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A Girl’s Guide to Trail Running
 
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Day 7: My Sister

Posted on Nov 13, 2013

So grateful today for my sister, Kristy.  A wonderful woman, giving,caring, determined, thoughtful, smart, beautiful and  a wonderful Aunt to Eva.  She’s got a great future ahead of her.  Despite our 10 year age gap, she is a kind friend and I am so thankful for her.

 

 
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Day 5: pilates

Posted on Nov 6, 2013

This may be completely superficial, but so be it. I am a runner who only runs. Rarely strength trains or cross trains. But this is really bad. Now I have found pilates, which I love. I am getting strength back, building my core, repairing all the joints and finding flexibility. I am feeling so great. 2-3 times a week with a bit less running is proving to be the missing link for me! Thank you Pilates Studio of Reno!

 
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Day 4: mountains

Posted on Nov 4, 2013

Blessed to live in the mountains. Surrounded by the Sierras. Single track for miles. It feels like home.
Today Eva said, “Mommy, not everyone lives in the mountains.”
Truth. So happy that we do.

 
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Day 3: Children’s books and husbands who are tired

Posted on Nov 3, 2013

After a crazy productive day, that included a total purge of all the extraneous toys, meaningless junk in Eva’s room, we all looked pretty tired. Especially JB. After Javelina 100 last weekend, he’s been trying to log extra sleep to recover. So tonight JB was reading Eva a book before bed.
Basically he told her a large beer was chasing the fox with jiggly balls. Yep. I knew he was misreading the words and I laughed for a while.
Coherent book reading to children is overrated. Get your tired husband to do it and see what happens.

 
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Day Two, Being Thankful: Hope.

Posted on Nov 2, 2013

Today, JB, Eva and I spent much of the day together. I was working in Squaw Valley at a conference and brought the crew with me.  We all enjoyed a lazy Saturday (I only managed 5 quick miles after breakfast).  We walked through downtown Truckee and just did nothing.  But then just late this afternoon, Eva and I went to a bridal shower for my soon to be cousin’s fiance.   Watching her celebrate the beginnings of their life together. Saying out loud, her hopes, dreams, wishes for children, desires for travel and adventure brought me right back to the day all dreams begin. They begin with hope.  It also made me grateful for love, which is where all dreams of hope begin.

When you stop hoping, you stop loving. Don’t do that:)

November 2 2013: I am grateful for hope.  I am happy that the fire to hope is as bright as ever.

 
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November: A Call for Gratitude, Day One

Posted on Nov 1, 2013

So I had a revelation today.  I was out on my favorite 10 mile run with my dog, just enjoying big views and crisp air.  I crested the top of a climb and went on zooming down some fun downhill single track when Luna (the dog) must have spotted something tremendously exciting.  Instead of her usual up and around me technique, she swept my legs out from underneath me and left me hitting my right hip and face as hard as I can remember doing in quite a long time.  I came down on a rock  and thought I must have cracked my hip.  I sat crying for minute and then I yelled at Luna for being so crazy.  After I collected myself and got down the trail and ultimately home, albeit with a lot of walking and holding my breath.  I got the ice out and realized my hip is only badly bruised, not broken.  I am not broken.  It was merely an accident.  I should be grateful things are totally fine.  It then occurred to me that it felt really good to be thankful for what I did get to enjoy and for my own health.  An hour later and as I sat looking at my calendar, getting things figured out for work, etc., I realized Thanksgiving is only a few weeks away.  A day of being thankful.  I liked how resolution from my fall this morning came by being appreciative.  So dang simple.   Am I really just figuring this out?

So here’s what I am pledging to do.  I know lots of people have this practice in their own lives on a daily basis.  But I want to make it a focus of mine. I certainly am thankful for something everyday as well, but it’s usually not something I write down.  I don’t want to wait for Thanksgiving to express gratitude.  I’d like to spend each day this month writing down what I am grateful for.  Maybe it will be a run, or a friend or yummy food, but it will be written down and celebrated.

Join me and see what happens.

November 1st 2013: So grateful for my daughter and my husband.  I really can’t imagine life without them.  Thanks JB and Eva.  You are glorious human beings.

So blessed for these two

 
4

Run Rabbit Run 100, A Finish to Cherish

Posted on Sep 23, 2013

I didn’t want to get out of the warm sleeping bag.  The rain was sleeting on the windshield and the muted sounds of Roch and JB discussing my fate were only vaguely registering as the morning light filtered into the car.  I had been there, at mile 75, for a long, long time. I looked at my watch, trying to do the math. It took around 17 hours to run those 75 miles, but my Garmin was showing around 19.5 hours at this point.    The waves of nausea were seemingly less severe and the soreness from my destroyed quads were all I could feel anymore.  “Jen, suffering this much sucks, but not finishing is going to hurt more.” Roch said.  I could only nod, but I was certain a DNF in this case would be more than okay. I hadn’t had many calories since mile 50, puking the rest of my stomach’s contents right then and there, when I came in to get aid at 75. I felt a bit out of it no doubt. So, I put my head down to give in, to find a way out.  But something felt wrong about doing that.  Roch’s wisdom worked it’s way into me and I too, knew the sting of a DNF and the mental destruction it would create.  I sat back up.  Certainly, I had lost the race, but I hadn’t lost the finish.  Slowly I started to get my head around the idea of walking.  Walking all day long. “Okay,” I said, ” I don’t know how I’m going to do this,but I will.”  After doing some math, Roch figured I had nearly 10 hours to get the 29 miles done.  He told me it was only 25 miles at the time, as we all knew the course was long and I didn’t figure out that sneaky trick till much later.  I couldn’t run anymore- but I could shuffle and I could crawl and I could get there somehow.  After a few bites of bacon and some broth that stayed down finally, I began to get my head right.  I wiped my face off, put on my shoes again and JB and Roch pulled me out of the car into the rain.  Hello Jen, meet your soul.  You two will get real close today.

The next 7.5 miles were all uphill.  JB and Roch walked me up for a bit and got me smiling again, giving me those parting words I would chew on for the next 9.5 hours. “What else am I going to do today anyway,” I shouted out as I began to walk ahead.  Roch found a piece of course tape and put it in my pack and told me I owed him that at the finish.  I laughed and then cried a bit and then I was by myself again for another day in the Colorado mountains.

Time to reflect on what had happened today. A lot of time.  It was as simple as a stream of ups and downs but with no calories to make it all work.  I raced hard and was having a great time in the rain, the lightening storms, the falling over 3 ski jumps as I got lost at mile 41, the moving up to striking position when I was 7th, to cruising down glorious ridgeline singletrack, to singing “This heart of mine,” by the Wailin Jenny’s as loud as I could at night to scare off bears….  All of these, were piercing memories of a glorious day in the mountains.  Some of it running fast, some of it at a miserably slow pace.  But none of that really mattered. I was here and had a long way to go.  I was able to chat with the others left on the course, everyone able to smile and laugh and push through the pain.  I got to see panoramic views where it seemed heaven was crashing into the mountains with bursts of cloud and rain and peaks of sun.  I saw two elk running right towards me, just to head across the trail and out of sight at the last second.  I thought about my hip hurting, wanting to lay down and sleep, my daughter, my mother, and just about everyone else in my family.  I thought about my friends whose unborn child was about to be born.  I walked slow, but I walked lightly, enjoying the miles for what they were.  As I got to the last aid station with all of it being downhill and 6 miles to go, I watched others find their downhill legs and begin to run.  I tried to run, but realized I had just encountered the worst of the course as my quads couldn’t take the steep grade.  I wasn’t sure if I would make the cut off so I found this little shuffle that seemed to get me to a speedy 17 minute mile and worked hard to keep that going.  The very last steep downhill, which was on a grassy slope of the ski hill, I actually had to slide down on my behind to get down as I kept stumbling from my legs giving out.  It was time to be done.

And as I crested the last hill,almost 29:30 hours after I began, and limped it in to the finish (my right hip and SI joint couldn’t point forward any more), I felt tons of love from my fellow racers (many whom had slept and ate several meals by the time I came rolling in), my crew, my teammates, and my hubby.   No, I didn’t have the race I am capable of, but  I had the race I was supposed to that day.  Getting hugs, a buckle and a mug full of beer, I felt as good as my 100 mile win this year, no kidding.  Truly euphoric, completely destroyed, but my soul content with the honest effort.   I got to see and feel another dimension of this sport.  And though I have yet to nail that big stage 100 mile race, I added a much needed wheel in the cog.    Frankly, I am excited by the idea that my grit meter is working so well.  The speed is in there somewhere, but I need to be more patient.  Not so much racing, seasonal breaks, and putting some hay back in the barn.  I’ve been a bit threadbare for a while.

I am super impressed by my teammates! Congrats Jason Schlarb for a stellar time and win, and Karl Meltzer, who truly is a champion of this sport.

Thank you crew, Roch Horton and JB Benna.  Love you both.

Thank you Hoka One One, GU energy, Drymax socks, Vespa and PT lights.  A huge thank you to Coach Ian Torrence who is helping me go back to the drawing board.

Now its time for a break.  Not from running, from racing:)

 

 

 

 
4

End of Summer Update… burnout and rebound, crewing JMT FKT, prepping for RRR100.

Posted on Sep 11, 2013

“God has to nearly kill us sometimes, to teach us lessons.”
― John Muir

Its been since WS100 that I have been able to pen anything on this blog.  A very necessary break in letting things go and watching the course my mind and body wanted to take after a very challenging drop out at WS100.  I couldn’t sleep for almost 5 days after Western States- my body was in total disarray, not to mention the severe mental state I found myself in.  I followed up with my physician, also an endurance athlete, who informed me my kidneys, liver enzymes and sodium concentrations were in fact still stressed (meaning lab values were off but would return to normal given some more time). I just let things be for another week and then just as predicted, I started feeling much better.  Sleep is a huge factor.  I have talked about my struggles with it before, but to not have it as an essential element of repair when my body needed it most was and is most likely why I struggled for weeks post WS.   After I finally began sleeping again,  I found myself seeking some relief and answers on the trails as well and thought I could go run Tahoe Rim Trail 50k to test the waters.  The TRT feels like home.  I could and have run it in my sleep and thought of no better way to test my state that to go quietly give it a go.  Well, if it hadn’t been for the shear beauty that resides in those mountains, I would have called the whole thing off.  I began hurting at mile 6. Just core tired and lacking any power at my normal speeds.  I ran as best I could but decided early on, it was just me out there on a soul seeking mission, nothing else.  I finished second woman and felt a bit disappointed in my haste to run another race.  I hurt more than I should have and I went into a place that was eerily dark as my body felt more broken than before.

That smile

That’s when my newly appointed saint of a coach, Ian Torrence, said to pump the brakes.   He told me he didn’t advise me to continue pushing through this as I was walking on the edge of burnout or OTS (overtraining syndrome).  Take two weeks, he said, and just run when you feel like it, no major agenda.  And so I did exactly that.  Towards the end of those two weeks, JB, Eva and I were out on the JMT crewing and pacing Hal Koerner and Mike Wolfe as they broke the supported  JMT record.  Read Mike Wolfe’s report here.  So much of being by their side, watching the two of them push when they had nothing left, was some of the most inspiring moments of my life.  As Mike descended down into Yosemite valley, broken beyond anything reasonable, his shin and foot severely injured, I watched him push aside his own needs as he thought about his partnership with Hal.  Or when Hal was bleeding for hours, his nose not able to repair itself any longer, Hal didn’t complain or whine even when it would have been acceptable to do that. I was also inspired by my own daughter out there as she experienced the difficult hike up Taboose pass.  Eva was amazed by the big mountains around her, the simple streams and lakes, the new tastes of backpacker food and her mom and dad being right next to her for days on end. Her unfiltered optimistic ideas were the highlight of my own days out there.  She snuggled next to me in her sleeping bag as the temps dropped and ice formed on the grass around us.  No phone, no text, no computer and my undivided attention to be present in that moment with my family and friends, healed my mind and soul.

Hal in the final miles

As August moved along, so did my desire to get on with some training and out on the trails I went.  My body still protested a little and I found myself sore on runs beyond 2 hours, but my mind felt ready and healed to work through it.  As I ramped back up I focused on really good nutrition and I was sleeping like a baby (finally)!  I also started really taking care of myself after every single run- short or long.  I began foam rolling, sauna sessions, protein shakes, pilates, physical therapy and several weekly visits with my accupuncturist to move things in the right direction.  A flip switched and I felt that warm little sensation in my belly that indicated my health and my mind were right again.  The tale-tell sign- my eyelashes were growing again… the most odd indicator of my health, but true.  (It’s all about the sleep and human growth factor).

A trail date

A quick trip to Colorado a few weeks ago for a Trail Runner Magazine photo shoot and hanging around my teammate, Jason, and several amazing photographers and industry pros, was fun, fulfilling and a great reminder how amazing ultrarunning is. I found the stoke factor again.  Just in time.

My best girls

Now it’s off to Steamboat Springs, Co where I get to race Run Rabbit Run 100 on 9/13/13 where my bib number is #13…. go figure.  I don’t find myself completely superstitious, but my bib at Zion 100 was #13 as well.  I feel calm, ready for the adventure and in tune with my own body and mind. Roch Horton will be my keeper of Zen as my crewman and JB out there to film as always.   I have no idea what will happen of course, but I know I feel totally different than before Western States.  I believe in myself again and know this is just a race, nothing more, nothing less.  It will be hard, it will hurt but it will be joyous more than anything else.

Thank you Coach Ian Torrence for the wisdom and advice , Hoka One One for always supporting me underfoot and beyond,  Drymax socks for allowing me to keep pretty pink toenails, GU Energy labs (that new salted caramel is crazy good), and Vespa for the extra fat burning boost.

You can follow me live at http://www.ultralive.net/rrre100/webcast.php beginning Friday 9/13 at Noon MDT.

Wishing you all speedy, safe and joyous adventures this weekend.

 

 
9

50 Shades of Self-Sabotage and One Ugly Ponytail. My 2013 Western States 100 DNF.

Posted on Jul 8, 2013

True or False, I am a reasonably smart person. While yes, its true that I am a blonde, I did simultaneously get a B.S. in biology. And, despite my scientific mind, my common sense is really my strong suit. So it will be bewildering to all of you reading this, how I faltered in my race plan for Western States 100. I have been going over things in my head since I was able to regain a normal state of conciousness on Sunday post DNF status at Western States 100. I don’t feel sorry for myself or regret dropping out as it was really the only choice I had given the state my body was in by mile 78. Here’s a quick run down of my day.

Pre-Race: Early in my week, it seemed to be going well, I was zen, off of the internet, sleeping okay and feeling positive. Fast forward to midweek, my pacers and crew had arrived, my house was chaotic, I was in host mode and not taking care of my own mind or body. By Friday morning, I was exhausted and all the planning, splits, and organization and too much chatter about the day had worn me down. Fail.

Crew love

Race morning: woke up after about 3 restless hours of sleep. Damn it anyway, but I am the insomnia queen, so no worries. Ate breakfast of gluten free muffins and put my hair into haphazard ponytail that would annoy me all day long. Walked to the start feeling off. Couldn’t find pins for my bib, as they had run out. I ran around frantically looking for them. Brett Rivers saved me with giving me some. Weighed in 3 pounds over yesterday’s weight. Weird. Went to start line, put on my ipod. Ipod out of batteries.What? My sister ran her ass off and found my back up ipod- put it on, batteries out, despite them both being on chargers overnight. Got too worked up about that. Fail.

Race Start: Smooth actually, felt great to get this show on the road. Cruised up to the Escarpment at an easy pace, chatting with Meghan Arbogast, and finding myself behind Emily Harrison, who I instantly decided had the best hairdo out there with her neat braids and was then really bummed at my lame ponytail and hat combo. I was not living up to the #1 rule of the day: Keep it sexy. Kate Martini Freeman will tell you this is more important than any win. Hair Fail.

Red Star Ridge: Feeling okay, but had been struggling with my stupid shorts since mile 4 as they were literally falling off. I had, while on the run, taken one of my pins off my bib and put in on my jersey to hold my shorts up. I ended up rolling my shorts into the liner and forming a super ugly and ineffective pair of “buns.” I was apologizing to the men behind me who didn’t want to pass me as the chance for a full show was pretty high at that point. Found out I was 4 minutes outside of top 10 at aid station and couldn’t care less. Shorts Fail

Duncan Canyon: Saw my crew- dropped my hydration pack and picked up two handhelds and told them I needed a new skirt. The one I had a feeling I should have worn from the start. Got my newly charged ipod and was hoping for a turnaround. I was super annoyed at my choice to drop my pack as the handhelds were heavy. Plus I was still rolling my damn shorts up and felt like taking them off and running freaking naked. Hydration Fail.

Robinson Flat: felt like hell up the climb to the meadow, but overall just kept moving, and was evidently passing people despite my slow as shit pace. Heat wasn’t really an issue yet. Saw my crew- they gave me a skirt, thank the lord and I proceeded to change behind the restrooms where modesty was only sort of important. Got ice under my hat and left the aid station with a conehead hat and fresh bottles of Vitargo and water. Climbed to Little Bald and was hoping to wake up and get my ass in gear. Decided against it and only half put my self into gear. Too many fails there to qualify just one.

Dusty Corners: Ran there lackluster and just tired. Got my hydration pack there with Vitargo, drank coke and told my dad and sister I was trying to get going and turn it around, but to tell my mom not to bring Eva to Foresthill as I would be struggling today. The last thing I needed was my child to see me swearing my head off and looking weird. Something felt off but I was trying to get positive and settle into the day. Things always, always get better. At least they usually do. They totally will, I told myself.

About 30 minutes after leaving Dusty, I went to reach into my pack for salt and there was none. Alas, my former shorts pocket had all my salt and I had none. No problem, right. I am heat-acclimated baby. Ok I will get some at Last Chance, I reminded myself. Electrolyte fail.

Last Chance: ran in and out of the aid station like a damn idiot, only to get weighed where my weight seemed ok. In fact, this is only aid station where I was remotely close to the 124.5 pounds I had on my bracelet. I ate some fruit and left without salt. Into the canyons, without salt. Sweet. I also advocate fighting a fire without water. Eva was also born by immaculate conception. You get the point. I hope AJW nominates me for rookie of the year for this one. Quadruple idiot fail

Bottom of Swinging bridge: I jumped into the creek and sat there cooling my core off and feeling better. I was pissed off at my ponytail yet again- I now had dreadlocks. I began the climb to Devil’s thumb. I was drinking but my breathing was laborious and my legs were dead heavy. I saw my husband , who was filming my zombie march, where I told him my plight and he said all the women he was filming looked like hell and that I was only 15 minutes out of the top 10. I told him I couldn’t breath, didn’t have salt and hadn’t peed but maybe one time. He said, “yeah but your ponytail looks amazing.” Liar. Don’t panic, put it together and just get to Foresthill. I felt relieved to hear that it wasn’t just me struggling. In training, I had run from Last Chance to the top of Devil’s thumb in less than an hour. It took me almost an hour just from Swinging Bridge alone. Death march.

Devil’s Thumb: Weight up 5 pounds, feeling dizzy, but not worried, just tired. They gave me one lousy salt tab and that’s all they could spare with all the runner carnage. I filled my bottle and kept going. Ran with Scotty Mills, my optimistic angel on the trail. About 20 minutes after the salt tab,I started feeling better. But I still had no salt on me. I was not sweating very much either. We ran to the bottom of El Dorado and I saw Joelle Vaught in a chair. She looked cute, another successful hair day, but not happy. I said hello and proceeded to climb down to get in yet another creek. The volunteers kept watching me to make sure I didn’t drown- probably a good call as I couldn’t walk a straight line in the aid station. They also offered to give me a blood alchohol test right then and there. I denied I was drunk. I grabbed a salt cap and began the climb up to Michigan Bluff.

I ran when someone was looking or really actually shuffled with Joelle the last half mile where we laughed about our sad state of affairs. Got into Michigan where I just couldn’t figure out what my problem was. Weight was now up 7 pounds and the medical asked me to sit. I said no, and explained that I was super puffy, swollen, I must have a salt issue. So I drank some Odwalla and grabbed yet more water and kept going to FH. See, my science degree is really working for me here. With the intelligence of a doctor, I said no to the salt since my weight was up and I was dizzy. Or did I need more salt, I dont have enough brain function in this heat to figure it out. Oh well I just totally redeemed myself.

Finally, somewhere in there I got some energy back. I was motivated to turn the day around and couldn’t wait to get my pacer.

Right before Bath Road, I took an advil, to ease my aches and give me a way to rally down Cal Street. That’s right, a B.S. in biology. Microbiology. I saw Jimmy Dean who gave me a pep talk and then guess what, I found my smile. I was happy to have made it and somehow was holding steady in the field. I still didn’t feel great. My feet were swelling in my shoes, I now had cankles and bad hair and the dizziness I kept attributing to a hot day. I got to Foresthill at mile 62, where my weight was up now to 8 pounds. I ate watermelon and changed my socks. I was super quick in and out. In hindsight, I wish I would have listened and taken the 5-10 minutes to talk to medical, sit and find out why I was feeling so off. Someone should have slapped me right then and there. But no, I am stubborn. Listening Fail

Cal Street: JDF and I took off like idiots running a 5k. I was motivated to race, obviously having lost my mind somewhere around Deadwood as the pace were running was too fast. I didn’t temper my pace despite all systems telling me something was wrong. JDF asked if I had peed lately and I said no. I thought about that and realized I hadn’t gone for a few hours at least. Having finally gotten salt from my crew, he told me to start taking an S cap every 15 minutes to see I could catch up. We got into the backside of the Cal and it started cooling off, only prompting me to run harder.

We were passing people and in hunting mode, despite the fact we had 35 miles to go. No, this was not my first hundred mile run. But my god, it sure felt like it. Race Strategy fail

Finally we passed a very slow train of ladies and their pacers putting me into F11 status, leaving Cal 1. Only prompting me to take another advil and push harder. Finally we got to Cal2, where I re-fueled for a second and then took off again about a mile down the trail where I was dizzy as could be, an acute headache now pounding my temples and I stopped to make myself urinate. I noticed pretty quickly the color and distinct look of my urine- as peeing blood has never happened to me before. Body fail.

Well fabulous. JDF talked me through how it was likely not a big deal, etc., etc.. But I was concerned and things were way off for me well before that. We did the walk of shame back up the hill a mile to Cal 2.

Cal 2, take 2: They informed me to sit and hydrate. I did as instructed and my legs seized up sitting in the chair. We left Cal 2 and tried to run again, but the onset of the Elevator shaft shuffle commenced. All the gals I just passed, passed me back and I couldn’t care less. Competition fail.

I don’t remember much after we got to Cal 3. I know that Jimmy Dean was telling me stories about naked trysts in college, though that might be a hallucination, and as we neared the river I just wanted to lie down on the trail and sleep. It wasn’t pretty and very unlike anything I have experienced in 100 milers. I am always cognitive and mentally together even if I hurt. I almost always finish and choose to do so even when a win or podium or top ten is out of the question. The finish is worth it. But in this case, I couldn’t move past Rucky Chucky. Brain fail

Rucky Chucky: Drop. Bracelet cut. Medical evaluation and recommendation to get renal panel drawn. Deliberation about hyponatremia. Biology degree revoked. WS100 Fail

Aftermath: Feeling much much better. Yearning to find another race to suit my fitness and desire to execute well. Some possibilites include races close by or international. I have no idea yet, but I know I made too many mistakes in Western to let it go. You always learn when you run these things. I would do so much differently next WS. But that’s why we run 100’s. If they were all predictable, there would be no adventure. Sometimes we win and sometimes we fail, but we as long as we can get back out there, its all worth it.

Recovery

 

 
5

Final Prep for Western States 100: Going off the grid!

Posted on Jun 17, 2013

The miles have been run.  The training is more or less done.  With only 12 days to go to Western States 100, I find myself getting nervous, excited and aching to experience the unique journey of this race.  But given my experience last year, of getting sick in the final days before Western, I have one very different preparation step in mind this time.

Last year, I let the Western States media hype devour me whole.  I read all the blogs, posts, twitter, and other social media predictions, contests and commentary.  Mostly, because I am as much a fan of the sport as I am a competitor in the sport.  But it did nothing for me other than make me more nervous or worry or upset, leading to less sleep and ultimately a breakdown in my immune system.  If I ever got another chance to run Western, that was the one thing I would change.  Well, by some awesome luck and a chance at a do over, I will make the choice to go off the radar. My goal is getting to the start line healthy, rested and peaceful.  The three most important ingredients I need for a good 100 mile run.

And so, from here until after Western States, I won’t be on Facebook, blogs, websites or the like to see what other’s think about the race.  I love those sites, but will have fun looking at that AFTER the race has been run.  I am going off the grid and just going to enjoy my family, my garden, short shake out runs with my dog, and eating really clean and resting really deep.

I think I am fit and ready to go.  After a long training session on the course itself, I made peace with the historic trail and asked it to take care of me during the race, to let me run quickly, safely and with all my heart.   And so, that is my only real race plan- run hard, run smart, respect what the course and day gives me and to smile of course.

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