Posted on Dec 6, 2012
” I feel awful. No, Joe, you don’t understand.” Even though I knew he did understand, having finished the Wasatch 100 the prior year. “This doesn’t seem right, I’m hurting too much. I will never, ever do this again.” I said in between coughing fits as my pacer Joe Lane and I trudged down the last few dusty miles of the 2008 Tahoe Rim Trail 100. Joe had hiked thousands of miles with JB on the PCT and was tough as nails. An ultrarunner, climber, mountain man. I was falling apart before his eyes. I was so raw, that I was almost embarassed at my state. It wasn’t pretty. But there he was along side me, not judging me. He graciously volunteered to pace me on the second 50 of my first 100. Despite me vocalizing my own pity party and self loathing state, Joe wasn’t having a word of it. I wanted to quit. He wanted me to watch the sun rise. I wanted to vomit, he insisted I try some ginger. I was hallucinating that trees were in fact, the legs of giant deer. I could go on and on. The point being, I went to places I never knew existed inside my head. But I also got out of them and kept putting one foot in front of the other. I told Joe he was like my trail angel that day. When I insisted I couldn’t do this again, he said, “No way, Jen! You are going to be back for this I promise.” “I can assure you Joe, I won’t.” was the last thing I remembered saying as we rounded the corner into Spooner Lake. But as time would tell, Joe being the wiser of the two, knew the magic of 100 mile runs gets in your blood.
And so it began. Of Loving so deeply the run and hating so briefly the pain. Of Training and racing and recovering and repeating . Sometimes even smiling through the suffering, if just to minimize a tough day out there. Let’s just say you have been warned. You might get addicted. You, too, are opening pandora’s box. No cure for this disease, so proceed cautiously.
I was always told I was not an ultrarunner until I ran 100 miles. Now, I am not sure I agree about that. Each distance is special in its own right. But nonetheless, a 100 mile run is indeed a journey. I don’t think there is anything particularly healthy about running 100 miles. But, something quite strange happens the absolute second my feet cross the finish line. I forget about any pain I was just in moments before. My heart, my breath, my mind all sync up and I can begin to revel in the mystique of the distance, the glow that seems to envelope my being, the pure animal instinct of running. A sense of competition, of chasing, hunting, of surviving. You, in essence, strip away life’s nonsense one mile at a time. You see mountains, water, food for what it is. For those hours on the trail, you are, you purified.
In a pragmatic sort of way, I have yet to nail a 100 mile race. I am a totally different runner at mile 90 than I am at mile 65. I don’t call myself an experienced 100 mile runner yet. I think in maybe a few more races I might understand how to smile more at the end of the race and to keep the fight alive in my head when all body systems are red lighting. So maybe that’s what keeps me coming back. I want to have that one race where I figure it out, keep the suffering to a minimum and say out loud, to those around me at mile 99, “I can’t wait to do this again.”
Though I, like, so many other ultrarunners are complex people with careers, children, and responsibilities, I find the community that surrounds the 100 mile distance as a big part of how I define myself, my life. So many occasions, friendships and life events are marked around a race. I think back and can remember how I marked the 7th month of pregnancy with Eva, by crewing at Western States in 2010. Or, how in 2009 I celebrated my 30th birthday by running Cascade Crest 100 in Washington, complete with birthday cake on the trail. Even months later, I still feel a strong sadness that comes from having to DNF Western States this year due to a myriad of illness, both my daughter’s and my own. 100 miles seems to symbolize a full cycle of life. One that we hope to live out in about a day or less.
In the end, and perhaps without so many words, running 100 miles is something you can’t really ever describe. But you can get out there and experience it for yourself.
The other synchro-blog links. Such great perspectives:
Jimmy Dean Freeman
Amy Sproston
Katie DeSplinter
Dominic Grossman
2008 Tahoe Rim, Mile 75. A nosebleed for 15 miles.
Posted on Nov 28, 2012
Well sometimes you have to just say no. No to racing, not running per se. After a mental blowup at a simple training run- the Mt. Tam 50k a few weeks ago. (Which by the way, is one of the Inside Trail series ultras- and such a wonderfully organized event. I will do more of them and so should you). About 10 miles into the run, the left hamstring I have been babying lately just kinda decided enough was enough. That’s about when my mind agreed and thus an unusual event occurred. I let myself just coast into the finish early, happy to be off the trails and call it a 30k day. I didn’t fight it, nor was upset about a shorter distance. After lining up for over 7 competitive races this year, I was a bit burnt out. That’s it. That and the hamstring did not help at all. I have been chilling (only 40 miles a week) for the past 3 weeks to rest up as I get ready to enter peak training for Bandera 100k in January.
So, no racing The North Face Endurance Championship on Saturday. Even better though, I get to pace my good friend Krissy Moehl on her last race of 2012- a stellar year for her as always. We vow to have the biggest smiles come rain or mud. We are going to run hard, have fun and chick some boys. I am looking forward to it.
Here we go girl!
Posted on Nov 12, 2012
I have sat on this race report long enough. Mulled through my mistakes and celebrated my little victories.  When you race, anything can happen. And after running ultras for a while now, I still learn so much after every run.  You have to be able to start an ultra knowing a hundred factors can come into play, including wrong turns, and in the end and at the finish line you must ask yourself, “Did I give everything I could?”  If the answer is “Yes,” well then you can go to sleep with a peaceful mind and heart. The night after Pine to Palm, I slept great.
Ashland holds a sweet little nest of amazing runners and good friends. Hal and Carly have been a special part of our lives and family for quite some time now.   Running P2P was a great excuse to get to see some familiar faces.   In fact, many of the Ashland crew I would call up to ask advice, travel with, go for a run with and even, in a pinch, watch Eva.  Except Jenn. Yes, I would definitely never, ever trust Jenn Shelton to watch my child.  She’d probably read her passages out of some crappy Jennifer Weiner novel and let her drink expired milk.   Likewise, I knew racing with Jenn would also prove that you should never trust a word that comes out of that woman’s mouth, especially during a race.  She lies. A lot.
Not to go off on a tangent, so stay with me here, but a recent article on Irunfar.com, made me think a lot about runners who are mothers vs. non-mothers and the lifestyles of each. Having run ultras now for about 9 years, I can say that I have been on both sides of life.  There is quite a dramatic difference.   A quote from Jerry McQuire, said , “It’s an up at dawn, pride-swallowing seige, that I will never fully tell you about.” But I will tell you this, it takes a lot of people who you beg, pay, and borrow from to do what we, mothers who run ultras, do.  I have my mother, father, husband, in-laws, nanny, etc. who might all be needed to let me go run a race, train, work, train some more. I could not be out there doing what I do, without a lot of support and for that, I just want to thank those aforementioned heros in my life.  So to show up at that start line to run 100 miles,  one must really have to want to be there with all their heart and with an equal amount of peace knowing your child will be fine and happy for the time you are out there on the trails.
Anyway, back to the race. I woke up with a sore throat and am pretty convinced that I am now fully pyschosomatic for 100 milers. Why and how does this sickness just show up. Its garbage. I won’t let it bother me today. I was ready to run. Up and away we went on a first climb of just over 4000ft in the first 7 or 8 miles.  And then came running up, making some racket about how her handler (Mr. Skaggs) didn’t wake her in time, my buddy, Jenn Shelton.  I wanted to feel sorry for her 2 minute late start, but since I was up most of the night dealing with my child and sore throat, I saved her any such declarations and instead told her to hurry her ass up as I was waiting to run with her. I knew she would take it out hard, as is her self proclaimed blow it up style. So after we caught up on life and I wanted to take the first hill slow, I let her sling shot ahead, most certain I would see her later down the trail.
I did, however, tuck in behind or just ahead of, Pine to Palm veteran and friend, Shahid Ali. He is like running with an audible topo map. He knew all the ins and outs of the course and told me to take it slow up the hill. We were both shooting for 22 hours and so I was happy with the pace.  We crested the hill and began the downhill to mile 15 where Hal told me to hurry it up.
Heading up Stein Butte
The next 14 miles were mostly rolling dirt roads where time could certainly be made up, but I just plugged into a comfy pace and tried to stay consistant. Flat stuff isn’t really my strength, and had I studied the course a bit more, I would have learned that while the hills and climbs were beefy, the flat and runnable sections of the course were the ones that would kill me in the end.
A raw and pure source of energy for me during a run is to feel the love and encouragement of my crew, my friends and family. So not only did I get to look forward to seeing my dad and husband, but I could have friends like Scott and Jenny Jurek at aid stations to give me a hug, fill my bottle and keep the smiles rolling. They were out to help and encourage the runners along the course and their presence was so amazing.
Rolling into the 30 mile aid station I was able to see my crew and get everything I needed to keep going. Including updates on whether my daughter was still constipated or not. Good news, she was not. Okay, awesome. Now that I had that piece of info, I was ready to go attack the next big climb in 92 degree heat. The rising temps were felt, but really didn’t bother me much. I had decided the weight of a hydration pack was worth having the access to lots of fluids and so the climb up to Stein Butte in the exposed sun didn’t really phase me much. Getting to the top and the aid station I discovered Jenn was only around the next turn. I took my time and soon enough caught up to Jenn, who was not feeling so great in the heat.  With only one hand runner, it was obvious she was hurting a little. Shahid, Jenn and I ran together for a bit and just kept it mellow and light. Jenn puked a few times, but didn’t seem to mind much. I was feeling good and decided to just go ahead, certain that it would only mean a lead of a few minutes at very most. I got down to the40 mile aid where I found my dad and hubby ready to give me some ice and hugs and more GU. At that point, it was going to be me against myself. There was some word that perhaps Jenn had dropped back at the lake. She had tried to convince me that indeed she would likely drop. Again, this woman can lie from time to time.  I actually hoped she stayed in, to make it a race most certainly.  The heat was not relenting and the trails were not forgiving. Lots and lots of climbing to do to continue. I ran hard but conciously held back.  I was returning to the out and back aid about mile 52 where Skaggs was manning the aid station as I ran into Jenn right there and could figure I had gained about a 30 minute lead at that point. The next 8-10 miles were going to be uphill but certainly runnable. Shahid and I talked about taking them slow as you could wind up paying the piper handily for reckless abandon . At times I was okay with going slow and staying with Shahid, but I also felt like I wasn’t pushing enough to maintain my lead. It didn’t totally jive with me, but I trusted I should hold back.
Here’s where I will skip ahead to mile 65. I found myself going through a mental checklist of things to accompish at the aid station. I didn’t want to waste a minute.  Here’s where I realized the race had began. Jenn was confirmed to be only 5 minutes back. JB began to pace me there and we wasted no time getting back out there . It was a rolly, undulating next 9 miles on the PCT. JB has hiked the PCT. I have the best pacer ever I was convinced. At that point, there was no sign of Jenn- we were hammering. But about 1 mile out from what we thought should be an aid station, there were a few road/trail crossings that we paused at for a few seconds, unsure where the aid might be. We finally came to a very obvious crossing where we couldn’t see any visible marking on the other side and thought it a pretty good chance the aid was just below down the road a bit. We made a right hand turn and just kept looking for a sign that we were close. About 5 minutes down the road, nothing. We stopped looked around. I felt frantic not sure we were in the right spot. We decided to come back up the hill and go up some more. Nothing. We went back down and found the trail and kept going. Nothing. But the obvious thing was to keep going on the trail. About 1/2 mile ahead, low and behold the aid station lights came into view. Awesome. Certainly some wasted time, but I was sure we hadn’t lost more than 10 minutes max. I thought I had made time on Jenn on the PCT. Wrong. She had gone through the aid about 5 minutes ahead of me. In fact, the aid station volunteers called Hal to tell him I was lost. He was on his way up to look for us. Shit.
Nope I explained. We found our way, but indeed I was lost. Lost in my own mind I guess you could say. Frustrated I let it happen but determined to catch up. We rolled along looking for signs of other runners ahead. A doubletrack road that was flatish was next on the menu to lead us to the final singletrack trails and big climb to Wagner peak. As we ran along, it was quiet and cold. JB and I were doing okay and I was trying to get back into it mentally.  Closing in again on an aid station, we were using our lights to double check flags and chalk marks. We saw left handed chalked arrows and green flagging leading us down a dirt road and made the turn. We headed downhill for about 6ish minutes until we saw no more flags and just felt like it was wrong. We stopped and talked about how it was chalked with an arrow and green flag. JB said, that prior none of the flagging was green and he thought our direction was off. What? I hadn’t paid close enough attention.  Back up the hill we went and then left to get back to the road to see if we went straight for some time what would happen. At this point, I was pretty down. How could that turn be flagged and chalked? Well, turns out a mountain bike race occured that day unbenounced to Hal and of course, we found that flag and trusted it. No fault, it just happens. My race somehow got away from me there. And to that, I am grateful. Not happy that I lost my way or my edge, but glad I could follow my mind to such a dark place and come back to learn some lessons. I have work to do in those last miles of a 100. The miles that make or break you. I now know how to handle this situation and will grow from it, no doubt.
Fast forward to the finish. I ran my race and scampered into the finish pretty wasted. My dad was there to hug me and take me to the hotel where my baby girl lie in bed no clue her mommy just put in a hard day. Her big blue eyes and tight hug made up for all my shortcomings that day. It was a great race and I loved being part of it. To date it has been the most challenging 100 mile race I have ever run. The difficulty of this course is rediculous. I would say there are only a few courses more difficult than this one- but my goodness, don’t understimate Pine to Palm.
photo by Chris Jones
Race kit: Hoka one one Bondi speeds, Hoka one one Stinson Evo’s. Drymax short crew trail sock. Moeben skirt and sleeves and lululemon bra and tank. GU roctane, vanilla and peanut butter gels and GU brew all day. Succeed caps one per hour every hour. Vespa junior every 4 hours and sometimes before. I drank an Odwalla superfood at mile 40 and it was a huge boost. I also ate bananas and soup. Otherwise no solids.
Posted on Sep 14, 2012
A good adventure seems to always begin with a change in plans. Change is the only real constant in my life, it seems. How you deal with those changes can define your sucess and your happiness as a runner and as a person. So an email from Craig Thornley, RD of Waldo, stating a forest fire was threatening the closure of the course, should have come as no suprise only days before the race. But, like a true pro, he and co-RD Meghan Arboghast, handled the course change, re-routed, re-marked and reassured us runners. A tough 62 mile run would now be a tough 66 mile run. And that’s just the beginning.
With two Western States spots up for grabs and at least 5 women running who could run strong enough to grab them, this was going to be a battle for certain. Having just run Speedgoat 50K, three weeks prior, with a 7th place finish (only a few minutes separating me and the two ladies ahead of me- one of them being Denise Bourassa, also running for the top two at Waldo) it was going to be whoever had a better day and who’s legs were better trained and recovered. The untouchable in this race was certain to be Joelle Vaught- who is certainly a 50Mile and 100k specialist. I tend to like longer races, so the extra distance added to Waldo was certain to benefit me.
After attempting a fitfull night of sleep in a double bed (but I doubt it was that big) with both my daughter and my husband, the morning finally came. But rested I was not. I have to admit, my major achilles heel in ultrarunning motherhood has been my ability to recover due to lack of sleep. After Speedgoat 50K, I did what I could to recover and to get in a bit more training, but dealt with dead legs and very painful hamstrings. I haven’t had any time to hit the Bikram yoga that prior had been my saving grace and quite possibly the best recovery tool I have found.
As we started up the first hill, the air was mild, even warm, and headlamps were blazing every footstep. I found my place behind Denise for a bit and then she pulled away and up the hill at a quicker pace than what I thought was right for me. Again, I struggle to run hard in the beginning of the race, possibly conserving too much for the second half. I’ve yet to have the perfect race, so who knows. When I do, I’ll be sure to let you know what the right mix is.
As we all found ourselves on beautiful singletrack, the sky gave away to a light mist and cooler temps. After being in constant 95 degree heat all summer, this was more than welcome. The glorious weather stayed cool most of the day and helped with areas where direct sun exposure was sure to be more of a factor. I found myself in 4th place and stayed that way most of the day with a little back and forth with Kathleen Egan.
Miles 0-40 are like trying to recall what I ate for dinner last week. I know I enjoyed them, I know I took in the scenery and loved the aid stations. I know I was happy and having fun, but my lack of sleep and foggy start just took a while to burn off. Like 8 hours of running while asleep. This was not what I had planned of course, but change is part of every single ultra I run and just dealing with each moment is about all you can do.
I finally got peppy. Maybe the Roctane kicked in. Maybe I could smell the barn. I don’t know what happened but I kicked my own ass into gear. I was much farther back than I had anticipated and just kept trying to get my legs to turn over despite my hamstrings yelling at me from 12 miles on. I was however, having a blast. I stopped worrying about where I was as I knew this just wasn’t going to be my meal ticket to Western States. Not this day. So as I picked up JB to pace and film around mile 45, I just enjoyed his company and loved singing at the top of my lungs to my ipod. He told me I should never, ever consider singing as a profession, but nonetheless, we shared stories, I cried on the last climb as I missed my daughter and my tiredness ovewhelmed me. I was gaining on Alison Bryant who was 3rd and thought perhaps I would catch her to make the podium spot. But as strong as I was running, I didn’t have enough real estate left.
JB and I rounded the last few turns into a long straightaway that folded right into the ski resort where I crossed the line in 12:01, 4th woman and 12th overall. Joelle and Denise had a great day and took the top two spots- great job ladies! Good friend and new daddy, Timmy Olson ran hard and cameback amongst a strong and deep men’s field to take the win and some diaper money!
The glorious views, big trees set amongst perfect singletrack, an excellent finish line BBQ and just amazing volunteers and staff, you better believe I will definitely be back.
Race Kit: Lululemon shorts and tank, Drymax 1/4 crew trail socks (my new favorite from Drymax), GU brew in my handheld all day and GU roctane or GU peanut butter every 30 minutes, Succeed caps every hour, Vespa every two hours, Nathan small racing hydration pack.
Posted on Aug 1, 2012
Atop Mt. Baldy
Breathe, just breathe. Oh yes, you are well, you are running, you are smelling wildflowers and you are climbing up to the top of mountains where surely God himself must live.  In all my running career, I’ve never been so bewildered by the beauty and difficulty of an ultramarathon. Yet I couldn’t stop smiling and I didn’t even suffer much at all. I clearly wasn’t running hard enough but made that choice early on. It was time to have a fun, fun day in the mountains.
I have realized that having a toddler or young child means you are at best a wildcard at most ultras. Sickness, sleep, stress, too many renditions of Itsy Bitsy Spider and things can go awry. So to show up in half decent shape, without puking or a fever, with a sorta decent night of sleep and not forgetting your running shoes is about as good as its gonna get. I might as well try to go win this thing, right?  Okay maybe not, Anna Frost and Bethany Lewis are just plain fast and after we exchanged a few hugs I bid them well as I decided anything top ten in this field would be good.
The field sailed forward once Karl said “Go!” I picked a pace that wasn’t crazy, but wasn’t slow and decided to just stay consistant on the first climb to allow for the reserves in my legs to be there for the second half of the race. I hate being passed and love picking up the pace towards the end if the body will allow it. The other thing I know is that 50K is just too short for me in most cases. I have a hard time pacing myself to go faster, harder on the shorter stuff.  Obviously someone needs to do more speedwork in training.
So up we went and by the ponytail count in front of me, I was running in about 6th or 7th place by the time I could see the switchbacks headed up the tram at mile 8ish. My garmin and ipod died at the same time right around that first aid station and so I was sans-electronics the rest of the day and had no idea where I was. I am blaming the ipod shuffle loss on at least two places (determined by less than 2 minutes, which obviously if I had listened to my sweet mix, would have easily made up for the motivation needed to pick off those spots).  I gave a little a shout of praise, some might call a war cry,  to the magnificant aid station set up at the top of the tram. I saw JB and fellow cameraman Blaine who were like kids in a candy store filming some of the best mountain runners on Earth. I might qualify as a great mountain runner in my neighborhood.
I took a big look at the descent in store and sped down the groomed fire road towards the singletrack and down and down and down we went. Some of it quite technical, very loose rocks, but wildflowers everywhere and a glistening creek in the background. I hit Mile 15.5 and the out and back where I could see I was about 18 minutes from the lead pack of ladies- Kerrie Bruxvoort just ahead of Bethany Lewis and Anna quite a bit ahead of them.  Then 2 other ladies who I knew were locals, with immense course knowlegde and looking strong. I rolled into Roch Horton’s aid station where he showered me with smiles, ice cold sponges, popsicles, orange slices and lots of good energy. I ran into Denise Bourassa here where she and I chatted for a minute and decided this run was indeed good training for Waldo 100K.  I left the aid chased by Denise who eventually passed me on the massive climb out. All we did was climb, hike, run for 30 seconds, hike some more. Over 2500 feet in a few miles and then we crested a false saddle where I saw a pipe running with water.  It was a gift from the mountain gods and I filled my dry as a bone bottle a few times.  I was revived but looked up to find that Karl was sending us up a hands-on-knees, stumbling over rocks vertical field, followed by a steep decent back into Larry’s Hole. It was getting hot and the climbing was no where near done.
Headed home
I saw Bethany here who had dropped and she wished me well. I was only 2 minutes back on Denise and she and I both got passed here by a fresh looking girl that came out of nowhere. Freaking awesome I thought. Just when I thought the tough climb might be over, we saw the final push to Mt. Baldy- a truly vertical scree field where no trail existed- just flags to the peak where runners were doubled over spent from the effort to get up that mountain. I got to the top and had to dump dirt from my shoes, chatted with JB who told me I was still 2 minutes back from Denise and 20 minutes from the podium. I knew the podium was a done deal but set my sights on trying to catch the speedy girl in front of me.  I set off first to descend 1500 feet then to climb up Peruvian Ridge back to the tram. Here we go again,  another solid climb, and any sort of stumble could risk a nice little fall down the side of the mountain.  Don’t fall and just get up to the tram. I did, and drained yet another Vespa- probably the 4th of the day and refilled my bottle anxious to chase Denise down. She and I were hauling and she was in my sights the entire downhill.
We ended up about 1:30 minutes apart at the end as our legs were moving about the same pace on that 5.5 mile decent. We probably covered that section in about 35 minutes or so. She ended up passing the 5th place girl in the last 10 seconds!! I came in just afterwards, good enough for 7th- 7:34. I was happy enough with the day and just enjoyed every minute out there.
Karl put on an exceptional, world class race. The volunteers were awesome and the course is just stunning.
Race kit: Lululemon shorts, sports bra and tank. Drymax socks- hot weather trail sock (no blisters of course), Montrail Bajada’s which handled everything this course threw at me, GU Brew, GU gels and 4 Vespa’s spaced every 1.5 hours.
Posted on Jun 26, 2012
“A Heart at Peace gives life to the body,” Proverbs 14:30
This certainly will not be a pity party post, mostly because I cannot indulge in that for a second longer. Have I been more excited for a race ever? No. Did I wait more than 7 years to get in? Yes. Did I have maybe the worse weekend of my life? Probably.  But, in all reality, I sit here today with a little girl who finally is starting to feel better, who somehow did not end up in the hospital and me with this illness responding to the last few days of rest. So, though it was rough and though I watched a dream come to an end, I know the right decision was made, hands down, no questions. But gosh, I had a pretty cute outfit on for WS, darn it. So, what the hell happened you ask…
Well, let me back up a second. Since December 2011, all my attention has been paid to running Western States. JB and I love this race so much. I have spectated, crewed, paced, filmed, and of course we made a movie about it! So to run in Western states with the most competitve female field ever was beyond exciting.  Heading into my taper I felt my fitness was spot on, my training since Miwok 100k was the best I could hope for. But my life and the stress and demands took its toll way more than I could have ever expected. It all started when Eva decided about two weeks ago she was done with her crib and took it upon herself to climb out of it every night, beginning a chain of insomnia for our entire household. Sleep patterns were becoming wrecked and if I got 3-4 hours a night that was considered pretty good.  So much for the taper rest!  I can recall about 6 nights in the last 3 weeks of absolutely never even falling asleep. Little by little, my overall health was detiorating. I felt sore on little 5 and 10 milers on what was the middle of my taper and couldn’t figure it out. I almost fainted in Bikram yoga the Sunday morning leading into race week and I knew something was way off.Â
Race week  Monday, Eva began pre-school for the first time. (Why I agreed to that, I have no idea) Just three days a week to get her some fun social time with kids her age. Little did I know her pristine immune system was the perfect incubator to harbor a nasty little bug called Hand Foot Mouth Disease. Yep, its as bad as it sounds. A 104-105 fever for 4 days, vomitting, sores inside her mouth, diaper area and feet/hands. She couldn’t eat, drink and would cry for hours as these sores are super painful.  Many kids end up in the hosptial on I.V fluids because they become so severely dehydrated. We didn’t know she had this until Sunday morning after the doctor confirmed it. We thought maybe it was a horrible flu. JB and I had planned on staying at Donner Lake to get some rest and instead JB rushed home at 3:00am on Friday morning as I got a phone call from our nanny that Eva was vomitting with a high fever. JB insisted he take Eva to the doctor and that  I  go weigh-in and see how I was feeling.  Aside from the panic in my heart for Eva, I too, was achy, feverish and had some major lung and throat issues. My pacer, Jimmy Dean Freeman, gave me a shot of Whiskey that morning to try to kill the germs. I knew it couldn’t hurt, but could it help?  I weighed in, chatted with a few friends and Jimmy Dean rushed me home to Reno to be with my baby girl. She was hot to the touch, I tried to soothe her, but she was not doing well. I was also feeling worse and worse as the day continued, but I tried to not let it consume me. Â
That evening my mom insisted she would take great care of Eva and that I had worked too hard to not to give Western States a shot. My dad was my crew captain and Carly Koerner, my other pacer. All of these wonderful people giving up their weekend to help me.  I tried to eat some soup and go to bed early, but it took 2 ambien to get my mind to shut down and not think about Eva. I woke up about 2:00am on Saturday morning crying because my throat and lungs were so bad.  JB’s eyes showed me a little panic for the situation that was among us.  I insisted I give it a go, just to see if I felt better.
Walking to the start line, I already knew it was bad. I was aloof about the whole thing. Certainly not the excitement I wanted to feel. I knew the day and the weather weren’t going to get better for me, but damn it, I was going to try. 5:00am came and off we began running into the morning darkness. It was freezing, windy, hailing, raining, and sleeting .  Suprisingly,  I maintained a comfortable pace as though I was going to make my sub-20 hour splits and found myself in the mix with my fellow ladies when around mile 7, my lungs couldn’t take in enough air. They felt like they were closing and my legs, head and back ached. I actually couldn’t even focus my vision on the trail. My heart ached for my baby and my own body wasn’t going to be able to get through the journey that 100 miles demands. I have too much respect for that distance to know what it takes to make it. I wasn’ t even 50% that day. I knew a top 10 spot at Western States wouldn’t be easy on a good day, let alone in my condition.
I saw JB at Red Star Ridge at mile 16 and he knew I was done too. After a bit of denial, the tears began flowing as I stood there in the rain as the medical personnel listened to my lungs and confirmed I was in no shape to continue. I watched them cut my bracelet and I panicked wondering if I could tape it back together and just keep going.  I simply couldn’t believe this was happening to me.   As every ultrarunner knows, there is a ton of work that happens to get to the starting line. The hours we spend running and training, the demands we put on our families, the stress we put on ourselves to compete at a high level.  I mean, I had thought about this day for 7 years.
It’s not all for not. There’s always something else meant to happen along the path. To learn to be here now. To try to relax and let life come back to you. I think the most amazing part of all of this is how absolutely sincere and kind the ultrarunning community is. Even while Ellie was out there setting a course record, she would ask about how I was doing when she saw JB. Or all the texts and Facebook messages I have received giving me encouragement to get better and go find another race. Thank you. Sincerely, Thank you. And to my own parents: thank you- you got us through the most difficult weekend since beginning our own journey as parents.
Western States 100 will be waiting for me to return. I certainly know my time will come to run it again.  Congratulations to Timmy Olson and Ellie Greenwood and to all my wonderful friends and the rock star moms who went out there and ran a great race.  And to those who didn’ t make it, you deserve a big congrats for just getting there. Sometimes your day isn’t what you planned for and that’s part of what ultrarunners are known to overcome. There’s another race. I will let you know when I find it.
Posted on May 30, 2012
The supermoon rose over the Bolinas Bay and I felt my breath began to reach a steady rythym as we rose up and out of Stinson Beach about 1800 feet. I laughed, I cursed, I stumbled, I sailed. All before hitting Bolinas Ridge.  As an indicator of what the day might feel like, I could tell this one was going to take me to the depths of what I could handle, what I would want or not want in my running, wht my body was trained or not trained to do.Â
My plan was to run hard, to see what systems were firing correctly in my body and to try to find patience throughout the day.  Though the men’s field wasn’t altogether as competitive as year’s past, the women’s field seemed to hold a pretty good entrant list and I knew it would be a great way to test myself. Besides the usual competitive fire in me, I felt a little nervous that training weeks leading up to this race never went above 60 miles per week and with work travel thrown in, some weeks were pretty dismal in terms of quality runs. But nevermind that, right. I would run this race with my heart and my head and hope my legs could keep up.
Courtesy of Glenn Tachiyama
As you know, I’m not one to take you mile by mile of the course.  But even now, 3 weeks later, I still remember every mile quite vividly and how I felt at that moment. Most races are not like that for me and inevitably, I forget the pain. But this race was special. It challenged me in a way that most races had not. I think most of that comes from me underestimating the two extra climbs in and out of Stinson beach and the steady heat felt most of the day. I also think I ran too hard up front and didn’t let the course come to me in a way that usually is my style.Â
The beauty of the course and views of the water, trees, and smells unique to the Marin Headlands were treats all day long. Seeing my husband at each aid station to get me in and out was not taken for granted. Thoughts of my little girl danced in and out of my head. I watched people casually hike up the stairs of Pirates Cove, probably headed to picnic and lie around. I watched kids build sand castles on Rodeo Beach as slid and struggled through that same sand, my legs revolting at the extra work. I felt the breeze of the bay hit my forehead as I crested the top of Marincello, happy that I could run almost the whole climb. I enjoyed the cold water poured on my back in Tennesee Valley. Yes, it was a day for the senses.Â
I actually vowed to give up ultras by the time mile 52 had approached.  Bon Bons and movies and the secret fat person was trying to keep me down.   I was hurting and insecure about my abilities to race. JB was pacing me and to be honest, he was so focused on keeping me in front of Ragan Petrie chasing me down since mile 50 that we forgot to laugh, to look around, to talk. It was me,” How far back in Ragan,” and him, ” she’s 100 yards behind,” and me, “I can’t go any faster and I don’t care anymore,” and him, “babe, you are doing great, can you run up to that tree just a little harder,” and me, ” okay its time to run harder, I’m not getting passed,” and him, ” you got this.”  This breathless, back and forth banter continued for 13.5 miles until we reached the last stair heading down the dipsea when I finally relaxed. And yet only for 4th place. This wasn’t a race for 1st, I kept thinking. But hey, it was a race.
Certainly there were smiles and exhilarating jolts of energy all day long. I felt weightless at times and happy to see and run with good friends. I was even okay with Jimmy Dean giving me a sweaty hug as he passed me at mile 46. But I did suffer this day and went to the well over and over again. Â
The truth is, this needed to happen to me. It made me fired up to train hard, not to race until Western States and to give my body a shot at racing and enjoying a run, if that marriage is ever to be. I know the reality of  juggling the demands of mommyhood, work, relationships and the training can lead to full on melt down. But the race was amazing and given to me at a time that was really perfect. Â
 Stats: 4th woman, 11:26, over 13,000ft climbing, 63.5 miles. (times were about 1:00-1:20 slower than year’s past)
Race kit/Things that worked: Vespa every 2 hours- increased consumption left me fueling less on gels and I actually had more energy. No watch- accidently bumped into Meghan Arbogast on the first climb and it broke my Garmin wrist strap. I ran without time or miles all day and loved it! Drymax socks are the absolute best- happy toes all day!   GU Brew is always a great drink for me to supplement sodium intakie.  No wheat or flour and only rice and sweet potatoes as my carbs are now essential for me to have a happy stomach.
Lessens Learned: Going slower up front is always okay if you are a second half runner.  Keep positive, don’t let your mind ride in that dark place too long. Be nice to your pacer, especially if he is your husband… 
And yes, training does directly impact performance…. you can’t fake a 100k.
Posted on Apr 9, 2012
The chaos duo
“It’s not the load that breaks you down. It’s the way you carry it.” Lena Horne
This could not better describe my thoughts heading into the month of March. The highs and lows of life were all culmunating the week I was due to race Antelope Island 50 Mile.  Let me back up just a tad and give some light as to why I would even make the trip to Salt Lake to race this in the first place, when my original race schedule had given me plenty of good chances to run within a few hours of my house. It’s pretty simple really- when family is in need, you figure out how to get there and help. JB and I found this race as a good “excuse” to see my Aunt (sick with Stage 4 non-small cell Lung cancer) and Uncle who live in Park City. We told them we would be in town and could come by and help with anything they needed- household chores, cheering up, running errands, etc. So plans went into play to get out there and accomplish as much as we could.Â
We decided to take a road trip and use an R.V. as our home on wheels for 5 days to be out in Utah. This was mistake number 3 in the line up of decisions. Mistakes 1 and 2 were my complete ignorance for my own health- anemia (extremely low ferritin levels and fatigue that I mistook for dieting)  and a sinus infection (I popped day 3 of the Z-pack on the morning of the race). I would have just bailed on the whole thing, but knew that my family was looking forward to our help. So onward we went, with our 18 month old in the Griswold family R.V.  Turns out Eva gets car sick- she puked on me and on JB about 3 times on our 8 hour drive to Salt Lake. She also doesn’t sleep well in R.V.’s. as Thursday evening’s total of 2 hours of sleep proved.  Did I mention how much I love R.V.’s? They are pure joy machines.
Anyway, I literally picked up my race packet on Friday in Leighton, Utah (about 30 minutes from SLC) smelling like vomit and on the verge of calling the whole thing off.  But, as stubborn as I am, that would never happen.Â
JB insisted we get a hotel so I had a chance of getting some sleep before the run.  An ambien-induced 6 hours of sleep later, it was race morning. We packed up Eva, the dog Luna and got into the Griswold machine at 5:00am to get out the race start. I gave Eva a bottle, handed her to JB and told him I was most definitely dropping by mile 19 as I knew I would see him there in a few hours. He said okay, have a good run, and we both laughed a good one.
I lined up next to a thin blonde runner, who turned out to be unbelivably fast. Bethany Lewis, the Grand Canyon R2R2R FKT holder and apparently just the nicest lady ever, gave me a hello and good morning and then proceeded to kick my ass for the next 7 hours. I’d like to say I could have hung with her, but this day was doomed from the get go and I just breathed in what I could, when I could.Â
 The race takes you all around the most gorgeous, picturesque landscape of rolling hills, a few sharp peaks, long tall grasses and of course, views of roaming buffalo set against the still Salt Lake. The climbing is done all in the front of the race- you get a good 3500 feet within 18 miles and then just little rollers and inclinations from there with an out and back for about 19 miles. This is a fast, fairly flat course, that is  good for someone who likes this sort of running. And by that I mean, someone who wants to run non-stop for the whole 50 miles. I am a climber and haven’t run so much in a race, ever.  I certainly thought I was capable of about 7:15-7:25 for this course, but as the aid station manager at mile 25 will tell you, I spent about 10 minutes with him trying to drop out. I tried this antic again at the next aid station at mile 32, until I saw JB hanging out with Roch Horton, who just cheered me up enough to keep me going.  I knew Bethany was pulling away from me and I had no desire to chase her down. I truly was just hanging on.  I found strength from all these outside sources and that was unusual for me.   And no, JB wasn’t going to let me quit anyway. I could see it on his face. He met me at mile 44 with Eva in the jogging stroller and Luna to pace me for a mile and gave me enough of a boost to get to the end. The guilt alone was enough to keep going.
Mile 44
It was a day of grit. I learned a ton about myself and ended up with a decent finish. 2nd woman in 7:42, 5th overall. I went under the old course record and felt okay about that, until I talked with Bethany (who just blazed to a new course record in 6:55) only 20 minutes off her husband’s (Ben Lewis) winning time of 6:34ish. They are super nice people with a darling little girl, Ada, born only a day apart from Eva- isn’t that funny. Mommy power on the trails- I love it.  She and I will meet up again at Miwok, where I hope to have a better day.Â
The following day after the race, Eva ended up in urgent care as she got my sinus infection but it went to her lungs. So while we did get to see my Aunt, who is probably the most courageous woman I know, it was shortened by a few days to get Eva home to get her well.Â
The light at the end
I have recovered from the sinus infection and took it very easy on my recovery from this race. I am taking Floradix iron supplement and will just listen to my body until my iron stores build up a bit more. I also got some exciting news that Drymax Socks and GU Energy Labs will be sponsoring mer. Thank God because I love using both brands, spend loads of money on that stuff and they are really second to none.Â
Now I will focus on Miwok and getting back to really hilly training and just balancing health and sleep which to me, are just as important as the running itself.
Posted on Mar 7, 2012
It seems that lately, many decisions to run certain races have been focused on 2 factors: 1) how much fun can we have with friends and 2) location, location, location. Ray Miller 50K satisfied those requirements in a big way. So off to LA we went.
Hal and Carly picked us up from LAX and to my disapointment did not have a minivan and a six pack of Stella as requested since it worked so well in Hawaii just a month prior. But nonetheless, we knew it was going to be a good weekend- sunny LA, warm temps and a whole day of hanging out with no real agenda. We grabbed a quick bite and proceeded to do a little Hollywood reminscing by driving to our former Hollywood Hills home and then taking a quick tour of the Hollywood Resevoir before heading off to the pre-Oscar madness assembling over at Hollywood and Highland shopping area. We finally found ourselves in need of a reprieve of crazy tourists and so clearly the decision was – drinks at the Tropicana Bar at the Roosevelt Hotel. All four of us were running the following day and so we took it easy only alllowing ourselves one (strong) cocktail sitting poolside at the Roosevelt. A masquerade of actor types and hotel guests allowed us to distract our racing nerves with good old fashioned people watching. Finally we decided we had better get ourselves out of the spectacle and into a more appropriate place conducive for pre-race preparations. So after some driving we ended up at Chipotle in the valley and meal 3 of 4 for the day commenced. Finally night was upon us, a very enjoyable day had by all and it was time to get some sleep for the early wake up call.
After a great night of sleep, an iced espresso, Vespa and oatmeal for breakfast, we made our way to the start in Pt. Mugu. In usual fashion we arrived just in time to tie our laces, say our hellos to friends Jimmy Dean and Kate Freeman and line up for the 6:00am start. My plan was to run with and ahead of most all the ladies to test this early season fitness- super fasties Amy Sproston, Shawna Tompkins and Meghan Arborgast were in the 50mile race and so I thought I should at least hang with them and probably even be in front of them considering I was running 19 miles less than they. So the fact that Amy passed me only about 3 miles into the race tells you what incredible shape she is in right now. She had a great race and won in a smoking time of 8:09 I think.
JB and I just ran together all day. Mile 0-10 were warm up miles, me dealing with a yucky stomach, popping immodium like candy and finally relaxing enough to look around me and enjoy cool temps, very runnable climbs and good conversations with Jimmy Dean and others. Miles 10-20 brought the realization that I had better start running if I was going to keep my lead as I could see the other ladies behind me a bit coming into the climb at Hell Hill at mile 11. Miles 20-31 were actually my favorite- I finally felt like we were in a groove, pace was good, the climbs kept coming and my stomach had recovered somewhat. JB and I enjoyed each other’s company and I was seriously impressed that he stuck with me all day considering he is just getting back his fitness after a good 6 month break due to finishing “Unbreakable.” What’s nice is that after all these years and miles together, we didn’t feel the need to talk much or check in all that often with one another. Because we are so crazy busy, having hours togther on the trail is bascially our date night equivalent. It’s just good to share that time. I, of course, thought lots about Eva and lots about my aunt Patricia, who was just diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer at age 49. When I was struggling up climbs, these two ladies occupied my mind, prompting me to push a little harder.
Coming into the last aid station at mile 26.5, I grabbed a quick gel and just kept rolling. One last big climb was ahead of us and I wanted to really push it. I ran most of the 1000 foot climb and could see I was gaining on JB. I didn’t wait for him as I didn’t want any last minute suprises. Cresting the top of the climb at mile 28.5, I could see JB was trying to catch up and we began a glorious 3.5 mile decent on the Ray Miller trail into the finish. Views of the Pacific Ocean were as good as barn fever and crossing that finish line was fantastic. 4:52 and 1st woman, 6th overall and a finish with JB who had to manage 5:30 pace on the way down to catch up with me. Nice event for sure- Keira did a great job with this race. It was a really tough course with about 6100 ft of climbing and an equal amount of decent. I think it will quickly become a popular and sought out event for years to come.
Posted on Jan 6, 2012
In typical fashion these days, I am just getting around to writing up this blog a whole 7 days after the new year greeted the world. That’s about right for me- I am a week late for everything- work expense reports, paying bills, reading news, etc.
What a beautiful year! 2011 brought me the most amazing gift of watching Eva grow from a teeny tiny baby into her now toddler and little girl-esque self. It is true what they say- there is nothing quite like having a child and watching her grow and be fasicinated by the world around her. What’s even more ironic, Eva and I seemed to live  in parallel worlds this year as I also had to start from the ground up in learning how to run again.  As I raced Tahoe Rim 100 in July, Eva began taking her first steps at 9.5 months old. It was really perfect.
Learning how to be a mom and to simultaneously be an ultrarunner has come with some very steep learning curves. I now look around me in line at Starbucks watching for the tell-tell dark cirlces that only a parent can have. The tired eyes that say, Yep, I was up from 2-4 and finally fell asleep at 5:00 and then the baby decided morning was upon us. That look is priceless.
Here’s what I learned this year:
  1) You can run well tired.  You can even run well when delirious- not everytime of course. But sleep might never be the same and your love for running is absoluletly worth getting out there.
2) Coffee and wine are now part of my basic food groups, kinda like fats and proteins are. Hey I gave up dairy okay, so I am going to have wine and coffee instead.
3) The first three months of running were pure hell. I thought I would never get back to being fit. I learned to have patience for the first time in my life.
4) There is no need to pull over at an aid station and waste precious minutes pumping if you are a nursing ultrarunning mom. I also learned that pumping every 6 hours while racing 100 miles is best when you have a steep climb ahead of you. Downhill running and pumping is out of the question.
5) I learned to not feel guilty about loving running. I really am a better mother and wife if I have gotten my run in for the day.Â
6) Being a mom is so much harder than I ever thought it would be. It’s also more rewarding, too.
7) Scheduling your daily run and your long runs are key when you have goal races. I used to run whenever I wanted before the baby, but now, I have to line up babysitters and make sure it all works with Eva’s schedule.Â
8) Making a full length feature documentary when you and your spouse have full time jobs, race schedule and a small child is about as wise as Hal Koerner not bringing body glide to UTMB. I can safely say, JB and I are happy to be done with a movie we are so proud of.
9) I learned this year that a mind that sufferred through labor can do almost anything.
10) I learned to be grateful for everyday on the trail, every night I give Eva a bath and every laugh I share with my husband, my family and friends, as life is a gift.
I am so looking forward to what 2012 will bring. I have a vigourous first half of the year planned with regards to racing-
Way Too Cool on March 10th, Lake Sonoma on April 14th, Miwok on May5th and the big track meet, Western States 100 on June 23rd.
I hope everyone’s New Year is off to a great start!
