead. In the store on Thursday at packet pick-up Alyssa had said she wasn't really trained up like usual for Masochist after running Run Rabbit Run 100 in September.

The stats Blake kept of us during the first two-thirds of the run.

Over the next half mile or so Phil, the Swyers and I had spread out. I was hoping I would have run more on the way to Buck Mountain but my legs were tight, especially in the quads and hip area. They just felt heavy and running was so not tempting I hiked nearly every step of the climb. I was very thankful for all the hiking practice I had over the past few weeks. I know a run would be faster but I felt like the hike was purposeful and efficient enough.

 At Buck Mountain it was nice to see Kevin Smith and his family. I refilled my bottle as the day had heated up considerably and I had not gone to the bathroom, I was beginning to worry I was dehydrated. Phil and I were at the aid station together and when Kevin Smith said that Kevin Correll was only a minute out I called to Phil that we were on a mission and headed out. Shortly thereafter we saw Blanks taking photographs and looking for Amy Albu.  It's mostly downhill from Buck to the next aid station at Wiggins Spring and we ran what we could. Phil pulled ahead once more and I kept a look out for Kevin. I never saw Kevin but it was through here that I first spotted Alyssa.

At Wiggins Spring I grabbed some pretzels but Blake suggested we exchange water bottles at the loop so I headed on. Phil and I were climbing along to the loop when Blake drove by a few minutes later, his window was down and he said that Kevin was only a minute or so behind us. I was confused, "Kevin, who?" Blake laughed at me like I was a fool, "Uh, Correll!" I hadn't seen Kevin, apparently he had stopped in the woods and Phil and I had passed by him on the way to Wiggins Spring aid station. Phil and I laughed that we'd been looking for him and had literally passed by him like he was hiding, we found it kind of funny.

Along the way to the loop I hiked most of the way, I just wasn't finding the energy to run short bursts. But I did see Alyssa again, when she looked back and said something I jogged a little ways to catch up with her. We ran to the aid station together at the loop. I asked her about their carpentry work and her running. I tried to conceal my excitement to be running with a running idol of mine. It was a pretty cool high of the day though. Running along the little side trail that takes you to the loop I was talking to Alyssa when I looked over to see Blake on the road below running along to the aid station carrying Kevin's pack and our Aid Station bag packed with our fuel and other gear. It was quite moving to see Blake hauling to get there before I did. Blake's a good friend and good crew.

At the aid station I swapped bottles with Blake and headed into the loop, Phil was just ahead going into the loop and Alyssa had stopped at the aid station. I ran the first mile or so well, then I added more and more walk breaks in and by the time we reached the out and back portion Phil and Alyssa were almost out of sight ahead of me. This section just does me in a little. It's about the most technical section of the whole race and I am just slow moving through it. Headed back from the summit from punching our bibs I crossed paths with probably thirty people just behind me on the way to the summit including the next seven females. Usually this would have pushed me more but my legs were just feeling so heavy. I ran more than last year on the second half of the loop but I still was in the loop for about 75 minutes.

When I got out of the loop I grabbed more Fig Newtons from Blake because they were currently the easiest thing to eat and swapped bottles with him one last time. I knew I had roughly a half marathon to run and I needed to run it in about 2:10 to hit my goal for the day. I ran as steady as I could until Salt Log Gap and caught back up with Phil. I had a good feeling at this point that Phil was going to hang on until the end and that I wouldn't be able to keep up with him on the final downhill road section. At Salt Log Gap I ran right through, I got out some Tums and a Fig Newton and ate them on the climb up. I tried to run some but hiking was how I spent the majority of that mile or so.

The Fig Newton was something I tried new that day after a kind stranger offered me one at Iron Mountain. Since I've been having more and more trouble with my stomach at races this year I decided after the summer races that I needed to change what I was eating before and during long runs. I read some helpful suggestions and have been training with granola bars and raisins on most of my long runs, trying to consume about 100 calories an hour for runs over four hours. During Saturday's race I ended up eating raisins, granola bars (3), Fig Newtons (1.5 of the snack packs), a PB&J, two small sections of Watermelon, a few m&ms and a few pretzels. My stomach, other than unrelated cramping at the beginning of the day felt really good. I did not eat a single GU or drink any soda as it turned out. I only struggled once with convincing my stomach to eat and it was just during a slightly faster section where eating real food was just a little more trying. I am not sure the no-GU route would work for the 50k distances, especially the likes of Holiday Lake, but I was very happy with my overall fueling for the day. It was perhaps my best success of the day. That and trying to move very efficiently through aid stations.

At Forest Valley I refilled my bottle and joked with Tony Martin that the next section was really seven miles long. He assured me it was just over four. Last year in the snow it felt like more. This year with no snow it felt like more. At first there's climbing and I was hiking but even the flatter and downhill portions seem to go on forever. It's one of the only single track trail sections of the entire race, I hate to complain about it, but it's just so seemingly endless! I came upon Johnny Robinson and he told me to go on but I didn't really have any more energy than he did. John, Phil and I just ran on in silence as though we were taking turns pulling each other along for what seemed like miles. At 45 miles into the race I finally pulled over to go the bathroom for my one and only time of the entire day, it was darker than is probably best, but it wasn't anything darker than I've had on training runs so I wasn't too worried. But then not long after I started having that sensation that my legs were going to cramp up on me. Just this tight, tingling but not cramping feeling. I drank all that was left in my water bottle and made sure that I filled up again when we got to Porters Ridge.

Johnny, Phil and I all got to Porters Ridge at the same time basically but I thought Phil hadn't stopped. I filled up my bottle and said hello to Jordan who was waiting for Kristen and headed on. As I headed out Johnny wished me well on chasing down my PR which I thought was sweet. A minute or so later Phil came up and passed by me. I didn't realize that he was behind me. With a little over two miles to go we saw Mike and Blake headed up the road we were coming down, headed out to run either Kevin or Todd in.  I tried to hang onto Phil's coattails but my legs were starting to worry me with light cramping. I knew I could run slower and smarter and still hit 9:30 so I steadied my pace and watched him pull away. I had a suspicion earlier in the day, running along to Salt Log Gap that he would beat me at the end so it was no surprise when he pulled out of sight.

What was surprising was when Megan Stegemiller came upon me so fast you would have thought I wasn't moving! She breezed in, told me not to worry that the next girl behind me probably wouldn't catch me, and pressed further on. It was actually awesome to witness. She had been in eleventh place (for females) when I'd seen her in the loop and here she was just flying by to take a top ten position, and a strong one at that. It was the kind of thing I would love to do but usually can't. I would have loved to have even hung in sight of her but she was moving so fast it wasn't a half mile before I couldn't even see her ahead of me anymore. I will admit that it did slightly take the wind out of my sails, but in an inspiring, darn-I-am-going-to-get-creamed-at-Hellgate sort of way.

I did however, pull out a personal best for the course. I finished in 9:24:17, over 12 minutes faster than last year. And I ran at least 7 minutes slower on the first half of the course, so I do indeed believe I had a stronger second half than last year. I managed to place seventh female again this year and won the Mountain Woman Award for top local woman who ran it. Overall, for having a very worried start I am very happy with the overall day. My legs definitely were more tired than I would have liked and I feel like I hiked a lot more during the day than I did last year but that also gives me continued hope that I have a faster time yet still to run on that course.

Standing around in Montebello watching dozens of other runners finish was another high of the day. I was happy to be able to see Todd and Kevin finish, just a minute apart, both with good times having not had a great day. Talking with other finishers, eating cheese quesadillas, Mike's surprise Coke, the stories from others about their day, it's those pieces that I treasure most out of the day. When the day was over and we got back into our cars after the award ceremony I was honestly a little depressed that Masochist was over, as far as running goes, it's a really tough weekend, but it's also a really enjoyable weekend that is over far too quickly.

-Alexis

Send Me On My Way

As I begin to switch from peak training mode this week to taper mode I will turn my focus from the running aspect of big events to the mental aspect involved. I tend to think that, for me at least, racing is nearly equally split between physical ability, ability to eat and mental strength. A deficit of any of these can spell doom.

One of the things I have used in the past and will continue to apply is having a mantra, a motivating chant to push me along during particularly tough spots, to get me over the wall or low points in a long run. At Western States it was "Relax, eat, drink, be patient." The relax and be patient came from Dr. Horton's parting words for me as I began that longest run to date for me, the eat and drink being somewhat obvious but the reminder still necessary. I repeated this to myself for at least the first fifteen hours fifteen hundred times.

Last year I made a list for Masochist, the list included reminders and advice, quotes and memories. I carried the list in my pocket the entire race, I had planned to pull it out when I hit the wall (which was placed strategically on the climb up from Salt Log Gap) but I never needed it, I believe it was making the list that resulted in not really needing the list. I plan on compiling a similar list for this years run. I believe it will help send me on my way!

Do you have a mantra or something you do/use as a mental trick or pick me up during long runs or racing events to help get you up and over your wall?   If so, please share.

-Alexis

Such Great Heights...No Not Really

This week saw several firsts for me.

It was not a first however, when I pushed it on Wednesday evening's run when Kathie said "GO". It was not a first that I fretted and lost a sizable amount of sleep over an illness of Sean's. It was not a first that I couldn't tell myself to just say no, so I did more than was wise, pushed boundaries more than necessary.

I am, afterall, me.

Today, is Monday, it is my first day off of running in ten days. Please, please do not ask me to run today. As aforementioned I can not, probably would not, say no. I admitted to Todd yesterday that I am a tad bit overly obsessed at the moment (meaning a step up from my normal levels of obsession), I knew today's forced rest would mentally do me in. It's how I found myself on the blogger dashboard so bright and early this morning.

You see that is one of the firsts. I have never, in my four years of running, run more than six days in a row. But last week was a packed social week and seeing as most of my socializing is now spent running I couldn't really cancel. Ok, yes I could have, but it was that I rather didn't want to I suppose. But I knew the risks associated with such recklessness, I spent the week running easy with only minor exceptions (I can't say no to Kathie's taunts because I secretly love it when she taunts me to push it on a run with her). But prone to injury I spent most of my runs talking yet tuned into listening to my body. This is acceptable but consider yourself warned it seemed to whisper. I did my best to listen. I had most of my runs planned out the week ahead so I knew early in the week to reel it in, take it easy or pay the price.

Friday, my usual rest day, was spent on an adventure with Horton's running class. I have a small list of desired runs to get in before MMTR in two weeks. It's been on my fridge now for weeks. It says 'Tobacco Row x2'. Most of the list is still unscratched. On Friday I was thinking of skipping the run when Todd pointed out how little of the to do list had been accomplished heading into my taper, aimed to begin Sunday. I grabbed my headlamp and hit the road. I am glad that I joined to group. Horton encouraged us to use the full moon and not our headlamps on the run. I found myself running the majority of the way up alone, in the dark, a first of sorts for me. Darkness and running alone are usually two of my largest looming fears, but on Friday I found it freeing, refreshing. I rather enjoyed myself. And at least now the list is down to 'Tobacco Row x1'.

I did push a little harder than planned on the uphill of the Tobacco Row run, which was nearly five miles uphill in one direction, but if there's anything I aspire to be at the moment it's the uphill runner I was a year ago. Going into Masochist this year I know I'm not in as good of shape as last year and that is mostly because my uphill running is not where it was then, mostly due to my fretful calf. Coming down however, I reeled it back in, better to be properly frightened when Horton jumped out in the dark scaring Jamie and I.

Saturday Todd and I missed the Deep Hollow Half, the first time both of us have missed this run since we began running. Sadly it was scheduled for the same day as the Stephenson Youth Run our kids do every year. One of the races had to be bumped from our schedule. That evening, to get our running fix in, we headed to Explore Park near Roanoke for a four mile night run we had registered for weeks ago.

I will possibly have more to say about this event later, but basically, it was going to be a fun run for me, seeing as I knew I was on my eighth day of running. But a mile or so in, on the first uphill, I found that I actually wanted to run a little harder than planned. This deciding halfway into a race that I actually want to race only to be let down with the outcome, unfortunately NOT a first. We still managed to have a good evening despite my reactive bad temper for being who I am.

Going into Sunday we were going to do our last long run (over 20 miles) for MMTR. However, Todd has an itchy rash he believes to be a case of Poison Ivy, and wasn't really up for the idea of hours of running on his painfully distracting itchy feet. We notified Jeremy that we weren't going to be able to make it. He was nice about it, tried to tell me to just come along alone but I knew I was looking at too many days running and would be far too slow for him, I knew I needed to make it through the day and into my taper as healthy as possible so I was frightened that going with him would mean me pushing the pace and skirting the lines of an injury. Jeremy, being a rather nice guy, decided to come to Candler's with us instead. His changing his plans to run with us, that may be a first? ;) Not sure about that one. We had a good run of about two hours on Candlers with Jeremy, Micah and Phil.

By the end of Sunday's much shorter than twenty miles run, I was so thankful to officially begin my taper period for Masochist (don't ask me what I'm doing for a taper, I have no IDEA what I am doing, I just know that is has officially started) that the slight tightness everywhere was haunting me and my decision, now too late to change, of running so many days straight. I know there are people with much more impressive running streaks, but even nine days seemed to wear me down further than I'd anticipated. One thing is evident; much like running fast, running streaks are not for me. I found that my mileage was much less than I would have thought because I was being careful not to overtax the already taxed legs. I ran no more mileage than the six day week before but without rest. I suppose I'm glad I tried it, to see for myself that more days doesn't equate, at least for me, to more mileage. And no rest, even if easy, still means no rest, and that is not a good idea for this girl or her legs. And it definitely didn't help with running intensity. I am still figuring out who I am and it is definitely not a streaker. I prefer fewer days with more mileage. I understand this approach isn't for everyone,  but I just prefer it. I find my body thanks me and plays better by it. In addition, my plantar fasciitis, which had gotten surprisingly better after Western States, is back with a vengeance. I have even been wearing the 'boot' to bed the last few evenings.

I am hoping I played it safe enough to come out the other end virtually unscathed, but I am sore today in places I would really rather not be sore. Namely, my calves, the part of my body keeping me on my toes this year. I have no intentions of running more than about five days in a given week in the near future. I quite believe that five days are really about the maximum my legs can take and remain healthy. I only even considered this short streak because I knew my body had a base and that the mileage over the planned period was no more than the previous week. Despite the miles being similar though, the legs are still quite a bit more fatigued.

Masochist is my goal race at the moment. Since the Odyssey Trail Running Rampage 40 in September I have been slowing peaking with this last week's goal of aiming for fatigue. Hopefully, the plan will not backfire and result in injury, I am thinking more rest and recovery this week will play the biggest role in this plans overall success.

I will go ahead now and admit, for the sake of reflection later, that Masochist is important to me to a fault. Despite not feeling in as good a condition as last year, I am hoping to pull off a good day in two weeks. How exactly I am going to carry this out is still up in the air. Hoping that the fact that I am aiming at Masochist will mean something for the day. When I focus I can usually perform better. That and getting my stomach to cooperate are the biggest factors going into that big scary race two weeks from now.

I really am trying, though it may be hard to prove after this revealing post, to be smarter. At the same time I have to test the waters occasionally to see what in fact works for me.  After this week I can say that running more (at least as far as days per week) does not, at least at the moment, seem like a good idea for me.

-Alexis

On the Long Run

For this past Sunday's long run I was looking for a runnable twenty-something miles. A varied group of us met along an overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway to follow through with a run I had imagined would fit the bill, running from the Parkway Aid Station on the Masochist course to Long Mountain Wayside and then back on the Appalachian Trail to the Punch Bowl Overlook and back on the pavement of the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The first nearly twelve miles was a mix of long uphills and downhills along a gravel road, a part of the Masochist course I have only seen when I ran the race last November. Jeremy and Todd gave me a little involuntary push when they pulled ahead on the uphills, and I ran determined if not solid for that first section holding on to those lead boys as well as I could. 

The next section of the run was on the AT, some of the most rolling, smooth trail I've ever encountered on the AT. My experience with the AT had led me to believe it was all rocky and technical. The first half of the sections we ran Sunday afternoon was more like that of the trail that wraps around the lake at Holiday Lake than previous sections I've run. Despite a little fatigue settling into the legs we ran the first seven or so miles soaking in the beautiful fall foliage backlit by the reservoir only stopping for brief hikes uphill.

However, at roughly 18 or so miles into the run, we crossed a suspension bridge and began some climbing. At first I hiked when the group that was now clustered together hiked and ran when they ran. But a half mile or so into that, I checked out. I started walking, got out my iPod and pulled back from the group. The climb, skirting a drop-off looking down into a dense thicket of tall trees carried me away to Western States, the early morning hours of my second day there to be more precise. It was in those early hours that I feared failing the most. The fear that day was heavy and weighed my legs down with every step. This memory led the way to a much brighter, lighter truthfulness and for some reason I thought about how, on a twenty something mile long run, you always finish. Especially after the experiences I gained this summer between Western States and Iron Mountain there was a unique but substantial comfort in this realization. I knew the run may not be fast but I had this overwhelming sense that it would be completed, and that sometimes, that really is enough. This hike and the subsequent understanding that the run, no matter how fatiguing or grueling, would end seemed to wipe some of the lethargy from my legs. Soon I came upon the Swyers holding up for my return to the run and I was brought back to the present. 

The final miles saw a return of focus and I was able to run some of the final miles with renewed purpose if not some speed (it didn't hurt that I found myself having to run alone through the Bluff Mountain Tunnel). Jeremy asked me later if I felt like I am getting stronger. The answer is a most convoluted yes. I ran to the point of fatigue on the first half of the run, something I usually fear and avoid. Upon that fatigue I kept on moving as well as I could. But when the heaviness in my legs finally won over my mind and the threat of a shutdown occurred I was able to wade through, not instantaneously but in a way that I was able to overcome the soreness settling in and run hard to finish out the run. In my troubled mind, that is success, that is a sign of the type of strength that I need, that I desire.

I am feeling more ready for my upcoming races, but have also decided that feeling ready, much like feeling in shape, is something you look back on in retrospect or aim for, but rarely feel in the moment.

-Alexis

All I Wanna Do Is Rock: The Ipod Series

I was brought up with music constantly playing in the background. My parents met in a music store, I was raised being told about the Flock of Seagulls concert I attended in the womb. My mother, a strange and untamable creature, would awake my sister and I in the middle of the night to play us "tunes". I have often said that my parents gave me two everlasting things, siblings to go through life with and an undying love for music.

I go to sleep at night with music playing, I awake to music, I am always listening to music, coming through speakers or playing in my head so listening to music when I run is just who I am.

Lately however, when I am listening to my iPod on runs I've found myself a little bored and thus have been on the hunt for new music to add to my playlists for upcoming long runs in the mountains.

It was in this manner that I stumbled upon The Vaccines a few weeks ago, an "infectious London-based indie rock outfit" that I haven't been able to get enough of since accidentally stumbling across them on YouTube. 

I have fought the urge countless times to share one of their videos when I finally decided that I neede to help spread their sound, whether I reached anyone's ears or not, I could at least attempt it.

So without further ado, a sampling of The Vaccines "If You Wanna", "Wetsuit" and "Norgaard"

-Alexis

Will > Skill

Last night I was lying in bed, unable to sleep, drifting not into slumber but from one social media website to another pinboard style website and back, when I stumbled across the following quote.

 I am sometimes asked about my training, to which I am often floundering around for an answer. I am pretty confident I don't train the hardest or the smartest. I struggle between the feeling that I'm overtraining or not training enough. I have come to the realization actually over the course of the past year that my brain, not my legs, have just as much if not more control in whether or not there is any success in an event than the number of miles in a training period or the pace kept during said miles. It's not that I don't think I must train. I just believe, for me at least, there's more to the equation. I haven't been certain if that other part of the equation was stubbornness or heart, a little of both maybe, but when I stumbled across these words by Muhammad Ali last night, they spoke to me in a way that I found myself replying, 'yes, that's it, will'.

So there you have it, the answer was just that simple. I had even heard it before. "If there's a will, there's a way."

-Alexis

Grindstone 2013

The race that almost happened!

It took me the better part of this year to get ready for this race.  It looks like it may take a little while longer to get used to the fact that we're not running it.  This is the story of an average runner who set his mind to run an epic distance, only to have the opportunity stolen away at the last minute.  Be forewarned, this post is mostly bitter and whiny and I don't care.  

I decided last year after MMTR in November, along about the same time that Alexis decided to run Hellgate and Western States, that I would attempt to run the Beast Series this year.  Mountain Masochist being my first 50 miler, that meant that I would be attempting two new race distances, the 100K and the 100 miler.  Of course, not in the logical order of shortest to longest, that would be too easy.

So I started off the year running all of the 50Ks in the series, Holiday Lake, Terrapin Mountain, and Promise Land.  Not that I hate any of these races, but doing them all in three months isn't ideal for training purposes.  I managed to maintain a sense of peace throughout these races, knowing that if I could finish Grindstone and Hellgate, and in doing so the Beast Series, that I wouldn't have to ever run ALL three of them again in the same calendar year.  

And that satisfied feeling brought me into May and the beginning of my Grindstone training.  

In the early part of the summer I ran a lot of easy miles.  This was the 'base' building part of training that I have heard smarter and more accomplished runners talk so much about.  This wasn't too hard, coming off of a spring full of 50Ks.  This portion of my training was punctuated by me pacing Alexis at Western States.  That whole story is here, and here.  But I must say that what I learned at WS, just being there and seeing the runners, helped me enormously in preparing mentally for the 100 mile distance.

When we got back from California, I set myself to mountain running, heading into the wilderness whenever I could get the time.  I became better friends with the AT this summer, often running back to back long runs in the same weekend.  I was managing to get more and more miles every week, and was able to maintain this level of effort and distance without too much pain and suffering.

I guess I peaked my training out at the end of August and early September when I ran half the Grindstone course one weekend, then Iron Mountain 50 miler two weeks later, the Odyssey Train Rampage 40 miler the week after.  After that I still did a couple of back to back mountain long runs, ending with a Priest and Three Ridges run where I felt great.  And the I started to taper.

I had managed to run harder and farther than I ever had before without getting injured or burnt out.  I had my crew and a solid race nutrition plan all lined up.  Pacers ready. Drop bags packed.  I was at the Aid Station making a last minute purchase on the Tuesday before the race, when in walked Clark Zealand RD, and he hit me over the head with a baseball bat.

Well, not really, but he might as well have.  

And so, I spent an extra week "tapering" and trying not to go completely crazy.  And now I am floundering and unmotivated, and unsure about how much or how hard I really want to run.  It takes a lot of time and energy to prepare for a big race, and even though it is over in a day (or as close to one day as possible), you get to take away a sense of accomplishment that lasts forever.  Or at least helps to motivate you for your next run. 

But not this time.  This time I am left feeling empty and cheated.  I feel like I have wasted a good part of my summer, and neglected other aspects of my life.  I feel like it is time to reevaluate.

-Todd

Bumps in the Road

I've had a few good runs now in a row, so now more than PR's and training schedules, getting injured is on my mind. I'm convinced it's about to happen and I want to prevent it.

I spent a third of this year with varying degrees of a calf strain that largely affected my spring training and still occasionally tingles or tightens just to reel me in. I'm preoccupied more than ever on not overtraining, on pushing hard but not too hard. I'm fixated between training well and making it healthy to my goal race.

Then this morning I woke to a text from my sister, my smart and methodically training sister, a picture of her obviously swollen ankle and a plea for a call. Usually a picture doesn't show subtle differences, I could tell from the picture that this did not look good. A quick phone call revealed that a wrong step on pavement and concrete resulted in a sprain or twist that has sent my sister, who has trained all year long for her upcoming marathon debut, to the brink.

An injury does that to runners. After my not so fun time at Iron Mountain a few weeks back the only uplifting thought that remained through the fifty miles was 'at least it's not an injury, you'll be fine as soon as you're done today'.

I understand injury. There are statistics that would scare any runner not just your competitive types that an average runner will experience an injury of some degree once a year, some articles report more. The internet is full of articles for runners to pour over about injury prevention and treating a slew of injuries.

If injury wasn't on my mind before it certainly is now that my sister looks to be forced into a few days off. And if there's anything I can empathize for it is the fear of the unknown that an injury brings along with its physical discomfort.  Do I need to take a few days off? How many days off? Will my fitness suffer? If racing, how will this affect my performance? I understand as well as anyone that a forced day or two or ten of rest, especially compounded when your race is quickly approaching, is difficult to stomach.  Fortunately, my sister is smarter and more patient than I am, I trust she'll do the right thing and rest it. She does have time to recover if it's a sprain to not affect her marathon in November, but that sometimes isn't enough to quell all of the fear.

I find running does so much for my mental state that the time off coupled with the thoughts that accompany injury is enough to unhinge me. I imagine at least some other runners feel the same. As others before me pointed out to me when I was injured but can be often forgotten when we're the ones resting on the couch, sometimes you need a break, you're still a runner, trust your training and allow your body to heal (and I will need reminding of that I'm sure if I get injured, it's the first thing that I forget when I get injured).

Truth is there are bumps in the road, sometimes we meet those bumps and we stumble and fall. You are a runner after all.

You ran in the rain, Runner, and you will again. You ran before the sun awoke and you will again. You ran harder to push yourself and you will again. You ran in the hottest weather all summer and you will again. You ran further than you had ever run and you will run further still. You felt the rush of a second wind and you will again. You ran to meet new people and you have friends still to make. You ran in the dark with a light to lead the way and you will again. You suffered through a hard run or two where you questioned what you were doing and yet you ran again. You hit the trails for a change of scenery and there are paths still ahead. You surprised yourself and you're not through yet. You made a training schedule and you stuck to it, you will change it and get back with it. You slowed down to recover and you will again. You ran and you will again.

-Alexis

You Are (at least part of) My Sunshine

Every Wednesday we head over to the Snoflex parking lot around 5 pm. It is one of the highlights of my week, especially as far as running is concerned.

On Wednesdays I know the usuals will be there and generally a surprise guest or two. I never ever dread this run, I am always anxiously awaiting Todd's arrival so we can hit the road. Pulling into the parking lot is like opening a gift, I'm always excited to see who shows up to run with us. I've heard mention once or twice that Wednesday's run has a reputation to be fast, and while it is an important run in my weekly training I also want it to be welcoming.

From six miles to twelve or more the group always starts together even if we break into smaller groups later on. The pace varies on who shows up or who raced the weekend prior or following the run, but it's always a good time for me as I hope it is for all those who attend.

It's been suggested to me that I'm obsessed with running. You've caught me, so I am. It's not the only thing I love and designate my time to, I love my family and my children, I'm focused on their education and their upbringing even if they appear to be wild animals in your presence (I apologize, we are all a work in progress!) I'm obsessed with music and this ridiculous stuff I tell my children is dancing when they catch me in the kitchen. I may even be a tad bit obsessed with that Candy Crush saga game (but you will never see me post that on social media).

I'm rambling and I know it. Point is, I'm okay with my commitment and preoccupation with running. I own it now. I have come to terms with it's hold on me and to be honest I've quite possibly never been healthier or happier, though it may not always appear so. Occasionally though, when I'm running, I lose my direction, I forget which trail I'm on or where I'm headed. Lately, this applies to the bigger picture. But not today. Not right now.

I focused on enjoying my run this past Saturday, and I had a good day. And now, once more, I'm in love with everyone.

Tonight was one of the best runs I've had all year. It wasn't particularly special in any way that I can exactly pinpoint either. We started together after dawdling for far too long in the parking lot. We hung together a ways but split off into separate groups a time or two. It was hot, I was sweaty. But I felt good, healthy, I felt strong, capable. And I just loved every damn minute of it.

There's no way to convey what the group does for me other than to say, quite simply, you light up my life. You make me push harder. You make me slow down. You make me reflect. You make me look forward. You make me laugh. You make me second guess. You make me calm down. You make me feel good. You make me proud to be a runner. You make me happy to be one of the group.

And I just want to thank you for it.

So thanks.

And I'll see you next week.

-Alexis

Odyssey Trail Running Rampage Race Report

Odyssey Trail Running Rampage 40 Miler

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Douthat State Park

Saturday Todd and I went to Douthat to run the ultra marathon that is part of the Trail Running Rampage that is held each year by Odyssey Adventure Racing in Douthat State Park. It was Todd's first ultra in 2010 and he's gone back every year. The trail rampage 40 miler consists of three loops primarily on trail with no more than about four miles of pavement the entire race.

We planned on this race despite how close it was in proximity to Iron Mountain because Todd is training for Grindstone and I had a comped entry from last year. But then Iron Mountain came and with it my most disappointing and difficult ultra to date. The trail rampage switched from just being another run to being a redemption run for me. Despite the best intentions of friends who suggested I was crazy and maybe a bit dumb to run back to back ultra races I was hellbent on a good day, a good run.

I didn't stress the rampage and feeling good after Iron Mountain I ran Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday but not further than about 3 miles each day. That change alone felt good, it's been so long since I'd enjoyed just a good short jaunt with friends. On Friday evening we hung out with Joe and Emily and went to Rivermont Pizza, we talked about music and movies. I allowed no self-imposed pressure on myself for Saturday's race. I had but one goal, have a good day, a good run.

We awoke at 3:30 on Saturday and drove to Douthat. I ate two pieces of cinnamon toast, a few powdered donuts and half a PB&J on the way. We arrived in Douthat at 6 a.m. We checked in and like the year before the next hour flew by between race briefings and gathering gear. 

I decided on a few more small goals. 1.) Have a good day 2.) Run steady, aiming for 2:30 loops and 3.) Start the third loop not absolutely dreading the idea of running a third loop.

We started at 7 and I fell in with Brian Keefer. We ran a short ways before switching to hiking. If running the year before had taught me nothing else it was to respect that first climb. Todd wasn't far ahead and he slowed when he looked back and saw us. The three of us hiked and jogged the first climb, about 3 miles, together. 

On Thursday, Jeremy was giving me somewhat of a hard time when he asked me quite seriously if I even liked running. Of course I liked running I'd answered without hesitation. No one moves for 50 miles through mountains without a little bit of love for what they do. However, the thought still took up residence because it begged the question, am I still in love with running like I used to be. Do I appreciate the measure, soak in the beauty and the privilege that is trail running? To this effect I honed in on the beauty of the trail on Saturday morning, the sunshine bleeding through the trails landing on the rocks. I noticed for the first time the waterfall from which the Blue Suck Falls likely gets its name. Despite the burning in my calves and the warming temperatures I felt a sense of strength that moves me forward, a rippling effect growing stronger as we moved up that first climb. I answered the question once more, to myself, more fervently, of course I love this.

I was going to have a good day.

Todd, Brian and I arrived together at the first aid station where I topped my bottle off. From there the trail descends for a couple of miles. It's slightly steep and a tad technical lined with a few sharp switchbacks. I decided to take it easy and let Todd pass by admitting that the goal was a good day. Relax and enjoy this I reminded myself. I ran about three miles and had to stop for the first bathroom break and Brian ran on by. However, I caught back up with Brian at the next aid station, mile 9 in the loop.

Coming into this aid station I felt a bit of stomach trouble which I felt was coming from the straps of my hydration vest bouncing repeatedly on my mid-section. Coming into the aid station I asked if anyone had scissors. One volunteer had a knife and he cut the straps from my vest. He looked nervous but I was so thankful. It was also at this point, having eaten three GU so far that I kind of swore them off. Each one was making my stomach hurt for about five minutes after. I knew I would need to switch to different fuel.  

I was first female at this point but assumed Sophie to be close behind and in fact kept expecting her to pass me at any moment. The next section from mile 9 to 11 is rolling and there is a good hiker to eat on. I hiked taking note of the climb in planning for steady loops. However, coming into the mile 11 aid station I realized I was ahead of my 2:30 goal for the loop. Just beyond the aid station, I took to walking on a very flat trail knowing there was a hill ahead. Almost immediately Sophie Speidel ran by.

I said hello and she said "Who's that?" I told her it was me, Alexis, and she asked if I'd raced last weekend. I told her I had but hadn't fared well and that being registered for this I'd come out anyways for a good run. She told me to take it easy and ran off up the hill we'd finally arrived at. I kept walking up the hill but I could still see her. Without a word I picked it up. 

Brain Keefer and I finished the first loop right behind Sophie with me berating myself just a tad for running 2:24 when I was aiming for 2:30. I wasn't running Sophie's race, I had to remember I was running my own race with my own goals. I look up to Sophie, I also look Sophie up on UltraSignup when I'm registered for a race she's run. She's a strong trail runner who inspires me. I conceded defeat to an inspiration and settled back into my own race. 

My right foot was a little sore from where my Hokas split open last weekend at Iron Mountain, I thought about running to the car for my Bajadas but I decided the Hokas haven't really let me down yet so I stuck with them. I grabbed half a PB&J and a slice of watermelon I'd cut the night before. I refilled my water bottle and grabbed an extra 20 oz for the climb back up Blue Suck Falls. 

Brian was still there and I called for him to come with me as I left the transition area. I didn't see Sophie, I didn't know if she was far ahead or not. But I settled back into my goals, a good steady run of 40 miles. I reminded myself that I wanted to feel good going into lap three. I ate and drank on the second climb and it was slower but not by much compared to the first lap. 

As we climbed I apologized to Keefer. I admitted that I'd dropped the pace when Sophie passed me because I am competitive. I told him that I couldn't promise him I wouldn't do it again if someone else passed us. It's a fault I own. 

We met Brian Kelleher on this climb, we'd seen him off and on in the first loop. He's from Richmond and knows my buddy John Casilly. He talked and the time passed quickly. He flew by us on the downhill after the aid station at the shelter. I stopped again for a bathroom break and Keefer ran on. I didn't see him again until the aid station at mile 9 (mile 22+) in the second loop. He told me first place female was only a few minutes ahead. I grabbed a few cookies and more gummy bears and held onto them until I got to the climb a half mile up ahead on trail.

All day I'd been hoping to enjoy myself and not start loop three dreading going back out. We ran the rest of the second loop steady and came back into the transition area at 4:56. I wasn't dreading the last lap, so far, success. I saw Sophie on the way into her third lap, she looked strong, I didn't think I stood a chance of seeing her again.

I ran to the bathroom in the transition area and then over to my drop bag, I took off my vest and crammed what I could in my water bottle. I got another half a PB&J and slice of watermelon. I stuffed a granola bar in my bra and ice from our cooler in my water bottle. I grabbed my extra 20 oz and was headed out when I realized I didn't have salt tabs. I thought I didn't need them and the clock already read 5:02 but I went back for them anyways, nervous runner that I am.

I took to walking right away, even in the flatter spots where I'd just a few minutes before seen Sophie running. Keefer told me he thought we could run 2:45 or 3 hours for this loop, we would definitely hit 8 hours. He seemed happy about this, I won't lie, I was not. I continued to walk but was quiet, I ate but I was in a low of sorts. But I know now I'm getting stronger because of what happened next.

I realized I'd run out of goals. I was having a good day, I was enjoying my run, I had entered the last lap ready to run it but I was now, at least to a certain end, out of goals. I decided I wouldn't win but I did not want to run 8 hours. I might not PR but I could decrease the time between Sophie if I stopped any defeatist talk and actually enjoyed the day I was having. I decided to eat on the climb. So I ate every bit of real food I had grabbed at the aid station. I decided I would hike to the aid station at the top but then I was going to give all of what was left and let the chips fall where they may.

I felt bad at the aid station at the shelter because Keefer stopped for water and I left on a mission without word of farewell. I'm sorry for this Keefer but I had to finish out the good day I was having. And so I turned on my iPod and I ran.

And it was like a gift to myself. I pushed the descent for the first time that day and it felt great like it did at Petits Gap a few weeks back. I vowed not to look at my watch for the rest of the run but just feel the pace running whatever my body would allow.  And it felt absolutely awesome, it felt like the first time in months like I was racing during an actual race. I basked in every step, I loved every mile. I didn't think I'd see Sophie again but I ran as well as I could anyways remembering the quote "Give all of yourself regardless of outcome."

Then at about mile 8 in the third loop I came upon Sophie. It surprised me and probably gave me a little more push. It was getting hotter and it was getting harder to maintain my pace but I kept on giving it my best effort. The food I'd eaten on the climb up the falls was wearing off and I could feel I was beginning to bonk a little. At the AS at mile 9 in the loop I grabbed a few more cookies and gummy bears. I saw Kim who said a quick hello but I was focused on getting to the end. 

This is one great thing about a loop, you are so familiar on your final loop that you know what to expect and can plan accordingly. Though we have only ever seen this loop when we've run the race the loop seems etched in my mind. I pushed onward walking as little as possible.

Coming into the area around the lake I knew I was so close but it was so hot as you're exposed to the sun more through here. I walked a little more and looked for a good song on my iPod to carry me through. When I finally reached the bridge that is basically the end I looked at my watch for the first time since the transition area and it said 7:30. This was pleasing but instantly I thought I might have run more of the lake trail section had I know I was that close to hitting 7:30. As it was I crossed the finish in 7:32 with Charlie, Dennis, Joe and Todd all standing there and Ronny giving hi-fives. 

I was very happy with my day and my effort. I kept steady as I could and ran a 10 minute PR for the course. I had a great time as always with friends and made a few new ones. I was excited to see so many Lynchburg Trail Runners come out and run the race which also holds a marathon, half and 5 miler event. Charlie Peele won the ultra and seven of the top 14 spots were filled by Lynchburg Trail runners in the ultra event which I think is awesome even if it was a small event. It's a great course, challenging but beautiful. I doubt I will do Iron Mountain and the Trail Rampage back to back next year and it will be hard which one to do as they both have a different set of wonderful things to offer. 

In the end, I had a good day. I needed that. 

-Alexis

For my own record I enjoyed seeing the splits for the past two years over the three loops:

2012:
2:14, 2:36, 2:51  Overall 7:42

2013:
2:24, 2:32, 2:35 Overall 7:32

Iron Mountain 50 Miles

Last Saturday I ran the Iron Mountain 50 miler in Damascus.  This was my second 50 miler,   having completed MMTR last fall in the snow on a busted up ankle.  At  Masochist I did not hit my goals, but considering the conditions I didn't care too much.  Sometimes close enough is close enough.

Going into Iron Mountain I set no real goals, mainly for two reasons.  Firstly, it was a training race and not a target race.  Remember that Grindstone is the goal right now.  Secondly, I honestly didn't know what kind of shape I'm in right now.  Most of my running has been focused on long, long, slow, and long.

But people kept asking me for a goal time, so I finally defaulted back to my MMTR goal of 10 hours.  I kept hearing that the two races ran very close times.  I was also careful to add that even though 10 hours would be nice, it was just a training run after all, and I had no intentions to push it.

I had decided weeks ago that I was going to implement my Grindstone strategy for this race:  go out slow, run slow, and hike a lot.  Oh yeah, and eat non-stop.  So I packed a drop back with enough food for 200 miles.

I started off perfectly, I intentionally let everyone that I thought might sucker me into a race-pace disappear.  The first 5 miles were run on the dangerously flat (read: fast) Creeper Trail, and I just cruised along letting everyone and anyone pass me.  When we finally hit the first single track climb everyone I knew was out in front of me.  (Well, everyone except Alexis who was determined to win the safe/slow starter race.  Talk about competitive.)

From this point on (until mile 37) I ran about as well as I could ask for.  I hiked well, ran smart, and ate like a teenager.  Slowly working my way through the field of runners who started faster than me.

Somewhere around 14 miles in I came upon Jamie Swyers running with another girl.  I knew that she was running the 30, and didn't expect to see her and Brenton at all before their turn around.  I joked with her about running so slow, and I told her that I would run her to the Skulls gap aid station, and joked that if we found Brenton I would slow him down so that she could get ahead of him.

We caught him right before the aid station, but he didn't need my help slowing down, he was already having stomach issues.  I went to my drop bag and dug out about 50 thousand calories to carry with me up the next climb.  There was a little girl volunteering, and she commented about all the chocolate in my bag.  I gave her a snickers bar, and headed out with arms and bottles full.

(Congratulations to Jamie who went on to win the 30 miler, and Brenton who finished under less than perfect conditions.)

The next section was a long gravel road climb, and I took advantage of the hiking by eating a ton of calories.  By the time I found some runnable terrain I had successfully stored all my extra food in pockets and was ready to move again.  I knew it was roughly a 20 mile loop back to the drop bags at Skulls gap, but I didn't know much else about this section.

The first half of this loop was really runnable and fun, and then we hit the "shoe sucker" section.  Supposedly there was a waterfall somewhere, but I missed it as I was concerned with keeping my feet shod as I climbed up a hill with four inches of mud pretty much everywhere.  There was a tough 3 mile hike, which consisted of what I would call bog-like terrain punctuated by creek-crossings every 200 yards.  At the top of the hill there was an aid station and, luckily, more climbing.

I would guess it was about a mile or two of pretty steep gravel road coming out of that aid station.  By the time I reached the top of that climb, probably five miles total from the bottom of the falls, the skies opened up with a steady rain.  Which was better than the alternative, which would have been sunshine and 85 degrees with 2000% humidity.  So I embraced the downhill and the rain, and started to run again.

When I finally got back to Skulls Gap and my drop bag, I was surprised both by how good I was feeling and how fast I had covered the distance.  Especially considering that I had hiked almost all of the uphills so far.  I asked how much farther and they told me it was only 13 miles.  My watch said that I had been running for 6:55 at this point.  And this is where I made my first and only real mistake of the day.

I wondered if I could run this thing in under 9 hours.  Supposedly it was all down hill, and I had a little over two hours to do it.  So I rushed through my drop bag, only drinking half a gatorade, and hurried away from the aid station.  The race was on.

And the race lasted for about four miles.

First off, don't ever believe people when they tell you that "it's all down hill from here."  Especially if you have more than ten miles of trail to cover.  No trail is all down hill for 13 miles.  Granted, there were no big or terribly steep climbs left, but it was a lot more rolling than I had counted on, and I discovered quickly that I could not hold my 10K pace for the last half marathon of a 50 mile trail race.

Sure, that seems like a no-brainer, now, in hind-sight.  But 9 hours sounded so good, so possible, that I had to try.  And try I did.

Right before my rocket boosters gave out I passed my buddy Decker on a particularly muddy stretch of trail during a particularly heavy down pour.  He looked like I was about to start feeling, and I feel guilty that I didn't slow down and see if he needed anything.  Sorry Decker.  I had about one more good mile after that, and then the burn out hit.

It was a lot of work after the fun left.  Every little roller seemed like an insurmountable peak.  I found myself walking the flats before the hills a few times and had to yell at myself that I was still running PR pace.  So I trudged my way through nine of the hardest, longest, soggiest miles of a race ever.  Finishing with a very good time of 9:30.  That's a 42 minute PR for the 50 mile distance.  18th overall (2nd female).

I would recommend Iron Mountain to anyone interested in trail running.  It was a great course, with great volunteers, and great runners.  Damascus is pretty cool too.

-Todd

Next up - Odyssey's Trail Running Rampage 40 miler

On the Other Side of the Mountain

This past Saturday's run at Iron Mountain was butt kickingly tough but after a few days rest and reflection I have a much brighter outlook on the experience. Because I find numbered lists to illustrate order and a sense of real productivity, here's a bit of what's come to pass in my mad mind.

1.) I'm now an ultrarunner. Vomiting was that last thing standing in my way of becoming a tride and true ultrarunner, having had the trail literally eat my lunch I feel completely entitled to really call myself an ultrarunner now. Yes, it's official. I'm getting a sticker!

Seriously, I was worried about vomiting at Western States and though convinced that it was going to happen it never did, never even got nauseous there despite the heat. However, now that it has happened I realize it really wasn't that bad. And to be honest, I should have thrown up sooner at Iron Mountain because I really did feel much, much better every time I did. Not sure that it would have made much difference in the overall outcome but hopefully in the future I won't be so skittish about seeing my insides on the trail side.

2.) I can finish what I start. This isn't to say there will never be a DNF in my future but I know if and when it happens it will be no small thing that brings me to it. Saturday was HARD. But I finished. It may have taken almost all of the allotted time, it may have only been thanks to the advice and encouragement I received on the trail but I still had to cover those 50 miles with these legs that are strong and this mind that is a little less so but WILL get there. There is a little ounce or so of confidence that has grown out of Saturday's near defeat because however near to defeat it was I still completed the distance, I'm still running and I'm looking forward to my next race.

3.) I love the ultrarunning community. The other runners, the volunteers, the race directors, so many people leaving their indelible mark on me as a runner but also as a person. I would likely NOT have gone on had it not been for two people in particular: Leah Linarelli and Tammy Gray. Leah gave me the push I needed to just let the stomach trouble run it's course instead of continuing to fight it and Tammy gave me the push I needed to keep moving forward when I was no longer sure that I could. But there were another dozen people who had a positive impact on my day: Beth Minnick, Brain Keefer, Dru Sexton, Cheyenne Craig, the Fig Newton guy, and many more. I couldn't run 50 miles, heck let's be honest I probably wouldn't run 5, if it weren't for this community that just keeps etching its spot in my heart. No gesture is too small, I may not have appeared thankful on Saturday (in my defense I was pretty drained) but I really do take account. Whether they want me or not I've completely associated myself with this community.

4.)  I have to remember I want to be a lifer and I need to get my head and stomach on track, but I'm certainly not done. It's been suggested to me since Saturday's run (and a little before) that my head was the reason for my stomach troubles. I want to fight off that notion but the fact is there is at least a little bit of truth to the idea. Had I not completely fretted about my stomach I would have just gone with my usual pepto before the race start and possibly had a very different day. The fact that so many people keep suggesting to me that my biggest hurdle is my own head is starting to sink in. And though I've been laughing about it for months now, the truth is I don't really know how to change. But I know that I need to. Hoping that's at least a step in the right direction.

5.) There's still a lot to learn. Just as in overcoming my mental blocks I recognize that there is still room for me to grow. Also, I realize that experience can make you wealthy. I am no longer a newbie perhaps but I also can appreciate how running long distance helps you to, well, run long distance. Reading books on the subject is fine, training is imperative, and making race and fueling plans is great, but you may still be surprised when you find yourself in the middle of a run with a unique set of circumstances you may have yet to face. Though I've experienced blisters, and stomach troubles from both ends, bonking and injury, severe heat and terrible falls, I will not be surprised to find that there are still a score of incidents left to encounter on the trails ahead.

6.) I've been running but not training. I run for a reason. And sometimes I lose focus on why that is. But not much else in my life has ever asked so much of me yet given me back so much. Since June I've been drifting from run to run, no clear goals or target. If I want to get a hold of my head and ever get better I have to stop drifting, I have to get serious.

-Alexis

Momma said there'd be days like this....Iron Mountain 50 Race Report

There I was, 48 miles and 11 1/2 hours into the day's run, sitting in the middle of the trail right beside what had just a few minutes ago been the contents of my stomach, wondering where I go from here. The dark haired woman's words ringing in my head "You'll regret it later if you don't finish." It was as though I was having an out of body experience, this couldn't really be me, struggling with every ounce of fight left within just to scrape out a finish. And yet, even that was uncertain at the moment.

The day had started out with plenty of uncertainties. Worried about my stomach due to G.I. issues the past few long runs,  I was fairly worked up about my stomach in the days preceding the race. I was so worried about my stomach that I didn't really even contemplate finishing times or make a race plan other than to pack Imodium, Pepto and Tums first  among my things when gathering the weekend's gear.

Instead of my pre-race ritual Pepto, I took Imodium, distressed about my stomach as I was. It really did seem like a good idea at the time, and it worked, I didn't go to the bathroom all day.  However, I think had I taken Pepto instead as is my usual M.O. I may have had a vastly different day. In addition to the liquid Imodium I ate two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drank some grape Gatorade. I also took two S caps.

We got to the race start and I noticed lots of people walking around eating and eating. I decided to take a GU, thinking it was better to be full of food then hungry. The race started at 7 am and ran along the flat, gravel Creeper Trail in the town of Damascus for nearly five miles. I started out slow, once again, probably not the best idea. I'm honestly beginning to think I don't know what I'm doing. Anyways, I could still see Todd, Kevin and Chelsie up ahead so I didn't fret my pace. But then at about mile three my stomach started to bother me. It wasn't serious, just a slight wave of nausea. I was able to keep running, holding a steady 9:20 pace until we got off of the Creeper Trail.

We exited the Creeper Trail just about five miles in at the first aid station. Due to the nausea I stopped at the first aid station and got a drink. Afterwards we hit single track and a small climb and I took to walking. It wasn't steep but I just felt like walking. Gina, Dru and Rebecca caught back up with me and I told them my stomach was bothering me. Dru offered me an S Cap but I wasn't sure that would help. I just followed Dru's footsteps, trying to shake the nausea and find my race. I listened as Dru told another runner about the Mountain Junkies series and just climbed as well as I could. Dru is a good climber and I started to feel better as we hiked steadily along. At the second aid station my stomach was feeling better but I wasn't having much desire to push myself.

In the next section I started to pick the pace up a little, I passed Dru and caught Cheyenne and we ran a short ways together. I saw Horton who asked how I was. I told him I thought I was burnt out, that I was having a hard time finding any desire to run. He replied "That isn't good." To be honest, I was hoping for a little more wisdom from him, but I figure he thinks I'm a head case and it wouldn't do any good wasting advice on me anyhow. However, after I passed him I did find a little desire to pick it up. Maybe in spite of the fact that I believe Horton feels that way.

I passed Chelsie headed into Skull's Gap and she said she felt good but was taking it easy on her ankle. The runner behind me introduced herself, Leah and we talked for a few minutes. At the Skull's Gap aid station I drank some Mountain Dew and refilled my vest with more GU. I saw Brian Keefer who was volunteering and he said he thought Kevin Corell was only ten minutes ahead of me. I grabbed some watermelon and pringles and headed out.

Leah and I talked some more as we started the next climb and then leap-frogged a bit. I hiked yet covered the distance well. As it leveled out a bit I took to running and turned on my iPod. I was starting to really feel good. I ate on schedule and took another S Cap or two. I was working on dwindling the time between Kevin and I. I was probably being cocky. I looked at my clock and started to work on bridging the gap between us, I figured if I could hold pretty steady I could run 10 hours, if I slipped a little I could run 10:30. Not great but with the start I'd had I was content.

At the next aid station I had some more Mountain Dew and watermelon and headed out with two guys and a girl. It was downhill  on a gravel road and I stayed steady keeping the three runners ahead in sight. We turned left onto a single track trail and I talked with the guy who was directly ahead for a few minutes. Then we came to another gravel road that was almost all downhill. At first it was great, I caught and passed a few runners still keeping the girl and guy from the previous aid station in sight and working on that 10 minute gap. I would even run the short uphills. And then, after a few miles of downhilling the nausea came back. I opened a GU and tried for a few minutes to eat it. Finally I stopped moving, tried once more and dumped the rest of the packet so I could put the empty wrapper back in my vest. I took to running downhill again but the nausea just kept getting worse. I thought it may be the heat and humidity bothering me so when thunder clapped I was hopeful for a storm despite the sun still shining overhead.

Finally an aid station appeared. I told the volunteers I was nauseous and they offered me a popsicle which I took and I drank some Mountain Dew as one of the volunteers put some pringles and a quarter PB&J in a sandwich bag for me. I headed off back into single track trail, feeling worse with every step. I stopped in the first creek crossing and knelt down and poured water on my head and washed my face hoping the cool water would refresh me, lessen the nausea. I was finding it very hard to eat and the stomach trouble had gotten me down mentally. When Leah and one of the runners I'd run the downhill section with approached on an uphill section of single track I stepped aside and just followed their lead.

This was I believe the shoe sucking section I'd been warned about. It was single track with sloppy sections with unsure footing. I didn't loose my shoe but I picked up a lot of mud and muck. I stayed with the group as we picked up another male who looked as though he'd fallen and we climbed along the waterfall together. When we reached that aid station I got ice in my bottle, perhaps I am not drinking enough water I thought. I drank some more soda and ate grapes and watermelon. I left the aid station thinking Leah had left and I was hoping to stay with her. I followed the single track for a brief stint until it came out on a gravel road. I didn't see Leah so I ran thinking she had pulled ahead while I was getting fruit at the aid station. I was running along well and then the nausea hit hard. I had to start walking on a downhill section. I passed a group camping and forced myself to run by them. But shortly after I was doing almost less than walking, just crawling along at a snails pace, overwhelmed with nausea.

Earlier in the day when I had been plagued with nausea and wondering why I was even out here to run 50 miles I had contemplated a DNF. I'd gone back and forth on it until I'd remembered the Grindstone training run a few weeks ago when Brenton Swyers asked if I'd ever DNF'd. I had been able to say no. I decided that in two more weeks should someone ask me that question I would like to be able to say the same thing. But now, 33 miles into this thing, I was hitting bottom. Leah came upon me once more, she'd apparently not left the aid station before me and asked if I was okay. I told her I was nauseous. She asked if I thought it was an electrolyte imbalance and said I should try to throw up. Then she told me that she'd gotten sick at Old Dominion in June and that even though she'd ended up dropping she had felt better. I stopped then and bent over, with Leah basically by my side, this poor sweet angel, and threw up everything. Once, twice, three times. A male runner stopped and asked if I was okay and I was pretty embarrassed that he and Leah had to witness any of this. Leah told me she would let them know at the next aid station that I was sick and left but not before giving me the sweetest look and most tender of hugs.

After they left I walked a short ways but realized that I did feel better. I took to running again and as I turned off to the left onto more single track the threat of a storm became an awesome rain shower. I ran well to the next aid station and told myself that I wasn't going to quit. The worst was over. I got to the aid station as Leah was leaving and she asked if I was going to go on. I told her I felt better and I was going to try. The volunteers were awesome, they offered me a chair, which I declined, worrying I'd never get back up. One gave me a cup of ice water and another suggested I try banana. I emptied the trash from my vest into my drop bag and got a few more GU. I left feeling pretty good. I looked at my watch. Eight hours in but only about 13 miles left.  I figured if I ran well I could still finish in a time of 10:30 or 10:40. I ran a little ways, figuring what kind of pace I would need to maintain and a little worried about fueling back up when only a little while later the wheels came off and the nausea came back.

This is when a just sort of bad day, became a truly bad day. I was nauseous once more, but could only dry heave. I couldn't stomach the thought of more GU and yet I didn't have the energy without trying to force myself to eat. I was walking along through mud and muck, slipping occasionally and I decided I wanted out. I thought long and hard about the prospect of a DNF, I decided I didn't really care. I didn't care about running 45 miles and quitting. And then a minute later I would tell myself "Thomas' don't quit", whatever this takes even if it's more than 12 hours, you have to finish. Back and forth. But this just drained more energy. I sat down once when the nausea and mental crap became too much to carry. I started hiking again and soon I began to be passed by what seemed like dozens of runners, all looking strong and telling me I did to. One man offered me a Fig Newton when I told him I was nauseous but then he realized he didn't have it on him. He felt bad but told me I was moving smoothly enough he thought I'd finish. I didn't bother to tell him I didn't really care.

I trudged on and several more people passed me, a girl named Emily I believe was one, she was so happy to see me, she said she'd thought it'd been the apocalypse it had been so long since she'd seen a runner. It wasn't long after this that I got dizzy and a little worried for my health. I sat down on a log and started playing out scenarios where I was the last runner out in the woods and that some search and rescue team was going to find me out here passed out along the side of this log. I didn't feel like myself at all. It was scary.

I managed to get up and keep moving forward to the next aid station but it just got uglier and uglier. I was a complete mess and moving on empty. I decided I had had enough, I was dropping at the next aid station. This was difficult to swallow and I think I got a little pouty about the decision.  Then I heard the call of a woman's voice yelling "runners you're near the cut off, hurry up you have ten minutes to make the cut". And for some reason I ran towards that voice.

I made it to the aid station as they were packing up the canopies. I stood there for a moment and one volunteer asked what I needed. I quietly told her I had been nauseous all day and had been throwing up. I poured a little Coke in a cup and drank it. I was waiting for someone to save me. I was waiting for my time to run out. And then a woman with dark hair shouted at me (and she may not have really shouted but it seemed like shouting at the time) to get whatever I needed and get out of the aid station. I told her, through quivering lips that I thought I was going to drop. She said, "NO, get whatever you need and go" and the other volunteer said "She's been throwing up and is nauseous" and the dark haired woman says "You will regret it, just go, you have time. You know what the cut off it right? Just grab what you need and keep moving. It's only 7.5 more miles." I moved over to the table and with tears collecting in my eyes I grabbed a ziploc bag and in it put some grapes, some pringles and some M&Ms. And I walked away.

I am not sure I've ever felt the way I did just then. I know now that I absolutely needed that push, but I was not thankful for it. In the next few miles I was a roller coaster of emotions. I started out trying to run after the coke and grapes, but the nausea was only getting worse. I stepped aside and let three guys go past me and I was certain that I was out there alone after they walked by. As they disappeared I had thoughts of calling to them and telling them to send Todd for me because I really wasn't sure I'd make it. I was certain I wouldn't hit the 12 hours but I figured at this point it was just about doing the distance regardless of the cutoff.

I tried to hike the best I could because running made me so nauseous that I had to stop and bend over the side of the trail after each short jaunt. I made it to the bottles and ran right by wondering where the rocky decent I'd heard rumor of was. Instead there was more climbing, I was down to the last hour though I'd left the aid station with just over two hours to go and only 7.5 miles. Finally I arrived at the rocky decent and I couldn't even walk without the nausea making me stop on the side of the trail, but nothing was coming up, and I think that was as much as anything because I was afraid to throw up again, I hate getting sick.

Finally it became too much, it was 11:30 hours in and I knew I still had over two miles to go thanks to the sign that said 2 miles to Damascus and just wasn't going to make it at the rate I was going. I stopped still as soon as another wave hit me and vomited again and again, projectile style with grapes and coke coming out of my nose until nothing else would come out, it scared me, my heart was racing faster than it had pumped all day (or so it felt). I sat down on the trail beside the contents of my stomach and was just absolutely defeated in a way I am not sure I've ever felt before. But my stomach did feel better. So I got back up, it was 11:30 on the watch, I had a half an hour still to make it back to the pavilion in Damascus. And so I ran.

I ran every step and prayed that the road to Damascus was close. I saw something up ahead but I couldn't tell if it was water or pavement, was I hallucinating? As I got closer I saw that it was pavement. I had been told earlier in the race that it wasn't a mile to the pavilion once you hit the road. I still had time. With an empty stomach I was able to run every step to the pavilion.

So in a nutshell I had nearly as bad a day as I could have had (nausea/vomiting are better than an injury) but I finished. I just wish that the finishing felt better. I am sure in a few days or weeks to come that I'll be more positive about finishing, but for now I'm kind of still empty towards the whole experience. I am thankful for the volunteer, whose name I didn't get but was told it was Rick Gray's wife. She did give me the final push that I needed. I'm thankful for all of the volunteers at the aid stations and the other people out on the trail, so many of whom I didn't even get a name. I'm thankful for all of the friends I've made and especially those who let me shower in their RV (thanks Frank and Christy).

There may be more later, but for now...

-Alexis

It's Not Always That Bad

Occasionally I'm confronted with truths about myself that are not pleasant. Sometimes when this happens I can become slightly offended because, while true, I've yet to come to terms with the truth and it stings. Other times when people point out my flaws I just smile and laugh along because it's a truth I've come to own, made no real headway in changing or at least decided that laughing is better in a restaurant than crying.

What exactly am I skirting around? My sister called me a whiner. On more than one occasion. Maybe the day after every post I've written this year to paint a more accurate description. I can laugh and smile because, most of the time, while this might surprise you, I read my own blog. I know it sounds whiny. I am whiny. Not always. But my blog is like an extension of my running journal, it's meant to be cathartic. If I can't whine and let it all hang out then it loses my interest if not yours. But maybe I've been perhaps a tad too whiny of late?

So in an honest effort to not lose a reader, I present you, in my best effort, a good run.

But first, the backstory.

Last summer Todd and I took the kids out to see this thing, you may be familiar with it, it's called the Appalachian Trail. We hit the footbridge that crosses the James River and did about a half hour's hike in one direction. I was in love and pumped to go for a run on the "AT". So a few short weeks later we organized a run on a Sunday afternoon where we planned to run from the Footbridge to Petits Gap and back. A few people said they would meet us out there. But no one else showed and we started the trek alone on what would be one of the hottest runs of the entire summer. We ran too hard at the start and I cursed the ridge line  as the sun beat down upon us not even halfway into the entire run. We turned around at Petits Gap which wasn't even much to see to be honest and headed back to our car. Two miles later both our hydration packs were empty. We had no water, no food, it was hot as Hades and we still had seven miles to the car. I wasn't whiny, I was irrational and may have become unhinged. Fortunately, Frank Gonzales showed up with water and a GU and saw us back to the creek crossings. It goes down as one of the worst runs I've ever had. Yet I've been meaning to go back.

So exactly a year later, on another hot and sunny Sunday afternoon much like the one last year another Petits Gap run was planned.

This time we actually organized it with people who showed up; Kevin Corell, Chelsie Viar, Joe Alderson, Sam Dangc, and then of course Todd and I. And we were smarter, or at least had a smart, generous friend (Kevin) who was willing to drive an extra hour and stash water at Petites Gap for us.  So before we ever got started we were in better shape than we were last year.

After a few minutes in the parking lot we started off on the day's run. Todd, Sam and Joe were planning a slightly longer route where they hit the Belfast trail down to the Devil"s Marbleyard and then took a gravel road up to Petites. I wasn't sure which way I was going to go but decided at the shelter to hold up and wait for Kevin and Chelsie. I decided that the day's goal would be to best my effort from last summer, complete the run in a time better than 4:52. I knew this shouldn't be hard as wrong as last year's run went, but I still wanted to be careful until the turn around.

Chelsie, Kevin and I hiked most of the next climb and then ran easy along the more level sections, I was feeling good. At about mile five I was just running really smooth and comfortable and even enjoying the occasional spots of rocky terrain, seeing them as training for Iron Mountain coming up this weekend.

Nearer the top Chelsie took the lead and went up and over that last rocky climb well. I let Kevin and Chelsie pull away and ate a Strawberry Waffle (the tummy hasn't been in love with these but my taste buds and I are!). I went at my own steady pace up and over the final climb to Petites Gap, remembering how difficult it had seemed the year before. Now other than how grown up this section was it was relatively smooth sailing. I was having a pretty good day.

We made it to Petites Gap in 2:13, I have no idea how long it took us to get there last year but I knew that I had taken it far more conservatively this time around to the top. We refilled out packs and ate some cookies killing about 6-7 minutes, all the while time clicking away. I generally will not stop my Garmin for any reason on a run, not for any reason in particular other than I seem to ALWAYS forget to restart it. We headed back out, in the direction of the car, at 2:20. I hoped we could cover the second half which is predominantly downhill in less than 2:10.

The first section of a half mile or so back uphill over some rocks and back through the grown up grass and weeds we took easy and hiked. But when it leveled out I started running with that 2:10 on my mind. I took the downhills comfortably hard not too concerned about my quads or Iron Mountain coming up in less than a week's time.

I ran a ways and came to a split in the woods that I was uncertain of how to proceed I waited for the group. Moments later Chelsie, Kevin and Sam Dangc appeared. Sam had caught us despite having run approximately 3 miles longer. He's fast like that, we didn't hold it against him. Then Todd showed up and after a bathroom break I was worried we had dilly dallied too long and took off downhill at a quicker clip than was probably necessary or smart.

I finally slowed as my pack was upsetting my stomach once again and I let Sam pass by me. I ran a little further on but my stomach was only getting worse. I was worried of a repeat of the misery that was the Grindstone training run but I was also worried about dumping my water from my pack and having a repeat of last year's frightening Petites run on dehydration. Todd offered me one of his water bottles (that was empty) so I stopped, poured as much of the water from my pack into the bottle and then dumped the rest of my hydration pack. During this Kevin and Chelsie caught back up with us and we took off once more in a group.

My stomach was instantly feeling better and I was running well and then I lost the trail. I mean I stepped off the side of the trail and a downhill section. I went down, throwing Todd's bottle off the side of the trail in the interim. He helped me up and I estimated the damage done while he went down the hill to rescue his bottle. I had scratched the side of my knee fairly well but I could run on it. We took to running again and not more than a few hundred feet downtrail Chelsie did a very similar thing. It was almost funny the fact that we couldn't stay on the trail. It's narrow, but not that narrow. We laughed and mosied for a minute. Then I heard Todd yell "JOE". I thought he'd seen Joe, apparently he was just yelling for Joe while we were meandering along laughing about our inability to stay on trail.

Well when Todd yelled Joe something clicked in me. I asked Chelsie if Joe who had also gone the longer route was really behind us. She said "I don't know, but run like he is." If you know me, you know that 'race' is my trigger word. It was kind of like Chelsie had yelled 'race'.

So I did what made the most sense.

I took off.

It was downhill and full of switchbacks and I ran just nice and hard. It wasn't that I was running from Joe, I was just ready to pick it up after the stopping and starting and falling. It wasn't long before I came to the second to last creek crossing that you cross on the way back to the footbridge. Sam was there soaking his leg. He'd fallen twice during the run and had a nice egg sized bump on his shin. I stopped long enough to ask him if he was okay. He said he was, I told him to get up, Joe was on our trail or he wasn't but either way I had a goal of 4:30 for this run.

He got up and we ran along and then the trail started to descend even more. Sam Dangc is far faster than me. Even if he's been in California all summer just running for fun he is and always will be faster than me. But I was hellbent on not being slow enough on the descent for him to need to go around me. So I picked up the pace even more. Again, with Iron Mountain approaching maybe this was dumb. But I do not care. I enjoyed every step of that decent. I mean I ran faster and better on that decent (mostly) than I have at more races I've ever won. I needed that descent. Stupid or not.

We made it to the shelter and the creek crossing and without a word between us went into that creek, washing our faces, drinking the water, taking in it's cool refreshing power. Todd came along shortly after and made me feel even better, he said he'd let it all go to catch us and couldn't. That made me feel even better.

Now it was just a little further back to the car, maybe a mile and a half? Two miles? Well being that close I decided that I would continue on eating nothing (because, mostly, I'm DUMB). I'd be in the car soon enough with cookies, I could wait. I hadn't eaten anything since the cookie at Petits Gap. I ran along and Sam passed me and then Todd. Before long I recognized that the slipping speed was a bonk. I was bonking because I'd chosen not too eat anything on the second half despite knowing that I wanted to negative split the run. But I'm dumb and still didn't eat anything. So my pace slipped and slipped. I even walked a level section once the bridge was in sight. But I didn't care. I knew I was going to be well within my goal of 4:30.

Todd was slowing too so I caught up with him and we ran mostly together, suffering quietly but collectively back to the footbridge. We made it back to the bridge in 4:13. I had managed to take nearly 40 minutes off of last year's run. I was, with what little energy I had left, ecstatic, even if I'd run the second half STUPID. Which I had.

Joe, as it turns out, wasn't right behind me. It didn't matter anyways. I wasn't running from him, I was running from the memory of that terrible first run on the AT. Overall, despite the fact that I still run foolhardy at times I can tell I'm becoming a stronger runner because I knew I was choosing to run dumb and noticed these things for what they were as they were occurring unlike last year when we took the AT for granted, started way too hard and fell apart, with no water or fuel between us.

-Alexis