Race Report: Conquer the Cove Trail Marathon (Alexis)

Going into this race I knew two things: 1.) I was likely not going to win, not with Dacia Reed on the entrant list and 2.) I had committed to a second run in the afternoon in an attempt to run upwards of 50 miles as my last (extremely) long day before Western States. Knowing these things I was still unsure of whether I was going to 'race' or just 'train' through the marathon as I waited at the start line for the Conquer the Cove Marathon to begin.

Fortunately, I've made many friends in the Mountain Junkies scene and decided to focus on catching up with them rather than the bigger, longer task ahead. Starting out on the road I allowed myself to fall back, maintaining a ten minute pace on asphalt as I watched many of the runners I like to run with pull away. I figured it was important to warm up and that it was a long race, that I could catch up. Reaching the Trough trail I was feeling good but already sweating despite not overly pushing it. I was caught up in a conversation when we came across the first water stop. It was early, I thought the aid stations were two miles apart and so I made the fatal race error to skip this aid station seeing as my bottle was halfway full.

I should have seen that bottle as halfway empty.

Running on, I was sweating and drinking and not long after my bottle was empty and I looked at my watch and we were not even four miles in, I began to grow concerned. Then over the next few miles I began to have little sizzling calf cramps all over my lower legs, they were not debilitating but they were fearsome and I backed off my pace and kept listening for sounds of the next approaching aid station which, to my absolute dismay, turned to be much further out than I had anticipated. I slowed down fearing that if I ran hard it would make me sweat more and become worse off. Clearly I did a poor job of reading the water stop description and paying attention at the first aid station sign, both of which would have prepared me for the distance between aid stations.

I was so thankful when I finally heard the sounds of the aid station but there was still a switchback or two before we finally came upon it. I filled my bottle with water and drank a cup of Gatorade, something that I never do but hoped it would help stop the cramping.

I took a GU, some salt pills and drank up the water but I still continued to experience the little sizzling cramps. I focused on staying steady even if it was slower than I would have liked and was happy to finally be sweating again. At the third aid station I drank two cups of Gatorade and filled my bottle once again. In the Enchanted Forest I had a moment where I thought I was on the wrong trail and slowed a little as I was all alone, I was really considering turning around when I finally caught sight of a runner ahead and decided that at least I wasn't alone anymore even if I was lost. Thankfully, however, I wasn't lost and soon saw a streamer again.

Through this section of the race I kept wavering about whether to just call it a day and just finish or try and pick the pace up. For a few minutes I would decide none of it mattered, just enjoy the day and my surroundings. Other times I would decide that the race was long and I still had a chance of a good day. Then other times I was down on all of it and had to convince myself to keep a steady moving pace. It's too early for this to be your wall, find your will, I would try to encourage. At one point in the down and out I saw Randy and Lauren up ahead and picked up the pace to catch up with them. I was hoping we could help each other along. They were quiet, as was I, and Lauren's stomach was upset, I moved ahead slowly as Randy wished me a good day.

With the poor hydrating choice early on I had forgone any GU schedule and I had the overall feeling that even if I was just 'training through' I wasn't really even doing a good job with this training run. At mile 13 I finally looked at my watch for the first time in a long while, it said 2:07. The race was advertised at being 26.4, I figured I would be lucky to hit under 4:20 at all and I knew that the '1,000 foot climb' was still looming up ahead. I decided to restart a GU schedule of every 40 minutes and run as steady as possible.

I was hoping to find runners up ahead to try and pull me but I was out there alone for miles, I ended up having to go to my iPod for help. I started focusing on mile signs and when the big climb was coming. When I reached the climb I found the first part to be the hardest, the section that is before the aid station, I had to walk and tried to alternate with short bursts of both running and walking. I knew I was walking too much and that if I walked this much of the climb I was destined to run more like 4:30.

Coming into the aid station I took a GU, drank a little more Gatorade and filled my bottle. The awesome volunteers directed me to tubs of cold towels and I washed my face and neck down with one which was amazing. I left the aid station knowing I had to run stronger than I was really feeling like running, I wanted to be done, I knew I'd regret it later if I didn't try and do my best on the hill. I tried to convince myself that if I ran well I might catch someone on the hill. I started running and ran the next mile, but I didn't see another runner. I gave myself a break but in retrospect I have a tendency to just be lazy, I didn't probably need that break. I tried to 'hike' thinking of Western States and the need to be a good hiker, but my watch said over 16 minute pace and I felt strong enough to run so I just went back to running deciding to save practicing hiking for another day. I did take another two short walk breaks but I think the hill was actually easier than I found it last year. I had run slower to get to the climb than last year's race so maybe that plays a part in it but I found it to have more flattish sections than I recalled from the year before. Then finally I saw a female up ahead. Thinking she was the first runner I had seen in miles, I set my sights on her. Then up ahead I saw another figure, I could have sworn their running posture was incredibly familiar. I thought it was my husband Todd.

I picked up the pace but the runner I thought was Todd disappeared on a slightly downhill section, I couldn't decide if this further suggested it was Todd who runs well downhill or if I was possibly just dreaming his presence pulling me ahead. I ran harder to try and find out. The aid station that represents the top of the climb and begins the descent to the finish appeared and I became more certain that the runner ahead was Todd, his form is uniquely his own. I ran harder in the hopes that we could push each other towards the finish. Whenever I come across Todd in a race it is the same way, I offer to help push each other along and he barely speaks to me, just pushes me on ahead. I tried to give him ibuprofen at the aid station but he just told me to chase down the girl who had left the aid station just as we were arriving.

Deciding not to argue I ran on ahead even though he is usually a much better downhill runner than I am. Not long after beginning the decent my stomach started to bother me. I began to slow and then my body told me to find a tree or else. I listened and climbed into the woods watching as Todd passed by. Having no toilet paper I managed the best that I could and climbed out of the woods in the hopes of still chasing them down if my stomach would cooperate. I was a little worried as it was in this section last year that my race literally fell apart with debilitating cramps all the way to the finish line. I had continued to have little sizzling cramps all day and was worried these were a sign of worse to come. I caught back up with Todd who encouraged that I pass him again and chase down the runner ahead. I figured I was fifth at best, knowing Dacia, Courtney and Sarah were still ahead of me and the female runner directly ahead. I caught up with Shelby, ran behind her for a moment, she didn't really seem to want me to pass her, which is completely understandable on downhill technical trail at 20+ miles in to a marathon. But I had found a little bit of that racing competitiveness in myself and thought I would use it while I had it.

Once I was ahead of Shelby I wondered how far ahead Courtney and Sarah were, I decided to pick up the pace in the hopes that I could at least decrease the time between us. I took two more salt pills hoping that would keep cramps at bay. Running along the fireroad I thought I saw Sarah up ahead. I was starting to get a little tired but I held on hoping I could catch Sarah. Over a little hill I caught a runner, a female from the 25k, and wondered if I really had seen Sarah at all. Then coming up to the final aid station I was sure it was Sarah ahead. I stopped at the aid station trying to wolf down a GU and drink a little water before I went out to chase. I was watching Sarah pull ahead and choking on the cup of water and I got excited. Seriously all day had been kind of a bummer and seeing Sarah up ahead made it feel like the race that it was. I had been looking for Sarah and Courtney all day after I had passed Lauren but had decided after the climb there was probably no chance in running either of them down.

I took off on the asphalt and it was a quick minute before I could even see Sarah again. She was running STRONG! I don't know if she had seen me when she was at the aid station but she was burning the road up. I was running hard and loving every second of it. She turned and looked at me and I swear she picked it up even more, I looked down and we were running a 7:10 at over 25 miles into the marathon. I was so thankful that she was there, I knew I wouldn't have pushed like this if she wasn't. Then I had a moment where I questioned chasing her down, but I'll be honest, I thought I might still have a chance of a top 3 finish, I thought I should give it my all if that was still a possibility. Turning on to the trail I got even more excited, I don't know where Sarah trains, but I know where I train and that is mostly on trails, I thought I had a better chance of chasing her down on trails then on roads which are not my strong suit. At the same time I knew we were extremely close to the finish line. She fought hard to the finish, and I passed her less than thirty seconds out from the finish line. I finished in 4:17 with her right behind me. Then I realized we were 5th and 6th female and I kind of felt like a jerk. Todd had to keep reminding me over the evening that it was a race and Sarah wouldn't have hard feelings. I think a little of me felt like I needed that finish but then afterwards it didn't give me any satisfaction.

In the end it was an alright day. I think I made a pivotal error by not filling my bottle up at that first aid station. But between the cramps and stomach trouble I still had a day that wasn't all that bad. Todd and I had made plans to run again that afternoon. After about an hour of socializing with our fellow Mountain Junkies we headed to Lynchburg to finish up our double. I had taken my wet shoes off at the race and had discovered a handful of blisters on my feet, probably from being dehydrated and that made for a painful shoe change as we went back out for more trails.

Other than painful feet the start of the second run went better than I had expected. But then storms moved in on us which was honestly less than fun. And then my stomach went south. Like worse than Hellgate last December. I was stopping every five minutes and running, especially downhill, was murder. I had an awesome, supportive group out there in the rain with me, encouraging me to keep moving no matter how slow. I really wish that I could bring them to Western States with me. I know I would have called the run after the first half hour of stomach trouble. Unfortunately, the stomach trouble plagued me for the entire second run which was over three hours and was definitely short of my 50 mile goal for the day. My highly supportive friends who suffered through many stops and two storms would have gone on but I decided that my legs would easily carry me the extra mileage but that the stomach wasn't really making the suffering through the thunderstorm of any real benefit. I felt confident that I could keep moving physically but that the stomach was through for the day. We still managed about 40 for the day and this way I might be able to run by Tuesday.

This morning I feel fine. Still have a few painful blisters and my back is chaffed uncomfortably but I could run on those today if I had to run. My legs feel pretty good for their effort yesterday. Overall, I'm content and sometimes that's as good as it gets.

-Alexis

Race Report: Trail Nut Half Marathon

Mountain Junkies LLC
Trail Nut 10k & Half Marathon
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Bedford, VA

This was the second Mountain Junkies event we had the pleasure of experiencing back in 2010 when I first discovered this amazing series of races. The Mountain Junkies are a husband and wife duo that "want you to have a great time", a tagline that is evident in every aspect of the events they put together. This event, the Trail Nut 10k and Half Marathon, is one of my favorites and so close to home I couldn't pass it up even with that vow I made with myself about racing anything this short before Western States (and then of course there's that ridiculous streak of mine).

I ran the 10k in 2010, it was only my third 10k ever, second on trails and I fell in love with the park that the race introduced me to and even more in love with single track. In 2011, hellbent on finishing the series despite being pregnant, I ran the 10k and announced with my t-shirt that I was expecting a 'future Mountain Junkie'. Last year was my first attempt at the half marathon, for which personal problems led to a pretty down evening and morning before the race start. I started the race hungry and with my mind elsewhere, with legs only a week off of my second ultra, and suffered greatly.

After swearing off shorter races earlier this year when the calf trouble befell me I had to sorrowfully remove the Mountain Junkies RNUTS from my race calendar. However, after last weekend's not so stellar performance at Promise Land I began contemplating the Trail Nut. I thought about just coming out, maybe sweeping the course or being a cheerleader, but I'd seen the race t-shirt and wondered just how I could do at a race for which speed of some sort would be necessary. Todd was encouraging that I run the half, not 'sandbag' and race the 10k, he was also excited about seeing what he could do at the half marathon.

Back and forth on registering, as well as which distance to choose all the way up until we arrived at Falling Creek Park kept the nerves and race jitters down to a very fine low, almost nonexistent. Uncertain how my calf would react I registered for the half marathon, figuring the distance would afford a slighter slower overall pace. With a few minutes to spare before the race briefing I joined Todd for a quick warm-up.

The pace was slow and the calf felt good, I began to think I could pull it off. I figured I would be fifth, trailing Dacia, Courtney, Lauren and Carrie, as long as I could hold it together.

Turns out "holding it together" is a real challenge for me.

I positioned myself at the start line around  Lauren, Courtney, Randy, people I thought I should be able to run with if I ran well. When the race began I tried to go out with them. Through the grass we ran, I was keeping with them but also immediately feeling the pace, you can't keep this, Alexis, back off now. Backing off before we even entered the single track was blow number one. When the calf began to tighten, as should be expected at this point, I tried to push through. When the pain in my calf began to spread to my foot like it did at that fateful 5k back in February I had to reign it in further and lose several more positions. This was blow number two. With the calf now irritated and with a diminishing pace I began to fall victim to the negativity, contemplating a DNF. Just tell Josh your leg can't handle this, you just ran an ultra a week ago, this was foolish at best. Struggling along, the determined side of me spoke up, you can finish this, it may take three hours, but you don't DNF, it's not who you are. 

The next few miles were a tad bit miserable, but I was in this thing. I was slipping just slightly in pace as I fought on, hoping the pain in my calf would ease as it is known to do after a few miles. I just kept trying to reassure myself that it would pass. However, by the time I found myself running on pavement the pain was radiating up the hip, not full out painful, but a threat of some kind. To top it off I've been dealing with a touch of plantar fasciitis in the other foot that decided to share it's frustration with me at this point. The persistent pain, while not severe, was blow number three. I was an absolute mess.

Then, shortly before the bike park, Sarah Taylor passed me looking strong. I followed closely behind as we made our ways up the grassy hill, taking in her beautiful stride, admiring her strength. When we came into the bike park and it was flat with countless people ahead of us running seemingly in circles my first thought was this is just cruel! I could see the runners ahead of me, but then as I ran further into the flat, winding section I began to see the happy, strong faces of runners quickly approaching. I always feel a certain weakness on flats and Saturday was no different. I started to focus on Sarah, how strong she looked.

Suffering in the first miles. Photo courtesy Mountain Junkies.

And finally, that determined side spoke up, louder this time: She IS strong! But you are strong, too. Yes, you feel pain, but aren't you an ultra runner? Isn't overcoming pain part of what it takes for success? Push aside the pain, pick up the pace and run strong. I heard these thoughts and I believed them. And just like that, my race came back together, instantly. I picked up the pace and focused on that strength that I possess but consistently forget to harness.

I still felt pain in my left heel and right hip, but I started to drown them out with this new-found focus on running well. If there was anymore negative self-talk it was only that it shouldn't take me nearly five miles to decide to run on strengths, not deficiencies. The next six miles were run well, I began to settle into a better race, a better day. I was a little disoriented coming through the first loop, unsure whether I should really be crossing the finish line or not. I decided to stop at the aid station to fill up my water bottle, I was worried it would heat up in the second loop, but I probably should have just dropped the empty bottle at what would be the finish line, I didn't end up drinking much of the water and it probably cost me some time.

Going out for the second, shorter loop I felt pretty good, the heel was the only thing still really nagging me and I hoped to drop the pace even more. However, at about eleven miles the fatigue began to set in. I would have to settle for holding the pace, the legs may be capable of holding that pace for a half marathon but they really just aren't trained for it at the moment. When I came upon Blake with less than two miles to go I wondered when he had passed me. He said he'd accidentally cut the course, that he'd already told Gina about it and that he'd see me at the finish as he let me pass by him.

Coming into the final miles a volunteer directing the half marathoners told me I was in third place for females, I had been kind of hoping to chase Courtney down, but there was no one out in front of me that I could see. I had a runner behind me the entire second loop, I kept encouraging him to pass me but he kept assuring me that he was just trying to hold on. The short, but slightly steep final section of trail was not as hard as I recalled last year. I had planned on not pushing the final steps but when I saw I was capable of breaking 1:50 I picked up the pace to secure that feat.

Within moments of passing the finish line I had several people tell me I was third female and several tell me I was fourth. I didn't let the confusion bother me, I was preoccupied with a fair bit of itching. I had sat down in the grass and I don't know if that's what caused the itching but most of my legs and torso itched. Thankfully, Gina saved me with a Benadryl.

Turns out, I was third. One of the females in the race had unintentionally cut the course along with Blake and a few other guys. I felt really bad about this, like I was stealing third. Todd assured me that, while everyone involved felt bad, I was third and shouldn't feel bad about accepting the award.

Courtney Griffin (2nd), Dacia Reed (1st) and Alexis Thomas (3rd)

I urge everyone who hasn't run a Mountain Junkies race to do so, I have started several posts about just how well put together and carried out they are, but I think you just need to go out and participate to really feel what I would try to convey in a post. Conquer the Cove is next month, go sign up! You won't be sorry, but you may be sore!

Once again, post race, I'm floundering, frustrated. I feel lost. I know I can run well but being injury prone and with Western States looming closer everyday I am probably worse than ever before. I told Todd yesterday that I can't wait for July 1st, I'm just ready to see how it all turned out. I keep saying that I don't want to disappoint everyone, but to be honest, I'm most worried that I am going to disappoint myself, fall apart and quit before my time. If I could just locate that strength I know I have, bottle it up and have it ready I know I would be alright but instead I keep misplacing it, and that has me truly running scared.

-Alexis

Alexis's Promise Land 50k Race Report

The one where 'Little Miss Efficiency' fights by the skin of her overly bitten nails to scrape out a Top 10 overall female finish and a PR.

Promise Land 50k++
Big Island, VA
Saturday, April 27th, 2013

If you were in contact with me Friday evening at the Promise Land camp I would have liked to think I appeared calm and collected, I was trying hard to pull off calm, I realize collected is a stretch when you're missing so many marbles. Kathie told me Saturday after the race that she was a nervous wreck hoping to find serenity in my smiles and jokes of which she swore I was absent during the race briefing the night before. Truth is there was an ominous feeling surrounding the race for me.

I've been treating a calf calamity since late February and just when I think I've made it through the injury it comes back with a vengeance, snickering and finger pointing. Monday, because I'm in such a need of reassurance, I went out for a flat not-quite-tempo pace run. Hoping to run four miles in under 32 minutes I thought I performed a sufficient warm-up and embarked on my workout. To my dismay my calf started in before the first mile marker. I thought I could just run through, give it added attention by way of rolling and stretching later. At two miles the pain had forced me to stop, after a few minutes massage I headed back to my car, frustrated and crushed.

I immediately headed over to The Aid Station to seek the advice and support of either Jake or Jeremy. I realized a few seconds too late that I shouldn't be there, shouldn't be troubling them with my petty problems. They tried to be helpful and they were certainly friendly but I was embarrassed that I had come to them and just wanted to disappear. Standing there, a pest to their afternoon, I was fighting back tears, please don't cry, get out, quick, go. I managed to hold it together but for the rest of the week I did little running, even skipped a few planned workouts, and lost the interest to even be stressed about this race. Usually I make a huge deal of race week, but my frustration with the calf had drained me to new levels.

There's easily 40,000 words and enough to be said about Friday evening and early Saturday morning to fill its own post, but I'll sum it up by saying that there is something very special and unique that takes place at the Promise Land camp each year come late April.

The hour before the race was busy with PB&J consumption and bag balm application and the race itself began before I was truly ready. I was still standing under the pavilion fixing my hat as runners began pulling out of the camp. I started my simple stopwatch feature on my watch at least a few seconds after the race had begun, but I wasn't sure exactly how late.

I had spent some time during the week convincing myself that it was, as my friend Chelsie had told me before Masochist last fall, just a long run in the mountains with friends, but I couldn't completely wrap my head around that, I want to feel better and run strong again. Leaving the camp I was very focused on running easy  and warming the calf up nice and slowly, hoping that would be enough to keep it happy. Last year I'd run all the way to the 'End Road Maintenance' sign before having to walk, this year, I didn't make it half a mile. And for some reason the walk break just seemed to make the calf even more angry. I tried to alternate between walking and jogging but the tightening started to get intense about two miles into the race.

So little miss basket-case did exactly what some may expect of her at this point, she fell apart. I've experienced the desire to quit races before. I've wanted to donate my running shoes and pick up juggling or collecting postmarks but never this early in the race, never before the first aid station. It caught me so off-guard, this mental debacle, and all the negative swarmed me so quickly I couldn't throw up any kind of defense. Here I am, in the dark, climbing slow and painfully to the first aid station and I decide that I actually hate running. I even took it as far to assume that someone at the aid station would drive me back to the camp, because even if it was all downhill back to the car I was that through with running.

In full disclosure the resulting struggle was so nasty that I thought I might have a personality disorder, these thoughts were moving through me far faster than I was making it up that first climb, "Horton is right, you're too weak mentally to do this," (He never actually said that, but it hurt me all the same) "Why do you think you can do this? You're not going to Western States, you won't finish. Who do you think you are? Let's just quit." But then there was the side trying to get us to stay in this thing, cheering us on, "It's a long race, you can come back, hold on, hold on, it doesn't always get worse. Your calf will loosen up, you will run again. It isn't over, you still have more than a 50k to run. Deep down you are a strong runner. Just keep moving forward. Remember: 'Tree to tree'."  Some days I really don't know why I run ultras, to be alone with myself and my thoughts for all that time can be a real struggle.

I made it to the first aid station three minutes slower than last year, and went past without even stopping, I didn't trust myself to get too close to the table or the volunteers. I was with Tommy and Wade but I don't even think I spoke to them I was in such a bad place I was afraid any words I spoke would be venomous. I hiked a lot of this next section, it's hard to say if my calf was even still really tight or if the race was currently lost to my being a complete headcase. When I came across Chelsie directing people in the woods she told me I was in twenty something place for females, honestly she'd lost count, and Todd was eight minutes ahead already. You can make it up in the grassy section my optimistic side cheered. Unfortunately for Team Optimism, I was passed by another half dozen or so runners in the grassy section, the section that I usually look forward to the most.

Then, as if things couldn't get worse, I became nauseated. This was also a first for me, I had to slow and dreaded taking my second GU. When the time came to fuel I was seriously worried that consuming the GU would send my nausea over the edge, but I forced it down and waited for any repercussions. Unfortunately, the nausea remained but I didn't lose my GU. I felt like Alexander in that book about the terrible day, I considered moving to Australia. I kept looking at my watch hoping that it wasn't time to refuel yet as I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going to throw-up.

I decided that I should ask for cola at the next aid station and just began focusing on making it to there. I saw Blake and Kevin up ahead but I just couldn't convince myself to pick up the pace with the nausea. The aid station was sort of a mess when I finally arrived, there were a lot of runners at the aid station when I got there but I had to wait a long time for someone to fill up my bottle and they didn't have any soda out so I had to find the cola and a cup and the aid station was empty other than volunteers when I finally left. Turns out there had been some trouble with this aid station finding their location, but I was even more frustrated with the whole day when I left the aid station. I was running on empty. I had hoped in the previous miles that if I could catch up with and keep up with Kevin and Blake that I could take my mind off of all the mental collapsing and nausea but I was having a hard time just simply running at all yet alone trying to catch up with them.

And then, shortly after entering the White Oak Ridge trail I happened upon Lauren Brown. Lauren is a great runner that I met through the Mountain Junkies races, she is strong and competitive and in some ways she reminds me of me. I was surprised to see her. Turns out she was also suffering from stomach upset. We were both hiking, remembering this section more pleasantly from Terrapin, exchanging our day's dose of woes.  But the few minutes of conversation with Lauren did two huge things for my day. One, it awarded me that reprieve from myself that I needed to take my mind off of the rough start and nausea but more importantly it was the tangible proof that even strong runners have bad days.

For the first time all day I began to feel just the slightest ounce of strength, I left Lauren hoping sincerely that she would feel better and hoping to finally move forward with my day. I still hiked more than I felt like I should but I came across Kevin and then Blake and again these quick conversations were a gift. Shortly after passing Blake I realized we were about to cross the parkway. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero's came on the Ipod, 'That's What's Up' and the song including the lyrics "While I was feeling such a wreck, I thought of losing my mind' also helped me along.  I saw Kelly Reece and Tim Spaulding up ahead and set my sights on them. Again, these brief conversations were the highlights of this half of the race.

I ran to Sunset Fields better than I had all day but being careful not to run too hard. I met a man training for Wasatch and then came upon Blanks out taking pictures who said we were near Sunset Fields.  Tim Perry was there to offer me some aid and I was very thankful, though I may not have showered him with the appreciation I should have, it had been a long morning up until this point. I arrived to Sunset Fields about fifteen to twenty minutes slower than last year. Jared Hesse was there and I confided in him that I'd expected calf trouble but not the nausea, he encouraged me to keep drinking and eating on schedule despite the stomach trouble. I drank more cola and headed off for more descending.

I was only a few hundred yards in when I turned to see Phil Layman behind me, I didn't remember passing him and even considered him a possible hallucination on my part when he didn't come barreling past me in the following miles. It was here that I finally started to actually do some running. I passed a few groups of people and remembered chasing Todd last year through this very section, as his jersey disappeared from sight. I caught sight of Kathie up ahead once or twice but wasn't gaining on her despite my increased pace. I ran a little harder in the hopes of catching up with her. Then my left ankle turned to jelly on a rock when I was paying more attention to up ahead and not down in front through a rocky spot. I fell down for a moment, legs going in two different directions, water bottle in another. Don't get cocky, you'll catch her or you won't. The first few steps back on my feet I was anxious that I may have twisted the ankle but it appeared fine, just a momentary lapse of bone and tendon in that leg I suppose.

I navigated the creek crossings trying to focus on keeping a good pace over staying dry and I caught and passed a few more runners. Then through a technical section I caught Kathie, she told me she'd been waiting for me to chase her down ever since she'd seen me as she ran into the White Oak section. We continued to run hard and talk and then I noticed Andrew Charron up ahead. Oh yes, I whispered aloud to Kathie with no further explanation and picked up the pace just a tad bit more. Closing in on Andrew but without him even turning back to see me he said "Oh nooooo" to which I responded "YES!" And just like that a chase, a mini race, began. It was awesome, I loved all forty eight seconds of it. We came into the aid station giving high fives and joking that we were done, Andrew had just won the race. We had made the aid station in 3:22, ten minutes slower than last year. Doubling the time I realized that I wouldn't run a PR unless I ran very strong on the dark side. I grabbed more cola as my water bottle was being filled and was headed out when I saw Horton sitting in a seat with a clipboard. "So am I still 25th female?" I asked. "No, you're 15th or 16th" he answered. In a surprisingly good mood having just encountered Andrew I joked "Good only five more to track down" and away I ran. In no way did I think I would actually get into the Top 10. I was just so thankful to be somewhat enjoying myself, it is after all a long day to not find yourself enjoying even a moment.

I dislike this section, truth be told I've only run it a few times, but it just confirms my weaknesses as I struggle to maintain a decent pace on flat, easily navigable terrain. Kathie pulled ahead quickly and I envied her strength and speed. I settled into a pace that would suffice and realized that now I was having stomach troubles of a different kind, the find yourself a tree quickly kind. Andrew and Clifton Williams caught back up and we ran together but just briefly. Up ahead Kathie slowed and then we were together in a big group and I was really starting to eye every tree stump and patch of brush. Kathie said she needed a pit-stop when I finally confided in her that I needed to stop and we stopped quickly. Fortunately, the stop didn't kill too much time and we were off and running within a few minutes. I was very happy when we saw the markings for the turn into the woods a few minutes later.

Last year it was in this following section that Todd and I fell apart. I knew if I was to have any hope whatsoever of pulling the day back together I would have to run stronger through here. Kathie and I caught another female here but Andrew and Clifton pulled away. We ran with just a few walk breaks but somewhere just before the Colon Hollow aid station Kathie started to drop off. The guy ahead and I joked that it was so cruel to place this aid station at the top of such a hill this far into the race but we walked anyways, heads hung low.

I turned down the offer of ice cream and just drank a small cup of soda as my water bottle was filled. I was surprised how quickly I'd made it to this aid station and knew that the next aid station would be further than it would ever seem possible. In this next section I came across Clark Zealand running the opposite way of the race as well as a few other runners, including Andrew. I saw Randy on the road climb and he asked about Lauren and told me that Courtney was only a few hundred yards ahead of me. I was feeling better but knowing that Courtney was up ahead helped me keep up the strong pace. I saw Mike Donahue along this section and he was in a very uplifting mood even though I don't think he was running quite as well as he had hoped. At some point we were back on a grassy section and I saw Courtney.

Courtney had taken a tumble on the descent to Cornelius Creek and was bleeding. She joked that she was a klutz with a blood phobia, she seemed in pretty good spirits despite her tumble but her shirt looked as though she'd lost a fight. We hiked a ways together and I would have loved to traverse the woods longer with her but I was seriously beginning to think I could still pull a PR out of my hat if I kept up my new found race.

I started to do all sorts of mathematical equations and distances from aid stations to see if I could still pull out a PR and somewhat save the day and caught up with another group of runners just as we made it to the single-track, muddy trail that completes the loop back to Cornelius creek. And once again there was Blanks taking pictures as we crossed the poor bridge and headed to the aid station.

Headed into Cornelius creek on the out and back I was surprised to see Zach Quigg and Kristen Chang, two people who should always be much further ahead of me at this point in a race. A further reminder that even strong runners have bad days. At the aid station I was confused for a volunteer and filled up a water bottle of a runner coming down from Sunset Fields before I could begin the hike up the falls. I came into the aid station at 4:50, two minutes faster than last year. I had made up some time on the loop and was hopeful that I could climb better than last year up the falls.

I started up the falls and ran more than I ran last year in this section. I passed Kristen here, she had been suffering all day with stomach trouble and I felt really bad for her. I ran some more and caught up with the group ahead of me that included Rick Gray, Marlin Yoder and Laura Duffy. I felt okay physically but I just couldn't seem to go any faster, it was a little discouraging. I was running more than I recall running last year but wasn't really making any better time. At the falls we saw Blanks again, he ran a little ways up the trail with us taking our picture, and we joked that we had our own personal photographer. Despite feeling better I realized as we crossed back over the road we'd taken down to Cornelius creek the first time that I wasn't going to make it much faster than last year. I wondered if a PR would be at all possible but pushed ahead regardless.

My water bottle was empty and I was beginning to feel that particular tightness in my calves that signifies cramps coming on so I took two Endurolytes even though I didn't have water and hoped for the best. I absolutely love my Mountain Hardware vest, I carried everything, probably an exceeding surplus for the day, but it was lightweight and more than sufficient to carry everything for a 50k without a crew, however I probably should have carried another water bottle. Exiting the woods I found I was having a bit of a hard time walking straight. At the aid station I filled my water bottle and drank some Mountain Dew.

Photo Courtesy Blanks Blankenship

Photo Courtesy Blanks Blankenship

Looking down at my watch I realized it was 5:48, I'd climbed the falls just barely faster than last year. A tad discouraged I ran on in hopes of still fighting for a sub 6:30 finish even though my hopes were mostly dashed at this point. I ran until just past the little clearing where it becomes a hill. I should have run this hill but I also felt like I should take one last break as once I started to run again it would all be downhill and hard downhill at that. 

This next part is very simple. I was vested enough at this point that I really, really, really wanted something positive out of this day. That something was a PR, and a sub 6:30 PR if at all possible. And so I ran hard, and prayed that my calves would hold up. I have a tendency towards cramps when I try to push hard at the end of a race.  When I got to the last aid station I had nineteen minutes to run in a sub 6:30, again I didn't feel overly hopeful but I had to give it my all. At the end road maintenance sign I had fifteen minutes. I saw a guy up ahead and set the short-term goal of chasing him down. Fortunately, my legs were holding up but then I saw the bridge and glanced at my watch. I wasn't going to make 6:30. I thought about backing off the pace, but I told myself that even if I wasn't going to break 6:30 I should still give it everything to try and break that time even if I fell short. I saw the squirrel at the driveway,then Dylan Perry, then the entrance to the camp. 

Finish Line Photo Courtesy Joyce Perry

When I could finally see the clock I unexpectedly could still break 6:30, so I ran a little bit harder. They have me down as 6:29:48, I'll take it. I ran across the finish line as Horton delivered even more surprising news, I had squeaked into the overall Top 10 female finishers. I had assumed that I was further back but tenth spot in addition to just barely scraping together a sub 6:30 was, I won't lie, very nice. 

Great Group of People. Photo Courtesy Joyce Perry

The finish line was full of congratulations and that was nice but I was not overall very happy about my day, just happy for it to be over really. I was most proud of pulling through and a strong finish but there at the finish I was silently vowing never to run Promise Land again. But then as I began to compile my thoughts over the rest of the weekend for this report I kept being reminded of many things that I truly enjoyed: pitching the tent with Sam and Dennis, Wade's surprise Cherry Coke Zero, my favorite food group-pizza, the bonfire, the Gonzalez camper tour, Kelly's pre-race squeeze, talking before the race with Jamie, Lauren, Courtney, Dacia, and countless others, the dip in the creek afterwards, the sprint race with Andrew, Tim's help, Joyce's cheering, seeing out of towners like our fellow Mountain Junkies and Mike Donahue, meeting baby Roberts, Blanks all over the course taking pictures, Phil's granola, Tommy's trick to get me to wait for his burger, Sam stealing my Life Saver's and giving them to the kids, running back for Wade with Andrew and seeing Marshall out there with him, even Jeremy's little quip that I'm "Little Miss Efficiency",  there was so much more to this weekend then the run. And I decided that if I have to run through the collective suffering of a 34 mile race to get the rest of the experience than I guess that's what I'll do...besides I'd like to think there's an even faster time at the Promise Land somewhere in me.

Top Ten Patagonia bag, race shirt and finisher's shorts.

-Alexis

Today is a Gift.

If every run were like this than there would be no question. There would be no question of confidence or why I run my body into the ground.

I met Kathie at about 5:30 in the parking lot. The plan was to run a few quick miles and then meet a group assembling to preview the Bald Mountain 10k course at 6. We started down Lake Trail at a comfortable pace talking about our busy days and how we wouldn't change them for the world. We were almost at the camp when I started to tell her about Wednesday's run, I told her about our final climb the night before and then inquired Want to see it? And just like that, about-face on Lake Trail we were headed to the Radar Tower climb.

The climb was hard, but perhaps a little easier than the night before when I had seven miles already on the legs. We were two-thirds up the climb when I realized it was already 6 pm, the group would soon be starting. We picked up the pace and headed for Snoflex.

When we reached the parking lot it was five minutes after six and there was no sign of runners, we asked a pair of gentleman had they seen a group of runners. They pointed us in the right direction and we were off. Headed down Monogram we didn't see any runners or even a sign that there was a fun run occurring.  But Kathie picked up the pace in pursuit and I fell in the best that I could, remarking that this was my race pace.  Which is true, I am after all an ultra runner. Reaching the base of the Monogram we saw Josh Yeoman and a few runners. Pleased that we were on the right path we didn't slow but hammered the whole way down to Five Points.

It was in this descent that I found my legs.

For weeks, going on months I've been waiting for a run like this. When it happens, and you feel it happening, it's best to realize how lucky you are and just go with it.

We started to happen upon more and more participants and I started in on the chase. If you know me, than you'll know there is just about nothing I like more than a good chase, I realized then that starting at the back of a fun run is a perfect way to play this favorite game of mine.

The course was well marked and had a number of aid stations, just like a race and the game was even more fun this way. A few times I slowed, to make sure Kathie's ankle was okay when she turned it, to recover on a long climb, to talk to Craig about his injuries and new orthotics, but there were a few times where we turned it up and ran like Cheetahs (or so I'd like to think). But instead of pressure of performance I ran with intense enjoyment, a child-like energy pulsating through me.

At one point Kathie told me that I was a strong runner and she came across so honest that I knew she meant it. Better yet, for the first time in a long while, I felt it.

We played hard through to the end and afterwards I had a hard time pulling myself away from the wonderful community of friends and extended family I have made. I could have stood around until dark enjoying their company. I came away from the evening's run recharged, a reminder of so many things I treasure about running; the people, the trails, the power these legs can employ on a good day, on a good run.

-Alexis

Good Enough?

Here I was thinking I was healed and on the upward turn. Despite being well aware that I wasn't invincible and that injury beckons I was hoping that I could finally proceed with my training when I started out on Sunday's Promise Land training run. I had begrudgingly agreed to start at the camp with Todd. To be fair, I never actually voiced my opinion about leaving from the camp, but I wasn't in love with the idea, wasn't 'feeling it'. Most of the group assembled for the run were driving to the location of aid station one to avoid this very climb. Within a half mile my calves, both the generally angry one and the amiable one, started to tighten. I continued to run for a ways before I finally had to succumb to walking.

And walk I did. As the car loads of smarter individuals drove past, Andrew loudly but playfully wondering why someone who loves hills wasn't running while encountering one. Horton inquiring if we knew our way. Sam and Frank passing by like we were standing still, actually maybe we were at that moment. Todd, understandably frustrated at my hike, suggested we call it a day and head back to the car. I wouldn't even entertain the idea, I'm nothing if not entirely stubborn, I wasn't going to turn tail and run back to the car, miserable or not I was moving forward. I encouraged, nearly begged, Todd to just leave me and move forward with his run. Being a dedicated spouse and an all around nice guy he refused to leave me while I was not only the last runner, but now a good twenty minutes behind the group who had started at the top of the hill.

Truth is I was over-brimming with anger and embarrassment. Hating my weak and softened legs and a reputation I don't deserve and bewildered by the sudden flare up in the legs after a solid weak of good runs and the three rest days preceding this run. You should have run this defeating hill before submitting your application, Fool. That's right, you want that silly sweater, crawl on then. It went on like this, the down and out self pep talk that really wasn't, well past the end state maintenance sign when I finally saw a runner up ahead. Once again I encouraged Todd to run on, I wanted to be left to thoroughly wallow in self-pity and degradation.

With the promise that I would survive, he left me shortly after the turn onto single track. I think he thought I would pick up the pace as soon as he left but I just continued to walk, even after the calves had started to quiet down I continued on hiking, not wanting to catch the couple of guys ahead of me in such a funk of disappointment.

I walked, hiked and ran the eighteen plus miles like it was my job, not the hobby that I hold near and dear. The highlight of the entire run was coming upon Bethany Williams on the White Oak Ridge, where were you during Terrapin my dear lady, there is nothing more that I love than a good chase up a hill, but then she was behind me and I was left to my own devices once again, more demeaning self talk but now with sweat in my eyes.

I caught up with Kelly and Nicole at Horton's truck parked at Sunset Fields but I was terrible company I'm sure and when we arrived back at the first aid station I ran on through still having to make my way back down to my car. Knowing that we were behind on time and just wanting to be over with the run I ran this section somewhat hard. Unfortunately, it seemed to take as long running down as it had going up, I was thankful to finally pass the squirrel silhouette edging a driveway, the sign that the run was virtually over. Arriving back at the camp I'm sure I was a ray of sunlight, I hurried Joe and Todd into the car, happy to have this most blah feeling run over with.

And I thought that is where the humility would end, with the run accomplished I thought I could move on, but then I came home to record said training run.

Turns out, last year, the week before Promise Land, we did this very same run. Except it was cold and rainy and yet a full four minutes faster.

You're probably asking yourself: Seriously, Alexis, you're going to sob about four minutes? 

Yes. Yes, I am.

At this point I've been running long enough to have a certain expectation that comes from prior accomplishment and performance. I'm of the mindset that I should always be improving, getting better and yet now I'm beginning to wonder if I've been running long enough now (about three years) that I'm plateauing. Wondering if I've gotten as good as I'll get. Despite the fact that I have been injured I still feel as though I should be improving. There are good arguments I've been trying to make, for one I didn't remember or know how long last year's run had taken me, had I known, realized it was a competition with myself, maybe I could have run faster. Instead I'm realizing that my training before Holiday Lake carried me through Terrapin, I'm now feeling those six weeks of injury, the lack of intensity of any kind, the complete absence of road running or quicker leg turnover. The four minutes is just a small thing in the grand scheme, but all the proof I need to suggest I won't PR this year at Promise Land, that I'll be lucky to run what I ran last year. Instead of getting back to real training I am finding myself focusing on my weaknesses, I'm lazy, anxious, pessimistic and doubtful. An all around head case if you will. (This is where you might whisper to yourself, like I sometimes do, poor Todd.)

Really struggling in the confidence and morale department. Wishing I could borrow the opinion some others seem to have of me, borrow a little confidence too.

I think it all stems from the fact that I have never felt good enough.

When I was all of about nine years old I compiled a handful of poems I'd penned, typed them up on our word processor, printed and stapled them together. One afternoon my father who had apparently stumbled across the project titled "Lexi's Limericks" came to me with the booklet in hand and asked me where I had copied the poems from. This was the nature of compliments I remember from my childhood, the praise was present but hidden in the fact that my poems would be good enough to bring my father to think I'd plagiarized them.

Skip ahead a few years, my parents separated and me taking it quite poorly skipped school quite a bit in my eighth grade year. There was a bit of attention seeking in this I'm sure in hindsight. One particular day my gym class ran the mile as part of the presidential fitness requirements while I was out playing in the woods with two other neighborhood kids who had also run from the bus stop. Turns out unlike dissecting a frog, skipping this day of school didn't free me from partaking entirely in the event. I had to go out and run the mile with another student who had been absent with my gym teacher timing us. Unlike previous years, when I had walked in an act of defiance with my friends, I fell in behind the other student making up the mile. I ran right behind her, just watching her feet as we ran our loops around the gravel track. When we were finished I'd run just over eight minutes for the mile, not fast, but surprising for my little rebel self. The gym teacher asked me a series of questions, why did I always goof off, why didn't I try, and suggested that I could even run track if I wanted to, if I cared enough to try. I, taken aback and a tad proud, went to my father as a sounding board and told him the teacher thought I could run track. To which he responded that I couldn't just decide as a high school freshman that I wanted to run track, that it was pretty much too late for me. This was the extent of my running until three years ago.

This isn't to say my parents screwed me up, I mean they did, but I turned out normal enough and heck I'm probably screwing my kids up right now with something I'm doing, not doing, said yesterday, etc. It's what parents do, we screw up our kids, at least it's what we get blamed for. Besides, I'm quite at peace in the knowledge that we are all imperfect and I believe that my dad did the best that he could, he probably thought he was protecting me from disappointment or potential failure. In fact it's this opinion that I'm so imperfect that I believe holds me back, I'm so wrapped up in my imperfections that I fail to see that even though I may never be perfect I can be better than I am.

Lately when I pass runners while I'm driving I wonder Are they running hard? Could they run faster? Are they having fun? And I realized today while I was doing this, that really it's as though I'm asking these questions of myself. On Sunday morning, before the Promise Land run I told Todd that I really want, more than anything, to be sustainable. I want to be running for years and years to come. However, even though that's what I want the most, I still really want to be good, keep improving, to someday feel within, that I'm good enough.

-Alexis

Between Valleys and Peaks

Have you ever had the flu or a cold and missed so desperately the ability to breath through your nose? Just hoping to wake up tomorrow and feel good, no headaches or fever? For the past almost two months I have just so severely missed the ability to run comfortably without pain. Dreaming that the next run would be accompanied by relief, result in real enjoyment. Instead, solo runs were spent convincing myself to take another step, yet easy and cautiously. Group runs were spent aching for what others were doing so effortlessly, praying that the tightness would slacken in that weak and angry calf, that some day I would in fact feel good again.

The week before Terrapin I could sense the pain was departing though the leg lacked quite a bit of strength. Then the week after Terrapin I got sick, this along with my new approach on recovery and rest, forced me to take the whole week off with the exception of a slow run with the Wednesday group where everyone was up for a pedestrian's pace.

Saturday, squeezed between Easter egg hunts and family dinner plans, I ran solo at Candler's. The entire run my leg felt good. I kept the run short and ran a recovery pace but it was the first run in six weeks that didn't require a long warm-up or result in muscle cramping or tightness. It was like the world's best gift.

Yesterday, a group met at Candler's. Mike Donahue, one of our original weekly Wednesday night participants, was in town and had arranged a trail run. A large group took off out Panama from the parking lot and before I even realized it and without consideration I was running fast. When the heart began to suggest that the pace was one I wasn't really trained for I offered the compromise that I would only continue that sprightly pace until we reached the camp.

There was a great deal of rapture wound up in this run, in the fact that I was able to run among the friends I've longed to run with over my injury. That I was, in the simplest definition, just running. My legs felt fine, they carried me well. I was grateful for the chance to play in the woods, to play chase, run unfamiliar trails. I knew a mile in that I was having the best run of the past several weeks, but miles later when we began to visit more hilly sections I felt a solid strength that has just been absent from my runs for far too long. I was running hills. Have I told you lately that I love hills? I may not be great at them but they empower me, they force all of my being to compile our strength and work together. There's accomplishment awaiting every hill I run, a certain satisfaction that fuels me, nourishes the desire to feel strong, powerful, healthy.

Running up Peak to Peak my calves were working hard to get me to the top. There was a pain, but it wasn't the crippling, fear drawing kind but rather the kind that suggests weakness being pushed aside to make room for strength to come. For someone who suffers at times from a severe self-confidence deficit there was great reward in feeling simply capable.

I know I must remain cautious, that I could very easily go out and do something stupid and end up all too soon on the injured list once more, but yesterday, I felt like my old self a little. I felt at home.

-Alexis

Terrapin Mountain 50k Race Report: Alexis

Terrapin 50k
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Big Island, Virginia

The past few weeks have had me simultaneously nursing a puzzling injury and trying not to entirely lose the base I've worked so hard to build over the first part of the year. Monday I was reading Sophie Speidel's blog and was making mental notes on how to race Terrapin, an event that has eluded me the past two years. However, Wednesday evening's run had me so down and out when the calf started up a mile in that I was back to just hoping to finish Terrapin. With two weeks off following Holiday Lake followed by four weeks of barely running, my training consisted of a handful of Wednesday and Saturday trail runs with a Tuesday or Thursday thrown in for good measure. My 'training' was only about pulling through my injury and I decided, after Wednesday's confidence beating run, that I was training through Terrapin. My goals were simple; to finish but listen to my body and maintain any pain within the 'run through' limits.

Friday I was a little out of sorts. I wasn't nervous like usual with the usual questions, who would beat me, how strong a field is it going to be? I was so worried that the pain in my calf would make it difficult to finish. I was literally wallowing in some of the lowest amounts of self-esteem I can remember. Then I happened across Jennifer Nichols status update on Facebook, she had posted a quote "The body achieves what the mind believes." I instantly knew there was truth, yet challenge, in that statement. How could I perform whatsoever at Terrapin if I didn't even believe that I could? Remember what you told yourself earlier this year Alexis, tell yourself what can be and make it happen.

Saturday morning saw me quite calm. I wasn't worried any longer. I had a simple plan but vowed to even throw it out at any time the day suggested. Once again we were late in arriving but we were able to say a few quick hellos to friends. I ate one Strawberry Banana GU, two Pepto Bismol, two Electrolyte tablets and a few Vitamin I as I waited for the start.

Before Holiday Lake, after I had cheerfully spread the news about Dennis offering to crew me, my sister had texted me, "Why have you never asked me to crew you?" I laughed, I smiled. Honestly, I didn't think she would want to, but I called her up and made plans for Terrapin. I told her she could only crew at Goff mountain AS unless she was willing to hike up to Camping Gap. She said she was up for it and we made plans for her to come out, cheer for me and crew me. I had completely forgotten however about the creek crossing on the way to Camping Gap something Todd told her about minutes before the start, in my defense I had given her an out when I called her the day before, doing my best to scare her away with claims of cold temps and steep ascents, but we both knew I wanted her there. Sometimes my family can seem a little disconnected from what I do and it was nice to have her familiar face out there and also be able to share a glimpse of ultra running with her.

I had decided because I was 'training through' Terrapin to leave my Garmin at home. Todd was even surprised by this, "you don't want to look at your splits later?" he'd asked. Knowing myself well I knew I wouldn't be able to hold with my plan of not racing wearing it, I did however have on my simple Ironman Timex watch so that I could keep some track of time.

I knew from training runs over the past few weeks that my calf is worse the first few miles of every run and when I try to push my pace. I knew I would need to take it very conservatively those first few miles Saturday morning or end up suffering the whole day, and possibly not even finish. Run smart, listen to your body I reminded myself at the start line.

Running from the Sedalia Center I started in the far back of the pack, but as we got on the road I would start talking to people and just fall into their pace. As we turned onto Reed Creek Road I was talking to Brenton Swyers and Andrew Charron, we were joking about my love for hills when my calf started to question what I was doing. I would have liked nothing more than to run up to Camping Gap with them but I had to listen to my leg. I bid them farewell and took to walking. And I walked and walked and was passed by droves of runners, this is usually quite difficult for me, so I reminded myself that it was important to let the leg warm up. I turned on my iPod and settled into the best hike pace I could. Fortunately, a great deal of my training over the past few weeks has been hiking, something I've always been quite poor at, I was happy to see that my hike felt comfortable but productive.

I had given myself an hour to Camping Gap. In life, I am a deadlines or distractions type, if I don't have a time goal, no matter how arbitrary, I can get incredibly unfocused. I set about doing what felt the most comfortable, not looking at my watch, and just hoping that it would be about an hour. I took a second GU and drank water. Then, shortly after the GU, my leg told me I could run again. It was awesome, it felt so good. I started to run and I was passing all of these people who were walking, which I took as a reminder to keep erring on the side of caution. At one point I passed my friend Freda who was doing the half, she said she thought I was long gone and I told her I needed to start slow (because of my calf). Someone up ahead turned and said "Sophie?" "No," I responded, "but thanks for the compliment." I was feeling stronger and stronger the farther we went and was gaining confidence in my plan.

I made it to Camping Gap the first time in 56:33, I was quite pleased. I filled up my water bottle at the aid station and headed off into the back loop, the part of the course I had not run other than the parts that are in Hellgate. Again, remembering Sophie's blog, I took the five mile descent very easy, several people passed me but I didn't let that bother me.

This section, while downhill, was very monotonous and near the bottom, where it levels out I started to get burnt out on all the road running. Then I had a wardrobe malfunction, my GU that I usually sandwich between two sports bras kept falling out and I would have to stop and pick them up. I ended up having to stick them in the first bra, pressed against my skin, this wasn't very comfortable. I'm going to need to plan something else for future long runs and races. I hadn't run on roads since Holiday Lake, it is not my favorite thing, and I started to get a little mentally bogged down here.

When we got to the turn on Goff Mountain I was thankful, in a way, that we were about to start climbing. I thought I saw Jeff Martin ahead, I ran and walked to catch up with him, we ran a short ways together and I ran on but with the burnout a little less after a quick chat with a friend. Then up ahead, I thought I saw Brenton and Andrew, this definitely raised my spirits and I ran and hiked at intervals to slowly catch up with them. When Andrew caught sight of me he said "Nooooooo" while I simultaneously cheered "I looooove hillllllllls!" I ran with them a ways before pushing on. I had just started walking again when I saw Blake and Kevin up ahead.

Usually, at races, I never get to talk with people, I'm all 'head down on a mission' so to speak. Saturday I enjoyed the brief conversations with friends as much as anything else. Blake had fallen just as he had started the descent down Hunting Creek Road and was pretty banged up. I felt bad that such an unforeseen moment could quickly change the kind of day you were having. I used this as a reminder to be thankful for each relatively pain-free moment. Blake had news of Todd, he said he'd passed Blake's mom getting onto the single track about 41st place and looking good. Blake and Kevin were about 110th when they'd passed by his mom a few minutes later.

Thrilled that we were on single track I ran on up ahead, this section was quite runnable. I hiked a few uphills and took some of the steep switchbacks carefully but overall really began to enjoy myself, the first time all day. Coming out of the single track I passed a huge group that had been crowded together on the trail now all stopped at the aid station, I took this opportunity to gain another dozen spots. I'll  be honest, there were a couple times throughout the day, like at this moment, that is was really very hard not to be racing.

I settled back into intervals split between hiking and running. I had given myself the arbitrary time of two hours to do this back section but my lack of running uphill over the past six weeks made that a challenge. I did mourn the race that could have been slightly and settled into running the best that I could for the day. After a mile or so of uphill I saw Grattan Garbee up ahead, his tie-dye compression sleeves gave him away. He was running and hiking the hill same as me and it took a few minutes to catch up with him, at one sharp switchback he looked back at me and I gave him a mischievous wave to suggest I was coming for him. We ran a few minutes together, he said he was glad to see I was running smart and he said he was feeling really good himself.

Near the top I realized I wasn't going to run this section in two hours but it would be close and that wasn't too bad for some arbitrary goal I had set, not knowing what to expect from my leg or lack of earnest training. The top of Hunting Creek Road was steep and as I climbed I ate another GU and two more Electrolyte tablets. I reached Camping Gap the second time in 2:59. My sister ran over and swapped bottles with me and handed me two GU, she seemed a bit frazzled and cold and I felt bad that she would only see me a minute or two the entire day but was glad she was there. She said I was tenth female which delighted me as I felt that I had been running very smart and comfortable. I passed by Horton in his truck who asked how I was doing, he'd seen me at the start and I had told him I was just training through Terrapin which I sensed disappointed him. I told him my sister thought I was tenth and I was pretty content with that. I wondered if that too was a disappointment but didn't take it to heart, just ran on through and into the WHOR loop.

On Thursday the WHOR loop had seemed so difficult as we had marked the course, it was yet another confidence depleting run. However, on Saturday as I crossed paths with the front runners and was feeling warmed up and comfortable it didn't seem nearly as bad. I kept waiting for the calves to tighten and rebel on the climbs but they never did. Now this is by no means to say that I ran the whole thing, I walked a great deal of this loop but I also ran more than I thought I might which wasn't too bad. I started to feel that I was running really smart for me, I was feeling great and with no real pressure was actually having a good time. Then I passed another female, which excuse me for this, always feels nice.

I had to wait in a short line to punch my bib at the top of the WHOR loop and I laughed inside, good thing I'm not racing today and then cruised down the other side. I passed only one runner on the downhill, I was taking this section conservatively because I feared the trail was possibly slick after slipping on Thursday. Approaching the bottom of the loop I saw Brenton, "Your hubby's only eight minutes ahead of you." This too excited me, I wasn't hopeful that he was having a bad day only that my day was going better than I had originally planned.

Running back to Camping Gap I felt amazing. My legs felt good, I still had a good deal of energy and I was excited about the prospect of having a better than planned day. I passed runners going into the WHOR loop, cheering them on and saying hello to my friends. Their encouraging words in response only drove me on harder, it was seriously the highlight of my day. Funny, I'd really dreaded the WHOR loop, hadn't even given myself a time goal because I didn't want to be disappointed and it turned out to be a pretty good section of the day.

I came back into Camping Gap at 3:58, I had run the WHOR loop in 59 minutes, I was quite pleased. I stopped to swap bottles with my sister and grab a few more GU. I talked to Blanks Blankenship who ran up the trail to take my picture. I was leaving when an AS worker said "Great job, you look really fresh." I said thank you to the person and acknowledged inwardly that I felt really fresh. Just up ahead I saw Phil Layman and Jenny Nichols. This surprised me, I would never have thought that I would catch up with Jenny or Phil. After a quick hello they pulled ahead on the climb to summit Terrapin. I slowed, remembering what I had read, climb Terrapin smooth and relaxed. I ate a GU, two Electrolyte tablets and three Tums. I drank water and focused on not letting the heart stress about the climb. Before long we were at the summit, punching our bibs and on our way to Fat Man's Misery.

Photo courtesy Blanks Blankenship

Jenny let me pass on the downhill, she said she wasn't as strong on the downhill. I usually am not, especially this particular section, but I was feeling really good. Phil stayed behind me until Fat Man's Misery where he got to witness me literally fall into the crevice between the two boulders that make up this obstacle on the course.  Ouch! Both my elbows and my bottom felt that. I was a little disoriented coming out the other side and was thankful another runner was just through the other side and reminded us to punch our bibs.

In the Rock Garden I encouraged Phil to pass me but I tried to stay with him as best I could. I ran this section between Fat Man's Misery and the AS at Terrapin Lane as fast as I ever have and even passed one more female along the way. Since the beginning I had been telling myself that if I felt good at Terrapin Lane I would run hard from there to the finish. All day I had seen this as a good option to make up some time and get a little racing in. When I got to the AS there at Terrapin lane I was happy to see Dennis Coan and Charlie Peele. I handed my hat and gloves off to Dennis and asked for salt tablets. Dennis said he had some in his car but I told him that wasn't necessary. A volunteer offered me salted popcorn instead, I took a big handful and asked about Todd as I headed out. "He's fifteen minutes ahead of you," Dennis said. Knowing I would never catch him I headed on in the hopes of running a strong finish.

Two bites of popcorn later and I immediately started to have the sensation that worms were travelling through my right calf, my injured, listen closely to me, calf. With no electrolyte tablets left and not wanting to ruin what had become a pretty good day I decided, on the slow uphill climb back to the Terrapin Ridge trail that I needed to take it easy and avoid cramping. Despite how the rest of me felt, which was pretty good, I couldn't risk cramping. I walked the uphill back from the AS and then some of the turn once I was on the single track trail. I was a little disheartened. I felt so good but I didn't know why I had just experienced that strange calf sensation and I just couldn't risk it, especially when I was supposed to be 'training through' Terrapin.

Then I realized something even more foolish. Despite what must have been my longest stop of the day at the AS at Terrapin lane I hadn't filled my water bottle up. It only had a few ounces left in it. I was feeling nervous, really hoping to keep the cramps at bay. Shortly after I had another wave of cramps so I ended up eating another GU, my ninth for the day, only about 20 minutes after my last one and drank the rest of the water in my bottle. Fearing I still had a few miles left and with the sun warming up for the day I stopped and filled my water bottle at a stream crossing. It tasted fine though so I nursed it as I weaved in and out on this section of winding trail. I looked back at one point and saw no one behind me, I really wanted to run this section harder but the cramps had me scared. I didn't enjoy this section, usually one of my favorites, as much as I would have liked because of the fear of the unknown and cramping.

When I saw Reed Creek I was very excited, I hadn't had any cramps for a few minutes and figured I had less than two miles left. I ran the downhill section well if not slightly fast. When I arrived at the turn off of Reed Creek road however, I could feel the lack of speed training and road running over the past month and a half on the mostly flat section. I also had a twinge of cramping on the road so I ran easy due to that as well. When I passed Todd less than quarter mile to the finish he reached for my water bottle, just then the Mountain Goats came on my iPod. I smiled a great big smile. Fearing further cramping if I tried to sprint in the finish I took it easy and coasted across the finish line in 5:39.

Overall for my current level of training, which has consisted of an average pace of over 11 minute miles, I feel I had a very good day on Saturday. I would have liked very much to not have muscle cramps the last few miles but even despite this I feel I ran a very smart and conservative race. I didn't surge at any time during the day, I carried out what fueling plans I had made and I listened to my body, backing off when there was pain or cramping. Even though I didn't push it per se, Terrapin is still a really tough course. My body was sore afterwards and my elbow tender and bruised.

I ended up finishing 50th overall and there is a part of me that wonders how I would have done if I'd been strong and healthy this past month, able to train efficiently and race well. Or if I'd been able to keep cramps completely at bay. At the same time, I finished well enough that I wonder how much better I would have even ran if better trained. My goal in January had been to run Terrapin in sub 5:30, I was only 9 minutes off of that time. Oh well, maybe next year.

Very thankful for all the friends I have met through ultra running, and their encouragement and support. It is always fun to see friends out on the race course. I am very thankful my sister was out there on Saturday, she isn't sold on ultra running but I think it may have opened her eyes a little to what we do, though her opinion that we are in fact crazy may have only become more etched in her mind. And of course, a big thank you to the Aid Station for letting me be a part of their running team this year.

-Alexis

Convalescing in Apprehension

The consideration that his claim may have no basis in fact made no difference. His words had already been swallowed by my ears and were being digested by my brain.

"You could have run sub 5:30, you're faster than me... Maybe next year."

Maybe.

Of course, I could do any number of stupid things between now and then. But for now the state of things is that my poor choices and obsessive personality have once again conjoined to do me in, the race that could have been will no longer be, not this year.

But the race will go on and I'm swimming in a sea of questions; Am I? Is it? How can we? How can we not?
Will I race, any race, at Terrapin?

Believing that I may in fact be on the mend, but still suffering from slight weakness, tightening, I am afraid of every step I take but just as afraid to not take these steps. Wondering if it weren't this muscle, would it just be that knee? This foot? Will there always be some lump in my throat, some damaging fear in my arsenal?

And which race are we even really talking about, is it the one looming in six days or the one that beckons closer every day, arriving the last weekend in June? I'm so frightened, have been ever since the morning after Hellgate when I was properly rested and first allowed the effects of my whimsical decision to drop my name in the lottery to take hold, I'd signed up for and subsequently been chosen for a race I fear I've no real place to partake in. More questions in the sea of what's to be; Can I? Will I?

I've most likely been given a once in a lifetime shot, you don't just walk away even if you're riddled with fear, even the crippling, fatiguing fear of failure. All I need is a chorus of "Not you, not now, not ever" to complete the scene, my utter lack of self-confidence versus the need to prove myself, which will overcome? And there are other fears, pulling and pushing in every direction. The fear of regret. The fear of being seen as reckless, stupid, foolhardy. The fear of disappointment.

I digress, though parallels in my mind, the focus, at the moment, is on Terrapin.

Terrapin is less than a week away, I intend to participate, to complete the 50k. Neither fast or slow I don't see myself as particularly talented, I am just a runner with a profound competitive drive and a little bit of heart to match. I'm in no place to win or set speed records, but I'm driven to compete in next weekend's event for a handful of reasons, but namely, simply because I want to.

Scratch that, upon further reflection the word I mean to use, is need. I need to go out next weekend. I need to know for my own sake and satisfaction that I can be smart, run easy, listen to my body and manage any pain within the 'run through' limits. I need this experience. Understanding that I may in fact do further damage or be seen as stupid is not enough to compel me to change my mind. The stronger other's argument that I shouldn't may become the more the need to becomes, you're pushing me into the arms of my star crossed love with every well aimed criticism. Might you know me better than I know myself? I desire this finish in a way words would fail to convey, in a manner that is felt but cannot be described.

Not running would take me out of the LUS but that weighs ultimately rather low, I know I'm not trained to run like I was hoping and that my personality is such that I may face great effort in overcoming the inability to race. Truth is, I can't even promise I won't shift into race gear should the leg give me the green light. However, I am struggling not with the decision to race but with the opinion I am gathering is forming now that  I've decided to go through with the race. People whose advice I do respect but don't necessarily want to follow, the fact that there are people who think I am foolish, stupid. The looming "I told you so's" should I further injure myself or fail to finish. Between the draw of the race and fear of your disappointment I'm once again drowning in doubt and self-loathing.

But you see, I know me. I know my own regrets and what I don't regret is any race I've ever run, because I know how they turned out, I know what I put into them, what I got out of them. Even that 5k at Liberty several weeks back, I honestly hold no regret, I know I made the choice and there was no other way it could have gone. I gave it everything I could and to my crazy, delusional self there is success of a certain nature in that. There is a whisper, it is telling me I have to give Terrapin a try. I have to see how it all turns out. Maybe I won't finish, maybe I'll have to quit, but then I will know that I couldn't finish, that I had to quit.

More than ever before it may just be that the odds are in favor of failing and in my own mind, I need to test the waters and risk how the failing may feel in order to go forward with Western States.

-Alexis

Race Report: Frozen Toe 10k (Alexis)

Isn't there some saying, 'Third time's the charm' or something to that effect? I am great at butchering idioms, so perhaps there isn't. This past weekend was my third attempt at the Mountain Junkies Frozen Toe 10k held the first weekend of January in Roanoke on the Chestnut Ridge Loop. In 2011 I ran it for the first time, the course was snow covered and I started out fast, possibly too fast, and fell apart shortly after the halfway point. The race, in the simplest terms, went something like this: I started out too fast, even ahead of Todd, I met a hill halfway, I admitted defeat, I began walking, Todd passed me, I groveled for a few more hundred feet, I started running again, realized it wasn't so bad, picked up the pace even more but too late, finished third overall female. I returned to the Chestnut Ridge Loop in 2012 when I ran the 10k just two months postpartum, I settled on walk breaks before the start and knowing I was still recovering and returning to fitness, ran it conservatively. It was a pretty good day, I didn't fall apart like in 2011, but it was decidedly slower than the year before. This year I knew I could and rather should be able to run it faster, but I was considerably unsure of how fast.

In the week or two before the event I analyzed the data; course records and registrants, previous finishing times and similar events. It is my goal to focus less on these details as the year unfolds, but I take pleasure in the specifics. I love numbers and statistics, graphs and grids. Where as I look to better myself by focusing more on my own training this year, I would be lying to say I will leave Ultra Signup or race result pages alone, I just enjoy it too much. I want to be better but I don't expect to change the very core of my being.  I'll sum it up by saying I knew Courtney and Lauren would be there and that they'd both won it previously including the setting of a course record last year by Courtney. I wholeheartedly thought I stood no chance, I decided a sub 50 would be all it would take to make it a good day and found peace in this goal. With a babysitter lined up, a clean pair of Zensah sleeves and a rereading of past years journal recaps I was ready for the first event of the year.

Saturday morning went smoothly. I was happy to be sharing this event with my sister Erin who has recently committed to running a marathon this year. She rode to Roanoke with us, along with Blake, a past participant of the RNUTS but a newbie to this event as well. We weren't as early as I had hoped but we did make it to New Hope Christian Church, the event headquarters, in time to get a one mile warm-up in.

Mountain Junkies events are fundamental on my race calendar because of what they mean to me as a trail runner. The presenters of the second trail event I ever participated in, they are what addicted me to trails. Their events have come to feel more like family reunions perhaps than races, attendants feeling more like distant cousins than competitors, an 'I haven't seen you in a while, how have you been?' feeling permeates the air. Such an awesome, inspiring group of people. They offer a competitive series of races but with a friendly, caring overtone that is welcoming and supportive of all ability levels.

But then there were those jackets. This year overall top male and female winners would be receiving a Mountain Hardware jacket from event sponsor The Aid Station. Courtney, upon seeing me, inquired whether or not I had 'touched' the jacket. Gina did too. I touched the jacket, figuring it would be the closest to the jacket I would come. In retrospect, I don't think I really went into the Frozen Toe hungry enough. I had my time goal, I assumed defeat beforehand. Honestly, I don't think I can interpret my training or fitness level enough to know how I should be able to perform. And I don't really know how to 'race' although I enjoy the opportunity to learn. As much as I race you would think I had it all figured out, but I don't, not yet.

And to top it off I think my expectations exceed my abilities and so even when I aim to remain calm, keeping the nerves in check, it is almost impossible when the clock starts ticking towards the start of any event. Standing there, listening to the race briefing minutes before the start, Todd looked over at me and asked about the location of my bib. I looked down to find I had neglected that important step. I sprinted to the car to find it, this jaunt convinced me for some reason to also leave behind my hat, gloves and water bottle. I did suck down a GU. I reached the starting line and instantly regretted the leaving behind of my gloves. I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and hoped my body would warm up once we started moving.

The race began and I aimed to stay in sight of Todd and Courtney. They flew on the road section that led to the trail entrance and I slowed just a bit. I suffer from a fear of burning out. I don't know how to exert enough energy to run the best possible for a certain distance yet not hard enough to bonk, this is particularly true for everything under a half marathon distance. Jeremy Ramsey suggested this comes from running Ultras.  I let Todd and Courtney pull slightly ahead but picked up the effort on that initial climb, I stayed behind Courtney but Todd began to pull away. I ran right behind Courtney for the first mile or so with Todd's green Masochist finishers shirt still vaguely in sight on long open stretches of trail.

I had vowed at the start not to look at my Garmin watch, but rather run by feeling in the hopes that would include running a sub 50. Yet I also wanted to stay with Todd or Courtney, especially after the race began and neither pulled away instantly. I was running hard to stay with Courtney but I also knew I could run even harder. With Todd no longer visible I decided, rather hesitantly, to pass Courtney.

The first half of this course, or rather the first 2.75, always seems fast and somewhat easy. In the past it has been the second half that breaks me. When I came to the downhill that leads to the water stop I braced myself, let words of encouragement flow through my mind and body. It was a lesser goal of mine to not succumb to walking as I had done both previous years. When the hill that always does me in appeared I was ready, slow down if need be, shorten your stride but don't walk I told myself. I appeared to be gaining on Todd. At one particularly sharp switchback he was close enough to shout words of encouragement at me. However, I think I was close enough to make him pick up the pace as well because it wasn't too long after he seemed to be building the gap. There seemed to be more climbing then I remembered but I was also feeling pretty good. I hadn't seen Lauren in a long while, I knew she had it won, but I also couldn't see Courtney behind me in the switchbacks. I may have slowed down here. My Garmin suggests it, Todd's lead suggests it, the kick I had at the finish line suggests it. I had a runner right in front of me whom I could have passed but I didn't. I forgot how quick 10k's are, that like 5k's there really isn't any room to make up time lost.

When we emerged from the trail just a few hundred feet from the finish line I knew I had not given it all that I had in me. With the event clock in sight I sprinted towards and past the finishing line, beyond pleased with my time (47:47) but knowing I had too much left to say it was my best effort.

When Courtney crossed the finish moments later we prepared ourselves to hit the loop a second time, a matter we'd arranged in the prior week. Todd, Blake and Lauren accompanied us. It was perhaps my high of the day, to run those trails a second time with the other top females, my spouse and my friend. Call it a cool down, it was a welcome  affair to run with these strong runners with the competitive air completely absent, to enjoy our sport together. The second loop further suggested I could have run the race faster, I find  solace in this, that I've still room to improve, still growth left to occur.

-Alexis