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

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

2013 Goals and Resolutions

Yesterday morning we went on our first run of the year. A run in the mountains on the beautiful, yet snow and ice covered, Terrapin course. It was a group run but I found myself alone for a fair amount of it, being one of the slower runners in attendance. While I sauntered through the chilly air and icy terrain I let my mind wander to thoughts about the new year. Since I began running in the fall of 2009 I have ached to be faster, sometimes quite literally after punishing my body for its limitations with particularly grueling training runs. It should come as no surprise for it is no secret that I am competitive. It is always with me, the desire to be stronger, faster, fitter.

However, despite the attraction to be all that I can be, I am by nature lazy and take procrastination to levels unprecedented. Though easily inspired and it's true when on task my determination can be hard to rival, I often take the easy route. Rest days are as numerous as excuses, and despite knowing that I want so much more for myself I am often halfhearted in the carrying out of my training plans.

There has been some suggestion to how much better I could be, if I could focus and commit. Drink more water, run more consistently, be more in-tune with my body. And where as I know I want it, I just don't know how badly. I realized yesterday in the mountains that I'm always comparing both my accomplishments and shortcomings to other people. The self-proclaimed Data Queen I compare myself to others times and accomplishments. I thought this was the way it should be done. And yet yesterday I began to wonder, how much better could I be if I really did just focus in on me?

In the weeks since Hellgate I have become secretly despondent about my race, especially about my time. People have quite generously congratulated me on my effort, my place and my time. And yet I struggle, the words of Gwen Stefani echoing within "I'm just a girl", my sex a handicap I can't evade. Is this my future? To be plagued no matter how good I become, with thoughts of just how far I've still left to go and yet possibly never reach? On this current path angst is certain to become my new best friend. Yesterday with my mind clearer then the day's skies I think I finally reached resolution. I'm tired of apologizing, even if only inwardly, for the things I cannot change.

There will always be someone better. There will always be someone who is more experienced, smarter, less injury prone, faster, younger... The most I can hope for myself is to be, as cliche as it may sound, the best that I can be. It is essential that I stop comparing myself and start qualifying myself. It is to this effect that I aim in the weeks and months to come to mend my mindset, to recalibrate the reasoning and the desired outcomes. There may always be someone better but why not continually strive to be exceptional? Whatever the outcome it's bound to make the adventure more worthwhile.

I could list off the numerous accomplishments I would love to see reached by years end, personal bests and record distances, but I honestly don't see the need.  Those things need no bulleted list. Rather my goals for 2013 are at this point of a simpler variety. I want to answer the mountains open invitations to come and explore, to make more memories, seek more adventures. If not faster, then farther. And if not farther, then just because.

Race Report: Mountain Masochist 50 Mile Trail Run (Alexis)

Mountain Masochist Trail Run 50 Miler

Montebello, VA

Saturday, November 3, 2012

I registered for Masochist in frenzy mode as the race was filling up only days after registration had opened in early May. I was fresh off of my second ultra, Promise Land, and an endorphin high had me convinced I could do anything, including running 50+ miles. It wasn't until the Odyssey Trail Running Rampage 40 Miler in September that I started to have doubts about my capabilities.

Despite a decent overall finish at the Odyssey race, I began to come unraveled in the following weeks. I did not come away from that race confident and believing in my abilities, that race had knocked me down in size. I had not fueled well and a fall mid-way led to an almost complete mental breakdown.  Add to the self-doubt a few recovery weeks and my Masochist training, which had started out so well throughout the summer, began to suffer.

Three training runs on parts of the Masochist course over several fall weekends had me even more nervous. The parts of the course we traversed seemed difficult enough and we left out parts of the course that seasoned Masochist runners claimed were even more grueling. I began to second guess my registration and my sanity.

It all boiled down to fear. I feared a DNF.  I feared cold, wet feet. I feared another mental breakdown. Sure these fears were mostly unfounded, but aren’t many fears? 

To combat my unsubstantiated fears I began to compile a list of things that I had learned from previous ultras, both the good and bad, as well as insight and advice other ultra runners had given me. When my taper began I turned my focus entirely on the mental strength and determination I would need at hand.  The night before Masochist I finished the list, folded it and stuck it in a small pocket of my three quarter zip pullover.  With such seemingly simple advice such as “smile” and ‘give all of yourself regardless of outcome’ this straightforward scheme was to be my secret weapon when the going got tough and the hurt came out at Masochist.  Fortunately, I had a good day and the list never got pulled out. I like to think it was in spite of the list that I never had to pull it out.

In the many hours I spent reading and rereading books by Tom Noakes and Byron Powell, I decided that I had to be on top of my hydration and fueling well before the start, a point echoed in a conversation I had with Jeremy Ramsey days before. It was to this effect that I woke up at 3 am to begin fueling for Masochist; cereal, slice after slice of cinnamon sugar toast, pb&j, and several cups of coffee. I had also hoped to go to the bathroom but when attempts failed I took some precautionary Pepto Bismol. 

Feeling quite full I slathered my feet with Bag Balm and my favorite two pairs of race day socks; Injinji toe socks and Sock Guy socks from the Mountain Junkies Frozen Toe events held each January. I wore my Hoka trail shoes, my Zensah calf sleeves that have become more my signature than a necessary accoutrement and my much loved Nike shorts. Six Strawberry Banana GU sandwiched between my two sports bras (thank you, Chelsie) to get me started and I was ready to go.

Todd and I at the starting line. 

We met our friends, Blake and Kristen Edmondson, in the parking lot of the Amherst Food Lion at 5:30. They had kindly offered to crew us for our first 50 miler, an act I wouldn’t completely come to fully appreciate until later in the day having never had a crew before.

It wasn’t long after checking-in, a few quick hellos, and a final restroom stop, that we were off and running. I settled into the pack, my friend’s Chelsie and Grattan by my side. I reflected on Chelsie’s suggestion from an earlier conversation, it’s just a long run in the mountains with friends and ran with that notion.  It was dark but these miles seemed so effortless and the time and distance passed quickly. The creek crossings that I’d been anxious about were upon us so quickly, and then behind us. And my feet and I survived. My Hoka’s drained amazingly well and the water wasn’t nearly as cold or uncomfortable as I had dreaded. And just like that the entire race instantly became less frightening and more manageable.

It wasn’t long before I had the chance to meet my first stranger of the day, she was very friendly and opened up conversation about the beautiful scenery and we exchanged hellos. When she introduced herself as Leah Daugherty I was taken aback.  I instantly thought where am I? I shouldn’t be up here running with Leah, she is far better than I am.  She seemed surprised that a reputation preceded her and I immediately liked her even more for her modesty. I tried to run with her but got carried away in the leap frog game I was playing with Todd and ran off to catch him after he passed me yelling “Alexis, you run like a girl.” A cheer meant to motivate me but ultimately slightly offending me. It wasn’t long after that Leah effortlessly carried herself up a hill that I convinced myself I needed a break on. I passed Todd a final time, he reminded me to fuel and drink, like he knew he wouldn’t see me again until the finish.  The thought continued to weigh on me, Where am I? Am I running too fast?

Several well meaning friends had tried to convince me I could do well at Masochist but I refused to hear them. Frank Gonzalez told me I could finish top 10. I wanted to refute the concept, but the idea was a pleasant one, and I would be lying to say I didn’t let the thought take up residence in my thoughts in the weeks leading up to Masochist. But I just couldn’t believe I could do that well. I had read about many of the women coming to Masochist, at least a dozen I knew were far better than me. I told Frank I couldn’t accept the pressure of his compliment, he told me I was crazy.

It wasn’t long after leaving Todd’s company that I came upon David Horton on his bike, “run faster” he goaded before telling me he thought I was 6^th female.  The next several miles until Dancing Creek were a blur, I turned my iPod on for the first time and just ran. Coming into the aid station at Dancing Creek and seeing all of those people and hearing some of them cheering my name, it was incredible, it made me want to run stronger or at least not stop, I swapped water bottles with Blake and kept on moving.

It was about this time that I really started to bask in what a good day I was having, I kept eating a GU every 40 minutes and I took my first 2 salt tabs. Running up the hill to Robinson’s Gap I felt very good but ran walked the hill because in training Mike Mitchell had encouraged this approach over running the entire hill. I paced with the runner in front of me who ran the entire hill. I would run until I caught him and then walk for a count of 30. Reaching the top of the hill I was headed into unchartered territory as we had ended here on a previous training run. I ran down from Robinson’s Gap at as hard an effort as I felt I could afford at only 17 miles in, trying to save the quads a little but also make up some time.  I had to take pit stop #2 of the day, a sign I was hydrating better than in previous ultras. I saw a runner up ahead and started to reel her in; I also had a female runner right behind me. I was enjoying being sandwiched in between these two runners and just trying to maintain my place between them.

Coming into Irish Creek I stopped long enough to fill my water bottle, I was feeling good so I didn’t grab anything more than a quarter of a PB&J . It wasn’t long until I came into the aid station at the Reservoir. I had somehow beaten Blake and Kristen to this aid station and my water bottle was still almost full so I ran right through.  Climbing out of the reservoir I spotted a runner up ahead who looked familiar, it was Joe Alderson.  I slowed to talk to him for a moment but he seemed done with his race. I was worried for him, that he was going to drop but he urged me to keep going. Losing ground on the woman ahead whom I had been chasing I said my farewell. My levels of self-doubt are so high I knew better to think I would have any power of persuasion over Joe and I feared he would DNF at Long Mountain.  Seeing someone I train with on occasion having a difficult time gave me a second to waiver in my own race. I overheard the woman behind me talking to another runner about marathons and I took the opportunity to jump in on the conversation, figuring that a chat would be a good distraction.

Coming though an aid station.

The woman was Amy Rusieki, a friendly outgoing runner whose husband was in the running to win the race. He had come down the year before and finished just behind Eric Grossman, he had come back this year to win and suggested Amy come along to run. We shared how much we both wanted a jacket, she encouraged me, gave me some pointers and told me that she thought I was doing well and would end up with a jacket.  I wanted to believe her but I was still unsure of the second half and the snow we were running towards.

I was running very low on GU at this point so I was very happy to see Blake a quarter mile or so before the Long Mountain aid station. He had a Gatorade, 5 GU, a fresh water bottle and a PB&J I’d made for my lunch.  Crossing the road and seeing the large gathering of volunteers and crew members was motivating. I had made it to Long Mountain, the halfway point of the race, in 4:25, a half hour faster than my ultimate goal and yet feeling like I was running conservatively.

 I ran through without stopping but started to walk as soon as I hit trail. I had to literally wet my PB&J to swallow it. It was the first time I had really attempted to eat real food all day and my brain felt as though it was eating cardboard. I did manage the whole thing down, but it took effort and I walked the whole time. With lunch over I started back in on my walk/run routine.

 I was surprised to see Dennis Coan just ahead at this point. I don’t think he was as excited to see me as I was to see him.  The climb to Buck Mountain was about as fun as I’d remembered in the training run. I missed hearing the Rocky music I’ve heard about for ages, but the volunteers at this aid station were very friendly and I stopped long enough to pick up an assortment of foods.  Overall, I still felt very good, and the next section was mostly downhill. However, it was at this point that we started to see snow on the ground.

At Long Mountain Amy had pulled ahead of me but I caught back up with her on this next section and we ran together once again. The miles flew by as we talked. At Wiggins Spring I saw Blake and Kristen again, they gave me more GU and swapped bottles.

There was more and more snow as we climbed but you were still able to dodge most of it as we were still on roads. When I got to the Loop I was in a very good mood. I was in 6^th place, I felt strong and I knew that once I got through the Loop I could unleash my ‘race to the finish’ race plan. I didn’t’ see Blake and Kristen so I just headed into the Loop, David Horton asked if I wanted to grab any aid but I declined. The Loop was the only section of the course I had seen more than once in training. I thought I knew what to expect even with the snow warnings I had heard.

I was wrong. This happens a lot to me.

The snow was apparent immediately but I was able to run through it for the first mile or so, it was flat to downhill and the front runners had cleared a fair path. After a while though the trail started to climb, the rocks and snow got the better of me and I took to walking. Someone later likened this section to walking in holes made by post-hole diggers. It was bad but I imagined how bad it must have been for the guys up front. I was torn here, I wanted to hike but it was really only a walk and a slow walk. I knew the awkward footing would tire my legs in a way that the running would not have. It felt like an eternity to the fork that lead you to the summit of Mount Pleasant, however the trail only got more difficult from this point on. It was a little motivating to see Holly, Leah, and then Amy coming back from the summit until I was coming back from the summit and saw what felt like dozens of people in that out and back section. It changed my race, I will admit, to see a dozen women that close to me. I started to fear slipping form top 10, I just knew I would fall to 20^th, that I couldn’t navigate the snowy terrain as well as they could.

The rest of the loop wasn’t as bad as the first half but I knew Kate Caldwell, the other female I was sandwiched between, was right behind me. She was clearly crossing through the snow more efficiently than I, I knew she would pass me at any moment, but she never did in the loop. At one point there is a climb, one that I walk/ran on training runs. I walked every step of it and it was degrading. I had hoped all along to race these final miles but I began to see that the snow had taken more out of me than any other hill or section of the course; I had come into the loop as confident as I could muster and it was working to get the better of me. I had read race reports, I knew the loop had a reputation for tearing a runner down, now I was the runner who was being torn down. I fought it with a smile.

When I finally came out of the Loop Kristen told me I had just missed them when I’d entered the loop and that I had been in the loop for about an hour and a half. She swapped bottles with me one last time and gave me a final five farewell GU and told me she would see me at the finish.

I ran towards Salt Log Gap and at some point Kate pulled away. I started the unavoidable over-the-shoulder-glance, ready for a group of three women to coming flying by me at any time, making this section of the course look like child’s play. At the Salt Log Gap aid station I hung around a little longer than at previous aid stations, I grabbed a few Pringles and headed on. I ate the first Pringle, but barely. I put the second one in my mouth, chewed it and blew it out like bubbles. My stomach was starting to turn against me. I tossed the rest of the Pringles off into the snow. This section of the course is a little over 1.2 miles, on road. Road that was mostly free of snow, a break from what I knew was up ahead, I urged myself to run but I just didn’t have it in me at the moment.  My stomach was growling, unsatisfied and upset from a day of little real food I imagine. I checked my water bottle pocket; I had ended up in the swap with Kristen with the bottle that had the Tums I’d packed the night before. I got excited over this, I took them out and started eating one after another, hoping it would calm my stomach and pass the time to the next aid station.

When I finally reached the Forest Valley Aid station the volunteers kindly offered me the option of hanging out a while. I thanked them but replied I must keep moving forward, I took a few Oreos and headed back into snow covered trails. One of the volunteers made a ‘Powered by Oreos’ statement, it made me smile. I thought about how supportive and encouraging the volunteers had been all day. I was able to eat both Oreos and my stomachache improved.

I decided at that point that the hike up to Forest Valley was my low point of the day; I had survived it even if I walked 98% of it. I thought of Gordy Ansleigh and his unsupported run that first year he ran Western States with the horses. I reminded myself to smile and keep moving forward no matter what.  At this point I stole a glance behind myself and there were two guys approaching, I let the one nearest me pass as I stepped aside, but then I decided to hold on. It wasn’t quite a chase as we walked more than I would like to admit and I wasn’t much of a companion as I didn’t talk much, but it helped the miles pass, though pass very slowly they still did.

These 4.11 miles seemed like 12 as I dragged through the snow. I did mourn the run that could have been if not for the snow, I could sense the trail that lies beneath the snow and I felt that it was just the kind of trail I love to run. But I hunkered down and did the best I could despite the snowy conditions. The trail did start to descend eventually but even then the snow slowed us.

In time we came to the aid station at Porter’s Ridge. I saw Matt Day who gave an encouraging word and I grabbed what I swear were unsalted Saltines. I asked the distance left, 4 miles said the man with the clipboard and offered up a frown, but it’s all downhill, he assured. I glanced at my watch; I had 9:02 on my Garmin. You can do this in 9:45 still, I told myself.  Of course, volunteers and helping hands always say it’s all downhill from here. A runner appeared beside me, I asked if he’d run the race before and if it was really downhill. The runner, Chris, said it was downhill and that I was doing well, that he didn’t see a group of 3 women chasing me down and that he could tell I wouldn’t let them pass me. We ran the next two miles together and he would tell me as each mile was counted down. He was very friendly and I tried to keep with him but the descent finally got steep and he pulled away but not before he told me I could stop fearing those 3 girls waiting to come from nowhere.

I held up running as hard as I could until I hit the pavement and the hill leveled out. I could see Brenton and Chris up ahead but I slowed rather than sped up.  I knew I had less than a mile to go and was just wondering where the finish was when the crowd began to appear up ahead. I looked behind me, not a soul. I slowed enough to let the emotions overcome me; I thought you’ve run 50 miles…you could run 100.

That great and final moment, crossing the finish line in Montebello, Virginia.

Thankfully though, I didn’t have to. I crossed the finish in 9:36. The moment I let my body know we were done, it kind of fell apart. David Horton asked me what I’d been doing, I think he meant to train for Masochist, but all my brain could pull together was ‘running’.

The next half hour is kind of a blur, I enjoyed seeing runners finish though I somehow missed my own husband when I went to the store for a coke. I felt awful as I came out of the store to see him just passed the finish line. What a terrible wife I am!

The finish line at Masochist was amazing, I am perhaps an emotional mess to begin with but add in an exhausting day of running in the mountains, and I was thoroughly overwhelmed witnessing so many people come across that line, especially having insight into what they had just endured. It was a great weekend, I met a lot of great, encouraging people and I was reminded once again why I love this sport.

I was in a very good place for the next 18 hours before I began to feel like I got hit by a Mack Truck. I am sore, especially in the quads, but nothing feels injured or anything more than sore. I feel like I had a good day, I stayed fueled and hydrated pretty well. I tried to run as steady as possible, but feel like I could improve on the second half. Despite snowy conditions I still ran faster than my ideal goal of 9:40, I am wondering how much better I could run. I feel like I could have gone further but not so much sure about how much faster.

Overall the thing I feel greatest about today is that I can’t wait to run. I really feared that Masochist was going to drain me of my desire to run. And I think I left a little of that self-doubt out in the snow. I am proud of my top 10 Patagonia Down Sweater. I did something that I really didn’t think I could do. I realize I had a good day, that I was lucky, but I also know that I’ve always been determined and stubborn.  I think I’ve finally found something where those traits are vital to success. And I’m already wondering, what next?

-Alexis

Deep Hollow Half Marathon: Race Report (Alexis)

Deep Hollow Half
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Lynchburg,  Virginia

Two years.

That’s how long I've been waiting to run Deep Hollow. In 2010 I was battling a bout of iliotibial band syndrome  when I passed over the half marathon for the 5k distance. I remember being beat by nine year old Abby Gonzales and watching the half marathoners finish. Several of them were covered in dirt and blood, I envied their sweat soaked shirts and proud, exhausted expressions crossing the finish line. I am going to run that race I told myself, next year, I’ll be back. I came back in 2011, but not as a participant, but once again as a spectator at the finish line as I was counting down the hours until the arrival of our youngest child. Waiting on the hillside along the finish line I cheered in fellow runners, anxious for my husband to finish. I knew he wanted to finish in less than two hours and was worrying about his whereabouts when he finally came into the camp at 2:20. He was not happy; he’d gotten off course and had run some extra mileage. His pace was right on target, his time was not. Coming into 2012 we both had Deep Hollow high atop our race lists; I was eager to finally get to run the race that had eluded me and Todd was hell bent on finally chasing down that sub-two hour finish.

For the better part of our training year Todd and I have trained on the trails of Candler’s Mountain. Long runs, short runs, slow runs, tempo runs, we've done them all. We know that mountain well. It is this point that made this particular race stressful for me in the last few weeks. When I don’t do well at a road race or an out of town race I can tell myself that I don’t run roads, that I didn’t know the course. However, if I didn’t do well on our mountain, on our turf, how would I recover from the letdown?

In the past six weeks we’ve run sections of the Deep Hollow course countless times and the whole course in what we thought was its entirety on three separate occasions. I ran it the day after the Lynchburg Half Marathon in 2:32 as proof to myself that I didn’t leave enough on the Lynchburg Half Marathon course the day before. Two weeks later we ran it again in 2:35 as a long run. Not pushing the pace, just seeing what we could do running it through. The Saturday before the race we ran the course but not in order, chasing Jason Captain for nine miles, finishing in 2:12. It was with these numbers as well as an in-depth study of past years race results that I chose the arbitrary finishing goal of 2:10.

As the days before the race grew short I started to have anxiety about the race. I don’t throw that word around without a full understanding of what I intend to get across. When I thought about Deep Hollow my legs would become weak beneath me, my heart rate increased and my palms would become sweaty.  Failure wasn't an option and yet the thought ceaselessly weighed on me because I wasn't sure what the boundaries of failure meant for me and Deep Hollow.

I run because I am competitive. My umpteenth attempt at ‘starting to run’ was successful in 2009 because I signed up for the Virginia 4 Miler and got swept up in the spirit of the struggle. I want to race because challenge builds character. I want to push my limits, evaluate my strengths and shortcomings. But I know I’m not Ellie Greenwood and so I have to establish what success and failure mean for me and my abilities and goals. I take the idea of running and racing very seriously, perhaps too seriously. Maybe some days I lose perspective. Sometimes I wonder if I should race at all. And yet I’m also undeniably lazy. I would rather only run four or five days a week; a six day running week is virtually unheard of in my training log. I skip runs with little hesitation.  I hate getting up early to run, I dread running alone. Or in the dark.  I am only half-committed to speed work. My greatest, and sometimes only, motivator is proving myself. I want to believe in myself and I want to win over other’s respect and approval. It all boils down to low self-esteem, a high level of self-doubt, my astrological sign and probably something my parents did or did not do when I was growing up. I should probably see a therapist. Instead, I run.

So back to the week before the race, I was aiming for 2:10. Todd thought I could possibly run sub-2:00. I was not at all convinced in my ability to run a 2:10 and cringed every time I heard him tell someone he thought I would do really well. The half marathon is a wonderful distance, perhaps my favorite to race. The perfect distance really, short enough to run fast, long enough to recover from mistakes and yet you’re done before you ever reach a wall.  I ran portions of the course Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and came to the conclusion that in sections the course is very fast, it’s the last few hills over the last few miles that appear the most defeating. I knew that I had to be careful about fueling and energy conservation because of these last few miles.

Thus I drew up a fueling plan based on my goal time and scribbled it out on a little yellow legal pad. I grabbed four Strawberry-Banana GU from our bulk supply and laid them out with my fading Zensah sleeves and favorite Nike shorts. The morning of the race I tried to eat as much as I could but I had to force myself to eat three thin slices of toast, my stomach was wrapped tight due to nerves. I felt sick, almost as though I had the flu, my muscles seemed weak and I was nauseous. It was partly due to this distraction that I left my water bottle at home, a mishap I didn’t even recognize until we were on the mountain about to warm-up. I knew there were six aid stations along the course, a generous number for the distance, but I also yearned for the comfort a water bottle in hand provides. Todd asked around and secured a bottle for my use from Joe. The search for a spare water bottle did cut our warm-up run short but I didn't fret it, I was far more contented to have a portable hydration source.

With minutes to go to the start I took my first GU, took a final restroom break and made my way to the start line. Familiar faces were a comfort but my stomach was a ball of nerves. We started and I was immediately passed by a group of about ten. I was running faster than my target pace but I knew single track was right up ahead and I knew I would rather not have to pass others on trails. The single track we took however was not what we had run on training runs and it threw me off slightly, had me second-guessing how well I really knew the course. Todd passed me on Lasso, seconds later Jamie Swyers did. I tried not to let this bother me, I had convinced myself (or so I thought) that I was comfortable with a few of the seasoned ultra runners beating me, especially Jamie and Sarah Quigg. I’ve seen their times, I’ve seen them out running, I know they’re both strong runners.  It was still a setback to see Jamie pass by me running so effortlessly. I decided to hang on to her and Todd as best I could from that point.

Then at 1.48 miles a most ridiculous occurrence, I fell between the slats of a bike ramp. I never take the bike ramps in training unless they are the path of least resilience. However, I was chasing the group ahead of me which included Daryl, Jamie, Todd and a few other guys and when some of them took the bike ramp I thought (or rather didn’t think) to follow them. And I run on my toes and my right foot went between two 2x4’s, down to my shin. I was running fast and when my leg went down the action-reaction between shin bone and ramp was quite painful. I was trying to use a small tree by the ramp to pull my leg free and yet I look up to see no one has stopped and they are pulling further ahead of me. I managed to pull free and make it off the ramp and I looked down at the watch, 1.48 miles, that’s where my race probably ends, I told myself (always the optimist). And just like that the negative feelings started pouring in. For a moment I thought my race was lost.

Fortunately, I had a very negative race a few weeks back and I've been working on remaining strong. The struggle and yet resulting success at Douthat was at least a half-boost. Buy my shin hurt. Run until the aid station at Falwell Road, I urged the negative side. I knew that the pain might sub-side; I was more concerned with getting the anger and unconstructive thoughts to go with it. I ran easy up the hill on Lake Hydaway Road, watching as Todd and Jamie pulled further and further away. By the time I crested the hill they were out of sight. I ran hard down Lake Hydaway all the way to Lake Trail. On Lake Trail I could see Jamie at times but I was struggling, I took my second GU and walked a few steps up one of the small hills I have vowed in the past I would never walk again. It was becoming a rough day. I saw a girl behind me on the switchback at the top of Lake Trail, I was running scared. I knew if I didn’t pull it together I was going to spiral out of control.

I made it to the second aid station ahead of my goal for the day, perhaps too far ahead of my goal. I told myself to slow down, find a rhythm and a better pace. I ran the next few miles on Monogram Road and Monorail trying to refocus on my race. I didn’t run the switchbacks on Lower Dam Trail as well as I had during any training runs so I made up with it by running breakneck speed down Downhill Run. I teetered between running fast and feeling good to feeling spent and slow. On Bobsled I started to really contemplate my finishing time, I knew my pace was dropping and I wouldn’t break 2 hours, but I knew I could still easily hit my own goal of 2:10.

And before long I was on Walk in the Park, such a misleading name, it’s a hard section for me, hilly. I had a guy in front of me which was nice; I like to chase, or nevertheless to follow. I got passed going up a hill and decided to take another walk break to a count of 30 on the long hill that skirts Clear Cut Road and take a third GU. I was feeling tired yet was still having bouts of energy where I felt good, I took the downhill sections very fast.

At ten miles I decided I could hit 2:03 if I could run a sub 30 minute 5k. It sounds like a reachable goal but the last three miles of that race are on terrain that can break you down. The hills become more numerous, and even though I ran them in training they cry out walk break when you’re over ten miles in on race day. I had felt a few twitches in my calves up until this point. And even though there was only about two miles left in the race I decided to consume the fourth and final GU of my race plan, only about 20 minutes or so after the third. I drank the last of my water to wash it down. I knew I was getting close to the end; I started to feel some sort of second wind. And yet I took a final walk break when I saw Cheyenne and Debbie at the top of the final hill on the course. They were telling me about Todd, he had been en route to reaching sub 2 when they’d seen him. They looked so happy and full of energy. I wanted to steal their liveliness but I just took a longer walk break instead. When I took to running again I knew I was in the homestretch, so close to the finish I dug deep and picked up the pace. 

I was barreling downhill with a half mile to go when the cramps in my calves came back. Like fireworks rippling through my calf muscles, spasms catching and releasing, over and over. I tried to run faster but I was scared they would get worse, that I would fall on the trail. I prayed that they would cease. My pace slowed, the calf cramps continued, especially painful in my left leg, but I ran it in. I was so angry I wanted to cry; I bit my lip to hold it in. I felt betrayed by my body; I didn't even steal a glance at the clock as I crossed the finish line. I stopped, ready for the cramps to release. But they continued to spasm for several minutes.

Todd told me my time, 2:03:20. He gave me a little bit of a hard time for not being faster. I felt conquered by the course, by my weaknesses, the contractions in my calves. I have now had a string of poor finishes (in my opinion) due to cramping, three half marathons and a trail marathon this summer have all ended with cramping in the final miles. I have been trying to narrow down the culprit because it is humiliating to have it keep happening. At the 40 Miler I purposefully did not run the last mile in hard because I didn't care about the few seconds lost not doing so and was terrified that I would cramp up.

Having suffered from leg cramps during pregnancy in the past these cramps are different. They start with slight twinges in the calves and propel to tighter, rhythmic spasms the harder I push.  I never cramped until earlier this year with my first race fueling with GU or similar products. Am I taking too many GU? Or not enough? Do I need to consume more electrolytes? Am I not drinking enough water? Or am I just running beyond my ability? I have been looking for answers and to have it happen in the final steps of Deep Hollow was quite disheartening.

Immediately, despite the knowledge that I had finished third overall female, I felt like I had let people down. It took me half the day to realize I had let myself down with my perceived ideas of what others expect of me. I ran hard on a tough course. I grumbled about the calf cramps and the twenty or thirty seconds they may or may not have really cost me, I whined about my shin (which is still bruised and tender) but I can’t call Saturday’s run a failure. I reached my goals, what more did I want or need exactly? Will I never be content? Will I always be chasing a slightly faster time?

Sunday I awoke to sore legs, it was the first sign that I’d run plenty fast at Saturday’s race. My calves were tight, tender and sore. They carried that soreness that accompanies calf cramps the morning after they hit in the middle of the night, when you've all but forgotten about them. I begrudgingly took the day for rest following the advice that rest and recovery are part of training. I had hoped to hit 30 mile weekends between now and Masochist but I questioned the benefit on running long on tired legs and a downtrodden ego.

Today, after a few days further reflection on the race, I feel slightly better. I still have a lingering soreness in the legs but I've mostly returned to my ways. I skipped Sunday’s long run and cut yesterday’s run short, we can call that laziness. I spent hours worrying about Deep Hollow before and after, and now it’s on to hours spent worrying about Masochist but we aren't going to call that obsessive. No, I’d rather we call that passionate.

-Alexis

Looking much happier than I felt following Deep Hollow.

First Race of 2012: Mountain Junkies Frozen Toe 10k

In an attempt to adequately measure and adjust my training I plan to, as soon as time allows, write a post race or event recap. I think it's best to write down all the events and emotions as quickly as possible before the mind begins to transform them into something else.

When compiling my 2012 race calendar Mountain Junkies RNUTs (Roanoke Non Ultra Trail series) was top of the list. Last year I was most looking forward to this series, and had already run the first race of the series, when I got pregnant. I did end up running the series in its entirety but I didn't do as well as I had originally hoped, obviously running slower and more cautiously with a baby on board. This year I plan on using the series to help me return to my pre-pregnancy level of fitness and to help me build a solid base on which to eventually train for longer endurance races and series such as the LUS which I hope to tackle all or part of in 2013.

So early December I registered for what I considered my first real race since having baby Brodie in November. As soon as I hit confirm I felt the nervousness start to set in. It's amazing how tormenting a race on the calendar can be for me, it surprising that I race at all. However, it's also amazing how motivating a race on the calendar can be for me, so I continue to do it. I didn't change my training any but I did practically beg my husband to let me come back out with him and 'the boys' to run Wild Wednesday trail runs on Candler's Mountain. I stopped running trails at 34 weeks pregnant and knew I needed to get back out there to find my trail legs before I ran a race on trails. He hesitatingly agreed for me to come one cold and rainy Wednesday in December. I hoped they would take it a little easy due to the temps and rain, I knew I would have to run at or near race pace to keep up. It was a great run. I loved the rain and being back out there with the guys running on my favorite training grounds. I haven't had to run quite race pace to keep up every Wednesday since but it has been great quality training to go out there each week and run with strong trail runners. Seeing as these are headlamp runs due to Winter's short days I always pick my legs up a little easier as I fear being left out there in the dark. So for four weeks I got in Wild Wednesday trail runs of about six miles each week. Definitely not as much time on the trails as I would have hoped but enough to make me feel a little more equipped for the distance and terrain of my first race of the season.

I ran an easy hill workout the day before the race. I say hill workout because our neighborhood is a four mile run of constant ups and downs. I ran it as easy as I could, knowing a run the day before wouldn't hurt me unless I hurt myself. Friday evening I made a list of all the things I thought I would need and checked the weather for the following morning. I laid out my clothes like an excited pupil before their inaugural day of school and forced myself to hit the sack at 10 p.m. promptly.

Brodie did have me up at 2 and 5 a.m. but I felt like I got decent sleep when I woke up the next morning. We were a little late getting out of the house with the four kids in tow and we did stop for coffee and donuts on the way but we still made it to New Hope Christian Church with about a half hour before the start time. I quickly checked in and pinned my race number on my shirt and hit the trail for a slow but steady warm-up mile before the race briefing.

I usually have a set of goals for any given event. There is the goal I set out for myself that I make public, this is the more attainable goal that I am confident I can reach if I do well. Then I usually have a second goal that is usually kept private that I believe if I give it my all I may be able to reach. Last year I was in pretty decent shape when I ran the Frozen Toe 10k. I started out fast but feeling good when I completely fell apart shortly after the halfway point. I mean I quit, started walking, gave up. It was not a high point for me and I regret how quickly I shut down. Fortunately after a few minutes walk break I picked up my weary legs and finished in 53:03. This year my goals were simple, to not shut down at all. I vowed to take walk breaks if need be, or slow my pace down, but to not give in to negativity or quit. Tell yourself you can do this and do it, was my mantra. My goal was to run it in an overall average pace of between 8:45-9:45. I wanted to definitely do it in less than an hour. My more private goal was to hit 54 minutes.

I was reminded during the race briefing that I needed to go out fast while all of the racers would be on open road so as not to get stuck behind people running slower than my anticipated pace when the crowd bottle-necked onto single track trail. I hate going out fast, it's just not me, I need to warm-up even if I've already warmed-up, but I just followed the crowd. The first couple of miles I felt good. I didn't really remember this part of the course from last year, probably because last year it was covered in snow with snow still falling. This year there was no snow in sight. I was keeping my pace just under 9 at this point and thought I would just pick it up the further I went as I warmed up even more. I was happy when I reached the aid station almost halfway in and I was still under a 9 minute pace. I stopped, gulped some Gatorade at the aid station and was back on trail before I lost any positioning. This I remembered was where I fell apart last year. I'm happy to say that this year this section of trail didn't overwhelm me as it did last year. I am not necessarily any tougher this year, in fact, I'd probably say the opposite but I was prepared enough having run the loop last year to know that a quick hike or a slower pace might just be unavoidable at my current level of fitness. I was able to run all but one steep switchback where I followed the majority and hiked. At this point my pace had dropped to over 9 minutes which the day before had been just fine in my head but in race mode I was becoming disappointed. I gave it everything I had but still had to hike once or twice for a count of 30 but was able to bring my overall pace back down. The last mile was the toughest and I was thankful to have my ipod with me, I skipped over a few songs to find an upbeat one to help bring me in to the finish. Then it wasn't long until I heard the cheering and sounds of the approaching finish. I pushed even harder with the finish clock in sight and finished in 54:26.

Overall, I loved the course, it was a beautiful rolling trail which is my favorite and in better shape I think I could easily run the course in its entirety. I am content with my finishing time but not as pleased as I thought I would be, perhaps because there were several times on the course when I wanted to speed up and my body just couldn't keep up with the demand. It's only the first race in the series and I knew going into the series that I would be using this series of races to return to and then hopefully surpass where I was comfortably a year ago. I just have to keep reminding myself this fact. I know, as others have pointed out, that I had a baby two months ago. I guess I'm just not sure what to expect from myself, which is why racing is so vital to me. I need it to analyze where I'm at, how far I've come and where I might be headed.

As always, the event as a whole was terrific. A thorough race briefing had me fully prepared and remembering things from last year that I'd forgotten. There was also wonderful post-race food, especially the coveted pumpkin bread and fellowship with other Mountain Junkies. The whole family came along to support me and I loved hearing their cheering voices as I crossed the finish line and later watching them 'race' back and forth in the grass while we waited for race results.

Next up, the Arctic 5k a brand new trail race debuting at the end of the month on the trails of Candler's Mountain.

alexis

2012 Goals and Resolutions

Updated Januray 2013.

With a race calendar a mile long and a strong will to return to my pre-pregnancy fitness level I have compiled a list of goals for the new year. These are all hopefully within reach, as all goals should be, and I may alter them as the year goes by depending on how I'm coming along.

1. Run a sub 23 minute 5k (road). My current 5k PR is 22:23. I was hoping to break 22 minutes last year when I got pregnant so at this point I just want to get back to where I was Fall 2010. Ran 21:32 at the Turkey Trot, Thanksgiving Day 2012.

2. Run a marathon. Planning on running a trail marathon in early June. Then another in September (also on trails) and then, if all is going well, to run the Suntrust Richmond Marathon in November. Ran 4:05, a course record, at the Carvins Cove Trail marathon in June.

3. Run an average of 25 miles a week. Sounds easy enough but I have a problem with consistency. I would rather be consistent than all over the place. Ran an average of 36 miles a week, not sure they were all that consistent though.

4. Cross-train. If I'm realistic this will be the first of these goals to fall by the wayside. I need to cross-train, I'm just not as motivated. I'm hoping fear of injury will help me with this goal. FAIL!

5. Keep a training log. I think this one will be pretty easy because it's like journaling and I love to journal. I am going to keep track of miles, where I trained, how I fueled and how I felt pre-, during and post-run. I also plan on logging my runs here weekly in the form of a post. Kept several different logs throughout the year but didn't keep up with the weekly blog log.

There are several more smaller goals, some having to do with particular races, but this is a good start. Every two or three months I hope to reevaluate where I'm at and make any adjustments at that point. There is still so much I want to do, so many goals big and small. This year I want to work on a return to speed. Not that I was all that fast before, I was just getting to a place where I thought I might get fast when I got pregnant. I'm going to start introducing track nights at least every two weeks and try and add more speed-play in some of my other runs. Other than that I would like to build a good base over the course of 2012 so that I can run the LUS (Lynchburg Ultra Series) in 2013.

-Alexis