BUS Pajama Romp, Astoria Park, Queens, NY. 7/28/12

Last night I participated in the Pajama Romp.  This was a 1.27 mile loop in Astoria Park in Queens.  There were about 70-75 participants running this 6 hour event.   I drove up with Alanna and John. Two other TNT participants (Ann and Carissa) came to cheer us on.

Friday night, I checked the weather and saw T-Storms predicted to hit pretty much between 5 pm and midnight with the most chance of making appearance around 7 pm.

I really wasn't sure what to do, but I knew I could not sit around all day waiting to run, only to have the run canceled or called off due to weather.  Training is more important than racing right now.  I knew that after last weekend's mountain 6 hour race, my legs were less likely to carry me 40 miles or more.  Since I did not feel like I was set up well for a great race, I decided that this race would best serve me as the second half of a double training run day.

Sat morning, I met the Team In Training Team I train with at 7 am and ran a comfortable 13.6 miles with a few of our runners training for various marathons.  Pace was easy and comfortable but I could feel by mile 12, that I was getting dehydrated.  I drank and ate more than usual at this training run, but the warmth and humidity left me soaked with sweat.

I drank an Ensure and a Chocolate Milk immediately giving me about 400 calories, carbs, protein, fat, vitamins, etc as soon as I stopped.  I can't really digest more than this in a hour, so I drove the half hour home and then had a big bowl of cereal, orange juice, and a banana for more carbs, protein, and potassium.   At 1 pm, I made a big bowl of salty mashed potatoes for more carbs and electrolytes.  I wanted to refuel my muscles as much as I could. I wanted to take a nap too, but I just didn't have time.

On the drive up, I drank a mango smoothie and was ready with macaroon, cantaloupe, and electrolyte-enhanced water.  I felt like I still had a chance to run well and was open to the idea that I might surprise myself if I just tried to run like I did in my last 6 hour race.

I checked the weather once more, and still the entire night was marred by the prediction of T-Storms.  As we sat in the car at 4:45 pm to avoid the hard rain, before our 5 pm start, I called Sid to have him check NOAA. He advised that we should be getting hit hard soon, if not already at that moment, but that the rain will blow over us.  However, more storms could hit us in about an hour or so that seemed like they could have T-storms.  It was hard to predict from the charts.

With this information, and the fact that I wanted to run at least 15 miles tonight, I decided that I was going to start out hard (at 8 minute pace), get a good 10 miles in, and then back off to see what I could do after a morning run. I knew this was not the best way to start a 6 hour run after having depleted myself of energy and fluids this morning. However, it was likely to represent a little of what I will feel like at 5 pm at my next 24 hour race.  I don't plan to run 8's at a 24 hour, but I do expect to feel like crap so this will be good practice.

The race started just as some heavy downpours became worse.  The gun went off and the pack started moving.  I started fast and was the 4th runner out, behind the top three eventual male winners.  I knew it would be minutes before I was passed by the women. I expected nothing less.

I ran the first loop at just sub-8.  This was not too fast in theory.  My last 50k started out at 7:50 pace and ended at 8:09 pace. My last 6 hour started at 7:50 pace and ended at 8:44 pace. My last marathon was 7:36 pace. When feeling good, 7:50 is a nice pace to start one of these runs.  However, I would have been happy a little slower considering I was a little dehydrated and depleted at the start.

I stayed with the men for one main reason, to figure out the course.  The rain was washing away all the white painted arrows and I was not sure how complicated the course would be.  After 1 loop, we only passed about two places where I could make a mistake, I backed down to 8-8:10 pace per lap.

I held that for about 5 laps, then started walking the up hills. First, just the first up hill and then I added that second up hill.  Once I started walking the ups, they seemed much steeper.  I noticed that my legs went from feeling incredibly peppy to suddenly depleted and dead.  I had been trying to fuel and hydrate from the start of the run, but I don't think I was able to keep up with my pace.  I am 100% certain a slower pace would have yielded more mileage and less discomfort, but I just didn't want to risk stopping after 2 hour because of weather, so I keep up my speed until I couldn't run any more... I slowed a lot after 10 miles. I stopped to change my shoes and then continued to run. I hit 20 miles in just a little over 3 hours and decided that if I needed to stop then I could be happy with a 34 mile training day.

I added more walking just to keep moving and started to notice just how much my feet hurt.  This makes me sad.  I am tired of foot pain.  I am avoiding pain killers and just kept going.  Walking hurt, but  running showed me just how depleted my quads were of energy.  I tried to spit (to track my hydration) and it was way too thick to be productive.  I realized that even with my efforts to drink a little almost every lap, I was very dehydrated. I grabbed gatorade, coke, water with electrolytes, plain water and it wasn't enough. Pretty much everything was wrong and my morale suffered.

After walking a bit, at mile 22 I met up with Alanna and John, and declared with a forced smile "I am done! Now it is just about getting to 30 miles for the day."  The deficit of everything, I manage to get myself into, made me incredibly nauseated. If I tried to force calories or liquids I sensed I would throw up.  Acid type liquids (coke, juice, gatorade) were not appealing so I could not drink them.  High sugar drinks, like my mango juice made me queasy.  I grabbed a chocolate milk and ended up carrying it for a lap, not able to drink it.  I ate a few pretzels and that seemed to help.  Salty, dry, non-sweet, gluten free pretzels (thank you Ann) were the only thing I was able to tolerated.  I ate a few and kept walking.

At about 26 miles in, I realized I had stopped having fun for the last hour and I was approaching 40 miles for the day.  I walked with Alanna, who looked great, was moving well, and really supported me as we moved along.  I rationalized to her. I was in pain. I was not accomplishing anything impressive. I was disappointed. I could be doing damage to feet by pushing on.  I want to train tomorrow and it is not worth missing tomorrow's run for a low mileage 6 hour tonight.  27 miles is really just as good as 30 miles. An injury free-27 is better than hurting myself for 3 more...etc.  I had tons of "good" reasons to stop.  The reality is I wanted to stop, I wasn't having fun, and things hurt.  I decided I was done.

I completed the lap the was 27+ miles and walked to my car.  I called Sid and told him that I suck.  That I was done and my feet hurt too much to make it fun to move.  He tried to encourage me, but then settled on telling me he was proud of me no matter what I did.  I gave Ray a call and waited to hear him press me to get back out there.  I had just under an hour left. That is not a lot of time.  I was surprised to hear him tell me that I did good and that a good 20 mile run after almost 14 this morning was good Hinson Lakes Training.  It made me feel less like a quitter to get the support of Sid and Ray.

I walked back to the race, ate a few more pretzels and saw John run through, looking pretty beat up but moving and smiling (or wincing).  He forced out the words, with so much pride, ... "I am past the marathon distance! I am past the marathon!" This is awesome considering this is his first ultra.  We had a  few minutes to go before they let us do the short loop.  John said he wanted, needed to sit.  He sat, I handed him some pretzels, and told him that if he is going to just sit, we should just walk until it is over. We could walk 1 big loop and then do the small loop until we can stop.  A few seconds later we were moving again.

As we started our walk, John realized that after this big loop, he was going to be close to 30 miles. I was at about 28+ at that point.  He found some strength and we added some jogging.  We got the short loop and he realized he was going to make 30 miles if he just could run.  He started running...then running faster... then faster... and exclaimed "I don't know where this is coming from!!!"  He had 0.4 miles to go and 6 minutes to do it.  He was getting his 30!  My feet hurt less running.  I felt a little better after sitting and eating pretzels.  Running with John, running to help someone else,  renewed my motivation to be out there again.  I would not have gone out just for me.

When he hit 30, I saw that I was a little over 29 miles myself.  I wasn't sure how much time I had left, but just figured I would run as fast as I could to get as close as I could to my 30 mile goal.  I was running a low 7 minute pace for the last .7 miles and stopped at about 29.75 miles on my Garmin   That is close enough to 30 to bring me joy.  Thank you John :)

I am not sure what my official distance really is.  We all know Garmins can be off.  I did not count my laps, big or small, and I have no idea what the cone I stopped at measured.  However, 29.75 + 13.6 is 43.35 miles for the day.

That is a good day and I am happy.

Downtown Westfield 5k, Westfield, NJ. 7/25/12

So 4 days after Running with the Devil, 6hr, I find myself at the start of a 5k. I can't believe how nervous I feel.

My recovery has been slow and although I have no injury type pains, DOMS from running up and down a black diamond mountain for 6 hours has been rough.  Only yesterday I was able to take stairs like a grown-up, facing forward, with both feet taking turns, rather than side-stepping while holding the railing like a really large toddler.

I haven't run this race in a few years, and forgot what the course was like.  I did recall a mildly rolling course and was scared that trying to run hills on jello legs was going to push me over the edge of something bad.

I met John P. at just after I got my bib. He, Sid, and I tried to get a warm-up in.  It was just shy of a mile and a little short for me. I am finding I do well on at least 2 miles. Oh well.   We ran into more TNT runners and friends, including Bill, Margo, John R. and some new faces.   I spent a few minutes chatting, but got right to focusing on what I needed to do.

5k's scare me.  I have to run so fast, my lungs feel like they are pushing out my chest, my heart pounds hard, my asthma makes me wheeze, and I feel odd sensations in my body as I try to push myself as fast as I can.  I don't think I will ever run much faster than I do now unless I can get into great shape by winter.  I run better in the cold.  My asthma seems worse in the summer and I whoop uncontrollably while running anything under 7 minutes per mile when my chest tightens.

Even though this race has a starting mat, I decided I still wanted to be up front.  Over 2300 5k runners is a big race and I didn't want to get trapped.  John and I were about 2 rows back from the start when the gun fired.

I wore my Garmin again for data.  I was surprised at how fast so many runners got down to sub-6 pace.  I immediately mentioned to John... "5:53, let 'em go"...  I watched my pace settle down to 6:05, 6:11, then 6:45 instantaneous pace.   We hit mile 1 with John a few meters ahead.  I watched him do a double take as he saw the clock read Sub-6:30 for him. That was so cool to witness!  My M1 = 6:31.

The course had already gone down then up some. We still had some uphills to run and I felt my quads rebelling.  My asthma was winning and I just sat back, watching John move steadily ahead of me.  I wondered if he would beat me today.  I know he will someday.  It could be today and when it happens I am going to be so happy for him.

I looked at my pace and was not too surprised to see the pace for the M2 = 7:00.  I didn't feel spent, I just felt sore.  I wanted to regroup and get ready for Mile 3.

Once I started Mile 3, I was ready to see what I could do.  I opened my stride and realized nothing really hurt.  I passed several people, some passed me back.  Some I passed back again.  I felt I was steadily speeding up as I approached the finish.  I looked at my Garmin and saw I had .35 to go.

At this moment, I felt her behind me.  I had more left to give so I pushed the pace.  She was breathing down my neck.  Trying to pass.  I pressed forward, never letting her get even with me.  We continued to speed up. I was sure if I pressed harder, she would fall back, but she stayed right in my peripheral.  I wasn't sure I could hold it, but knew I couldn't let up until she passed me.  I was not going to just give it her if I had something left in my legs.  I pressed harder and finally I felt her slip off pace.  I could no longer see her from the corner of my eye.  M3 = 6:32

Ah ha! I have this.. or do I.  Is this a set up?  Is she backing off so I will too and then she will fly past me at the finish, before I have to respond?  Only .1 to go. No way.  Not today.  She let up and I knew I had to take the advantage she gave me and widen the gap, just to shake her of any ideas she may have of taking me at the line...  I kicked in as hard as I could.  She did not come with me.  My last .14 read as a 5:22 pace.  According to the results, I finished 5 seconds ahead of her. We shook hands, thanked each over for the motivation.

That type of finish is what racing is all about.  What a thrill!

Stats:
20:53 chip time.
147 / 2358 Overall
14 / 1186 Females
1st Age Group.

Complete Results: http://www.compuscore.com/cs2012/july/westnite.htm

Running with the Devil 6 hour, Mt Creek Ski Resort, Vernon, NJ. 7/21

New Jersey Trail Series puts on my favorite New Jersey race:  Running with the Devil.

There are many unique things about this race that makes it so much fun (as long as you are resigned to the fact that you will be doing a lot of hiking in order to make it up the hills).

This race takes place on a ski slope at Mt. Creek in Vernon NJ.  We actually start inside the building and run out the doors and up the mountain.  NJ Trail Series, first teases us with a short steep uphill that leads to a runnable trail that leads us to the Devil of a hill.

At about .7 miles into the race, we hit the kind of UP that makes time moving forward feeling like it is going backwards.  It creates a burn in my quads and calves that I only get to feel one time per year.   This section of the course travels up the steepest hill I have ever climbed in a race.  According to my Garmin data, I see that we travel from the base of the hill that begin at 845.7 ft and reach the top of the complete climb at 1154.3 ft before we get relief as we travel a runnable .3 mile ATV trail through the cool woods.   That works out us running up 308.6 feet while covering only 354 meters (1,161.42 ft) of ground.  It is intense.  Painful. Absolutely crazy.  According to rise/run, that works out to about a .30 slope... now I don't know what that really means... but it is steep!

I have been wearing night splints to help me loosen up tight calves and achilles so help reduce some plantar fascia pain.  I was shocked by just how much this hill hurt my calves on the first trip.  I only got about half way up before I needed to stop moving due to the burn.  I was sure that the next lap would be accompanied by fatigue that would make the pain worse.  I was hoping to get to 12 miles before I was unable to continue on.

As I slowly moved forward, my friend Diane caught me and we continued on together.  She is recovering from knee surgery and this was going to be her longest hardest effort since being able to run again some time ago.  We moved along together enjoying anything runnable, laughing at how chicken we both are on downhills, and cursing together under our breathes while propelling ourselves up the Ups.

At about 1.65 miles, we reached the summit.  I stopped to tighten my laces, as my feet were slipping out of my loosely tied Grits.  Once snugged up, my calves felt a lot better.

The total lap was a 5k.  Much of the return trip was incredibly runnable, if you do not mind the possibility of falling forward down a hill.  I seem to have too much fear to be good at this race, so I basically try to get momentum and keep moving, while also holding myself back from a face plant or a butt slide.  I think heel strikers may have an advantage over my "up on my toes" foot plant when running down steep steep hills.  I end up running like I am skipping with one leg being braver than the other.

The last section of the trail is a steep decline into a small loop under a walkway and back up into the lodge.  We run through the building, back out on to the porch, down the stairs, and out onto the loop.

I placed my cooler right next to the door to the porch which saved me tons of time refueling.  Actually I wasted very little time between loops.  I stopped to pee just once after loop 2.  After loop 4 I had to get a rock from my shoe and I filled an ice bandana that I wore for the last two laps.  Otherwise, I was just filling and grabbing a 10 oz handheld each lap.  I did eat a 3 cookies and took a few swigs of juice every 2 laps, but otherwise I ran this whole race on a water and a little sodium.  I felt great and actually ran my last lap faster the the ones before. I didn't plan to go low on fuel, it just felt right.  I ate a banana and 15 oz of juice before the start.

Diane and I stayed together for 3 full laps, where Diane veered off for the short loop.  She was in the 3 hour race and did not have enough time for 4 big ones.  I was so happy to see that she crushed her two lap goal.  The nice cooler weather helped us move faster than we thought we could.

I went out for lap 4 which was a bit lonely without a partner to commiserate with.  I managed to keep moving and find motivation in the fact that once I finished loop 4, I was over half way done with the crazy race.  A few more laps and the pain would stop.

In races like this, unless you have a crew with you to provide you with some intelligence, it is very hard to figure out what place you are in and where you competition is in relation to you.  A good crew will be able to tell you how fast your competition is moving and where they are on the course.   When alone in a race that starts with two races together, you can't recognize who you are racing against.  It is hard to know whether your competition has dropped out, took rest breaks, or ran to the bathroom while you ran by.

When I completed 5 laps I began to think about strategy.  In the last hour we can run the short loop.  The short loop is .5 miles, but I know nothing about it.  I know what the big loop looks like and it is isn't pretty.  I know Rick is unlikely to make a small loop easy, but he can't make it as hard as 306 feet up over 354 meters?  If I can run 7 short laps in 56 minutes, I would get more mileage than if I did 1 big one in the last 50 minutes.  If my nearest competition was on the same lap as me but less than .4 miles ahead of me, I could possible end up with more mileage by doing the short loop instead of the big.

However, my quads felt shredded and my body ached.  I wasn't sure I could do the short loop in 7 times in 8 minutes each since partial loops don't count.  I had no clue, except that part of the small loop down hill merged with part of the big loop's down hill and that steep down was a slow part of the run for me.  To help me strategize, I asked Rick if he had a choice 1 big or 7 little what would he do (since he marked the course).  He commented that I couldn't do 7 littles. This made me want to try to, but I knew since he knew the loop, he was probably right.

I made a decision to go for mileage since I had no idea if I was even competitive with anyone.  My guess was that I was probably in 3rd place or worse.  So just as I reached the fork requiring a choice between big or small, I headed out to the big. If it took me too long and my last lap didn't count, I would still get 21.7 miles run and that had more value to me than 20 miles and quitting.

Off I went to say goodbye to the big loop until next year, but that steep hill would not let me say goodbye.  I held me there on it side, stuck in time, frozen.  I tried switch-backing over the steep double wide track. It worked to take the pressure off my aching muscles but it too way too long to go up.  But when I tried to go straight up, my legs burned so bad that I would have to stop.  I could feel the time ticking away and feared my delay would cost me the lap.  I dug deep, started grunting my way up and made it to the top. I knew there was two more up hills to face before I hit the down.  Running was hard.  The burning was distracting but I was proud to still be running.  I was winning this fight against myself! I felt strong and weak at the same time.  Up that last hill I went knowing that if I hit the top with over 15 minutes to go, I was sure I had it.

I got to the top of the ski lift, refilled my bottle for the first time at the summit and saw that I have over 20 minutes to get down.  I kept moving, trying to decide if I would have enough time for a small loop too.  My body was burning and it would be close.  If I had 10 minutes left, I would try for 1 loop.  Less than that and I would call it a day.  I don't know what I could do a short loop in, but at this point I was breaking down and mentally was satisfied with my effort.

I crossed the mat with 8 minutes to go and decided I was done.  It felt good to stop.

Turns out I was 3 short laps behind second place and 1 big lap behind first.  It was a really nice surprise to be 3rd woman, and 8th Overall.

Now to take the year to recover and forget.... Good Bye Mountain, I will see you next year. :)

Stats:
Time: 6 hours
Distance: 21.7 with 14000 ft elevation change (1000 up, 1000 down per 5k loop)
Female Place: 3rd
Overall Place: 8th

Link to photos from the event: http://www.backprint.com/view_event_photos.asp?PID=bp%1EsBz&EVENTID=105251&PWD=0

Woodbridge Run for Pizza 4 Miler, Woodbridge, NJ. 7/11/12

I haven't raced, truly, since I blew up my foot in a 15k in late April.  I did go out to Ice Age 50 Miler in Wisconsin, but I knew before I even left New Jersey that I was not ready for the distance.

I have spent time recovering, rebuilding, and recently hitting the track for speed work.  Wednesdays are speed work days.  However, when I discovered my town had a 4 miler 2 miles from my house, I had to make this my "base-line"speed test run and see where I stand.  

The last fast race I ran was a 5k in early April, where I hit a 6:35 pace. I was a little lighter and a lot more confident then.  I hesitated about this race all day, because I did not want to put on those same racing flats I wore when I tore up my foot at the 4 mile mark of a 15k and do it all over again.  Also, I was pleased with my last 5k and I did not want to go out and discover that I lost to much speed.  I could not believe how anxious this race made me.  I decided to wear my Garmin so I can have data to help me pace.  That was a comfort.

I thought about running over to the race, but I wanted a few warm up miles in my trainers before swapping into my racing flats.  I also did not want to be stuck having to hobble home, if I blew up my foot again.  Once there, I learned that miss racing local runs.  This race had about 300 runners and I did not see a lot of familiar faces.  I have been out the local racing scene a little too long.  I need to do this more.

I met my friend Martin, who I haven't seen since the 15k.  We did our warm up together.  I always love hanging out with Martin at races.  

I wasn't sure where to line up.  At the start, I saw Ross, who calls me "Asthma" since he met me in a race while my asthma was so bad he thought I was going to need help.   I got in the second row, behind Martin, who is good at clearing the way.   Ross asked what my goal was.  I said I wasn't sure and he said "Really, YOU have no idea?"  :)   I confessed that I had a range... any where from sub-8 through sub-7 pace.   Secretly, I did want to break 7 but I wasn't really sure I could. 

I was grateful for the cooler temperatures, in the mid-80's today. It was still a little humid but not too bad at all.  The race started and I filed in behind the first place woman.  Just like last year, in the same place, I pulled up next to Esly whom I haven't seen since last year.   I asked how he felt (noticing the one calf sleeve) and he said "Good".  He asked me how I was, and I said "So, so".  Then he dropped a little psychological grenade which I can only assume was him trying to give me an edge.  He asked "So, you gonna break 25 today?"  I smiled and said "Not today.  Today I am playing."  He said, "We are on pace for 25?"  I said, "Yes, well, you know me.  This is how it starts.  This is how they all start. Then I fade."  First place woman pulled a little bit away and Esly whispered, "Just sit on her til the end"... I whispered back, "That's the plan." Then I pulled away from Esly. 

We hit the overpass and I looked at my pace and it had dropped too slow.  Sitting wasn't going to be a good idea if running easy would allow me to pass her.   I made a move, but settled back into 6:45 pace.  

I grabbed a cup of water at the mile 1 stop.  I usually wear my Garmin on the inside of my wrist, but I moved it to the top of my wrist today.  Don't know why.  When I saw the Mile 1 mark and needed to split the watch, I had just got handed water.  In a move of sheer brilliance, I grabbed the water in my left hand and proceeded to instantly DUMP out almost all of it as I turned my wrist so I could tap the split buttons.  I am sure the cup lady was either LOL or WTF as she watched my excellent decision making skills.  I hit split, salvaging a small swig of water.  I immediately recalled why I wear  the watch "upside down" and vowed to never wear the Garmin the right way again.  Mile 1 was 6:38. 

First place woman made a move back and passed me.  I decided to try the "Sit and Wait" strategy again.  I kept her in range as we moved along.  I ran a pace that felt like I was almost running too fast.  I made an effort to feel challenged but comfortable.  My middle two miles were 6:51 and 6:52 and very relaxed. First place woman would pull further ahead, then I would make up ground, and she would pull ahead again.  But as the minutes passed, I could sense her drifting out of range.

Mile 3 was clicked off at the top of the return trip over the overpass. As we hit that last mile, we both picked up a bit. It was here my asthma finally made an appearance. I felt tingly and uncomfortable.  I knew I could not kick the entire way in.  I decided that when I had a half mile to go, I would try to catch her.  At a half mile to go, I caught the guy ahead of me, who then battled me back and beat me by a second.  However, first place woman was a wonderful competitor and dropped the hammer in that last mile, taking the lead by 11 seconds.  My last mile was 6:43.  I looked back and Esly was just 1 second behind.  

It was a fun race. Having her there always 5-10 seconds ahead of me really motivated me.  Having my Garmin did help me run an evenly paced race.  I love the feeling of a good road race and I think I need to pop into a few more of these! :)

Stats:

16 OA/ 303 runner

2nd F

27:04

6:46 pace

http://woodbridge.patch.com/articles/running-and-pizza-finally-together#photo-10637422

  

Things I Learn About People (maybe just Ultra Runners) from my Dog

So we took Enzo to the Canal for another canoe trip.

Anyone who knows Enzo knows that he is a very vocal pooch.  His baseline reaction to anything that strikes him as potentially dangerous is to bark as loud and hard as he can at it.  Sure, this sound like a normal dog reaction.  I know he is just being a dog.  The only problem is I am not always sure what he will interpret as a threat.   Mostly any size dog at any distance is a threat.  A shrimp used as bait on a canal in Florida was a threat.  The Sheephead Fish we caught off the shrimp was a threat, but in Enzo's defense that thing had horse teeth and I was kind of scared myself.  Duffle bags or bat bags at baseball fields are threats. Once a fire hydrant in the dark was a threat.  Sometime shadows are threats.

We pull into the dirt lot and exit my car, just as a group of teenage guys with tackle boxes and fishing poles walk by the car.  They are a few steps ahead of us and look at Enzo.  They couldn't help it because Enzo decided they were a threat and started barking at them.  If Enzo ever barks at people, it is always from a distance and once he get closer to them he softens up and becomes friendly.

One turns back to see this yappy pooch in a life jacket and melts...."Awwwwwww! Look at that dog with the vest on!!!"  He turns back and keeps walking towards the canoes.  We are going the same way and we are right behind them.  We end up in a small group as we cross the canal over a foot bridge.  Enzo stops barking and takes a spot right in the middle of the group.  I can feel his body language soften as he seems like he likes being in the middle as we all move along.  I comment to Sid, that I think Enzo thinks we are a pack.

We get our canoe before the guys get theirs and we head off down the canal.  Enzo finds several more threats along the way... a bullfrog, a large grey heron, and what seemed to be a group of partridge or some other small set of birds walking along in the brush.

As we travel back to return our canoe, the guys are in theirs floating in the center of the canal.  Enzo spots them.  The guy who commented about Enzo's vest at the parking lot quickly, with great joy, says "Hey! Cool! There's the dog again!" Enzo barks back, but with his friendly bark... the bark he gives when he sees someone he knows coming towards him.  It is his "Hey There! In know you!" bark. The bark with no fear or anxiety.  He was just talking.

At that moment, it became so clear to me that a relationship developed between this guy and my dog.  I find this fascinating because it happened in moments only.  There relationship began when Enzo barked and the guy acknowledged Enzo with positive regard.  It was solidified when we all walked as pack over the foot bridge and Enzo got in the center of the group.

That was all it took to bond in a positive way.  Just seconds of moving along together with a common goal in a common direction and at a common speed.  Now my dog and this guy were friends.

This made me think about ultra runners.  Rarely do two or more ultra runners spend time running together at race, moving along with a common goal, in a common direction and at a common speed and not emerge from that experience immediate and fast friends on some level.  There must be someone primal about pack running that immediately solidifies friendships in moments.

Rambling

ram·bling  adj.

1. Often or habitually roaming; wandering.

2. Extended over an irregular area; sprawling: a large rambling country estate.

3. Lengthy and digressive: a rambling speech.

rambling  adj

1. straggling or sprawling haphazardly; unplanned a rambling old house

2. (of speech or writing) lacking a coherent plan; diffuse and disconnected

3. (Life Sciences & Allied Applications / Botany) (of a plant, esp a rose) profusely climbing and straggling

4. nomadic; wandering

I enjoy the running I do with Team in Training because I get reminded about just how many questions new marathoners have.  In the past we have discussed shoes, hydrations packs, stomach cramps, and other common concerns.  

Today as we physically rambled along the trails and paths of a beautiful NJ park, I got to verbally ramble with the group about fueling and bonking and what to do to avoid this. I enjoy this topic because in order to understand how attempt to avoid bonking, we have to discuss a whole lot of related topics, like hydration, electrolytes, and fuel consumption.  

My position on most things related to running is to quote Sheehan and explain that we are all an experiment of one.  I also like to use myself as an example of someone who has done absurd things which turned out to bring me some success.  For example, I fueled my best marathon with 6 gels.  This seems excessive to most people.  I took 1 before the start.  I opened 1 at the gun and sipped it through mile 4.  By mile 5 I opened my third, by mile 10 I opened my 4th, by mile 15 I opened by 5th, and by mile 20 I opened the last one I could tolerate.  I drank water and gatorade at each water stop.  I took a few e-caps at the start and half way.  I ran a 3:15 and took 3rd place in the race.  

This admission of gel gluttony often gets some reaction.  This leads me into my next question which is how well do we understand how many calories we burn per mile and how much fuel we need to succeed.  Most new runners have no idea how many calories are in one gel let along how many calories we burn per mile. 

In general, most runners think a good rule of thumb is to guess 100 calories per mile.  So that suggest that without counting a few ounces of gatorade or anything (usually liquids) that I consume pre-race, I am burning 2600 calories during a marathon, while consuming 600 calories in gel.  It no longer seems so absurd to consume so many gels for a marathon.  It even seems like maybe I should be taking more. 

This leads us to discuss how much energy the body stores.  We know that carbohydrates are the primary energy source for muscles.  Specifically, glucose, the product from breaking down carbohydrates is the fuel we use.  Glucose get stored in the body as Glycogen.  Apparently we store glycogen in our liver (100 g) and in our muscles (500 g).  The 500 g in our muscles will provide us with close to 2000 calories worth of energy.  If you don't fuel up properly or allow your body to be depleted, you may have less.

 http://www.livestrong.com/article/264767-how-is-excess-glucose-stored/

Ok, so  this suggests that the 2000 calories of energy stored in my body plus the 600 calories I consume during the race is enough to get me through the marathon.  It seemed to work for me that day. 

However, I recently learned that the 100 calories per mile rule is not so accurate. Apparently this information has been floating around for years, but I did not know it.  According to the cited article the most accurate formula for determining your "net calorie burn" (calories burned minus basal metabolism) is to multiple your weight in pounds by .63.  So a 120 lb woman burns about 75 calories per mile.  This information is not terribly crucial.  It could help with making sure your recovery meals are not more than your net burn if you are attempting to lean up.  http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-242-304-311-8402-0,00.html

After spending all this time pointing out how I consumed a bunch of calories and ran a bonk free marathon, I then like to share the story of my PR 50k from 2011.  During that race, I consume some real food prior to the event and only fueled en-route with 2 gels and about 20 oz of gatorade.  I ran a 4:15 31.06 mile race with a 5 second negative split with my last 5k faster than my first. 

How can it be that a ton of gel was just as good as two.  My only explanation is that the body burns energy in mysterious ways.  Weather may be a factor to help us stay hydrated and tolerate fuel. Also I am a fan of occasional depletion training.  I tend to trained depleted when I run with TNT.  I believe that as we training more, we use less fuel because we get more efficient, but what do I know?

I share my 50k low fuel story after seeming to suggest that tons of gel is the way to go to show that there are many ways to fuel a race. I believe that good training helps us run more efficiently so less fuel will be needed.  I believe that good pacing can help avoid a crash at the end.  But most importantly I believe that we have to just experiment with what works for us and it may vary as we get fitter.  Newer runners, who may run slower and less efficiently may need to fuel differently than leaner, lighter, faster, more efficient runners.  

I have found success and failure with both consuming a lot and consuming a little.  I am sure there are elements that can't be identified that do influence what each runners needs.  So I encouraged those I was with to alternate their fueling.  Some runs train by consuming more fuel.  Other runs, train by consuming less and just see how it feels.  

I have no idea what is the absolute right way to fuel a marathon, but what I do know is that we need carbohydrates, electrolytes and water.  Give the body those things in moderation and it should make the experience of running a marathon much better than if you fail to supply one of these vital elements. 

American Cancer Society Relay for Life, Woodbridge NJ. 6/9/12 - 6/10/12

Every August 5, I reach another anniversary of my cancer diagnosis.  I began the journey towards survivorship with the discovery that something was wrong on May 13, 2005 (yes, that was a Friday).  To celebrate another year of survivorship, I sign up for my local ACS Relay for Life which is always in June each year.  This is my third year.

I often don't make a huge deal about this event.  I don't beg for funds.  I don't "organize" a team.  I realize the ACS would love to see big teams and lots of donations.  However, due to the underlying emotional nature of my quiet celebration, I am not interested in becoming the director/coordinator of a large number of people.  I would rather be present, attempt to stay up all night (which in itself is becoming more of challenge), share the night with others also touched by cancer, and pay my respects to those who are no longer with us.

So instead of making a huge project out of this event, I simply sign up as a team of one. I post some links asking anyone who would like to join me in some laps to please join my team, make at least the $10 donation, and then meet me at the event at their convenience. This works for me.  Many people wish they could make it, also donate.  I know some very generous people.  Thank you again for your contributions to the ACS on my behalf!

Each year about 5-7 people, some very close friends and some very new friends, show up at various points in the night to walk or jog with me around the park.  Each year I raise about $600, which I think is quite good since I usually don't know if I can commit to the Relay until about 2 weeks prior to the event.

This year was the first year I got to the park alone.  I set up my tent, my table, my chair.  There was a moment when I felt overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness in a sea of people playing games and having fun, so I called Tamra :).

One wonderful gesture that truly helped me feel less lonely occurred as I walked in the back of the pack of 17 survivors, and I passed the luminary dedicated to me by Jacqui.  To see my name and a lovely message helped me know that even when we walk along we are not.  Without fail, every time I go to this event I find myself getting overwhelmed by emotion that sneaks up on me.  As I completed the survivor lap, I was grateful to get the emotions out of my system, especially before my people arrived to join me various shifts.

At 8:30 pm,  Sidney was the first to arrive and wasn't staying long.  He had to be up by 5:30 am to head to the base and needed to go home to sleep.  He walked a few laps, saw Jacqui's luminary and was pleasantly surprised as he showed me what he found.

Just before 9:00 pm Ann arrived.  I "met" Ann on the Team in Training Alumni page and was very flattered that she would come to join me for my run.  It was wonderful to discuss her plans as new marathoner with an NYC marathon entry.   Sid left as Ann arrived.

By 9:30 Tamra arrived as I ran with Ann.  The thing about running at night, is that you can't help but automatically become fast friends.  All I can say about Tamra is that I can always count on her to be around for the extreme ridiculousness I come up with.  She is just an awesome friend and I am always grateful to see her.

By 10 pm Kerry arrived and we continued on the journey.  Walking, running, talking.  We sat for breaks after a few 0.8 mile loops.  Kerry is one of the funniest and smartest people I know.  Her wittiness always catches me off guard and some of the things she has said over the years end up filed away in my mind as some of the funniest things I have ever heard anyone say.  I was so happy to see her.

By 10:30 Lauri arrived.  I was looking forward to Lauri's arrival.  After a recent passing of her dear friend, I wanted Lauri to come Relay with me.  We didn't get to spend enough time talking about the amazing things Angela has done, but I know we both had her in our minds.  I was glad to have Lauri there to make me laugh with her hilarious sense of humor.

By 11:30 or so, Rich had made it.  I met Rich through the Wickatunk Track Club running group page, after my friend Jim Plant sent me a message that I should join the club.  I mentioned in passing that I was doing the Relay and he signed up to run some laps at night.

Jim Plant is a member of the Mangum Track Club in NC, and the Wickatunk club started by Rich is modeled and inspired the North Carolina organization.  As we discussed NC running and who Rich knew on the Mangum Track Club, Rich mentioned how he ran the last bit of his shirt run with Jim Plant.

Almost on cue, as if he knew we were talking about him, at 12:30 I get a text from Jim Plant who was running the Boogie marathon in NC and we got a brief race report.  Awesome timing Jim!

By 2:00 am Jess texted to report she was lost b/c the GPS park street address I found online actually sent people up the block about 1/4 of a mile.  By 3 am she had arrived just as Rich needed to get home.

With a little break in the tent at 4 am for rain, Jess and I walked a few laps through sunrise. At 5:30, she needed to get going to meet the TNT running at the GWB run.

By this point I had 29.9 miles and I decided that 50k would be a nice place to stop.  Tamra had taken a nap and woke up for my final laps.  As I hit 31.06, I stopped my watch noting that it took me over 6 hours longer to complete this 50k than my best 50k effort.  Tamra noted that out of all the crazy crap I come up with, this night was one of the most pleasant.  I agreed.

I moved my car closer and thought about how I tired I was.  I didn't have much to pack but I thought about how nice it would be if Sid was here to help me carry my gear to my car so I could make just one trip.  And there in the distance, I saw Sidney walking towards me. He decided to stop over before he left for work just to see if I needed any help.

That was nice.

One Step at a Time...

I sat across from Barbara (yes the names have been changed) and asked her to draw a boat, a lighthouse and a storm.  She protested that she can't draw a straight line.  I insisted this really isn't about the drawing and if she humors me she will see I am being honest with her.   I explain that she is free to tear up her artwork at the end of our session if she wishes.  It made her feel better to know she could destroy the potentially embarrassing evidence of her childlike expression.  She trusted me, sorted through my art materials and gave this a shot.

It took months for me to be in this seat, the one across from Barbara as she sat in her recliner in the bay where she gets infused twice per month for hours.  She has colon cancer that spread to her liver.  She has been getting treated at the Cancer Center from before I started last March.  Since then, I often walked past her bay, occasionally asking her to give art therapy a try.  She would wave me off, politely, say no thank you and tuck her wig-covered head down into her word search.  She would busy herself with puzzles while the pump whirred in the background for hours.

Something about her changed a month ago. I could feel it.  She made longer eye contact with me as I walked past.  I could tell she wanted to share her thoughts with someone and she was sizing me up.  I offered my services again.

Despite feigning resistance for consistency's sake, I knew she would create something.  I gave the directive to draw a Boat, a Lighthouse and the Storm and she got to work.  I picked this topic after reading about it in compilation about Favorite Therapeutic Techniques. I have been experimenting with this one in a variety of settings and learning how it reveals a person's attitude towards adversity.

I could have asked Barbara to stand on her head and we would have likely gotten to her story anyway.  It didn't matter what I asked of her, she was clearly ready to open up.  After some time working with all the materials (magazine photos, water color paint, markers, colored pencils, etc) I had to offer, she presented me with her image of a boat collaged over a picture of a lighthouse, with watercolor painted rain falling over half the scene. A bright sun shined on the right half.  The boat was far to the left headed though tumultuous waves as it neared the shore.

I asked her what was going to happen.  She shared that boat wants to get to the shore.  I asked what it needed to make sure it made it.  She immediately shifted to first person (I love when this happens), explaining "I need to navigate carefully through those rough waters near the coast since I don't know what is under there and it looks dangerous.  Also, I need to pray."  I asked if she thought she would make it.  She beamed that she believes she is almost there.

I asked how her treatment was going.  Here was her moment. This is why I was here.  She shared that she had a scan recently and that all those stubborn lesions that had threatened to take her life had shrunk!  In fact, only one small one remained. This meant the the treatment was working.

We talked about the relationship between her picture of the storm and her treatment. She recognized the powerful parallels.  She appreciated being able to see that she was still concerned about booby-trapped coast lines that are tricky to navigate. She fears getting to close to success and then crashing because she wasn't careful.  She can see the sunshine and knows where to go.  She is so close that she finally feels safe talking about feeling better.  About feeling lucky. About feeling stronger.  She dated the picture and packed it away to keep.

Barbara was just one patient I saw today, prior to preparing for my run home at the end of my shift.  I love running home from the Cancer Center.  It makes me feel like I have come a long way.  When I see my patients in the waiting room and they observe me on my way to run, I see them smile because I know they know I had cancer too.  I don't even mind that my run is through some urban areas that are quite the opposite of running through the natural beauty of woodsy trails.

Today was special, not only because I got to be a witness to Barbara's joy, but because just before my shift ended I was gifted by our dietitian a package of wool hats donated to her by a charity.  She gave away the hats to everyone who would take them, but about 20 remained.

As I shared my plans to run/walk all night at the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life to celebrate my 7 years of being cancer free this weekend, the dietitian insisted I take the hats to the relay and pass them on.  Hats really are a big deal. I still have all my hats, especially the rainbow striped one my brother gave me to keep my head warm and brighten my day.  It was a hat, glove, scarf set. I wear the gloves at ultras now.

Twenty handmade knitted wool hats are a little bulky and we scrambled to figure out a way for me to get them home. She found a small apple store bag in her desk that held them perfectly. This, of course, made me think of Steve Job's recent passing from Pancreatic Cancer.  He was able to buy the best care and it gave him about 8 years.  Cancer does not discriminate.

I changed from my work clothes to my running clothes, which today consisted a neon yellow shirt given to me by the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults at the Half-Full Tri Relay last October.  The back of the shirt says Wanna Fight. I didn't know this for the longest time.  I often wondered people behind me in races would comment that they really didn't want to fight me.  I often wonder what I was I doing that made so many people say this to me.  The front of the shirt says boldly 'Team Fight!"  I feel strong when I wear this shirt.

I secured the apple store bag of hats to the back of my running pack and took off through the urban jungle, getting the raised eye-brows I have become used to.  Clearly running down the streets of Elizabeth is not usual.

I am not sure if it was my outfit of the bright yellow Team Fight shirt with loud navy blue shorts and red shoes, or if it was the apple store packaged wool hats for cancer patients, or if it was the fact that I was running home, relatively fast, from the cancer center that made me feel like a cancer fighting superhero.  I felt like I had a purpose.  Like I was on a mission that was meaningful.

What I do know is that this feeling changed as I passed the mile long stretch along the cemetery.

It was there that I wondered just how many people were in that cemetery that were not as lucky as me. Cancer sucks.  It is brutal.  It is unpredictable.  Some of us recover.  Some of us beat it because we catch it early and/or treatment works.  Some of us beat the crap out of bodies in the process.  Cancer somehow has a way of even making those who manage to escape it's clutches feel badly.  Survivors Guilt.

I am grateful that I did survive but I honestly don't feel that I had to fight hard for it.  I feel more that I was lucky and for that reason I try to give back.  In addition to possibly helping others, I also want to be sure I am ready to fight again if my own cancer returns.

This is how I ended up running through a tough neighborhood, carrying hats and dressed like superhero in a hydration pack.  But as I pass the cemetery, I am overwhelmed by the sense that a few hats or some art therapy or a little fundraising may not do as much as I would like to believe.  Sometimes things feel futile.  However, I am very much aware that doing nothing is certain to help no one.

As I turned onto my street, I was a little surprised by my run.  It took me just over 1 hour and 2 minutes to get the 7.5 miles home.  That is about an 8:16 pace while lugging a few pounds of gear.  This was my fastest commute yet.  I was inspired.  Usually, I feel like the wind is in my face whole way.  Today I felt like I was running downhill.  It felt incredibly easy, as it should.

I am lucky. I know this. I am grateful.  Seven years out and I am able to run strong.  Seven years ago I wasn't sure what would happen next.  I wish there was more that could be done to help others hurry up and feel the way I do today.  My success lies in early detection and a personal ability to decide on the most aggressive treatment I could tolerate.  Even as a lucky survivor, remnants of trauma remain as I often wonder how long it will take for me feel like I don't have to worry about feeling like I did seven years ago again.

So for now, I run and hopefully I will figure out what I am doing one step at a time.

Ice Age 50 Mile DNF, La Grange, Wi. 5/12/12

It was months ago that Western State has it's lottery. I was not in it. I was surprised to find out I had failed to qualify for the race. I had run qualifying times on several occasions, but because I often do much of my ultra running at duration races, timed events like 6 hrs or 24 hrs, none of my splits counted.

I decided that I wanted to run a 50 because I can only recall running stone cat in 2009 and no other 50s. I needed to run a 50 in 11 hours to meet this goal. Way back in January I had to decide what to do since races close fast and that is when ice age opened. I was in no shape in January. I also really dislike preregistering for events. However, the videos I saw of Ice Age made it seem worth the trip. I registered and the race closed 7 days later.

Sid had serendipitously been granted that weekend off so I was excited about flying int Chicago with him. We have been talking about visiting Chicago for some time. This would be a short visit but still fun. I booked the flights on American. This was odd because I have not flown commercial in so long I forgot how to do it. It was going to be nice for Sid to get to sleep for a change rather than fly. I got some deals on hotels for non-refundable fees. Same with the rental car.

Then I got hurt.

I have never strained or tore my plantar fascia so badly that I could not walk before. It took 2 days for the pain to begin to subside. This was 2 weeks before this 50. Really! I suspected at that moment my 50 was over. I should have dropped then, but I was not yet ready to give up hope. First, I believe the human body is amazing and can sometimes heal quickly. I find this to be particularly true of acute issues. Chronic issues take awhile to heal, while acute seem to resolve quicker. I hoped I would heal enough for an 11 hr 50.

I also struggle with the idea of how much pain I experience is psychosomatic. I know when I get high hopes for myself I also put pressure n myself. I tried to mitigate my stress by not telling too many people about Ice Age. However after my 41 mile 6 hr run, I thought maybe I could even be towards the front of the female finishers.

It is hard to be friends with ultra runners and not talk about race plans.

With all these aspiration, I had to get healthy fast. I took a light week after the injury. I still ran at least 1 mile per day to keep my streak alive.  My streak is an important source of inspiration to me that I will not abandon willingly. I moved up to 2 then 3 milers. As the days passed I was feeling better.  I totaled 16 miles that week.

Long days on my feet pushed me back a step, more so than any 1 mile shuffle did, but by last Tuesday I was up to 10 per day. I managed 3 days in a row of 10 and my foot pain continued to get better, although it wasn't gone. I logged a 50 mile rolling 6 day so I felt I had a shot at finishing this.

I looked forward to a trip with Sid even if I dropped. Wednesday night, the air force called. They were taking back Sid's days off and had to go somewhere else. Awesome.

So Friday I was off to Chicago alone. I got my rental and made the 1:45 hour drive to La Grange.


La Grange is a funny place. People are so very nice. Everyone seems to know each other. I ate dinner at a bar where people order drinks like Gimlets and Arnold Palmers. They talk about the town hall meetings. The roads have signs like "accident reduction zone. Turn on your lights" in places where the road stretches for miles without another car in sight. The asphalt has rough patches to alert you to the upcoming stop signs. It seemed like a peaceful place to live.

The prerace bib pick up was a lot of fun. There was a tribute to decades of ice age 50s with buckle displays and photos. I loved the photo of the start from 1986. It started on the road that year. You can see the rows of starters and what struck me first was that not one person carried anything. Oh wait, I lie. One dude in a half shirt carried a stick. I was told he was a special guy who sat upside lotus poses before races and ran with his lucky stick. Today people arrived with so much crap it looked like an Occupy camp. I had my bottle and wore my nathans vest so I could carry to huge set of rental car keys.

So I get to the start and the weather was great. A little split second drizzles at 58 degrees. It was a little humid. The RD says go and people go out hard. I am scared about my foot but it feels ok for now. I had high hopes the lingering pain was just my nerves and thought I was proving it. I was just sub-9 with each mile and it felt so easy. I had no complaints. I was entertained by how many runners sound like chemists out in the woods. Everyone is seeking the the secret to finding more energy within their bodies. Two women shared secrets about 5 hour energy. One man mentioned some herb that helps you burn more body fat. Two young guys discussed the value of walking.

It was fun to just listen to all the conflicting words of wisdom. . . . Until mile 6 when nagging started. . . Then 10 miles came and I couldn't deny I had begun to irritate it. I slowed down, and ran/walked through 14. Pace was still in the 10:00s. The next 5 miles included more walking than running with my brain occupied with how to calculate what mile pace I needed for an 11 hr 50. Let's see 11x 60 equals 660. 660 divided by 50. Huh? Oh I can do that in my head right now. Too hard. How about the other way. That's easier. 12 min miles is 5 miles per hour. That's a 10 hour 50. I can do that. 15 min miles is 4 mph so in 12 hours that's on,y 48 miles. That is too slow. Ok. So if I let the Garmin average pace fall to no more than 13 min pace then I should be fine.

Off I go....Run until it hurts.... Walk until it hurts.  Repeat. This was working for a bit but the pain was getting worse. By mile 19, running was too painful. I was on my way to the turn around and decided that I could not hike 30 miles and be able to continue to train so I decided I was done. I asked some volunteers how I could get back to the start. I had no one to call. He offered to drive me. I agreed but told him I needed to be sure, so I headed back out to the turn around .3 miles away. I knew I made a good choice when the pain was ranging on just that walk. I got back to the volunteer and called it a day at 22 miles.

I really needed that time to get myself composed. I was so disappointed to have to stop that I could feel myself getting overwhelmed with emotion. I really hate crying in the woods. It happens a lot to me in ultras. I am grateful to be a chick during those moments because if I was a dude it would be much harder to explain.

So I quit.

I retreated to my car and took a nap. I woke up hungry and went to the BBQ. It was free to runners. I was asked for my name and which race I completed. I quickly responded "my name is Shannon and I completed the 22 miler. I was the first one done so I won it!". The guy on my left got it. He understood I DNFed the 50 and burst out laughing and gave me credit for my positive spin on my defeat.

USA-TF 15k State Championship. Clinton, NJ 4/28/12

I wasn’t sure whether I would go to this race.  I was very busy finishing up some work during my "last week" of my grad school before this race.  I purposefully took more rest than ever this past week because I felt after my 67.5 miles last Saturday, I could use some time off my feet.  Why would I think this?  People like to remind me that resting is good?  Rest. Rest. Rest.  You run too much. You need to take it easy.  You are going to break…etc.  I hear that a lot.  Mostly from people who run a lot less than me.  I don't pay it any mind when it comes from non-runners.  I must admit I get a little annoyed when I hear it from runners who act as if they know more about what I need than I do.  Funny how people often like to tell others what to do, even if opinions are not requested.  Regardless, life was exhausting me, so I figured maybe some rest will make me stronger.

I had an average of 10 miles plus per day since 1.1.12.  I ran about 20 miles over the week, the lowest I have in a very very very long time. I got my papers done, closed my files at the Clinic, finished up organizing my therapy log, met with my supervisor for a final review and got my academic/professional life in order during my down time. I hoped I was well-rested leading up to this 15k.  If I had a great day, I could likely run sub-7 pace for the 9.3 miles.  After all, I ran a 1:28 20k only one week after a fast 50k in March.   

I started strong and hit mile 1 at 6:55.   I hit mile 2 at 13:50.  So far so good, but I could feel my legs were like bricks.  They felt so heavy and lacked spring.  Even though I didn’t break myself last weekend, I guess walking may be somehow as hard as running, since I was clearly not recovered. Or maybe resting too much just made my body too tight and not as pliable.  I was just not feeling smooth, strong, or fluid.

In hindsight, I believe if I just kept my mileage up, and varied my training paces, I would have shook out these cob-webs by race day.  Instead, I felt stiff and tight and tired.  At mile 3, I decided to just back it down and run about 7:15-7:30-ish.  People began to pass me.  I was able to run at that speed quite comfortably until mile 4 when my left PF started to nag.  This was not completely unexpected.  After my 5k two weeks back, I aggravated it enough to call off a 20 mile run, but I made it through 15 hours of an ultra and didn't have PF pain, so I felt I was ok.  By mile 5 my PF was so very angry and I knew I was in trouble.  I hit mile 6 and could not believe I was going to have to run 3 more miles on a foot that was bailing out on me. 

The pain had me rolling way out the outside of my foot.  I lost my ability to hold my pace.  If I tried to run up on my forefoot like my body wants to, the pain got worse at my heel.  I wasn’t sure if I should slow down or speed up.  I just wanted to hurry up so I could stop.  I knew I had a visible limp at this point and still miles to cover. 

I just couldn’t bear the idea of DNF'ing and felt that 10 minutes miles would be better than 0 minute miles for my psyche.  When I DNF a race to save myself injury, I get to live a physically pain-free existant between races struggling with the sense that I probably could have finished and still not have had any residual damage. I can beat myself up a lot for "quitting" especially when there is nothing wrong with my body the next day or two after I quit.  However, when I fight for the finish, and then suffer significant damage, I have to live with the ability to NOT train and race like I want to and that is equally as bad.  It is gamble for the lesser of two evils.  Sometimes things seem worse mid-race than they do later, especially in ultras, and quitting is not really necessary.  Sometimes thinks feel better while moving, like in short races, than they will feel once you stop and DNF may actually save something from reaching the breaking point.  I took a lot of DNF's last year "to help myself" and it didnt do much for my psyche or my race results.  I have finished every race this year and breaking the DNF streak became a sore of pride.  It became important for me to finish and see what happens.

From the start of this race, I kept double, triple, quadruple splitting my new tap screen (got to adjust that later), so I was missing all my lap splits, which is probably for the best.   I just focused on moving forward.  Runners tried to encourage me as they passed me…. “Come with me!" "You can do it!"  "Let's Go."  "Pick up the pace!” prompting me to respond “I’m fine.  You go on!”  People seem to think they are being helpful and motivating.  But from my position, having to force a smile and engage in a conversation about why I really don't want to tag along with them is not something I really wanted to get involved with. The nice part of me feels it would be rude to just ignore people who clearly think they are trying to help, so I offer some response.  I may be wrong here, but my sense is that  sometimes people don't want to be encouraged by those runners who are passing them.  I understand that this peculiar behavior of saying something encouraging to a person you are besting can occur for a wide range of reasons.  I am sure I am guilty of this myself, but I just try to not do it to others. 

I prefer to really cheer on those who are passing me. I figure sometimes people are training through races.  Not every race has to be a PR.  Sometime people just don’t want to discussing mid-race that they are in pain.  Some people don't want to hear how they are doing GREAT! when they clearly know they are not doing great.  I figure those passing me could be having a good day so I cheer them on. 

In this race, I just wanted to live in my misery and not have to force smiles or offer explanations to strangers who simply had good intentions and thought they were being helpful.  All I really needed was to stop moving on a painful foot.  

One runner caught up to me, but was still close to my speed.  She offered “How about we try to finish this together”. I knew her and she is usually ahead of me.  I finally reported, “You go ahead, I have some Plantar Fasciitis causing a lot of pain right now.  I just want to get this over with without doing more damage”.  She advised “Just don’t hurt yourself.”  I wondered to myself why she was even near me and then she admitted, “I have strained calf right now.”  I joked, “I’ll race you to the ice packs after the finish line!”  We leaped frogged each other on the way in. 

I was so very happy to see that park where the finish line resided. We have to run a lap around the parking lot before we get to the finish line.  I saw Beau, a runner on my Do Run Runners team. I desperately called out to him, "Can you find me some ice?"  I had no idea if he could, I just knew I needed it ASAP.   At this point, I tried to pick it up my pace, but I could not put any pressure on my toes because it tore at the heel.  I jogged around the path and finished the 15k in about 1:10:45.  Beau was there with a handful of ice. My hero!  I tore off my flats and packed it under my foot, so happy to just sit down and stop running.  I eventually figured out that if I stuffed the ice into my arm warmer, I could tie it around my foot.  Mark W., noticed I needed something for the ice. He darted off and found me a rubber glove.  I packed the ice in the glove and stuffed the glove inside the arm warmer and tied it around my foot.  I was good for a few minutes.  What else could I do?

After sitting and chatting, while secretly freaking out inside, I decided I needed to get home.  As I stood up I hoped I could walk.  I was disappointed to find that my steps were even more painful now than when running.   I knew I really screwed myself up, but I hoped I would be ok in a day or two. 

I called two ultrarunning friends on my drive home.  I like these guys.  They always encourage me to run more and never tell me to stop running when I am running well.  Both Ray and John concurred with what I should do to deal with this.  Ice, Massage, and careful deliberate stretching of the parts of the Fascia that are not painful. I now had my plan.

I thank Beau and Mark for helping me to get the ice immediately.  I am sure things could be worse if I didn’t act fast to reduce swelling and pain upon stopping. 

From now own, once I can run again, rest weeks are getting crossed off my list… well, drastic rest week.  I will still ebb and flow with my mileage, but is seems that there is no real reason for me to shut things down, even if others are uncomfortable with how much I run and constantly encourage me to "rest".  If I get hurt off a 60-70 mile week I can take it.  Getting hurt of 20 mpw is baffling.

My final time was 1:10:45 and I ended up 3^rd in my AG.  This is not a bad result considering how I felt.  Hopefully it won’t take too long to get back to training again.  

24 Hour Relay for Cancer, Hampton Virginia. 4/21/12-4/22/12

This has been a tough report for me to write.  The truth is I have started and stopped writing it several times.  I trained quite well for this event and seem to have suffered another disappointing performance regardless of my preparation.   I understand that sometimes things just don’t work out.  I believe that the 80 degree day was just too much for me to adjust to, since I was used to training and racing in the cooler north.  Regardless of what excuse I can muster to explain how I could run so well in the recent past and not be able to put things together when it matter is really not important. 

Of greater importance is the reason we go to Hampton in April.  I am on my way to 7 years of cancer-survivorship.  I have run Hampton since 2009, when I was struggling with biopsy after biopsy and fearing a recurrence.  I had not run an ultra and did not plan to that day in 2009, but I ended up staying on my feet for 100k.  I was not sure what I was doing that day, but running through the woods at George’s race changed me forever.  I came home an ultrarunner. That next week I had the tumor surgically removed and discovered it was benign. Thankfully, I was still cancer free.

Since that day, I have run many ultras.  Some very well.   Some very poorly.  When I stand at that starting line, it is almost as much of a surprise to me what will happen as it is to my competition.  I can run well off poor training,  Run poorly off great training.  Rarely does anything make complete sense. In general, good training leads to good racing (especially in the shorter stuff), but I have not been able to figure out what I need to do to ensure a great  24 hour race.  What I have figured out is that for me,  I just need to roll with the punches and survive.

This weekend was about the Race and the Team and helping to bring more excitement to a race in hopes of helping to raise more money for the American Cancer Society.  George puts on a no frills run and most of the money goes to the ACS.  He still gives out T-shirts.  He still gives out plaques.  He marks his course well and he makes sure we have water and an indoor bathroom. It is currently my favorite 24 hour, although Hinson is making a run for the title ;).

George’s race is special.  He is the only RD I know that has an Ultra Relay competition where a team of up to 12 runners get to accumulate mileage.  Last year my team set a new record at 802.75 miles

This was my second year putting together a team for the 24 Hour Run for Cancer.  It is a tedious process for me because I don’t just take the first 12 people I can find.  I don’t even really care about how far someone can run. What I really want is to put together a team of runners who will offer a kind heart, generous spirit, and endless patience, regardless of how exhausted they become.  I want a team that has some connectedness to cancer and compassion for the cause.  I want some runners that bring years of experience who can mentor the newbie runners along the way.  I want a team of peaceful people who are kind in general and passionate about running regardless of what pace they move.  

Even though my race performance bombed, I hit a home run with my team. I would like to thank John Price, Frank Lilley, Tom Gabell, Tony Mollica, Jim Plant, Mike Senko, Ladonna Kapustensky

Alanna Garrison-Kast, Kati Craig, Cheryl Lager and Tamra Jones for being part of the ultra-journey that has become my life.

I am so tremendously proud of my team. I can’t say enough about how Awesome our team mileage leader, course record holder, and this year's women's winner, Cheryl Lager is.  At 52.5 miles we were together as I was falling apart and she was just smiling and happy to be on pace.  I wish I could run the second 12 hours of a race like her.  

Tom Gabell is an inspiration as a person. Such a fighter and so freakin’ fast.  I ran the first lap with him trying to figure out how fast we were actually moving and wondering if it was humanly possible to slow him down.  

I can’t say enough about John Price, who spent many hours with me, quietly supporting and encouraging me as I tried to stay positive, while we walked.  It was so early to be walking and I was desperate to stay in a good frame of mind.  John was a rock.  He let me play with the pacing, try to add in minutes of running when I thought  I could.  He never once told me what to do, but was just present and a companion.  This is a trait I wish many more people in this world possessed.  As much as I like to talk, I was never more grateful to for the ability to simply walk in silence.

I always love the laps I get to do with Frank.  Frank was on fire!  Just months after hip surgery with his longest run of about 11 miles, he had often contemplated dropping so he would not hold back the team. I am so grateful that he came and hit that 50 mile mark!!!  Holy Cow, what a fighter!

Due the timing of our paces, and the length of the loop, I did not get to run as much with many other members of my team as I wished.  It is amazing how you can spend a whole day with people and not see them all that much. Although my path crossed with Kati, Matt, Ladonna, Mike, Tony, and Jim, never was it long enough.

One person who was a constant during my day, but not an official team member was incredible friend Tamra Jones.  I am thinking she could start a business for herself crewing people.  Although most members of the team said they wouldn’t need much help, I knew I was going to need someone to run off for coffee and mashed potatoes for me during the race.  Tamra also helped with all kinds of silly things like cutting up cantaloupe, finding crap that I couldn’t find, or letting me sit for a few minutes while she grabbed something I could have done on my own.  It was nice to have a helper.   She also managed to track all of our laps, make sure the official count was correct, take orders from other team members for little things they felt they needed.  She worked her butt off all day and still went out for a lap with me when I was at my worst and on the verge of throwing up.  

I had felt sick the entire race and I know historically that once I throw up the race is over.  I usually can get another lap done after that but my body shuts down.  It is better for me to walk and not throw up.  On that lap with Tamra, I finally got sick.  It was just only over 65 miles into the race.   

My memory escapes me but I know I ate some watermelon and tried to run again.  I ran past George who was walking with his daughter.  I was feeling so ill and was about 1 mile into the loop when I threw up everything I ate again.  My stomach was so irritated I had begun to throw up black curdled stuff I had not even eaten.  This is what happens when you throw up while wearing a head lamp. You can see exactly what you are puking and all I could think was “what the heck is that!”   Now I know to turn off the headlamp first, then throw up. 

That final lap was the most painful loop I have walked in a long time.  It took forever and I was not confident I was actually going to make it out of the woods.  Each step felt more impossible.  At the half way point, I had to sit on a bench.  I was wondering how long until someone found me if I passed out.  I found some will to get up and keep moving.  I recall trying so hard to get out of the woods and stopping at the .5 mile cone. 

I could not believe I still had an entire half mile to go.  It was amazing how far a half mile seemed.  I leaned over and threw up again.  Then like a cheerful angel, Cheryl found me stuck there, frozen in space, but hurling at the same time and I was never so grateful.  Her positive spirit was such a lift. She was frustrated about a part of her race and technically she was actually complaining about something, but even during a rant she was still incredibly positive. As she talked, I was able to move forward and focus on her issue.  Being able to think about someone else for a while helped me move on.

Once back at the HQ, I found my blanket, curled up in the dirt, b/c my chair had gotten wet, called Ray and told him I was having a bad day and going to sleep. I knew I wasn’t going back out there to run.  Once I throw up, it takes me about a day to feel better.   An hour nap wasn’t going to fix this.  I hoped to possibly walk some, so I set my alarm for 1 hour, took my shoes off tucked them under my back pack, used my pack as pillow and closed my eyes.  That is when the rain really started. The canopy was leaking onto all our gear.  All the bags of food got soaked.  My shoe bag was soaked.  I seemed to have found the one dry patch in a world of wet and had my dry shoes under my pack, so I was all good. 

Many amazing runners continued on, but I was not ready.  It was a hard fight to get out in the rain.  Tamra had left for the hotel, so I had nowhere to go get dry.  My tuper-ware container of clothes seemed ok, unlike my shoe bag.  I stayed under my warm dry blanket as the temperature dropped.   I heard some chatter around me about wolf spiders being all over the place and thought at least it is not as bad as the rats at NC24 last year.

At 2:30 am the rain slowed and I decided I wanted to head back out.  I walked to the bathroom and just that walk up the little hill caused my stomach to spasm. I was throwing up nothing but it sucked.  At that point, I let my team know that I was not going and they could go without me.

Frank and I stayed at the HQ while Jim, Ladonna, and Mike headed out.  Frank was so tired he started singing after he forgot I was there. That is one of my favorite memories of the night. He surprised himself when he turned and asked me how long I was sitting there, wrapped in my blanket, in the one remaining dry camping chair while he sang in the rain.  I had told him that I had never left. 

At some point between 4:00 and 6:00 am Jim and I decided to finally make a move to the indoor facility.  There we camped out on the floor in the warmth waiting for the sun to rise.  Alanna showed up just past sunrise, then Tamra made it back.  Kati came back from her hotel.  Cheryl was still moving as was Tom.  Everyone was there except Matt who lived nearby and drove home after he hit 75.

The team was in wonderful spirits and we had no idea how we did as a team.  It wasn’t until the ride home that we calculated that we could have possibly set a new Team Record.  George sent the unofficial results out and it was confirmed: Team Awesome 2012 set a new team record by .75 at 803.5! 

The bigger victory goes to the ACS that was offered a $15,000 donation from the race.  I hope to return next year with a new team, but I think my goal has already changed.  Rather than set my sights on hitting 100 miles, instead I would like to run a lap with each member of my team, thanking them in person for training, donating, and running with me at a very special race that I hold very dear to my heart. 

Thank you Team and George for spending that day honoring and supporting those truly fighting a battle with cancer.  After all, what we go through out there is all in the name of fun. It is nice to know that the money raised is being used to help those who really need help. 

Ship Bottom Sprint for Life 5k, 4/14/12

This race is a fundraiser for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS).  Team in Training (TNT) raises money for this organization by asking athletes to volunteer to fund raise to help the LLS fight the battle against blood cancers.  I am a captain for the Monmouth and Middlesex County TNT teams and love when a race I want to do also supports a cause I am involved with.

Bill, also a captain and fund -raising marathoner for TNT, joined me at the 5k.  He also agreed to come meet me early for some warm up miles.  I have been cutting back my mileage because my plantar fascia is feeling achy lately and I have an important race this weekend.  I still wanted to get at least 10 miles in today.  Originally I wanted 20... then 15... then decided, 10 should be enough ;)


This race started at 12:30 pm.  It was very warm by then.  People were grumbling in the parking area about the start time, but I was ready to roll with it.

I honestly feel frightened by 5k's.  I am a huge chicken at the start of each of these races.  I used to race a 5k once per week, but it has been a very long time since my last 5k.  I am more comfortable and less anxious starting a 24 hour race than I am at a 5k.  There is something about running full speed from start to finish that just hurts and there is no room to fall off pace and recover.

I lined up towards the front, decided to get a few rows back because I really did not expect to win the thing.. but would regret this later.   The race was large and when the gun went off it was as if my side of the starting line was made up of runner who were just out for a stroll.  I should have known I made a bad decision to start behind the guy in sweat pants and the row of young kids.  But hey, sometimes you just don't know what people will do.

Since the first turn was to the left, I started on the left, but it seemed the entire right side of the starting area beat my side to the first turn.  This created a situation where I was boxed in and had a lot of work to do.  It took me until the first turn to just get out from behind sweat pants guy and the children.  LOL!!

Like usual,  these slow starts are really not as bad as they seem and I was out of the pack before I knew it.  Through the windy turns, I began to pick off people and hit M1 at 6:38 and felt very good.

I was feeling good and as we hit the main straightaway into a noticeable, but not too bad, headwind I decided that I wanted to conserve a little.  We hit the circle turnaround and I counted two women ahead of me.  I saw a man heading into the circle point to someone behind me and hold up 4 fingers.  I did not look back, but I deduced that this meant the 4th place female was on my butt.  Although, I felt like I slowed down a lot, M2 clocked in at 6:46.

I could see the 2nd place woman ahead of me in the distance.  I have seen her before and I know she  runs well.  However,  I felt like this time I was moving faster than her at this point in the race.  We had a long, over a mile, stretch to go down the main street before me turned towards the finish. I focused on her and wondered if I could catch her. 

As I watched the street signs count down the distance, 24th street, 23rd, 22nd, 21st,... I knew I had to push myself to just hold the pace.  It was the longest mile and at about 17th street I could feel my form beginning to fall apart.  There was about .5 miles to go and I was proud that I held it together that long.

As I hurried towards the Starting Line (which we ran through on our way to the finish) I began to wonder if I could set a new PR.  My best 5k, 20:27, was a long time ago.  I have not run dedicated speed work. I just log LSD and do some progression runs mid-week. I was hopeful but I knew it would be close.

I could see that I was reeling in the woman ahead, but as we hit the last turn I knew she was out of reach. We both kicked it in and she finished about 5 seconds ahead of me.  As the clock ticked the time, I saw it was already 20:25 and I still had a stretch to go until I reached the finish.  I ran the last 1.1 miles in7:11 (6:32 pace), the fastest part of this race.

Looking back on my splits, I am very pleased with how I executed this race.   Although I don't feel very swift, I do feel strong.  As I told Bill at the finish line, this sport is amazing because it is honest.  If you work hard, stay healthy, and pace yourself smart, you will see positive results.  I am grateful to have been able to train very high mileage and now I am seeing how the LSD pays off even when racing the short/fast stuff!

Stats:
20:32 (6:38 pace)
15th OA
3rd Female

I won a really nice cookie jar with a note inside that said "We are proud of you" :)  (Thanks!)