Grindstone 100 Race Report (Alexis)

Grindstone 100 miler

Swoope, Virginia

Friday, October 3-5, 2014


I'm always unsure of where to begin; do I begin with registering in late spring after many others had committed to the Beast series this year or do I go further back, to the back and forth struggle that last summer was, the wondering if I should run Grindstone, if I could?

Wherever you begin, the story ends the same, with the Grindstone 100 mile endurance run. 

Before

Robbie Shull jumped on board first, without hesitation, to pace me, before I had even registered. Alissa Keith was next, donating a weekend away from her family, a lot to ask of anyone. I stole away Anna when I saw her offer on Facebook to crew for someone at Grindstone. I had been rather nervous about having a good crew like I'd procured for Western States, but with three people I was confident in I was a little more at ease. Then to my dismay, Kevin Corell's knee, which has been bothering him since early spring, went from bad to worse and he had to withdraw from the race. I asked Todd if I should ask Kevin to crew me,but he said that I was perhaps being a little selfish in asking Kevin, awaiting surgery on his knee, to come out to the race he wasn't running. But I am a little bit selfish, I was a little sad that Kevin wasn't running, though confident in Alissa, Robbie and Anna I felt like I needed Kevin. When I finally built up the nerve to ask Kevin to come to Grindstone as my crew captain he said he had already figured he would, I was quite thankful. With a top notch crew in place it was time to just move forward with plans and training.

In addition to amazing crew I was fortunate enough to spend the later part of the summer with other Blue Ridge Trail Runners training for Grindstone, namely Chelsie Viar, Mike Mitchell and Clifton Williams (as well as my husband Todd). We spent weekends in the mountains, sharing our fears and anxiously counting down the days to the start. Going into the race, my one hope was that we would all finish.

In the final days before the race I tried to work on calming my nerves and not letting my fears get the better of me. I read a few articles on boosting confidence, I took actions to control what I could such as having headlamps and then backup headlamps for the dark and tried to remain calm about the things I couldn't control. 

It was all going well, my faking the part of confident Alexis, until we were gathered around our tent at Camp Shenandoah and the rain began to fall. With my happy face gone, I tried to hold it together the best I could. That lasted about 10 miles into the race.

The Start to Dowell's Draft

My crew for the race, Alissa, Anna and Kevin were all helpful in getting me ready to start. Robbie was to come up Saturday morning for his section. Alissa said a prayer and helped me ready my favorite shorts, Kevin made sure I had something warmer in my pack and Anna helped tighten and loosen my pack so the tops of my peanut butter crackers wouldn't rub my arms. Finally, after a few pictures and a few last minute pre-race rituals we set off at 6pm.

I fell in with Sheryl and we talked about Kelly Reece and Masochist, Colorado and Disney World. We were stopped in a traffic jam when I saw Todd disappearing off ahead into the trees. I had sort of hoped to stay with him so I picked up the pace a little. There were so many people though and I was finding it hard to get around and try to catch him, I was being less patient that I should have been. Those first few miles, though easy enough, found me anything but relaxed and well at ease. The more I wanted to be near Todd the more emotional I got about 'needing' him.  I had this overwhelming sensation that I just wanted him to be by my side. In addition, I spent more time looking at runners feet then the course which proved to be a hellacious idea on the return trip when none of the terrain felt familiar even though there was only one day and direction sepearting us.

Earlier than I would have hoped it grew dark on us. I was feeling good enough, I was running, I knew, much better than at Western States. The rain was falling but rather than dwelling on the possibility of being wet I allowed the sound of it be my company. When we, several miles in, began climbing I didn't even recognize it for Elliott's Gap until very near the top. A woman asked if it was Elliot's and I told her I didn't think so, but the more up we went I realized it was. I was actually happy to have not recognized it but felt bad for giving the woman incorrect information. It felt hard, but I also felt like I was climbing well. I had been passing runners right and left when I finally recognized the stride of the dark figure right ahead as Todd. I decided not to let him know I was there but just follow. However, he turned and saw me. He was running with James Decker, a fellow Mountain Junkie, and I was just so relieved. I would just hold onto them into the darkness I swore to myself.

We punched our bibs at Elliott's and ran back down until we hit trail once more when my headlamp started slipping from my forehead. I kept trying to steady it but it wouldn't hold, to top it off this section of trail was wet and the rocks slippery. I finally had to stop to take it off and let Decker pass me. I got angry, it was the only time I thought I was going to cry the entire 101.85 miles (which I guess is a good thing?) I was mad, I had worked hard to catch up with Todd, I was convinced I needed him, and he was just pulling away as I struggled to fix my light. The more I struggled with my light the worse the scene got. I figured the scene suggested I needed to eat, I finally fixed the light and pulled a candy bar from my pack. It was hard to eat but I managed. I caught back up with Todd and Decker but now it felt like work and I wasn't enjoying any part of it. Then my stomach started to give me trouble.  There was a really friendly runner behind me trying to make conversation but my stomach continued to get the better of me, instead of making friends I started to slip into a slump. I let a few runners pass me and allowed Decker and Todd to pull further ahead. By the time we came into Dry Branch Gap I had fallen several paces back, the nausea was pulling me down quickly.

I had a little bit of a cold and a headache on Thursday and Friday that had been making me feel less than great but the onset of nausea compiled with the other symptoms worked against me. And fast. I was no longer even slightly relaxed or confident. I was pretty miserable. Todd asked if I was ok, I told him I was nauseous, he told me to eat. I told him to go and leave me. He left but not without asking if I was going to be ok, I didn't want to hurt his race, I didn't want to hold him back, I didn't want him waiting on me. He pulled away just past the aid station and I slowed to a crawl. I stopped eating, I let packs of people pass by me. I started to think about quitting.

And if you know me, once I think about quitting, it's ALL I can think about. For the next two to two and a half hours I fell further and further into a pit of my own despair, I quit and felt good about it. I encouraged myself that everyone would understand, I had a cold. I felt awful physically but I also realized with great confidence that I am not a 100 miler, it's not my distance. I was a little upset about the time I had spent training to have a bad day but decided then and there that I would stop fooling around in the mountains. I worked out a plan, I thought I was in my right mind. I felt bad for Alissa, Anna and Kevin but they could switch to other people's crews I thought, I would even help if I got a few hours sleep. I would like to see Todd finish, I thought. I was going to DNF, but it had to happen at some point, right? I was going to have to tell a few people who believed in me that I am not the person they think I am, but my children would love me regardless. In past events, I have quit, and it has made me emotional, here I felt GOOD about quitting, I felt SMART about quitting. 

I realized that I hadn't taken any Pepto at the race start, I always take Pepto but I had forgotten. I took out two Pepto, and a few tums, drank more water. When I started to feel a little tiny bit better I forced myself to eat but I was still quitting at Dowell's Draft, that couldn't be helped. I dreamed of sleeping in the back of the suburban. I had a good feeling Todd would have told our crew that I wasn't feeling good. They would understand, I just couldn't go 30+ more hours, I could not go another 80 miles. It could not be helped. My mind was made up.

Then I got to Dowell's Draft. So many people. I saw Blake first, he laughed when I said was nauseous, he led me to my crew and almost appeared thankful not to have to trouble with me. Anna had two pepto in my hand and told me to take them with Alissa forcing the drink to chase them before I even started my spiel, I'm not going on. I'm done. What did you just give me anyways?

Kevin just slightly laughed and said yes you are. I tried again but my pleas were falling on deaf ears, they just kept assuring me I was going to go on. What did I need they asked, I had no idea, I hadn't even considered leaving this aid station, I had no idea what shape I was actually in. I kept fighting and they kept pushing. This was going to be harder than I thought. Alissa and Anna grew quieter but stayed right there as Kevin just kept telling me I was going to North River Gap. This was going to be harder than I thought, I told myself, why don't they understand that I CANNOT do this? Out of the corner of my eye I caught Chey and Bethany starring at my little breakdown, pity or something worse in their eyes.

We were standing there and Kevin told me he didn't care if I walked I was going to North River Gap, we could reassess there. I knew I had lost right there but that didn't stop me from continuing to try, I knew from the previous two hour trek that if I made it to NRG I could finish, I didn't want to make it to Sam's aid station and quit there, I knew that. I knew there would be even more people to push me on, I was taking Frank's advice, if you're going to quit, quit early. If I was getting out, it had to be here, it had to be now. I then resorted to even more childish behavior, "I hate you right now, Kevin" I said and started to walk towards the trail.

Within a dozen feet I was more sick with myself for saying that to one of my closest friends than I had been previously on the course that I stopped and looked back at their dark silhouettes and called Kevin's name.

Kevin, I am a terrible person, I cannot believe I just said that. 

They walked back up to me. And I went right back to whining, You just don't understand, I can't do this for another 30 hours I pleaded. Kevin, steadfast, kept giving me all the right answers, I could go on, don't think about 25 hours or 30 hours, just keep moving forward, have you listened to music he asked. Alissa set to putting my earbuds IN MY EARS for me and Kevin just kept on reassuring me that I had done worse, that I could finish this and I was going to finish. All I could think about was how awful a person I was, I am a mother and I was acting like a child, I had just told someone that I like and appreciate very much I hated them. 

So of course, I straightened up, right?

Nope, I took the tantrum to the next level, I SAT down on the grass. I just won't leave I thought. It lasted about 14 seconds and Kevin and Alissa were pulling me up and telling me to just start walking. I wish I had gathered a less competent crew I told them. But somehow they got me to go on, not without a great effort on my part though I can assure you.

..to North River Gap

With my music on and the possibility of quitting gone for anything short of a near death catastrophe I actually began to run again. Not as fast as I had those first miles, smarter, more relaxed. I thought about my crew and how awfully I had acted. I owed them big, I vowed to eat well and stay as positive as I could for as long as I could.  I didn't know how long it would last, but I hoped at least through NRG.  The miles melted away comfortably, I ate on schedule, enjoying a grilled cheese at Lookout Mountain aid station, and ran near Siobhan and her husband but mostly alone. I started to come at ease with the darkness. It really wasn't very frightening. 

Every song that came on my iPod I somehow dedicated to my crew, whom I was more thankful for with each passing mile, "while I was feeling such a wreck I thought you'd treat me unkind, but you helped me change my mind", I listened to that song six times, I couldn't get the fact I told Kevin that awful thing out of my head. The poor guy can't run, it's got to be tough to be out there at an event that he should have been running, and I am throwing a tantrum and pleading to quit and saying the most awful things to him. I figured the best that I could do at this point was apologize and run as well as I could for all of them, that I would get to North River Gap in one piece and prove that while crazy, I had made it.

Near NRG I started feeling some pain in my feet and felt some small debris. I took my mini sharpie that I had attached to my pack and wrote "rocks" on my hand. When I got to the aid station at North River Gap I set in immediately to apologizing for my behavior at Dowell's, my crew told me Todd had been in a bad place there too. They said that I was 11 minutes behind Todd, and set about to helping me. I got weighed and was up 3 pounds, the same exact amount I had been up at 30 miles at Western States, I didn't let it worry me though like I had out there. Alissa set about helping me with my feet, applying mole skin, popping and treating a blister on my left foot. Sam came over and checked on me, apparently thinking I looked a little tired, rough, I am just so thankful he didn't have to witness what the other's did at Dowell's. Anna gave me more meds and fluids. Kevin got me some soda and food, warm potato dumplings and quesadillas.  I was there at that aid station a good 15 or more minutes but I changed my socks, fixed my feet, ate a ton of food and swapped packs. I left out of there with fresh batteries in my headlamp. It was a lot of time but it was mostly necessary time.

From there you climb A LOT. It was raining once more and I was all alone. The first few miles weren't all that bad, I knew it was a tough climb and just worked on getting it done. I decided that the darkness wasn't THAT bad, I kept reminding myself to keep an eye out for streamers but I wasn't as scared as I thought I would be. I had originally planned to make friends with someone, but it turns out I wasn't feeling/being very friendly and I actually was preferring running by myself, going my own pace. I decided I could do darkness, if I had to.

As the miles wore on I grew first tired and then cold, then more exhausted and even colder. Near the top of Little Bald I started to have a few slight hallucinations, I saw a person walk from the woods right in front of me, from the trail on the left into the woods on the right and then moments later a yard gnome. I started to see shadows and my headlamp kept casting strange feelings that there was someone right behind me. Then I started to really struggle with staying awake. I decided that at the aid station I was going to fall asleep for just a few minutes, I didn't trust just laying down on the side of the trail, what with yard gnomes and whatnot about.

To my dismay though the aid station wasn't at the top of the climb but a mile or so down a service road. That mile on service road was one of the toughest as I struggled to stay awake. I could see my breath and was hopeful for a fire. I was growing desperate when I finally asked a runner headed back the other way how far the aid station was, he said 100 yards.  Finally I came upon the aid station, the light of the fire so warm and welcoming. I got some soup and a potato dumpling and headed over to the fire, ready for warmth and a few minutes of sleep. The bonfire was surrounded by several chairs, each one of them filled. Steps from the fire one of the people in a chair turned to look at me, it was Todd! This came as quite a shock and woke me up a bit. I had not ever imagined I would catch back up with him, I figured I might see him once, headed back around the turnaround. He had struggled up Little Bald and had taken a quick nap at the aid station, he said he would wait for me. I told him no I was going to rest and he should go on, but he was insistent that he would wait, that he could use the company. I tried to lie down on the tarp where he has said he had napped but between the cold and wind and the surprise that was Todd's presence I just wasn't as tired as I had been.

Then Decker showed up by the fire. We talked about how cold each of us was when a guy, Chris, gave me an extra jacket he had in his drop bag there. Todd gave me a pair of his Injinji socks for my hands from his drop bag and we set off once more towards the official halfway point. Both of our spirits seemingly raised, if only just a little.

The Halfway Point

The sun was coming up and the jacket and socks made such a difference. Todd and I talked about our struggles and how much we appreciated having the other at just that moment, in that low on the mountain, to continue on with. When we made it to Reddish Knob we were in for quite the view, the sun had come up and Fall had clearly arrived. We punched our bibs but then took another moment to take in the beauty around us at all angles. It was pretty amazing and I am pretty lucky to have been able to share that with Todd.

We ran on to the halfway point and were both in much better spirits but the fatigue was clearly begin to settle in for the second half. I was beginning to wonder how long Todd was really going to run with me. I knew he had goals of a sub 24 hour race and I knew I was no where near that. Any goals I had made where all but gone other than finishing. I was just moving forward trying to making amends in some form to my dedicated crew of friends. We made it to the area where pacers are and stopped for a moment to pick up Alissa and headed off to the official turn around. Alissa told us stories about runners getting lost and angry hunters and I packed away the iPod for good. At the turnaround we took a moment to drink some tomato soup and share a moment with others runners, one of whom had run 33 100 milers. 

Coming back to the intersection Alissa said that they had made a joke of the fact that I kept bringing up the terrible thing I had said to Kevin because apparently Kevin hadn't even heard me say it. They had been joking and guessing what awful things I might have said, they were all a little let down with what it turned out to be. Back at the pacer pickup we grabbed a jacket and headed back towards where we had come. We passed Clifton only a few minutes later headed to the turn around.

Back at Reddish Knob we stopped for a moment for Todd to eat something and we saw Sheryl Mawn and Chelsie Viar coming and going from the top of Reddish. They said they'd gotten off course and run an extra 3 miles, it was further motivation to get moving, but we weren't.  We were actually going about things very slow and relaxed at this point. We were mostly enjoying ourselves though, talking to runners and telling stories but I was beginning to worry just how long the distance was going to take. A mile or so later we saw Mike Mitchell headed out to the turn around, we were pretty happy that all of our runners were still on the course and looking pretty good.

Back at Little Bald we stayed away from the comfort of the fire but did partake in some delicious fresh and hot quesadillas and Mountain Dew. We talked with the aid stations workers but I felt the urge to get moving. Todd told Alissa and I to get moving, he would catch up. We crossed paths again with Chris. Todd caught up once more and we ambled towards the trail to NRG. At this point the aimlessness was getting to me, I didn't know what kind of pace we were at, but I knew it didn't feel like a hustle, it was simply a forward moving pace. I figured Todd was suffering, he was quiet behind us and once or twice he disappeared to go to the bathroom. But he caught back up easily enough.

Finally, we arrived back at the trail that carried you back to the TWOT loop/NRG aid station, I nearly begged for Alissa and Todd get in front, telling them I would just do my best to follow. It was downhill but the sun was out and we moved fairly well. We ran even the little bumps. It was about this point that my knees started to bother me, a pain in my kneecaps, but I figured it was just par for the distance.

We came upon Kevin Smith just about 2.5 miles out from NRG and ran with him, he was ready to take Todd and get moving but Todd was insistent that he was going to stick it out with me. I told Todd he could leave with Kevin, I was not going to hurt his race. But Todd further insisted he was going to finish with me. I think Todd's race was all but lost at this point and he figured we could help each other. However, they did pick the pace up a little. I felt bad, that Kevin thought I was dragging Todd down, I both wanted Todd to run on and have the race of his life and yet selfishly appreciated his commitment to stay with me. Before that point I figured we were just sharing a low section, I really didn't think we would run the last 60 miles together. 

We came into NRG and saw Sam's sign that said "We love you Todd, Alexis, Cheslie, Cliffy and Mike" and I was in a fairly good place other than more foot pain and the growing pain in my knees. My left foot had a blood blister and Alissa tried to get it popped but we just ended up covering it with mole skin, we ate a good bit, Sam brought us hot foods and saw to it that we were well taken care of and Blake gave us mashed potatoes he had made. Sam gave me a card from our BRTR box, it was one Bailey, our six year old daughter, had made at the Box Party, it said "You are here to run and you are doing great! -Bailey Thomas". I folded it and put it in my pack. Because Todd was with us and Kevin Smith was no longer going to run with him Alissa stayed on to run the next section with us and Robbie joined us. Our group was in pretty good spirits as we headed out of NRG.

North River Gap back to Dowell's

My feet between the two tender spots on the bottoms of my feet and the blister on my left toe were giving me a bit of discomfort and my knees were now pretty shot, but I tried to give Robbie all that I had left as he had driven up that morning to pace me. But there was a fair bit of climbing in this next section and we moved slowly over it. I was fairly confident that we were going to finish the run but I was falling apart physically and starting to wonder just how long it was going to take. Though thoroughly enjoying the company and thankful to no longer be alone, I was growing more discontent with how slow I was going. Alissa told me to eat at one point and I started to disagree, and as I was explaining why I didn't need to eat I realized she was right, I needed to eat. Even when I think I am all together with it, I am usually not. Alissa and Robbie were helpful through here as they carried on conversations and reminded us to eat. 

At Lookout Mountain aid station we feasted on pancakes and syrup, one of the easier things to eat over the entire day. We left there and met AJ Johnson and ran a ways with him, he had run more than a dozen 100s and told us about his favorites and his hopefuls. We met a few other runners through these next miles and one of them made mention that we were on pace for a 32 hour finish. That really woke me up, I wasn't happy with the notion in the least. I had come to terms that we weren't running sub 28 or probably even sub 30, but 2 am just felt overwhelming when it was only the middle of the afternoon. I knew we hadn't been moving well for hours but I also was really begin to feel depleted. My hips and quads were telling me that 32 hours might just be so. I was falling behind my group and decided that whether it be ill advised I needed to call in the help of Vitamin I. I took two and a handful of Tums for good measure.

The pain in my knees did not subside but I did start to feel the slightest bit better. Todd and I talked about how awful we had been to our friends, we took out our sharpies and made notes to apologize to Kevin and Brenton at Dowell's. We ran to where the White Oak Loop splits and I knew it was fairly 'runnable' from here to the next Aid Station, I told Todd, Robbie and Alissa to get in front of me and just run. I told them not to worry I would do what I could to keep the pace, just have Alissa look back every 5 minutes or so to see if I am still back here. We ran very well from here on in to Dowell's, just running and not focusing on what hurt. Todd had said we should aim to get to Dowell's by 5 pm, I was quite happy when we made it to Dowell's just after 4. Originally I had planned to change shoes here but I decided not to fix what wasn't bothering me, one pair of Stinsons saw me through Western States, this pair will see me through Grindstone I decided.

We left Robbie and Alissa here and I picked up Anna for the final miles. Kevin had warm Mac and Cheese for us that Opal had made, it was the BEST food I had all day, I drank Mountain Dew and swapped packs. There were a lot of people there and we slowed to talk to several of them. Kevin told me we had 5:45 left. I told him nope, I don't have a 28 hour finish, and he just said assuredly that we could do it. I had not believed it for a moment, the 32 hour comment having taken up residence, I knew we had killed too much time, laid on the ground at aid stations, hiked too many runnable sections, but he said it with such fervor, that it made me wonder just what we could do.

To the Totem Pole

I really didn't think we could run those final 22 miles in 5:45, but I wanted to know what I had left in me. Leaving Dowell's I took the lead and ran what I could, occasionally Todd would remind me that I could hike, Anna reminded me to eat. Anna told me to put my music back in. We started to cover the ground quickly, I felt awful but I also knew that I was feeling better than I had just a short while before, that darkness was coming, I wanted to make the most of the daylight we had left. We passed this guy, Joe, and he hung with us. We were running smooth and he was complimenting us and it just motivated me to run even better. I started to feel more confident that we could make it to the finish before midnight, this just continued to feed my desire. Once or twice Todd had to reel me in, but I wanted better than 30 hours. I tried not to think about all the mistakes I had made so far during the run, instead I remembered how bad the last 20 miles of Western were and really appreciated how much better I was running this time around. My knees felt awful but I was still pushing through that pain.

We were running up a hill and I felt what I thought was my mole skin move off of my blood blister and it HURT, I stopped and sat down to fix it on the side of the trail only to realize there was blood on the side of my shoe, then on my sock. The mole skin hadn't moved, the blister had just finally popped. I put the sock and shoe back on as fast as I could and just kept moving. That spot felt better after the blood blister popped but my left foot second toe just continued to grow more painful. 

Coming into Dry Branch Gap is downhill, we were running so well, it felt really good, I wondered how long it would last. As we approached the aid station I didn't see our crew, finally I saw Alissa waving her hands and then I saw Kevin coming up from where the cars were. I was feeling a little out of it mentally even though I was still running ok. There wasn't anything appealing at the aid station so they gave me some food from my box, but I struggled to eat it. We swapped packs a final time and said goodbye's. Kevin and Alissa were going to get pizza and meet us at the finish. I started moving up hill and I hear Kevin call my name, I turn to find him running up the hill out of the aid station with a Mountain Dew, about the same time Todd and I both yell "don't run Kevin" and he just smiled and said it's fine, he thought I needed something more, he could tell I wasn't looking very good either. He was right and that Mountain Dew is pretty much responsible for the last of my good running. Within an hour I would fall apart.

We left and were still climbing well, running towards night and the finish. We lost our friend Joe who didn't want to hang onto our climbing pace. We stopped and took in the sights on the climb, again as much as the climbing hurt, the view was magnificent. We pressed on but our hopes of making it to Elliott's before dark were mostly dashed, however we had been moving really well, enough that we all now believed a sub 28 was possible.

But the climb to Elliott's was longer than I had remembered outbound and the dark slowed us more than I would have thought. The night slipped in and the pain in my knees became ever more present. We made it to Elliott's and ran the downhill well but then the distance to the next aid station seemed to go on forever. I was fighting with a lot of pain so I took two more Ibuprofen but they didn't work as much as the first had, my knees weren't affected by the medicine, just telling me to stop. The service road was marked enough but was still a slight bit confusing, the closer we got to the aid station the harder the markers were to see. It was like the course had been marked with outbound in mind, but was harder to follow inbound. On the way to the final aid station I told Todd and Anna I didn't want to stop at the aid station, we would give them our numbers and just keep on moving through, they agreed. We were all ready to be done. In retrospect, we shouldn't have told Alissa and Kevin to go o to the finish, it was our choice, but one I now slightly regret, those last miles were tough. 

Little did we know just how cruel and miserable those last 5-6 miles would be. We left the last aid station around 8:30 pm, I knew we would have to move well to hit the sub 28 hours but we were pretty confident about it. However, the trail was difficult to follow and we just didn't trust our gut to take us the right way. Anna led the whole time and even she in her fresh mind had a hard time finding the streamers, there were times when the three of us would be stopped with our three headlamps looking for the next streamer and even though we were never lost it just started to wear me down. I kept eating when Anna told me to, but not the 3 or 4 crackers I had been eating, now it was one cracker or a few M&Ms. That was all my fault. But it just created a downward spiral.

And the more I felt we were going to get lost the more reluctant I became and I would stop until Anna would see a streamer. It just felt like a maze and I was just too far gone to face it from a positive place. And I kept watching the time slip away, for a while I thought we were chasing the 28 hours but when that was no longer going to happen I gave up, I walked it. Todd tried to get me to move, Anna would try to get me to move and I would run or shuffle three feet and then stop again. It just went down and down further until I felt at the brink of tears. Our friend Joe appeared, he thought we could still do 28:10. We followed him a ways until he disappeared but then we found him lost along the dam. It was frustrating and I was cursing the race and the extra 1.85 that whole final 1.85. I didn't recognize anything, I felt like we must have missed something and were wondering in circles. But then we finally saw Blake and the rest of our crew and remembered where we were from the start. Joe, Todd and I crossed together at 28:29, I was too upset to really care, just happy to be done.

The After

The next two hours is a scene of caring friends bringing me drinks and coats and warm blankets, bringing me clothes and helping me to the showers, I felt feeble and embarrassed and yet so thankful for their helping hands. I couldn't get warm, I was nauseous, I was a little out of my head, I am just so happy I had people who care there even though they had been up for a night already because of me. Anna wasn't feeling well and she and Alissa hit the road soon after, Anna had been such an amazing help those final miles and never even let on in the slightest that she wasn't feeling well.

I took to my tent for some sleep, but the cold awoke me an hour or so later. I grabbed a blanket and headed for the finish line. I had seen Clifton finish before midnight. It was now 3 am, I asked Clark if Chelsie and Mike had finished, they had not. I decided to hang out until they did. It was my hope that all five of us could finish, I wanted to stay up until they were all safe and sound back in the camp. Once they were all there I could no longer stay awake and was falling asleep at the table so I went back to the tent for another hour of sleep. 

The next morning we stayed for the breakfast and award ceremony (you get buckled as you cross the finish). Horton passed out Hellgate applications and the lodge was full of people. We got heaping plates of eggs and grits and sat around telling stories with our friends. I had gotten up to get a cup of coffee and was headed back to my seat when Horton stopped me and told me that I was just as strong as the top 5 women, that really really touched me. I am not as sure of myself, not as sure that 100 miles is a good distance for me. Especially as my knees currently feel they've been hammered but there is just something about the distance that I feel draws me to it, even if I am not very good at it. It takes an awful lot to prepare for, and though certainly better prepared this go round I still feel I came up a little short in my own expectations.   I believe there is just something deeper and more appealing to me about the distance, when it is all said and done, I like the raw feeling it induces, I like the challenge, I like the wonder, the risk. 

The Days that follow

I didn't have clearly set goals going into Grindstone, I knew I wanted to, that I needed to finish.  And I did. I believe I trained better than I did for Western States. But I know that my head still stands as my biggest opponent.Yet this time around I feel more eager to run another 100, that I am slowly figuring it out, and that I could do better, with a little more work. 

There were many highlights in the run for me though they might not have shone so brightly in the retelling. Running with Todd was by far the biggest, especially that moment on Reddish when we were both beat and nearly broken, that the colors and expansive view led us, if only for a moment, away from all the lows. We were together, in all of that uncertainty, and I was reminded of how many struggles we have pushed through together. It was a moment we drank it on the mountain top and I will continue to pull energy from for as long as I can recall it, which I hope to be forever. 

There were also the other people, especially my crew, but other runners, volunteers. Todd argued with me last week when we were discussing my run at Western States, that I alone ran those miles. I am sorry but I just do not agree, I do not see it that way. I needed those people, both last year in California and again over the weekend, and you will just not get me to see it differently. I am forever indebted to the selfless act of good friends who gave me their time, who may have grown quiet but not moved away in my time of need, you are such a large part of this story for me, I fear I will never be able to thank you or repay your kindness. 

The highlights also include the company of the rain, the sound of it blanketed me in those dark hours when I thought that I had failed.  I usually dread wetness, my soft feet being my Achilles Heel, but I chose instead to make friends with the rain. The same went for the darkness, it has been my biggest fear going in, but once I was out there, it didn't seem as big and scary. I was proud of myself, when I let go of wanting to hold onto someone in the night, when I came completely at ease with going it alone, knowing that it wouldn't last and it would soon enough be morning. 

Another highlight was in those later miles, going up Crawford I believe it was, to feel so absolutely awful and yet finding another gear regardless of that discomfort, and the realization only acted to boost me further onward. I really wish I hadn't let that last bonk happen, but I am thankful for the beautiful miles that preceded it. 

Speaking of beauty, the Grindstone 100's being held the first weekend of October makes it all the more amazing, for all the suffering you are rewarded with the most breathtaking views. The fact that you know you missed all the beauty in the dark on the way out somehow makes it even more powerful, that what once you had passed without knowing you now have the second chance to take in all the wonder. 

As much as the run tested me, it must also be noted, it equally rewarded me. 

just some words

Running is a individual action, one foot placed in front of the other, over and over again. Simple, repetitive, solitary. But running, this most basic lonely action, draws people together through competition,common goals, compassion, commiseration. The suffering intrinsic to the pursuit of growth forges bonds between runners.

Ultra running is just running. Just running over extremely long distances and more often then not extremely difficult terrain. Perhaps it is under these conditions that the best of friends can be made. It is under these conditions that a person is stripped down to their essence. Souls are bared, fears are faced, surreal joy is obtained. We become who we ARE out in the mountains, trekking and trudging over peaks and through valleys for hours on end the trappings of daily life fall away like burdensome baggage left on the trail side.

I have often wondered why it is that I like Ultra-Runners as much as I do. I have always been somewhat misanthropic, I have lived the majority of my life apprehensive of social groups and gatherings. But a few years ago I stumbled upon a group of overly-friendly moderately-dirty trail runners who were so nice and inviting that I thought surely something was amiss. Perhaps it was a cult, or a group of serial cannibals befriending unsuspecting newbies and leading them to some brutal demise in the mountains (cue banjo music). Fortunately my suspicions were overpowered by my reckless love of running through the woods and my desire to run farther and faster. I didn't know it at the time but I was a trail runner.

The community of trail runners seemed as unreal to me as the idea of running, without stopping, for 100 miles. I was initially, and continue to be amazed and inspired by the welcoming attitude of this mismatched group of muddy shoe wearing misfits. Perhaps it is  the fact that we are all a little odd that brings us together. We always say that you have to be at least a little crazy to want to run for 50 or more miles. But I think that there is more to it. Perhaps we have found in ourselves, out there in the mountains and the suffering, that we are all, at our very core, very much the same. That the things that separate people in the real world, are unimportant. That those things are like the clothes that people choose to wear. That we are not crazy or weird at all, that we have embraced the primal urge to push ourselves to our limits because that is where we learn who we are. We have been to the place where only the most real parts of a person are left standing. That we have been there, and back again.

A dear friend of mine, who I met on the trail and shared many miles with, was lost this week. Mike Donahue exemplified everything good and pure and strong. Mike knew what was important, and embraced everyone as a friend. I remember when I first met Mike, and several particular runs and races with him stand out sharply in my memory. The One that stands out the most (other than the time we were struck by lightening together) is Holiday Lake 50K a couple of years ago when Mike had just had surgery for cancer and probably shouldn't have been out there at all. But there he was. He was clearly suffering that day, but trying not to show it, instead encouraging everyone around him to do their best. When I met him in the woods he admitted that he was suffering but that he would be fine. He told me to run on without him and have a good day. That is how I remember him. He always said "everyday is a good day," an attitude that I assumed came from his time in combat, where the preciousness and fragility of life must stand out much more clearly than most of us ever experience in our soft protected lives. Lives that men like Mike and his brothers make possible.

His family lost a pillar of strength. His friends lost a contagious smile and a strong handshake, and an encouraging word. His Country lost a strong selfless leader who did everything with confidence and unshakable dedication. I lost a friend who I respected like a father and loved like a brother. His fellow soldiers lost a brother who would, and did, lay down his life for them without hesitation. A man who did what he believed in. A man who lived his life the best way he could. An example to all of us to get real, and to find our purpose. Mike lived with purpose, and I am sad beyond words to have lost him.

In my desperation to hold on to Mike this week, I have been reflecting on what Mike has left us, and it is substantial. I think the best way to honor Mike is to try to be more like the people that Mike believed us to be. I think that he could see down to our core and he knew that each of us had greatness within us. I want to live more like Mike lived, but more importantly, like the man he believed that I am, or that I could be. Mike believed in the inherent goodness in each of us, and he would want us to be better. More accepting. More giving. More encouraging. Stronger. Fearless.

I have been given the great honor of running with the color guard in an upcoming race The Virginia 10 Miler to honor Mike, and although this means  a great deal to me, to be chosen out of all the many friends that Mike had in this town, I intend to live the rest of my life honoring Mike Donahue.  To run the rest of my miles with him. In two weeks I will run the Grindstone 100 miler for Mike. This is the only race I know of that Mike had attempted and failed to finish and I know that he had planned to go back next year for redemption. I will carry you with me brother.

I know that everyone that knew Mike will carry him with them. Forever. And in that way Mike will live on, and though it may be diluted, his joy of life will still spread through the world. We should all hope to live a life with such an impact on so many people.

The world is sad to have lost Major Mike Donahue. But the world is better to have had him for the short time he was here.


-Todd

Race Report: Highland Sky 40 Miler...Roll With It

Highland Sky 40 Miler

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Canaan Valley, WV

I registered for Highland Sky this year after hearing Jeremy Ramsey sing its praises for over a year, he spoke of its beauty and swore I would love it before I registered but then it seemed he changed gears after my entrance was solidified and discussed the courses varied demands and difficulties. At that point it didn't matter, a large group of us had signed on for whatever the course and day would bring.

Earlier in the year I had thought about making Highland Sky my "A" race but then as I focused more and more energy on the trail marathon coming first in early June I decided it may rather end up a "C" race. When the marathon went even better than I had expected I spent the next two weeks running very little, no long runs just a few higher intensity runs was all. Racing Highland Sky was the furthest thing from my mind yet in retrospect this may have all been for the best.

However, I know what 'training through' a race looks like. At least I know what it looks like for me, Iron Mountain remains the ugliest race I've ever had and I swore I would always have goals when attempting a run that long, whether it's a race or not. When the week of Highland Sky arrived I really tried to focus on a goal or two, I wasn't nervous other than for the fact that I wasn't nervous, that I had no goals set.

Then luckily Jamie Swyers started inquiring as to what I thought I might do, when I told her I had no idea she helped me out, somewhere in our conversation she said something about 7:48 being tenth fastest time at HS for females. Unfortunately, this information wasn't accurate, turns out last year was a pretty fast time for girls. But 7:48 stuck with me, I thought I might try for 7:45.

The night before the race a large group of Blue Ridge Trail Runners stayed in a local cabin together, there were friends pouring from the loft and hanging on the deck. Sometimes I can be wound tight and high strung, a little too controlling and a little less than fun, especially when a race is looming. I vowed for my friends sake, upon arriving at the cabin, and for the preservation of friendships, to just roll with it. I liked the sound of that and decided to make it my mantra for Saturday's race, just roll with whatever the day delivers.

After an evening of preparations and a night of poor sleep we were on our way to the race with just a stop in at the Canaan Valley Resort for coffee and check-in. In the banquet hall I saw Horton. He asked if I was going to beat my 'seed', 106. I told him I was going to try. He remarked that I had been running well as of late and told me to save some to run the last few miles well.

At the start line Tammy Gray and Todd wished us well and we were on our way. The first section was on road and a group of BRTR that included Dennis, Charlie, Sam, Kevin and I ran along together. I was looking for Jamie but she had set off like a rocket down that road. At the first aid station (1.8 miles) I stopped to fill my bottle, having only a 20 oz to see me through the day I vowed to fill it at every possible stop. I had to run a little harder to catch back up with my friends but I was feeling surprisingly good. We caught up with Jamie just before the trail section. Once on trail I kept up at a good clip and with Charlie still in sight I thought I might use him as a rabbit. For a few miles I ran with him in sight, though never able to catch him. Finally in a climb of switchbacks I lost sight of Charlie for the day.

Not long after I lost sight of Charlie the terrain changed. It went from woodland to a somewhat rocky range. There were countless white rocks or varying size, shoe sucking mud and black water puddles. It was hard to find a rhythm, it was hard (for me anyways) to set a good pace. It wasn't terrain that suited my strengths and once of twice I thought I might be off course which caused me to slow further. As the miles ticked away I found myself having less and less fun. I heard a cheery sounding female behind me, I figured it was Jamie.

I came into AS2 (10.5 miles) in 2:05. I wasn't all that happy about that but was surprised when Horton said I was first female. Then out of the woods behind me came Jamie. I wasn't too happy to be first female, not at mile 10. I don't usually win ultras, and never ever from the start. I like to take it out slow and steady and keep it that way. Being first but not feeling like being chased I was in a funk. I drank two cups of water and had my bottle filled. I left running down a gravel road but once we turned on trail again I heard Jamie talking to the man with her, something about us running a lot together back home. We do run a lot together, I thought, why don't you run with her now. She caught up with me and we started chatting and then I fell down. She said she'd already fallen twice but the fall I took just lowered my spirits even more. I let her get in front and I told her I wasn't having a good day. She immediately set about raising me up, she tried to remind me that I am strong and that I would find my race in the miles to come. She was running very strong and was such an uplifting presence I was so thankful for her being there during those next few miles.

She said there was a female right behind us but wouldn't it be nice if we could secure first and second. She sounded confident in our ability to do just that. We talked about other Blue Ridge runners and hoped they were having a good day. When she took to walking up a hill and took a salt pill I ate three more Tums (I had taken three at the start) and a salt pill (my only one for the day). Then we got lost for a quick moment and I was further thankful she was there. We went back to where we had gotten off track and there was a second roped creek crossing. At this point, having gotten lost and feeling Jamie's confidence rubbing off on me I started wanting to push a little. Jamie was running well and setting a good pace.

We came into AS3 together and I drank a cup of water and had my bottle filled. We took off once more hoping to make it to the next AS in 4 hours. There was some climbing though immediately and I began to doubt us. Then a short while later I had to go to the bathroom. I looked for a good spot to go off course but finally decided to just let Jamie pull ahead and then just stop on the trail to pee. With my bladder empty I decided to try and catch back up to Jamie. I started running a little faster than I had been and I slipped on a rock, threw down my water bottle into some thick black sludge and caught myself. With my bottle and hands filthy I got back up for the chase. I didn't think I would catch her before AS4, but I convinced myself if I could, that maybe I could win the race at hand for the day, it was about the only time all day I allowed myself just the littlest cockiness. Smooth, just roll with it.

I caught Jamie just before the road that takes you to AS4, she said we were doing great, that we only had to maintain a 12 minute pace for the second half to break 8 hours. It sounded so manageable (spoiler alert: it sounded way easier than it was!). Coming out to a gravel road we saw Horton and Brenton. Horton was yelling at us before I was even close enough to hear him, he was yelling at us though something about our jaw muscles getting more work than our legs, this was a race, a R-A-C-E, there would only be one winner.

If I have a trigger word, Horton had just used it. I immediately took advantage of the glorious road ahead and the ability to fall into a pace, any pace, and be able to maintain it. It was a longer stretch before the aid station than I expected after seeing Horton but I still made it there just shy of 4 hours. Tammy was cheering for me, Todd and Jordan were there to fill my bottle and had a chair set up at the back of the van that I took advantage of to empty debris from my Hokas.

Grabbing a few more GU and two more Milky Way minis I set off on the 'Road across the Sky', as I left Todd handed me my filled bottle and Horton offered me some golden Oreos. Taking two I was on my way. I looked back once to see Jamie, she was still right behind me. The next seven miles were really pretty great for me. I could set a pace and keep at it, I could let my mind wander. The first half had been a little taxing with all the technical rocks and puddles of unknown depth. I ran but four short stretches along the road, all uphill and in the shade, never for more than a count of 30. At the aid station in the middle I had a piece of watermelon and met a fellow runner who lived in the area, had run the race 10 times I think he said. He warned of the Tundra like terrain of the Dolly Sods, he said they always seemed to get him.  I had allowed myself my ipod at AS4 but turned it off when I came across a runner.

Finally, I reached the Dolly Sods. At the aid station before the turn I drank a little Mountain Dew, ate a piece of chex mix and decided I couldn't do anymore. I filled my bottle and asked about the terrain ahead. Then I met a group of hikers and they asked where I was from, I said Virginia and they said I was the first girl they had seen. The first 27 miles had been unique and enjoyable but I absolutely loved the Dolly Sods. They reminded me of Western States a little and also of nothing I have ever run along. If I was encouraged to return to Highland Sky it would be this section, the open ranges, the big white boulders and the blue sky. They were tough, gradual deceiving climbs, more puddles and shoe sucking mud, bright shining mid-afternoon sunshine, but they were also breathtaking. The trail was marked well but being a first timer it was still hard to follow a time or two.

I kept waiting and waiting for the boulder hopping section and was so delighted when it finally arrived. It meant I was allowed to drink my water (I had been preserving it) and that I wasn't too far off of the next aid station. It was harder to follow the path than actually hop the boulders and I was glad when AJW passed me because I could follow him for a moment instead of having to stop every 30 feet to look around and locate the next flag or marker. But as comes as no surprise from a several time top 10 finisher at WS, I could not match his graceful pace, it wasn't long and he was out of sight. He was the only runner in the entire second half to pass me, if it was going to be anyone, it may as well be AJW, a man I admire from afar.

I arrived at AS7 and Aaron S. of the infamous Hellgate description was there. We left the aid station behind AJW and I re-introduced myself to Aaron having met him at Hellgate. He let me lead but then I let him get in front after a run in with a herd of horses. I asked him to describe what was ahead and his description was rather entertaining just like that of Hellgate. On the climb up the slope I pulled ahead because I still thought I could keep with AJW (I couldn't). The course then took you back into the woods and I tore off down the trail in pursuit, clearly I wasn't paying as good attention as I should because next I knew I was back out of the top of the ski slope, no sign of AJW ahead, no Aaron behind me, no orange markers to guide me. Up until this point I had been running the second half really well. But now I was at least temporarily lost and I had to run back in hopes of finding orange markers again. When I did I wasn't even certian which way to follow them. I felt like I was losing precious time, I couldn't see any other runners to help guide me and I completely lost my mental mojo.

The next section, that I believe they reference the butt slide section, was awful. I kept stopping because I really wasn't sure I was on the right path and feared getting lost again though I managed to follow the streamers correctly from there on. I didn't know how long I had been lost or how much time it had cost me. When I came across Aaron again he was a little turned around and was just getting back on track, I told him I had taken a wrong turn and he assured me he had seen no females in my absence.

We finally came out of the woods and Horton and Brenton were waiting there in the grass. We stopped briefly and then I remembered it was a race and I ran on. I came into AS8 and drank a cup of Mountain Dew as I looked everywhere for Todd. I asked Tammy if she had seen him but she said she hadn't and that he would have been there already if he was coming, she said maybe he wanted to make sure he was at the finish line. They told me it was a little over 4 to go, mostly roads, and I was off.

I would love to say that I ran really well here, but I don't feel like I did. I walked only once through this next section and it was just the top of a hill but the running I was doing seemed slow. I ate a GU, I didn't want to, I knew I could finish without it but I remembered Todd telling me after another race I could have run better if I had eaten a GU. I looked behind a time or two and I saw a man running hard catching Aaron. Then later I looked again and he was even closer, I wandered if I was mistaken, maybe it was a female chasing me down. I ran a little harder. Through the grassy field that was even more difficult to traverse than it looked like it should be. And then I crossed the road and ran again what felt hard but slow. I was so thankful when I saw the mile to go sign but I told myself that it wasn't over to the finish line. Much of that last mile was on trail. I ran the first part hard but I was further from the finish than I had hoped, I slowed, then slowed further. Then a hill made me take to walking. Finally I emerged from the trail and saw Todd, I was so tired that I even faltered for a moment to figure out how to get across the grass 'on course' but I managed. Coming down the concrete hill to the finish I was a little crushed when I saw the time clock, I hadn't made 7:45. But I reminded myself that I got a little lost, and I still did ok, 7:46:17.

Once across the finish line Dan Lehmann told me that I had won a better sweater, free entry into next year's race and accommodations. I was surprised, I had no idea, I laughed that I had decided I was never running that race again but now I might reconsider and that had I known I might have run a little harder, but it was all in jest. It was a beautiful course and I want redemption for a few mistakes along the day. I want Todd, who was amazing crew and support as always, to go back and run it too.

I pleased myself in several ways, I drank fairly well for me and ate nearly perfectly (8 GU, 6 peanut butter crackers, watermelon, 2 Milky Ways, 1 Oreo, 2 cups Mountain Dew, and a few bites of odds and ends at aid stations) but I know I didn't push hard enough most of the day. I can't really comprehend racing an ultra like Frank talks about. I try to push but running outside of comfort when you're running for 40 miles is still a little difficult for me to comprehend. My quads were a little sore Sunday afternoon but I didn't have any cramps during the race and my calves felt better than they did after the spring ultras. I feel like I could have gone about it a little better, run a little stronger and yet I am not sure really how much stronger and I am happy nonetheless with the turnout.

As ridiculous as this may sound I was most disappointed that my 7:46 was not an all time top ten time. I think that proves that where as I may know I may not be course record setting material for an ultra of this size that competitive streak still runs a little deep within. But then, we knew that already.

-Alexis

Conquer the Cove Trail Marathon 2014 Race Report

Conquer the Cove Marathon

Carvin's Cove, Virginia

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Where to start? Where to start? I think it may be fitting to actually start after Terrapin. In a post race funk following Terrapin I decided I was going to train better for Promise Land, I was going to go for a personal best, a 'whoa' time even of sub 6 hours. But despite a descent effort I didn't make my goals for the day. I was training a little better but I was still lacking some things. Moving forward I set my sights on two things, convincing myself to move forward with an attempt to finish the Beast Series (read: register for Grindstone) and running a personal best at Carvin's Cove, the last of my 'fast' running/racing for the year.

I've run Conquer the Cove every year since it started, I did the 25k in its inaugural year in 2011, 19 weeks pregnant with baby Brodie. I ran the marathon, my first official one of road or trail, the following year when I used the Mountain Junkies RNUTs to get back into shape post-baby and surprisingly placed first female in a time of 4:05. Last year I ran it (and another 15 later in the day) as part of my last long run before heading west to California for Western States. This year adding the marathon to my race schedule was about several things, it was about using the endurance I had built over the spring and fine tuning it with speed work, it was about gauging my fitness as I try to return to and surpass where I was in fitness in the spring of 2012, and then it became as the race itself approached, a test of positive thinking.

How many times do people say 'trust your training'? Well, if you're me you hear it a lot. Well meaning friends have, for the better part of the time I've known them, tried to convince me that I could run faster, be better. But I suffer from severe self doubt, pessimism, and fear of failure. Despite these facts, I registered for the marathon because I like racing and I was actually looking forward to some shorter, faster running.

Then last Thursday I went running with Kevin. We were talking about all things running when I told him the depths to which my fears drive me, I told him that I really am fearing finishing races like Grindstone and Masochist after Grindstone. He did his best to try and instill some confidence in me and even gave me a few mental 'exercises' to work on for the fear and negativity. When I told Todd about our conversation he drove the same ideas home. I struggled to understand what they are really seeing in me, but I also knew I had put in more work this year and that I was feeling fairly strong as of late. I tried to do something different, I tried to believe what they were trying to sell to me. I started to think about not only a PR come race day, but breaking 4 hours. I thought about the course record, and could I possibly have a shot at that? Friday at dinner during a conversation regarding the race Todd told me he thought I could be closer to 3:40, I told him he was out of his mind. Kevin said 3:50. I thought I liked the sound of 3:54.

I tried not to get too nervous, I tried to rely on trusting the training. I was a little worried about my shoes, I hadn't worn my Hoka Stinsons since Promise Land because they'd bothered my feet during that race but all of my other shoes were just a little too worn out to race a marathon in. I had to go with the Hokas. I was a little worried about breakfast, a donut, but then when will I ever learn about eating right?

I wore my Mountain Hardwear vest filled with Strawberry Banana (5) and Salted Caramel (1) GU and carried my Nathan 20oz bottle with toilet paper and another GU. I wore my favorite Nike tempo race shorts that I have no idea where or when I got and can't replace (I've tried) because I always do OK when I wear them.

Getting started that morning I didn't see Todd or Courtney. I always start a little near the back and was worried that I had already lost sight of them. I was running that first road section looking everywhere for Courtney when finally she ran up beside me. She'd had some trouble with a new vest at the start and was actually behind me, I joked that we were running too fast if she was behind me but the pace was in retrospect a good thing, falling into the faster pace from the start made it easier to continue at that pace. I was running with her and Walker and my buddy Robbie from Lynchburg when we hit trail.

We were running the Trough, a steep 1.1 mile climb when I decided I was feeling pretty good and was going to go around Courtney. It was funny because when I went around her she said "Alexis, tell me about your childhood" and Walker said "Start from the beginning!" But I had to get moving. Over the next mile I ended up walking 3 times for a brief few seconds. Todd had advised I run the whole thing but I felt bad when I was passing 25k people like Marshall, that I was running too fast. As much as I wanted to break away from my comfort box in this race I also FEAR bonking and falling apart like no other runner you've probably ever met.

When I got to AS 1 I made a point to learn from last years mistakes and took the time to stop and fill my bottle and I am glad I did. After that water stop the climbing is over for the moment and there is a semi technical downhill that follows, I was passed by a half dozen runners on this section, but I did the best I could. I was feeling pretty good and was still hitting a nice pace. I just tried to hold steady.

Then the trail sort of flattened out to a nice rolling in and out of switchbacks and I started to worry I had been running too fast. Then I realized what really fails me is my HEAD in a race. I don't drink right, I don't eat right, I worry and whine to myself. I decided that the goal above all others for the day, was to remain as optimistic as possible. I ate a GU on my schedule and made a note of when to take the next, I worked on finishing the water in my bottle, I decided when I would be allowed my iPod (mile 18) and focused on running smooth and comfortable, remaining positive.

On the way to the second Aid Station I met a runner doing the 25k who had a knee injury but had run Boston, Richmond and the Shamrock marathon. He took my mind off of the task at hand but also had me thinking about road marathons. When we split at the aid station I filled my bottle and looked at my watch, I was running a little fast. I let off just a little and set my sights on the next runner ahead. I never met this runner but I followed him for nearly ten miles, he ran a very steady pace and I didn't have to worry about getting lost following him, and once I even got him back on track.  We came into aid stations with volunteers so uplifting and encouraging. They joked that I was fast for a girl at one point and that made me smile. I kept filling up my water bottle and working on emptying it between water stops. I never stopped longer at an aid station then it took to get my bottle refilled.

We ran through the beautiful and serene Enchanted Forest and Schoolhouse. They are some of the most beautiful trails I've ever run, and fairly fast though I could feel my pace dropping a little as the miles wore on. Between miles 13-15 I started to get a little fatigued, I met my wall you could say, a little early. I jumped on my positive thinking bandwagon and reminded myself of runs I had done, of previous Conquer the Cove races (it's amazing what will come back to you during a run on familiar terrain you only run once a year). I had just finished telling myself we were doing well and that the race was still ahead, up the climb up Brushy Mtn Road when my left knee started to hurt. It was almost laughable, I was just having this confidence building pep-talk and my knee starts to pound. And then I remembered the quote, 'Your body achieves what your mind believes'. I focused on my mind pushing through my knee pain, and it worked! I wasn't injured, just starting to fall apart a little, but I just kept on reminding myself to smile and enjoy it and it really worked for the most part. My legs were tight, my stomach a little troublesome and my knee pounding, but I just kept thinking of what I had put into my training to get here, what I wanted and where I was headed.

I thought about Frank G. He told me he looks at a race like his job. I thought about the race as my 'job' as an assignment I'd given myself. I gave myself four hours to do it. If you work harder, I'll let you off early, I told myself. At a little past 13 miles I looked at my watch, I'd run for 1:51, last year at about this point I was at 2:07, I decided that was a pretty good sign and that even if things hurt they would still hurt if I slowed down. Better to keep the same pace and finish 'work' early.

I started focusing my positive thoughts to the climb approaching, even if I slowed here through the middle miles, I told myself I had to be ready to take on that hill. I've been told I climb well, I had to make that count especially today, especially if I wanted a chance at breaking the course record. I kept telling myself things I knew I needed to hear, that I wanted to do well, that I'd been wanting to hit goals all spring and had felt the disappointment for days and weeks afterwards. Have no regrets, I told myself. Don't wish on Monday, work today. My stomach was becoming troublesome after GU #3. And then, to further test me, my calves started to cramp. I drank more water, I pushed taking a pit stop as long as felt relatively necessary and comfortable. After my pit stop my stomach did feel better but my calves were scaring me, it was too early to be cramping, not even 17 miles in. But I was running faster than I ever run for even 17 miles. I let myself slow just a tad and did start to worry the slightest bit, because at this point I knew I was on target for a course record but still had nearly ten miles left, I was worried I would lose it to cramps.

As I ran towards the climb, my pace slowed and I told myself that I would drink, that I would not let a course record rule me, that I was going to do all that I could and know that I had given my best for the day either way.

Coming out to the Happy Valley Fireroad my legs had me scared. I saw spectators and Sarah Taylor right before the turn to Brushy Mountain Fireroad. Sarah said I looked strong and wasn't I happy that I didn't have an extra 20 miles to run after today's race referencing last year's race. I thought back to last year and how I remembered the first part of Brushy Mountain Fireroad climb to be the toughest, I got ready for 'the climb' and then there she was.

Slow and steady, smile, relax. The climb to the aid station was as tough as I remembered but longer than I could recall. Nearing the aid station I wanted to walk, to take a break. But then there were volunteers cheering and ushering compliments that I couldn't stop for more than the time to get some water from their pitchers. Those few steps and then it was back to running the climb. I turned on my iPod.

And it didn't work!! It was brand new! Bought the day before. I was frustrated, this was my simple plan falling apart on me at the toughest part of the day. I fooled with it for several minutes but it was playing music without any vocals. At least it was sound, I thought I'd muster through. Two songs later it was driving me crazy. I started fooling with it some more. Finally, I realized the headphones just weren't all the way attached. Silly tired girl. In retrospect the fooling with the iPod let that first area pass without much thought to the actual uphill running. Once the iPod was working it was all about the climbing. I started to think about Todd, he thought I could run every step of that hill, something I have never done in the three previous years running. I really, really wanted to be able to tell him that I had indeed run every step of that hill. So I kept on moving forward. I told myself to work harder, get the climb over sooner. The legs felt better climbing then they did running faster on the rolling stuff.

I decided at mile 20 (the course was marked with mile markers) that I would allow myself to look at my watch again. I figured if it said sub 3 we (the brain and legs and I) could pull off a course record. At just past mile 20 the road turns, I looked at my watch, 2:53. I was out of my mind ecstatic at that moment, like the race was over and won. I got a little emotional, I really thought for the first time all day that it was not a maybe but I could pull off a course record if I could keep strong. I told myself not to cry (yes, I really did) because we were cramping and that crap would dehydrate us. But mentally, I was in a new place now.

And then I was ready for the climb to be over, I hadn't remembered how rolling the top of the fireroad was before you get to the aid station. I felt like I should be running faster but I was also out of water. And cramping. I ate another GU, the last for the day. I came into the aid station and drank some water and had my bottle filled. I hated to kill even a second but I thought I had to get water in me.

Leaving the aid station you have a steep downhill. Last year I had run it strong. This year I aimed to do the same but was worried about the legs. I started downhill and a runner passed me, he said he'd never seen someone climb so fast, I know it was just a compliment, I don't climb THAT fast but it did feel good to hear. I told him it was what I do best so I did what I could. But I thought to myself, I wish I could downhill like you. And before the thought was even completed he was gone and out of sight. I was running well when the calf cramps came on like a vengeance. I had to slow and then slow further, I drank more water but then I started to feel the water in my stomach sloshing and began to feel nauseous, I knew these cramps weren't just dehydration. I was torn between drinking more and feeling sick. The muscles in my calves felt so tight and they were cramping every minute but they weren't as bad as Terrapin or Promise Land. I was thankful to have the recent memory of cramps that were debilitating to make me run through the ones I was now experiencing.

I fought through those cramps and I fought being angry about them. I knew I could be running faster, but I focused on what I had left. I thought I was running too slow and that my 3:50 for Kevin was lost, that the course record was lost, that I wasn't 'getting off work early'. I vowed not to look at my watch and let my body do what it could, not challenge it with time goals. I tried to 'engage' other muscles to help the calves, but that proved to only show me how tired my quads were too, and inadequate. Then my right hand cramped too probably because of the asinine but comfortable way I hold my water bottle. I passed Decker and he said I looked strong. I felt awful. I kept telling myself, 3.5 miles to go, 3 miles, 2.5 etc. as I passed the mile markers for the 25k and marathon.

The cramps became their worse on the flat Horse Pen. I tried to fight them but they were taking me down, I wanted to run through them, I knew I was so close to being done, but I was also a little worried because they got like they were at Promise Land where they seem to lock up my legs. I had to stop and work the right leg out, just for a  moment, and then took a 30 second walk break, the first since the climb up the Trough. When I went back to running after that walk break they felt a little better, they seemed a little loosened up. The trail started to climb a little and I hoped we were near the final section, the paved road.

Finally coming out of the trail I stopped at the aid station and drank water. I didn't bother filling my bottle but just drank a cup at the water stop. The volunteers there told me I had a mile left. Pulling away from the aid station, after some thought and deliberation, I decided to allow myself to look at my watch figuring it would perhaps push me if I was really close. My watch said 3:40. 3:40! This was another awesome moment of the race. I knew if I could pull off a 15 minute mile I could have the new course record. I started to run. I looked down briefly and saw I was running a 7:22 pace. Pretty impressed with that I thought about Kevin, and that I would really like to tell him I ran sub 3:50, so I pushed a little harder. I was further impressed that I could run anything that fast, that late into a race in which I had felt so crummy the last few miles.

Turning onto the trail section I was ready to finish strong, I ran across the creek and saw mud and streamers everywhere and thought I had taken a wrong turn. I ran back to the creek but a guy coming said I had been going the right way. Frustrated I ran back that way but was still unsure how to maneuver the trail. Then a few steps later I got confused again, I could hear noise at the finish line but couldn't see the trail. I stopped dead and realized a moment later that there were stairs! Doh, Alexis you've run this before, I thought. I was getting really frustrated that I wasn't going to run sub 3:50 after being so convinced I had it in the bag. And then there finally was the red bridge and the finish line.

I crossed in 3:48:36 Good for first female, a new female course record, a new PR (according to Courtney's revelation of the change in course in 2013 it was a PR by 29 minutes!). I was so happy to be done and really pretty proud of myself. It wasn't an easy day, but I had remained considerably positive throughout and rolled with the challenges of the day fairly well. The day was not without mistakes but I am really proud that I stuck with my plans, that I pushed early, that I fought hard all the while staying in a fairly positive place. I really needed the confidence builder a good race is, but I also needed the practice of playing from a positive mindset. The donut for breakfast didn't hurt me too badly nor did the shoes (and I won a pair of Hokas from the Aid Station for coming in first! so I can replace those old Stinsons).

It's been a very, very long time since I was this genuinely happy about the outcome of a race. It was not an easy day, it was hard and yet I didn't fall apart, especially mentally. I would really have loved not to had cramps, especially for so long, but it could have been worse. It's definitely been an eye opener that perhaps I can run faster and stronger than I would really like to admit.

-Alexis

Hat Creek 24 Hour Endurance Run

This was my first time ever attempting a run of this type. The course is a 5 mile loop around the Hat Creek Camp Grounds and Conference Center property which started at noon on Saturday and ran until noon on Sunday. Only completed loops counted towards your total distance. Instead of being a linear run from Point A to Point B, this was a chronological run from Point A to Point A as many times as possible.

Part of me dreaded the idea of a 5 mile loop and the monotony that would bring, but from a logistical stand point it was great because I could stage my own gear and crew and come back to them every 5 miles. In addition to that there was a full aid station at the half way point on the loop, and as it turned out the course was beautiful and the terrain varied enough that it took a long time to get bored. The course was very fast, almost too runnable for such a long endeavor, I consider myself a pretty good hiker and this course did not play to my strengths. No significant downhills and no long uphills, just miles and miles of soft, flat single and double track trails.

When the race started at noon on Saturday the temperature was about 70 degrees, and it only barely warmed up much that afternoon before it started to cool down again as we ran into the night. The weather for the duration of the event was ideal, the only negative weather effects were due to torrential rainfall that occurred two days before. The course follows streams and circles two lakes, and all of the flood water from a Thursday storm had parts of the trail under several inches of water. So the first 6 hours or so were very wet, but the course drained remarkably fast and by midnight, when the 12 hour runners started, the course was all but dry. I don't think that the 6 hour runners even got mud on their shoes!

At the beginning of the run I was very concerned with my pace. Was I running too fast? Was that loop too slow? Kevin yelled at me to slow down after my first loop, but you get used to Kevin yelling at you when he's on your crew (he yells a lot). I didn't wear a watch for the entire event, so the only time I knew how long the loop was taking was when I came into the start/finish area. I thought that if I wore a watch I would be inclined to push myself to maintain some arbitrary splits. So I ran the entire time based on how I felt like running, and I think this worked better than I could have hoped.

The start/finish or transition area was always a highly anticipated stop. Firstly, it was the end of a completed loop, and brought me 5 miles closer to my 100 mile goal. Secondly, it was a smorgasbord of wonderful food and a time when I could stand still for a minute or 5 (sorry Kevin) and eat and drink anything and everything. The race staff had a full aid station here which changed throughout the day: veggie burgers for dinner, coffee all night long, pancakes and syrup in the morning, but in addition to that I had my crew here and we had all sorts of food as well as some surprises brought by unexpected friends who showed up to cheer us on. Which brings me to the third and most anticipated part of the Transition Area, which was the crowd of cheering friends and strangers. This was emotionally recharging, and it never stopped lifting my spirits. Whether it was Alexis asking how I was doing, or Clifton and Bethany showing up unexpectedly and cheering me on, or Horton and Frank giving me a hard time for running so slow, I am thankful and indebted to everyone who was there and helped me through this ordeal, even though a lot of the details are blurry and I can never hope to remember accurately everyone who was there, I want you all to know that you helped me run those miles and I am honored to count you as friends.

The miles went by much easier than I could have hoped. The first few laps were harder than most of the middle miles. By mile twenty I was in a good rhythm where I was eating steady and running slow enough to sustain. The first couple loops were riddled with self doubt and under-eating leading to a near bonk at mile 16! But once I found my groove it was easy enough to maintain. Until the end when the aches and pains were starting to pile up on top of each other and screaming in my head for me to stop already. Mile 70 marked uncharted territory for me, but that milestone slipped by in the night without much notice. Kevin who was running with me at the time pointed it out and continued to motivate me forward. The night came and went and even with the addition of fresh runners on the course we would run for miles without ever seeing anyone.

Except good-ole Zack, he was always there. Whether he was building fire pits, hunting snakes, or just keeping us runners safe from a swarm of ravenous ground bees, Zack was always happy to see me and very encouraging. He maintained the half-way aid station almost single-handed for 24 hours, an endurance feat in itself. I ate his pretzels and drank his Gatorade and exchanged delirious banter with Zack 21 times. He was a welcome friend in the wilderness.

The entire staff of Hat Creek is in need of thanks. Jason Captain, the race director, took time out of his day to run several miles with me including my entire last loop. John and Jeff managed to be everywhere, cooking meals and running aid stations, and keeping everything running smoothly. For a small staff, all of these guys did a great job of keeping the event going.

As the race wore on into the daylight hours my motivation began to waiver. I reached a point where I knew I would hit my 100 mile goal, and a part of me just gave up. From this point on I was just coasting to the finish, and each step of each mile got harder than the one before. My drive and determination evaporated with the morning dew, and I found myself wanting to be done more than anything else. I stopped eating well, and switched to gels. When I finished 95 miles I had so much time left that I didn't care. I finished 100 miles at 21 hours and 41 minutes. The next 5 miles took me 1 hour and 30 minutes, my motivation was gone, and luckily my time was up. 105 miles in 23 hours 12 minutes.

I am very excited for this accomplishment, and very thankful for all of my wonderful friends and family and the trail running community around here that made this event possible. It would be very hard to run 100 miles in the woods alone, thankfully we have each other so we don't have to.

-Todd

Double Promise Land 2014

More Fun Than Anyone Should Be Allowed To Suffer Through

Why?

I had a hard time deciding what to do about Promise Land 50K++ this year. Should I run it? Should I crew Alexis and our friends? Should I run it twice like the legendary Kevin Smith? I struggled with this decision all spring. Alexis encouraged me to sign up and run it, I think she thought that I wanted to. Either that or she just wanted to watch me suffer. Misery does love company.

I finally decided after a nasty bonk on one of the last training runs Horton does on the PL course that running fast was not for me. When we showed up that day Horton gave me a roll of streamers and told me to stay up front and mark the course. So, like the genius that I am, I took off running too fast and managed to stay in front of everyone (except Sam) for the first 20 miles of the 25 mile run. Then I died.

Since running fast wasn't something I felt confident doing, and Alexis didn't think that I would make adequate crew material, I decided to do the only smart thing and run a double Promise Land. It was the best/worst decision I could have made.

That Night

I figured since I was going to attempt something slightly more difficult than a regular 50K, then I should be well prepared and well rested. So I took off of work on Friday so that we could get to the camp before lunch, set up a tent, and get a few hours of sleep in before the race briefing started at 5ish. But things didn't work out that way. There were thunder storms off and on all day, and Alexis decided that she wasn't sleeping in a tent alone anyway so what was the point in setting it up in the first place. So....

We ended up getting to the Promise Land camp around 5 pm, and I ended up getting no nap at all, but sleep is over-rated anyways. We got to see and hang out with lots of our friends, both local and out of town runners. Everyone I talked to either thought that I was kidding about running the double, or that I was just stupid. Horton seemed to think that I wouldn't do it, or that I wouldn't be able to finish.

After the meal and the race briefing and the give-aways and the bon fire, and most everyone drifting away to their tents and cars for a good nights sleep, there was an awkward 2 hours of waiting around to start my run. I had decided that I wanted to finish my first loop no more than 10-20 minutes before the actual race started. This was the hardest part of my adventure to calculate. How much time was enough, but not too much, to run the entire Promise Land course by myself in the dark? I decided to leave the camp at 10 p.m.

I am a very, very lucky man, and I have a tremendous group of friends who waited around and supported me and tried not to make things too awkward. Except for the singing, that was just uncalled-for. There were about 20 people who waited around with me until 10 O'clock the night before their big race just to see me off on my misguided  journey into the dark mountains. Thank you all so very much, you really do mean a lot to me.

And so I set off to climb the mountain alone. At 10 p.m. sharp Horton said go and I trotted out of the camp at a good steady jog. I ran all the way to the big wooden squirrel, and then I began to hike aggressively. One of the last things Horton told me before I started was "walk fast." That man never ceases to amaze me with how spot-on he can be when you think he's just making fun of you.  I never once doubted that I could do it, but there were a few times that night that I doubted I would get back in time. But "walking fast" truly is my secret to success. 

My journey through the night was truly majestic and serene. The trail passed by beneath me very smoothly for the most part. I ran well, and walked even better. With a few exceptions it was very uneventful. I had a couple of interesting animal encounters, one or two horror movie scenarios, and a couple of inspiring soundtrack moments.

Animals. At about 4 miles into the course I believe I was "stalked" by two bobcats. I told myself that they were most likely just very large racoons, but after talking to Mike Mitchell after the race I think that they were bobcats. They stayed about ten yards off the trail to my left and followed me a little. It was kind of creepy, but I was still in a good solid mental place so it really didn't bother me much. My second animal encounter was at the top of the world, on the gravel road below the radar complex at the top of Apple Orchard Mountain a rabbit darted straight at me and I had to side step to avoid tripping on the little guy. No big deal. Until I see two sets of yellow eyes reflecting back at me, also moving straight towards me. Were these predators chasing that rabbit? Why were they coming at me and not running away from my light? I stopped dead in my tracks, and they kept coming slowly towards me. Unsettling? Yes a little bit. Then, just as I could make out the shapes of their heads, these two menacing monstrous deer turned to the side and strolled off into the woods. Shortly after that I did a one-man reenactment of the opening scene from An American Werewolf In London. Good times.

Soundtrack moments. Starting down the really technical and steep trail to Cornelius Creek my iPod shuffle pulled out the most fitting song it could: Wave of Mutilation by the Pixies. I kept envisioning Jake Reed finding my mangled corpse the next morning as I plummeted down that rocky trail. Afraid to go too slow because I may not have allowed myself enough time, and afraid to go too fast because I didn't want to slow Jake down as he tried to set a new course record. The next time my shuffle decided to help out was at the bottom of Apple Orchard Mountain. As I started the grueling climb back up to Sunset Fields the Clash's Straight to Hell Boys came on. And that is exactly where I felt like I was headed.

Almost to the top of that climb something happened to my left calf muscle. A cramp, or a muscle strain or a minor pulled muscle. It slowed my power-hike down to a hobble. I stopped and stretched and ate a GU. But it hurt to climb the rest of the night. Luckily the climbing was almost over. After cresting the mountain I rain slow and steady back down the five miles to the camp. The aid stations workers passed me as I neared the bottom of the mountain. Then I spotted runners out running their warm-ups. I passed Andrew Charon and he turned around and ran into the camp with me.

I finished up the night shift in 7 hours and 15 minutes. It was 5:15 a.m. I had 15 minuted to re-supply before heading back out with over 300 other runners. The night had gone perfectly. I was a happy runner.

The Day Shift

I checked in with Horton and grabbed my gear and tried to grab a bite or five to eat, and checked in with Alexis. But that 15 minutes passed faster than any other quarter of an hour that I can ever remember. The next thing I know I'm lined up at the front of the start line, with the fast guys, and Horton is yelling "GO!" 

So I went. As I ran out of the camp this time I noticed that things were feeling significantly different than they had the night before. Although my desire to run was noticeably lessened, I ran harder and farther than I had the previous night before finally breaking into a hike. My calf was killing me. It hurt to run and it hurt to hike. Pushing off with my left leg was nightmarishly painful. I was tired. I was hungry but couldn't eat. I was grumpy. And everyone was passing me.

At the first aid station I told the guy I needed water. I had never stopped at this aid station in previous years, but I had just emptied a bottle and a half in less than 3 miles. This kid points at the water jug, implying that I would get my own water, and then folds his arms across his chest. I thrust both of my bottles into his hands and commenced to opening a gel. He actually filled my bottle about half way, stopped, and asked how much water I wanted. I was in a pretty low place at this point and I have to admit that I wasn't very nice to this kid, and of that I am sorry. But it was a long way to aid station two and I was already regretting signing up for this race.

The climb to the Grassy Road, and the Grassy Road itself are kind of a painful blur where I wrestled with my demons and lost. I know that I was barely shuffling down the runnable slopes, hiking the flats, and crawling up the slightest inclines on my hands and knees. Everyone who passed me seemed exceptionally happy, and I instantly hated them, for that kind of behavior is simply inappropriate around the newly dead. I don't know how long it took me to cover the 6 miles to aid station 2, but it felt like 10 hours. I was ready to drop from the race at this point. I have never even considered that before in any other race, but for about 15 minutes I was DONE. My buddy Sam Price passed me smiling and tried to offer me food, as I grinded to a slow death. I had food. I had water. I had no will to live, I had no brains.

When I finally arrived at the aid station J.J. was there like a guardian angel. He fed me, and listened to me complain, and let me lean against the gate and eat and eat and eat. I was there for about 10 minutes, but it felt like hours worth of rest. I left with Tommy Cook, and we started climbing up the WhOR loop. Tommy got me started running, something I don't know if I would have done without him, and I continued to run most of the way up and out of that loop. Thank you Tommy and J.J. At that, the lowest point of my run, you two saved my life.

The run to the next aid station seemed quite a bit easier, and passing through Sunset Fields and seeing friendly familiar faces just lifted my spirits that much more. I fell into a good rhythm of the technical downhill to Cornelius Creek, and got the chance to run with a lot of different runners. I picked up Karl Miller and he stuck with me for a mile or more and that was just awesome. He was in a good mood and it lifted me up that much more. I caught back up with Sam on this down hill, and then started to find friends that I hadn't seen before. I may have made Blake mad as I splashed past him at a creek crossing, but I was finally finding my feet.

I got to the Cornelius Creek aid station, where my night-time saviors had left me a drop bag, and I commenced to socializing and eating like crazy. Cheyenne, Opal, and Madi set me up with a full meal and I sat down and took my time eating. Those girls were wonderful. The best aid station out there without a doubt. When I finished my brunch I got up and hit the road again.

On the way to Colon Hollow I passed most of the same people again, as they moved in and out the aid station faster than I did. I continued to feel better and better, and I caught up with Jordan Whitlock right before the aid station. He was nursing a sore hamstring that he got by running like a wild man at Boston six days before. We ran together for a little stretch, but he disappeared because he was having trouble running down hills.

I made it back to Cornelius Creek aid station feeling better than I had a right to, having covered the "forever section" of Promise Land faster than I ever had before. I caught up with Gina Gilbert starting up the falls and she said she was suffering from cramps. I offered her food and electrolytes but she said she was good so I moved on. 

I climbed the 3.4 miles from Cornelius Creek to Sunset Fields in 52 minutes, a personal best, and passed a lot of great runners on the way up. When I caught up with Dru Sexton, who is 62 years old and was on pace for about a 7 hour finish, I was motivated to push even harder. Dru you truly are an inspiration.

At sunset fields I refilled both bottles and took off with the goal of going under 7 hours. I ran harder than I thought I could, looking over my shoulder for Grattan Garbee to catch up with me on the downhill. I finished in 6:55.

Total running time of 14 hours and 10 minutes, with 15 minutes in between the runnings. 

Official Double Promise Land Time: 14 hours 25 minutes.

As much as I hate to admit it to David Horton, it was the hardest thing I have ever run. And yes, I would do it again.

-Todd

2014 Promise Land Race Report (Alexis)

Promise Land 50K++

Bedford, Virginia

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Pre-Race Blah, Blah, Blah

A few days post Terrapin 50k I told the Wednesday group that I was bumping Promise Land to "A" race status, using Jamie Swyer's A race, B race, C race parameters. I don't recall if I told the group or not, but I was also going to train to the tune of attempting a sub 6 finish. I made a training plan, a four week plan of arbitrary numbers and a couple key workouts, and set about to training (what I believed to be) hard. I did the best that I could in the three week crunch you really get between Terrapin and Promise Land to train. The idea was to work hard so there would be no regrets in taper mode, but uncertainty and doubt still came looming. Sub 6 is "WHOA" time, could it be my time?

Add to the enjoyment of a good taper mental breakdown the fact that Todd, my spouse, was aiming to run the course back to back, starting at 10 pm the night before the race and I was good and frazzled by late Friday evening. I knew Todd would accomplish his goal, he's task driven and I really never had any doubt, but the thought of him alone in the dark (a feat I could never even entertain yet alone attempt) did disturb the idea of a good night's sleep in the van at the Promise Land camp.

The Race

Horton sounded the alarm at about 4:30 am. I dressed quickly and checked in. I went back to the van and made breakfast, one and a half sandwiches, peanut butter and strawberry preserves. Clifton came by to see if I was going to run a warm-up,an idea I always entertain but never accomplish, I asked him to give me 5 minutes. About 5 minutes later someone came by and opened up the van door and I realized it was Todd, back from his night run of the course in 7:15. He said it was harder than he figured it would be, but he also seemed jovial and ready to go for round two. He told me I needed something warmer and lended me his arm sleeves. Then he left and I didn't see him again before the start. I didn't make it out of the van in time for a warm-up, I walked over to the start and was trying to unravel my headphones when the race began. I am just never quite ready for the Promise Land 50k.

I started out way back in the pack away from friends so I went ahead and turned on music. It was dark and I had consciously decided not to wear a headlamp. I just settled in to getting that first climb out of the way, it is my least favorite part of the whole race, that first climb. I caught up with my running partner, Kevin Corell, and settled in to a pace that would be effective but would allow my legs to reserve enough to run the single track section that follows that is also uphill. Usually I am toast and have to walk a fair portion of that section. I tried to keep Jamie and Rachel Corrigan in my sights but once or twice I just couldn't match their stride, I remembered the torment that was the first climb last year and let it pass in stride, trying to be thankful that at least I wasn't injured. Dennis Coan caught us and ran with us. I could tell he had more for that climb in him but was perhaps nervous to pass Kevin and I.

At aid one my bottle was empty, I had to stop and fill it at a cooler and Jamie and Rachel ran on through. I had already broken a sweat on that first climb and emptied my bottle completely.  We made it to aid station one in about 36-7 minutes. However, I had saved enough for that next climbing section and ran it strong enough. I passed Jamie but this just became the tone for the day in which her and I leapfrogged each other at least a dozen times.

I was thankful to get to the grassy road, by opposite of that first climb, this is my favorite section of the course. It's rolling and runnable and Saturday offered the most astounding sunrise which made it all the more enjoyable. Kevin and I were implementing our plan of running it all but I was feeling the effort certainly sooner than I had planned or hoped. I had run this section strong in training, I had tapered, why did it feel like death? I was giving it a good effort and yet I didn't like that it was feeling like a real effort. We continued to leap frog Jamie and Dennis hung with us. We passed Gina looking strong but she said she thought she'd spent too much too early. We ended up walking one hill we didn't plan on and then the one near the end of this section that we had planned to hike.  In the out and back to aid station two Kevin gave us the time update, we were five minutes off of our 'splits' for a sub 6. I was feeling rough enough already and had a mountainous marathon still left to complete. The goal of sub 6 was looking rather unlikely. That realization wasn't a whole lot of fun to swallow.

On the first section of the White Oak Ridge, or whatever it is called, I ran along but I started to think about not hitting that sub 6, I really didn't think it was going to happen. We were running harder than I like to in the first half and we were still behind on our goals. I began to have a small pity party, I may be fast but I am not fast enough, I may be good but I am just not good enough. I started walking, I let Kevin and Dennis pull away, I wanted it to feel easier, I wanted to enjoy a moment and was beginning to really hate the day. I could hear Jamie and Bethany chatting behind me and I allowed myself to slow until they were beside me. I fell into their chatter and the effort was so much more maintainable. I looked down because there was a part of me that couldn't bear to watch Kevin pull away but I had to do it.

We crossed the parkway and for the moment the race had turned back up, we caught back up with Dennis on the downhill, we ran the downhill well but not too hard. I made it to Sunset Fields in about 2:31, only one minute faster than 2012, the year I first ran Promise Land and saw Kevin leaving just as I hit the sidewalk. With a brief stop to have my bottle filled I was off, I passed Anne Stanley and saw Siobhan Leonardis in front and just tried to keep her in my sights. I couldn't do it. I had to let her and Kevin further pull ahead. I just don't descend as well as I should. On the only uphill of this section I caught Kevin but only because he'd had a restroom break. We ran a little ways together and he seemed strong and in good spirits. I was OK but he managed to immediately pull ahead again. I chatted with Bill who made the amazing chocolate chip cookies and knew my friend Alissa Keith but I couldn't keep his pace either.

Coming into Cornelius Creek I was once again not enjoying much. Kevin was taking off before I even got to the tables and then Jamie and Bethany Patterson were off and running down the road with Horton hollering that the front ladies were only 10 minutes out. He didn't say anything about where we were place wise but I erroneously assumed top 10. As they ran off together I stood there at Cheyenne's well run aid station to get a nice cup of coke and have my bottle filled. Horton looked at me standing there but didn't say a word, I just shrugged my shoulders.

I left the aid station and knew I had to have a bathroom break after that descent but it's hard to get off and into any cover. I stopped once and realized as Brian Deibler passed by that wasn't enough cover. I stopped again another quarter mile down the road and was frustrated that it was taking more time than it should just to pee! I was finally off and running again on that slightly downhill road, the only real flat on the course, in past years I have really suffered on this section. This year in training I did tempo runs, I think I fared fairly well, it was about the only part of my training that I really felt paid off during the race, but I am also probably being a sulking baby.

Turning from the paved road onto the trail Siobhan called out from the woods as I passed. I was feeling kind of lousy and also kind of good. Mentally I was lousy, physically I was OK. I started hiking and ate another GU and thought about the day. I was in a funk because I wasn't going to hit sub 6. I decided that even if I wasn't hitting my goal I needed to enjoy the day, enjoy the opportunity to run and the break from the real world. Also, I remembered Horton's bulleted email, the race begins, he'd said, at Colon Hollow.

I caught up with Kevin, Jamie and Brian and told them I had had an epiphany, but being a manic runner my good mood may only be temporary. We got to Colon Hollow and I copied Brian and got a potato square rolled in salt and headed on. Jamie said good-bye but then passed by us a minute later looking very strong and I thought, she's turned the race on too! I turned music back on and ran as well as I could despite my tiring legs.

When we got to the gravel road we were still running strong but Jamie turned around and said "Three girls, right there, their yours, You've got this" or something to that extent. And literally just like that, with Jamie's confidence in me instead of any of my own, I ran up the road and passed by Bethany, Kathleen and another female. When I got to the little bump that takes you back to service road I saw another female so I just ran along until I caught her.  Then I ran into Joe. He wasn't having a fun time anymore, I told him I wasn't going to hit my goal either but I had decided I was still going to enjoy my day. He gave me a nice compliment and said he was inspired that I still had motivation when I knew I wouldn't make my goal. I told him to run with me and I started running again but a few minutes later when I turned the only person behind me was Kevin! I was happy to see him but we were both listening to music and we didn't talk much.

I passed another female, making 7 since I got on the dark side and I realized just how far back I must have been when I came into Cornelius Creek the first time. On the out and back to Cornelius Creek the second time we saw Mikala and Elizabeth Minnick. They both looked strong and had a good lead, I didn't think I would see either of them again. Kevin and I got to Cornelius Creek the second time in 4:30, 15 minutes off of our goal to hit sub 6, I figured we were looking at a 6:15 finish. With a full bottle and some Ritz Crackers I headed off up the falls. Peter Jetton passed by us, he must have been at the aid station perhaps when we were there and I tried to keep him in my sights but he was running much too well for me to keep up. I ran the flatter sections and was feeling OK when I noticed my vision was blurry.

At first I just thought maybe my eyes were watery and my contact effected. But I started to close my eyes for a second and open them back up and the blurriness only got more wavey like. In the past year I have had two Ocular Migraines that have begun much like this, where my vision gets affected and then a massive headache comes on where I have to go lie down in the dark for a while. It was scary because we were on fairly rocky ground. When this began on Saturday I went from race mode to complete worry mode. I started to wonder how bad the vision was going to get, if it was going to be dangerous to continue, if I was going to have a headache while running and how bad it was going to be. Kevin must have noticed I had slowed down because he asked if I was eating, I took out another GU but told him my vision was worrying me. He offered me Ibuprofen and I eagerly accepted. He immediately gave me his supply and I took two. I kept moving forward and hoped for the best. I figured the sun may have done it but I was a little overwhelmed that it had now happened during a run because the other two times have been at home.

Shortly after I took the dose of Ibuprofen I saw a pack ahead of us and tried not to let them get too far ahead. This shifting focus from my blurry vision back to the race was good as a few minutes later I noticed that the vision was getting better and then not long after it was cleared up and I had no resulting headache. I am so, so thankful to Kevin for saving my race if not my day that I ran away from him. Sorry, Kevin! I saw Beth Minnick just past the falls, and she told me her heel was bothering her. I don't hike incredibly well but for my usual ability I believe I hiked the last .9 of this section as well as I ever have. I was feeling strong, the number of miles left to cover decreasing readily. I saw Sam Lynch and he said I was close to the next few girls and that I was 5th he thought. Near the top I passed Peter with my sights on another female.

Coming into Sunset Fields I made the conscious decision not to look at my watch at all. I didn't think I would break 6 hours and I didn't want the time to drag me down. My water bottle was filled and I grabbed an orange slice before quickly leaving. Charlie Hesse asked if I had enough hydration, only having the one 20 oz. bottle I shrugged my shoulders and said I hoped so and would find out. I left the aid station taking 4th feeling like the woman I passed was right on my heels. I ran the next section hard, I stopped once to go to the bathroom and it felt like it took forever. But then I was off and running hard on the downhill single track section. I ran it thinking about what Frank and Todd had told me two weeks before, run like 6th female is chasing you. And boy, did I feel like they were. But I was feeling somewhat good considering. However, I was thirsty so I drank all 20 oz. before I ever hit Overstreet Falls. I was really, really hoping Horton would have at least left some water up there in gallons but no such luck. I could have stopped at the falls but I thought I would be OK.

I hit the road and thought "All you have to do is run this hard and you're done!" I was excited, I was almost done! The volunteers said 2.6 to the finish. Sure, in a 5k that sounds like a lot left but at Promise Land, you know you're in the home stretch. I turned it on! I wanted to finish strong! I burned up the first half mile or so, I wasn't wearing a watch but it was probably a beautiful sixish minute mile pace. Then I started to cramp up in both of my calves. I wanted to be like Frank and run through those cramps, be tough. So I kept pushing but landing on my heels to try and stretch the muscle. I opened a GU and took a bite but was worried because I had not a drop left in my bottle. Then the cramps turned to spasms and started to travel to my quads and I really did think "You're body is going to collapse beneath you!" So I stopped dead, stretched the calves until they stopped spasming and then started walking. My bottle was empty and I wanted that strong finish SO badly that I started to run again, but it was probably a much slower pace. A few minutes later more cramps, I had to stop again. I saw puddles on the ground and thought about drinking from them, but I honestly thought I couldn't kneel down that far and ever get back up. When I finally made it to the one mile sign I think I was probably running several minutes a mile slower than at the top. I wanted to pout and be a whiney baby about it but I was using all of my effort to keep moving forward. I was already mourning the what could have been and I hadn't even made it to the camp. By the time I finally made it to the squirrel I felt like I was crawling and I had one more bout of cramps. I thought I had drank well for the day emptying my bottle between every aid station, but all I had was water and one cup of coke at Cornelius Creek, I had fueled using mostly GU, but it just hadn't been enough. I was trying to race beyond my ability I suppose.

I crossed the finish in 6:05:59, that's a 24 min PR and I was 4th female (after apparently being 12th the first time through Cornelius Creek) but that finish took a lot out of me. That last descent was far more brutal than usual, and it's usually pretty brutal.

Post Race

I am still sore today (Monday) and my left calf is pretty tight. Moving downstairs is particularly entertaining. I wish I was a little more upbeat about my race, I am trying to focus on the positives, besides a PR I ran the section from Cornelius Creek back to Cornelius Creek 20 minutes faster than I have ever run it. I am happy with my PR, biggest PR I've had in a year or so actually, and Promise Land always seems to kick my tail. I at least really got to bask in the beauty that is the course this year. I actually forced myself to focus on it a couple of times! And as always I absolutely love the pre and post race festivities that take place at the camp, just hanging out with old friends and new. Dinner together afterwards. The swapping tales with Todd all evening long and then again through Sunday. I think Promise Land may actually be growing on me, I will probably find myself there again next year, still chasing that clock and the sub 6 finish!

Alexis

Terrapin Mountain 50k Race Report : Closer to Fine

Terrapin Mountain 50k
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Big Island, Virginia

If you would have asked me at any other time, I would have told you that the ground beneath my feet was that of my most favorite trail, the winding horseshoes that turn into and then away from the Terrapin Mountain, the shallow creek crossings and the views of Bedford County. But at that moment, it had become just too easy to fall into feeling sorry for myself. Walking steps I should have been running, already mourning the could have been, should have been of the miles beforehand. Assuming I was just biding my time until my legs locked up for good and had me walking to the finish. It seems to get like this, the insurmountable negativity driving me away from my goals and aspirations. I was alone out there, until the Indigo Girls found me.

I run with two iPods, this gets laughed at on occasion, but isn't all that funny when you know that one of them is permanently locked on a low volume and won't let me skip or replay tracks. It's the backup. The other doesn't hold a charge much anymore. It's the go to. I hadn't turned them on at all that day until the climb to the summit on Terrapin Mountain. When I turned the 'go to' one on it said in it's cold robotic voice "Battery Low" before it ever played a tune, the going had gone, from my perceptibility, from bad to worse. Two songs later, it died completely.

The second iPod did it's job of playing songs I don't even know why are on my iPod at intolerably low levels, I could still hear my breathing, the voice inside my head far louder than my Shuffle. So there I am, walking along on my favorite trail, decidedly done with the day, when the Indigo Girls comes on, "Closer to Fine". That classic acoustic guitar intro almost immediately doing the job alone but being further urged along by one of the best awakening lyrics ever to reach my ears:

 "And the best thing you've ever done for me, is to help me take my life less seriously, it's only life after all."

The evening before I had been present when Clark had his accident at the camp. I don't do well with accidents or the sight of blood. I don't do well when people I care about are hurt, or with statements like "I think I've fractured my skull". I don't do all that well under pressure. It was decided that I would take Clark to the emergency room, the prayer "Please don't let Clark die in my van" honestly going through my head. Honestly and fortunately, all was for the most part alright. However, on the ride back to the Sedalia Center that evening I decided that everything being so temporary I was going to just enjoy my run on Terrapin the next day before immediately realizing that it is precisely this temporary status of everything that made it all the more pressing to, in the words of Mike Mitchell, use it before you lose it. Do exactly what it is that scares you, I told myself, push yourself. 

"I went to the doctor, I went to the mountain, I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain. There's more than one answer to these questions, pointing me in a crooked line."

On Saturday morning I soaked in what I enjoy most, the anxious air surrounding a group of people about to embark on a journey of self discovery. I wish I could bottle that energy, save it for a rainy day. But perhaps the real beauty in it comes from the fact you can't bottle it.

Surrounded by friends we set off for the day's trek, starting out on a flat paved road. I was content that I seemed, for once, to dress seemingly appropriate for the day's weather, being just slightly cool from the start. I knew the weather was to reach the low to mid-70s later in the day, temperatures far above that we had seen in the majority of the previous weeks, so I sat out at once to stay ahead of hydration needs. I thought I was doing OK by mostly emptying my bottle between aid stations, in retrospect, maybe I was only thinking I was doing a good job because I usually drink nothing.

I jogged down the road as Kevin Corell pulled away, he had told me to stay with him but I am who I am. I let him pull away. I ran with Jamie Swyers to the End State Maintenance sign where I took to walking and she pulled away. I did what I could on the technical road meets trail section that is mostly uphill and makes up the first few miles of the race but I can't climb like that from the start the way others seem to be able to. I was doing what I felt like was my best, pushing my calves to tighten hoping that I was pushing enough to do a good job but not too much to weaken their strength later in the day. I ate two Strawberry Fig Newtons and tried to empty my bottle before the top. I made it to Camping Gap the first time in about 51:40, just under 5 minutes faster than the year before, I thought I was going GREAT! Todd swapped bottles with me at Camping Gap and told me I was 8 or 9th female, Frank cheered me on and I took off down Hunting Creek Road.

I was saving my legs, that's what I told myself, but a dozen or so people passed me as I tried to linger between a good effort and saving those legs. Mike Mitchell passed me saying he was using it while he had it in him, Alisa Springman and a few other men flew past, I wondered if I was taking it too easy on my quads.  JJ Justice stayed with me though, he said rumor had it I would catch those people passing by us later. I ate my last two Strawberry Fig Newtons I packed for the day and a few raisins. I got uplifting cheers from Charlie, Dennis and their camping buddies on the long pull downhill. Near the bottom I caught sight of Jamie and Kevin. In a text a few days before Jamie said I would pass her at 15 miles, I thought I would be happy just catching her to run with her awhile.

At Goff Mountain Aid Station a volunteer filled my bottle and I grabbed a few potato chips. I could see Kevin just ahead and he must have seen me too when he was at the aid station because he looked back once or twice. I was talking to Alisa when I finally said "I'm coming, Kevin" and took to running to catch up with him, passing Mike in the process. Mike said "Go get your pacer." I know he didn't mean anything by it, but I don't think of it that way with Kevin and I, we train a great deal together, we are very similar paces, we ran off and on very near each other all day, but I think it tends to be a more equal push and pull system.

Kevin and I ran a lot of Goff Mountain road. JJ was still with us and I knew Kevin could tell I was trying to reel Jamie in without ever saying it. Just before the trail section Blake's parents cheered for me and Jamie turned and said "You're a mile late, Alexis!" smiling. I asked where were we, I had 15 miles, she said no I gave you ten. I said I can show you the text later, but it was all in good fun, I was really happy to be with her, Kevin and JJ. We were running along chatting merrily and talking about the Blue Ridge Trail Runners strong presence on the course that day. We passed Frank G. and Brenton (Jamie's husband) on the trail headed in the opposite direction, they told us there were six girls ahead of us and told us to push it! I thought we covered the trail between Goff Mountain and Hunting Creek Road well. I filled my water bottle again at the aid station on Hunting Creek Road but didn't grab any food. I always think I'm running and fueling much smarter than I actually am.

The climb back to Camping Gap is TOUGH. It's a little under 3 mile climb on gravel roads back to Camping Gap, the same road you experienced leaving Camping Gap takes you back, except the quad burning downhill is much more grueling in reverse. It eats my lunch and makes me feel inadequate on many levels. I was very thankful to have Kevin and Jamie there though JJ had disappeared. It was nice to meet a friend or two along the way. I ate a mini Milky Way and a few more raisins. We walked and ran at intervals and Kevin was a great help along the way despite the fact he was feeling pretty sick. Jamie stopped to go to the bathroom and though I caught sight of her behind us, she didn't catch back up. That was the last we saw of her during the run. Near the top Kevin said we were going to hit Camping Gap at about 2:50, I was stoked at the news, feeling slow and having done it the year before in 2:59. Then I saw my great buddy Clifton up ahead, I pushed on as I thought I would get to run with Clifton.

We made it to Camping Gap in 2:49. I was in a great mood having made that climb faster than aimed for and with it being so tough. Todd swapped bottles again once more and we were off to catch up with Clifton when I hear "Want some company?" from Dennis and Charlie. They headed off with us towards the White Oak Ridge loop as they were headed to Apple Orchard Mountain. Todd called after me, "Be back in an hour!" I was in a very good place right at that one moment, if there was to be a highlight of the run, this was it. I was feeling pretty good, I was in a really good mood. However, I was outwardly optimistic but inside I knew what lie ahead, steep ascents and descents for which I fear I am no match. I worried that it would all coming falling down. Not at that moment it didn't, but soon.

Kevin, Clifton, Dennis, Charlie, Brian Deibler and I were all running along and I felt like I was running more of the section than I did at this point last year. It wasn't long though before Charlie, Dennis and Clifton fell back. It was just Kevin and I again, I told him my stomach was bothering me a little and my legs felt close to cramping. I took my first two salt tabs of the day and drank more water. I ate a couple M&M's but I probably didn't eat as well as I thought I did through here. We saw Beth Minnick just as we started up the horse trail but my legs and stomach were getting the better of me quick. We caught up with Beth and talked a moment before climbing on to the summit. We were headed down the other side, managing through mud and light snow when my stomach told me to pull off. I told Kevin I was going to stop and he pulled on ahead. I tried to go fast but I had to climb higher to remain unseen and I saw seven people pass me, it was quite stressful. Climbing back out of the woods my calves cramped up on me. I drank more water but I was no longer having an awfully good time.

I tried to catch back up with Beth who had passed me while I was in the woods but the calves cramped again. At this point I started to cross paths with runners headed into the WOR loop which is a good point of the race, it was my favorite last year and it was nearly my favorite this year if it hadn't been for the cramping. I got to say hello to friends. I was just seizing up with cramps and took to walking through a particularly bad jaunt when I passed Blake, he seemed incredibly genuine when he urged me on, telling me that all the girls ahead of me were just up ahead of me. I told him I appreciated it but that I had started cramping. I took two more salt tabs and tried to pull it together. I caught up with Beth and we talked about the trails and training and I was pleasantly surprised when we were back at Camping Gap at 3:48.

Todd swapped bottles with me and got me a coke when I told him I was cramping. He gave me two quarters of PB&J and a banana quarter to eat. The plan had been that Todd would crew for me at Camping Gap and then head straight back from there to the finish taking in the summit but not running to Terrapin lane so that he could be there when I finished. He pulled ahead on the climb and I was fading fast. He told me to eat and put my iPod on. I climbed slowly and became a pouty baby as my calves continued to cramp despite how slowly I was moving. At the summit I didn't even take in the view, just out to punch my bib and keep on moving. Moving downhill I had to focus on striking with my heel because if I landed on my toes my leg, especially my right, would cramp. At one point I looked down during a cramp and the calf was so deformed, dented in and tight, that I vowed not to look again during a cramp again. I finally took a GU desperate for the cramping to end.

The downhill from the summit and the area between Fat Man's Misery was no fun at all. Kevin and Todd had told me at the summit "those girls are right ahead of you" but I didn't ever see any girls and every two or three minutes my calves were cramping up and I was just starting to feel sorry for myself. I was worried how I was going to make it another seven miles not how I was going to chase down a few more females. On the steep downhill that takes you to Terrapin lane aid station I did my best but could barely stay in sight of Kevin. Todd turned off and told me to eat a GU at the aid station. On the way down to the aid station I cramped in my calves and now also in my hamstrings, a first for me, I honestly figured I was moving on borrowed time, soon my legs would fail me completely and I would be walking it in to the finish. I told myself, angrily, this is why we don't push, because we can't push, we aren't made for this. Slow and steady is the best that we can do. I ate the GU at the aid station and sulkily headed back up to my 'favorite trail'. I was sad as I knew the last five miles would be less than stellar.

I could see Beth Minnick as she turned onto the Terrapin Ridge trail but I had nothing at the moment left to give. I walked up the hill and walked some more as we turned onto the trail. Brain went around me and pulled ahead. I turned my second, broken iPod on. I was walking more than I liked, moving slower than I would have liked and just in a bad place. With nothing to distract me but the counting of creek crossings.  Kevin was right behind me but we had stopped all communication. I was in my lonely place, with no interest in going it alone, when the Indigo Girls found me.

It's ridiculously simple sometimes, how much my mind really dictates how I run. I was waiting to fail, waiting for my legs to give out, a pile of misery and defeat.

 "Well darkness has a hunger that's insatiable, and lightness has a call that's hard to hear. I wrap my fear around me like a blanket. I sailed my ship of safely til I sank it, I'm crawling on your shore."

I was nearer Reed Creek when this song came on, it's a little depressing and a little inspiring that a song could pull me out of what I could not pull myself out of. I immediately picked up my pace, I figured if I only had a little left in my legs to give then it would be best to use it to my advantage. I ran more and more and walked only when the climbs were just a little too steep to warrant running. When I reached the creek I looked down at my watch, 5:16. Could I pull a 5:30? A girl crouched by a rock told me two girls were just ahead of me. I was in a little better place, I was in the home stretch. Wasting no energy to dwell on time lost pouting I got moving. I passed Brenton and Horton, Horton said "You've moved up girlie", Brenton said "Those girls are just ahead of you". I was doing what I could.

At the turn from gravel to paved road I caught Brain and in that straight away between bridges I saw a male and female ahead. Brain told me to chase them down, I had little hope that I could catch them but I figured they were a good and final push. And I am glad that they were there and gave me that push because without them I may not have reached my sub 5:30 goal. As it was I made it with seconds to spare. Kevin was just a minute or so behind me.

In the end I didn't meet my seed, I was 5th female. I let the cramping get the better of me and I probably didn't eat or drink as well as I THOUGHT I was during. For example, Todd said my bottle was never empty when I passed it off to him like I thought it was and I didn't eat a bite after that GU at the last aid station. Todd told me I could have been better if I had. He's probably right. But instead of being sorry I am fairly happy. I set a 10 minute PR on a less than stellar day, I had my shortcomings illustrated in a bright but informative way. I looked at the failures as the source for making a list of needed improvements instead of just as failures alone.

Besides, in the end, what I loved the most, was overcoming the hardships, running with my supportive friends and spending time with an amazing group of people on a beautiful day. It would only be in error to judge Saturday as anything but bringing me 'closer to fine'.

-Alexis